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trippin-over-my-fandoms · 2 years ago

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The Prince of Shadows - Chapter Four

(images of Karl and Chris belong to this talented artist!)

AO3 version and previous chapters can be read here. Previous tumblr chapters can be read by checking the fic title hashtag at the end of the post.

Rating- T

Words- 1,736

Some implied Heisenfield here :3

None of this makes sense.

The light flicks on making Karl squint, his eyes straining against the computer light in the darkness making it hard to see now. “What are you doing in here?” Says a voice behind him.

Karl spins around in the desk chair. Chris. He doesn’t even bothering to make an attempt to hide what he was doing as he faces the other man, knowing Chris could have been standing there for ages before announcing himself. “I could ask you the same thing,” Karl huffs.

“You know all this is supposed to be for desk crew,” Chris folds his large arms across his chest, eyebrow arched and pointing at the spread of papers on the desk and computer tabs Karl has up, “You don’t have anything better to do?”

“Neither do you apparently,” Karl rolls his eyes. Nothing better to do than harass him.

Karl’s been holed up in the main planning room for the Hound Wolf Squad, the office space courtesy of the BSAA with it being on their grounds and all the tech a gift from Blue Umbrella. It’s a nice set up, Karl has never really appreciated it, let alone spent much time in it aside from briefings, but it is nice. He can work his way around a machine yet computers are a challenge and even he was able to access the records from the previous, botched, mission.

“Alright stop it. I’m the leader of this team, I got a right to be here. You’re being obsessive.” Chris fully enters the room, leaning over Karl to close out the computer and stack up the loose papers.

Karl sighs in defeat, trying not to be too broken up over Chris ruining hours of work. “No, I just want to know what happened.”

“And I told you yesterday when we got back, they moved it before we could move in.” Chris pulls up a chair from the planning table in the center of the room to sit opposite Karl, resting his elbows on his knees.

Karl didn’t trust that story then and he still doesn’t trust it now. It seems too easy, too convenient of a story. If it hadn’t come from Chris himself then he’d suspect a cover up. Well… more than he already does. “Nah. Something else. It was there and we knew it. Someone messed up.”

Chris sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose as if Karl’s incessancy is causing him a headache, “You’re such a control freak,” he growls.

“I’m doing my job,” Karl argues, “Yours too considering this was your op. You’re getting lazy.”

“I am not!” Chris sits straight upright at the accusation, anger drawn into the lines of his face. If they weren’t close Karl might think Chris would punch him. He still might.

Except it doesn’t matter to Karl whether or not he upsets Chris. He’s not about to stand by and let things go to shit at the sake of Chris’ feelings. “You took the job right? BSAA handed it to us and you just took them at their word? We should have done our own recon and made sure all of this was legit.”

“There’s no ‘we’ here, Karl. This is my team, you’re just part of it,” Chris’ voice is stern, no ounce of fondness for his friend and all anger towards an insubordinate employee, “Now I appreciate your input when I ask but that’s off the clock, alright? Me asking what you think is just dinner conversation.”

Karl is taken aback by his statement. Discarded to the side, just like that. Clearly they are very close. Not. “Well then you shouldn’t have gotten me involved,” he huffs.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have.”

The room falls silent. The only sound being the low humming of the computers running and the heating unit pumping air in. And the squeak of Karl’s chair when he moves to turn away from Chris, back to start his work again. Karl doesn’t need his approval. He’s his own person, no matter how many times he has to remind himself of that.

“Look, Karl, I’m sorry,” Chris sighs, placing his hand on Karl’s shoulder and spinning him back around. Despite his irritation with him, Karl allows it, “I don’t mean it like that, I’ll just stop involving you in team stuff when we’re not in the field. Alright?”

Karl looks at the floor, at the wall behind Chris, anywhere except at him directly, “I know that’s not how you meant it. It doesn’t matter- I still appreciate you trying. But this isn’t about me being obsessive or not having a hobby-“

“Which we still need to find you-“ Chris chuckles. Karl doesn’t reciprocate despite being the one to have set up the playful jab.

“Something about this just rubs me the wrong way. I don’t know what it is but it’s irritating the hell out of me,” Karl reaches behind him, goes to pick up some of the papers he’s printed out to show Chris. But Chris stops him, grabs his arms and holds them between the two of them.

“You trust me?” He asks, looking Karl in the eye now.

“Of course.” Karl nods,

“Then let me handle it-“ Chris slowly says every word like he’s making sure Karl hears each one and understands them.

“Chris-“

“No. Don’t. Let me handle it. I’ll let you know as soon as I hear anything. I promise. You’ll be the first I tell.” There’s so much sincerity in his eyes.

Karl can’t help but believe him.

“…Fine.”

“Thank you,” Chris smiles, “Now come on before you get in trouble.”

Karl rolls his eyes, scoffing as he and Chris both stand, not even bothering to return their chairs neatly, “What are they gonna do? Ground me? Lock me in my apartment?”

“You never know,” Chris shrugs, following behind Karl to make sure he leaves.

Karl looks back to him, questioning, “You really think they would? After all this time?”

Chris laughs, turning out the light as they exit into the central promenade of the BSAA compound, “You so much as sneeze and bend the Eiffel tower then you’re gonna find yourself in a windowless lab.” Coming from anyone else it would have been offensive, but Karl has always given Chris a pass.

Still, he only rolls his eyes at the dig, “Okay well for the record it takes more than just a sneeze for that. I’m not a child, I’ve got a handle on it.”

“Oh so it was possible once?” Chris elbows him, sending Karl slightly off balance and it reminds Karl of teenagers in the movies he’d see on TV growing up. Sometimes he wishes their lives were that simple.

“Alright enough,” Karl shoves him back but Chris doesn’t budge easily, “I wouldn’t do that you know it. I kinda like the fresh air, I wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize this freedom.” Maybe Karl is more sensitive about it than he thought.

Chris sensing the tension ends his teasing, “I know. I wouldn’t let them do that to you anyway.”

“I know. I trust you.” He truly does. Chris is the first person Karl ever truly trusted. The first person to make themselves trustworthy to him.

“Good. So quit looking over your shoulder like you’re thinking of going back in there.” Caught. Karl had been sending glances back to the door they’d just left and he wasn’t as slick as he thought he was.

“Fine, fine. I’ll stop,” Karl grins.

Karl’s apartment isn’t far from the compound. It’s still within walking distance and it’s less of an apartment than it is BSAA regulated housing for employees. Still, it beats a single room in an underground lab by miles.

“Do you want me to stay?” Chris asks while waiting on Karl to unlock the door. Chris lives on the other side of the complex, at least part time when he isn’t in Europe or some other country being a hero, but he still takes the time to make sure Karl gets home. Karl still doesn’t know if it’s because he’s just being nice or if he thinks he’s protecting him. He doesn’t mind it either way.

“I thought we talked about this already, Chris,” Karl sighs, knowing what he’s truly asking.

“I know but,” Chris seems reluctant.

Karl takes a deep breath, leaving his keys in the door and turning to face the taller man, “I’ve spent a lot of my time alone. A quiet apartment for a night isn’t going to kill me. What do you think I do when you can’t get away with staying? Besides, I thought we had an agreement.” He tries to sound as convincing as possible.

Now it’s Chris’ turn to look anywhere except Karl. He seems every bit the robotic soldier when he says, “You don’t want anything else-“

“I don’t know how to have anything else. And I don’t want you thinking you have to give that to me because you feel sorry for me.” Karl turns back around to get his door open, it’s too cold out to be having this conversation outdoors.

“And I already told you it’s not because I feel sorry for you,” Chris seems a bit too much like he’s pleading with Karl. And he’d believe that this was something Chris really wanted if he hadn’t convinced himself that it was in fact purely because he felt bad for Karl.

Karl would allow it if he felt even the slightest of an ounce human.

“Don’t care. You’ve got all the fiends in the world and instead you choose to babysit my ass,” Karl tries to spin it back around to jokes, standing in the doorway to prevent Chris from bullying his way in.

“I wouldn’t call it babysitting.”

“You’ve been babysitting me since they decided I was useful.”

They stare at each other in the dimness, the moonlight creating dark shadows over Chris’ face and the lone lit lamp inside Karl’s apartment illuminating him from behind. In this moment Karl wishes that powers beyond his own existed so he could wish them to be normal. In a different world they can exist without being a super soldier and a bioweapon on a leash.

“Just go home Chris,” Karl says quietly before all his regrets start to build up.

“Only if you promise you leave the mission alone.” Chris is serious, less sentimental. Good.

“Promise.”

“Thank you.”

#resident evil #Chris redfield #Karl Heisenberg #re8 #fanfic #heisenfield #Chris redfield x Karl Heisenberg #implied anyway #okay let’s be honest they got something in the past here #the prince of shadows

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welcometomy20s · 2 years ago

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March 8, 2023

Back when I was a baby, my mom would carry me through a climb up a mountain in my neighborhood, and both my mom and I have loved climbing ever since.

Once on a climb, my mom talked about her philosophy regarding climbing. She said that every step on a climb is a commitment to make that same step back down home.

Everytime I open my ‘third’ eye and start to head down the abyss of thoughts, I would have to remind myself that nothing useful would be done unless I head back out. I guess the same is true for drugs, taking the stuff is fine but you need to get back to the trailhead.

There is a story published in n+1 magazine called The Feminist by Tony Tulahimutte that basically describes a descent into the far right by supposed feminist, and it’s kind of a mystery trying to figure why someone would fall down that path, and the answer is pervasive, but it only glimpses in the forefront - it’s very beautifully constructed.

My glimpse to the answer comes with the protagonist’s interaction with his QPOC agender friend from his college co-op… which from his description tells us that he only thinks of them as a series of labels and not as an… person. His scenes with them always reminds me of those Daily Show routines, which have Jon, the everyman, interact with a correspondent of some ridiculous pursuit. It’s a gentle rib at the whole situation, but oddly perpetuates them.

Once you know the answer, the behavior pops right at you at the first paragraph. Someone had a crush on the protagonist and he rejected her because it wasn’t ‘his type’, not because she wasn’t compatible, or had no interest in common, but because of her body figure.

Right there, the predators are going ‘that’s the mark’. One of the fascinating things about the group I just mentioned is their fascination with aesthetics. They care what they come off as, rather than who they really are. Another thing, which the protagonist exhibits plenty and something I am preyed on far too often, is how he focuses heavily on his sensational experiences but rarely on others’. It’s as if, as with many things about these people including myself, I can’t stop thinking about myself… There is a new derogatory term called NPC, but I think a significant advantage of neurotypicals is that they can imagine themselves as NPC, as a non-player character in someone else’s story and somehow maneuver themselves around that.

In part, I understand his persuasions. My head lies in physics and mathematics after all and Leibinz’s law is strong there, the objects are defined by their properties, but real things can’t be defined that way simply because these properties change all the time. People grow, they adopt new styles and attitudes, and yet they are still one. People are narratives, which are unconstrained by rigid properties… In fact, narratives only exist in hindsight in reality.

Reading that story again makes me downright uncomfortable, and also deeply more relatable, which adds to the horrifying feeling. I feel like I am being comfortable in my loneliness… and I notice people leaving me behind, but most importantly there is a rekindling of the deep fear that I have, my lack of empathy… but it’s not really empathy, but something more than that.

So why? Can we save him? The story deliberately starts out in high school, where he is already far too gone. You might notice a rise in autism in the recent decades, and there have been very bad explanations about this, but in actuality there is a social cause. We think complexly to understand ourselves and our place in the world, but starting in the late 70’s, there was a thought in leading institutions that we had solved everything and therefore introspection and outro-spection was not necessarily, the goal was efficiency not finding the goal.

As Thatcher said, there are no alternatives. This was the solution, and any attempt to think otherwise would be a waste of time. Humans need not apply, but not the reason it was originally said. We still needed Homo Sapiens, AI was still in infancy and there are many challenges that still need to be overcome and some that can’t, but they didn’t need to be humans.

So humans were made… lean. They still processed like humans, they could empathize, they were intelligent, but they were left off of thinking complexly, trying to understand his place in the world, so they were easy to manipulate into tools of the state, or go rogue in some cases.

#personal #feminism?#society

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lovelessrage · 2 months ago

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[Image ID: A screenshot of Tumblr tags that reads:

#Not sure if this is what the post is about but I do see a lot of young aros talking about #how they hate it when their friends even mention romance #To the point that they check out or say disparaging things #and I have to hold myself back from explaining that its not arophobia or amatonormativity #that is causing their friends to not want to see them while dating #it's the consistent lack of interest and even rude remarks about something really really important to them #and now its a major part of their life so of course they won't want you there to be bored or cruel #you wouldn't want to invite your friend who rolls their eyes every time you talk about your favorite shows to fan expo #And you really wouldn't want them to come and make faces the whole time #this is no different #if you want your friends to stick around you have to show them that you want them to share the things they care about with you #whether or not you personally care about those things #Sorry for rambling in the tags op I've just been thinking about this a lot and your post reminded me of that lol

/End ID.]

It wasn't specifically about this, but it is definitely a facet of it. I was more thinking about how it goes from "i feel lonely because my friends don't hang out with me as often" to "my friends are stupid for caring about their partners more than me" to "i should be their only priority and the fact they would reject me like this is proof they're horrible and vile and all allos are like this". I often see a sentiment of intense jealousy and hatred for the people their friends care about and an uncommunicated desire to want to be the chosen one. It very much gives "why do they always go for assholes that'll break their heart and not nice guys like me?" at the end of the pipeline, even if the beginning feeling is perfectly normal. It's the radicalization of loneliness into actively villainizing your friends for having a life outside of you or acting like it is an affront that you are not the only person they care about/an outright hatred of romantic relationships in general due to it. It's the uncomfortable and unhealthy clinginess and possessiveness over your friends and need to have some level of control what they do outside of you. It's immensely toxic. Again, this is the End of a pipeline. If you're lonely and upset and want to express, this isn't about you. This is about upset becoming malice or possessive obsession.

But yes, this is ABSOLUTELY a reason a chunk of people are lonely. They see the need to express themself in any way they like as being more valuable than the feelings of others; sometimes you need to keep it to yourself. And yes, it can be immensely hurtful to be told to stop talking about something/someone you love. I hate having to use a hypothetical "what if it was you" to make people understand, but imagine being told to shut up about your friends or your family or your pets or having someine constantly grumble and roll their eyes at you when you're happy about them. That's hurtful! There are plenty of hobbies people I know have that I just don't want to hear about, it's not like you can never set boundaries. But if you're rude about it and inconsiderate, yeah, it'll happen. And yes, setting a boundary is not wholly neutral; if they can't talk about it with you, they are more likely to go somewhere else to discuss it. That's how it goes, and it can feel like you're being discarded, but it's just a fact of life that if you have said no, and they still want to discuss it, they are likely going to find someone who is up for the conversation outside of you.

If you're hating on someone's partner and they hang out with their partner often, you're likely not going to be invited all the time anymore.

The post I have in the works is still likely at least a month/multiple months away. I want to delve into the phenomenon I see of platonic, incel-adjacent behaviours in aro spaces and why aro loneliness can turn vitriolic but gosh it's just such a big Cloud of Talking Points right now. I want to do it justice and I want it to be coming from a place of conversation and concern, not judgement. It means it'll need time to cook and set because the topic is so delicate half baked just isn't good enough. Possessiveness and toxic friendship is becoming an issue for primarily online aspecs [although it's also an issue irl because these are often irl friends being discussed, it's just using the internet as a breeding ground] and it gets reinforced a lot as fine or normal when it isn't; your feelings of betrayal and isolation are normal, how you act on them or apply them isn't. That's kinda the point I want to strike. Delving into the pipeline of rejection to hatred as carefully as possible to really peel back that onion.

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blueberry-boy124 · 3 years ago

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Just some trans related reminders

• You never know a trans persons sexuality so don’t assume who they’re attracted to, there’s a lot of people that asume, for example (something that’s happened to me as a trans masc) that I am attracted to woman because I’m a ‘confused lesbian who thinks she’s a man’, or people asume I’m attracted to men because “I’m technically a girl”, just stop making assumptions about people

• on that topic, if you asume that a trans guy is a bottom in a mlm relationship just because they’re trans (“but you don’t have a ___ you have a ___ so how would you top-“ stfu) or cause they ‘seem/look more feminine’. don’t talk to me, stop doing that, cause wether they bottom or not is non or your fucking business (like who cares just let people do their thing), even if you were “just joking”

There are trans who joke or talk about being a bottom with each other and that’s okay as long as they first ask the other trans person if they’re comfortable with that sort of thing (if they say they’re not, respect their boundaries). But if you’re cis, just don’t. Don’t talk about that, like if some trans mascs are joking around about it and you (a cis person) start joining in- you’re ruining the moment, it makes a lot of us uncomfortable. (It’s like when queer people joke around and refer to themselves with the f slur, they can do it with each other (if you’re straight, obv don’t say things like this-it does fall into the slur category for a reason) the respect that, same thing applies to the t word. If you’re trans and can say it, you can refer yourself as that, but don’t use it to refer to another trans person, if you don’t know if they’ll be comfortable with it, so just like quickly ask.

• Also, remember to call people out when they say these things and tell them that they shouldn’t be saying these things. Even if you’re part of the lgbtq community, being part of it doesn’t give you a pass to do/say transphobic things, just because someone says they’re part of the community or that they’re an ally doesn’t automatically mean they’re not transphobic.

•Also stop the whole ‘lesbians don’t like dick’ ��gay men are only into __ not, idk, breasts’. ‘Straight woman aren’t into __’ Someone’s sexuality isn’t being attracted to certain parts, it’s toward a certain gender/person, for example, if a cis woman is into a trans masc even if he’s pre op, she’s still straight. Saying she’s not and that she’s, for example, a lesbian, because of they guys parts, is transphobic.

