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shipsgaysfordays · 2 years

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Queen

I gave myself the challenge of trying to write all of this week’s prompts, and I even found a spot to fit one of next week’s prompts because I’m an overachiever. It should have (not in this order) piece, forbid, slap, obstacle, queen, bond, soil, and sketch.

This is the fic that I have been making posts about that took me a lot longer than expected. It is based on an idea that I had because of a tiktok.

CW: I do reference sex as a joke at one point, also like Remus having anxieties about the possibility of people not liking him due to his queerness, lycanthropy, and emotional issues.

I may make a sequel to this fic at some point since I got a bit too invested and since it’s mainly just wolfstar pining and miscommunication (my bread and butter) It’s kinda fake dating, but as a joke that mainly drives some miscommunication, jealousy, and emotional issues

As usual prompts from @wolfstarmicrofic

Is this a microfic anymore, that’s debatable.

Remus had been reading in the library, his favorite comfort and passtime, his way of getting away from all the noise of the marauders—just for a little bit. He was just getting to the best part of their book, the fellowship of the ring had finally formed, when Lily interrupted, tapping him on the shoulder. At first he simply tried to ignore her, but she continued manically tapping and tapping and tapping.

“Remus,” she muttered, annoyed, “I need to tell you something.”

“We’re in the library, there’s like 1 rule in here and it’s to be quiet.”

“You and I both know that there’s many more rules because of you and your group of marauders.”

Remus looked up, smiling “innocently”, “I have no idea what you’re talking about, the marauders are an anonymous group of lunatic pranksters, could only imagine what the school would be like if they were caught.”

“Uh-huh, sure. That doesn’t negate that I need to talk to you about something,” she stopped to think for a minute, “alone.”

His face shifted as he listened to the concern in her voice. “Okay, okay, let’s go to the lake,” Remus said as he put his books into a bag and began leading Lily out of the library, the librarian staring bullets at them due to all of their “noise” (they were whispering).

“But it’s raining,” Lily said, tilting her head back, exacerbated.

“Sometimes you have to make a sacrifice if you want to be all alone.”

“If I get a cold I’m blaming you.”

Remus shrugged, they walked down the moving steps, Remus’ eyes kept glancing at the red head next to him, why would she want to talk to him alone? Did she change her mind on werewolves? Or queer people? Or maybe he’s just being too bothersome and depressed and angry and emotional.

His boots stomped into the muddy brown soil, sinking into the dirt just a bit with every step he took, until getting to an area deemed secluded enough. Their eyes met each other, Remus looking at Lily expectantly, “So, what’s this important information I need to hear?”

For a moment Lily was reluctant, eyes looking around the grounds, “I…I don’t know if I should tell you, Sirius said it was a secret, but….well I know how you feel about them.”

“Lily, you can’t just leave me with that, if it’s about Sirius then I need you to tell me, please Lily, put me out of my misery,” Remus tried to say it playfully, dramatically like the person they were discussing, but there was a tinge of sadness to the tone of his voice. A sense of anxiety.

Lily cleared her throat for a second, “Okay, okay,” she looked up at Remus, “Sirius told me that they’re dating James, but that it’s a secret. I didn’t know if you would know already or if you were someone they didn’t want me telling, they forbid me saying—”

Lily continued to rattle on but Remus couldn’t listen anymore, it was a joke, right? But why would Lily ask him to talk with her alone for some stupid prank, and she wouldn’t take it this far, she knows how Remus feels about Sirius, she’s the only person who knows.

It hit Remus like a slap in the face. It was senseless and stupid yet somehow made all the sense in the world. James and Sirius had always had a closer bond between each other in comparison to the rest of the marauders.They always spent more time together, chatting late into the night about who knows what, their energies matched each other the best. Padfoot and Prongs had always seemed to mesh, like soulmates, Remus had always just hoped it was platonic soulmates.

Lily’s hands were waving in front of his face, “Reeeeemusssss, Remus, Reeeeeee-”

Remus put his hand over her mouth, putting on a fake smile, “I’m listening, I’m listening…but seriously, thank you for letting me know Lily.”

After pulling his hand off her face, Lily held it, “I’m sorry about–”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for, my best friend who happens to be my crush is in love with my other best friend who had seemed to have a crush on you, and now they’re dating and hopefully they’re happy and they decided to keep that a secret from me.”

Remus tried to detach himself from the words, from the situation, trying to speak like it was a to-do list and not all the woes he would be worrying over all night. Still his voice broke.

“Let’s get inside,” Lily shivered.

Quick on their feet, Remus and Lily ran, holding hands and hoping they hadn’t caught a cold from being outside in the pouring rain for at least a few minutes.

As Remus performed the cleaning charms he thought about all the times they would have been useful to know at home, so his dad wouldn’t complain about mud tracking into the house. He blinked, looking back at the floor and walking mechanically through the hallways and eventually into the common room. Trying not to think about everything, the moon would be soon, just one more week–that was not a better topic to think on, Remus decided.

Marching past the common room, past James with his messy beautiful hair and his eyebrows shot up in confusion and perfect brown eyes peering at Remus.

Finally in the empty safehaven of their dorm Remus grabbed Sirius’ record player, his favorite Queen album, and began breaking his eardrums by turning the volume to the highest possible level and listening to “I Want To Break Free.”

Saying James was troubled by this behavior as he sauntered into the room would be a massive understatement when describing the mom friend of the marauders. On a normal day Remus would try his best to talk through a small part of his problems that he would let James know about, but today was not that day, Remus was fucking angry.

“Moony…”

“Leave me alone Potter.”

“Surnames, now this has to be important, of consequence, significant, momentous, pressing, other synonyms so I don’t speak of the devil.”

“You can say serious, it’s not like it will summon them,” Remus rolled his eyes.

But of course the universe just needed to prove Remus wrong, that’s what today seemed to be all about, just fucking with Remus. That’s all Remus could think of as those boots, leather jacket, and confident strut came into the room.

Immediately Remus decided that now would be a good time to return to the library and continue his books. Wordlessly and with the blankest face he could manage, he tried to leave the room.

Sirius stepped back, blocking the door, “Where you goin’ Moony?”

“Library,” Remus spit out.

Their hands shot up by their head as they backed away from the door, “Okay, just don’t fry your brain studying, you make it hard for some of us to keep up.”

Remus was already out the door, still he heard as someone (presumably James) turned the music down and Sirius asked, “What the hell’s going on with Moony?”

….

Sirius had been planning on telling James about the prank they played on Evans earlier, when they first heard the Queen music down the hall they were overjoyed that Remus would also get to hear this piece of information, however seeing that Moony basically had a raincloud of emotions over his head, Sirius wondered what could have happened. Has Snivellus been fucking with him again? Is the moon closer than I thought it was? Did I fuck up something again and forget about it? He left right when I came in, is he irritated with me?

Of course after Remus had left, they had to ask, “What the hell’s going on with Moony?”

“No clue,” James responded sitting on his bed, “he seemed fine earlier, if anything pretty happy.”

“Maybe his hip is hurting again?” Sirius sat next to James.

“Maybe,” James pondered, “but that wouldn’t explain him wanting to leave the room right when you got here.”

“I need to talk to him,” Sirius sighed.

“It might be good to give him space for a bit, Moony always needs his alone time.”

“True…” Sirius thought for a bit, until remembering why they were coming up to talk to James in the first place, “Oh! I need to tell you about this absolutely rad prank I played on Evans earlier today.”

James’ eyes widened, “What crimes did you commit this time to ensure I never become friends with Lily?”

“Nothing too sirius, nothing too serious,” they spoke with their hand on their chin, a finger brushing on their devilish grin. “Told Evans that we’re dating and that she needs to stay away from my man.” Sirius looked up innocently.

“Why?!? Merlin why!” James spoke dramatically.

“Thought it was funny,” Sirius shrugged.

“Why have I been cursed with this friendship?”

“No refunds, no take backs, you’re stuck with me Prongs.”

“Funny part is I don’t even have that big of a crush on Lily anymore.”

“Sure…” Sirius rolled their eyes.

“What?!? I don’t!”

Sirius cackled, “Like I’d believe that in a million years.”

“Well I don’t, and now this is just another heart shaped obstacle in the way of us becoming friends…though maybe if she thinks I’m dating someone else then she would be more willing to talk with me…..”

“Think she’d want a thresome.”

James shoved Sirius, “Ew, ew, ew, ew, ew, EWWWWWWWW. Listen to me closely Sirius, NOT. WITH. YOU. NOT IN A MILLION YEARS, YOU ARE LIKE A BROTHER TO ME, JUST, NO.”

“And I already had the wedding invitations written, pre ordered the dress and everything.”

“You could always try to marry Mo-oo-ooony,” James teased.

Sirius shoved James back, “Like he’d ever say yes to…all this.”

“You never know until you ask…though it would be a better idea to ask him on a date before trying to marry him. Doesn’t seem like the one to rush into things, our Moony.”

“Yeah…don’t think I’d want to rush into things either,” Sirius spoke more, for lack of a better term, seriously.

“Do you think Lily told anyone?”

“Lily told anyone what?”

“About the whole us dating prank.”

“I don’t think so, told her it was a secret since you’re not out.”

James tilted his head, “I probably should come out…oh shit!”

“What! What’s going on, have you finally had your first thought after all these years?” Sirius put a hand over their chest, “I’m so proud, little boy’s all grown up.” They ruffled his hair.

James swatted Sirius’ hand a way, “Firstly, just realized that I don’t think I ever told you I’m bi.”

“Well that was pretty obvious given how much you talk about the boys in quidditch.”

James gave an exacerbated sigh, “Anyways, secondly, Lily and Moony are close, right?”

“Yeah, they do all that studying together since,” giving air quotes, “‘academics is important’ and all that.”

“Think she would have told Remus?”

“About you being bi, I think Remus already knows.”

“He should we’ve kissed.”

“WHAT?”

“Anyways, back to the point,” James tried to continue on as Sirius crossed their arms and shook their legs, “do you think Evans told Moony about us dating?”

“Okay, we need to get back to you kissing Moony at some point, but I don’t think she would have said anything.”

“Could have though.”

“Why would Moony be pissed about that?”

“‘Cause he likes you?”

Sirius narrowed their eyes.

“Or he’s pissed that we supposedly kept this from him and he had to hear it from Evans.”

They bit their lip, thinking for a moment, until shooting up like a rocket, “I need to talk with Remus.”

Sirius ran down the stairs and through the halls, until finally stopping to catch their breath, right in front of the library. Walking straight to the librarian’s desk and proceeding to ask the old bat with her scrunched up snooty nose for a piece of paper, thankfully she obliged.

They spotted Moony, grabbed a random book from the shelf so they would be able to blend in with their surroundings, like a secret agent, Sirius thought.

Padfoot starred as they sat at the table next to Moony’s but not Moony’s so he could have a bit of space. For a moment Remus looked up, their eyes locked together in some sort of exchange, like a call to battle, though quickly Remus’ eyes moved back to the book. Sirius sighed, Remus’ sneakily flipped them off for just a moment.

Using a pencil, Sirius began to write a note with a few stars sketched around it.

….

“Are you angry at me?”

Remus examined the note that was passed to him, of course, he wanted to say, you and James lied to me…I like you and you don’t like me. Instead he simply shrugged, deciding that a gesture would be better than any worded response he could think of. He handed the unchanged note back to Sirius.

Sirius added more to the note as Remus tried all his might to focus on the book again. What is it with people trying to interrupt my reading today? Does everyone here just hate Tolkein? His train of thought was interrupted YET AGAIN by a paper being dropped on top of his book page.

“Did you talk with Evans?” No stars, hearts, or other annoying bullshit around the words this time.

Remus considered just ignoring the words, but he knew Sirius would be fucking persistent, he held his hand out for Sirius pencil and began writing just after Sirius dropped it into his hand. Simply saying, “Yes.”

“About?”

Part of Remus wanted to say that they had talked about the rain, about getting a cold, about the anonymous group known as the marauders, but he wanted to get this hellish conversation over with.

“Congrats to the happy couple,” for a moment he wanted to leave it there, but he decided to add, “kind of wish you or James would have told me.”

“Didn’t tell you because James and I aren’t actually dating.”

“?”

“It was a prank on James and Lily.”

“Ok,” Remus ran a hand through his hair.

“Can we talk?”

Remus looked up at them, he packed his things back into his bag, Sirius got up preparing to leave as well. Once out of the quiet land of books, Remus whispered, “Not right now.” Turning the opposite way of Sirius, in hopes of finding one of his good hiding spots so he could finally return to his reading.

….

Sirius stood still, blinking back strange water that started infecting their eyes for absolutely no reason whatsoever as they watched Remus walk away.

I fucked everything up…all for a stupid joke.

Later on they were laying in bed, staring at the blurry ceiling and blaming it on some random fake illness.

#wolfstar #marauders #marauders era #the marauders era #remus lupin #sirius black #sirius and remus #wolfstar fic

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cloudninetonine · 4 years

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Cogito, ergo sum

Chapter: 2

Pairing: Connor (RK800) x fem!reader

A/N: Hey guys! I want to apologise for the long wait between chpaters but seeing as I’m on my last year of college my school work is coming before everything else so it’s a little hard working between them! Don’t worry, I’m not dropping this series or anything just expect chapters to take a little long to be loaded and everything! Also, this chapter seems a little too far paced for me, so sorry about that as well!

Tags at the bottom once again!

I do not own Detroit become human this is merely fanficion

Warnings: Bad language, physical assault, threats (?), hints of abuse, (Name) being weird like always, also angry (Name), mentions of drugs, there’s a bit of slander against drug abusers that I do not condone!

Undercut babes!

It’s fascinating, it really is, the way her beautiful gaze follows you as you round her, studying her feverishly, your eyes wide and bright.

She’s...well, words cannot describe her. Her beauty lies beyond your imagination and you’re not quite equipped to say anything that her magnificent ears deserve to hear, your words are below her and she’s just-

Wow.

“Ms (Last), please-”

You raise your hand towards the younger engineer, silencing with a small utter of ‘hush’ and he’s shutting his mouth, falling back to the side of your desk with not much else to say.

The android you’ve been un-shamelessly ogling for the past 10 solid minutes is still very quiet, she’s just watching you in her manufactured attire, shy, nervous, scared- everything you really wish she wasn’t right now because there is no way you want her to see you as some sort of threat, far from it.

“Henry” Turning back towards the engineer, he stiffs up like a board, sweat forming on his brow “Why didn’t you dismantle her?”

It’s rude, it’s horrible to say and it sours your mouth when you form those words, but it’s an honest question, you want to know why someone would do this, keep her alive, see her for all her glory.

The public spoke strongly about their opinions of androids, like toys to be played with, slaves to be worked, not the thing you so desperately wanted people to see them as. The masterpieces that stood beyond human comprehension.

The android lets out a noise similar to a whimper as Henry stammers out.

“I-I couldn’t she- um- I-” Finally, he sighs with frustration, Henry makes eye contact with you “She said was scared and...I couldn’t”

You snap back to face her.

“Is that true?”

She hesitates, one second, two seconds, three seconds, four- it takes a whole 30 seconds before she’s finally responding. “Yes…”

Your chest bursts in excitement.

“You’re incredible” Henry deflates in relief, placing a hand against your desk while you grasp her cheeks, her warm grey eyes glancing between your two hands then meet your own stare, confused. “Amazing, beautiful, fantastic, so, so much more”

“...thank you”

You sniff, then you’re pulling away, trying to keep your tears abay. You really can’t believe that your work has gone so far, that new forms of sentient are evolving from a human’s hand, you’re so overjoyed by it all but you’re also kind of realising how weird you’re being.

“Sorry, I’m becoming the creepy stereotypical scientist, let me just-” Pulling off your lab coat, you throw it over her shoulders, pulling it tighter around her for her dainty hands to grasp and hold, a smile growing on her face in gratitude. You’re really still in awe of it all but send her a giddy smile back “Henry get Kamski I’m sure he’s gonna love this”

When the man disappears, closing the office door behind him, you guide her to a chair, kneeling before her kindly.

“Tell me” She waits patiently for you to continue “What’s your name?”

When she opens her mouth, you interrupt her, grasping her hands “No, not the name you were given, the name you have chosen. What is your name?”

You’re at the beginning of history right here, you can already see the books that are yet to be written, all starting at this very moment, with you and her. This android, this amazing, piece of living metal, is the start of something great and you can’t wait to be a part of it.

“My name is….”

-----------

“(Name), I’m sorry, but there isn’t really anything I can do”

Your hands come down on the desk, expression unbelieving.

“But he attacked Ortiz in self defence, it’s not fair for him to be shipped to Cyberlife! That hellhole already has enough test subjects with other deviants, why can’t he be let go!?” Pushing yourself back up, you drag your hands down your face in exasperation “He’s a victim! He was defending himself, why can’t we let him off with a lesser offence?”

Billie sighs, shutting the file softly. “Because in the eyes of the law, he’s not a victim. He’s property and there isn’t much we can do about that. Besides, because Ortiz is dead, his ownership basically goes back to Cyberlife, so they have the authority to take him back”

Billie’s right, you know that they’re right, but it’s just so frustrating, so vexing that this is the case. An android, in the eyes of society, is nothing more than their components, why should they be given the same privilege as those who eat, shit and breathe?

Billie may be a judge, but they didn’t make the law.

You remember years ago, when something like this would have been seen as detestable, that the masses would have stood up to fight this kind of horror, but for some reason, with age came stupidity and ignorance it seemed. What the fuck had happened to you all?

You open your mouth, then close it, then open it again before huffing, taking the file from their desk and ripping your coat off the hanger.

“I’m sorry, (Name)!” Billie calls and you wave them off, shouting back a ‘Don’t worry about it’ then close their office.

The courthouse is only a few blocks away from the precinct, a good walk away, a good way to calm yourself down until you’re having to face the frustration that comes in with having to work in such a high strung place. It’s funny really, you used to say ACAB when you were younger, still believed it too, so it’s really a wonder as to why you joined, but then again sometimes to make change you have to become the very thing you hate-

“Detective (Last)-”

You scream, almost dropping your files and jumping a meter within the air. Passerbys don’t even spare you a glance, a generation raised on the weirdest websites like Vine, Tiktok, Youtube and god forbid, Tumblr, have them desensitised to whatever shit people like to play at now-a-days.

“Oh my God, Inspector Gadget” A hand falls to your chest, checking your racing heartbeat “You can’t just sneak up on a bitch like that”

Connor, the big old puppy, tilts his head in mild confusion “But I called your name twice, detective”

Oh.

“What are you doing here, Connor?”

The android joins your side and you continue your way. “Lieutenant Anderson informed me that you were heading to the courthouse, so I decided to come and brief you about a new case”

A new case, of course a new case, deviancy keeps popping up all over the country rapidly but you can’t hold your surprise about the fact that it’s been a few days and there’s already a new case.

“Deadass?”

Wait, you hadn’t mean to say that-

His eyes narrow “Deadass?”

A snort escapes you “Oh my God I can’t believe you just said that, it sounds so cursed coming from your mouth. I meant, seriously?”

You swear on your life, on everything that may be above and so much more, that the android lets out a laugh when he continues, explaining the details as you finally enter the office.

You realise, as he talks, you feel a whole lot lighter than you had earlier.

-----------

“This guy is as scummy as it gets”

Unfortunately, you can’t help but agree. Todd Williams is about as charismatic as a dumpster fire, messy hair, messy face, stained clothing and the stench of alcohol clung when you finally met him, having to hold back a wince of disgust.

You don’t usually speak ill of others, but you know his type, from the way he carries himself to the way he speaks. You’ve had to face men like him before, his whole demeanor brings back bad memories and you’re so glad that you’re not the one having to get details from him, to have to speak to him.

One thing’s for sure though, you don’t blame whatever deviant decided to book it from him.

“Why doesn’t he just...get a refund from Cyberlife?” You take a sip of your milkshake, staring at Hank, Connor and Mr Williams who looked to be ending off their conversation. “They do that for deviants, don’t they?”

Yes, if you remember, the new flashy CEO of the hell corp spoke it for all to see, that deviance is guaranteed to offer you your cash back.

How inhumane it all sounded.

Gavin scoffs, drinking his coffee “You think a guy like that cares about refunds?”

No. You know why he’s doing it. It’s all about power for fuckers like that.

Mr Williams leaves, Hank is looking through his notes, Connor is heading your way, probably to refer all the information back to you and Gavin is taking in a breath to start his bullshit again, despite your civilness that you had been sharing.

Eh, peace was never an option-

“Your metal boyfriend is heading this way”

The noise you make isn’t human, it’s a mix of a wheeze and scream, like you’ve just choked on the air your breathing and in all honesty, you have, but you’re not letting that mother fucker get away with catching you off guard, especially when he starts laughing.

“Shut up, furry”

Your actually feel the air from his head snapping towards you. “I’m not a fucking furry, quit fucking saying it!”

You pat his shoulder “It’s alright, Reed, we all know you wrote yiff fiction in your spare time-”

You dodge his fist, running away from his red, angered face and petty insults, dragging Connor away from the break room to the side, all while laughing up a storm.

Having your attention on the android again brings back Gavin’s words, his tease of ‘boyfriend’ which makes your face heat up, in what? You’re not quite sure, but it’s enough to make Connor notice your oddity.

“What were you and Detective Reed-”

“Nothing” You cackle, patting down his shoulders to distract yourself “He’s just being an arsehole again, nothing to worry yourself over”

And worry himself he didn’t, because he couldn’t of course, android and all.

Connor was quick to fill you in, an AX400 by the name of Kara had stolen (the word kidnapped comes to mind but you know that the robot detective will just ‘correct’ you on your wording) another android, Mr William’s ‘daughter’, model YK500 named Alice after assaulting him the night before. Mr Williams had been knocked out after the ordeal, as to why it had taken him so long to report it.

“Were there any signs of assault that you could see? Ones that could lead to a potential take down or unconsciousness?” Connor takes a moment before shaking his head “Yeah, I didn’t think so”

What a lying fuck.

“Let’s head to the briefing room”

Hank is there, as well as a whole group of other police officers, talking amongst themselves as you situate yourself behind the podium, screen remote in hand and smiling brightly. Your partners are at your side, Connor in his usual stoic stance while the old fart has his arms crossed, bored as always and you’re ready to debrief the many uniforms but they keep talking, even after you clear your throat.

You’re not one to get angry at being talked over, annoyed, yes, but anger leads you nowhere with a crowd, so instead, you use your most favourite tactic to date

“Pay attention to me or I am gonna start screaming people” You sing. Not a threat, but a promise. “And you all know I will screech like mother fucker”

The room is silent in the next second.

“Great! So-”

The door to the room bursts open.

“Fucking really-”

“Detective (Last)'' It's the front office assistant and by the looks of it, he is panicked, worried even, as he addresses you. You suddenly feel your stomach knot up “I’m sorry, but there’s been an emergency with your relative Carl Manfred”

You swallow, hard. “What?”

The meeting ends right then and there.

-----------

Hank hurls to a stop right outside the entrance. You’re already halfway out of the car when he shuts off the vehicle, Connor is taking off his seatbelt and you’re already racing down the soaked concrete path to the front door, rain pelting down on you.

You barely feel it though.

You startle the receptionist when you slam your hands down, eyes wide in panic, breathing coming out in fast, short pants and just looking as though you faced the masses to make it to this spot, right in front of her.

“Carl Manfred, he was brought here about an hour ago is he-”

She interrupts “Are you family?”

“Yes, please, I-”

“In what relation do you have to the patient?”

Is she really fucking serious right now? You debated leaning over and strangling your answer out of her, letting her know what kind of fucking pain you could put her through in this very moment-

But the hand that is placed against your back keeps you still. It’s warm and comforting and keeps you from mauling the fucker right out of her chair, though it doesn’t calm your anxiety, no, but at least it’s there.

You turn to see Connor, who nods towards you politely.

Huh, what a twist of events.

Hank leans over from your other side, looking just as angry as you feel, though he keeps his voice civil when he speaks “Listen, her old man’s just had a heart attack, could you drop the formal shit so she can see him?”

Her voice is sharp, just like her stupid fucking face and she snaps back “I can’t let you in unless I know your relation, unless you’d like to be escorted out by security”

Damn, she’s playing with fire and you’re ready to throw oil all fucking over her.

“I don’t fucking think so-” Pulling out your badge, you slam it against the desk, with nothing short of a growl “Police. Now, tell me where my fucking dad is or you’ll regret the next words that come out of your mouth”

You never abuse your power as a cop, it’s inhumane and back in your younger days you sneered at the disgusting police who would use their authority for their own gain, so you hate to admit but the nervous look that crosses her face when she sees your badge and Hank’s when he pulls it out for extra effect scratches an itch you begged to be scratched.

“Floor 3, the front desk will inform you what room”

“Thanks” You spit, already rushing to the elevator, the other two following.

Connor is quiet, to your surprise. Honestly, you expected him to speak out about your behaviour, your attitude, your unprofessionalism, but he says nothing, just trails after the two of you in silence, obediently, just like he was made for.

It’s comforting having him here, even if he’s just following orders.

The next receptionist is kinder than the last (she even scowls at the mention of her coworker) and points down the hallway, to where two officers stand with cups of coffee within their hands. They stiffen in surprise at your arrival, but you pay them no mind, pushing your way into the room where you finally pause, taking in the scene of your beloved father figure, laid still within the bed, pale, heart monitor beeping occasionally.

The doctor by Carl’s side looks up at you. “I’m sorry, but who are you?”

Hank and Connor wait outside.

“(Name) (Last), Carl’s daughter and emergency contact” You explain, walking further into the room “Is he- Can I-”

“He’s fine” She explains with a comforting smile “And yes, you can come closer, though the medication has him knocked unconscious so he won’t be talking any time soon”

The relief almost has you collapsing, brings you back from the panic attack that threatens to kick your arse right in front of everyone and you finally breathe normally.

“Thank you, and you are?”

“Dr Collins” Collins offers her hand and you shake it weakly. “Your father is going to be okay, (Name), but he’s going to need a lot of rest. Cardiac arrest at this age can be fatal, so we were lucky that he lived so close”

You nod, tiredly slinking to Carl’s side to drop into the cushion chair, taking his hand in yours. Kissing it lovingly, you place it close to you in comfort, in reassurance.

‘He’s fine, he’s fine, he’s going to be okay-’

“What are you doing here?”

Your anger shoots right back up, as does you head when you turn to look at the doorway.

“Leo” The name is dragged out of your mouth, it’s spoken with a heavy coat of venom and dirt and for all the participants who are about to see this wild shit show, is a clear indication that you’re far from happy to see the man that stood there. “The fuck are you doing here?”

He scoffs “I’m family, what else am I here for?”

“Oh I don’t know,” You’re standing, stalking closer to him with a raged gleam in your eye “To mooch off him a little bit more?”

The tension can be cut with a knife, everyone can see it, feel it, even Connor, who looks ready to intervene at any given moment.

“No, detective” One of the officiers starts, cutting in in hopes to keep you both calm. “He was there when it all happened, he saw everything-”

“He was there?” No, her words only add fuel to the fire and you’re glaring at your brother once again “You were there? The fuck were you there for? You did this?”

“No!”

“Please calm down” Collins cuts in “I understand the anger but the other patients-”

You ignore her, glancing around the area when a thought struck you.

“Where’s Markus?”

Connor’s the first to respond, “Who’s Markus, detective (Last)?”

“Dad’s care bot” A pin drops, no one is speaking, the two cops are quiet, Leo is scowling, but he’s not looking at you and your anger is quickly making room to fear, cold and stabbing when you push again, harsher, angrier “Where the fuck is Markus?”

The second officer speaks this time, hat in his hands and you know what happens next is not going to be good.

“He was leaning over your father when we walked in detective, Mr Leo Manfred told us he attacked him” The man gulps, hesitating. He’s not nervous for what he’s done, no, he’s nervous about the dark look that seems to be slowly taking over your eyes, “I shot him”

A beat goes by. Then another, another, another, another, another-

“Why were you there in the first place?” It’s soft, curious, but the rage behind it is big, your need for an answer is keeping it back “What was the call for?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t-”

“Answer the question, officer”

His partner offers up the answer “....A break in, ma’am”

There’s silence, then you nod in understanding.

No one is quick enough to stop you from shoving Leo into the wall, hands wrapped tightly around the lapels of his jacket and holding him up so you can scream at him properly, face feeling hot from anger, eyes wild from rage, practically feral.

“You fucking did this! This is your fault, you good for nothing fuck!” You pull your hand back and punch him right in the face, he’s too in shock to react but everyone else is trying to pull you off “What?! Were you off your shit from snorting that fucking powder again, you damn druggie!? Huh!? HUH!? You high right now, too!?”

“Jesus fucking Christ, (Name), let go!” Hank yells but he’s fucking impressed by your resistance.

“He could have died because of you, you good for nothing cunt! Worthless piece of shit! Now, Markus is fucking dead because of you, the person who was actually fucking taking care of him! This is all your fault! He’s in that hospital bed, because of you! You! Did! This! All for those stupid drugs! You’re fucking pathetic!”

You’re finally tugged off by someone, their arms slipping under your own to stop you from going back at him again. The officers are acting as a wall between you and your brother, Dr Collin’s is checking his nose as blood drips down his face, Leo is still in shock and Hank is leaning over, hands propped onto his knees. That leaves...

“I’m sorry detective (Last), but I’m going to have to restrain you until you calm down”

You scream in frustration and try to fight against it, but damn, you have to admit in a moment of clarity, Connor is fucking strong.

“Lieutenant Anderson, if you could take her legs, we can escort her out of the building without much trouble” Hank huffs something under his breath probably a grunt of ‘fucking android’ but complies, glaring at you when he leans down.

“You kick me and I’ll kick your ass”

Your respect for him makes you comply, but the anger doesn’t stop you from cussing both him and the android out, naming every threat under the sun as they carry you out of the building, back to the car which you are shoved placed into.

“Let me out of this fucking car, Hank!” You bellow, glaring at the man with sharp eyes who stood outside the vehicle, leaning against it “I’ll break this fucking window, I swear to fucking God!”

“You can try, but we both know you won’t!”

Once again, you’re screaming, tugging frantically at the door’s handle that you know is locked, but are way too angered to care right now.

Connor sits by your side, a good distance away to not antagonise you, silent, waiting and watching as you slowly fall from angry to desperate, tears welling within your eyes and falling down your cheeks. It only takes a few more moments for you to stop altogether, your shoulders shaking as you sob, quietly but strong.

The android finally speaks “Detective (Last)-”

You’re on him in a moment, arms wrapped around his frame, face buried into his shoulder, wetting his suit jacket as you cry, shaking.

It’s a new one for Connor. An android built for detective work, to sniff out the bad deviants, to question suspects and actually built with a comforting feature for victims of crimes. But this is a first, a first he’s seen anyone to tears, more importantly, a first of seeing you so broken. Sure, he had seen you defeated those few days ago, but this is different, you’re not trying to hide conflicting feelings behind your bubbly smile and weird jokes, you’re just...crying. Nothing more, nothing less.

His arms are hovering at your sides, hesitant, unsure and it’s not until Hank gestures from outside the car to ‘fucking do something, you stupid machine’ that the protocol finally kicks in, his arms coming to wrap around you securely and comforting, reassuring you through your whimpers.

Connor is a robot, a machine that feels nothing.

But seeing you cry isn’t something he can just let happen.

Software instability.

-----------

Tags: @dillxpixkles @1950schick @pinkittwice @iris-suoh @loveflowsthroughme @thatlonelyalto @starcatcher-kay (ya’ll I’m half asleep if I forgot you in the taglist I am SORRY-)

#connor rk800 #dbh connor #detroit become human connor #dbh hank #detroit become human hank #dbh gavin #detroit become human gavin #dbh carl #detroit become human carl #connor rk800 x reader #connor rk800 imagine #dbh connor x reader #dbh x reader #dbh imagine #dbh #detroit become human #dbh leo #detroit become human leo #cogito ergo sum

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2dmenenthusiast · 4 years

Text

Warmth - a Bakugou x Reader Christmas special

its finally done hhhhhh I love how I was just like “Oh yeah I’ll do a short little fic for Christmas” and then I ended up typing this long ass fic. I mean, its not that long but it took me days to write cuz I lack motivation always so it feels long lmao. Anyways, haven’t wrote for my explodey boy bakugou yet so here it is! Let me know if I gave the reader any specific pronouns or features by accident and I’ll fix it right away! I hope you all enjoy! Please feel free to reblog if you wanna give my fic more exposure, I'd really appreciate it 😚

Summary: You get caught in the middle of a snowstorm, and when you get home, you’re desperately craving the warmth of your exploding, ragey boyfriend.

Word count: 3.3K

Warnings/other info: swearing, itty bitty reference to sexy times, spoiler for Bakugou’s hero name, just a lot of fluff (you guys are so mean to each other tho lmao)

You hated winter. Actually, scratch that. Let’s rephrase. You hate snow. No, you had nothing against the actual season. Winter brought you cute Christmas movies and catchy songs, as well as the gift-giving holiday itself. However, snow was a demon, and it could fuck right off. Especially when it was blowing directly into your face like it was now, your snow-covered boots trudging through the thick snow as you held grocery bags in each of your gloved hands. Even though you were wearing a thick winter coat and hat, and had your scarf covering half of your face, you felt like you were about to shiver out of your own skin and god you could barely fucking see with all of this snow going directly into your eyes.

“‘It’s right down the street, y/n, just walk there.’ What am I, fucking stupid?” you muttered.

You had figured it would be better to just walk to the store rather than using up gas or spending money on transportation, and fuck were you dumb for making that decision. Bakugou had warned you too, taking one look outside and telling you it would be better to just go get groceries tomorrow. But noooo, you just had to get it done today. And honestly, it looked like the roads were gonna be shitty for the next few days, so better now than later. Speaking of the roads, there were barely any cars driving on them, which was expected. The plow didn’t look like it had come through yet. However, a vehicle slowly came towards you, going under the speed limit to avoid sliding on the road, and you could hear The Christmas Song playing loudly from inside as it passed. Chestnuts roasting on an open fire? Yeah, the only thing going to be roasting on an open fire was your ass the second you walked through the door. And by an open fire, you meant the heater, which Bakugou better have on full fucking blast, or else you swore you were going to wring his neck.

As your apartment building became closer in view, you doubled your efforts and tried to speed up your pace, but the snow made it almost impossible when it was almost past your shins. Still, you grit your teeth and pushed through, letting out a relieved groan when you walked through the front door of your building and felt heat blast you in the face. Releasing a sigh, your grip tightening on the grocery bags as you traversed up the stairs to your apartment, and when you jammed your keys in the lock and pushed through the door, it was just as you suspected. Too fucking cold.

“He’s dead. He’s a dead man. He knew I was going out in the fucking arctic tundra that is the city right now, but he chose to keep the thermostat at fucking 70 degrees?!” you thought, grumbling to yourself as you set the bags down in the kitchen and marched over to the thermostat.

“Hey, take your fucking boots off, will you? You’re tracking snow.”

You raised your middle finger in the direction the voice came from, not even looking back

at your boyfriend as you turned the dial of the thermostat and watched the numbers go up until you were satisfied. Turning to look at Bakugou with a glare, you said something that he could tell was filled with frustration and anger, but he could barely hear you when you were talking through your scarf, raising an eyebrow as if to silently say, “what the fuck are you saying?” Rolling your eyes, you toed off your boots and hung up your coat, taking off your gloves and hat next before unwrapping your scarf from around your face and neck.

“I said you’re a fucking maniac. How are you not freezing?” you asked, hurrying past Bakugou to your shared bedroom so that you could change into something warmer.

Bakugou just scoffed, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest as he watched you change. “You remember what my quirk is, right?”

Slipping one of Bakugou’s large hoodies over your head, you let out a sigh. “Oh right, I forgot that along with the ability to blow shit up, you’re also a walking heat box,” you said, throwing the hood over your head as you turned to your boyfriend with a small pout.

He just looked at you with an amused smirk, a single eyebrow quirked as he looked you up and down. He had to admit, he’d never get tired of seeing you in his clothes. Though he quickly became worried when a mischievous grin appeared on your face, and he had no time to react when you were running forward and slipping your hands underneath his shirt, wrapping your arms around his bare torso.

“Gah! Shit, you’re fucking freezing!” he yelled, trying to push you off of him, but you just tightened your hold as you buried your face in his chest. “Hey! Don’t you get comfy, get the hell off of me.”

“But you’re so waaarm,” you whined, looking up at him with cute puppy dog eyes. You weren’t lying, he was very warm, and you’d be damned if you pulled away from him anytime soon.

Letting out a growl through clenched teeth, Bakugou gripped your thighs in his hands and suddenly lifted you, and you let out a noise of surprise, not expecting your feet to come off the ground as your legs automatically wrapped around him so that you wouldn’t fall. Carrying you back into the living room, he threw you on the couch and pinned you with a glare when you tried to move, not walking away until he was certain you wouldn’t get up from that couch. Once he turned his back to you, you sat up on your knees and looked over the back of the couch as Bakugou walked into the kitchen, bending over the reach into one of the bags, and holy fuck his ass in those sweatpants was downright fucking sinful. As the cool kids would say, he was, “double cheeked up on a Thursday afternoon.”

“It’s Saturday, and stop staring at my ass, you damn perv,” Bakugou grumbled without looking back at you, and you pursed your lips as you raised your hands in surrender.

“Not my fault you’re so dummy thicc.”

“For the love of god, stop watching TikTok.”

You just laughed and stood from the couch, walking into the kitchen and leaning against the counter as you watched your boyfriend put the groceries away. “You don’t have to do that, you know. I can put them away.”

“Nonsense. You were just out freezing your ass off in the snow. Now get back on that couch before I throw you on it again,” he said.

You smiled at the kind gesture. While Bakugou was often rude and uncouth, not making an effort to hide his frustration or disdain for certain people or things, there was a soft spot deep down in there, and you were lucky enough to be one of the few people he showed it too. Of course, it was hardly willingly. You were persistent as hell, getting under his skin the moment you started going to UA with him. However, he’d be lying if he said he didn’t like your persistence.

Letting out a small hum to yourself, you leaned over and pressed your lips against his cheek, his skin warming up under your touch. “You’re cute.”

A light pink dusted his cheeks as you walked back to the couch and plopped down onto the soft cushions, grabbing the fluffy blanket hanging over the back and draping it around your shoulders. No, if anyone in this relationship was cute, it was you. With the way you stole his clothes and just seemed to always make them look better, or made him his bento lunch with cute little notes inside that he secretly kept in his desk and would look at whenever he needed a little pick-me-up. You probably didn’t realize how much he noticed every little thing you did, but he did, and it made him fall more in love with you every day. Of course, he wasn’t very eloquent and it was hard for him to express how he felt with words, but he was a believer in how actions spoke louder.

“Hey, dipstick! You almost done? I’m about to freeze my ass off over here and I need my cuddle buddy,” you yelled from the living room, and Bakugou’s eyebrow twitched as he scoffed, running a hand over his face. You just had to ruin it, didn’t you?

“Yeah, yeah, wait a sec, would you? Not my fault your body can’t regulate temperature like a normal fucking human being.”

Your head popped up, looking over the couch at your boyfriend with an incredulous look on your face. “‘Normal?!’ What about you is normal, Mr. I-get-unnecessarily-ragey-and-blow-shit-up? Hm?”

“Oh and you think you’re so normal when you bought fucking ice cream in the middle of goddamn winter,” he said, holding up the tub of ice cream you recently bought on your trip to the store.

“Ice cream is good for any time of the year! And you have no room to judge me. It could be a hundred degrees out and you’ll be scarfing down a bowl of spicy ramen like it’s your last meal.”

“You don’t hear me complaining about it though, do you?”

You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest as you pouted. “Jerk. you know, I hope your quirk just one day combusts and you blow up your own face.”

“Fuckface.”

“Asshole.”

“Dumbass.”

“Mama’s boy.”

Eyes widening, he dropped the last grocery bag on the floor and stomped over to the couch. If you were any normal person, you probably would’ve been cowering in fear just from the pro-heroes intense stair. But you had been with Bakugou for a while now, and what “normal” person would date someone whose first draft of their hero name was Lord Explosion Murder anyway? He placed his hands on the top of the couch, looking down at you as you stared up at him with a shit-eating grin on your face.

“What the fuck did you just say?”

“Oh, I think you heard me.”

“Take it back or I’m blowing up all of your Deku shirts.”

You gasped dramatically, placing both of your hands over your heart as you gaped at your boyfriend before narrowing your eyes. “You wouldn’t.”

He didn’t say anything, simply raising an eyebrow at your challenge before walking towards your shared bedroom without another word. Oh. Oh, he was being serious. Scrambling off the couch, you ran after him.

“No! Nononono, wait. Ugh, All right!”

He turned to look at you, one of your shirts of the Pro hero Deku held tight in his fist and a smirk on his face that meant trouble. You sighed, crossing your arms over your chest as you looked at the nearby wall, not wanting to see that stupid little grin on his stupid face.

“You… You’re- not a mama’s boy,” you muttered under your breath, coughing to make the words more unintelligible.

“I’m sorry, what did you say? I think I feel my hand warming up a bit.”

“Ugh, fine! You’re not a mama’s boy. Happy?”

Grin widening, he dropped the shirt and walked over to you in long strides, closing the distance quickly and placing his hands on your waist. “See? Was that so hard?”

“Absolutely teeth-pulling,” you said, dropping your head on his chest as he chuckled, bringing a hand up to gently pat your head. Of course, there wasn’t a lot about you two that was so different from each other. You both had a mutual hatred for backing down. He then looked over at the bed where the green-haired hero’s smiling face stared back at him, and he scowled.

“Why do you have so many shirts of that damn nerd anyway?”

“I don’t have that many, Katsu.”

“You have like ten. You don’t have any merch of me.” His grip on you tightened possessively, and if he wasn’t aware of it, you certainly were, smiling against his chest before lifting your head.

“Why would I need merch when I have the real life thing right here?” you asked, poking at his abs. “Besides, it’s not like I bought them. They were gifts whenever he had new designs come out.”

“And you couldn’t just refuse?”

“Even if you have some weird tension with him, that doesn’t mean I can’t be friends with him, dummy.” You lightly flicked his forehead and slipped out of his grasp as you walked back out to the living room, and he followed close behind with furrowed brows.

“Weird tension? The hell’s that supposed to mean?”

You just looked at him with raised eyebrows and shrugged, dropping down onto the couch before pulling out your phone. It took him a second to understand what you were getting at, and when he did, he wanted to vomit up his lunch.

“Oh, you’re sick.”

You threw your hands up. “I’m not saying I ship it! Your Twitter followers certainly do, though.”

“Yeah well, they’re all weirdos anyway,” he said, sitting down next to you and throwing an arm around your shoulders, and you immediately relaxed into him, content with the warmth he seemed to produce 24/7. “The only person I wanna be…” he grimaced, shaking his head, “shipped with is you.”

You smiled, looking up at Bakugou as you placed your hand on his chest. “I think people would if we didn’t constantly insult each other while we’re out in public. And you know, if you were actually affectionate with me.”

“I’m affectionate!” he yelled, arm tightening around you. “Those damn extras don’t need to see that shit anyway. Not like it’s any of their business.”

You chuckled and moved to straddle Bakugou’s thighs, hands taking their time as you dragged them up his muscular torso and splayed your fingers over his chest. You admired the man below you with a small smile on your face, his hands moving so that they rested on your thighs, giving them a small squeeze, and you watched his tongue swipe over his bottom lip as he seemed to look at you with that same red-eyed intense stare that he always did. Leaning down, you placed a slow kiss against his lips but pulled away before he could deepen it, and he chased your lips with a quiet growl as you let out an amused huff.

“Would you…” You could tell he was hesitant, never knowing how to properly express what he wanted to say, especially when he was feeling vulnerable. You placed your lips against his cheek, gently holding his face in your hands to try and reassure him. “Would you like me to be more affectionate in public? Would that… make you happy?”

Brows furrowing, your lips formed into a frown as you sat back, hands slipping into his. “Katsu… we’ve been together since our high school days. If I had any complaints, wouldn’t I have voiced them by now?” He opened his mouth, but you didn’t give him the chance to respond, grabbing his face again. “Listen to me for a second. Despite what people think about your rough edges and your unpleasant attitude-”

“Watch it.”

You smiled. “I wouldn’t change a damn thing about you. Your random outbursts, your sailor mouth, your shitty nicknames for all of our friends. Those things are what make you Bakugou Katsuki. Not some shitty tabloid with that stupid headline that’s like “Ten things to know about Pro Hero Dynamight!” or whatever. They’re all bullshit. No one sees the side of you that I get to. No one sees the big softie that you really are.” You lightly poked Bakugou’s chest with a giggle, and he swatted at your hand.

“Hey, I’m not soft, you dumbass,” he grumbled, and you just laughed as you leaned into him and wrapped your arms around his neck, resting your forehead on his shoulder.

“Keep telling yourself that.”

You heard him sigh and felt his arms wrap around you, happy in his strong embrace. There was nowhere you felt safer than in Bakugou’s arms. They were always there to hold you at night, or to pull you into a hug when you were feeling upset. You loved his arms, but you loved him in general. Everything about him always had butterflies fluttering around in your stomach. When he would gaze at you like you were the only other person in the world, or when he’d come home after a particularly rough day, and you’d offer to help him relieve some stress, but he’d insist that the only thing on his mind at the moment was you underneath him while he memorized and tasted every inch of you. Yeah, you were a love-struck idiot, but so was he. Maybe even more so.

You were brought out of your thoughts when the lights started to flicker before going out, and you waited a few seconds for them to come back on, but they never did. Are you fucking kidding me?

“Um… Katsuki?”

“Hm.”

“Please tell me our power didn’t just go out.”

“Our power didn’t go out.”

You smacked his chest. “Don’t be a smartass.”

“Then don’t say stupid shit.”

You let out a groan before whining out his name, and he sighed as he lifted you off of him and walked into the kitchen to grab his phone. It was like you could already feel the cold seeping back into the apartment through the cracks in the doors and windows, and you shivered as you grabbed the blanket from before and wrapped it around your body. Bakugou then came back into the living room, letting out a sigh and tossing his phone onto the couch.

“Some idiot driving in this shit-storm hit a pole and took down a transformer. Power won’t be back until the morning.”

Great. Just magnificent. Who the fuck decides to drive in a snowstorm? Letting out a huff, you stood and went to the kitchen to find a lighter before lighting every candle you two had, hoping they would provide enough light for the night. After making sure at least one candle was in every room, you went back to find Bakugou gathering all the blankets he could and raised an eyebrow.

“What? We both know our comforter won’t be enough to warm your shivering ass.”

“But I have you, don’t I? My personal heater,” you said, rocking back and forth on the balls of your feet as you smiled.

Bakugou scoffed. “Yeah, can’t wait for you to suck all the heat out of me.”

“Oh piss off. You love my cuddles.”

Before he could give you another snarky remark, you turned on your heel and walked to your bedroom, pulling back the covers and immediately tucking yourself underneath them. But of course, it wasn’t warm enough. When Bakugou walked into the room, you stuck a hand out from under the blanket and made a grabbing motion, and he just chuckled at you before throwing an extra blanket on top of you and climbing underneath the covers to lay next to you. You immediately sought him out, desperate for his warmth as you wrapped yourself around him and nuzzled into his chest, and his arms looped around you as he tangled your legs together.

“Christ, you’re fucking freezing,” he grumbled.

“Shut up and hold me tighter,” you said voice muffled as you spoke into his chest, and he did as you asked, his arms tightening around you as you let out a content sigh.

Relaxing in the silence, you felt yourself begin to grow more tired with each second that passed, and your boyfriend seemed to relax as well, which was rare for him. You both were perfectly content, dozing off in each other’s embrace.

“... So should I get a mistletoe for the apartment?”

“Dear god, shut the fuck up and go to sleep.”

#bakugou imagine #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #mha imagine #bnha imagine #mha x reader #katsuki bakugou #dynamight #bakugou fluff #mha christmas #mha fanfic #bakugo x reader

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florrickandassociates · 3 years

Text

TGF Thoughts: 5x06- And the two partners had a fight...

I’ve been waiting for this episode for nearly a decade, and I didn’t even realize it. More under the cut.

(This is very long! Please fight me on stuff and disagree because I just wrote all these words about this episode and I STILL want to talk about it more, it was that interesting!)

This is the second episode in a row to start off with a TikTok video. 5x02 and 5x03 both ended with elevators. Is there some sort of pattern they’re going for here?

This case—which is, it’s important to note, in Wackner’s court—is about TikTok content creators and copyright laws. Probably not enough material for a full case, but definitely an interesting theme to explore.

Marissa doesn’t have her laptop volume off (which I suppose makes sense; she was just playing the TikTok videos) and a notification sounds. She shuts the laptop.

Wackner rules that the profits made from the TikTok dance must be split evenly between the guy who stole the dance for his video game and the creator. The thief does not like this, removes his moose costume (oh, yeah, did I mention they’re in costumes again?), and starts shouting that he’s going to sue and then moons the whole court. Okay!

He follows through on his threat, and next thing we know, Liz, Cord, Wackner, and Marissa are meeting to discuss strategy.

Liz’s computer makes the same noise Marissa’s did; she punches some keys.

Liz points out that Wackner’s biggest problem is that real judges are not going to like Wackner playacting as a judge. “I’m not playing a judge. I am a judge,” Wackner says. Liz notes that Wackner’s court lacks any way of forcing people to comply with his rulings, but real court can shut him down.

I guess whatever keys Liz punched did not silence the annoying notification sound.

She asks Wackner to try not to become the focus of the court case, since that’s how they’ll lose. “This is why I started a court,” Wackner says after Liz instructs him to only answer yes or no and to wear a suit.

Liz asks Marissa to keep Wackner in line. She says she’ll try.

Now we are at the Black Lawyers Association, where there’s a panel with leaders from Chicago’s four top black law firms. For reasons passing understanding, DIANE is on this panel. This makes absolutely no sense (I mean, unless only white people were involved in this decision, and even then!) and I’ll only excuse it because they mention later that it makes no sense for Diane to have been on this panel.

I wonder why everyone else’s firm gets named but not Diane’s.

Diane also gets the first question, which is, pointedly, about opportunities for black lawyers. Her phone starts making the annoying notification sound. Ever heard of silent mode??

The annoying sound happens every five seconds at the RL offices. According to David Lee, it happens twenty times an hour, but it seems like more than that! He, for some reason, goes to Carmen to ask how to stop the sound. He also wants to know what it is. Carmen explains that it is “Dawnk” which is a new messaging system within the company.

On Dawnk, you can talk about anything you want and be anonymous. Who approved this?! In one frame, I can see there’s someone complaining about someone being promoted too fast because of “the future is female bs.” In another, someone is upset that they are anonymous and wants to use their real name (only Jay, who is otherwise absent from this episode, seems to have figured out how to turn this anon mode off).

Sorry, before I can get on board with this plot, I just need to note for the record how phenomenally stupid the idea of using anonymous messaging software within a company is. This was obviously not going to end well! It’s like workplace YikYak... (remember YikYak?!)

David Lee hates the idea of a messaging software; Carmen says the associates prefer this.

Jay is being very nice in the chat and defends the person who was promoted “too fast”.

“Who’s ‘Anonymous Crab’?” David Lee asks. Well, I think the fact they are “anonymous” should be a bit of a hint there, David.

Anonymous Crab asks, “How the hell did this happen??! How did Diane end up at a Black Conference speaking for our firm?” Good question, Anonymous Crab.

Anon Crab also shares a video and David Lee doesn’t understand how to press play. Carmen plays it for him. Diane looks really awful on the panel. No shit! David Lee seems to enjoy Diane looking bad, even though he should be able to connect the dots between Diane looking bad and potential for bad things to come for the firm...