• The two things I mentioned at first are commonly used by transphobes, but also people who say they’re supportive, so I’m here to tell y’all that if you consider yourself and ally and you do this, and ever after reading it you think “well I don’t see how doing this is wrong, I’ll keep doing it” and you keep making assumptions and jokes you shouldn’t be saying because you are cis even though trans people say they’re uncomfortable (especially about the second one), stop calling yourself and ally and reconsider where you actually stand on this.

#this was supposed to be shorter but I kinda started to rant #trans ftm #ftm pride #ftm mlm #ftm positivity #trans positivity #trans #transgender #transmasc #trans guy #trans masc positivity #lgbt pride #lgbtq #lgbtq community #trans pride #gay ftm

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moralesispunk · 4 years ago

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How they tell you they love you

This ended up quite long so I do apologise!

Including: Frankie, Din, Marcus M, Javier, Whiskey, Dave, Ezra, Oberyn and Marcus P

Frankie -

Frankie had known that he was in love with you for a while before he said anything. He had been avoiding relationships - working in the Special Ops wasn’t exactly the easiest job for maintaining one - and that’s why when he met you he tried his hardest to stop himself from falling for you, even though he knew he was. He knew it every time he looked in your eyes, or watched you smile, or heard your voice when you answered the phone. In a few weeks time he would have to go away for a couple of months for work and he would only be able to talk to you through emails whenever he got access to the computer. You had told him that you didn’t want to finish what you had just because he was going away but he couldn’t help the fears that were taking over his whole body. What if you realised you didn’t actually like him when he was away? What if you met someone who you better deserved? What if he scared you off when he came home and had to deal with the nightmares that were always worse when he got back?

That night, as he kissed you good night and felt you fall asleep in his arms, the fears took over once again. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to calm his breathing but the thoughts wouldn’t stop. You stirred in his arms and he opened his eyes to look down at you and suddenly all his thoughts were silenced. He watched the way your eyebrows were furrowed and he wondered what you were dreaming about. He knew in this moment he had to tell you before he got scared again. He gently shook you awake, watching as you opened your eyes, searching until you found his. “Frankie, honey, everything okay?” you asked in your sleepy voice as your propped yourself up on your elbow to look at him. “Everything’s fine. I just- I just had to tell you something,” he said, turning so he was now fully facing you, “I love you”. He watched as a sleepy smile took over your face and how you slowly leaned in to give him a kiss. You pulled away just enough to look in his eyes, “I love you, Frankie”. He couldn’t stop the smile that took over his face as he pulled you back into his arms for you both to fall asleep knowing that he didn’t have to worry anymore.

Din -

Din showed and said he loved in other ways a long time before he actually said those three words. It started with him helping you out, sitting with you and helping while you sorted out the compartments of the Crest to make it more organised. It then moved to taking any excuse to touch you in someway, brushing his hand over your arm as he reached by you for something or letting your hands touch as you walked next to each other. Eventually, one day in the cantina he sat his hand on your leg as you eat your food before moving his arm around your shoulder when other men leered over you.

When the Kid is taken by Moff Gideon, you are part of the team that are on the rescue mission. When travelling to Moff’s cruiser, Din is planning for any outcome. While he wanted to be sure that everything would go fine - he would get the Kid and the Clan of Three would be reunited - anything could go wrong. He watched as you took apart and cleaned your blaster, trying to distract yourself from what was about to happen. He knew he loved you. He knew that was the word for what he was feeling. It wasn’t just care, it wasn’t just friendship, it was a love that filled his whole body with warmth and a feeling of security he had never felt before. You were his home. He moved to sit next to you, slowly taking your hand in his. You looked up to him, giving his hand a squeeze, “we’re going to get him back”. He looked down at you, the confidence in your eyes making him believe wholeheartedly for the first time that you would get him back with no problem. “I love you”. He said it plainly and simply and as he squeezed your hands watched the smile that broke onto your face, “I love you, Din,” whispering his name so no one else would hear.

Marcus M -

Marcus showed you he loved you before telling you through the trust he had for you. He trusted introducing you to Missy. He trusted letting you pick her up from school that time he was running late. He trusted letting you into his heart, the first person he let inside in years.

You and Marcus were meant to have a day to yourselves today while Missy was over at a friends but just as you arrived at their house, Marcus got a call saying Missy’s friend was sick and they would have to cancel. Marcus had told you she had been looking forward to this all week and you could see the look of disappointment in her face. You remembered the science museum you drove by on the way here and decided to offer an idea, “why don’t we all go there today?” Missy turned to her Dad, a massive smile on her face, “can we Dad?” Marcus nods and looks at you, mouthing a thank you. You all pile into his car and drive to the museum. It’s still early enough so you get in quickly and let Missy lead the way. You all stop and read the signs, interacting with everything you can. It reminds you of the science centre you used to go to when you were younger and you can’t stop smiling as you watch Missy run from exhibit to exhibit. Missy grabs your hand to take you over to something she wants to show you and when you both walk away she doesn’t let go. The two of you walk about hand in hand as Marcus walks behind, his heart swelling with how well you both get on. The last stop is the planetarium - where Marcus watches you and Missy more than he looks up at the stars surrounding you. He knows in this moment he wants to tell you how much he loves you. On the drive home, Missy falls asleep in the back of the car and he turns to you. He reaches over and takes your hand in his, watching you turn and smile at him. Before he can stop himself he whispers an “I love you” and watches as your eyes go wide before you smile, squeezing his hand, “I love you, Marcus”.

Javier

It will take a while for Javier to find the actual words. It took long enough for him to allow himself to act on his attraction for you, knowing himself that it was more than just a physical attraction. While you understood, knowing that the only other real relationship he had in his past didn’t exactly end well, you thought by now there would maybe be a little more. He would come by your apartment after it was dark and would leave before the sun came up. He would flirt with you the same way he flirted with the other women in the office (so not to let anyone find out you were together - or as together as you were).

This morning, he woke early as usual and began to get dressed. He tried not to wake you from your sleep, knowing you still had at least another hour before you would have to get up. The sound of dropping his keys woke you, causing you to sit up. “Javier, come back to bed. Why don’t we just go in together,” you said in your sleepy voice. “You know why,” he said, sitting at the edge of the bed. He traced up your leg and side gently, before leaning down for a kiss that you turned away from. He sighed, standing and putting his jacket on before walking out.

Knowing that you wouldn’t get back to sleep you decided to get ready and head in to work earlier than usual. When you arrived, the sun still wasn’t fully up but the place was busy with bodies moving about quickly. Messina called you into her office, asking you to go on a simple operation to where they got a tip El Leon was. You noticed Javi wasn’t in yet and so you and Murphy went together. It was anything but simple and very quickly it went south, resulting in a shot to your shoulder. It wasn’t too bad and was quickly fixed at the closest hospital. Just as the doctor was finishing up stitches, a frantic Javi bursts into the hospital. You can see him from the other side of the hall, watching as his eyes search quickly for any sign of you. Once his eyes meet yours he lets out a breath that he didn’t realise he had been holding in and quickly made his way towards you. The doctor was just walking away as Javi reached you, taking your face in his hands. You let him check you for injuries knowing he wouldn’t stop until he had, noticing the pain that flashed across his face when he seen your shoulder. He took your face back in his hands and gave you a gentle kiss, softer than any shared between you before. “I’m sorry, for everything,” he sighed, “I have to stop being so scared... I- I love you”. You placed your hands over his, “I love you, too, Javier”.

Whiskey

You and Whiskey had been getting on well, having been on more than a few dates by now. You knew you were falling for him and felt that he was feeling the same way in the way his eyes followed you, how he smiled lazily at you in the morning or how he lingered just for a moment every time he had to leave like there was something else to be said.

However, that started to change. He started to become more distant. You worried it was something that you had done wrong, or that you had looked into his actions more than was really there. In truth, it was because Whiskey was scared. The last woman he had loved had been ripped from his life and took him years to get over. He didn’t want to feel that ever again and his job made sure anyone who was close to him was at potential risk. One night, when he was having dinner at yours, you decided to ask him about it. “What? There’s nothing wrong,” he dismissed, asking you a question about work instead. “No, there is something wrong. Tell me,” you pressed. “I- I just can’t see someone else I love be hurt. I can’t let myself get close to someone like that again be taken from me,” he sighs, too caught up in his own thoughts to realise what he really said. “Someone else you what?” you whispered. His eyes widened, realising he had said the word out loud for the first time. He stood and moved round to sit next to you, taking your hands in his. “I love you,” he said, “but I don’t want anything to happen to you and that’s why I’ve been so... distant lately”. You took his face in your hands, “I love you, and nothing is going to happen to me. I’ve got the best cowboy-agent in the world as by boyfriend”.

Dave

Dave would be among the most confident in telling you about his feelings. As soon as he knew that what he was feeling for you was love he would let the words fall out of his mouth with ease.

It would be one morning as you were making breakfast, dancing about quietly thinking he was in the shower. He watches as his shirt from the night before hangs around you, looking better on you than it did on him. He smiles as you turn the radio up, singing along a little louder when one of your favourite song comes on. “Didn’t know I was getting breakfast and a show,” he interrupts. You turn around, placing your hand on your chest, “Jesus, Dave! You almost gave me a heart attack,” you scold as he chuckles, walking towards you now. “Tell me how you look better in that shirt than I do,” he hums as he wraps his arms around your waist, placing his head on your shoulder while you carry on with breakfast. You smile, turning your head to press a kiss to his lips. He knows right now how he feels and he lets the words fall out of his mouth, “I love you”. He kisses the back of your neck gently as you turn your head to meet his lips for a kiss, “and I love you, Dave”.

Oberyn

The Prince’s Garden had become you and Oberyn’s perfect place for some peace and quiet. You could just walk around the garden, holding hands in silence or quietly talking about whatever popped into your minds.

On this particular day, the sun was out and shining, making all the flowers stand a little taller. You hadn’t been talking much, enjoying the presence of one another enough for now. Every so often, he would squeeze your hand, pulling you slightly closer to steal a kiss, before continuing around the garden. You both eventually stop, sitting by the bench where you first met. You had found a poem that day that you wanted to read to him, taking it out of the book you had been carrying around. He watched you in absolute adoration, listening to every word that rolled off your tongue with such beauty and how your voice changed slightly when you smiled at the words. When you finished, you asked him what he thought. “It was beautiful. But not as beautiful as the person who read it,” he replies, making you blush. “Oberyn, you’re too kind,” you say back, reaching for his hand to squeeze gently. “I should be kind to the person I love,” he replies. Your eyes widen and as you try to find the words he turns his body to face you completely, “I love you,” he says with a smile.

Ezra -

Ezra would have no problem telling you he loved you the minute he knew that is what he was feeling. He watches and notices how the sun changes the colour of your eyes slightly, the way the side of your eyes crinkle a little as you squint from the bright light, your hum of contentment as it warms your skin.

He feels his love for you warm his body, running through his chest and spreading everywhere else. He takes your hand in his and tells you just that, “you warm me more than the sun, hold more beauty than the moon, carry more sparkle in your eyes than the stars. I love you, little bird, and I will shout it so the sun, moon and stars and everyone else hears what I have to say”. When you tell him that you love him too he pulls you close to his chest, promising to never let you go.

Marcus P

You have been looking forward to a night in with Marcus all week. You have both been busy with work and today is the first in a while you get to relax together so planned to get some takeout and find a film to watch at his place.

When you arrive, Marcus has the menu for your favourite takeout place sitting out on the table, telling you he was having a look to see what he wanted. You smile at the thoughtfulness, knowing you probably only mentioned it was your favourite once or twice before. When the food arrives, Marcus lets you choose the film, deciding on one you told him about the other night he had never seen before. He ends up spending more time watching you than the film, noticing when you smile or try and hide your tears. At the end of the film you turn to ask him how he enjoyed it but instead he leans in, giving you the most passionate kiss, before breaking away and breathlessly telling you he loves you.

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canary3d-obsessed · 4 years ago

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Restless Rewatch: The Untamed Episode 21, second part

(Masterpost) (Other Canary Stuff) (Previous Post)

Warning: Spoilers for All 50 Episodes!

Flute Solo

For some reason Wei Wuxian has decided to take a walk outside of the fortress, or behind the fortress, or something? Can people just take a stroll outside during wartime? Seems unwise.

There are guards and these extra-bossy crows herding some Wen prisoners along, and Wei Wuxian stands up above and gets totally overwhelmed by resentful energy.

He falls to one knee while clutching his chest, in the spot where all cultivators seem to stow a bag of holding. I guess this is the Xuanwu sword? Or maybe it's his surgical incision; those things can take a while to finish healing. I think the golden core is further down in the abdomen, though; this is right over his heart.

Wen Qing, Granny, and Fourth Uncle are in the group, but Wen Qing has her hood up so Wei Wuxian can't see her, and he's unlikely to remember the other two, since he only saw them that one time at the shrine, and he doesn't remember people he's literally had dinner with.

The guards decide to be assholes and beat the shit out of a prisoner because he fell down, which inspires some extra aggressive crows to swoop in and attack the not-dead guy on the ground. That is...not how carrion-eaters behave, generally. They're pretty good about waiting for you to stop moving.

Wei Wuxian continues to struggle, obviously having an orgasm in a lot of pain, and starting to leak resentful energy.

(more after the cut)

He brings his flute up and starts playing it, which causes the wind to rise, rocks to fall from a nearby cliff, and the whole group of people on the ground under him to start having Yin Iron lines crawling up their faces.

Would Wen Qing be a beautiful fierce corpse? She would.

Eventually Wei Wuxian stops torturing everybody, having gotten it out of his system for a bit, and stands up. The group gets up, skin clearing up, and starts moving along again, a little shook. Wen Qing looks up and sees Wei Wuxian and hides her face in anguish.

She was there in the dungeon, listening to the same flute music, when he was resentfully slaughtering everyone around her in Yiling. Does she understand what she’s seeing, what he’s become?

Her hood is off and it seems that he sees her, or at least that he is trying to figure out what he's seeing. But Jiang Yanli arrives before he can do more than look puzzled and cast his eyes around.

Jiang Yanli asks him what just happened and he laughs and says it was the strong wind, in an extremely transparent lie that Yanli nearly chokes trying to swallow. She drags him back to the meeting while he continues to look troubled.

War Council

Meanwhile, the war council is meeting. This is mostly a boring rehash of stuff we already know, but someone has drawn a nice big map that's been installed in a custom frame. Because apparently the table with the mountains on it is not a good enough representation of "and then we will walk from our house to Wen Ruohan's house," which is basically their plan. The gist of this scene is that Wen Ruohan having the Yin Iron gives him an advantage, in case we needed to be reminded of that.

The doors fly open and Wei Wuxian and his fabulous ass literally blow into the room.

Everyone reacts in a comically extreme way.

He casts his eyes malevolently and/or sexily over to Lan Wangji, who is still grumpy with him, while Jiang Cheng comes up and stands almost as close to him as Lan Wangji used to.

He tells everybody that he might have something to counteract the yin iron.

Everybody: Really? Do tell!

Wei Wuxian: Happy to!

Wei Wuxian: *theatrical side-eye at judgy ex boyfriend*

Wei Wuxian: Actually, nope.

He says "we'll see in about a month" while fondling whatever is hidden next to his ribcage.

This behavior, while ridiculous, isn't quite as absurd as it seems from a corporate-meeting standpoint. Part of what cultivators do is invent and refine spiritual tools. So when Wei Wuxian makes this speech, the people in the meeting are going to infer that he is creating a spiritual tool to counter the Yin Iron.

Now it's Lan Xichen's turn to ask everybody’s favorite question. Lan Xichen wasn’t at the party when everyone else asked him, and we're apparently supposed to believe these gossips haven't been talking about the not-sword-carrying 24x7.

Wei Wuxian says he's just not in the mood, and we get to see Lan Xichen's impressive ability to hold his face completely still while he represses his desire to slap someone.

Jin Zixun complains about Wei Wuxian after he leaves, but for once his bitching is on point; he correctly surmises that the counter to yin iron is...yin iron.

Now, to be fair, the yin tiger amulet is different from the yin iron because it exists in the novel Wei Wuxian specially refines it to be more manageable than the sword it started from. And maybe it’s gel coated to be easier on the stomach. But it's basically the same shit.

Lan Xichen and Nie Mingjue exchange intense gazes, just to prove that the young people aren’t the only ones who know how to eye fuck.

Lying Is Forbidden

Lan Xichen talks to Lan Wangji, and we discover that Lan Wangji is perfectly capable of lying. He manages to maintain a reputation for not lying but I think the trick is that he just avoids talking in general, so when, for example, people in later years say "who's your masked boyfriend" he just doesn't answer, which isn't really lying. (How many times did Lan Qiren and Lan Xichen ask “where did you get this kid?” and just not get an answer, I wonder.)

At other times he actually directly lies, as when he claims he is “just passing through” Yiling on a night hunt. The current conversation with Lan Xichen definitely involves actual lying.

Let's play multiple choice answers with the Lan brothers!

Q: Why is WWX so confident we can have Yin Iron against WRH in a month?

a.) Because he's been walking around with that Xuanwu sword for months, and it is obviously made of Yin iron b.) because he used a fucking ghost flute to flay Wen Chao more or less in front of me, so he is clearly down with some dark magics c.) I don’t know

Q: Was the death of people in the Yiling supervisory office really related to yin iron?

a.) obviously b.) maybe he was using some other source of overwhelming necromantic power c.) no, he’s not like that

Q. When you approached Yiling, was there anything unusual?

a.) yes, the talismans had been altered to draw in evil spirits b.) yes, everyone except his particular friend Wen Qing had killed themselves in horrifying, outlandish ways c.) are there rules already set for everything in the world?

Xichen, bless him, actually lets Lan Wangji change the subject like that and answers his question honestly.

Xichen: Actually, rules are pretty much shit Wangji: fucking hell, you're telling me this NOW? What have I been doing for the past 18 years then?

They both look just ridiculously beautiful in this conversation. Lan Wangji’s affect with his brother is so interesting. He’s trusting, emotionally open, willing to be seen...but only because he knows Lan Xichen won’t push past his barriers, won’t force him to speak the truth of what’s on his mind.