Not only does Diane get quizzed about why she’s running a firm that is still insisting on calling itself a black firm, she also gets questions about her insurrectionist husband. “He was completely cleared of those charges,” Diane notes. Oh, hey!!!!! Remember how last week I said I’d be more surprised if that was the end of the FBI nonsense than if it continued? I am surprised!! And relieved. Mostly relieved. Dealing with the consequences of that high profile, relationship-straining ordeal is so much more interesting to me than any FBI machinations.

Next Diane is asked if Kurt just took a job to revitalize the NRA. She hasn’t heard of this yet. I’m glad she’s getting grilled on this stuff... it is about time.

There’s a hint that Carmen will be representing Mr. Rapey next week. I assume that’s why there’s a line where David checks in with Carmen on Mr. Rapey’s case?

Anon Platypus says, “I heard she didn’t even have seniority. She just jumped past other black partners to become our name partner. It’s crazy!!!” Anon Platypus is correct—technically. Diane was a name partner at one of Chicago’s top firms before joining RL, so while she skipped the line... that doesn’t seem to me like the PRIMARY issue in bringing her on. The primary issue is that bringing on someone that senior from outside the company is more similar to a merger than a promotion, and Diane’s partnership meant changes for the firm.

Other anonymous animals also don’t like Diane. One calls her clueless; another says that “Liz needs to do something about this.” Someone responds to that, “Liz will never do it on her own,” which is an interesting sentiment I want to come back to in a little bit.

“What is Black Twitter?” David Lee asks Liz out of the blue. “People on Twitter who are black and talk to each other,” Liz responds. David Lee asks how he can find it. “I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you,” Liz jokes. And to think Jay said Liz wasn’t funny!

The Dawnk conversation shifts and now everyone’s ragging on Julius for representing Kurt and just generally being a Trump voter. There’s a lot of heated and racial language I’m not going to type here, enough to make Julius spit out his coffee and storm down to the associate floor.

He goes to Devin, who I’m not sure if we’ve seen before but is high ranking enough to have Lucca’s old office, to get information on the anonymous posts.

Anonymous Bison says, “Unpopular opinion: I blame Adrian.” Hey, Anon Bison, let’s be friends! I am with you. Adrian is the one who brought Diane on, who encouraged them to lean into Julius’s Trump connections, and who pushed the firm to pursue profit over everything else. Diane and Julius aren’t blameless (though I don’t actually think defending Kurt is a bad thing) but if there’s someone who actively strategized to make RL what it is today? Adrian all the way.

In what world does noting that Julius is pissed in an anonymous message do ANYTHING to stop people who are pissed at him? If they were that concerned about him being pissed they wouldn’t have said anything in the first place.

Liz and opposing counsel talk over each other in court until the judge makes them stop. I think we’ve seen both the judge and opposing counsel this season, making me wonder if there’s a bit of a COVID bubble situation going on here with the guest stars.

Judge Farley jokes about “contempt cards” that go up in value and Wackner, of course, is all, “Wow, I really love that.”

Liz, whose entire strategy was to not let on that anyone calls Wackner a judge, refers to Wackner as “Judge Wackner.” Come on, Liz! (I buy that she’d slip up—there's no one in the world I wouldn’t believe slipping up—but ugh!)

How did the opposition not realize that they could make this about Wackner’s “crazy court” by referring to him as Judge Wackner? You’d think they’d be all over that.

Judge Farley looks SO unhappy that Wackner would refer to himself as a judge; it’s phenomenal.

Now Marissa stumbles over stuff because she’s, for some reason, speaking in court. I bought Liz’s dumb moment more.

The plaintiff’s strategy is to make it look like Wackner is of unsound mind, and they’ve got video evidence. Remember how Del, Cord, and Wackner all chatted in the RL elevator? Well, turns out that lead to a reality show about Wackner for Del’s streaming service. Sounds about right.

I don’t really think Wackner cares about attention or anyone else’s motivations... I think he just likes the idea of budget and an audience and a platform.

Liz meets Del for a romantic dinner and asks him when he was going to tell her about Wackner’s show. Del doesn’t understand why she’s upset. He doesn’t get why he would’ve needed her permission to go into business with Wackner. (I don’t think he’s wrong from a business POV, but from a relationship POV, he totally should’ve let her know!)

Liz says he should’ve asked because they’re using it against her in court. “That is unfortunate, baby, but this streaming show could be really good for Wackner. It’ll draw attention to his court. And... as I say that...that sounds... okay, look I’m sorry,” Del realizes. I like that he sees that Liz has a point. He goes on to note that he would be totally open to Liz trying to go into business with any of his acquaintances, and I think he genuinely means it.

Del notes that this is what “power couples” do. Oh? So they’re an official couple? Don’t power couples also associate in public and not hide their relationship from their colleagues?

This is the place where I note, yet again, that it is always going to be more interesting to see a relationship that feels realistic than to see a relationship that feels like it takes place in a vacuum.

Liz doesn’t want Wackner becoming popular. Del argues someone else would’ve made the show if he didn’t, and that “disrupters gotta disrupt.” Oh God.

Are we going to remember that Liz has a child at any point this season?

Diane is reading the Dawnk discussion at home. It’s still lively even after work hours. The associates appear to be discussing the vaccine before someone changes the topic to “the Diane situation.”

One associate notes that the partners probably aren’t happy about Diane either and just have to vote her out. Kurt arrives home as Diane reads this, reacts to the loud music Diane has playing, the open alcohol, and her general demeanor and asks if they’re getting drunk. “Are we getting a job with the NRA?” she counters.

Turns out it’s not entirely untrue about Kurt and the NRA. They want him for a new role. It would pay $167,000. I can’t decide if I think that’s a lot (objectively that’s a high salary) or not very much at all (isn’t Kurt the top of his field?)

Kurt notes he doesn’t have a job so he’s considering it. “Diane, our politics are very different,” he starts. “I know,” Diane says. “I’m, lately, struck by just how different they are.”

“I would just like one week when I don’t have to defend you,” Diane says in frustration. Kurt doesn’t even know what that means at the current moment.

“You’ll tell me when they offer you the job?” Diane asks. “They may not offer it,” Kurt says. “No, they will,” Diane says, because she knows that it’s basically a done deal already.

In the middle of the night, Diane turns to Kurt and tries to ask him a question. That wakes him up. She asks who he voted for in 2020 and he doesn’t answer. Uh oh.

Dreaming now, Diane sits up and asks, “Hello? What do I do?” More on that later...

The HR nightmare known as Dawnk is still going wild the next day at the office. (Seriously, with HR that strict, the anon feature would’ve been disabled the second the first semi-controversial comment was posted.) Everyone’s obsessed.

The partners, minus Diane, all gather in Liz’s office to discuss Dawnk (and the topics of conversation on Dawnk). Madeline says they should ignore it. I say they should make STR Laurie shut it down and be the bad guy. It is nonsensical that this workplace would continue to allow Dawnk to continue! In addition to being an HR nightmare, it’s also a drain on productivity if everyone’s constantly glued to it, and I imagine STR Laurie cares about profit more than anything else.

But like I really don’t get why Madeline says they can’t censor their associates. Of course they can shut down the app if they want to! Someone put the app there in the first place, no? I do understand not wanting to look like you’re violating free speech (even though taking away anonymous commenting in the workplace would not be a violation of free speech) but I highly doubt it would be only the partners complaining. Tina, whose promotion was called into question, would be complaining too. Anyone trying to get work done, or anyone who didn’t like the toxic culture, or anyone who was uncomfortable with a joke made, would be complaining. There are more than enough reasons it would be perfectly acceptable to take the anon commenting away.

Now the partners are fighting about Kurt’s case too. “Diane is not responsible for her husband,” Liz says when Madeline says that Diane should’ve known better than to get involved. Um, Liz, Madeline is right. Diane isn’t responsible for Kurt’s actions but she’s sure as hell responsible for volunteering to represent him.

“In the real world of this firm, Diane’s billable hours speak for themselves,” Liz notes when a partner tries to call Diane’s unsavory associations into question.

“The rest of us put in the hours too, for the record,” notes another partner. I’m sure... but do you put in DIANE’S hours and have DIANE’S client list? My guess is no. If Diane weren’t the biggest earner at the firm we wouldn’t be having this debate. She’d just be gone. She’d never have been at the firm to begin with.

“Liz, when I joined this firm, it was because of your father’s legacy. It was about Black civil rights, activism, justice. That’s what people talked about in meetings. Now, people talk about billable hours, million-dollar clients, corporate payouts. Now, I know it’s not your fault. That was Boseman’s vision and we were trying to survive the Trump years by bringing in white lawyers, but those days are gone. They’re done with. And I miss being a strong black firm,” Madeline says. Everyone but Liz (and probably Julius) seems to agree with that.

This is one of many interesting facets of this issue. When Madeline argues against Diane, she’s not just arguing that she wants a black person running the firm for optics. She’s not saying that Diane-but-black would be an acceptable choice. She is saying she wants RL to be the firm it was at the very very start of the show—a firm committed to social justice, not maximizing revenue. A firm that didn’t just accept every client that came their way because they love profit. A firm that stood for something. So my question is: Does Liz want that firm?

Liz is hard to read throughout this whole plot, and I think that may be intentional. Liz isn’t a manager by training—she was an AUSA who suddenly became a name partner at a firm (if you want to talk about seniority and skipping the line, Liz is a way better example than Diane—you can even through some nepotism, twice over, in there). She doesn’t seem to have a clear goal for her firm other than maintaining the status quo and keeping power. Liz not taking a stronger stance from the start (either accepting that they are no longer going to be a social justice-oriented firm or pushing to get them back to that place) allows these kinds of questions to fester. It’s my hope that this becomes text instead of subtext pretty soon, ‘cause this is the kind of thing that if it’s subtext for too long will start to feel like bad writing/Liz being conveniently clueless. It’s way more interesting if Liz is just not yet good at being a manager... because she is learning on the job.

Anyway. I think the ideal solution here is probably that Diane and Liz continue to run RL: A STR Laurie Company (the fact they’re owned by corporate overlords kind of makes any decision about RL’s mission moot) since Diane wants to do that and Liz seems to be content where she is. Madeline and the other partners, instead of trying to force STRL to let them pursue the cases they want, can accept pay cuts and go start their own firm. Maybe they can even team up with Barbara Kolstad!

None of that’s to say that the dilemma here is easily solvable, nor is it to say that Diane shouldn’t consider stepping down. I’ll say more on that later. My point here is just that this issue is much deeper than just if Diane is on the letterhead or not. As long as they’re owned by STR Laurie and have clients like Rivi, Diane stepping aside would just be a band-aid.

(And that, I think, is intentional... they’ve been building the “why are we even representing x?” tension pretty consistently this season, so I imagine it’s on the writers’ minds.)

Diane stumbles across the secret partner’s meeting and knows something’s up.

“You gotta handle this, Liz. You cannot have a white partner leading a black firm. We’ll lose clients with that kind of hypocrisy” Madeline insists after Diane heads back to her office. I’ve already said it, but just to say it in a less rambly way: Madeline is right, but she’s right IF AND ONLY IF the goal is to be a black firm. So, Liz, is it?

(They’ll lose clients, sure, but which ones? They’ll lose the clients Madeline wants while Diane continues to keep bringing in business and Rivi and Cord and Wolfe-Colman and their elk* stay put.)

*I know this is not the correct word; see 6x17 of TGW

David Lee has also noticed the meeting in Liz’s office and thinks this may be the “beginning of the end.” Diane glares at him and he says he was just joking.

Diane schedules a meeting with Liz. Liz’s assistant doesn’t know Diane by voice, adding to her frustration.

Credits! We are 22 minutes in! This might be a record if 5x01 hadn’t saved the credits til the very end!

I’ve already written more than I did last week by a couple hundred words.

Two interesting things about the credits. First, this episode was written by Aurin Squire. Forgive me if I’ve mentioned this in a prior recap (I know I thought about it but can’t remember if I deleted), but I think Aurin Squire and Davita Scarlett are key to why TGF and Evil are both always so good. They’re the two writers other than the Kings who are in both the TGF and Evil rooms, and they both REALLY seem to be on the same wavelength as the Kings. I imagine that having four people who are in both rooms helps with managing both at basically the same time.

(This isn’t where I wanted to go with this bullet point, but I may as well shout out how great Evil is this season, too! It also just aired an episode by Aurin Squire about the lead white female character realizing her privilege!)

Second, this episode was directed by Brooke Kennedy. I didn’t know that going in, but seconds before the director credit popped up, I was thinking to myself, “this episode feels like it’s going to be a very important one. I bet Brooke directed it.” I was very pleased to see her name appear.

(For anyone who doesn’t know, Brooke is an EP who’s been involved in nearly every episode of both Wife and Fight and she tends to direct important episodes that require a lot of familiarity with the characters. She directed 5x15 of The Good Wife and she’s done a bunch of the premieres and finales that Robert King hasn’t claimed for himself.)

Diane and Liz meet in a bar to catch up. Diane’s still staring at Dawnk. Liz takes her phone and silences the notifications. “Who thought that sound was pleasing?” Diane complains. “All day in court today,” Liz commiserates. Carmen had to teach her how to silence the notifications. Liz, you’re using an iPhone, there is a very easy to use switch that silences your phone, like you would need to for court. I know you know this.

(I think Diane, despite her complaining about the sound, is captivated by Dawnk.)

Liz orders soda water instead of a drink. I assume that’s intentional, perhaps because she knows this isn’t going to be an easy conversation or a long night of drinking? She has wine in an earlier scene.

I love that Liz and Diane chat about Dawnk even though there’s no real plot reason for them to spend this much time discussing it. Little moments like this make me believe Liz and Diane are actually colleagues who get along well and make management decisions together.

Diane asks if Liz thinks Dawnk actually increases productivity. Liz laughs—she does not. But she knows the associates would “riot” if they got rid of it. She’s right. I still think they can get rid of it without too much blowback. But at least they’re acknowledging this.

“What do the partners think?” Diane asks, very intentionally shifting the subject. You can hear it in Christine’s voice and see it in her body language—Diane is looking for an opportunity to talk about what she wants to talk about.

“God, Madeline can’t even open it. She’s lost her password three times. She finally just gave up,” Liz says. This is concerning! Madeline should know how to open an app! Probably not unrealistic, though. When you’re that senior, you probably don’t need to know how to use a messaging app. And messaging apps can be confusing sometimes. Like, I still don’t understand how to use Discord.

The captions have a line I can’t hear in this scene—Liz (I presume?) saying “You know, ‘cause it’s Madeline.” This makes it sound like Madeline is a little less than competent, no?

“Thanks for sitting down with me, Liz,” Diane says in a quite serious tone. “Of course. So, you’re wondering about the meeting today?” Liz immediately understands. “I am.” “Yeah. Uh, it was about Julius. He’s being harassed on Dawnk,” Liz explains.

“Okay, and I couldn’t be a part of that?” Diane wants to know. “He’s being harassed because he’s defending your husband,” Liz explains. Diane doesn’t seem surprised (perhaps because she, too, would have read these messages?). “Well, that’s unfortunate. We’ve represented people far worse than Kurt, who, by the way, was found innocent,” Diane argues like they’re having a very different conversation. It’s one thing to represent rapists and murderers and drug lords—and I’d argue that the same people pissed about Kurt are also pissed about them!-- and another for your leadership to be married to/close friends with someone who you believe participated in the events of 1/6.

“I’m not saying it wasn’t. But, January 6th. I mean, we watched the Confederate flag make its way into the Capitol building. You know, those people that Kurt didn’t want to turn over to the FBI, those people. They don’t even want us alive,” Liz says better than I ever could. I think it’s important that Liz mentions a POV that likely wouldn’t have ever crossed Diane’s mind here. This is a small glimpse of why it could be so important to have black leadership at a black firm. Would Diane be thinking about the implications of having the Confederate flag in the Capitol? Probably not in the same way that Liz instantly does.

“Well, not all of them,” Diane Lockhart, who is suddenly an idiot, says. Liz looks at her drink and grimaces, and Diane realizes she’s said something wrong. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that. I’m certainly not defending those people. They’re all despicable traitors.”

“And now, that’s what people are saying about Julius,” Liz explains. “And me?” Diane asks, though she already knows the answer. Liz doesn’t want to answer that. Before she can say anything, Diane asks if she’s being pushed out.

“No. Not pushed out. You’re a name partner. You can’t be pushed out,” Liz clarifies. Diane knows there’s a but. “The partners just think you should do the right thing,” Liz adds.

“And step aside?” Diane asks. “No. Stay in the firm. Stay as an equity partner, just step back from your managerial role,” Liz says. Diane pauses. “Liz, I... I pull in the big clients. I... I get the billable hours. But still, ‘maybe you should step aside.’ Weren’t we going to form a firm led by women?” Diane argues. Oh, wow, I have so much to say.

First, I completely understand why Diane doesn’t want to give up her title or her power. She's Diane Lockhart! She’s been one of the best in her field for decades. She’s not wrong about the clients and billable hours. It’s just that every time Diane decides to be at this firm, making arguments about how she should retain her role in power, she’s saying that she values her own career/appearance more than the values she claims to care about. And every time she refuses to take a back seat or threatens to walk rather than sacrifice, she’s saying she’ll only through her weight behind her colleagues and their mission if she gets credit for it. To be clear, I don’t think it would be the shittiest decision in the world if Diane decided to walk, to take her clients to a new firm and to let RL become the firm Madeline and the rest envision. It’s asking a lot of her to give up that power and prestige. The interesting part of this dilemma is, to me, that Diane claims to value working for RL and to be active in the fight against racism... but the second she’s forced to choose between that fight and her own power, we all know what Diane is going to choose. There was never really any doubt. Diane doesn’t have to be on the forefront of this fight if she doesn’t want to... but she can’t claim to be invested in the fight if she isn’t willing to sacrifice, at all.

Second, LMAO at this firm led by women idea. Every time Diane talks about her firm led by women idea it sounds sillier! Not because a firm led by women is silly, but because Diane has a habit of saying this like it is a shared goal and each time she references it, it sounds less and less intersectional. For example, when she says it here, she’s essentially saying a firm led by women only has meaning if one of those women is a white woman (specifically a white woman named Diane Lockhart). Who’s to say that Madeline wouldn’t be made partner in Diane’s absence? Or Barbara (haha) or someone else we haven’t met? There is a very real possibility that Liz and another woman could run the firm and Diane would still be unhappy about it. Diane doesn’t ask Liz for a commitment that if she does step aside, her replacement would be female (idk if it’s legal to make this commitment but you get my point). Diane acts like asking her to step aside is already a betrayal of the female led firm.

“And I hope that it will be,” Liz says, basically hinting to Diane that there are women in the world besides her.

“But black women?” Diane says, agitatedly. “Diane, I... am not voting against you. I promised you that I wouldn’t. But there is growing anger here. They want to address it at the next partners' meeting. So just think about it,” Liz responds.

I think Liz is totally fair and forthcoming in this scene and strikes pretty much the right tone for this initial conversation. She gives Diane a choice and is honest with her.

“You’re a good person,” Liz adds. Diane does a double-take, understanding that Liz is actually telling her “You are a good person, so you know that you absolutely need to step aside.”

“No, I’m not!” Diane responds. As I said: Diane already knows what she is going to do. She needs to do mental gymnastics to excuse her actions, but her mind was made up before the question was even raised. (She did warn Liz in 5x01 she was going to fight any attempt to push her out.)

“Yes, you are,” Liz says again. She may as well be saying, “No, don’t try this. Everyone will think you’re in the wrong if you push this.”

Later, at home, Diane is doing some stretches on the floor and groaning. I don’t know if this scene is meant to show her age, but it does remind me that Diane is nearly 70 and started off this show by planning to retire. Retirement doesn’t seem to be an option for her here. (That’s fine by me; she is a workaholic whose career is her life.)

Kurt asks Diane what she wants to do. She says she wants to keep her name on the letterhead and “keep what I fought for.” Heh, I was just re-reading something I wrote about Cary a while ago and I’d pointed out that when Alicia and Cary discuss merging with what’s left of LG, Cary is also concerned about his name on the letterhead because even though he wants to change the world, he also cares about having power. It’s almost like Diane and Cary are really similar characters! (They are! That’s why the Diane/Cary moment in Hitting the Fan is so good!)

Diane calls her position as name partner a fight against “gender and then age discrimination.” She isn’t wrong, especially when you consider how meaningful it likely was when she and Stern went into business together. It’s very easy for me to forget that when Diane has such an attachment to fighting for white women’s rights, it’s not just because she’s out of touch and selfish: it’s because that was something she personally had to fight for. That doesn’t make it okay that she seems to forget the concept of intersectionality (which she’s definitely aware of) the second anything challenges her own power, but it does explain why a firm run by women is so important to her.

Diane is not wrong that she deserves name partnership and she’s not wrong to not want to step aside. Yet, starting a war to retain her position as name partner is a CHOICE. The best thing for Diane to do here (morally, I mean) would be for her to step aside and throw her resources behind the firm’s new leadership, using her experiences and stature to benefit the firm (this would also be a way for her to cement her legacy and mentor a new generation of leaders). The best compromise, I think, would be for someone to leave the current firm—either Diane or the dissenting partners, probably Diane since Liz seems to agree with Madeline—without any hard feelings. The worst possible choice is for Diane to insist that this firm is hers and force every single tension at the firm to come to a head, screwing over Liz in the process and potentially permanently ruining the firm’s status as a black firm. Sooo... yeah.

(I say it could ruin the firm’s status as a black firm because if Diane’s a white partner who happens to be there and the firm is mostly black, that’s one thing. If Diane is a white partner who fought all of the black partners to assert her own dominance over their firm... that’s hard to come back from. She can’t really call herself an ally, can she?)

“Diane, this is the first time I’ve ever heard you sound defeated,” Kurt says. “Because I can’t win this,” she says. She insists she can’t even after Kurt tries to cheer her on (of course he does, he probably thinks having an all black firm is just identity politics and therefore worthless).

“You just don’t want to,” Kurt says. He is not wrong. This is a winnable fight for Diane. Liz is smart but Diane has the experience, the clients, the power, and her own reputation to use in this fight. Liz has her dad’s name (and I don’t think it would come to this, but Diane knows how she can pretty easily destroy Liz’s dad’s reputation). (Liz is great, don’t get me wrong. Liz is also someone who happened into a name partnership because her dad was important.)

“It’s bigger than that. To fight this would go against every fiber of my being,” Diane says. “Every fiber in your being is about winning,” Kurt counters. Oh, damn. That’s a succinct way of putting it. He is completely right. Diane would love to think that every fiber of her being is about her commitment to social justice and women’s rights. It is not. If that were the case, would she really be a lawyer with clients like ChumHum, Bishop, Sweeney, Rivi, and Wolfe-Colman? We all know the answer to this. We all know Diane likes social justice a lot but winning, wealth, and power far more.

When I first watched TGW, now nearly a decade ago, I was a high schooler and my media diet mostly consisted of Desperate Housewives and a bunch of procedurals like Bones and Castle. The thing that hooked me about TGW—more than Alicia’s journey, more than anything—was that TGW never had easy answers to anything. Will tells Diane in 1x07 that “nothing here is pure and nothing here is simple” and that basically blew my mind. TGW always made it obvious that Will was morally gray, which fascinated me. But I struggled with Diane. Here was this woman who looked like she should be someone so impressive and inspirational I could write a college admissions essay about her (I did not, but that was my frame of reference at the time)… but the decisions she made... never seemed all that great?? I couldn’t comprehend it.

When Blue Ribbon Panel aired in March 2012, I wrote to a friend, “Diane confused me a little bit tonight. She didn’t approve of Alicia standing up to the panel, and yet, she’s supposed to care about people, the truth, morality, etc etc. I never understand Diane’s motivations– is her philosophy to help others whenever it wouldn’t hurt her, personally, to do so?”

At that point, Diane compromising her values struck me as something confusing because I wanted to think of her as a powerful role model and icon, and I didn’t know what to do with someone who looked like and often was role model material who also sometimes betrayed her values for her own self-interest. I had my analysis of Diane down: she her motivations ARE to help others whenever it wouldn’t hurt her, personally, to do so. All I needed to do was remove my question mark from the end of that thought.

I promise I’ll move on from quoting myself, but I also want to share a paragraph I wrote about Diane in March 2014 (during season five of Wife) because it says what I want to say now as well as anything I could write today:

Diane is driven and ambitious. Her initial actions can come as the result of intense emotions, but given enough time and space, Diane will always be strategic and pragmatic when it comes to business. She’s spent her entire life putting her career first, and she wouldn’t have it any other way. That she found love is just icing. Kurt aside, the two most important things to Diane are advancing her own self-interest and doing good in the world. These objectives appear to be a contradiction, and often, they are. Nine times out of ten, when it comes down to it, she’ll choose herself. I mean no judgment here: another central aspect of Diane’s character is that she’s upfront about her choices and stands by them, and this sort of moral ambiguity makes for a great character.

The reason I quote myself here is not to be like, ha ha, I was right. It's because I think this episode is even more powerful because I can copy/paste in stuff I wrote nine years ago or seven years ago (oh god, 2014 was seven years ago?) verbatim and it can hold up as analysis. Both Fight and Wife have always implied Diane’s selfish side and given more than enough evidence to make a convincing argument about it, but they’ve never really engaged with it directly (and if you ask the social media teams for either show, Diane is a #queen who can never do wrong). This episode interrogates something that’s always been an unpleasant part of Diane’s character, and I’m so fucking glad about it.

(I don’t think anyone’s accusing Diane of not growing as a person but it crossed my mind that this could be seen as lack of growth. I don’t think it is. I wouldn’t expect Diane to change. Her life and career are so set that growth on this without a LOT of struggle on her part would feel like a cop out.)

Another reason I quote myself is to highlight how friggin’ character driven this episode is. I’ve seen a lot of people saying this episode felt like old-school TGW—and it absolutely does; that’s also how I felt—and I think that’s because it’s so character focused and meaty.

But back to this scene. Kurt tells Diane that if she doesn’t try to win she should just give up entirely. Seems like bad advice.

“Kurt, I appreciate the pep talk, but I don’t think the way you think. I cannot put my interests above a whole group of people—black people—just so I can keep my position.” Sure you can, Diane. You just don’t like to believe that about yourself. You know how Diane says to Kurt earlier that she knows the NRA will offer him the job? That is how I feel about this scene. The writers go to great lengths to explain where Diane’s head is at when she decides to fight for her partnership, but they’d have needed to do ten times more to get me to believe Diane would step aside voluntarily.

Kurt basically thinks that Diane should fight because if her competition is actually talented enough to deserve name partnership, they should fight her for it. He’s missing the point here.

“But a black person’s talent has always been valued less than mine,” Diane counters. The fact she knows and understands this makes her decision even less forgivable.

Kurt knows he’s going to lose this argument and tries the same strategy he did on 5x01: telling Diane she’s right and should just give up and leave the firm. Diane doesn’t like that answer either.

Given how much I loathed Jay’s hallucinations, I was expecting that when Diane asks Kurt in the middle of the night if he believes the election was stolen and then sits down at her fireplace to have a chat with Ruth Bader Ginsburg, I’d loathe what happened next. I did not! I actually really liked it!

I think this is more effective than Jay’s hallucinations, at least for me, because it's less gimmicky. It isn’t played for humor or quirk, and it gets to the character-driven point a LOT faster. This feels more similar to Alicia imagining Gloria Steinem is telling her she’s good enough to be on the Supreme Court in 6x03 than it does to Jay’s hallucinations.

I LOVE that Diane would dream that RBG would advise her on her work dilemma. Dream!RBG tells Diane that “any law firm would be insane to let you go.” (I don’t wanna spend too much time fighting dream logic, but I feel like the operative phrase here is ‘let you go’. Are the RL partners seeing this as letting Diane go? Or are they just trying to get at a different goal and Diane is in the way, and they don’t really care if Diane has top connections or billable hours? It’s almost like the other RL partners want a firm that stands for something and all Diane has stood for thus far at the firm is profit...)

Diane pushes back on RBG and RBG shares her “real” thoughts. This is where this sequence clicks into place for me, because it’s working on a LOT of levels. Obviously, Diane is going to imagine that her hero tells her to do exactly what she wants to do (the aforementioned mental gymnastics). But without losing the level on which this is dream!RBG and filtered through Diane’s POV, the writers are also... criticizing RBG for not stepping down herself!? It’s fascinating and pointed and makes her the exact right choice to play Diane’s conscience.

Dream!RBG shares her life story and notes how she was always asked to step aside, but she didn’t and that’s how she got to be RBG. “Don’t step aside because someone wants you to. Don’t step aside for politics. Men are always asking women to step aside so a man can go first,” RBG advises Diane. Even Diane knows that this isn’t exactly equal to her current situation-- “Even though I’m being asked to step aside so that a black person can take my place?” she counters.

So RBG asks if Diane can still do something “for women” if she says. Diane says yes, and RBG says Diane should do that instead of stepping aside—she should do whatever it takes. That’s the wrong takeaway, Diane! If you want to do something for women then a) you could do something for the black women at your firm lol or b) you could politely remove yourself from the firm, encourage your most profitable clients to stay on if they are wanted by the other partners or and/or c) you could choose to bring your talent and your stature to a non-profit. But, of course, these options aren’t on the table. There’s a reason the options are leave and lose everything or stay and fight for name partnership, and it’s that Diane cares about maintaining control of what she sees as hers and winning more than she cares about anything else, including or even especially her desire to help women.

And also what women is she even helping at RL? Herself? She’s certainly not helping Wolfe-Coleman's rape victim. The closest she’s recently come to helping women is when she told off Weinstein’s lawyer and tried to start #MeToo... in a DREAM.

The score for the next sequence sounds so familiar and I can’t place it. At first, I thought it was Hitting the Fan, but I’m not sure if that’s the right reference (also, damn, the Hitting the Fan score is REALLY GOOD!). I think it might be similar to 5x14 when Alicia’s pacing back and forth in the hotel room.

Anyway, Diane starts meeting with her (white, male) clients to tell them about how she’s stepping aside. She hasn’t run this past any of the other partners, of course. She’s doing exactly what they want, in the most malicious and calculated way possible.

One of her clients is a fracking client who wants to win over democrats by being a RL client.

Diane is so sneaky here! No one said that if Diane steps aside as partner she can’t handle the day to day on her cases... yet that’s what Diane tells this client since she knows it’ll make him mad!

Diane makes a point of showing her fracking client that his new representation will be Madeline. He doesn’t know anything about Madeline, and, as Diane was likely counting on, he isn’t confident in having a black woman he’s less “comfortable” with on his cases. I don’t know if Diane was going for the racial element here, but... if you’re really concerned about continuity, you don’t have this meeting without having Madeline ready to jump in and show she’s read up on the client. I’m sure it’s possible that Diane meant nothing in giving this client only Madeline’s name, title, gender, and race to go off of, but is that likely?

She hands another (white, male) client off to Julius, whom she describes as a “very competent lawyer.” What an introduction. She says she’s not retiring and the firm “just wants to let some other people step forward into a name partner position.” Diane knows how to sell clients on changes they won’t like. She knows this isn’t how you do it.

That phrase, “comfortable with you” is doing a lot of work, no? Both clients so far have said it, and while it might not be racially coded... it’s racially coded.

“Who should we call about it?” the clients ask. Diane can barely keep herself from smiling.

They call David Lee, immediately. He takes the call in the middle of a meeting, while someone else is talking—he is David Lee, after all.

The information on the screen in David’s meeting is quite interesting. It’s about STRL’s plans for RL. Here’s how the firm is described: “RL is a high-end mid-sized Chicago law firm that can consolidate its specialized brand within the American POC community and expand its national and global brand with STR Laure.” Soooo... yeah. For the corporate overloards, RL needs it to be just black enough that it appears like a black firm, but they care more about appearances and branding than anything of substance. (Notice how it says “POC” and not black? Notice how there’s this mention of national and global presence that doesn’t seem to be on the RL partners’ mind?)

There’s an area called room for growth, listing top clients—entertainment law, fracking, the DNC, and civil cases against CPD. Interestingly, two of these are Liz’s clients (entertainment and DNC), one is Adrian’s (civil cases against CPD), and only fracking is Diane’s... so maybe I didn’t give Liz enough credit earlier.

There’s also a plan of action that includes partners working with STRL and the 15-20% layoffs we already know about. I don’t think this text is meant to include any new info, but I assume one of the writers had a hand in writing it and it’s a good way of confirming things that had been subtext.

Wackner’s reality show looks... well, like his court, because his court always looked like a reality show. Cutting together the most out-there moments (audience reaction cards, Wackner singing “Come on defense!”, Wackner renaming himself Judge Shmuley for a day) makes Wackner look pretty bad.

Hey Liz, I thought you figured out how to silence your notifications for Dawnk permanently. (It’s not all high-stakes controversy over on the “R&L General” channel—the anon animals are now discussing a broken coffee maker.) (Though even this discussion is a bit political! Anon Owl says they bet STR’s coffee machine works, and Anon Dolphin wants to know why they don’t have more coffee maters at RL.)

There’s also a dance party—which Marissa participates in—in the footage of Wackner.

Hey, wouldn’t Marissa have reported the cameras to Diane and Liz? I feel like she’d know they’d want to know.

Wackner ends up on the stand to offer context for the strange-looking clips. In a smart move, Liz offers to just let Judge Farley ask questions—she knows that’s what Farley is really after.

Unsurprisingly, Wackner’s context makes his outrageous practices seem much more reasonable. There’s a scoreboard to keep lawyers aware of where they’re standing so they can gauge instead of guess at Wackner’s thought process. Shmuley is to honor a recently deceased relative. The costumes are to prevent bias and cut down entitlement.

Plaintiff’s counsel argues that Wackner is biased and the case continues even though Wackner’s (mostly) won over Farley.

The case next turns to something about copyright law that sounds downright silly—the point is to underline that Wackner’s court makes more sense than real court on some things. It makes more common sense and it’s less racist.

Del gets called into court. It’s interesting how these scenes are blocked together rather than spread out. The same is true of Diane’s scenes—after credits, we have Diane and Liz at the bar, Diane at home, Diane talking to RBG, Diane making moves, and then David Lee becoming aware of the situation. Then we have several consecutive court scenes (all of which feel like they have natural break points) of Wackner stuff. If I had to guess, I would guess that it’s to keep the momentum going. The Diane stuff plays better when it feels like a continuous chain rather than a subplot.

(The only thing that suffers is that I have no idea why there’s a court scene about copyright law right after the plaintiff argues they have evidence about Wackner’s bias? I probably wouldn’t have even noticed if the scenes had been spread out more.)

Now Cord’s involvement with Wackner’s court becomes an issue. It’s funny they need a witness to bring up Cord when Cord is SITTING IN THE COURT ROOM.

Apparently Cord is financing a company that would compete with the plaintiff’s company and this means Wackner is biased. As the next scene will explain, Cord wasn’t even aware of his investment in the rival company, and Wackner certainly wasn’t. But, regardless, it’s going to be challenging to prove that neither Wackner nor Cord knew about the investment, and the opposition is going to go after Cord’s financial records, which no one wants. Liz suggests a continuance, which would give Wackner about a year to keep working on his court before they have to come back to this issue.

Wackner HATES the idea of delays and is all, THIS IS WHY I HAVE MY OWN COURT and again, he isn’t wrong.

David Lee needs to see Liz, now. Liz and Diane meet in David Lee’s office and stare at their phones. Diane says she has no idea what the meeting is about, even though she basically set up the meeting herself.

“What the fuck is going on?” David Lee says. Diane feigns surprise and asks for more specifics. David Lee reveals that four top clients have called with issues about their representation shifting.

Liz knows what’s going on and aggressively says, “Diane, thoughts?” “Nothing from me. I met with my clients. I just told them of a restructuring that I was being told about,” Diane says like it’s no big deal. Liz and Diane both know that Diane forced this meeting.

“Is this a power play on your part?” Liz asks Diane. “No, it’s just updating my clients,” Diane says for David Lee’s benefit or commitment to the bit or something. It is definitely a power play, and a nearly unforgivable one done to an ally.

“David, Diane was told about frustration at the partner level about a white woman being a name partner in a black firm. And apparently, this is her response,” Liz explains. “I just told our clients what was going on,” Diane defends. David Lee doesn’t really care about what happened: he cares about one thing, and that thing is money.

“Diane’s a fucking name partner until STR Laurie says she’s not. No one decides until I decide. Now stick your race war back in its bottle,” David Lee says. I mean, basically, yeah, that’s what happens when you merge with a huge firm that only cares about profit.

I like that this ends up coming back to STRL. You can’t really have a conversation about RL’s identity without also acknowledging that RL is not independently owned. Sure, STRL will care at some point if RL loses its clout with the black community—but like most companies, they care about guaranteed loss of profit and the short term more than long-term what-ifs. It may sound cynical, but if Madeline and all of the other partners quit, STRL would simply put all their effort into keeping Liz or even just the Reddick name and would then hire black lawyers who think more like Julius than Madeline to keep the reputation. STRL does not give a shit about helping anyone, and that’s what Diane counts on.

I do not believe the version of RL that Madeline wants can exist when they’re under STRL’s control. I believe the version Diane wants (not really a black firm) can, and I believe the version Liz seems to want (one that’s mostly black and occasionally social justice focused) can, but this issue won’t go away until STRL does.

Sure, Diane, keep telling yourself you’re fighting the good fight out here.

(Perhaps “The Good Fight” is a more ironic and fraught title than it originally seemed.)

“That was a mistake. I am on your side, and you don’t even realize it,” Liz tells Diane afterwards. Interesting that Liz says “I am” and not “I was.” I would love to know what Liz really thinks about this situation and hope we get more from her POV next week. I think Liz wants to run a black firm, but I also think she wants to run a successful firm and likes working with Diane. Liz is on Diane’s side about as much as she can be while still advocating for Diane to step down.

Pissing off Liz is a very interesting move for Diane here, too. Diane wants to fight the one person who is on her side for control of a firm that doesn’t want her there, and she’s convinced herself this is the smart move! Kind of wild. What does Diane think the day to day will look like? I think I said this above, but in forcing this war, Diane is all but guaranteeing that if she wins, RL will only be a black firm in that STRL will say it’s one to make more money.

Julius and Diane chat next. Julius says he wants to start his own firm—with Diane. Her only reaction is laughter, but, like, this is probably happening. I’m not sure why she laughs. It’s not quite a case of unfortunate timing (Diane could’ve done this before she blew things up, and it’s not quite too late for Diane to commit to leaving and smooth things over with Liz), so maybe it’s just a “well, this sounds familiar!” laugh.

(If you think of Previously On as 5x00 instead of 5x01, that would make this episode 5x05, which would make this a Hitting the Fan callback. I can also do mental gymnastics!)

The episode could end there, but it doesn’t. We’ve still got a Wackner plot to resolve. Cord has some people beat up the plaintiff as a way of enforcing Wackner’s verdict and getting the real court case to go away. Marissa picks up on what’s happened faster than Wackner does, unless Wackner just doesn’t care.

It’s subtle, but throughout this episode, there’s a little bit of a trend towards Marissa becoming more skeptical of Wackner. She tries to keep him under control in court, tries to reason with him about the continuance, and in this scene, she just looks entirely displeased and alarmed every time she’s on camera.

We get another scene with RBG. “It’s different for me than it was for you,” Diane says. She notes that unlike RBG, she herself is up against another “dominated culture.” This other dominated culture is “black lawyers.” (I’m sorry, I just find the way she says “black lawyers” funny, partially because she says “lawyers” instead of people and partially because Diane seems insistent on only occasionally remembering that Liz is both black and female.)

I can’t tell if this scene was originally intended to close the episode or not. The blocks of scenes, the way the episode seems like it should’ve ended with Julius’s laugh but instead has three more scenes (guy getting beat up, Wackner’s court, this one), and the fact the Kings said this episode had to be almost totally rethought because both Christine and Audra had concerns about the original script all suggest to me that maybe some of the scenes in this episode got shuffled around to keep momentum and hit the right notes at the right time.

Diane acknowledges that RBG could’ve stepped down and we wouldn’t have a conservative majority on the court now if she had. RBG insists that she wouldn’t have stepped aside even if Obama had guaranteed that her replacement would be black. She says it’s because she only knows what she can do—not what others would do. And “what you know is always better than what might happen.”

Even if this was originally supposed to happen earlier (Diane saying she doesn’t know what to do makes me feel like it way), I like that we get to see it’s still weighing on Diane after the fact.

(Also, I have seen some comments about, for lack of a better phrase, the girl power energy of these Diane and RBG scenes. No! These scenes aren’t a tribute to RBG! She’s in these scenes because she didn’t step down and can thus help Diane excuse her own actions! These scenes aren’t exactly anti-RBG, but they are certainly critical of some of her choices!)

The topic shifts to Diane and Kurt’s relationship (another reason to put this somewhere other than the main part of the episode; this would slow down the momentum of the middle part of the episode) and its similarity to RBG’s friendship with Scalia.

Tbh, I don’t think a friendship and a marriage are all that similar on this front and I’d be curious to see Diane think about RBG/Scalia in the context of her potential partnership with Julius rather than her marriage.

RBG basically tells Diane to stay with Kurt. Diane thanks her, and then, back in reality, tells Kurt to take the NRA job so he’ll be happy—and then she’ll just sue him. Okay, that feels like an episode ending, so I am REALLY curious about all the re-writing and re-structuring that happened in this episode and what did/didn’t get touched. I can’t make up my mind about what feels out of place.

So we start out with Diane feeling like it might be the right thing to explore whether or not it still makes sense for her to be with Kurt, a suspected insurrectionist and future NRA employee, and Diane feeling like she wants to help her friends and partners at her mostly black firm do good in the world. And we end with Diane doubling down on her relationship with Kurt, giving her blessing for the NRA job, and fucking over her colleagues because she wants to keep her own power. Dark! I love it.

This episode does this all without making Diane entirely unsympathetic, which is astounding. While I think Diane knowingly makes choices that further her self-interest over the values she (claims to?) hold and I am definitely NOT Team Diane on her decisions in this episode, this episode could easily have been less interesting and complex. It’s understandable that Diane would not want to step aside from a firm she’s helped build—who would? It’s understandable that Diane might not feel the passion for a black firm the way she does for a female firm. It’s understandable that Diane might not want to blow up her marriage, despite her political differences from Kurt. This episode allows Diane to be just sympathetic enough she never becomes a flat villain, but never sympathetic enough that someone could mistake this episode for one that shows Diane as a morally pure hero. Personally, I love that in a TV show. That’s the exact kind of writing that made me love Alicia Florrick enough that I still spend a considerable amount of time thinking about her character arc even though TGW ended half a decade ago. It’s what’s been missing from a lot of TGF episodes for me, and why I’ve said that TGF seems like a show more about theme than character. It’s why I’ve written—oh god, TEN THOUSAND words—about this episode.

I have no clue what’s going to happen next, but I hope it includes more character-driven drama (ideally with a lot of good material for Liz) and not a lot of firm-jumping shenanigans.

#tgf thoughts #the good fight

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writing-for-me-at-this-point · 4 years

Text

ii. Fun Facts About The Cast | Actor Au | Obey Me

Request: Its not, I love this AU tho

Word Count: 2303 words

Page Count: 6.5 pages

A.N. Hope you guys all like this! Fun facts about the cast lmao

[ Actor AU Masterlist ]

Fun Facts

Benjamin ( Lucifer )

- Is the dad of the cast.

- In any scenes with Dmitri ( Luke ), he makes sure to know if he is alright, and often will stop scenes to ask.

- He also is an overall joker, so he has trouble filming most of his scenes, will often start laughing in the middle of filming and can break character the easiest.

- Best with kids overall, probably due to having his own, keeps their lives private tho.

- His hair was white for a past show, but the directors liked the look, so that's why he has white tips.

- One of the few male characters who cannot do those diets to accentuate his abs- so that's why his character is always covered up.

- He's in shape! But, he likes the fat that protects his muscle, he says he needs to stay soft to hug his kids.

- Known diabetic, so there's a table full of foods so his sugars are stable, the cast has glucagon shots all over the sets to be safe.

- Is in his early thirties, but people say he can pull off early twenties- he just snorts at this.

Avery ( Mammon )

- Takes the job seriously, and his scenes are easiest to film.

- Dark humor and often is the "Lucifer" of the cast.

- Seeing him switch from Avery to Mammon leaves the rest of the cast and crew fucking s h o o k.

- Will always be seen looking his finest.

- No, no one has seen him in public in sweatpants or anything like that. His image is very serious.

- Is a sweetheart when with the rest of the cast tho.

- His eyes are actually that blue.

- No one is sure if his hair is actually white or not, the way he speaks about it is vague, and fans are always theorizing.

- Watching over Benji ( Lucifer ), and is usually the one to tell him to check his sugars, since the other is quite forgetful.

- Is an immigrant from Turkey, so he has an accent, makes people thirst for him more.

- Helps aspiring actors and directors get into the field, and goes on hard work and talent, not who tries to pay him off.

Jackson ( Leviathan )

- Is the resident fuckboi.

- Always with males and females hanging off him, at this point the pop gave up, no- they aren't his partner.

- Flexes a shit ton.

- Wearing chains, a Rolex, and anything designer.

- Donates half of his salary to ocean reserves and protection funds, he has the money for it, and the show pays him well.

- Always at the beach, or near lake houses and shit, the one ( 1 ) thing he likes about his character.

- Hates the fringe he wears with a passion.

- His hair is actually a light shade of brown, his eyes are a darker shade, but still pretty light.

- First generation, his parents are Korean, so you can pick up hints of their accent in his speech patterns. Gets heavy when he's sleepy.

Ross ( Satan )

- Is a stoner.

- Goes on Instagram lives with either MC and gets high, talking about the dumbest shit or he's alone in his room and his cats join in.

- "So, if you think about- oH MY GOD PRINCESS. YES, COME TO DADDY."

- Has a kitten curled up on him, purrs loud as hell because mf is so warm, and the lives turn into purring ASMR sessions.

- Into self care, has a line of vitamins, face masks, and everything you can think of.

- Calls his fans his SaStans.

- Dmitri ( Luke ) is his younger brother.

- Will never let him out of his sight, and they love to be as mean as they can to each other, they love each other but love to bully one another.

- Is from the Bronx, so his accent is what Avery ( Mammon ) mimics for his character, often just records Avery's lines and sends them to him so he can practice.

- Owns an animal shelter he funds.

- "Carol Baskin? Who's that?"

- The REAL tiger king.

- Gets all his cats dyed to look like tigers.

Micheal ( Asmodeus )

- Chill as fuck.

- Has like 5+ kids, so the role fits him perfectly, and now it's an on running joke among fans that they are all his illegitimate children.

- You know why Asmodeus on the show wears so much makeup?

- His eldest daughter is one of the makeup artists, and she loves to try new looks on him, and the producers think it would fit the character well.

- People speculate his age, looks young but is in his late 30's.

- His first child was born when he was 16, so he likes to support safe heavens and things like that for struggling youths- from being kicked out to needing assistance with mental health.

- Tired af.

- Always in sweatpants, him and Ross ( Satan ) are the trademark bums of the cast.

- Thinks it would be hilarious that when Micheal is revealed, in the show, that he plays the character.

- Is a writer as well, TSL is a real series and he writes it, so they let him use it in the show.

- Vlogs in his car, in a Wendy's parking lot, eating a shit ton of food and talking about the most random shit.

- Half asleep in all interviews, wearing a hoodie and sweatpants, it's gotten to the point where everyone memes it too.

James ( Beelzebub )

- Himbo.

- One of the few cast members closest to their character.

- Absolute sweetheart.

- He's 20 years old.

- But how is he so fucking big???

- Comes from a big ass family, the middle child, he's baby 4 out of 9.

- All his siblings are redheads too.

- Very playful tho, with the cast always going along with his antics, making for the best bloopers.

- The contacts he wears make him blind af, which doesn't help since he's so tall, and will bump his head on the doorways and such.

- Can speak Scottish-Gaelic, and even has an accent to top it off.

- He is an absolute unit, and one of the characters who does the stupid diet to show off his form.

- Literally on the verge of passing out sometimes, so he needs to rest with Benjamin ( Lucifer ).

- All pictures, shirtless scenes, and such are filmed first so he can rest after and go back to a normal diet.

- Quiet guy, but loves talking about sports and his siblings tho.

- Is always carrying MC and Dmitri ( Luke ) around, now there are many off-guard photos posted to the casts shared twitter+instagram accounts

- Still pretty new to acting, but is amazing at emotional scenes, to the point fans actually think he's having a breakdown.

- Nah, he's just thinking about being alone, without his family- and it gets him bawling for said scenes.

Conner ( Belphegor )

- Crackhead

- Will not stay still, either for filming or just when everyone is chilling.

- Scenes where he's asleep? He's usually turned away from the camera, cause the idiot is smiling and giggling.

- Has tripped over his tail multiple times.

- Comes from a farm-life, literal cowboy, his southern accent just hits hard.

- He hides it very well, but it comes out at times or with certain words.

- Sees Benjamin ( Lucifer ) as a mentor, he's in his early twenties and new to the scene, but they are best friends.

- Benjamin ( Lucifer ) has now acquired a new child.

- A living meme.

- You know how Tom Holland can't keep a secret?

- Yeah, he's worse.

- Rest of the cast have all had to physically stop him from talking at one point.

- The cow pillow? It's actually his, when he got the role his father has sewn it himself, so he will bring it with him.

- It's basically free promo for the show and comforts him in the city space.

- Gets overwhelmed in large crowds, so he usually makes sure to have another cast member close by, or he will literally leave to a less crowded place to take a breath.

- Apologized to MC after the scene in which he kills them.

- His mama raised him right, so he takes MC to his house for a movie, in which they cuddle and relax for the night.

- Felt really bad for like... a whole week.

- "Country boy I love you~"

Thomas ( Barbatos )

- Brat.

- This is one cocky man, he's smooth as hell, and one whisper can make you weak in the knees.

- Grew out the one side of his hair, but he slicks his hair back or will pin it back, dyes it himself when it's time to film.

- Loves to piss Alex ( Simeon ) off.

- Has a true crime podcast with Roman ( Diavolo ), Alex ( Simeon ), and Benjamin ( Lucifer ), because they're all old friends.

- Donates to the cold case foundation because he knows what it's like to lose someone and not know what happened to them.

- He has a twin who is his stunt double, they love to fuck with the rest of the cast, both of them are little shits.

- Is the motherfucker who makes a channel and reads the crackhead fanfics

- Loves every word of it tho.

- Responds to every fans dms. Every. One. As a whole account for this shit.

- Walks with a bit of a limp, so he wears a brace to help even himself, but during wide-shot scenes you can catch it sometimes.

- Took actual classes to be a butler for the role.

Roman ( Diavolo )

- Himbo 2.0

- Catch this man tweeting what he's trying to search up at 2 in the morning.

- Leaves them because it's hilarious, makes videos where he reads them out sometimes, it's all in good fun.

- He has a set of triplets at home, so that dad energy radiates into the show too.

- You know how Diavolo seems sus at points of the game? Yeah, he's still like that IRL.

- The rest of the cast was put off at first, but that's how he is, and everyone eased up pretty quickly.

- Makes jokes that he has family in the Italian mob, but needed to stop once his father called him, saying that there were too many eyes on the family now.

- Man was s h o o k.

- Has sensitive skin, so all his makeup and body paints need to be specially made, made with all natural products.

- The bags under his eyes are baby bags.

- Will bring his kids on set, to which everyone will gush over, and watch them when they aren't filming.

- Very private with his kids ( to the public ), doesn't post about them much, and only the cast really sees them.

- Wine dad.

- Catch him bringing the whole cast out for "family trips"

- People nicknamed him Caesar

- So many JoJo references now

- "SHHHHIIIIIZZZAAAAAAAA"

- "Please, no."

Dmitri ( Luke )

- Is actually 12.

- Quotes vines, tiktoks, and other memes.

- Is one of the few people that Alex ( Simeon ) is openly nice too.

- Also has an accent, but since he's young and is learning, can now mimic every other cast member's accent.