Awkwardness

The Yunmeng bros roll up, and awkwardness ensues.

Wangji is frowning hard. His frowns are of the micro variety just like his smiles, but boy they are consistent and Wei Wuxian and Xichen both know how to read them.

Wei Wuxian gives Lan Xichen a small, sunny smile--it seems genuine, not like the fake ones he's trotting out on demand for his family.

Then he gives Lan Wangji a pointed gaze of yearning and reproachfulness, which Lan Wangji returns, switching from frowning to a softer expression that seems about equal parts hurt, apology, and thirst.

Wei Wuxian reacts to that by bowing again and leaving, with Jiang Cheng quickly following, wondering what the fuck just happened.

Lans Xichen and Wangji pivot gracefully to watch them go, which Lan Wangji should know is not correct post-breakup behavior; you're supposed to act disinterested, my dude.

And then Lan Xichen asks Lan Wangji what the fuck is going on. Lan Wangji gets one more lie in, saying he's not worried about Wei Wuxian, before reapplying his frown and walking away from the conversation.

Macroexpression Brothers

OP was wrong about Wei Wuxian not hugging Jiang Cheng any more--here he is hanging on him just like the old days, and Jiang Cheng is shoving him off, just like the old days. However, it emerges that this is mostly an act that WWX is putting on to seem normal.

Jiang Cheng wants to know what's wrong between him and Lan Wangji, and asks why they broke up. Wei Wuxian points out that Jiang Cheng didn't like him dating Lan Wangji before, so why is he pushing him to get back together with him now, and Jiang Cheng says that now they're allies in a war, so Wei Wuxian needs to do his duty and help keep Lan Wangji in fighting trim, nudge nudge.

Then he starts lecturing Wei Wuxian about sword cultivation and generally good behavior, and Wei Wuxian theatrically nods and give him appraising looks, telling him he really seems like a clan leader now.

Jiang Cheng headshakes this away. Wei Wuxian actually giving Jiang Cheng a sincere compliment here, disguised as teasing, and he's not wrong. Jiang Cheng has matured and is becoming a strong leader. Not strong enough to ignore peer pressure, but that’s true of most clan leaders in this environment. They’re not supposed to ignore peer pressure.

Wei Wuxian is pointing it out for his own reasons - he doesn't want to be having this conversation - but it's nice to see him giving his clan leader his due.

Jiang Cheng walks away as Wei Wuxian smiles after him; as soon as he's out of sight the smile falls off of Wei Wuxian's face as fast as fast as gravity can take it. It's like someone snuffed a candle.

No one bites back as hard On their anger None of my pain and woe Can show through

But my dreams, they aren't as empty As my conscience seems to be I have hours, only lonely My love is vengeance that's never free

More Awkwardness

Lan Wangji and his ambivalence come looking for Wei Wuxian, standing outside his door and raising a hand to knock before changing his mind and fleeing.

Lan Wangji is on the back foot for the first time in his relationship with Wei Wuxian; this boy who pursued and pursued and PURSUED him is now a man who won't speak to him. This boy who hung on every one of his words, and saw through all of his minute facial expressions, has become a man who won't listen to him. Lan Wangji is in the position of pursuer, now, and it's not a role he's well equipped for.

Yanli stops him as he's bailing. He looks so relieved to see her, but he tries to escape immediately after greeting her. She stops him so she can ask what the fuck is going on.

Unfortunately, Wei Wuxian rolls up while Lan Wangji is in the middle of talking to her. He's telling her about the heterodox cultivation, and Wei Wuxian busts him. Wei Wuxian steps up and asks what he was telling her, and Lan Wangji says "Wei Ying," but doesn't get much further than that.

Nunya

Wei Wuxian reminds him that he told him to stay out of Jiang Clan business. Now, here I want to mention that "private" and "not your bidness" are culturally specific concepts. OP, for example, grew up in version of Irish-American culture so secretive that the problems of a person's life and (often) the cause of their death are things only discovered by whoever inherits their papers. [OP inherited 3 generations of letters a few years ago, and HOO BOY]

In the version of Chinese culture which we see in this drama, your choices, thoughts & troubles belong to the family and clan, not just to you. Wei Wuxian, in shutting his elder sister out of his struggles, is not family-ing correctly. Jiang Yanli is right to try to get around that by asking his friend. His friend is also right to give her--in sanitized form--the information she is asking for.

Wei Wuxian has zero trust in Lan Wangji at this point, unfortunately. He doesn’t know that Lan Wangji has been lying to cover for him; he just knows he’s being a grumpy aggressive holy roller. Now, when Lan Wangji has just been given permission to disregard all 3000 rules and look at a person’s heart, that person’s heart has been hardened against him.

Yanli is used to dealing with Wei Wuxian's moods at this point -- after all, a lifetime of Jiang Cheng has got her used to volatile little brothers, and Wei Wuxian is clearly a new, not-improved man since his return.

She tries to get him to chill out while Lan Wangji gives him a death glare -- not a return to the earlier generalized frown, more of a specific "I can't believe how full of shit you are" frown.

Wei Wuxian calls him Lan Er Gongzi, like a dick. Lan Wangji started this but at this point Wei Wuxian is kind of in the lead for who is being The Worst. Lan Wangji executes a beautiful 180 and walks away at top speed.

Wei Wuxian asks Yanli if he talked about Yiling and when she says he didn't, he realizes he fucked up.

He goes running after him and calls him Lan Zhan and says "listen to me" but Lan Wangji is no longer in a listening mood.

Eat A Dick Sword

Lan Wangji is so far in his feelings at this point that he just hauls out his sword and goes after Wei Wuxian, taking complete control of the interaction and forcing Wei Wuxian to concede the fight. Aww, he’s so angry! I love him.

This is a rough moment for Wei Wuxian. He really genuinely can't hold his own against Lan Wangji, unless he's going to directly use necromancy against him the way he does later in their final confrontation.

When they first met he was able to defend himself on the rooftop without drawing his sword, but he's weaker now; Chenqing is an adequate hand weapon against most cultivators and puppets, but it's not a match for Lan Wangji's full attack.

Wei Wuxian is not enjoying this fight, and can’t win in, so he just throws in the towel, exposing his throat and trusting Lan Wangji's control.

On the surface, this fight appears to re-establish their former rapport, but it puts them on such an uneven footing it might actually drive a larger wedge between them. I think that Lan Wangji has made a strategic error in doing this.

Lan Wangji seems to want to prove to Wei Wuxian that his new style of cultivation is inadequate, that he would do better with a sword. Swordplay was the beginning of their relationship; their matched power was the source of their mutual attraction. Lan Wangji can't accept that Wei Wuxian has given it up; he doesn't (yet) respect his agency enough to assume that he has a good reason.

This fight functions as yet another punishment that Lan Wangji doles out to Wei Wuxian; not a physical one, this time, but a psychological one, and their relationship pays the price.

By attacking Wei Wuxian and forcing him to concede, Lan Wangji is showing that they're unequal. By criticizing Wei Wuxian's lack of progress and asking him the same goddamn question everybody else is asking him -- where is your sword? -- Lan Wangji is humiliating him.

This encounter does not re-establish Wei Wuxian’s trust in him; it just forces him to accept Lan Wangji’s authority, for now. Which is not what either of them really wants.

Soundtrack: Behind Blue Eyes, by The Who

Writing Prompt: What would Wei Wuxian have said if Lan Wangji had listened to him instead of drawing his sword?

#the untamed #the untamed gifs #wangxian #the untamed meta #cql #restless rewatch the untamed #canary3d-original #my gifs #2810 word count

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drabbles-mc · 4 years ago

Text

Exceptions (2/2)

Juice Ortiz x F!Reader

Part 1

Warnings: language, mentions of alcohol, light angst/jealousy

Word Count: 2.8k

A/N: Part 2! I’ve re-read this a million times and I’ve gone back and forth on whether I’m happy with it or not lol. But it’s hard to be too upset with a happy Juice haha. Hope you guys enjoyed this! Been a while since I set out to do a quick multi-part story that doesn’t go on indefinitely haha.

Join my group-chat here: (X)

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There was some sort of shift after that night between you and Juice. He always hung around the bar when you worked, but lately he made a point to really check in with you throughout the night. Truthfully, you’d gotten used to it and it had become a part of what felt like your nightly routine, not that you would ever admit that to anyone. But his presence felt much more purposeful than before. You wondered if it was obvious just to you but Opie had pulled you aside at one point to check and make sure that Juice wasn’t bothering you at all, which confirmed your belief that it was more than a little obvious.

“I’ll tell him to leave you alone, you know,” his voice was rough but there was a hint of a smile on his face.

You laughed, shaking your head, “No, no. Don’t. It’s fine, Ope, really. He’s being…sweet.”

The amused grin on his face grew a little wider, “You feelin’ alright?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You actually don’t mind one of the guys hanging around you all the time? That…doesn’t sound right.”

You gave him a light, playful slap to the chest, “Shut up.”

He noticed the way that you weren’t meeting his eyes and he was eating up every second of it, “Want me to tell him to come over more?”

“Opie, I swear to god,” you tried to sound serious but you were too busy laughing, “if you don’t let this drop I’ll—”

“Alright, alright,” he chuckled, “I’ll stop. I’m just saying, though.”

“Mhm,” you gave him a shove, “Now get out from behind my bar.”

Opie laughed as he walked away to join the rest of the guys, pulling Lyla onto his lap once he sat down. He motioned for her to lean closer and even though you couldn’t hear what he was saying to her, you could tell by the way she flashed a quick smile over at you that he was talking to her about the exact thing he said that he’d drop. You knew that neither of them would stick their nose into it in a way that mattered, but you knew you were going to catch grief from them about it nonetheless.

You forced yourself to focus on your job. You mixed drinks and popped caps off of beer bottles as everyone came up and placed their orders. You hadn’t seen Juice for most of the night since he initially showed up and greeted you. You mentally kicked yourself for even noticing it, let along feeling some type of way about it. You didn’t know what exactly the feeling was, but it wasn’t good.

You were about to step outside to take a break for a couple minutes, asking the prospect to hold it together so you could try and catch your breath. However as you looked out over the expanse of the clubhouse you saw Juice sitting on one of the couches, with a girl from Cara Cara straddling his lap. Suddenly it made sense why you hadn’t seen him since he first got there.

He didn’t see you looking, and it was definitely better that way. You pushed down the feeling of disappointment as you grabbed a beer for yourself and made your way towards the door. You sat down on the picnic table, grateful that everyone was inside in the midst of the chaos so you had a couple minutes to yourself. The cool night air ripped through you, causing you to shiver, but you weren’t ready to go back in yet.

Once your beer was finished, you knew that you had to head back inside and finish off your shift. Running your hands down your face, you let out a deep sigh as you got up to head back into the mess. You tried to get your mind right, reminding yourself why you put distance between you and all of your patrons to begin with. You should’ve known better than to make exceptions to the rules, even if the exceptions had pleading brown eyes like Juice.

You got back behind the bar, dismissing the prospect with a good-natured smile, “Back into the wild with you,” you laughed as you gently nudged him out from behind the bar.

“You sure? I-I can still work. It’s really not—”

“Go,” you forced a laugh, “These guys put you through the wringer enough, you should get to enjoy some of the good stuff too. If I need you, I’ll yell.”

The end of his mouth kicked up into a smirk as he nodded, “Thanks. I’ll, I’ll be around.”

You silently shook your head as you watched him scamper off into the throws of the party. You took a few long, slow breaths as you collected up the bottles that had been tossed onto the surface of the bar, giving it a quick wipe-down despite the fact that it would be cluttered again within a matter of minutes.

When you turned back around to see if anyone was waiting to get a drink, you came face-to-face with Juice. He had the same cheery smile on his face that you were used to seeing on him, but you were still too busy beating yourself up to enjoy it. He immediately noticed the way that you wouldn’t meet his eyes and his smile dulled instantly.

“You good?”

You nodded, “Yea, all good. You?” you braced your hands against the bar, “Want a drink?”

He hadn’t heard you use a cold tone with him in a while, and it caught him off-guard, “N-no. I just…I came to see how you’re doing,”

“I’m good,” you nodded, busying yourself with the stacked glasses on your side of the counter.

“You sure?” you could feel that he was waiting for you to look at him.

“So sure,” you chuckled but it was hollow. You popped the tops off two beer bottles and slid them across to him, “Here. One for you and one for your friend,” you nodded towards the girl who had been in his lap, who was now sitting on the arm of the couch and leaning down to whisper something into Chibs’ ear.

He looked back and forth between the two of you, “She’s not—”

“I don’t need t—” you stopped yourself, “I don’t wanna know. Not my business.”

Before he had the chance to say anything else, you walked to the other end of the bar and made yourself look busy while doing a whole lot of nothing. You could do that for as long as it took him to walk away. He hung back and stared at you for a minute, but when he realized that you weren’t going to budge, he grabbed the bottles with a sigh and walked away.

As the night wore on, every now and then you’d feel Juice’s eyes on you. You knew that whatever problem was starting to brew there was one of your own creation. You were the one who was constantly telling the guys not to waste their time and when they decided to listen you let yourself get your feelings hurt. He didn’t do anything to deserve the cold shoulder that you were giving him, but you gave it anyway. It would only take a few shifts to get your mind right again and surely he would survive that without a problem.

“Hey,” Opie’s voice ripped you off your train of thought.

You looked over at him, forcing a smile, “Hey, what’s up?”

“You good?”

You nodded, “Yea, of course, why?”

“I’m used to Juice looking like a kicked puppy,” he chuckled quietly and shook his head, “It’s a new look on you though.”

You rolled your eyes, “Shut the fuck up.”

“What happened?”

“Not that it’s any of your business anyway,” you threw your rag down on the surface of the bar, “But nothing happened.”

“Mhm,” he nodded, lightly trailing his fingers through his beard as he waited for you to crack and say something more.

“Is there something in particular you would like, Opie?” you arched one eyebrow.

He shook his head, “Nope,” he rapped his knuckles against the bar top, “Just figured I’d check in on you. But if you’re alright then—”

“I am. Thank you.”

He knew better than to push his luck. If you really needed something he knew you’d ask. With a slight nod he walked away from the bar and you sighed as you watched him rejoin the rest of his crew. Running your hands down your face, you geared up to finish the rest of your shift. It was about the time that people started to disperse, and you wished that it was like the other bars you’d worked in where you could just start essentially kicking people out. But the clubhouse was more than just a bar—it was also home base for the MC and you didn’t get to kick them out of their own home.

You were sitting on a stool on the customer side of the bar, leaning back against it as you watched the crowd thin out. You’d lost track of Juice earlier in the night and it was probably for the best—he probably left with the girl you’d seen him with before

. And it was honestly better that way, or at least that’s what you were going to tell yourself.

“You want me to clean up tonight?” the prospect materialized in front of you, an expectant look on his face.

You smiled and shook your head, “I got it tonight, thank you though. Go home, get some rest.”

He didn’t wait around for you to possibly change your mind, quickly turning on his heel and making his way towards the door. You chuckled quietly to yourself and shook your head as you watched the door shut behind him as he left. After taking a couple minutes for the last of everyone to clear out, you stood up and set about getting things in order for the night. You shut the music off and started picking up the glasses and bottles that littered the tables throughout the clubhouse.

You were stacking dirty glasses into the dishwasher when you heard heavy footsteps making their way closer to you. You glanced back over your shoulder, expecting to see one of the guys coming out for one last beer to bring to their room or something of the sort, but instead you just saw Juice standing there, hands tucked into his pockets. He looked so different without his kutte on, just a plain white t-shirt with his cargo pants.

“Need something?” you asked without turning to face him.

“Was hoping you’d be in more of a mood to talk,” he stepped closer to the bar.

“About?”

“Did I, did I do something? Say something that upset you?”

You sighed, looking up at the ceiling for a moment before shaking your head, “No, you didn’t.”

“Then why won’t you make eye contact with me?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you still didn’t turn around as you poured soap into the dishwasher.

It only took him a couple strides to appear behind you. You weren’t looking at him but you could feel how close he was. It might’ve been in your head, but you could’ve sworn that you felt the heat radiating off of his body. He was more than close enough to reach out and touch you, to try and turn you to face him, but he didn’t.

“C’mon, talk to me,” his voice was quiet, nonconfrontational.

“There’s,” you shook your head, lifting and shutting the door to the dishwasher with more force than necessary, “there’s nothing to talk about. I told you—you didn’t do anything.”

You knew that you could only stand there with your back to him for so long before you had to turn and look him in the eye. Taking one more deep breath you ripped the band-aid off and faced him. His eyes desperately searched yours, looking for answers that you didn’t want to give him.

“What’s going on?”

You forced yourself not to break eye contact, “I told you, it’s nothing. Better not hang out here too long,” you nodded towards the hall that led to the dorms, “your friend will start wondering where you ran off to.”

“My fr—” he stopped, shaking his head, “I’m by myself back there,” he chuckled and gestured with his arm, “You’re more than welcome to go look for yourself.”

You rolled your eyes, grabbing one of the liquor bottles and pouring yourself a drink in one of the few clean glasses that were left, “I’ll just take your word for it.”

“That what’s been bothering you all night? That I was talking with that girl from—”

“Looked like more than just talking,” your tone was more bitter than you wanted it to be.

He chuckled, not amused by the fact that you were hurt, but more out of shock that you even cared at all, “I didn’t think that it would be topping your list of concerns. You made it pretty fuckin’ clear that none of us should waste our time chasing after you.”

“I know,” you leaned forward, bracing yourself on the edge of the bar, “I know. That’s why this is so fucking stupid. I’ve got no right to feel like this.”

He stepped in closer, “Feel like what?”

You downed your drink and all but slammed the glass down on the bar top, “Jealous.”

His eyes grew wide. Deep down he thought that that was what was going on, but it was also difficult for him to picture you being jealous at all, let alone over him. He reached out and gently rested his hand on your shoulder, “There something you wanna talk about?”

“No. I don’t wanna talk about it.”