- Wear earplugs for certain scenes, because of how raunchy and dark the scenes can get, so Simeon and Barbatos are always conveniently in the way, hiding the plugs.

- Is Ross' ( Satan ) younger brother, and if he isn't hanging off of him he's with James ( Beelzebub ), Benjamin ( Lucifer ), or MC.

- They know there are some sick fucks in Hollywood so he has an adult with him at all times.

- Posts pictures of him cuddling up to his brother and the kittens, new foods he is trying, and some pictures with family.

- He often is considered the new Gordon Ramsay.

- Had a collaboration with him.

- It was amazing.

- Best boy, catch him taking a nap in his ( and Ross' ) trailer, surrounded by tiger kittens.

- The TIGER PRINCE.

Alex ( Simeon )

- Avatar of wrath who?

- The embodiment of "No talk me, I angy"

- Jkjk, though he does have a temper, he only loses it with Benjamin ( Lucifer ), Roman ( Diavolo ), and Thomas ( Barbatos ).

- A sweetheart with all children though, like you know Simeon on the show?

- Yeah, he's only like that with kids.

- And respectable adults.

- Mama raised him well 2.0

- Grew up in NY

- Born in Gucci and Balenciaga.

- Was a child model and slowly expanded to acting.

- Dark humor galore.

- If Simeon met Alex, he'd probably have a stroke, cause THOSE WORDS are coming out of HIS mouth.

- Says the weirdest shit too.

- "Put your hand on my ass and call me a virgin."

- Bro are you okay???

- He is fluent in five languages and has a high IQ.

- Speaks: English, French, Italian, Arabic, and Mandarin

- Has a support system for children who struggle to learn conventionally, with trained tutors who are affordable, he knows what it's like to need certain needs met to learn, and he wants every kid to get that chance.

- Rough around the edges but has a heart of gold.

Derek ( Solomon )

- Loves to smoke with Ross ( Satan )

- He is more aloof than chill.

- One of the more awkward members, doesn't know how to socialize well, and is very shy.

- Watch out for Dmitri ( Luke ) on the down low.

- Didn't have the best life growing up, so he is a lot more street smart than book smart.

- Doesn't have a big social media influence.

- Very nice to fans, gives full hugs to them, and everyone feels so appreciated.

- Has a husky named Blue.

- Also has an owl, who he took in when he found it on his porch with a broken wing, and nursed it to health.

- He set it free, but she comes back often, and has a nest in the tree closest to his house.

- Named her Lovely.

- Animal person, so he helps Ross out with his animal shelters.

- Uses Blue as a living pillow, and only sleeps in his boxers when Blue is on his bed, because goddamn does that dog radiate heat.

- Him and MC live together, having grown up together, and made their livings together.

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olivia-anderson-fanfic · 4 years

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A Miraculous TikTok Account

Part 2

First

Listen, Carapace was totally aware that he should be a little more concerned about what was going on. He just didn’t care.

After all, he had heard many horrifying things about college life. He liked Ramen but not enough to eat it for every meal and he wasn’t fond of the idea of explaining to his roommates why exactly he had to disappear every time there was an akuma instead of seeking shelter with them (and his scholarship wasn’t enough for him to afford an apartment to himself)...

So, yeah, having housing and food paid for for as long as Hawkmoth was around -- which, from the looks of it, was going to be until the man died of old age -- was sounding pretty good.

Sure, he’d have to deal with all the other heroes, but they couldn’t all be that bad. Rena and Chat seemed nice enough. Ladybug was nice, too, though she was more uptight than most people he hung out with. And maybe Chloe had grown a bit as a person since they’d gone to school together…

“You will all be maintaining your secret identities,” said Master Fu, pulling Carapace from his thoughts. “It lowers the chances of you slipping up and calling each other your civilian names in the field.”

Chloe’s nose scrunched a little bit. “So we’re going to be in costume the entire time?”

“No. I’ve created masks infused with the same magic that keeps people from figuring out your identities when you’re in costume.” He saw the look on Ladybug’s face and sighed. “You have two masks each, so you can wash them.”

Ladybug relaxed.

“Great, that settles that…” Master Fu pulled his phone from his pocket and tapped the screen a few times. “Next up: what platform will you be using?”

“TikTok, obviously,” said Chloe in a tone that said ‘don’t fight me on this, you won’t win’.

Carapace fought the urge to roll his eyes. He supposed it had been too much to hope that she would be a better person.

Still, he rather liked the idea of TikTok. He was going to film school, after all, it would be fun to use all the different techniques he learned in his classes to enhance his videos. He supposed there was also YouTube or Instagram, but YouTube meant longer content and Instagram meant more regular posts. No, TikTok was probably the way to go.

When no one objected, Master Fu tapped his phone again. Carapace guessed he had some kind of checklist there.

“... right. You’ll need to create accounts now, please.”

Everyone seemed a bit surprised that he wanted it done so soon, but they all pulled out their phones.

They quickly figured out why he wanted them to do it in front of him, though.

Making an account was harder than they thought it was going to be.

They wanted it to make sense for them, but it turns out waiting multiple years to start an account leads to the most relevant names being taken. Who knew?

Ladybug, after many combinations, managed to get @TheRealLadybug. Fair enough, there probably weren’t many english-speakers pretending to be a Parisian hero.

Chloe got frustrated quickly and ended up finding the person who had stolen @QueenBee and had ‘politely suggested’ that they hand over the account name (and by that I mean she threatened them with legal action).

Chat was next. He looked at his phone, lost in thought, and then shrugged. “How much money do you think I should give for the name?”

What the fuck? How much money did he have? They all knew that Chloe was rich but, with a quick glance at Ladybug and Rena’s faces, he found that no one else had been aware that the cat had been rich, too.

“I’d say 15 thousand, at least,” said Chloe.

Chat nodded slowly. “I’ll do 20 just in case.”

What the fuck?!

But they brushed past this quickly (there was just too much for them to unpack there) and everyone looked at Carapace as Chat started talking to whoever it was about the @ChatNoir name.

Carapace thought for a few minutes. He didn’t want to copy Ladybug’s idea and he didn’t exactly have the resources to threaten or buy the name from anyone, so… He shrugged and started testing out stupid puns. After a minute he managed to secure the name @Capotpace. It was absolutely terrible. He loved it.

Finally, Rena was up. She didn’t even hesitate to show them that she had already come up with something: @RenaRogue.

“... I think you misspelled your name,” said Carapace after a few minutes.

Rena frowned and looked at it, then shook her head. “No, it’s just a reference. In America they call their villains Rogues.”

“You’re American?” Said Ladybug.

“Nope!”

How do you even respond to that? Easy: you don’t. Moving on…

Once Chat had managed to get his account set up, everyone followed each other.

Now what?

Master Fu sighed. “Now that that’s done, I’d like to discuss room placement.”

For those of you who don’t know: moving SUCKS.

The whole process is just the absolute worst. You have to choose what you care enough about to keep (and, apparently, “all of it” is not a viable answer), cram it all into boxes, and then get those boxes from one house to the next.

The torture isn’t over, then, though. Then you spend the next few days sleeping on a bare mattress, using some clothes you’d unpacked as makeshift blankets and pillows because you couldn’t remember which box you’d put your sheets in.

And he was doing all of this alone. Master Fu had insisted that they all refrain from bringing their friends and family because of the whole ‘secret identities’ thing.

He dropped onto the couch and glared at the millions of people that Chloe had hired to help her over the rim of his waterbottle. Maybe he should just tell the public his secret identity…

No. That was a bad idea. Unlike Chloe, his family couldn’t afford security guards needed to keep them safe in case Hawkmoth decided that it would be super cool and fun to kidnap a family member for ransom.

He felt someone take a seat next to him on the couch and looked over at Ladybug. She had opted to not be in costume, and it was almost weird to see her in normal clothes. A t-shirt and jeans? That wasn’t allowed. She was only able to wear black and red dresses, he was pretty sure that was a law or something.

He gave her a tired smile. “Salu -- sorry, bonjour.”

She blinked at him a few times. And, oh, she had blue eyes. Wild.

“Might as well say salut, we’re ‘friends’ now,” she said.

She held out a hand to him and he stared at it. After a second’s confusion he shook her hand.

She blinked again. “I… was asking for some water…”

He fought his rapidly growing embarrassment as he handed her the water bottle. “Sorry, I’m just tired.”

She smiled a little. The kind of smile you give scared civilians when you tell them it’s all going to be okay. It felt weird to have it turned on him. This whole conversation was just… weird.

“It’s fine, I am, too.”

She took a few sips of his water and then handed it back to him. He put the cap back on it and sunk into the couch.

They watched the last of Chloe’s helpers leave and he was somewhat glad to see that she seemed just as ticked off by them as he was.

He hesitated. “Want to help each other unpack?”

She blinked for a third time. Maybe that was why she covered her eyes when she fought, she didn’t want people to know when she was confused or shocked.

And then she gave him a smile, a real one this time. For a half second she looked like just a regular teen enjoying time with a friend --.

“I finished yesterday, actually, but I can help you if you want.”

Nope. Still Ladybug. Of course she was already done.