He couldn’t help but to smile at how stubborn you were being, “C’mon. We’re friends, right? Talk to me.”

“Juice, stop,” your tone was annoyed but you could feel the weight in your chest starting to lighten as he pestered you with a knowing smirk on his face.

“What’s going on? You don’t get to ignore me all night and then tell me you’re jeal—”

“I like you, alright?” you huffed, shaking your head and running your hands over your head, “I like you. And I know it’s dumb and goes against everything I’ve ever said to any of you guys. But you’re sweet and funny and cute and I didn’t think anything of it until I saw you with that girl all over you and I just,” you sighed, “Fuck.”

He gave you a second to get your thoughts in order, leaning his back against the bar next to you. You weren’t looking directly at him but you could see the smile on his face. He gently nudged you, “Hey,” he waited for you to look at him, “I like you too. And, for the record,” he smiled, “you don’t have to be so upset about liking me. I’m not that bad.”

It finally got a laugh out of you, “I never said that.”

“That what this has been all about tonight?” he motioned back and forth between the two of you, “Because of some random girl who wouldn’t leave me alone?”

“You didn’t seem to mind it, Juice,” you shot him a disbelieving look.

He chuckled, “I’m only human, alright?” he turned his body so it was facing yours, “But why didn’t you just say something? Because I mean, I’ve never been subtle. You’ve known how I feel.”

You felt your face heating up, “I know.”

“Then why—”

“Because I didn’t want to admit it,” you turned so that you were finally facing him head-on, “And I’m sorry for that. And…for the rest of it.”

There was a smirk on his face, “It’s alright.”

“Why are you still being so nice to me after I was such a dick to you?”

He laughed, a wave of bravery washed over him and he reached out to rest his hands on your hips, “You weren’t that much of a dick.”

“Well,” you couldn’t help but to laugh, “thank you for that.”

“C’mere,” he chuckled as he pulled you in close and hugged you. You let yourself lean into him and for the first time all night you felt your body relax. His warmth bled over onto you immediately as you loosely draped your arms around him.

You felt him kiss the edge of your forehead and you pulled back to look at him. It was evident in his eyes that he was trying to figure out if he pushed it too far. You smiled as you reached up and rested one hand on his cheek for a moment before pulling him down to you and pressing your lips to his. You felt his lips curl into a smile as he wrapped his arms tighter around you.

When you finally pulled away to catch your breath, you could see the glint in Juice’s eyes, “What?”

He shook his head, smiling, “Nothing. Just, you should’ve done this way sooner.”

You laughed, playfully pushing against his chest, “Easy for you to say.”

He kissed you again, softly, “You wanna stay?”

You shook your head, “No way. I know what goes on back in those dorms,” you laughed for a moment, before continuing, “But, if you’re up for it, I will cash in on that lift home.”

His eyes lit up, “Yea?”

You nodded, “Yea,” you dropped your hands so your fingers interlocked with his as you tugged him towards the door, “C’mon.”

#sons of anarchy #sons of anarchy imagine #soa #soa imagine #juice ortiz #juice ortiz x reader #juice ortiz x you #juice ortiz imagine #juan carlos #juan carlos ortiz #my writing #exceptions #part 2 #fanfiction #drabblesmc

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refinedbuffoonery · 3 years ago

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Looking Through A Window (5)

macriley married undercover au

masterlist.

Admittedly, this is kind of a filler/transition chapter, but I have big plans for this story, and I’m really excited for y’all to read what happens next. Expect an update every weekend this month!

*****

The nightmare sinks its claws deeper as Mac tries to dislodge it. He knows it’s a dream, and Mac tosses and turns as he grapples for control of his mind.

The images in his mind persist. He's back in the Sandbox, but this time Bozer is with him, and Bozer's dying from a bullet wound before Mac can carry him to safety. Mac's had the dream a million times, and it always ends the same way.

I know you won’t let me die, Bozer says. But seconds later, his eyes turn glassy when his soul leaves his body.

Mac’s throat closes, cutting off his oxygen supply, and for a moment he thinks he’s going to follow Bozer into the afterlife.

It’s just a dream. He’s just lucid enough to remind himself of that. Wake up, Mac commands his body. Wake up. Wake up. Wake up. Wake up.

The nightmare won’t let him.

Suddenly a different set of claws grip Mac’s shoulders, and the voice ordering him to wake up isn’t his own. He tries to jerk away, but the claws dig in.

Not claws, Mac realizes. Hands. Slender ones, with long fingers. Nails biting into his skin through his worn t-shirt.

He knows those hands.

“Wake up,” Riley hisses, and it’s enough to finally yank Mac from his dream. Mac’s eyes snap open, automatically scanning his surroundings. The bedroom is pitch black, but Mac can just make out Riley kneeling above him, her tired face twisted in concern. Her hands are on Mac’s shoulders, but not pinning him to the bed like he first thought. Her touch is light, and her thumbs make gentle sweeps across his collarbones. Mac’s own hands find Riley’s forearms, but he doesn’t push her away, nor does she lay back down. “You okay?” she asks.

Mac tries to play it off. “Yeah, bad dream. That’s all.” It’s a bit of an exaggeration, considering that he’s drenched in sweat and the final and most disturbing seconds of the dream are lingering longer than the rest. He knows it’s not real, but Mac can’t quite shake the sick feeling.

Riley exhales, and Mac finds himself mirroring her breathing automatically. Sliding a hand down to her wrist, he presses two fingers into her skin, feeling the steady thrum of her pulse. It’s faster than he expects.

Almost as if in explanation, Riley says, “You scared the shit out of the dog, not to mention me.”

Mac winces, feeling guilty. “Sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize.” Slowly, Riley releases him and lays back down, leaving plenty of space between them. Mac misses her touch the instant she lets go. “Want to talk about it?”

That throat-closing feeling returns as Mac contemplates what to tell her. Part of him wants to share, but a bigger part hesitates when the explanation dies on his tongue. “Not really,” he finally says.

“Okay.” Riley says, pausing. “You’re wide awake right now, aren’t you?”

This, at least, he can admit easily. “Yep.”

There’s another long pause, filled only with the soft sound of their exhales. Just when he’s about to tell Riley to stop worrying about him and go back to sleep, she says, “Come here.”

Mac stills. That weird tension still lingers between him and Riley, causing awkward silences and stilted conversations. So this…this is unexpected.

He shouldn't. He really shouldn't. But, her voice is soft and reassuring, and who is he to turn down a free opportunity to cuddle with the woman he loves? Even if it might be a mistake.

As soon as Mac scoots across the bed, Riley pulls him into her side, guiding his head to rest on her non-injured shoulder. Riley’s side of the bed isn’t nearly as warm as his, but her body is soft and Mac likes how they fit together. Mac can’t help but sigh in contentment as Riley lightly scratches his scalp, and he lets an arm settle over her waist. They’ve fallen asleep together plenty of times over the years, but she’s never held him. Not like this. His heart pounds at the intimacy of it all.

But as Mac slowly starts to relax, the pulse in his ear doesn’t slow like it should. Because it’s not his heartbeat he’s hearing.

It’s hers.

Does that mean…?

“So,” Riley says, breaking the silence. “It’s later.”

The realization feels like a slap to the face. That’s why her heart is beating so fast. Not because of their close proximity, but because it’s later and there’s still that unresolved thing hanging between them. Mac’s fleeting hope that Riley’s racing pulse meant something else is nothing more than a fantasy in his head.

Swallowing his disappointment, Mac starts, “Riley, I really am sorry—” She cuts him off.

“Stop. You don’t need to apologize again. I forgave you the first time.” Her fingers sweep behind his ear, making him shiver slightly. “It’s my turn.” Riley takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry for not listening to you. Like, really listening. Your concerns are legit, and I shouldn’t have brushed them aside and followed Matty blindly.”

Oh.

“I hate this situation just as much as you do, and I’m sorry if I made you feel otherwise.” Her voice catches slightly. “Also, I lied to you this morning, in the car. I knew I needed to apologize. I just didn’t know how to say it yet.”

Pointedly ignoring the intimacy of the gesture, Mac brushes his thumb over her ribs in a way he hopes is reassuring. “It’s okay.”

Riley tenses beneath him, and Mac freezes instantly. “It’s not, but thanks for saying that anyway,” she murmurs, relaxing again. Her fingers resume their path through his hair, catching on the occasional tangle.

Mac doesn’t know how to reassure her that it really is okay. So instead he confesses, “Sometimes I hate this job.”

She’s quiet for a few long seconds before responding. “Me too.”

It’s weird voicing it aloud. They’re all painfully aware of the downsides to the job, but rarely does anyone directly mention it. Maybe Riley is on a similar page as him after all.

Mac questions, “Are we doing the right thing? Playing along and letting innocent people get hurt just so we can take down the whole organization at once?” He needs to know her answer…needs confirmation that this whole op isn’t just one massive wrong choice.

“I think the good we do outweighs the bad,” Riley says after a few moments. “At least that’s what I tell myself so I can sleep at night.” She shifts, and for a brief, exhilarating moment, their hips press together before she pushes her knee uncomfortably into his thigh. Mac squirms, trying and failing to find a good position, ultimately taking a chance by slotting his leg between hers. Riley inhales sharply, but she doesn’t push him away. Mac tries not to read into it. Lying like this is intimate and intense and yet so easy. So right.

Mac pushes the heady feeling aside, ignoring the way it crackles in the background, threatening to consume him. They need to have this conversation, without distraction. Even welcome ones.

“Riley, we helped them kill people,” he says, and Riley’s hand stills in his hair.

“We can’t save everyone, Mac."

The thrumming in his body stops so quickly Riley might as well have dumped a bucket of ice water on him.

His heart cracks as she softly repeats, "We just can't." Like maybe she's breaking her own heart too by saying it.

He wants to kiss her chest—to press his lips to her heart in an attempt to soothe the ache there.

Mac understands all too well. It’s not the countless lives they have saved that stick with him, but the few they couldn’t. Zoe, the researcher who drowned in the Arctic to save her students. Jill, who fell victim to one of Murdoc’s murderous games. Charlie, who sacrificed himself so Mac wouldn’t have to choose between saving his friend and saving hundreds of innocent people. Lasky, the nuclear plant engineer who was just doing his job. Mac’s father. His aunt. Jack.

Riley clears her throat. "So, yeah. I think we are doing the right thing. It just sucks.”

Mac agrees, even though he can hardly admit it to himself. But there’s still one thing he doesn’t understand. “I don’t get how Matty seemed so okay with all of this,” he says.

“Come on, Mac. You know Matty hates this just as much as we do. She wouldn’t ask us to play along if she didn’t think it was necessary.” Riley’s fingers resume their steady, sweeping path through his hair, and Mac takes comfort in the gesture.

He sighs. “You sound like Jack.”

“I learned from the best. Don’t tell him I said that,” Riley warns, but Mac can hear the smile in her voice.

He tilts his face toward the ceiling, imagining Jack looking down at them from whatever afterlife he found himself in. “You hear that, old man? She admitted to learning something from you.”

Riley snorts, giving Mac’s hair a sharp tug. “Oh shut up.” She means it to be playful, but it sends a bolt of desire through his body.

It’s too much, with her hand in his hair and their bodies intertwined, and the intimacy may very well burn Mac alive. Every nerve in his body goes on high alert, and his grip on Riley’s rib cage tightens automatically.

“Sleep,” she murmurs, clearly mistaking the tension in his body as coming from somewhere—anywhere—else. Riley is one of the smartest, most perceptive people Mac knows, and yet she has no idea how he feels about her. Maybe that’s a good thing, he reasons. It’s easier that way. Less complicated.

Although full-on front-to-front cuddling isn’t not complicated.

It doesn't take long for the gentle pressure of Riley's fingers to win out, and Mac melts into her touch, letting his body grow heavy. Sleep beckons, and his eyelids flutter shut of their own accord as Riley wraps her free arm around his back, pulling him closer. Again, he thinks she feels like safety.

In his last moments of consciousness, Mac mumbles, “I like this,” before drifting back to sleep.

*****

For the first time, Riley is already out of bed when Mac wakes, and he’s positive it has something to do with the fact that he’s still on her side of the bed.

Cuddling with her was a mistake. Even if it led to the best sleep he’s had in a long time.

Burying his face in Riley’s pillow, Mac takes a deep breath. It smells like her. He hears the front door open and close, and then Riley’s muffled voice fills the apartment. Mac can’t quite pick up what she’s saying, but he thinks she’s on the phone rather than talking to Harley.

Suddenly getting up seems like a daunting task.

Not caring if it makes him a coward, Mac stays in bed, taking the opportunity to study the bedroom decor. This is day nine of the op, and before now Mac never bothered to appreciate the work someone put into setting up the safe house. It’s too modern and minimalist for his taste, but he has to admit it looks nice. The bedroom walls are a soft light gray, with a handful of paintings of different sizes and framed photos of him, Riley, and Harley scattered throughout. More of the photos Bozer took are in the hallway, but Mac’s never given those more than a cursory glance.

Across from the bed sits the single, expensive-looking dresser, with overstuffed drawers that don’t quite shut all the way. One of Riley’s drawers is completely open, and the t-shirt she wore to bed last night hangs haphazardly over the edge.

Mac’s eyes catch on the photo sitting on top of the dresser, beside the plant he keeps forgetting to water. It’s one of the wedding photos, and it’s the only photo Mac has really paid attention to, since he stares at it every day while getting dressed. The photo is of Riley and him slow dancing, and she’s looking at him like he hung the moon. And he’s looking at her the exact same way.

More than anything, Mac wishes it was real.

The bedroom door creaks open, and Mac cranes his neck to see Harley’s fluffy head peek through. She doesn’t enter. Instead, Harley watches him cautiously, almost like she wasn’t expecting him to be awake and is now unsure what to do.

Mac pats the mattress. “It’s okay. Come on.” When she doesn’t move, he adds, “I’m sorry I scared you last night.” His apology must be enough, because Harley jumps on the bed with him. She stands between his outstretched legs as Mac rakes his hands through her fur, scratching her butt the way she likes. “How about I get you a new toy to make up for it?” he asks. Tail wagging, Harley licks his face in approval, and Mac laughs. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Riley raises her voice—she’s complaining about something, although Mac still can’t determine what—and both Mac and Harley turn their attention to the sound.

Harley looks back at him, and Mac starts to think that he wasn’t far off the other day when he noticed Harley playing protector. He smiles softly. “Go check on her.”

Harley jumps off the bed immediately, surprising Mac when she glances back at him on her way out the door.

Still smiling, Mac gets up to start his day.

By the time he emerges from the bedroom, Riley is playing fetch with Harley in the living room while she’s on the phone. Surprised the call has lasted this long, Mac raises his brow, silently asking who she’s talking to, and Riley holds up a finger. One second.

While he’s waiting, Mac wanders into the kitchen in search of breakfast.

Riley’s next throw ricochets off the wall, and the tennis ball hits Mac’s thigh. “What do you mean he’s not in the database?” she shrieks. “Bozer, practically every criminal in the world is in that database.”

Mac freezes midway through unwrapping a muffin.

Riley pinches her nose. “Then run the sketch through the DMV database. The guy who tailed me has to exist somewhere.”

He swallows. “Tailed?”

“Hang on, Boze. Mac just walked in.” Exasperated, Riley moves her phone away from her face. “I took Harley for a walk while you were still asleep, and some guy tailed me. Don’t worry, I lost him long before returning to the apartment.”

Mac bristles. Riley had been in danger, and he was asleep. Why didn’t she tell him where she was going? He tries not to think about all the bad things that could’ve happened. “You think this guy is part of the Patriots?”

Shrugging, Riley says, “That makes the most sense. But it’s hard to know for sure when we don’t have personnel records.”

That’s just one of many problems with this op—no official list of known members of the Patriots. Mac and Riley have no choice but to learn about people the old-fashioned way.

Pinning her phone between her cheek and her shoulder, Riley retrieves the tennis ball from under the couch, her voice muffled as she asks, “Got anything, Boze?” A few seconds later, she groans, but Mac can’t tell whether it’s because of Bozer’s answer or the amount of hair now stuck to the visibly soggy tennis ball in her hands. He makes a mental note to vacuum again. “Thanks for trying,” she says before hanging up.

Treading carefully, Mac asks, “Well?” He doesn’t need to be a genius to know that she’s still rattled, no matter how much she tries to downplay it.

“His name is Peter Morrison, and he has three speeding tickets. That’s it.” Still holding the tennis ball, Riley’s shoulders slump as she sits on the arm of the couch. Confused why she stopped playing, Harley stands between Riley’s legs and whines, nosing Riley’s hand in an attempt to get her to throw the ball again.

When Riley doesn’t oblige her, Mac asks, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?” Riley says, but her voice is tight and she bristles when he moves closer. He knows she’s lying—they’ve both been lying a lot recently—but what Mac doesn’t understand is why. He knows why he’s lying, but why does Riley still feel the need to hide how she’s feeling from him?

It’s like the intimacy of last night never happened.

Mac takes the wet, hairy tennis ball from her hands and throws it for Harley. “Do you want a hug or help kicking someone’s ass?” The question earns him a small smile, one that makes Mac’s heart flutter in his chest.

“I was thinking more along the lines of punching someone in the face, but I suppose we can kick them too,” she quips. Mac laughs, and the corners of Riley’s eyes crinkle as her smile widens.

“Sounds like a plan.” Harley brings the ball back and drops it at Mac’s feet. “Last throw,” he tells her, knowing full well it won’t be. Turning his attention back to Riley, he asks, “How’s your shoulder?”

Absent-mindedly, Riley’s fingers trace the outline of a bruise peeking out from beneath her tank top. “It hurts. You grabbed it in your sleep last night, and I almost screamed.”

Mac grimaces. “Sorry.” He wants to ask about last night and make sure they’re okay, but the words refuse to form. “I’m going to call Conrad and make him explain, okay?”

“Okay.” Riley nods. For a second, it seems like she wants to say something more, but she ultimately doesn’t. Honoring her implicit request for space, Mac briefly squeezes her arm as he walks away. The gesture is a promise: I’m here.

*****

“This is unacceptable,” Mac growls at Ethan, later that day. After giving Conrad an earful over the phone, apparently Mac made a big enough fuss to warrant a visit from the leader of the Patriots himself. They meet in public—neutral ground—at a park not unlike the one across the street from Mac and Riley’s apartment. It feels wrong to use the term safe house, since it’s not as safe as they thought.

“I’m sorry you feel that way, James,” Ethan placates. “It’s simply standard business procedure. I’m sure you researched us before formally offering your services.”

Mac barely stops himself from making a face. Oh they researched the Patriots, all right. “Of course we did.” He really should do a better job of holding his snark at bay, but Mac lets it tint his words anyway. “But we didn’t invade individual members’ privacy or threaten anyone’s personal safety.”

“My employee did not and would not have hurt your wife. She was never in danger, I can assure you.”

“And how was she supposed to know that?” He’s borderline yelling, but Mac is too pissed to care. The more Ethan tries to convince him the situation is okay, the more Mac wishes they were closer to the playground so he could strangle Ethan with the chain from the swings. He snarls, “Explain that to me.”

Ethan, it seems, is at a rare loss for words. Mac waits, forcing the other man to fill the silence. “I suppose she wouldn’t have,” Ethan finally admits, although he shows no sign of backing down.

Mac stands. “Don’t let this happen again.” He starts to walk away, content with having the last word, but Mac stops dead in his tracks when Ethan calls after him.

“If you won’t comply with the way we do things, then I guess we’ll just have to find someone else.”

Mac spins on his heel. “That’s bullshit,” he spits. “You need us. You won’t find anyone better, at least not that you can afford, and we both know it. Your organization is small potatoes right now, but with our support, the Patriots could join the big leagues. So it’s up to you to decide whether you’re content with throwing your money at a pipe dream or if you want to actually accomplish something.” Ethan is taller than him, but Mac manages to look down at him anyway—something he learned from Matty. “The choice is yours. Let me know when you’ve made it.”

Without waiting for a response, Mac shoves his hands in his pockets and walks away, praying he didn’t just ruin the whole op.

~ Tag List ~ Want to be added? Send me an ask.

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#beth writes #looking through a window au #macriley #macgyver #macgyver fanfiction #angus macgyver #riley davis

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dianapana · 3 years ago

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SH Day 12- ANBU Black Ops

@sasuhinamonth

たえる Part 2 (taeru=to endure)

Part 1

Rated M, Ninja Universe that underwent some changes (you’ll see that I use major events in the canon world but there is a lot of history that’s altered), OOC (major OOC for Hinata especially)

Warning: self-harm, mental health, sexual harassment, trauma

Hello, dears, I play quite a bit with chronology in this chapter, I hope it's all easy to understand. I made moth things be during summer so around the time of the girl SH month which is why in all the cases you'll see Sasuke is 1year older than Hina, since his bday is in July and hers in December. I hope you enjoy, ~Love Dia

Sasuke, age 23

I think it’s fair for me to say that I’ve been through a lot, not many things shake me anymore and all the things that have made me worried in the past years have had something in common, they were all somehow related to Hinata. I remember when I woke up after the war, I was chained to a hospital bed, placed under a jutsu that blocked my chakra, I was missing a limb and I was on the verge of insanity once more. The only thing that calmed me down was her image. Even without my chakra I searched for hers. She too was in the hospital; I found her signature light purple chakra but it was so faint and small I almost missed it. Seeing her like that made me crazy with worry, once everyone left my room, I broke all the chains and dragged myself to her room despite the pain. I hadn’t thought of her as fragile since our reunion when she was 15. I could barely stand to see her that way, and even if I wanted to stay and watch over her for longer, I could feel Naruto’s chakra getting closer, which meant I had to leave. For the following weeks I could only go and see her late at night, for there was always someone in her room, Naruto, her father, her sister, some sort of nurse or medic. I recovered under a month, yet I stayed until she woke up.

I was the only one in the room when her eyes opened, she looked confused and for a moment I was sure she had amnesia and would not remember me, us. But for the briefest moment her eyes rested upon my figure and recognition was there, relief was there, gratitude, affection and many other nuances that I can never seem to read or fully comprehend reflected in her eyes. I took her hand and kissed the back of it, allowing myself a small selfish gesture before leaving the room to inform the medics she woke up. Sakura gave me a strange, questioning look when I told her Hinata had woken up, but I didn’t care about subtlety at that second, I just wanted them to check her for any issues, I wanted her to be physically fine.

She didn’t have many memories of the war when she was first questioned, but they came back in waves and waves. I could tell that the questions overwhelmed her, much like the people that littered around, there were over 10 visitors in her tiny hospital room, from her father to Naruto, Kiba and many others. I just watched the whole situation from outside her window. I noticed her looking around, searching for someone that wasn’t there. No, it wasn’t me, she knew I wouldn’t be there when other people were, I knew exactly who she was searching for, that’s why I wanted to be close by. I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop, I knew things would take a turn for the worse soon enough. I saw it, the exact moment the fog raised off of her memories, the moment in which reality hit her, the moment in which the remaining light in her eyes died.

She asked for Neji, Naruto cringed, her father was the one to inform her of his passing. She asked when the funeral was going to be and silence fell onto the room. Sakura tried to slowly explain that the war ended two months ago and all the dead were already long buried. Hinata cried, she cried for her fallen cousin, she cried for missing his funeral, she cried for herself. They all gave her hugs and condolences, they reassured her that none of that was her fault. They all expected her to mourn and soon enough bounce back to the façade she always kept around the people in the village. They were unaware of the emotional depth her sadness could reach. I knew their expectations would never be met, I could tell that the headspace she was in was similar to the night I found her on the forest floor, she had the same look in her eyes as when she constantly begged me to let her die. Knowing all of that, I expected her to make certain choices, yet, despite knowing what was to come, I was unable to help, there wasn’t a single moment in which she was alone for a week to come. And when it all happened, I panicked at the notion of her death and responded wrongly to her actions.

I wasn’t watching her when she attempted to kill herself, I was with Tsunade who kept insisting that I accept their fake arm. I was in the midst of refusing once more, when I could feel a commotion in her room, I left without a word and ran there. The image that was in front of me wasn’t surprising but it was just as heart-breaking. Hinata’s bed was covered in blood, her left wrist was being treated by Sakura but you could still see the long and slim-cut along her wrist, Naruto was holding her other arm trying to put pressure on her wrist to stop the bleeding. It scared me, the amount of blood on herself and the bed, her light-headedness and indifference indicated that she had been bleeding for a long time. She waited for a moment in which I wasn’t there either, she wanted to escape me too. Had Naruto and Sakura been late they might have found her corpse instead. I left the room to calm myself down, I couldn’t cause a commotion. I tried my best to come up with kind and comforting words to tell her later when I would return to her room, but when I did, the image that greeted me, her arms strapped to the bed, made me lose my composure. I screamed at her, I can’t even recall what I said but I know it was very inappropriate, she laughed, she cried. Trying to comfort her with only one arm was difficult, that was the very first moment when I even considered accepting Tsunade’s offer, but in the end I didn’t. I spent every night that followed with her, after the initial shock I was able to recall the words I meant to give her, I knew they weren’t going to miraculously fix everything but I felt that she needed them nonetheless.

She apologized for considering that path and acting on her thoughts. I undid her chains and pulled her to my lap as she talked. “The moment my eyes moved past Naruto’s shoulders and I saw you in the door frame I regretted my choice, I wished I could undo it if only to never have to see that look on your face” I placed my face into her hair and just breathed her in. “I think I understand a little better now…what you felt when Itachi died, when you found out the truth. Our situations aren’t the same but I remember how…” she stopped, searching for the perfect word.

“Crazy? Unhinged? Mad?” I provided, but she frowned and shook her head.

“No, no, none of those…how anguished, sorrowful, wretched you were at the time. You come to me in a very agitated state, I was scared and concerned but couldn’t grasp that feeling. Now I do” If I’m honest I don’t remember how felt at the time, I don’t remember many things about that period of my life, all I know is that I wanted to give up, I thought I had made only wrong choices in my life, but I saw her and I remembered that even I could save someone.

After a few more nights she assured me that she was now mentally stable, her sadness was still very much present, but she had not had any self-harming thoughts. The decision to leave the village was very difficult at the time, but Hinata assured me that she enjoyed our routine and wished to continue it. I left but our correspondence was much more frequent than before the war, I would write her every other day and she’d reply as soon as my messages reached her. It took a bit over 3 months for her to resume her work as an ANBU, and a bit over 8 months in total to convince Kakashi to promote her to ANBU Black Ops. Her missions became more difficult and longer, she even had a mission in Amegakure that lasted half a year. When she first sent me the message informing me of the location of her mission it reminded me of our first encounter after I left the village. Our encounter that summer isn’t a memory I think of fondly, I was cruel, I was insane, I abused my knowledge of her trauma. Whenever I remember my actions, I want to go back and rewind the time, I want to apologize to 15-year-old Hinata, she was meek and fragile and I broke a part of her. She was doing her best to survive and to keep going and I was a huge obstacle in her recovery. When my feelings for her started changing I was always self-conscious whether they were genuine or not, wasn’t I using her? Wasn’t I just feeling guilty?

Hinata, age 15

I am nervous as I pack my bag for this mission, it is my first solo mission ever. 6 months after I became a Jonin and Tsunade finally trusts me enough to allow me to go alone in a mission. The destination is Amegakure and the mission is supposed to last for about to 3 weeks. The difficulty level of the mission is only B which I’d be pretty annoyed at, but the distance factor and the solo factor make up for it so, I am equally nervous and excited. When I told Neji about the mission he was concerned but didn’t show it much for my sake. Instead, he congratulated me and we had a small picnic in the outer skirt of the Hyuuga estate as celebration.

Now I am looking through my dresser for appropriate clothes for the rain to pack, I have to look for another set of kunais just in case and prepare myself a couple of bentos to have on hand. Slowly, the closer the night before my departure gets the less anxious I am, excitement seems to be the winning sentiment.

The morning of, I wake up at 4:30 a.m. and am unable to sleep longer. By the time I am fully dressed and ready to go it’s only 5:00 a.m. and the sun is barely raising, but I decide that it is light enough outside for me to leave. As always whenever I pass through the forest there’s a chill going through my veins and my enthusiasm is a bit dampened, I actively try and avoid that specific place even if it means it will add to the journey time. On the schedule, Tsunade gave me I’m meant to spend 8 days on the road to the village, approximately 4 or 5 days into the village and 8 more days back.

The mission itself isn’t supposed to be that difficult all I need to do is meet with different people in the village give them the scrolls Tsunade gave me and wait for their replies. All in all, there should be no fighting, I’m mostly a messenger but the large amount of people that need contacting made it impossible for a summon raven to deliver the scrolls. My adrenaline rush of being on my own, experiencing what freedom feels like made me speed up during the journey, I took less stops and didn’t even spend the night in one of the Inns I was supposed to. Thus, not only did I depart earlier than planned but I arrived into the village almost a day and a half ahead of the schedule. Since it’s still barely past noon I decide to start the mission a day early and I am able to cover a fifth of the task on the first day.

People usually when talking about Amegakure call it gloomy and depressing, but I enjoy walking around in the rain, the temperature isn’t too high despite it being the middle of a heatwave everywhere else, the smell and sounds of rain also add to its charm. The Inn I’m supposed to stay at for the duration of my mission is on the outside of the village, it is away from the noise of the centre, but not far out enough to say it isn’t part of the village at all. Walking into my room I sit down and finally grasp that I am days away from Konoha, I am alone. The realization makes me emotional; I hadn’t realized how much I needed to be on my own, how good it would feel to put distance between me and everything that Konoha entailed.

Sitting alone in the dark, only with the occasional lightning brightening up my room, I make a decision, I promise myself to only ever come on solo missions. I’ve endured years of discomfort so I deserved to feel this way, if only during missions. I take a shower and go to bed, I’m not as physically tired as I thought I would be after the journey and that worries me. I don’t want the nightmare to come and ruin my mood, but I close my eyes nonetheless.

It feels like barely a second passed when I open my eyes and see the cool light coming from outside. The sun is hidden behind the clouds of rain, but its light still pushes through to an extent. I had no dreams, no nightmares. I rested well and I feel better than I did in many years. I walk barefoot onto the cold wooden floor and I open the window, not caring that the rain is getting both me and the floor wet. I close my eyes and feel immensely liberated, the heavy chains that dragged me down at all times disappeared. Nobody here knows me and I don’t know them, I am but a face in the crowd, this anonymity offers me the independence I never knew before.

I complete the mission in under 3 days. I feel faster, stronger, happier here. It feels like I can do anything and everything. I have about 3 days I can waste in the village, under normal circumstances I’d return immediately to Konoha to get another mission and the cycle would repeat. But I decide to stay here for a while longer, I want to enjoy this feeling to the best of my ability. The day right after completing the mission I simply stay inside and sleep almost the whole day. I’m recharging my batteries which have been on low for 3 years now. I forgot what being well-rested felt like.

The following day I decide to wander around some more. The mission had me walk all over the village’s centre so, I decide to check out its outskirt more. I go and eat delicious food at a small booth owned by an older couple. Due to its relatively small scale Amegakure’s buildings are much much higher than those from Konoha so I climb on top of one that I deem to be among the highest and sit there, in the rain just watching the busy streets, looking over all the sky-high buildings and enjoying the feeling of being unrestrained by people’s gazes and expectations. For the smallest second, I feel someone’s gaze on me but I discard it as being the locals looking at the strange outsider that’s standing in the rain. I refuse to let my mood be dampened, not when I am just as high as this building is.

I return to the Inn and decide to take a shower, tomorrow is going to be my last day here and I feel like time is moving far too fast. I’m rinsing my hair when I get the same feeling as before, like someone is watching me. Before I can dismiss it again, I hear steps behind me, my mind goes blank. I’m suddenly turned around by a powerful hand, before closing my eyes I see a pair of black dead, unfeeling, cold, cruel, scary, scary, scary, scary eyes. I close my eyes and clench my jaw; I can feel tears trailing down my face. I’m hyperventilating, I can’t move, I’m weak, I’m small. I whimper when I feel his hand touching the scar right above my pelvis. The touch transports me back to when I’m 12 and on the ground, my legs no longer support me, the only reason why I’m still standing is because the man is holding my arm in an iron grip. The moment passes and his hand is gone allowing me to fall to my knees and then onto my butt. I have no idea how long I stay there in a trance. When I’m finally able to regain strength in my limbs to feel and make small movements I notice the shower water is freezing cold despite it being set to warm. I turn it off and walk into the room, there’s no trace of the man anymore, he didn’t do anything beyond touching my arm and my scar. Maybe he was simply created by my brain, yea no one was here, how could they be, why would they be.

I can feel myself slipping into hysteria as laughter bubbles up into my throat. I look around the room again searching for proof again and I sigh in relief when I find none. I’m finally calm enough to get dressed but I make the mistake of looking in the mirror. There’s a handprint on my arm where he gripped me. The print is red and turning a weird purple colour in places and yellow in others. He was here. He was real. I take small breaths in order to calm myself, I am fine, I am here, I can’t even picture the face of the man that was here, I try to force myself to forget the handprint, it was just a dream, another nightmare.

I pack my things and leave that very night despite being tired physically, mentally and emotionally. I don’t want to return to Konoha, and I can’t stay here, I don’t know where to go. The freedom I felt before gave me an amazing sense of accomplishment, but now it is a source of unease. I feel lost and like I do not belong anywhere. I feel insignificant. I feel lonely. I close my eyes and just sit on the floor outside of the village, waiting for something or someone to come get me. But nothing happens and the weather is turning cold despite the summer so I pick myself up and start walking wherever the road will take me.

I don’t remember the journey back home, I can’t even tell in how many days I completed it, I didn’t stop at all, I just ran. I ran from the man, the past, I ran from my weak self. I thought myself to be strong now that I am a Jonin, but I froze and was unable to do anything all the same. I need to be more than I am, I need to be stronger, braver, untouchable, more perceptive.

I hate myself for hesitating to enter the Konoha, I hate myself for hesitating to take on a new mission when Tsunade offers it. I hate myself when I have to walk through the halls of the Hyuuga compound, I hate myself when I hide from Neji. I hate myself when I walk into my room and burst into tears. I hate myself for getting my hope that high in Ame only to have them all crash and burn. I hate that I feel more broken today than I did 3 weeks ago.

Sasuke, age 16

I’ve been in a weird mood since a week ago when I saw Hyuuga in the Village Hidden in Rain. I hadn’t heard or seen anything related to Konoha since I left during the Chunnin exam. She was my first contact with it. Hinata Hyuuga, I remember her name clearly, she holds a special meaning to me, she is a life I saved. I saved her back before I was caught up in any business with Orochimaru, when I still thought following Kakashi was the right path to take, back when I was stupid and naïve. I hadn’t thought of her since that moment, but when my eyes fell onto her, I felt proud that she survived, but I also felt the need, the urge to utterly crush her beneath my feet. Her life belongs to me; I saved her so, I have every right to destroy her.

I could tell she was uncomfortable with me there, I felt her flinch as I traced the scar above her pelvis, I heard her whimper when I turned around, and I saw from the corner of my eye, as her legs have in and she fell to the floor. She looked small and pathetic and I felt strong in comparison.

However, now, days later I feel…guilt. I feel as if I used something against her that I shouldn’t have. At the time her image was blurry and not something I paid attention to, but I can clearly see it now whenever I close my eyes. He white skin had almost no imperfections besides the three scars, her eyes were shut tight, her face was red and wet, at the time I gloated at the thought that the water droplets were tears, now I’m hoping they were from the shower. Her long dark hair was wet and clinging to her body. She did her best to hide from me with her hands, with her position slightly bent. She was helpless, she didn’t even try to stop me, she didn’t scream or fight back, she froze in place and allowed me to do whatever I wanted. At the time that too made me feel powerful, I deluded myself into thinking that my presence as Sasuke Uchiha made her cower in fear. Now that I am analysing things once more, I realize it was her trauma that rendered her powerless, it was my presence that caused her fear, but she wasn’t scared of me, Sasuke, but rather of me, a male; she didn’t see me as an individual but as the image of the man that hurt her in the past.