Still…

“Help would be nice, I guess.”

~~~

Taglist

@nathleigh @mialuvscats @sassakitty @th1s-1s-my-aesthet1c

#a miraculous tiktok account #nino lahiffe #carapace #ladybug #marinette dupain cheng #chloe bourgeois #queen bee #chat noir #adrien agreste #rena rouge #alya cesaire #miraculous team #miraculous fic #ml fic #chloenette #chlonette #adrino

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navyhyuck · 4 years

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week one | previous | masterlist | next

𝐒𝐈𝐆𝐍𝐄𝐃, 𝐉𝐀𝐘.

↳ a love letter a week, and it has you wondering who’s your secret admirer. you have nine weeks, eight candidates, and one story to live. will you find out who your ‘jay’ is?

a/n :: hi hi hi fellas here’s the first part (technically, since the other one was an intro) <3 uhh a little fun fact! this project mentioned in this chapter was one that i actually had to complete last year (before corona lol) and i thankfully got a good grade on it even tho my teacher swore on all gods that it was very difficult,, he also let me put up nct posters in the classroom <3 enjoy :) [also, i may have missed some tags!!! if you aren’t here and you sent in an ask before, please do so again since it’s been some time since i last updated this!! ty mwah]

wc :: 2.2k

taglist: @childofthecycle @takoyakkun @the8luvr @staywrites @chocolattees @cherry-jaemin @cloudzume @babytoadz @cherrystay @sandaigdigan-reads @hoes4hoseok

couldn’t tag: @x-dawna-x

let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist!

There have been far too many unfortunate events unfolding in your day so far, starting off with the stupid guy that had parked just a little into your spot (that still had you thinking more than you had to do for any science test, and you were highly tempted to just smash the car instead) and then moving onto your English class where you were given a pop quiz on the third act of Romeo and Juliet, and then finally, the situation you’re in now.

It’s the last period of your day, which is supposed to be the most laid back in certain cases, but you’re slumped in your desk in the AP Chemistry lab room for a new assignment of partners. You’ve already attempted to convince Mrs. Choi to let you continue being partners with Chaeryeong, who was looking equally as gloomy from the opposite side of the room, but she had passively dismissed your request with something that went along the lines of ‘expanding our knowledge as a class.’ Not only did that sound like bullshit to you, it actually was, but you didn’t do anything more than stay put as she called out the assignments of partners.

“...Chaeryeong and Jisoo. Beomgyu and Yuna. Y/N and Jisung.”

You’re frozen at the sound of your partner’s name, slightly expecting your teacher to pair you up with one of the overachievers that usually sat in the back and talked shit about the ‘untalented’ kids, but you’re also pleasantly surprised. Turning your head, you meet the said boy’s eyes from a distance, shining into yours before a smile spreads across his face almost immediately. You return one back (probably forcibly from the shock you’re experiencing of the Han Jisung actually recognizing you and smiling at you) before whipping your head back to the front, gulping deeply.

Fuck.

“Now that we’ve split into pairs, there is a list of chemical compounds on this table. Come up with your partner and choose one wisely. After everyone’s chosen, I will tell you what your assignment is.” Mrs. Choi gestures vaguely with her hands, turning away as the rest of the students move around to find their partner. You stay planted in your seat, eyes barely staying open as you quietly continue to try and calm the beating of your heart. You’re sure that it’s not healthy, the erraticness overflowing to every single vein and artery in your body until you’re filled with the filling remembrance that your teacher just paired you up with the single most attractive boy in the school. Well—you purse your lips, thinking about that Hyunjin guy from yesterday—Jisung still causes more heart palpitations than some new guy could ever.

When you deem yourself safe enough to finally use your legs without thinking about falling, you stand up, meeting your partner halfway in the middle of the classroom. He doesn’t say anything at first, possibly because you’ve found a newfound interest in your dirty Converse, but he chuckles as a few seconds pass by, making you look up. “Hey there, thanks for looking at me. Wanna go choose a compound?”

You blanch at his choice of words, but you nod slowly. “Uh-huh, yeah. Sure.”

You learn later, alongside Jisung, that your assignment was to successfully convert your chemical compound into another, with exact proportions being massed properly. Just as you listen to Mrs. Choi going on and on about proper dilution, you slowly start blanking out into the space of ‘why did my dumbass decide to take this class’ and ‘this isn’t worth the pain that I’m receiving.’ Thankfully, Jisung has an equally shocked look at his face as the explanation continues, and you’re sure that there isn’t a way the two of you would be able to complete the assignment properly. There was no way; it was practically impossible.

“I just want to remind you guys that this is definitely possible! Students have succeeded well in the past years! You and your partner should be working together as efficiently as possible, which is why I mixed it up a little this time. There should not be any distractions, understood?” Mrs. Choi finishes, nodding as if someone had actually answered her rhetorical question. “Also, I’ll be grading you on how well you manage your time, so if there’s unnecessary chit-chat, that’ll be points deducted from your grade. No exceptions. Got it?”

You think maybe she’s referring to the time you and Chaeryoung accidentally fucked up the entire experimental process by forgetting to set a timer (it was because the two of you were preoccupied by a TikTok dance, though you would never admit it to anyone), or maybe the time that Jaehyun guy almost set half the chemistry lab on fire by not disposing of chemicals properly. You’d think the school would be a little more careful considering they’re letting teenage students handle dangerous chemicals, but thinking of the time that your teacher told you it was fine to handle acid without wearing gloves, it clearly was never a practice.

You and Jisung start to prepare, with you carefully reading through the reaction process several times and measuring out the chemicals as precisely as possible while Jisung handles the rest of the equipment, bringing over pipettes and scales. As the two of you continued working for the rest of the class period, only till the very end did you notice that you were, possibly for once, actually using all of your class time properly.

“Are you going to homecoming?” Jisung asks as you set down the beaker on the scale, startling you with a non-chemistry related question. If you were being honest, you hadn’t thought about it; homecoming wasn’t too big of a thing at your school to begin with, plus, there wasn’t even the cliche dance that everyone thought they’d get as kids. It was one of the first home games played by the football team (which was pretty shitty, for the record) and they crowned a homecoming king and queen every year. Honestly, it was usually a bore.

“I don’t know,” you say honestly, trying to keep your voice as steady as possible. Maybe constantly reminding yourself every two seconds that Han Jisung was speaking to you would help, but you couldn’t get over it. At least not today. “I haven’t really thought about it.” He hums thoughtfully, taking the beaker from you as you pass it along.

“Have you ever gone to a swim meet before?” His question sounds rather interrogative in nature, and he seems to notice, stumbling over his words for the first time. “Um—I mean, have you gone to any of our swim meets before? You see, I’m on the team and I feel like I’ve seen you before at one of them, and it’s fine if you have gone! I’m just curious.” He holds up his hands in defense as if he’d said something wrong, the chemical splashing around in the beaker as you widen your eyes.

“Fuck, be careful,” you retrieve the object from his hand, placing it down safely on the table to ensure you weren’t going to take after the setting-the-classroom-on-fire guy. Jisung watches as you do so, perhaps overanalyzing the fact that your gloved fingers brushed past his in that moment, now an apologetic look forming over his face. “Sorry, you were about to spill it on yourself.”

“No, it’s fine!” He replies, the volume of his voice attracting attention from the nearby classmates, including Chaeryoung, who gives you a small smirk. You return a pointed glare in her direction, trying to calm down as you realize you’re overheating from the situation at hand right now. “Shit, sorry, that was kind of loud.”

“It’s okay, Jisung,” his name tastes unfamiliar on your tongue, only having been used around Ryujin earlier. Ryujin, you remember, my best friend that’s practically in love with the boy standing in front of me. “I’ve been to your swim meets before, I mean—no offense but—who hasn’t? You guys are undoubtedly the best team in school, who wouldn’t want to watch?”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” he chuckles wryly, sounding a bit forced. You decide to ignore it and continue working on the project. Thankfully, your teacher gave the class a few days to work on it, or else it would be essentially impossible to finish. “Wait, aren’t you usually there with your friend? The one with the blue hair?”

You raise your eyebrows, somehow already feeling just a little more comfortable around him. He isn’t as stuck up as you expected, and he definitely doesn’t act like a cocky little shit either. Most importantly, he seems to be just as nervous as you. A small smile forms on your lips. “You mean Ryujin?”

“Ah, yeah! Her.”

“Ryujin and I usually go to watch swim meets together, or at least, she drags me around everywhere and that’s one of the places I’m forced to go.” You chuckle at the memory of her towing you towards the pool, swearing that she’ll buy you a hundred dollars worth of milkshakes for the next month if you keep her company. She never kept the promise, but you still remember the feeling of watching people competitively swim. More importantly, the seven most popular boys in the school at the time. “But I go voluntarily now. I think everyone has to have some sort of school spirit, right?”

You look up at him, your eyes sparkling under the fluorescent lights and you don’t notice, but Jisung gulps, avoiding your gaze after a split second. “Yeah, yeah, absolutely. Totally, definitely.”

The conversation awkwardly ends there, a little weird but better than having to continue talking about how many times you’ve seen him backstroke his way to a medal. You’re not sure if Jisung even knows how popular going to a swim meet is, because when you ask him, he answers with: “I thought all sports got the same audience.” They don’t, that’s confirmed, unless the dance team was performing as well.

The bell rings a few moments later, finally signalling the end of the day with a deep sigh from you. You clean up as quickly as you can, bidding your new partner (and maybe friend) a goodbye to the rest of the day. As you yank out your phone from your bag, going out into the hallway towards your locker, you spot Chaeryoung from the corner of your eye, brushing past you dramatically with a whisper of:

“You’re whipped already.”

dear y/n love,

this is my second letter to you. hopefully, unless you didn’t receive the first one for some reason. but if this is the second one, hi! i hope you had a great day today and if you didn’t, i hope you feel better. i think you probably find this weird, the love letter sort of thing, it’s super cliche and everything so i’d get it if you decided to take this and, like, throw it out or something. but please don’t! please don’t throw it out, i’d be very upset. not that you’d know anyway, but :)

you’re also probably wondering, ‘why is this guy sending me stuff without telling me who he is?’ well, i’m glad to say that i have a purpose. it is, well, just to make you happy. life is hard, ya know, and i don’t think a lot of us would be able to get through everything without someone by their side. not that you don’t have anyone by your side! i’m sure you do, you have friends and family that support you as well, but since i unfortunately do not fall into either of those categories, i have to resort to written letters.

anyway, i’m ending this letter quickly considering my class is ending in hmm, like four minutes? i want to make enough time to get to your locker and give it to you, hopefully without you ever noticing, but if you did end up finding out who i am…just forget about that part. yeah, like my face and all? erase that memory from your pretty head. i’m so sorry, i just realized how much i just didn’t get to a point with this letter at all.

in a few days is the homecoming game, and i may or may not have a little surprise waiting for you there. if you’d like to come, that’s awesome, if not, that’s perfect as well. i know the last thing you’d do is trust someone you don’t know, and it might be a little hypocritical of me to say this, but trust me. in the least creepy way, i will say that yes, you do know me, maybe not as well as i know you. shitttt that sounds so creepy, i deeply apologize. i’m just your secret admirer, that’s it, not a stalker omg. now it sounds like i’m a stalker. okay, anyway.

please come to homecoming, i won’t reveal myself to you just yet (maybe not ever, but it depends) but i have something waiting for you. it’s NOT a death wish, cross my heart, for real.

signed, jay

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come-on-shitty-boys · 4 years

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Haikyuu But They Don’t Play Volleyball (Pretty Setter Squad)

Notes: I am once again telling you that I know nothing about sports.

*Read that Captain version here! (oikawa was included in the captain thread)*

Sugawara Koushi: Diving

He’s beauty. He’s grace. How could he not be a diver?

I’m sorry but just imagine him coming up from a dive, his hair clinging to his forehead, just smiling that pretty smile of his as he swims back to the edge of the pool?

Catch me simping.

TEAMMOMTEAMMOMTEAMMOM!

Sugawara is brings a whole ass cooler of snacks and drinks to every meet for all of his teammates.

Probably leads in stretches? His positive energy gets everyone super hyped for the competition. I promise you’ve never heard anyone count to ten with more enthusiasm.

He’s there on the sidelines to watch every single dive during the meet, shouting words of encouragement as they approach the platform, and then cheering loudly after the completed dive.

But, also? C H A O T I C at practices. Like he knows when it’s time to actually practice, but if something has the team down? He’ll do some stupid move, shouting some TikTok reference on his way down.

Sugawara is really good at twisting dives? Like?? Really good at them.

If you come to his meets to watch him? Precious bean smiles so much, likely giving you a thumbs up and a toothy grin before he steps up to the edge of the springboard.

You’ll try to give him a hug once he’s out of the water, but he’ll likely just laugh and object, saying that he’ll get your clothes all wet.

But, he will sit down in his chair and let you dry his hair with his towel. Watch him melt into your touch once you're done and just running your fingers through his silver strands, getting any tangles out.

He always offers you his jacket, because he’s an absolute gentleman. But, he inevitably ends up getting cold, and will cuddle you in his lap to steal your body heat, putting his towel down over his legs so you don’t get your pants all wet.

Kageyama Tobio: Basketball

He plays point guard, because much like the setter in volleyball, the point guard controls the team’s offense. It’s the most specialized position, again, just like the setter.

Three point K I N G!

Drains them left and right with expert precision.

He plays so rough oml and it’s not even on purpose! Someone could guard him too much and he’s pissed even though that’s literally the point of basketball??? Catch him throwing so many elbows.

Kageyama practices dribbling non-stop. If he’s not in during practice, he’s on the side lines doing ball-handling drills.

He could be the best ball-handler on the team and he’s still working to improve himself and learn from some of the point guards from the opposing teams.

He will have no idea that you’re even at his games, because he’s so in the zone, but if you come up to him afterwards as he walks out of the locker room?

Insert soft Tobio smile here ;-;

He’ll ask you if you enjoyed the game, probably talking about how one of the other players had a really clean jump shot, asking you to rebound for him so he can try that.

Please tell him no. He’s on an adrenaline high and needs to go get some rest.

Kageyama will probably con you into it, no matter how much you object. He’d be shooting baskets, asking for your input every now and then as if you have any idea what you’re meant to be looking for.

You definitely walked up to him after a game in a t-shirt that had his name on it and this boy just got so flustered, because he will never be over the fact that you, of all people, wanted to date him.

But, he would tell you that you looked nice, just like he always does. Kageyama would never outright say it, but the fact that you get all dressed up for his games makes his heart do backflips 🥺

Kozume Kenma: Track

Right? Crazy, I know, but hear me out. He does high jump or maybe pole vault. Something that doesn’t require too much physical exertion.

Sitting outside in the sun at track meets for hours on end is by no means his favorite thing to do, but he’s one of the first events, so if the meet is at Nekoma, he can just dip for a little while and go play his games at a cafe that has air conditioning or something. Don’t tell his coach though because they’re technically not meant to leave??

During practices, you will likely find him lying on the mats, playing a game on his phone, not even caring if his coach comes over. The others are doing the same thing, so why does it matter?

He can get really meticulous though, especially right before postseason. He’d get in this trance where he’s constantly working on his approaches, making sure they feel just right before he even thinks about jumping.

Kenma hates when you come watch him. It throws him off, so if you do plan on coming to a meet, please don’t say anything ;-;

Honestly, he probably wouldn’t even tell you when he has meets, just so he doesn’t run the risk of you watching him.

Assuming you do find out his schedule, it’s probably best if you come after his events? It would put him more at ease knowing that there wasn’t even the slightest possibility that you had watched him.

He’ll sit on the bleachers with you though, munching on some snacks that you brought, making quiet conversation while he plays his games.

Kenma will always tell you that he doesn’t care if you come or not, but deep down, he enjoys the time he gets to spend with you while he’s waiting for results he absolutely will make sure that you leave if he makes it to the final round though

Akaashi Keiji: Golf

GOLF BRAT this is a joke don’t kill me pls

I’m talking like he grew up playing golf with his dad, but because he’s played so long, he’s super good.

He shoots in the high-30s on nine holes and probably gets really annoyed with himself if he gets in the mid-40s

You’ll see him on the driving range right after the match, practicing until he’s content if he ever does worse than he expected.

He only uses Callaway golf balls and probably has a really unique ball mark.

His golf clubs? Custom fit. He’s not a snob, I swear. He just takes it really seriously, because Akaashi knows that he’s good and could get some really incredible scholarships. He wants to be able to perform to the best of his ability and if that means spending a lot on a nice set of golf clubs that will last him for a long time, then he’ll do it.

Akaashi carries his clubs. He doesn’t understand the need for those push carts? Sure the clubs are kind of heavy, but it’s not that bad.

Definitely refused to wear a glove for a long time, but eventually the blisters and calluses got so bad that he had to cave.

Putting KING. Can and will sink a 15’ putt without batting an eyelash. He doesn’t have a lot of power in his drives, but his short game is impeccable.

He’s always really flattered when you show up to his matches. They’re boring to watch, and he knows that, especially if you don’t play golf or have any interest in the sport.

But, the fact that you’re willing to walk with him around the course, asking him questions about the rules of the game, or even just helping him find his ball? It brings that gentle Akaashi smile to his face.

Akaashi in a polo akaashi in a polo akaashi in a motherfucking polo

Some weekends he’ll take you out to the course with him, let you borrow a set of his old clubs if you don’t have a set of your own, and you two will play a round of golf together

You give up after hitting the ball in the lake four times in row and just settle for driving the golf cart and providing him with emotional support.

Atsumu Miya: Tennis

Just imagine that wide ass smile of his when he scores a point

Wait i’m already soft i-

Anyway. The intention was to get Osamu to play too and they would be this really incredible duo for doubles

But Osamu physically could not put up with Atsumu’s shit. Like, in volleyball there are other people on the court to interact with, but in doubles tennis? It’s just atsumu

Osamu literally lasted one practice.

But, we’re not here to talk about him.

Atsumu doesn’t have a lot of power, so he has to come up with other ways to score. He mainly relies on well-aimed receives or drop shots

He hates the uniforms and he looks terrible in them. I’m so sorry Atsumu stans, but it��s just a fact. Those really light, almost white, khakis and the maroon polo? Boy looks so dumb and he knows it. Add the dumbass headband his coach makes him wear to keep his hair from his eyes? Fashion crises.

It’s for this reason that he really doesn’t want you at his matches. Because he knows that you’re going to take stupid pictures of him and use them as blackmail. You come anyway and yes. You take a million pictures of your boyfriend looking like a hot mess in his uniform.

If he catches you taking pictures in between sets? He’s going to steal your phone the minute he’s done so he can delete them all

“153 pictures?! What the hell, Princess. . .”

“Sorry, ‘mu. You just look so dumb in your uniform.”

He likes to drag you out to the courts on weekends to play doubles with friends or he’ll ask you to play singles with him. He always says that he’ll go easy on you, but three volleys in and he’s slipped into the zone and he’s playing for real.

Atsumu has absolutely smacked your ass with his racket and feigned innocence when you whirl around to stare at him in shock. He probably starts lecturing the nearest person on how they should treat someone like that, especially his princess.

Smack his arm and shut him up, please.

I promise he looks a lot better when the two of you go play than when he actually has a match. Some nice athletic shorts and a black t-shirt or hoodie, maybe a baseball cap to keep his hair out of his face? Yeah. He looks hella cute.

#haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #threads #pretty setter squad #sugawara #kageyama #kenma #akaashi #atsumu #sugawara x reader #kageyama x reader #kenma x reader #akaashi x reader #atsumu x reader #headcannons #haikyuu imagines #imagines

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nurseofren · 4 years

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Keeping Your Promise - Chapter 24

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Read chapter twenty-three

Title: Prove it

Words: 6800

Warnings: Talks of pregnancy, mentions of vomit

Summary: A friend. A foe?

ST Rambles: I look pretty good for a dead bitch.

Okay. In all seriousness. In the five weeks that I have not updated, it has been chaos. School is absolutely kicking my ass this semester and I am not afraid to say it. Maternal-Newborn is a hell I would not wish on my worst enemy. With this said, I know any further updates will be sporadic, BUT - and I say this to snuff out any doubt on the matter - I will never, EVER, abandon this story. However it ends, rest assured that it will, in fact, do just that.

I thank you all for your patience and encouragement. This story is something I care deeply about and it just floors me that others do as well. I love interacting with you all, either on here or tumblr or TikTok (if you've made one and I haven't seen it, please tag me! My fyp does not work in my favor lol).

Be kind. Don't forget to be a person. All you can do is try your best.

[MASTERLIST] | BANNER/@elmidol

Good afternoon,

I can only hope this correspondence finds you safe and well.

The Board of Physicians sympathizes during this time of displacement and potential grieving. There are countless variables to be considered during uncertain times like these, but those of your safety and well-being are of the utmost importance. In an effort to convey the depth of our understanding, a unanimous vote has approved the decision to extend the dates of the trial by seven days. Upon receiving this official communication, you should plan to arrive on Canto Bight a minimum of two days prior to the morning of the initial hearing. An updated outline has been attached at the end of this e-mail for reference and sent to all pertinent parties.

Per the initial correspondence, Commander Ren is to receive a new provider prior to the trial’s start date. This objective has been met with the solemn barrier of the diminished population of approved nurses and physicians which resulted from the recent tragedy of Starkiller Base. There have been additional unforeseen circumstances also working to lengthen and altogether halt this approval process. Rest assured that we are doing everything in our power to ensure the trial proceedings occur in an organized and professional manner.

The emergent provider shortage, along with the unknown – and likely diminished – amount of surveillance retained from Starkiller Base prior to its destruction, has laid the foundation for the discussion of potential and probable employment during your time on Canto Bight. The discussions surrounding this issue are in their infancies. Should it be that you are to assume a care position during your trial, you will receive a further updated and in-depth itinerary. This would include the dates, times, and location you would be expected to work; this information would be accompanied by any specific limitations regarding your scope of practice while on trial.

Though you are encouraged to reach out to discuss any questions or concerns you may have pertaining to these new developments, the current agenda is to be followed with strict compliance. Should there be any changes, as stated previously, I will communicate these to you in a timely and conscious manner.

Respectfully,

Karmen Zag, Esq.,

Head of Communications,

The Board of Physicians

“Yeah, well, you can go fuck yourself Karmen Zag. Stupid ass name anyway.”

Not that anyone could hear you, nor that anyone would care, you could not help the petty jab. Karmen Zag, the faceless mouthpiece of the institution actively seeking your death, had little to do with anything. Karmen Zag was not the one who had carved initials into your body; that person was elusive to you now. Karmen Zag was not the one who kept you from sleep; that person was dead, killed by the trembling hands of the very survivor they’d created. Karmen Zag was not the one you were currently hiding from; that person, achingly kind and too ignorant to know different, still came to pick you up from shift every night.

Cramped in the corner of a supply room, you sat with your knees tucked to your chest and your datapad resting on your thighs, eyeing the vent at the bottom of the door to spy Mason’s tapping foot. In the seven days since waking up in the medbay, six days since returning to work to help with the increased patient population – or, at least that’s what you were telling yourself – you had found yourself with a desperate need to distance yourself from Mason. He was unaware of all that was haunting you, nescient to the fact he was at the epicenter of the majority of it. To see him was to remember the choice you’d made, to hate yourself for regretting it, to be morally ripped in half by the unwavering war in the back of your mind.

The first three days he would always sneak up on you, flurries of white lies leaving while you fumbled away from him and into the nearest room. I’m on call tonight was your favorite. No, you weren’t, though you had been staying in the on-call rooms to hide the fact that you no longer held a residence on this ship. No matter if you had not received official word on your employment status, you felt an unease when thinking of returning to Kylo Ren’s quarters. It felt too broken, like you’d be a stranger somewhere you’d once considered a home.

Eventually, Mason being an inherent creature of habit, you’d picked up on his timing. On the fourth day you’d decided to stake him out, finding he would spend exactly ten minutes waiting, send a message to your commlink, spend another five toying with his own as he waited for a response, eventually asking whoever was nearest to tell you to call him. You never did. It was despicable, watching his hope falter as the days passed and you were never there to leave with him; wretched, but that did not make it any less necessary.

So long as you were away from Mason, you couldn’t hurt him. If you could create a rift between the two of you so great as to discourage any further interaction, you could save him from all the suffering that came along with being associated with you. On the other hand, you couldn’t deny the comfort you felt in deferring any conversation with him. Avoidance may not be a healthy coping mechanism, but all the ones you’d learned of in school were useless to your set of circumstances; there was no talking this through, no way to speak of Snoke or Kylo or Robbie without getting someone else hurt. You were trapped in your own, sole company; whoever you had become recently, you were barely tolerant of them, let alone fond. It was growing increasingly difficult to recognize your own reflection. At some point you figured you might stop looking altogether.

Zag’s update had been present in your inbox ever since returning to work; with each read through – which, now, you’d have read a hundred times – you felt time pass by. Each night you spent time tucked away here, the cold tile permeating the scrub pants you now wore; the uniform you’d had on when you arrived back on the Finalizer had been too tattered to reuse. Not that you wanted to wear it; in those tattered, bloodied threads lay the obvious truth of how entirely you had failed at the only assignment you had ever been trusted with.

Trusted. The thought made you shiver. Yes. Trusted. Past tense. In every sense it could be. Thus, folded into yourself, away from prying eyes or well-meaning friends, you scrolled aimlessly up and down the message. Though its existence annoyed you, knowing full well that there was no empathy or genuine concern behind the decision to delay the trial, it also brought you ease to know this portion of your life was almost over. Again you were embracing the possibility of your death, only this time rooted in hatred for yourself, not Kylo Ren.

“Alright, well, can you tell her-,”

“Tell her to call you. Got it. Do every night.” One of your coworkers had grown exasperated with Mason – or was it with you? Either way, peeking through the vent slats, you spied Mason’s legs drag out of view. It made your heart fall, feeling more disgusted with yourself each day; it was this confusing combination of feeling a pull to run after him, to apologize to him with every breath you had left, only for that initial urgency to be swallowed by the knowledge that the action would be futile.

With tired eyes, not having gotten more than two hours of unbroken sleep since the sixteen you’d woken from, you looked to your left wrist. It was a routine gesture, pointless in the fact you had not worn the watch since finding it on your bedside table. Much like your uniform, only agonizingly amplified, the sight of the gadget inspired a hollowness in your chest. It remained in a pillowcase, hidden atop the bed you’d claimed. Each night you toyed with it, thumbed at the lifeless screen and wondered if it would ever offer another flicker; each night you caught the hazy reflection of two unfamiliar eyes, finding only the remnants of shattered promises staring back at you.

A sigh crept into your lungs when you stood, arms stretching and hands smoothing back your hair before going to activate the door. It hissed open without your indication; before you could question how, two hands pushed you out of the way and sent you flying face first into the storage shelves. Nose first, actually; the collision rang through your ears, pain throbbing in prominence as you stumbled for stability, arms widespread and eyes pinched shut.

“Oh! You have to be kidding!” Copper crept down your upper lip, cascading over your sharp tongue, foggy eyes opening to blood-stained fingers. “Watch where you’re going, jeez!”

Away from you sounded the door as it shut, but that wasn’t the sound that alarmed you. Across the room, near the sink – at least you hoped it was near the sink – came the horrendous retching that could only indicate vomit. The longer you listened, though, all the while blindly searching for a package of gauze, you found it wasn’t vomit, but an attempt towards it; echoes of dry heaves wracked the room, vomit absent even as the stranger continued in their effort toward expulsion.

A spill of winces left you, a grimace following suit when you tipped your head back, blood draining down your throat. You found a box of gauze squares and tore it open, peeling away a layer and rolling it into a cone before pushing it into one nostril. Vessels pounded against the material, injury soaking into it as you caught your breath.

“I’m so sorry,” a familiar voice said, groggy and breathless. “The refresher was occupied, and the occupancy indicator wasn’t on.” She took another breath, gasping back spit. “I figured the sink in here would do.”

Another person you’d been avoiding. Talia. Sick. As she would be, of course. It was something you’d fought thoughts on; it was too confusing, too unnerving to put the pieces you’d been offered together. Hux had left her room, had been so distraught. Talia had seized and ended up in the medbay. Armitage. Stars, how that word haunted you in the way it left her paling lips. She’d been so disoriented, so scared. Glassy eyes and green pallor. And the person she’d asked for was Armitage.

With these thoughts, dizzying as they had become, came the image of the very thing that tied them all together: that square-cut, printed, glossy ultrasound picture. Between nightmares of Robbie and desperately trying to find any amount of sleep, you saw it clear in your head, remembered how you’d lost your ability to stand when you first considered the reality of it. It all made sense clinically; the symptoms, the tangible evidence showing a yolk sac, the patient identifiers framing the monochrome image.

But, when you remembered running into Hux, remembered the ghost in his eyes and felt the rather unsettling demeanor – one not marked with errant hatred – he’d met you with, it all started to blur. Jumble. Your mind rejecting the thought that Talia and Hux-

Talia mewled, your eyes opening to find white knuckles outfitting a vise grip over the sink’s metal edge. The fluorescent lights lining the ceiling made it all too easy to see how sick she really was. Tears glinted down her cheeks, her hair dull in its tousled bun, a string of spit straying from her bottom lip; there was a suggestion of green just below the surface of her skin, exhaustion evident in the lavender drapes below her eyes.

A shaky breath left her before she rested against the sink, elbows bent and fingers rolling over her temples. For a moment there was a deafening silence, one that strangled you and emphasized the throbbing in your nose when you stopped breathing. It dissipated when Talia groaned, her head drooping and stance shifting.

“At least shift is done, right?” She sounded like she was talking to anyone. She didn’t know it was you. She didn’t know you knew.

Swallowing, dropping your hand from your face, you tried to think of anything to say. But nothing would come. And, considering how little time you had left to know her – execution or not – you saw no point in frivolous small talk.

“How far along are you?” It was a low rasp; frail in its existence yet bludgeoning the quiet that had preceded it.

She didn’t look up, but you knew she recognized your voice; her every muscle stalled, hair even stilling as your words sank into her. It was the first thing you’d said to her since she’d seized. In her silent shock it dawned on you that it had not been long since you’d been in a situation similar to this; the two of you, a pitting silence, a mess – obvious and blaring – surrounding you.

Only this mess was not something that could be cleaned. This mess existed outside all you had once thought to consider. Though this room was less gruesome in appearance, it held that same suffocated dread, carried with it the reminder that everything could change without a moment’s notice. Watching the color return to her cheeks, absentmindedly brushing your fingertips across the raised marks atop your thigh, it hit you how true that fact was.