Realizing that in her mind I was equal to that disgusting piece of trash makes me livid. I clench my jaw, pick up the first thing I see, a jar of whatever substance from one of Orochimaru’s labs and I throw it to the wall. The green liquid escapes its container and slowly eats away at the wall and ground, the sizzling noise and putrid smell don’t even bother me. I’m angry at her, I want to find her and scream in her face that I’m not that man. I wanna shake her until she understands. I am mad at her, at myself. Kabuto comes in and curses, he drags me out and talks under his breath, his presence adds to my anger.

“What do you want?” I ask him, I’m looking down at him. I grew taller these past few weeks, taller than him. I want him to pick a fight, I want a reason to smash his face in. The image of his bloody face as he lays unconscious on the ground would bring me the satisfaction I need. He looks mockingly at me, that’s enough to start a fight.

Less than 20 minutes later the fight is over, he’s not unconscious, he’s still standing, more precisely, walking away. But he is bleeding and so am I. The fight didn’t help. I still feel angry, but my anger is slowly being overshadowed by guilt.

The sudden urge to find her and apologize overcomes me, but I dismiss it. She’s long gone…I checked. The two of us won’t meet anytime soon and even if we do, I’ll never apologize, not to her, not to someone that…weak…

Hinata age 22

After sleeping in until 11 after all, I wake up to Sasuke’s face next to mine, I feel at ease, I feel happy. I cup his face and place a kiss over his closed eyelids. I feel his change in breath when he wakes up but his eyes remain closed. His arm comes around my waist and pulls me closer to him, slowly he opens his eyes and offers me a lazy smirk. For a while I forget that we’re in Konoha, I forget everything about people trying to control me. All my worries just disappear with his presence.

“What are you thinking about?” he asks and brushes my bangs out of my eyes. ‘You’ I want to say, but I decide to be selfish instead. I sit up and he does too, I move towards him and place myself on his lap, we are chest to chest, face-to-face. “I am unsure how long they’ll make me stay here. This... sensei job…they could stretch it for months, who knows.” I hate that that’s true, I hate that they’re trying to cage me into the village. “it’s difficult being here for an indefinite period of time, especially since I don’t have out missions to look forward to. So…” I stop talking, rethinking what I’m about to ask, wondering if it’s worth it, but he looks at me with no judgement, he’s waiting patiently. “So…I was thinking. Maybe being here in Konoha would be better…if you were here as well” Part of me initially regrets the words and wants to take them back.

“You want me to stay here until you can go back to your normal missions” he didn’t formulate it as a question so I didn’t reply, mostly because I didn’t trust myself not to say no, to act like it was a joke, so I stay silent. “Ok, I will” his hand is on my wrist and it’s slowly moving up under my tank top. “You should already know that anything you ask of me, I’ll do Hinata” I do know that, but this was something that I had been afraid to ask for a while. Would staying in Konoha be better with him here? It must be.

We talk some more about his stay in Konoha and then proceed to eat a late breakfast. “I passed by the cottage outside of Amegakure on my way to Konoha” that cottage will forever represent my safe space, all my memories in it are out-of-this-world happy. The cottage itself is pretty much outside every territory of every village, it belongs to nobody, yet that’s the place I feel I belong in. I stayed there for my thirst or fourth mission as an ANBU, as usual Sasuke met up with me and we live together there for months. Sasuke and I worked together for most of my missions, we completed them faster than it was estimated they would take and we spent the remaining of the time just being together outside of all the rules of everyone. That was the place in which after much deliberation and inner-fights I decided to put my trust in him. By then we had already expressed our feelings verbally and with actions such as kisses and hugs, but I wanted to move past that because I craved that closeness with someone, I wanted a stronger bond between us, but also out of spite, I wanted to prove that I was able to enjoy sex. I wanted to prove that what had happened no longer affected me. Out first time was a bit awkward, we were both virgins, Sasuke was overly conscious of making me feel comfortable and I just wanted it to be done with so our desired speed didn’t match, but it happened and it was fine. The second and third time around it was much better and now we reached a point in which intimacy with him doesn’t scare me in the least, I love it and it makes me feel amazing. I am aware that I’m not fully over the incident, the close proximity of strange men that I don’t know still bothers me at times, however, I am much stronger and able to protect myself, I am just...wary.

I end my train of thoughts by going back to the memory of our first time and it makes me giggle a little. Sasuke asks me with his eyes what I’m laughing about and my reply is only a smirk, I see the wheels spinning in his brain and the connections being made. I love that after so many years we’re able to just understand each other in this manner. He gets up from his chair and walks around the table to place his hand on the nape of my neck. “I can show you how much I’ve improved since than” he whispers and bends down to kiss me. I smile against his lips and loop my arms around his neck allowing him to pick me up.

I must have fallen asleep again because I am woken up this time by Naruto loudly knocking on my door. He left me alone yesterday because Sasuke was around but I guess even his long-lost best friend can’t keep his attention off of me for more than 24 hours. I look next to me and my heart hurts because Sasuke isn’t there. I tell myself it’s because he felt Naruto so he left, but I still don’t like that.

Naruto keep knocking on the door and I’m sure he’s about to tear it down if I don’t open it soon so I walk to it in my pjs with my hair a mess. When I open the door, he stops in his tracks. “Oh…” his eyes linger onto the scar on my shoulder, he has an obsession with it I’ve noticed. Does he believe that’s my biggest scar…if only he knew. “I didn’t know you were sleeping, I’m sorry”

“After yesterday’s mission the kids have the day off so I wanted to rest” I don’t assure him that it is ok even though I know that’s the polite thing to do. I am bitter and annoyed that Sasuke isn’t there. For a split moment when I woke up, I thought I had imagined his presence.

“I just wanted to bring these to you.” He says and presents me with a pile of papers. “I know you were given them before when Kakashi assigned you as their sensei” hah, like it was Kakashi’s idea. Hokage-sama wouldn’t have pushed me into being a sensei from a Black Ops and we all know that. I know Naruto pulled all of the strings to get me here, however, Kakashi-san is also to blame for allowing all of this to happen “but I think you should really read them well, you said you have a free day today. I can stay here with you and read them together”

I look at him and his easy-going smile. On normal days I’d try and be nice, but all I want to do today is spend my time in peace. “I heard Uchiha-san is back. Are you sure you want to spend the day with me reading about some kids rather than catch up with him?” I feel sorry for guiding Naruto towards Sasuke, but I know Sasuke and if he’s one thing, he’s good at not being found.

Upon hearing Sasuke’s name Naruto’s smile brightened to the extent that it actually hurt my eyes. “I already saw and talked to him today” He left before Naruto came here, was it before we ate? After? When did they meet? “We talked and agreed to go on a mission together this week” He’s leaving after I asked him to stay “We went to Kakashi and already got all the info, so I’ll spend a lot of time together with him and find out all about what he’s been up to in these years and I ---” Naruto keeps talking but I feel suffocated.

#sasuhina #sasuhina month #sasuhina month 2021 #sa survivor #sasuhinamonth2021 #shmonth #shmonth2021 #shino #hinata #susake uchiha #hinata hyuuga #uchiha #hyuuga #sasuhina facfic #fanfic #fanfiction #dia story #diawrites

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fbfh · 4 years ago

Text

fangirl’s paradise - leo x reader

genre/vibe: romance, adventure, slice of life

word count: 2.8k

pronouns/perspective: first person present, no pronouns (I think), gn reader

au: soulmate kind of?? also traveling to other dimensions/multiverse

pairing: Leo x fic writer!reader

requested: nah

warnings: you think someone broke into your house for a minute, you feel like you’re going crazy for a minute, questionable pop culture/internet references, you get really embarrased about stuff you’ve written, you say fuck a lot, tiddy as an explative

summary: all you wanted to do was write some leo one shots for your blog, but finding out he’s your soulmate is good too

reccomended songs: havana - camila cabello, where do we go from here - amelie obc

a/n: got really meta and self indulgent with this bad boy, probs gonna do a part 2 at some point, cause this got really long and I started to get tired lol. For clarity, you’re from the riordanverse, but ended up in a world where it’s fictional. also some memories were erased.

requests r open xo

All I wanted to do was dance embarrassingly and sing along to the same playlist I’d been listening to for the past three days in terrible accents while I wait for my ramen to finish cooking. That’s it. I really don’t think that’s too much to ask for. Plus, I’ve been home alone all day, so it’s really not too much to ask for. I flip over the waistband of my sweatpants while shimmying my way to the kitchen.

“Half of my heart is in havana oh nana,” I sing along off key, in a pseudo growly voice that makes me giggle. I’m going to turn the corner, make myself some ramen, then finish the episode of love island I’ve been watching. Except that’s not what happens.

“He got tha-” I cut myself off with a scream, seeing a stranger in the hall way. He looks up. I scream more, way more, and choke out, “JFK’s left fucking tiddy!”, because this dude is either the best freaking cosplayer ever, or those tiktok reality shifting tutorials actually worked at some point.

He looks too natural, too organic. The level of detail and strategic imperfection is beyond conscious choice. There’s no way he’s a cosplayer that broke into my house. Also, that would be a super weird crime.

Either way, I’m standing in front of a dude who looks exactly like Leo Valdez.

It feels… fake.

I didn’t really notice I’m covering my mouth with my hand to stop my hysterical scream laughs, but I’m able to get it under control after a second.

He’s looking at me, eyes wide, examining me, probably wondering why I’m acting so erratically. Or why I just spat out such strange bullshit. In my defense, I’ve been watching chaotic tiktok compilations inbetween updating my blog for like, two days straight. Three other people round the corner. I don’t know what I expected, and it shouldn’t have been a surprise at this point, but I’m sure I’m looking no other than at Percy Jackson, Annabeth Chase, and Piper Mclean.

“Jesus fucking christ, fuck me with a chainsaw!” I spit, retreating into the kitchen, reminding myself that while they are my favorite characters - and again, somehow real and in front of me? - they’re still technically intruders. I grab the nearest kitchen implement, a pair of red kitchen scissors I’d used to hack open the ramen packet, and point it at them.

“Woah,” Piper says, “it’s okay, we’re not going to hurt you.” I count to four and breathe in, setting the scissors back down within arms reach. Hold for seven, exhale for eight. I repeated the process again, watching Annabeth whispering to Leo.

I can feel the initial freak out subsiding. I’m starting to calm down a little.

“We’re not going to hurt you,” Piper repeats. Well duh, they’re the good guys. A spike of pure what the fuck shoots through me, as I realize I’m already adapting to the fact that fictional fucking characters are standing in my kitchen. Leo’s ignoring Annabeth, and still staring at me, searching my eyes for... something.

Piper’s brow furrows. I call past Piper to Annabeth.

“Yeah, hi op, what the fuck?” They all have a silent conversation for a minute, and I continue, “Anyone want to tell my why the fuck fic-”

“We can tell you what’s going on, but it’s going to sound crazy.” Piper starts.

“After the past five minutes, probably not.” I glance past her shoulder, Leo’s still examining me. I look away, overwhelmed almost immediately. About 30% of my brain is just an endless loop of ‘ohmygodohmygodohmygod he’s real??? Like,,,, r e a l real????? Aj;dlfkajskdla ohmygod he’s looking at me what the fuck richard’, 20% was still trying to calm down from freaking out so much earlier, so I was at about half brain power for the conversation ahead.

“Okay, wait. Let me get this straight.” they stare at me in silence. We’re standing in the hallway outside the kitchen, and I feel like a complete disaster trying to process what they’re telling me and not look like a total idiot.

“So, Calypso went missing, and Leo got Aphrodite to activate his soulmate link so he can find her and it led you here?” I’m already smiling. There’s no chance, I can’t get my hopes up.

Piper continues, “Which means it might not be Calypso.”

“Unless you’re wearing a really good disguise or something,” Leo says. I’m pretty sure that’s the first time he’s spoken to me. I let out a breathy laugh and look away from him. If I try to look at him my brain goes haywire. Scenes from stuff I’ve written about him on my tumblr flash in my mind, and it makes me feel like I’m about to explode.

“Yeah, the reason we know is-”

“The gods are real, monsters are after you, et cetera et cetera. Yeah.” They seem a little surprised that I’m more concerned with the soulmate part than the mythology part, but I’ve been reading these books since middle school. We been knew.

Piper keeps looking between Leo and me with a weird look on her face. God, Piper, don’t get my hopes up. A knowing look passes over her face and she looks around the room again.

“Gods, where did he go…” She gets up and leaves the room. No one says anything. Between right then and when she gets back should have been in a ‘top ten most devastating anime uncomfortable silences’ compilation. She enters again a few seconds later, a tall hot guy behind her. He has red flowers in his hair and isn’t wearing a shirt for some reason. He looks between me and Leo.

“I see… interesting.” he turns to me and says, “Can you tell me anything… personal about him?” My face flushes. I turn to Piper.

“Sorry, but who the fuck?”

“I mean the only noncanon stuff I know is what I came up with for like, writing and stuff but that doesn’t count-” I sputter.

“Eros.” she replies, “My mom sent him along to help find the right person.”

“Normally I’d be able to tell instantly, but my powers don’t seem to work here very well.” his voice is like honey, and it seems like he’s heavily implying something no matter what he says.

“Yeah, go on hermosa,” Leo says, smirking, “take a whack at it.” His voice sounds so much more… real than I could have imagined. If I could verbally keysmash, I would have then and there.

“Hmm… why don’t you try anyway. What kind of lover is he?” the room erupts into protests. They don’t want to hear personal stuff about their friend, I don’t want to talk about cripplingly embarrassing smut headcanons in front of the character they’re about, and he probably doesn’t want me taking a wild guess at his bedroom habits. Eros turns to Percy, Annabeth, and Piper.

“You two, out. You, leave but stay close.” They leave the room hastily.

“Since I’m the god of sexual desire, I know what gets people going. I’ll be able to tell if you’re right or not. ” Eros says. I risk a glance at Leo, who I have a feeling has been staring at me a lot. He leans forward, playful intrigue all over him. How is he not dying inside??

“Ah ah,” Eros says to Leo, “you too.” Leo obliges, and heads up the stairs.

“H- okay, uh… he acts like a top, but he’s really kind of a bottom,” I choke out, trying to remember details from past posts, and Eros nods in approval, encouraging me to keep going, “he’s really-” my voice falters, and I hide my head in my hands, “he’s really vocal, like really vocal… uh…”

“Oh yes, I can tell.” Eros says, and I laugh slightly. “What else?”

“More? God okay… uh… he really likes hickeys, and-” I choke on my words, still unsure of how I got in this situation.

“He holds hands a lot in… the bedroom? God…” I trail off.

“The next morning, he kind of… he just sort of stares at you while you get dressed and stuff. I don’t know anyone else who does that.”

Eros studies me for a second. My heart is beating so hard. How long does it take to say yes or no? I’m uncomfortably aware of the distracting adrenaline in my arms and chest and head.

“Interesting,” he says, then stands up and leaves the room.

What the fuck, is he not going to tell me anything?

I’m listening as closely as I can, and I’m pretty sure I hear Eros say five out of five. I got everything right or everything wrong. Nailed it or failed it.

Piper speeds past me a second later and races up the stairs. After a few seconds she comes back down. She nods toward the staircase.

“You should go talk to him.” a knowing smile is playing at the corner of her mouth, and I can’t stop one from starting on mine. I run up the stairs, and see him, kneeling on my bed, reading what’s on my laptop.

Oh god, no.

He stands up. He’s staring at me so intensely, I look away immediately. I start sputtering out a panicked apology and sit down on my bed, moving to shut the lid of my laptop.

“Uh… I just listen to a song or something that makes me think of you,” my voice gets really tiny at that last part, “and stuff starts to pop into my head. I just keep replaying it, and uncovering more details so I can wr- wait,” I start to look up at him, but can’t bring myself to meet his eyes. I stare intensely at the pattern on my quilt instead. “Did you say remember?” He lets out a breathy laugh, and I can hear the smile in his voice.

“-of course I never thought you were going to read any of that, or…” His hand is on top of mine, my hand and voice freezing at the same time.

“How… did you remember all this?” my fears are being squashed. He doesn’t sound mad, or grossed out, or judgemental. He sounds… impressed.

“Yeah, I mean, I’m only starting to get back bits and pieces, but you remember… everything.”

“Wait wait…” I mutter, completely dazed, “so it wasn’t… it was all real?” I feel him nodding behind me, and he makes a noise of agreement.

“It was genius, really… as soon as I felt like I was remembering something, I’d forget it.” His other hand rests on my shoulder, palm flat against my back. “Only you would think to write it like that…”

“So… it all happened?” I breathe, my face heating up as I think of the titles marked with a little asterisk.

“Yeah,” I bite my lip, feeling his breath over my skin. It’s quiet for a second. The mattress shifts and I can feel him leaning closer to me, feel the heat coming off his body. His lips are dangerously close to my ear.

“Want something else to write about?”

Oh my fucking god.

I nod before I finish registering what he said. His free hand moves to my cheek, tilting my face towards him, and my skin explodes with sparks where he touches me.

Our lips brush.

We both freeze.

Flood gates open. Countless vivid images and feelings and scenarios flash across my mind. It was like watching a movie connecting every fic I’ve written. I gasp-laugh a little, and he does the same. It seems like the visions or whatever that he’s seeing are a lot more intense than mine. His eyes flutter open and he looks at me stronger, more intensely, more passionately than he had before. He lets out a soft, breathy laugh, and presses his lips to mine. Everywhere he touches feels carbonated, and I’m trying not to smile too much. I don’t think I’ve ever been more in the moment than right this second. He pulls me closer, tilting his head and deepening the kiss. I didn’t know a kiss could be deeper than it had been a few seconds ago. His mouth moves feverishly against mine. My arms move up on instinct, one hand playing with his hair, the other tracing the collar of his shirt. He shifts his weight, and one hand on my waist, lowers me back onto my bed. His left hand intertwines with my right, and I smile, remembering what I had told Eros earlier.