A small sound – a swallow – filled the room, a sigh to accompany it. “Six weeks. I think, at least. Maybe more.” She stood then, crossing her arms and leaning against the sink. A wall stood between you and her, invisible yet so entirely present. “No one knows.” Her jaw fluttered at its hinge. The wall was for her; a façade, a crutch. She was scared.

The door lit cool shivers down your back, hands digging into your pockets, a weak attempt at a smile pulling at your face. “Congratulations,” you offered first, forgetting the circumstances before seeing her eyes fall to the floor. “Or not, I guess.”

She kept her eyes down. “I’m not showing, and I’ve been good about sneaking away to throw up, so…”

“Last week,” you said, her stare coming back to you, “after Starkiller. I fainted after arriving back here, and after I woke up,” I washed the Commander of the First Order’s hair and cried to his comatose body about how my life is falling apart, “I just had to know you were okay, so I visited you.”

“I don’t remember seeing you. I actually… How did you even know I had been admitted to the medbay?”

“You were asleep. I didn’t want to wake you.” You chewed your cheek, recounting any of those 48 hours made your pulse jump. “You weren’t well off when I found you, before they took you to the medbay, so I wouldn’t expect you to remember me being there.”

Her brow dipped for half a second, a crack creeping into that wall. “I didn’t know you found me. It’s difficult for me to even recall most of that day.” Her shoulders dropped, stature less rigid now. “Thank you, though.”

You nodded, not entirely sure why she felt it necessary to thank you. “Yeah. So, you were sleeping and I saw the tests ordered on your board. And then I found your ultrasound on the floor.”

Her eyes were so distant, pupils housing a familiar ghost. “It must have fallen when I was sleeping.” Her lips parted with the whisper, egregious loneliness overwhelming the thought.

It felt like the floor would fall out at any second, the interaction so fragile. Watching her with intent, measuring her reactions, you charged ahead into territory you’d been afraid to enter for so long.

“Talia,” you started, buying more time to think on your phrasing. Her focus startled back from wherever her mind had taken her. “I mean, maybe this is ridiculous, and maybe I’m so far off base in even suggesting it…”

Her arms dropped when a hand reached to tuck a collection of stray hair behind her ear, nose sniffing, teeth pulling at her bottom lip. She took her eyes from yours, breath picking up. That wall she stood behind was wearing.

You couldn’t stand beating around the bush any longer, sick of theorizing about it all. It fled out, no breath to separate any of it. “I’ll just say it: Hux was leaving your room when I came around. And he was being weird. So weird. I mean, he was being… would I say nice? Maybe just, less awful? He complimented me. And it was so weird, but I thought I would give him the benefit of the doubt because, you know, he’d just lost a lot of men. But then it was you in the room and I.. he was so distraught? That is barely the right word, but I mean? He just wasn’t General Hux. And then I found the ultrasound and remembered how you’d asked for ‘Armitage’ earlier when I’d found you, and-,”

A weep signaled the destruction of the wall she’d thrown up, hands clawing into her eyes and lungs heaving full of ragged, desperate air. “Oh, please tell me you didn’t tell him! He can’t- I don’t!” Sobs rolled off of her between each exclamation. “I haven’t told him. I don’t know how. I- he’s so evil! I can’t believe I ever slept with him!”

Seeing her come apart, feeling the guilt she did in every word she cried, you could only think to take her into your arms. In your hold you felt her shaking and the pain roll off of her in thick, grating waves. It was familiar, like she, too, had been existing alone; you had not noticed, so buried in your own avoidance that you had not thought to consider hers.

“I’m so sorry! I’m so- I’m so sorry! It makes me so mad that- ugh!”

“Hey, stop. Slow down,” you soothed, hugging her tighter. “You have nothing to apologize to me for. You’ve done nothing wrong, okay?”

“No, I have! I slept with my Master! And got pregnant! And he’s such a fucking jerk! He’s the whole reason you’re losing your career, you know? And I had sex with him! And I feel- felt real things for him!” A breath stuttered into her lungs. “I never meant for it to go any further than that first night, and then… fuck.”

It burned down to your marrow that you had the power to comfort her, knew everything she was feeling even if it wasn’t hatred that left you crying at night. She would be embraced in knowing you had also slept with your Master; it would minimize the guilt she now felt. To tell her you had fallen for Kylo Ren could help her know that she wasn’t alone.

Instead, feeling her tears accumulate on your sleeve, struggling to keep in your own, you kept quiet. She would not learn how you had burned so bright for your commander. It was selfish, but it was necessary. Self-preservation. She would be testifying against you, taking the stand right after Hux. Her not knowing would do no harm; it would keep her from having to consider or commit perjury. Talia now joined Mason, another soul to protect, another person you would lie to.

Several minutes passed before she stopped trembling, another few before the tears stopped staining your uniform. Humanity existed in these moments, and though you would hide how you knew the advice you would offer her, you knew she needed to hear it. A part of you did, too.

Moving your arms from her back and grasping both her shoulders, you locked eyes with her and forced her to see that you somehow understood her pain. “There is nothing to feel guilty about. Not that you slept with him, or that you got pregnant. Not that you felt things for him or that you still do.” Her eyes shut at that, a fresh streamlet dragging into her mouth. “You can still love him even if he has done awful things.”

“Gosh, how can you say that? He’s ruined your life,” she shuddered, grimacing before looking back up to you.

“I made the choice to take that blood. I had a choice,” your throat tightened, not knowing if you were reciting the words from their origin or from your dream, “I made the one I thought was the best at the time. Hux may be an ass in the way he has gone about the issue, but it’s not like he wouldn’t have reported me.”

She sobbed your name, confusion and hurt wrought in her features. “That blood saved that patient. You saved that patient. We both know that. You saved him and you’re suffering for it and I’m the one who wrote the incident report. He made me write it. Such a fucking bastard.”

Just like that, whatever weird internal truce you’d made with Hux disappeared. “Yeah, that is a dick thing to do, I will say that.”

She wiped at her cheeks, shaking her head. “I should have lied on that report.”

“And gotten both of us in trouble? That isn’t a solution.”

“If I had, you would be less alone in this. And I wouldn’t have to testify against you.” Talia’s eyes shot to the ceiling and back, frustration hot on her breath. “It’s just so-,”

“Unfair. I know. I have… I’ve beaten myself up about it too much not to know that.” This conversation was too similar to those you’ve held inwardly. It was becoming repetitive to keep sulking over something you could not change. But Talia, if she wanted, could change her situation. “We went through the same program, got the same schooling, I know you know your options here.”

She chewed her cheek, shaking her head. A long drag of breath found its way into her chest, releasing when your hands fell to your sides. “This is where you find out how stupid I am.”

It pulled at your heart to hear how hard she was being on herself. “You aren’t stupid. And if you are? Could’ve fooled me with your class rank and just general existence.”

A laugh, weak but not acrid. “Academics were easy. Career is easy. This life stuff? Messy. Complicated. I feel like no matter what I do, it will blow up in my face.” That earlier distance glazed over her stare, a glimmer of yearning present in the way her eyebrows pinched. “And what I want…think I want? I’m not sure it’s even possible.”

“What do you want?”

Talia shut her eyes, capitulation and indignance set in her features, jaw flexed. “I haven’t spoken to him since that night,” she whispered. “He watched me fill out that report. I was sobbing in front of him and he said nothing.” A hand smoothed over her hair and clutched into her bun, lips quivering for a moment. “I didn’t even know until last week. I woke up for a few minutes and they started talking about all that had happened – fainting and seizures and blood tests – and they immediately wheeled me down to have an ultrasound to confirm the hCG results and urinalysis.”

She paused, growing in distance the more she shared. “Was it just your electrolytes that caused the seizure?”

“Yeah. Yes.” She blinked back to the present. “Belkar actually said I was severely dehydrated and that my metabolic panel reflected that.” Talia was dancing between two timeframes; gentleness framed her face when revisiting that of the past. Something so delicate in her stare; adoration cusping on hope. “I always told myself I would never have children. It scared me seeing how sick they could become when we had our unit on pediatrics. I’d never wanted to feel so helpless as the parents I saw during clinical.”

It almost winded you to watch a single tear slip down her cheek, allowing her silence during her pause before she looked up at you, desperation drowning her eyes. She couldn’t find – or, maybe, did not want to believe – the words that overwhelmed her. “What changed?” You knew, but she needed to hear it for herself.

Her lips had become puffy, teeth pulling at the bottom one. She reached into the front pocket of her scrub dress, pulling from it that square print, only now with rolled, worn corners. “I know it’s early and there are so many things that can go wrong and I know I had been drinking before I knew, but…” A swallow bobbed her throat, a fond smile forming when she toyed with the scan. “When they handed this to me? Something just, I don’t know, came into view.”

A surge of immense pain coiled into you. In her reverie you saw yourself, realized how fortunate her situation was; she had something she wanted and even though it was complicated, she had a choice in the matter.

Again, her mind had wandered, distraction framing her tone; her brows pinched together for a second, a question sparking from her memories. “Have you ever wanted something so much, and maybe you didn’t fully understand it, but you just knew? For whatever reason, this was the thing you would do everything in your power to make possible? To have what you want, no matter how daunting or nonsensical it seemed?”

“Yeah,” you choked out, coughing against the new strain on your throat, “I think so.” Talia had that ability, though, and it cracked against your skull how helpless you were to go after what you wanted.

“You said that I could still love him if he’s done awful things,” she quoted, her attention returning to you. “I don’t love him. I don’t think I really know him that well. But…” She shook her head, shoulders shrugging and a puff of breath leaving her nose. “I miss him. It’s so dumb, but the bastard is nice to be around when he isn’t buried in politics. When he’s just a person. When he isn’t the General. When he’s just—” another smile, similar to her earlier one “—Armitage.”

“That has to be the strangest part of this whole thing.” A small laugh bubbled past your lips. It had been so long since the last one. “Armitage.”

“It was very odd at first. But I’m not going to cry out General, oh please General! when I’m cumming, so I got over it.”

Dumbfounded, all you could do was gawk at her candor. It warmed you, though, feeling like that first night you’d hung out with her. A good memory. Her cheeks pinked in your silence and the sight pulled you straight into a ruckus of laughter, tears – born in pain, falling from humor – and lightheartedness. It was short lived, but Talia joined in your fit; abashed giggles leaving her smile-tight face.

“I mean, I feel like it would be weirder if you were sleeping with Commander Ren.” Talia jabbed at your shoulder. “Calling him… Kylo? That just feels downright wrong.”

Instantaneously, your high fizzling into nothing before her, you found yourself right where you were when you’d said your first goodbye. Ky. It wilted your heart, shrouded whatever glimpse of happiness you’d just caught. Talia was too lost in the joke to notice you’d backed away from her, face turned so she couldn’t see the suffering rise to the surface.

“Ha, yeah. Wrong. So, so wrong.” You cleared your throat, brushing past the weak attempt at nonchalance, ready to be off this subject. “So you miss him? You miss… Armitage? Yeah, no. I’m gonna stick to Hux, if that’s alright?”

A final laugh lit from her chest, Talia waving you off. “That’s fine, of course. And yeah. I miss him.” Her brow furrowed. “Do you think it could work? Me and him, and—” she gestured down to her abdomen, placing the scan back in her pocket “—this?”

This was none of your business, and you doubted anything you could say would help her, but there was genuine curiosity in her voice. There was respect in how she wanted your insight into something so intimate and personal.

A sigh preceded your reply, unsure if you were speaking to her or yourself. “I think… Just as you said earlier: no matter if its daunting or nonsensical or even completely impossible – if you want it and you are willing to do everything in your power to get it?”

Hope lit behind her eyes, bloomed in her chest at the suggestion. “It could work.”

Struggle hid behind a mask of hope. Of course she did not know how it pained you to offer words that would never exist for yourself, and it wasn’t fair to ruin her moment of clarity with the bitter bite of ill-placed jealousy. There was no part of you that envied her condition, but instead what it entailed; you coveted her ability to choose the life she wanted.

Talia shook her head free, a giggle warm on her breath. “We should get out of here. Night shift is gonna run us off soon. You have the time?”

“Uh, not readily available. But I’m sure it’s way past shift change.” You started toward the door.

“Hey, I noticed you’ve been staying in the on-call rooms?”

“Oh.” It surprised you that she’d noticed. The knowledge warmed you to your core, both from embarrassment and appreciation. “Yeah, I know you guys have been swamped down here with all the fallout from Starkiller, so I just thought I’d stay near to help out.”

She tsked, your name a mocked plead. “You are Starkiller fallout. You need to rest. Especially now that you can. I got an update from Zag about the trial. You’ve got, what? Three or four days before Canto Bight? Seven until the initial hearing?”

She’d done the same math you’d gone over at length. Hearing it from someone else’s mouth made it that much more real. Frightening. “I know. I do, I know. But what’s wrong with spending them here?”

“You know as much as I do that working constantly drains the absolute soul from you. Even just working these past three days I have been dying for my time off.”

“Yeah, but you have a reason to be tired.”

“I’m pregnant. You survived a planet exploding all the while keeping the Commander of the First Order alive. Are you forgetting that?”

Talia, I wish I could forget all of it. “No, I’m just-,”

“And I know you’ve been blowing off that McCarty guy. He’s a physician, right?”

Maybe you’d been less discreet in your efforts toward avoidance than you thought. It felt like being caught; this web of lies was becoming a strain, less of a benefit, a hinderance rather than protection. “He’s… Mason doesn’t know what he’s asking for, you know?”

“No, I don’t know.” Talia strode to your side, stern eyes on your own. “Look,” a breath softened her demeanor, “whatever happened on Starkiller, whatever you saw or felt – it’s affecting you. I don’t know what it is, and I’m not asking you to tell me – though, you can tell me anything – but at some point it becomes a choice to remain stagnant in grief.”

“Hey!” Talia had always been blunt, but her audacity now clawed at your patience.

“Okay, sorry, yes that was very harsh,” she placed a firm hand on your shoulder, “but you are the one who made me realize that. Here. Now.”

Tears threatened but remained stuck in your throat. “Like you said, I’m alone in this. I have to be.”

“The way I see it, you aren’t-,”

“Talia, I am.”

“You aren’t. Me being here and that physician coming here every night is proof of that.” You met her with silence. She shrugged. “You could have left me to deal with my issues alone, but you saw me and knew I couldn’t.” More silence on your part, her stare flicking between your eyes. “I see you. You can’t deal with this alone. I won’t let you.”

You fought to hide them, but one by one fell the tears you had not permitted before. For so long it seemed you had been shielding others from hurt, ensuring a safety they were not aware they needed. Talia was offering that to you, now. Rejection was the first instinct to kick in, feelings of doubt and thoughts of I do not deserve this blaring in urgency.

But then she spoke, naming what you had been too scared to confront. “Choose to not be alone. It doesn’t make you a bad person,” her hand left you, overwhelming assurance in her smile, “You’ve been strong for long enough, for so many others. Let someone be strong for you for once.”

The next breath you took was a million times lighter than any you’d had since seeing Kylo those days ago. She really did see you, more than she could ever know. It was imperfect, of course; you weren’t sure anyone would ever be fully aware of how much pain you were in, there was so much you could never share. It was her offer that brought you solace; it may be superficial for you, but Talia was in your corner, and she believed, knew, that it meant something. In her eyes, pooled with intensity, you heard her loud and clear: that oath, born in blood, was renewed here and now, its strength indelible even in silence.

“Now,” she activated the door, its hiss shivering down your spine, “I think Mason would love it if you caught up with him.” The two of you stepped into the hall, already beginning to part paths. “I’d invite you to stay with me but I, uh…”

“You’ll be otherwise predisposed?”

“…We’ll see,” rose bloomed in her cheeks, “I don’t think I’ll tell him. Not tonight. Not yet.”

“Ah,” you sighed, a yawn slipping past.

“Get some sleep! And maybe just… get some, you know?”

The joke registered too late, her paces halfway down the hall before you called out, “Oh. Oh. No, I’m not with- we aren’t anything more than friends.” Not sure if she even heard you, she waved behind her before turning a corner. Well. That’ll need clarifying.

Heat flared in your cheeks, several pairs of eyes weighing on your shoulders at the outburst. Would there ever be a day when you were not embarrassing yourself on this unit? Given this would be the last shift before going to Canto Bight, probably not. Eyes tracking your steps, deciding to surprise Mason instead of call him, you found your way to the on-call room where your entire world was set up; remnants of a past one, at least.

In it you gathered your belongings – a pair of back up scrubs, a toiletries bag, and the lifeless watch. There was a hesitance before placing the device with the other items. Six nights you had spent staring at its blank face, resenting the stranger you’d come to see. Glancing your face before placing it in the bag, you did a double-take. In the most minute details, barely there, you found a familiarity in the eyes you met; they were less dull, something like life or light peeking through the surface.

You dropped the gadget into your pocket, gathered your uniform into the bag, and took a final glance at the shelter you’d sought amidst a storm that had nearly consumed you. Even though nothing had truly mended, there was comfort in the absence of solitude; in the face of probable death, the explicit knowledge that you were not alone made it less daunting. Less impossible.

A final breath brought the door to a close, footsteps leading you into the vast expanse of the Finalizer. The change in air was nice, lungs welcoming the difference and cluing you into the fact you still had a gauze square shoved up your nose. It took a tug to pull it from its place, a sting pinching at the sudden release of pressure.

“Shit,” you hissed, feeling a new stream of warmth trickle past your lips. Two fingers pressed to your mouth, testing for a mirage but coming back with the real thing, red creaks splintering into the ridges of your fingerprint. Without thinking you wiped it down your scrub top, forgetting you were no longer clothed in camouflaging black, but instead unforgiving grey. “Fuck!”

“Wasn’t this how I left you here the last time?”

The airlock must have snapped, lungs solid, muscles frozen. Tension seized your ribcage, pulse plummeting, blood bounding against tuned ears. Every bit of moisture abandoned your mouth. Every bodily process you could think of stopped.

There was no modulation, each word raw, bare, and clear as the last time you had heard their founder. At least, the last time you’d heard it while awake. It was less haunted now, filled not with insidious rage but rather bone-chilling earnest.

“I suppose not, given it’s your blood tonight.”

He drew nearer, boots heavy and steps paced to perfection, the rhythm of his stride an echo of your heart. Kylo Ren was less than three paces from you and all you could do was endure the sensation of a singular ruby droplet following the line of your artery, dragging past your clavicle, and ghosting the skin over your sternum. The crimson trail began to dry, steps no longer sounding when you forced yourself to look up.

Chaos tore into the base of your spine, every nerve ending firing at the sight of his bare face, no helmet to veil the visage you had memorized. The black strip rested in prominence, striking through his features; in it you found a curious attraction, finding it fit him. The wound was less severe now, healing with time. He wore no helmet, but that by no means meant there was no mask keeping him at a distance only he knew the measure of.

“Where have you been, officer?” Cyanosis was a likely reality, breath still evading you as each word fell in baritone; petrified pupils not knowing where to focus. “Your services finally required, and yet you were nowhere to be found.”

Nothing. No words. No sound. No thoughts. Barren in every aspect of cognizance, you remained silent and still, only knowing to perceive him for what he was: superior.

A twitch at his brow, a narrowing of his eyes. Studying. Testing. “How unfortunate; starved for words when they would actually count.” His injury moved fluidly against his words, a beauty in the way it ebbed with each syllable.

A ping sounded at your waist, commlink buzzing in your pocket.

Languid, Kylo’s eyes dipped toward the sound. “You should get that,” he drawled, eyes twitching before conquering yours once more, “could be important.”

His tone haunted you, demeanor too suggestive. You swallowed against a dry throat, locked in his stare, knuckles brushing your watch when you took out your commlink. It trembled in your grip, shocked muscles heavy with weakness. His concentration had become adamant, palpable, an eyebrow prompting your attention to whatever message had triggered the alarm.

Concerning the defendant,

In the week since the previous correspondence, it has come to be that the defendant is to partake in nursing practice during her time on Canto Bight. This allows the Board of Physicians ease in collecting surveillance imperative to their final judgement.

Commander Ren’s decision to bar the defendant from external practice has been nullified as to not contradict this process.

In permitting the defendant’s practice while on trial, the objective to obtain a new provider has been benched. Due to this, the defendant shall remain assigned to her current Master while residing on Canto Bight…

At last, breath flourished your lungs, an inadvertent gasp thrusting a glutton of oxygen into your airway. Crazed eyes darted over the message for any sign of a mistake that would prove it to be falsified; the only thing you could find was finality, a document containing the proposed schedule attached at the end of the message.

A buzz washed through your brain, overstimulated by the information, everything around you suddenly all too close and bright. Jaw bound shut but still trembling, eyes low and unfocused, a familiar pressure flicked just under your chin. The Force tipped your face upward, pupils strict in their position, passing first over a tense jaw and landing at last on the challenge that lay behind Kylo Ren’s glare.

“I’ll see you on Canto Bight, officer.” A serpentine smirk slithered along his lips, one stride bringing him so his face was hidden, shoulder linked with yours, and fingers jut out to graze at the hidden permanence atop your left thigh. His voice, an onslaught of emptiness, a cold threat, suffocated all that surrounded you. “You wanted to give me more? Prove it.”

#kylo ren #kylo ren fanfic #kylo ren x you #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren imagine #ao3 #st kyp

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melissart · 4 years

Text

Date Night

Terry x Korvo Solar Opposites fanfiction!

Rating: M

Warnings: Alien sex stuff, Korvo cries during sex a lot, NSF*W

Genre: romance, comedy, hurt/comfort

Words: 3,852

Summary: “Couples go to scheduled fancy dinners to help keep their relationship alive.“

Korvo paced around the backyard with his Element Detector.

Beep… beep… beep…

Nothing.

There were no useful elements on Earth! Of all the 118 elements that Earth discovered, everything just had to be carbon-based. Korvo had enough carbon to last the destruction of five planets. What he needed was the isotope Megeon-166--or as it’s called on Earth, Erbium. He needed at least 15 moles to repair the ship and, of course, nobody was helping him. What was the point in being mad, anymore? He knew nobody would help him but it never got any less frustrating.

Terry slid open the back door while cradling a tray of Starbucks™ frappuccinos in one arm. “Korvo!” he called out. “Got your favorite--matcha frappuccino!”

No, that’s not right--Terry did help. Just in a different way. Only Terry knew how to get everyone’s Starbucks™ drinks right.

Korvo tossed the Element Detector over his shoulder and took his frappuccino. Oh, the first sip was always the best. The whipped cream was at the bottom just the way he liked it.

Terry just… stood there and watched him drink the frappuccino. He wasn’t even going to sip his own untouched pink drink. He was waiting for a specific response from Korvo. Probably one that was two words and began with a “T”.

Korvo sighed. He had to relent. “Thank y--”

“--Do you know what day it is today?” Terry quickly blurted out. He was unusually excited.

Korvo paused for a second. The effects of the Dumb Ray still hadn’t subsided completely. “Friday?” Was he forgetting something? It couldn’t possibly be their anniversary.

“That’s right! It’s the first Friday of the month! That means it’s date night!”

“That is ridiculous. Every night occurs on a date.”

Terry laughed and put his hand on Korvo’s shoulder. Everything was a joke to him. “That gets funnier every time!”

Korvo brushes Terry’s hand off of him. It seems that Korvo has forgotten what “date night” was. Ten blasts of a Dumb Ray does that to you. “Explain it to me again.”

“Couples go to scheduled fancy dinners to help keep their relationship alive.”

Evidently, Terry has explained this concept multiple times. There were no side tangents, no movie references, and no headaches. “I am satisfied with our relationship.” Korvo sunk into himself and slightly turned away. “Are… you… not satisfied?”

Terry erupted into an even louder bout of laughter and slapped his knee. “Hah! That gets funnier every time, too! It’s for fun, Korvo. I already made reservations at your favorite restaurant for 8PM.”

“But, I--”

Terry was already heading back inside to give Jesse and Yumyulack their drinks. “Make sure you wear something nice this time!”

Korvo racked his mind for any memories of going on a date night with Terry, but there was nothing. Korvo didn’t realize how harsh the effects of the Dumb Ray were. He felt like an idiot. Maybe it was like the NBC show Dateline. He had some researching to do. If Terry found out Korvo’s memory was still foggy, Korvo would surely get locked up again.

Terry was about to go on the best date night of his short, pathetic life.

---

It was 7:50 PM, Terry was already dressed in his favorite pink button-up with the top button unbuttoned and jeans, and Korvo was nowhere to be found. To make things worse, Korvo took the car so Terry couldn’t even go to the nearest Jack in the Box to drown his sorrows in a $5 munchie meal. It was uncharacteristic of Korvo to forget about date night, especially when he reminded Korvo just earlier. Perhaps, he wondered, the Dumb Ray effects had not subsided yet.

He went into the replicants’ bedroom to ask them if they knew where Korvo was, but they were gone. That’s right, they were at a party and said they wouldn’t be back home until midnight. Terry was alone at the house. Bored. Bored in the house and in the house bored--just as how that TikTok prophesied.

There were three loud knocks on the front door. Terry groaned. “Coming!” He wasn’t in the mood to entertain the neighbors.

Terry opened the door to find a bouquet of a dozen red roses being shoved into his face. It was Korvo, all dressed up in a tuxedo as if he was about to get married.

“I have arrived to date night you,” Korvo declared.

Terry happily accepted the bouquet. “Sick plants, dude! I didn’t know they came in red.”

“Red means love.”

“Cool! Should I plant them?”

“No, you put them in a vase with water.”

“Hmm…” Terry stared at the stems. “I don’t know, Korvo, don’t plants need dirt?”

“Why would I--” Korvo stopped himself and took a deep breath. He had to be charismatic. “You put them in a vase, you look at them for a couple days, and then they die.”

“Aww…” Now Terry was bummed out. He hated reminders of his planned obsolescence and inevitable death. “What’s the point of it, then?”

“Because they’re red, Terry!” Korvo’s fury was quick to resurface. “Red means love!”

“Okay, fine, but you don’t have to yell!”

Korvo hated himself. Stupid. He was already ruining their date night.

----

Jazz music played softly in the background. It would have been relaxing if it weren’t avant-garde jazz. It was times like these that made Korvo pray for the Pupa to eat everyone and terraform the planet, already. He had no idea how the cacophony he was hearing could possibly be classified as music. There was no discernible key signature, no rhythm, no melody, no dynamics--it was literally just a collection of instruments blasting away and competing with each other to see who could best resemble a dying animal.

“What the hell is this?” he grumbled.

Terry was busy looking through the menu. “‘Om’ by John Coltrane.”

Korvo was taken aback by the answer. He didn’t know Terry listened to this kind of noise. Even TV static sounded more harmonious. “What’s the point of it?” The thought of someone sitting in a recording studio and blasting terrible screeches into a microphone was enough to make someone gloober.

“Uh, to piss off people like you, duh!” Terry scoffed. “Just relax a little, okay, Korvy?” He reached across the table to put his hand over Korvo’s.

Korvo stared down at Terry’s hand and pondered for a moment. He curled his fingers over Terry’s hand. “I see… So what you’re saying is that music acts as a medium not only to organize patterns and produce a conventionally pleasing aesthetic, but also to defy those same standards and redefine the purpose of music through an ironic lens?”

“That’s jazz, baby!” For emphasis, Terry does jazz hands with his free hand.

Korvo leaned in and clasped his other hand over Terry’s. “You know a lot about music,” he comments. A loving smile curled the corners of his mouth upwards.

Terry smirked. “Well, I did major in music when we went to community college… Remember when we did that? That was fun.”

Korvo’s smile dropped. “You did?” He had no idea.

“Yeah, I majored in percussion performance. I was trying to get into a drumline, like in the movie Whiplash. Don’t you remember? I even invited you to my winter and spring recital.”

Korvo genuinely could not recall anything after Terry referencing Whiplash. This wasn’t on the Dumb Ray, this was clearly on his own negligence. “Oh.” Now that he thought about it, Terry was really good at drumming.

Terry withdrew his hand and crossed his arms. He sighed, slumped into his seat, and looked away forlornly. “It’s okay, you were probably busy working on the ship… The mission is always the highest priority.” He was already conditioned to expect disappointment when telling Korvo anything about his personal ambitions. It was Wetzel’s Pretzels all over again.

“It is...” Korvo agreed.

Terry felt his heart sink.

“... but you’re a high priority to me, too.”

Before Terry could respond, their waiter interrupted to take their orders. “Seafood platter for him, fettuccine chicken alfredo pasta for me, and your biggest bottle of wine.”

“Of course, sir.” The waiter took their menus away and left to relay the orders to the kitchen.

Fuck, Korvo loved it when Terry ordered for the both of them. It made him feel slightly lesser. He tugged at his neck collar.

“You know… I didn’t actually want to be a Pupa Specialist,” Terry quietly confessed. “I wish I could’ve been a music major on Shlorp.”

“You could’ve,” Korvo reminded him, “but you’d be dead.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know...”

Korvo watched Terry slump further into his seat. He was blowing it. Again. Discreetly, he took out his phone on his lap and pulled up a Wikihow article he had bookmarked on Safari: “How to Get Guys to Like You More when You Go on a date”. He skipped to step 3, “Be conversational.” Korvo cleared his throat. “Um… I wanted to be a biologist on Shlorp.”

“Aren’t you already a biologist?” Terry argued. “Science is like, your whole gimmick.”

“I’m an electrical engineer. I work with technology. I only got to take a few biology courses but my schedule was so loaded since I was a math/physics/engineering triple major, so I had no time to declare a minor in biology.”

Terry laughed. “You sure dodged a bullet! Pupa Specialists had to take a shitton of bio classes, and let me tell you, the only silver lining is the sex unit.”

“There’s a sex unit?”

“Yeah! Meiosis, DNA, best positions, tongue stuff… Jesse was conceived during that unit!” Terry smiled fondly, as if it were a normal sweet memory to be nostalgic of. “Ooh, ooh, how was Yumyulack conceived?”

“With my right hand and a magazine at a lab.” Korvo didn’t realize there was anything more to it than that. “Tell me more about this unit,” he demanded.

“Okay, so on the first day of class, our lab experiment for the day is to analyze genetic fluids, but wait! Our old tree professor forgot to order enough sample genetic fluids for the entire class! But, it turns out that collecting genetic fluids is the real lab experiment! Of course, I’m just sitting there with my lifemate, confused as hell, while the TA’s start to unbutton their robes…”

------

Terry and Korvo laughed as they stumbled out of the restaurant together, holding hands and swinging it between them. When Terry asked for their biggest bottle of wine, they sure did deliver. Behind them, the warm glow of the restaurant faded away as they searched for their car.

Terry wiped away tears of mirth with the back of his hand. “So I said, ‘You wouldn’t know one if you saw one!’”

Korvo dropped the car keys as he erupted in more laughter. “Hohoheehoihoiheehoihoi! You sure told him! That was something that you told him, alright!”

Korvo and Terry crouched down to reach for the car keys at the same time. They both groped around the spinning ground until their hands met. They looked up at each other with the same dazed, lovesick look in their eyes.

Within seconds, they were sloppily making out. Terry had so much to drink that he couldn’t even feel where his body started and Korvo’s ended. All he could taste was wine and seafood. He felt Korvo topple over, putting Terry on top of him, straddling Korvo’s hips between his legs. Their tongues swirled around each other as Korvo moaned and dug his fingers onto the back of Terry’s shirt. The sidewalk was cold, but their bodies were hot enough to compensate.

Terry pulled away and fumbled to unbutton his shirt.

“Woah, woah, woah--I think we should, should go home first.” Korvo slowly sat himself up.

“You can’t even drive!”

“Of course I can!” Korvo declared, unintentionally flicking specks of saliva onto Terry’s face as he spoke. “W-We’re aliens! Our bodies… they got high tolerance… Alcohol sharpens our senses!” He pushed Terry off of him and crawled over to the car keys.

Terry helped him up. “That doesn’t sound so right, but I don’t know enough to argue with that!”

Korvo waved the car key fob in the air and pressed the lock button repeatedly, struggling to hear where their car was. “Beep beep! Beep beep! Beep beep!” he called out, as if it were a dog that could respond and come running over. “Fuck, where’d I park?”

Terry turned Korvo around to face their car.

“Oh shiiit, found it!”

Korvo clicked the unlock button a few dozen times, then they let themselves in. Neither of them bothered to strap in their seatbelts.