“Estrella,” He groans into my mouth, our teeth scraping as we smile in spite of ourselves, and I get the sense the nickname was an ‘as you wish’ type of thing, from the Princess Bride. It feels like he’s saying I love you. My heart speeds up as he nuzzles into my neck, pressing kisses and little bites into my skin. I think about the nickname I always thought would suit him, the one I kept writing down over and over. Now or never.

“Sparky…” I smile, hiding my face in his hair. He freezes for a second, then lets out that breathy laugh again, his face in my neck. His lips graze my collarbone, and he starts to say something, but the door opens suddenly, and we jump apart. It doesn’t help much though, because he’s still hovering over me on all fours and we both look very flushed. And I’m pretty sure the start of a hickey is forming on my neck.

“Right,” she replies, “we gotta get going, the door is closing soon, so come down stairs as soon as you’re… free.”

“Sorry!” Annabeth yells, averting her eyes. Leo and I stumble over each other’s flustered responses.

“-looks bad but nothing… happened… we d- we didn’t like, do anything...” I trail off.

The door closes.

“I’m coming with you guys?” I breathe. He looks over at me, that unflappable sense of playfulness present as ever.

Leo sits back, scratching the back of his neck.

“Yeah, we should get back soon. Everyone else will be worried once they remember.” My heart plummets. I didn’t know you could go from feeling so incredibly euphoric to beyond miserable in about five seconds. I open my mouth to choke out a response, but before I can, he stands up and stretches a little.

“Do you wanna change before we go?” The question has such a normal tone to it, it’s a little bizarre after all the unusual things that have happened today. The bad feeling and tears at the corners of my eyes start to recede.

“Of course you are. If you think I’m losing you again this soon you’re crazier than I am.” I let out a relieved laugh, and stand up. I look down at my monster foot slippers and sweatpants.

“You know where to find me,” he winks before closing the door on his way out.

“Yeah, I should probably change.” He pulls me close to him, one hand comes up to the back of my neck, the other on my hip. He starts swaying us back and forth, dancing around my room.

“Well, if you need any help…” I laugh, and shove him away playfully.

I take a second to catch my breath. Oh my god. Thoughts are still racing in the back of my mind, but I don’t pay attention. I don’t have time to worry about what’s real and what’s not, I need to find the perfect demigod adventure outfit. I throw open my closet, start shuffling through dresser drawers, digging through my shoes. I don’t remember having one or two of the pieces, but after a minute, I find exactly what I’m looking for. It’s the exact outfit I’d always imagined myself in if I ever went to camp half blood. I search through my accessories, grab a bag, and hastily fill it with anything I think I’ll probably need. I turn back to my laptop, and change my blog description to on hiatus. I check my hair, flattening out the back from before, and determine I’m ready to go.

I walk down the stairs, and everyone’s watching me. I feel like it’s prom or something, which sounds silly since I’ve got on ripped jeans and a backpack instead of a dress and clutch. Leo’s watching me with that look, the one that makes his eyes all sparkly, and he meets me at the bottom of the stairs. He puts his arm around my shoulder.

“Ready to go home, Estrella?”

I have never been more ready for anything.

#Leo Valdez #leo x reader #leo valdez x reader #heroes of olympus #heroes of olympus x reader #leo valdez imagine #heroes of olympus imagine

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junikshanasar · 4 years ago

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Tokyo Manji Revengers - Read it!

Okay, so I feel this manga series is only just starting to blow-up, cause the anime came out?? Well that’s definitely how I found out about it - saw a clip on YouTube of a character called Mikey and I was like darn, I like this character, lemme try this series. The summary was way surprising when I read it for the first time, but let me tell you, I absolutely love reading this manga!

Came for Mikey, stayed for everyone else (especially Chifuyu, love that guy).

Basically, our mc, Hanagaki Takemichi (I put last names first, it just feels right when the names are Japanese), finds out on the news that his ex-girlfriend and her brother, Tachibana Hinata and Tachibana Naoto, have died because of the Tokyo Manji Group, a huge, powerful, and no-good gang. Just before getting run over by a train, he finds himself sent back 12 years into the past, where a careless remark to Naoto ends up changing the future, to one where Naoto survives.

From there, Takemichi makes it his goal to save Hinata, through altering the past in order to change the course of the future. How? By entering the ranks of the Tokyo Manji Group!

Okay so, I got sucked into this almost right away. You can’t help but cheer for Takemichi, and his relationship with Hinata is adorable. Everyone, and I mean everyone is likeable. The bad guys are irritating and menacing, and the fights are so badass!

Of course, it is shounen, so everyone is all about getting strong and making comrades. The story is rather dramatic, with some corny parts here and there, and you kinda got to remind yourself these are all kids. Like, middle schoolers and high schoolers.

But the manga does not at all shy away from the darker sides of the world. It takes itself seriously. The artstyle fits the mood perfectly, and looks good.

And wow, the relationships between the characters are heartwarming and emotional. Backstories are actually interesting, and you can see where everyone is coming from. Watching Takemichi grow to care for everyone is done so wonderfully that the typical “I’m going to save everyone” mindset is one you understand, and really want him to accomplish.

The emotion and tension is poignant, and I legit couldn’t stop reading to the point that I binged the entire 200+ chapters available in a little under two days (o′┏▽┓｀o)

The series is still ongoing, and I read it weekly. The only other manga I read weekly instead of bookmarking and wait for chapters to pile up is Boku no Hero Academia, so that should be an indicator of how much fun I had reading it. Going through all the ups and downs with Takemichi and experiencing everything he experiences ensures your heart soars when things go right, and pains when things don’t.

I know a couple people who have dropped it? A lot of them are people who dislike Takemichi as an mc, because he’s very emotional, essentially a crybaby, and not physically strong compared to other characters in fights. That’s basically his entire character though, so don’t go expecting him to become some op guy who beats everyone up and always gets his way. Personally, I really like the way he is, and that his character changes are not physical, but mental and emotional. Underdogs are much more inspiring, after all.

I’m glad he never has any real ‘training arcs’ that all of a sudden make him super powerful. All his strength comes from his heart, and that’s what makes him so appealing and charismatic not only to me, but to the people around him as well.

There are also a couple of people upset with the newest arc/development in the story (which starts around chapter 200+, which is where I’ve caught up), but I kinda saw it coming. I don’t want to include any spoilers in this review, so I might make a separate post later on why I saw this arc coming.

Anyway, I hope this review made you even a little curious! It’s obviously not everyone’s cup of tea, nothing truly is, but I super recommend it!

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wiypt-writes · 4 years ago

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Stark Spangled Banner

Ch 1. Back Into The Field

Intro: Picking up a few months on from the events of Stark Spangled Man, Katie finds herself on desk bound duty following a disciplinary for ignoring Fury’s orders. But when she’s finally released, and disaster strikes on the first mission she’s run in months, she kinda wishes she’d stayed there.

Warnings: Bad language, mentions of blood, injury, angst and a minor character death.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Katie Stark

A/N: So here we go. A relaunch of SSB thanks to my other blog being flagged. For those of you who are new, welcome! I hope you enjoy. And to all you current Stark Spangled Readers, welcome back, You might spot a few subtle differences as we go through, as things I’m not happy with have been rewritten but don’t worry, nothing will impact the mine lines in the hot mess that is Stark and Rogers.

As always, please leave your comments or send me messages, asks, anything. I love you all!

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

March 2013.

Any doctor would cry if they visited SHIELD; the caffeine and alcohol intake of pretty much every worker there would way exceed a dose construed to be healthy. Mind you, if you asked any agent whether they’d give up coffee or alcohol, they’d say alcohol in a heartbeat.

Well, most of them.

Katie couldn’t imagine surviving without an ice cold beer on a hot summer’s day, but she also didn’t function until she had her morning cup of Joe. It was a tough choice to make.

Not today though, she needed coffee. And lots of it. After ‘going rogue’ to chase the Mandarin with her brother, month’s later Fury was still pissed and as such was basically giving her the most boring thing he could think of- working through piles of mission reports to analyse and cross reference with others to pick up on common threads .To be honest, she didn’t mind it too much. After the excitement of the festive period she had welcomed a relatively quiet return to work, and didn’t particularly give a shit what Fury thought about her either.

She circling a part of the hard copy of the report she was working on with highlighter pen, before glancing back at her computer screen to cut and paste it into the Scrapbook App she used to trace trends with, letting out a groan. Who was she kidding? Desk duty sucked ass.

*****

Steve’s morning wasn’t going much better.

Whilst he wasn’t desk bound, after a particularly gruelling Ops Training session during which one of the newest kids suffered a broken nose after colliding painfully with a stray shock baton, he was almost wishing he was. Following a quick debrief, he checked his schedule on his phone and found he was free now for the rest of the day so he showered and headed up to find Katie. He found her in her office, paper in her hand as she stared at her computer screen, eyes narrowed. Steve watched her for a moment, taking in the way her nose crinkled as she read something, her bottom lip being dragged under her top teeth as she continued her work, completely unaware he was there. With a groan she dropped the notes she’d been holding to the desk and ran her hand through her dark hair.

Steve felt he was interrupting something, even though he knew he wasn’t, but he also didn’t want to appear like he’d been watching her either, which he totally had. So he gave a little cough and, as she turned round, her pretty face cracking into a smile which he returned.

“Hey! How was training?”

“Don’t ask.” He let out a snort.

“That bad huh?”

“In a fashion.” He nodded, leaning on the door frame. “You had lunch?”

“Nope.”

“Wanna come get some?”

She nodded instantly “God yes. Can we get FroYo after?”

“Yeah but don’t let me pile it with all that crap this time!” he shot her his best playfully disapproving look as he remembered his first trip the Frozen Yoghurt stall. He had loaded his with all sorts of different things and the result had been beyond foul.

Katie gave a laugh and picked up her jacket, shrugging it on. Standing up straight, he moved to allow her to step through the door and followed her to the elevator.

“Stick to chocolate chip, mint and cookie dough.” She said, stepping into it. “Trust me.”

They strode across the foyer and into the early spring sun. Katie pulled her jacket tighter around herself as they crossed the street, shivering a little in the cool breeze.

“How are you just wearing a shirt?” she looked at Steve as he fell into step besides her, making sure he was on the side nearest the road. He noticed that she’d long since given up chiding him on this old fashioned habit after he had revealed it was something he used to do for his mom too, and Bucky’s younger sister. In fact, today, he swore he saw something that looked like a soft smile flicker on her lips when he positioned himself on her left, but as quick as he noticed it, it was gone.

“It’s not too bad.” He grinned. “I’ve been through worse.” He opened the door to the Deli for her and followed her in as they took their place in the queue. After a moment or two he became aware that she was looking at him.

“What?” he asked, turning to her exasperatedly. Katie couldn’t help but grin, she enjoyed winding the usually mild mannered man up

“I’m trying to imagine how you would look with a beard. And with shorter hair.” she mused, causing the Captain to roll his eyes.

“Not gonna happen.”

“What the hair cut or the beard?”

“Neither.”

“Spoil sport.”

“Captain America doesn’t have a beard.” he shook his head.

“No but, Steve Rogers could…”

She was impossible, but Steve couldn’t help but want to laugh. This playfulness was the thing that he enjoyed the most, how she could just treat him like any other punk she knew.

“Did anyone ever tell you you’re exhausting?” he rolled his eyes, a smirk playing on his face as she stepped forward in the queue.

“Yeah, you.” she spun round to face him, grinning “Several times. But you still come back for more.”

“Well I have the distinct impression if I didn’t you’d hunt me down anyway”

They ordered and ate their lunch, Steve filling her in on the ops drill and after Fro-Yo they made arrangements to slob out that evening at his with a film. They walked back to the Triskellion where Katie headed back to her office to continue sifting through the Mount Everest of reports she had to do. As with anything, once she got the bit between her teeth, she completely zoned out. It was only when she heard a gabble of voices all bidding each other goodbye that she looked up from her work. It was dark outside, and past six.

“Shit.” she groaned as the realisation washed over her. She was supposed to be at Steve’s for half past. She clicked to save her work whilst calling him at the same time, phone sandwiched between her cheek and shoulder.

“So…I’m running late.” She apologised the instant he answered. He chuckled.

“I thought that you said the one good thing about being confined to desk duties was that you set the hours.”

“Yeah, well I got caught up in something, but I’m leaving now. Do you want me to grab pizza on the way?”

“Sounds good, not Chicago Style though. I’m hankering for a proper piece of pie.”

“God you’re such a New Yorker.” She rolled her eyes.

“You say it like it’s a bad thing.” His voice took on a mock hurt tone and she could imagine him pouting on the other end of the phone.

“Hmmm, I’m undecided. Right, I’m leaving now. See you soon.”

“Drive safe.”

“What are you my dad?” she snorted at his stern instruction.

“Old enough to be.” he shot back.

“Touche.” she sniggered, cutting the call

*******

“Boring New York style for Mr S Rogers…” she spoke into the intercom at the main door to Steve’s apartment complex and he buzzed her in. By the time she’d climbed the stairs to his floor he was waiting, leaning on the door frame.

“Bout time.” He muttered, taking the boxes off her “Was about to send a search party.”

“Mario’s was packed.” Katie said, kicking off her sneakers and heading straight through to his kitchen to grab a beer out of his fridge without waiting for him to offer, knowing he wouldn’t. He didn’t need to.

Steve headed into the living room, depositing the thee boxes on the coffee table before he sank onto the couch and reached straight in for one of the pepperoni slices. A few moments later Katie flopped down next to him, handing him a beer.

“What we ticking off the list tonight?” she asked.

“A Few Good Men.” he said, nodding at the TV where he had queued the movie up ready.

“Wait, did you manage to navigate that Android box all by yourself?” She looked at him and he sighed.

“I’m not completely useless ya know.”

“Jury’s out.” she teased, curling her legs up onto the sofa next to her.

They watched the movie. Steve got most of the references within it. He chuckled in the right places, and laughed out loud when Katie was unable to stop herself uttering the immortal line You can’t handle the truth. When the credits began to roll, Katie unfolded herself from where she had been sat and they launched into Steve’s favourite part of Movie Nights- the post film analysis.

“Who was the guy who played the colonel, Jessup?” he looked at her.

“Jack Nicholson. Amazing actor. He’s in a few on your list.”

“He was good. And I know he was supposed to be the good guy so to speak but Kaffee annoyed me a little. He was so arrogant.”

“He reminds me of Tony” Katie sniggered.

“Well, I didn’t want to say anything” Steve gave a little smirk and Katie shrugged.

“I get what you mean though. He is an ass, and it pisses me off a little the romance angle they take with him and Galloway. I mean, she’s portrayed as this strong woman, in the male dominated military woman and they still have to go there.”

“It does seem to be a tried and tested format.” Steve nodded, leaning back against the cushions on his couch “Boy meets girl, boy likes girl, boy wins girl over…even the movies I saw back in before I took a sub-zero nap were the same.”

“I suppose it appeals to the hopeless romantic in all of us.” Katie shrugged.

They continued to chat for a bit longer until Katie glanced at her watch, and seeing the time, decided to call it a night. Steve walked her down to her car, he always did without fail, another thing she had given up chiding him for and when he came back upstairs and got in the shower, he found himself straying back to the first time he had seen her, the minute she had stepped into the light in the boxing gym and he’d found himself looking into the greenest eyes he had ever seen in his life.

The more he stood there in the stream of hot water, thinking about her, the more he started to feel something…well…different. And he couldn’t put his finger on it. Was it that he found her attractive? Well of course he did. To be honest, he reckoned you’d have to be blind not to. And if he was totally honest, since he’d seen her the first time in that little boxing gym in New York he had noticed how pretty she was. She had the figure of the stars of his time. Hour glass waist, brunette hair, shapely ass and legs and quite large breasts considering she was so slim. But what did it for him were her eyes. Deep, sparkling emeralds that he could lose himself in quite happily. And that smile, that fucking smile that could make him stop in his tracks when she flashed it.

But it was more than just that, she was…well…just Katie.

It was strange, really, she reminded him so much of Peggy in some ways, but in others she was so different. Both were vivacious, smart, strong willed and beautiful. But where Peggy had been harsh, after a military upbringing, Katie had a softer edge to her. She was still ferocious at times, but she was a people person, and somehow knew exactly how to explain and understand what he was trying to say even when he struggled to himself. She made him feel at ease. With that in mind it wasn’t surprising they had grown so close. He could trust her and knew that she would do anything for him because she was a good person. And she made it so easy to be around, he didn’t feel a shred of awkwardness around her.

He hadn’t thought he’d ever find himself a friend he could be as honest and open with again, one he would happily lay his life on the line for, not just out of a sense of duty but out of a sense of love and friendship.

Who you trying to kid, Rogers?

He knew his feelings went deeper than that. All those times he’d felt irritation at other men looking at her or touching her, all those times he’d looked at her and just wanted to smile because she was just her… the fear he had felt when he had known she was off chasing the Mandarin and he wasn’t able to help…none of that was anything to do with mere friendship.

He leaned his forehead against the tiles of the shower cubicle and groaned. He was crushing on his best friend.

He was so fucked. *******

Katie’s desk arrest didn’t last much longer. Two weeks later she was catapulted back into the field, on what was supposed to be a simple op, simple by SHIELD standards, anyway. They had a request from the Cuban government – all very hush, hush, of course –to take down a drug lord who ran a cartel SHIELD had tangled with last year.

Katie, in her role as Mission Analyst, read the files and all the intel, pulled together a briefing and delivered it, answering questions that came her way from the team and then handed over to Steve when it was his turn to take the floor. He started issuing out his orders, and informed everyone that the three newest recruits would be joining them as it would be a fairly straight forward op to ease them into.