-----

As soon as their bedroom door was shut and locked, Korvo and Terry started hurriedly undressing each other. Terry kissed Korvo’s neck as he loosened his bowtie while Korvo yanked Terry’s shorts down and began unbuttoning his shirt.

“Fuuuck, Terry,” Korvo raspily moaned out. “I-I want you to dominate me! Dominate me, Terry! Make me your slut!”

“Yeah, you’re a little slut, huh?” Terry palmed Korvo’s mound. “My fucking whore needs to be taught a lesson?”

Korvo bucked his hips into Terry’s hand. “Yes, Terry!” he groaned. “Teach me a lesson!”

Terry swept Korvo off his feet in one motion and carried him to the bed. As soon as he dropped him, he crawled on top of Korvo and tugged Korvo’s dress pants down. Korvo’s rootstalk was eager to be exposed, wriggling out of its hole to meet Terry’s tongue. Terry gave the thick root one long, slobbering, lick up the shaft and to the tip. “Alright, Korvy, pop quiz--what’s the powerhouse of the cell?”

Korvo didn’t respond.

“Wait, Korvo, you do know what the powerhouse of the cell is, don’t you?” Terry heard a small sob. He looked up at Korvo, who was covering his blushing face, wet and shiny from fresh tears. Terry crawled away from between Korvo’s legs and to his side. “Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” he whispered gently. He coaxed Korvo’s hands away from his face.

Of course, being asked what was wrong only made Korvo cry harder and curl away. “I-I-I forgot!” he wailed. “I f-forgot what the powerhouse of the cell is! W-What is it? I have no f-f-fucking clue!”

Terry hugged him from behind. “It’s okay, baby, it doesn’t matter! It’s just the mitochondria.”

“I-I just… I just feel so dumb. I’ve been waiting weeks for my intelligence to fully recover ever since you hit me with the Dumb Ray, but… but that’s it. This is as smart as I ever was before! And I’m fucking s-s-st-stu-stupid!”

Terry squeezed him harder while he sobbed and wailed and gooblered all over the both of them. “There, there, Korvo.” He knew the drill. Korvo cried during sex all the time--something about the physical release of his genetic fluids seemed to trigger an emotional catharsis in him. This time was unusually early, though. They hadn’t even finished foreplay. “Do you want some ice cream?”

“N-No, let’s continue having sex,” Korvo insists.

“But you’re crying--”

“--Well, I’m still horny!” He tried to dry his eyes, but it was a Sisyphean task.

“Alright, fine, but talk about your feelings while I’m sucking you off.” Terry crawled back over to Korvo’s crotch and continued where he left off--licking the thick root all over, from bottom to top. He began sucking the tip of it, which wriggled slightly as it grew more.

Korvo panted heavily. “O-O-Oh my g-god…” Hot pleasure took over him. “Well, I wanted to be a biologist on Shlorp, but…” He interrupted himself with a loud moan when Terry started deep-throating his root. “Hohhhmygod! Oh, Terry! Fuck, it feels so good!” He felt his root lengthening more and wriggle down Terry’s throat. “Terry, Terry, Terry… I’m gonna--ohhh, fuck…”

Terry gave a small grunt of surprise when Korvo’s genetic fluids began squirting down his throat. He could just barely taste the sweet, floral nectar as he swallowed. There was so much to swallow down. Korvo was always so repressed--he was always too busy studying repair manuals to jerk off every now and then.

Korvo felt dizzy from the waves of pleasure still crashing over him after his release. “Terry, I love y--”

“--What happened?” Terry interrupted.

“Huh?”

“What happened to being a biologist?” Terry asked again. “I mean, you could’ve just not majored in so many majors in the first place, right?”

Korvo grabbed a spare pillow and put it over his face. “It’s not important anymore, never mind,” he said, muffled.

“Korvo, c’mon, I won’t tell you my secret sex techniques if you don’t tell me your tragic backstory.”

Korvo uncovered his face. “Tell me,” he demanded.

“You first!”

Korvo took a moment to decide if it was truly worth opening up about his deepest, darkest insecurities just for sex. It was a very short moment. “I got a B+ in Intro to Biology my first year.”

Terry waited for further explanation, but there was nothing more. “B+ isn’t a bad grade?”

“I know!” Korvo snapped. “But I-I freaked out! That was my first B in a class, ever! And now we’re stuck on Earth and the Pupa could destroy us all any second and it’ll be all my fault because I wasn’t smart enough to fix the ship! And I’m not even smart enough to understand why the Pupa is 670C because I got freaked out over a B! And now we’re all going to die!” Gooblers danced all over their bedsheets.

“Korvo, baby, relax!” He wiped away Korvo’s tears. “Even if you quadruple-majored in biology/math/physics/engineering, we’d still be on Earth because you couldn’t fix the ship. It doesn’t matter!”

Korvo buried his face into Terry’s chest and gave out a strangled scream.

Terry laughed to himself. “I mean, what’s the point of studying so much if you can’t even fix the ship?” He stroked the back of Korvo’s head lovingly. “I was able to fix a lavatic reactor in just a few minutes of reading one of your dumb manuals!” One of the gooblers popped straight into his eye. “Ow! Okay, I’m sorry! I guess the point is, uh… I’ll help you fix the ship. How does that sound?”

The gooblers finally came to a stop. “You will?”

“Anything to get you to stop crying during sex…” Terry grumbled.

Korvo began showering Terry with kisses. “Oh, Terry! Thank you! Mwah, mwah! Thank you so much! There’s so much I still have yet to diagnose in the ship--the catalytic nasprober, the psionic cholecystosanitizer, the carcino-fibrillator, the hexylgraph, the blinkers--”

The list went on and on and on and on and on. Terry didn’t realize how much was wrong with the ship until now. He started to understand why Korvo was so stressed out all the time. Korvo had spent hours every day working on the ship for over a year, and this entire time Terry assumed that Korvo was just bad at repairing.

There had to be an end to this. Terry slowly crawled back over to Korvo’s root, still wet with saliva and nectar genetic fluids, and began sucking at it again. It was only a matter of seconds until Korvo was back to being a squirming, moaning mess.

Korvo rested his hand on Terry’s head. “T-T-Terry, T-Terry! Oh, Terry!”

After Terry deemed it wet enough, he finally gave his mouth a break. “Okay, don’t freak out,” he warned Korvo.

“Why should I not freak out?” Korvo asked, freaking out already.

“I’m gonna try a special Shlorpian sex technique on you.”

Korvo has only ever had sex with Terry the traditional way--humping and twisting their roots around each other. “It won’t hurt, will it?”

“Hmm--well--um---I wouldn’t say hurt?”

“I do not like your hesitance.”

“Okay, okay, okay! So, you twist up your partner’s root into a spiral-cone-thing, tuck that into their root-hole, and fuck it like a pussy, basically.”

The image of it was vivid in Korvo’s head. It sounded so… demeaning and aggressive. “Okay.”

Terry kissed him. “I love you!” He licks Korvo’s root and tries to coat as much saliva as he can on it before twisting the root as tight as he can. This, of course, is not the part where it hurts because their roots do not have pain receptors. With his other hand, he gently pries open Korvo’s root hole.

Korvo groaned. He felt so violated in a way he had never felt before. It felt so lewd to have Terry stretch his root hole open. He bites his tongue when Terry starts fingering him. “Mmghh…!” It hurt so good.

“Damn, Korvo, you’re so tight. Tighter than Honey Boo Boo’s training bra!”

“Oh, shut up.”

“Seriously, you make Terri look like a corner street hooker! Because you’re so tight, get it?”

“Yes, Terry. I get it.”

Terry lapped at Korvo’s hole, then stuck the tip of his tongue in. Breathy moans spilled out of Korvo as he clencher himself around Terry’s tongue. Terry went back to sucking on Korvo’s root while slowly pushing his finger inside of Korvo’s hole. Korvo’s moans crescendoed with every millimeter Terry pushed in. Terry tried to wriggle his finger and stretch out Korvo’s hole as much as he could before squeezing in another one.

“Ahh… Ahh! T-Terry! Oh my god--Terry! Mmphh!” Korvo grinded his hips against Terry’s fingers. “Fuck, fuck, fuck! T-Th-That feels s-so good!” He was close to cumming all over again.

Terry took his mouth off of Korvo’s root and began twirling the root around his finger. He wasn’t one to brag, but it was known that he had the best root-twirling technique in his class. Korvo’s root was, thankfully, very flexible and easily conformed to the twirled form. Terry quickly shoved the root as deep into Korvo’s hole as possible. There was a soft squelch underneath Korvo’s grunts. Terry got on top of Korvo, pinned Korvo’s arms over his head, and kissed him as he gently pushed his root inside of Korvo.

Korvo wrapped his legs around Terry’s hips. He finally understood the human concept of “heaven” and it was Terry holding him down and jack-hammering away at his hole. Within seconds, he was already cumming. His root clenched hard around Terry’s and squirted more lubrication for Terry to penetrate even deeper and harder.

It wasn’t long until Terry cummed, too. His hot nectar filled Korvo up and leaked all over both of their groins. He slowed down, then eventually paused. This was usually around the time when Korvo started to cry again. He rested his sweaty forehead against Korvo’s. “Korvo?”

The waterworks came back. “Terry, I love you so much! I-I-I’m sorry I keep crying d-during s-s-sex!”

“It’s okay, I love you too.” He accepted more tear-stained kisses. “Do you wanna keep going?”

Korvo shook his head no.

Terry got off of Korvo and hugged Korvo and patted his back while he cried. “It’s okay, Korvy… I love you a lot, too! We have a house and replicants and a cute little Pupa--we really nailed this whole family thing, huh?”

All in all, Terry would say that it was a very successful date night.

#solar opposites #tervo #fanfiction #terry #korvo #terry x korvo #korvotron

25 notes · View notes

sadistic-second · 4 years

Text

ShinRa Company Policy

//So I wrote a little something. Nothing fancy. Just trying to explore ideas that I come up with. This was inspired by an audio I heard on tiktok. I managed to find the whole song and well. @turkoftheslums indulged and helped me a little bit with this. So please, enjoy.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The plate drop had been on his mind for several weeks now. Most of his injuries had healed up. There were a few bruises that felt like they refused to heal. Something that worked as a constant reminder of what he had done. And sure, okay. He hadn’t even really been the one to push the button. All he had done was set it up. His hesitation at the computer had forced Rude to hit the final button. His best friend, his partner in crime, one of three men he would sacrifice himself for. He had tried to apologize, make it up to the man the best ways he knew how. No matter what Rude said or did, Reno felt like it wasn’t enough.

How did one ease a burden like this upon their own soul?

It was early morning when he walked into Tseng’s office. Sure he’d knocked, but that hadn’t stopped him from waiting for an answer. Papers of resignation had been thrown onto the man’s desk. The only words Reno had said was, “I quit.” He knew the consequences of these actions. Under the old regime, that meant a bullet to the back of the head. While that had been what he’d figured Tseng would do the moment he turned his back. When it didn’t come, he found that he was allowed to walk out of his office. Unsure with what to do actually do now, he decided his best course of action was to clean out his workspace and go home.

The space that he called his own was messy at best. Picking the trashcan up from the floor, he started throwing discarded candy wrappers into it. He didn’t really want to take down his wall of pink slips, but that would have to go, wouldn't it? He’d keep them, maybe shove them into a drawer in his apartment for safekeeping. Everything that could be thrown away was. Everything else was put into a box for him to carry out. There wasn’t much worth keeping in his office.

Lifting the box from his desk, he turned to walk out. Waiting for him outside was his Director. Or well, his former Director. All the man did was look at him and gesture in the direction in which he wanted him to walk. Now, a thought occurred to Reno: Tseng wasn’t his boss anymore so there was no reason to just blindly follow his orders. So when the redhead took a step in the other direction, he heard the distinct sound of a cocking gun. Alright. Swiveling on his foot, he began to walk in the direction that had been previously indicated.

Now, what the ex-Turk thought was going to happen included being taken into a room with all the other Turks and an example being made of him. Or perhaps they wouldn't even give him that. Tseng might just end him right there in the hallway. Each footstep scared him more than the last. His breath quickens, his heart rate rose rapidly. An anxiety attack seemed imminent. However, they stopped in front of the elevator. Was he just going to be escorted to the lobby? Perhaps he would be allowed to leave after all.

The elevator went up. That alone was a good sign. Or so he would have liked to believe. They traveled past the lobby. Nervous eyes watched the people below get significantly smaller as they ascended. A glance towards the display let him know exactly where they were going.

"Hey man, there's no need to get the President involved." A pause to see if the man would respond. Silence. A pair of canines lodged themselves into a tender section of cheek hard enough to draw blood. "Seriously, just let me leave, man. This doesn't have to escalate any further." Still nothing. The air was growing heavy between them. It was only a matter of time before the redhead had a panic attack.

Finally, the doors opened. Immediately upon instinct, Reno tried to make a run for it. When Tseng didn't make a move to stop him, he figured that he could getaway. But that's where he was wrong. Rude had been waiting for him outside the doors. Almost as if everyone knew the idiot would try and run. Now escorted by his former partner and director, the ex-Turk had no choice but to walk down that path towards the unknown.

Rude had been told to stand guard and prevent the redhead from leaving should he choose to run once more. The redhead knew exactly what was awaiting him on the other side of that door. Perhaps that was why he hadn’t moved. The two Turks beside him were discussing something that fell on deaf ears. His mind had chosen to wander in a different direction; if Tseng wasn’t going to be the one to put him down, was that job being entrusted to Rufus? Imagine having his brains blown out all over the floor with a shotgun.

Oh, but then again, didn’t he have an aversion to blood? So perhaps there would be another way that his life would end. Or maybe, and this was the one that he was banking on, they would just let him go. Cut any and all ties necessary and then just boot him off somewhere. The middle of nowhere sounded nice. Maybe a little island or something. But could Reno get that lucky? One would like to think this, but given the streak of things that had been happening lately, that wasn’t very likely.

A nudge to the small of his back and he was being brought back to reality. Another nudge and he was being forced through an open door. When in the blazes had that opened? Not that he had much time to really think. Eyes were wildly searching the vast open room before him. There was no sign of the blond at first glance. Either his eyes just didn't register another person from the sheer amount of panic now coursing through his veins or the man simply just wasn’t there.

“Director Tseng tells me that you’ve decided to quit.”

The voice came from the side. When his head whipped around, Rufus ShinRa came into view. Hands seemed to be clamped behind his back, his gaze never seeming to leave the redhead. There was something of a shiver running down his spine now. Said mentioned Turk had slipped from his place behind Reno and was now standing off on the opposite side.

“Uh, yeah. That’s what I’ve decided to do.”

“And why might that be?”

“Can’t live with the guilt.”

Everyone in the room knew what the redhead was referring to. Here again, even if Reno hadn’t been the one to push the final button, he had initiated it. That, in his mind, was just as bad. Rude seemed to be handling this a lot better than him. Seemed to be alright with what they had done. Little did Reno know that his best friend was battling some of the same feelings that he was. Just seemed better at handling it than he did. If only they had talked about it instead of this impulsive idiot acting alone.

“It would seem to me that you’ve forgotten something, Reno. Did you not read the company policy? It clearly defines you all as my own property.” There was this sickeningly sweet smile on the blond’s face. That alone was enough to terrify Reno.

“Sir, wha-”

“It waivers your say in autonomy. I hope you know your life will always belong to me.”

That wasn’t really something that Reno could argue against. The man had pardoned them and in a sense, that did more or less mean he owned them. But as far as the man taking possession of their lives? Was that really something that the redhead was going to stand for?

Whatever his own thoughts on the matter might have been, they seemed to vanish the moment he watched the President start to advance towards him. His hands had unclasped, they were now raised to his sides.

“We put the loyalty back into disloyalty. If you’re upset, that’s a vulnerability.” The look on Reno’s face was that of someone who was upset. This whole situation for one didn’t make much sense. The redhead wanted to quit. What was with this display? Was he being toyed with right now? “We’re a family forged in mass tyranny.”

The closer the man came to him, the more he backed away. Tseng hadn’t moved from his spot, silent as ever, merely watching these events unfold before him. The redhead started to stutter, stammer. Fail at attempting any sort of words. This was starting to scare him a little bit.

“Sir, I don’t thi-”

“Tut tut. There’s no ‘i’ in ‘team’, Reno, but there is a ‘die’ in ‘diversity’.” A pause to consider the horrified look on the Turk’s face before continuing. “You thought your service was over? Are you really that dumb? Reno, you’re not sober. This exposure is making you bolder. So why don’t you venture back down to your slum.” An arm was waved somewhere behind him as if gesturing to where the plate had just fallen. A somewhat meticulous grin spreading across the blond’s face.

“Just know that we'll always have eyes on you. Is this really worth the trouble you're going through?”

The redheaded Turk just kind of backed himself into a corner. Or rather, tripped himself into a corner. He misstepped in his need to get away from the other. Landing flat on his ass, he was staring up at an almost immaculate sight. The way the man shielded him from the lights created what he would have called an almost genuine halo-like effect. Too bad he couldn't be sure that this man was really an angel. More like a devil in disguise at this point.

Despite whatever words fought to escape from betwixt his lips, they were all swallowed. There was frustration written all over his features. A faint ‘tch’ was the only sound he made. His gaze eventually broke away from the blond’s face and he was looking off to the side, staring at the wall. Fingers had curled up, hands balling into fists.

Every single thing this man had said to him was true. Maybe the redhead really was that dumb. Stupid enough to think that he could actually just walk away as if nothing had happened. If ShinRa didn't kill him, the other Slum Rats would. Their reasons would vary, of course. Turks. The scientists. SOLDIERs. The civilians. Literally, anyone or anything could end his life at any moment. But as long as he worked for the Turks, he would be perfectly safe.

Though saying that he was safe was relative at this point. There he sat on the ground in this corner, cowering. There was no trying to hide it. The redhead was scared. Anyone looking at him would have seen it written all over his face. Where was the warning shot? Half expected a shotgun to press itself under his chin. Feel the warmth of the metal against his flesh. Leave a burn as a reminder of what happened here. When no such thing came, he opened his eyes. When they had closed he wasn’t sure. But he found himself staring back up at the man. That’s what he seemed to be waiting for. A hand had reached into his pocket and that’s when Reno flinched. After several moments of silence and no echoing gunshot, his eyes opened once more and there was a hand in front of his face.

But placing in the palm was something that he had never seen before. It looked metallic. Chain links? They appeared to be stuck together in a way that was impossible to break apart. The hand shook just enough for the chains to jingle. So it wasn’t as rigid as it first appeared. But he could tell that they couldn't easily come undone. The blond toyed with it, manipulated it this way and that. No matter what he did, the three links stayed together.

“Do you know what this is?” Reno shook his head. “It's a . . . Metal puzzle of sorts. One of those ‘impossible puzzles’, I’m told. These three chain links aren’t meant to come apart, but if you somehow manage it? I’ll let you leave your service.”

This puzzle could be solved. They were meant to be incredibly difficult to take apart, however. The truly intellectual would be able to pull them apart. Not to say that Reno wasn’t smart. But he lacked the particular set of logic required to figure it out. This toy would sit in his possession for quite a while. He would either figure it out and get to leave. Or he would eternally be in this man’s employ until he was dead.

Rufus tossed the puzzle into the Turk’s lap and ruffled his hair before turning around and dismissing him. Tseng walked over and nudged the redhead with his foot. Motioned for him to get up, follow him to the door. There was a lot of work to be done and so little time to do it. It was a bit of a struggle, but once he was on his feet, they were leaving the office. Rude was rejoining them and the redhead looked down at the puzzle in his hands.

This, this was never going to get solved, was it?

Well fuck.

#ShinRa Company Policy #Written By Asher #Inspired by The Stupendium THE FINE PRINT | The Outer Worlds Song #Parodied and Edited by turkoftheslums #Man if only this translated the way I wanted it to #Brain words and written words differ a bit #But I mean #I like the overall final product #:genhappy:#What I would do to roleplay this or something similar though #OOF

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seapandora · 4 years

Text

Sky High, Part 5

Steve x fem!reader

Part 4

A/N: This has been in the works for a while now. I want to apologize for all of those of you who have waited. Let me know if you´d like me to do a taglist! We´re closing in on the end, which I´m gonna love writing… Anyways, This is a part of my Series Sky High. Please consider reading the previous parts if you haven´t. It´s all part of @buckysknifecollection challenge that is ongoing until october. Check out the other entries as well. Please tell me your thoughts!

Warnings: Swearing (I swear a lot, okay), sexual innuendos (later chapters), alcohol, mentions of death/killing, mentions of religion(s), descriptions of toxic relationships!, talks about manipulation

Words: 2702

“Y/N, look. I´m not sure I can answer your questions. I… I can only answer for myself and my demons, and I don’t think I should consider your ties with heaven. We aren´t exactly playing for the same team. I needed the Nephilim, but you got to her first. Why she was your mission I can´t answer. Which is why I grabbed you as you were transferring and then we ended up Universe knows where. And then you just left me there. I have no idea what happened. I have never transferred with someone else before. I´m not as experienced in this world as you are,” Steve explained, and it was a nice way to say he wasn’t as ´old´ as Y/N. Not that she looked it at all.

She watched him but felt like he was telling her the truth, or most of it at least. “But why were you after the Nephilim?” She pressed thinking that might help her understand heavens' mission. Steve just shook her head which was answer enough for Y/N. She would have to figure it out herself then. Her mind immediately went to thinking what Nephilims were used for. It wasn’t much, but what she thought of scared her.

“Hey, are you listening to me?” Steve asked and frowned as he stared at her. “No, sorry, I spaced out. You were saying?...” She answered and turned her attention back to the demon. “I was asking if you had received any missions since you came back?” He asked and took a sip of water from his glass. Y/N shook her head and sighed. “I´m on rest for now and I probably won´t be back for a few more days. I have been working non-stop for the past centuries, it´s nice to get a break every now and then.” She mumbled and clenched her jaw as she felt a migraine sneak through her head. She had had them recurringly the past few days. Well since she woke up in Rowor actually.

Steve nodded and sighed. “Yes, well I better get going before my knights starts to ask where I´ve run off to. I´m sorry I couldn’t be of more help Y/N. And thank you for letting me see this side of you,” He said and gave her a genuine smile, one he only reserved for special people. She had spaced out again so Steve simply got up and transferred back to hell where his two knights were waiting.

“Steve, there you are. We were about to send out a search team for ya man.” The taller one of the two said and patted Steve's shoulder. “We´ve found another Nephilim and have them here in hell. We figured you wouldn’t want another angel to get hold of one again,” The shorter demon continued. “Excellent, Sam, James. I need you both to do something for me, but no one can ever know. I need you to find out whether Heaven uses memory wiping as a means to keep their angels sharp. Don´t ask my reasons, I just need an answer, preferably as soon as possible. And while you're on it, find me a Cupid.” Steve said and looked at his most trusted demons. He trusted them with his soul… Well, he would have, if he had one.

Sam and James looked at one another before they looked back to where their boss had been standing. He was nowhere to be seen and they both shrugged before they played a game of rock, paper, scissors, to see who would get what task. In the end, Sam came out victorious and got to go find a cupid, while James was stuck finding lore on heaven.

The king of hell made his way to the dungeons where he finds the Nephilim the demons had found. He made quick work of it and soon enough had the Nephilims heart in his hand. It was still beating. He reached up and wiped his face, not that it helped a lot as his hand was as bloody as his face. He chuckled to himself as he got the heart of the Nephilim into a secure box. He locked it and placed the key in his pocket. He heard the flap of wings and looked around seeing a white dove again. “Really?”Steve asked and sighed as he walked over to the sink to wash his hands, not wanting to get any blood on the bird. He washed his face just for the sake of it before he got over to the little dove.

Steve checked the dove for a note and found it in the same kind of pouch the previous message had come in. ´Thank you for coming to see me, and thank you for taking the time to answer my questions. I still have a lot of them, but I truly appreciate it.´ The note said and Steve actually smiled a bit at the sweetness of the angel who had sent it. “Somebody come get him, he´s smiling like a moron,” Sam said and he managed to startle the king of hell. “I understood that reference idiot. I really need to ban TikTok down here before James gets a hold of it. Where is he by the way? And why are you here?” Steve asked and frowned as he looked at one of his two right-hand men.

“Well, idiot 2 couldn’t just go knock knock knocking on heavens door now could he. Plus, you kinda messed up the wifi down here so he has to go through proper books, and you know how he is with reading, fucking useless.” Sam answered and shrugged as he crossed his arms. “Hey, language or I´ll have you help him,” Steve replied and gave Sam a stern look. Sam held his hands up in defeat. “Sorry, sorry, anyway, I found a cupid, but there's a problem… Well actually more like nine problems.” Sam said and shrugged. “Apparently there´s only one cupid working right now and seeing as we need the bow, he´s our only option.” He continued and looked at his boss. Steve just sighed. Couldn’t he catch a break someday, couldn’t things be easier? They had been quite lucky with the Nephilim though.

Sam stared at his boss. “I can get my best demons and get the cupid, it´s going to be bloody tough,” he said and frowned. For being a demon, Sam really didn’t like killing others, no matter who they were. He was a more peaceful soul, or whatever he had. Steve thought for a moment but shook his head. “No, I think we should go about it another way. I don’t think Y/N would approve… I don´t approve of that much bloodshed.” Steve said and he hoped Sam wouldn’t notice his stuttering. Sam just shrugged. “A´ight, what do you want to do about it then?” Sam asked and crossed his arms. “Wait… Is that one of Sofie´s white doves?” He asked and walked over to the table behind Steve.

Steve frowned a bit. “You know of these doves?” He asked Sam and looked to the dove. “Of course I do, what's more, interesting is why she´s here and what could her caretaker want to tell you,” Sam said and looked at Steve knowingly. “I´m not saying you have to tell me and James everything, but don’t think we´re stupid.” He explained.

“Okay okay, I went to see Y/N. She had some questions about the mission, which she doesn’t remember and she doesn´t really understand why.” Steve explained with a sigh. “You like her. The king of hell I know wouldn’t go that out of his way for just anyone.” Sam said and tilted his head. He was judgmental at all, but more surprised if anything. He wasn’t opposed to relationships between different species, or whatever you´d like to call them. He had been in one himself. “She´s different Sam. She might have judged me in the beginning, but she didn’t when I went to see her. She just wanted me to tell her what I could. There wasn’t any pressure. She didn’t even care that I was a demon. Not a lot at least.” Steve explained and sighed to himself. She was different to him. She wasn’t all good, but she had good intentions.

Sam chuckled to himself and looked up as he heard James arrive in the room. “What´s going on. What are we talking about? I found something on heaven,” James said and looked between the two of them. “What did you find, quickly,” Steve said and pulled out a chair. “Well not a lot, but it seems like they use some sort of wiping to reset their angels. The earliest record of a wipe is from over 2000 years ago. Apparently, the angel wanted it and Maria granted their wishes. Couldn’t find a name though, just that they apparently weren’t very successful considering it was the first one.” James started and shrugged. “I don’t know how they did it though, probably some cruel brain poking.” He continued and shrugged.

Steve sighed and nodded. “Alright, good to know. I need you two on the cupid, don’t go at him, just study him and the angels guarding him. We´ve done a lot of progress in the past few days. We can afford to take it easy for a while.” He said and looked at the two demons in front of him. He was tired in all honesty, and he wasn’t willing to kill a couple of angels for a cupid. That would start a war. Not that killing a cupid would be much better, but hell better one cupid, than one cupid and several angels.

~ Rowor~

Y/N spent most of her time with the Sofwalings, they kept her calm and enjoyed playing with her hair, mostly braiding it. Y/N didn´t mind, she didn’t mind at all. Her grace was glowing from all the affection and love she got from the species. This was what she lived for. Their love fed her.

The talk she had with Steve had brought up memories. Memories she had asked to be removed. Maria had failed her then. Y/N hoped it wouldn’t happen again, but the past times she had been wiped it had gone as Maria wished. Y/N couldn’t remember much. She didn’t know of her previous 10 missions. She did feel like something was off though. Something had changed from the time of her mission to now and she was felt quite uneasy about it.

She didn´t like change and this felt like a bad change. She knew she had to do something about it. She just wasn’t sure what she would do yet. Could she overthrow another god? Of course, she could, but she had given it to Maria for a reason, she had to have faith Maria would come through before the end. But what if Maria had gone corrupt? Wasn’t it then Y/Ns responsibility to handle it? Considering she had given the position to Maria.

A breeze went through her little coppice and she took a deep breath. Y/N was unsure as to who she could talk to. Her fellow angels were all faithful to heaven and would surely tell on her if she shared her suspicions. Steve was the king of hell, he would use what she told him against heaven and thereby against Y/N as well. Humans didn’t care and the Sofwas couldn’t do anything. No, she had to do this on her own. She had to shut down heaven, or at least shut down Maria.

She had to start planning and the first step would be to get an understanding of what was going on. For that, she would need Steve, no matter how much it angered her to think that. But before all that, she needed a drink or a million. Sure she couldn’t get drunk, but it tasted fine and Nat kept a good bootle for her. That one would come in handy when it came to convincing Steve to help her.

Y/N got her blade and carved the rune to Nat's bar into her hand. It didn’t hurt her at all and before she knew it she was standing in the middle of Nat's bar. “Hey, you really need to quit doing that or I´ll charge for fixing the floor again,” Nat said as she wiped down the bar. She was obviously thinking it was a demon coming into her bar. “Yes well I wouldn’t want to pay for another creature's damage, now would I?” Y/N asked and sat down by the bar with a smile.

“Bless my demon soul… She lives” Nat smirked and handed her a glass of some dark liquid. “Yeah, well I´m not entirely sure I would be able to bless your soul… I don’t think any force in the universe could,” Y/N said and smiled softly. She had always had a friendship based on insults with Natasha. Neither of them took offense though, which was what made it so beautiful to watch.

Nat got a shot for herself and clinked her glass to the one she had given Y/N. “What brings you here? Last I heard you were on bed rest.” Natasha frowned and studied the angel in front of her. “I was… I am… It´s all a bit confusing, but I need help. I don’t trust heaven right now. I need to get in contact with Steve… I need his demons,” Y/N said and glanced up at Natasha to watch her reaction, which was none.

“So you admit, you need me?” Y/N heard a deep voice from behind her and she chuckled softly. “Hey Mr. Hell, no I don’t need you in particular, but I need your demons. Or at least those who are good at infiltration. I know you have a few,” Y/N shrugged and turned around. “Any chance we can borrow your backroom, Nat?” She continued and looked over at the bar owner who just tossed her the keys to the backroom.

Steve followed her into the backroom and leaned against the table as he waited for Y/N to settle down. “I need you to infiltrate heaven and find out as much as you can about their plans. Something is going on and as the angel of peace I need to know I´m not headed into another war.” She explained and looked up at Steve. She wasn’t expecting Steve to agree straight away, at least not without any hooks.

He just nodded. “Alright, okay, we can do that. I… I asked one of my demons to look into what they did to you after your latest mission. He didn’t find anything and he doesn’t know anything, I was just curious and wo… yeah, just curious.” He said quietly and slowly, half hoping it would pass straight over her head.

“Ohh… well… I can´t help you there I´m afraid.” She sighed softly. She then frowned as she realized Steve hadn't asked for anything in return for his demons infiltrating heaven and it scared her. “I am an up-front deal, kind of person Steve, I don’t like hidden fees, so if there is anything you want, tell me.” Y/N said and looked at him with narrowed eyes. Steve laughed at her synonym and shook his head. “I don’t have any hidden agendas doll. I think you’ve been through enough, the least I can do is help you” He smiled and winked at her.

Y/N stood up and nodded. “Well thank you, Steve, I highly appreciate it!” She said and placed her hand on his arm as she passed by him to get back to the bar. “I also do it because I… I like you Y/N. There's something about you that speaks to me.” Steve said and looked over at Y/N. She was frozen in place. This couldn’t be happening, right? The king of hell? And her? An angel? Y/N turned her head to look at him. He looked her straight in the eyes, a sign of him telling the truth. She felt a tug in her chest and was tempted to reach up and feel at her chest for a wound, but she knew better. That was her heart twitching.

#Steve Rogers #steve rogers fanfiction #steve x reader #steve rogers x reader #avengers fanfiction #Avengers #Angel/Demon AU #fanfiction #fanfic #seapandoraswritings

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