And it had been, for the most part, until one of those new recruits, Jack Adams, had frozen mid fire fight and as a consequence he’d taken three bullets to the chest. Which shouldn’t have been an issue given the armour they all wore. But when the man failed to get up, Katie knew there was something very, very wrong.

“Adams is down!” she loudly spoke into her radio as she took aim at the hostile responsible. As soon as she was sure the round she had let off had hit her target, she broke cover to get to Adams, as she was closest to him. She skidded to the floor, pressing her hand to his chest and her other reached to his face, turning it to look at her.

“I got you, Adams, look at me.” she urged gently, her hand warm, wet and slick with the young man’s blood. Steve dropped besides her and she turned to face him.

“Armour piercing rounds.” She shook her head. “Steve, I can’t stop the bleeding.” Her tone left the Captain in no doubt as to how worried she was and he looked around frantically for help.

“Medic, NOW! We need emergency evac…”

“Stay with us, Jack.” Katie reached into her belt and retrieved a tab of morphine as he young man’s hand gripped her other whilst she administered the pain relief.

“Son, you’re gonna be fine.” Steve spoke and Adams’ horrified eyes turned to Steve. The soldier swallowed, fighting to keep his face calm. He’d seen that expression so many times on the battle field, the one that told him the man who lay injured knew he was injured beyond repair, that there was nothing to be done for him. But this was now seventy years into the future, medical science had worked so many wonders since then, they had to be able to do something, right?

“RUMLOW WHERE THE FUCK IS THAT MEDIC?” Katie screamed, her tone frantic.

“Still got hostiles on us!” Rumlow replied over the coms. “Evans has taken four down but they’re approaching from the right! We need to cover the medics in and now you’re down there…”

Steve instantly looked round before he looked back at Katie “We’ll have to take him ourselves”

She bit her lip, looking at the young man, then up to Steve again. Everything in their training told them not to move casualties, but Steve knew if they stayed here he was going to bleed out. Katie seemed to come to the same conclusion and she nodded.

“Alright. Brock, we’re coming to you. Have the medics prep the bay on the jet.. Evans, we need top cover.”

“Roger, Cap…”

“Jack, we’re gonna move you now.” Katie looked at him, her voice calm and level as besides her, Steve moved to take the injured man into a lift over his shoulder. Once he had him positioned, he gave a small jerk of his head and Katie picked up his shield in one hand, and her pistol in the other as they broke cover, sprinting across the front of the industrial yard towards the jet. In the corner of his eye, Steve spotted two hostiles moving but before he could shout a warning, Katie had fired off two shots, the thumps and lack of returning fire meaning each bullet had hit its target. Soon they were joined by Rumlow and Rollins who flanked them up the ramp where Katie dropped Steve’s shield to the floor with a clang and offered her hand back to Adams as Steve placed him gently on the stretcher.

“It’s gonna be ok.” Katie soothed him as the medics bustled around, her eyes glancing up every so often to watch what they were doing.

“Can you tell my mom I love her and, and my dad.” Adams was mumbling now and Katie shook her head.

“You can tell them yourself.” She told him fiercely. “You’ll be fine, I promise.”

“We’re locked down outside, local authorities are handling it now.” Rumlow informed Steve who had stepped back from where Katie was knelt by the injured man. “How is he?”

Steve turned to Rumlow, shaking his head sadly. “Not good. He lost a lot of blood.”

At that point Katie suddenly drew back slightly, looking at the hand held in hers, before she glanced at the medic who was sadly shaking his head. Katie’s shoulders slumped as her eyes closed, face screwing up into a pained expression and Steve pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and middle finger as he realised that the young man had lost his final fight.

“Shit.” Rumlow muttered.

“Radio base” Steve turned to Rumlow his voice soft “Let’s get him home.”

*******

Writing mission reports wasn’t Katie’s favourite thing to do, but this one was awful. So she’d treated it like ripping off a band aid, and after a horrific night’s sleep, she’d been at the Triskelion early to get it done. As a result it was little after ten am, she was done for the day and was about to head home until she heard a familiar voice.

“Eat me…eat me…” The voice was accompanied by a bag from her favourite bakery, which was hovering in the space between the door to the office and the frame, before Clint Barton’s head poked round the side, a grin plastered on his face.

“Hey!” She beamed at her friend as he dropped a cup holder containing two coffees and the bag onto her desk before taking a seat, scooting the wheeled chair over the floor towards her.

“Heard you had a rough time of it yesterday so I brought donuts and almond croissants. And coffee.”

“Hawkeye, you are a godsend.” Katie smiled, taking a large drink and leaning back, closing her eyes.

“That the first time you’ve lost a man on a mission?” Clint asked.

“Other than Coulson.” she shrugged. “Shit, Adams was twenty-three Clint. He had his whole life ahead of him.”

Clint watched as she rubbed at her temple before reaching into the bag and pulling out an almond croissant. She couldn’t remember when she had last eaten, it must have at least been before the mission.

“How’s Cap taken it?”

“On the outside he seems okay, but I know he blames himself. Keeps saying he shouldn’t have taken him.” Katie shrugged “He’s gone with Fury to see Adams’ parents. Rather him than me.”

“This job is hard.” Clint said after a moment or two pause. “We fight to keep everyone safe, but y’know, sometimes not everyone makes it. Thing is, if we can’t find a way to deal with that, then maybe next time no one gets saved at all.”

“You mean like Collateral damage?” she snorted, shaking her head.

“No, I mean that everyone one of us that are out in the field know the risks Nova, hell last year 7 of us took on a horde of Aliens in New York. For hours we fought them, and did any of us give a second thought to our own safety? No, because that’s what we do.”

His words made sense. She knew they did, but that didn’t stop the feeling in her stomach that if she had done her research more, maybe she could have spotted something that would have told them about the armour piercing rounds.

*******

Adams’ parents already knew he was dead. Fury had the local authorities call ahead, common practice now, but still, Steve found himself sat on their couch, talking, informing them all about their son’s last moments. They hadn’t shouted, hadn’t screamed or blamed him. Instead, they’d thanked him for what he had done and for bringing him back so they could hold a proper burial.

By the time he got back to base, he was exhausted.

“Here.” Fury handed him a glass of scotch from the bottle he had pulled out of his desk. Steve took it, dropping onto one of the sofas at the side of the large office, Fury settling into the other. Steve knew the drink couldn’t get him drunk, but he liked the momentary buzz he got that lasted all of sixty seconds post sip, and the comforting burn it gave when he swallowed.

The pair of them sat in silence for a few moments before Fury sat forward, his eye fixed on Steve.

“Ever done that before, a death message?” he asked.

“Can’t say I have. Wasn’t really my job back in the day.” Steve shrugged, undoing his tie and popping the top button of his dress shirt.

“Worst part of the job. Doesn’t matter how many times you do it, never gets any easier.” Fury ran his hand over his face, and it struck Steve how tired his boss actually looked.

“Yeah, it isn’t exactly up there with my favourite thing to do.” Steve rolled his tie up and shoved it into the pocket of his old Army uniform pants.

“How’s Nova?” Fury asked.

“She’s upset.” Steve sighed “But she’s strong, she’ll be okay. I’m gonna head over and see how she is later.”

“You two spend a lot of time together outside of work.” Fury commented, innocently enough but there was something in his tone, something that was almost good natured accusation.

“Not a problem is it, Sir?” Steve asked, keeping his face straight.

“No, not at all.” Fury said “Why do you think I partnered you up in the first place? She’s a people person…”

“She’s a good friend.” Steve nodded “We get on.”

“Glad to hear it.” Fury nodded. There was another moment’s pause before he spoke again. “There’s going to be a debrief with the Secretary of Defense tomorrow.”

Steve sighed “If they’re looking to blame someone, the buck stops with me. I should never have taken the kid.”

“Bullshit.” Fury said simply “I’ve read the reports. From what they say, he just froze.”

“He wasn’t experienced enough.”

“Taking risks is part of this job. It’s a dangerous gig.” Fury held his gaze. “It was a straight forward in and out job Captain. What happened was an accident. A tragic one, but an accident none the less. From the reports, neither you nor Stark could have done any more to save his life.”

Steve shrugged, the words were kind but didn’t help him feel any better.

Three glasses of scotch later, Steve shook the director’s hand and left the office, pulling out his phone. He didn’t want to appear like he was checking up on Katie, so he pinged her a text, dressing it up like it was him who needed to see her, which wasn’t a complete lie. He did. He was craving the normality she gave him.

Can I come over? I could do with seeing a friendly face

He read it a few times, before deciding it was casual enough before he sent it. The reply was almost instantaneous.

My door is always open for you. And I made Mac and Cheese. Plenty left.

He couldn’t help but smile. One of the best things about this new life was the food, and her Mac and Cheese was frankly his favourite thing to eat on the planet.

He changed into a pair of sweats and a hoody, hastily making his way to Katie’s penthouse and the smile she gave him when he walked into her place instantly made him feel at ease.

“Hey.” she crossed the space towards him and gave him a hug which he happily melted into, a hug they both needed.

“How did it go?” she asked, pulling away.

“As well as can be expected.” He sighed as he followed her into the kitchen, dropping into the stool on the other side of the breakfast bar. “His mom broke down but they didn’t shout or yell.”

Katie flipped the lid off a beer and handed it to him. He took it, with a nod of thanks and pulled a large swig before he rest his hands on the counter, staring at the bottle.

He was brooding and blaming himself, Katie could tell, so she gently lay her hand on his, reaching over the counter.

“It wasn’t your fault Steve.” she spoke softly and he looked at her.

God, she did that all the time, knew what he was thinking. It gave him the unnerving impression that sometimes she could read his mind.

“I should have spotted that shooter.” he shook his head.

“I’m the fucking mission analyst.” she sighed. “I knew from last time those guys were packing, if I’d done more research, maybe I would have found out about the armour piercing rounds.”

“You can’t seriously blame yourself?” Steve’s frowned.

“Why not?” she shrugged sadly. She’d been over it a million times in her head that day and had come to the same conclusion every time. She should have spotted something, dug further. “I didn’t do my job.”

“Yes, you did.” he implored, his eyes locking onto hers “Your report clearly set out the layout, the learning from previous missions…Adams was just too inexperienced, I should never have taken him.”

There was a pause as the microwave pinged and Katie turned to look at it.

“You know, Clint made a good point before.” she reached in for the plate and the smell of the food made his stomach grumble again as she continued “This job, it’s hard. We fight to keep people safe but not everyone makes it back all the time…and if we can’t learn to live with that then maybe next time no one gets saved.”

“It feels like trading lives.” He took a deep breath as she placed the plate down in front of him “It’s just wrong.”

“I know.” She said, handing him some cutlery and sat down next to him.

“You eaten?” he asked, looking at her, suddenly aware she didn’t have a plate. She nodded.

“Couldn’t have waited until now, I’d have starved to death.” she said, shrugging.

“Hardly.” he replied, mouth full, instantly realising he had said the wrong thing as she narrowed her eyes at him.

“Is that a fat joke?” she asked, making him roll his eyes as he swallowed. That hadn’t been it at all, he was referring to the fact that she never actually stopped eating, despite her tiny frame she gave him a run for his money.

“No, that’s not what I meant. You’re tiny.” he said, almost choking on his food through his protests.

“So now you’re making short jokes?” She shot back. Steve looked at her, dismayed she thought he was being mean to her but then he spotted the look in her eyes and rolled his own.

“Punk.”

“Jerk” she shot back.

It was the perfect way to escape the trauma and stress of the last few days. Once they had finished eating the two of them flopped down on her large L shape sofa, Steve’s legs extended along one side of the L shape, her legs tucked underneath her as she leaned against his shoulder. He couldn’t help but notice the smell of her shampoo…apple, he thought, along with her perfume. Her proximity was making his head buzz but he wasn’t about to move her, the contact was comforting. And it clearly was for her too as about an hour or so into the film- the first in the Lord of The Rings trilogy- he felt her head growing heavy. He glanced down and saw that her eyes were closed and, as he watched, her head slipped slightly. He shifted so that he could catch her gently, and grabbed a cushion from behind him, placing it against his leg. He manoeuvred her head so that she was lay down, gently brushing her hair off her face. She stirred slightly, snuggling down further into the cushion as he absentmindedly rubbed between her shoulder blades as her breathing grew gentle and even.

Steve stayed like that, engrossed in the film right to the end, surprisingly. He had enjoyed it. Katie hadn’t woken up, and he looked down debating whether or not to wake her or simply carry her through to her bedroom. In the end he decided to do neither, instead he reached for the remote as he sifted through to find something else to watch. He didn’t want to leave just yet, he was too comfy and too at ease. Picking one of his favourites, Casablanca, he settled down, getting himself comfy as he immersed himself in the familiar world of Rick’s Café Americain. At one point he felt his eyes growing heavy and he lay his head back, deciding to rest them for just a little while…

**** Katie was jolted awake, quite violently, and as she jerked into an upright position she saw exactly why. Steve was thrashing in his sleep, his face contorted in horror, small murmurs and whimpers slipping from his plump lips. She placed both her hands on his shoulder and shook him. Softly at first, then a bit stronger, trying to rouse him.

“Steve…” she gave him a harsher shake and his eyes flew open, wide in panic and she reached up to cup his face in her hands. “Hey, it’s okay. It was just a dream.”

Her soft voice filled Steve’s senses and, as he realised where he was and whose eyes were looking at him, he took a shaky breath and lay his head back.

Damned it, he’d fallen asleep and had a nightmare. On her sofa.

“Sorry,” he said, his voice croaky, “I err…”

“Don’t apologise, it’s fine.” Katie shook her head gently “I’ll get you a glass of water.”

Whilst she was gone he leaned forward, swinging his legs off the couch so his feet touched the floor, wiping his clammy head with his hands, the memory still flashing through his dream.

Cold air was blasting his hair back…there was a hole in the side of the train…then a flash of light and Bucky flew straight through the hole. “BUCKY…” he yelled, grabbing onto the side of the train, the bar in one hand as he stretched to reach his friend with the other.

“Steve…” The voice was louder, but not loud enough. No, he had to get to Bucky…

But he was gone, Steve was grasping at nothing but air.

Just a dream, Katie had said. It was anything but…

She appeared back in the room with a glass of water and he thanked her as she passed it to him. He took a large gulp, swallowing and was relieved when his breathing began returning to normal.

“You ok?” she asked, kindly as her hand gently knotted into his, her concern evident.

“Yeah, just a nightmare.” he nodded softly “I’ve not had one for a while.”

“Understandable with what’s happened. Wanna tell me what it was about?”

“It was Bucky.” he swallowed thickly “I was replaying the moment he fell. The moment he plummeted to his death from that Hydra train and I didn’t save him.”

Katie stayed silent for a moment before her hand curled round Steve’s shoulder and she pulled him to her, causing him to lay his head on her shoulder. “You know it wasn’t your fault.”

“I should have done more” The guilt ate Steve up every day, that he had survived. Why had he deserved that any more than Bucky?

“How?” she said again. “How could you have done anymore?”

"I should have gone after him.” he said quietly.

“What would’ve changed if you had?” Katie asked. “There’s no way he could have survived that fall.”

“He wouldn’t have been there if it wasn’t for me.“ He replied, "I should have gone after him, brought him home, done something.”

Katie remained quiet, her hand gently running through his hair which was nice, far too nice. He took a deep breath and sat up moving away from her touch.

"What time is it?”

“Nearly six in the morning” Katie glanced at her watch.

“You’re kidding?” Steve snorted.

“Nope. You want some coffee?” she stood up, stretching her arms above her head.

“Yeah if that’s ok.” he replied, following her to the kitchen. From her body language he could tell she was rolling her eyes, even if she wasn’t facing him.

“I don’t know if your Ma ever told you, but it’s rude to run out on a girl after you spend the night with her.”

“And as you know, I’m useless with women.” he sat down at the barstool on the breakfast bar. He watched her, but he didn’t say anything as she bustled about, throwing some bread in the toaster and then went to the fridge for the butter, marmalade and jam, sliding them onto the island. At that point Steve held his hands up.

“You don’t have to-” he started to say, but she silenced him with a glare, similar to the ones Peggy used to give him, the look that could stop him in his tracks it was that stern.

“Shut up.” she poured them both a cup of the coffee before adding milk and a spoon of sugar to each, passing one to him. The bread popped up from the toaster, and she put it on a plate before sliding it over to him and adding more bread to the machine.

His stomach rumbled and he gave in, smearing butter over his toast. He eyed the jam curiously. He’d had marmalade before but…

He looked at Katie and she nodded. “It’s good.”

So he added some, and after a bite he concluded she was right, and nodded in agreement. Once the next round of toast was done she sat next to him.

“So, when did I fall asleep.” she asked, swallowing her food.

“About an hour into the film.”

She shook her head “What an ass…”

“It wasn’t a problem.” He replied honestly as he took a bite of his breakfast. “To be honest I enjoyed it.”

“What, me drooling on your leg?”

He swallowed, his eyes wide “I meant the film.”

“I know.” she smirked.

***** Chapter 2

**Original Posting**

#stark spangled banner #relaunch #steve rogers #steve rogers fanfiction #katie stark #steve rogers x ofc #steve rogers x original female character

144 notes · View notes

wulfies-kpop-fanfics · 4 years ago

Text

One Photo → Mark Lee [5]

↳ Pairing: Mark Lee/Reader

↳ AU: Soulmate!AU - The first touch of two soulmates permanently scars their bodies.

↳ Warning: Smut, loss of virginity, unprotected sex

↳ Word count: 6,964

↳ Chapters: Prelude | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | You Are Here! | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9

⁙ Summary: For an end of the year photography project, you’re tasked with taking a photograph for your favourite group, NCT127, and coincidentally, discover your soulmate.

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

FRIDAY - 5 - Part 1

The covers that enveloped you were warm and soft, keeping you nearly trapped under the weight of a thick duvet. Time ticked by slowly as you found the most comfortable position in bed.

Mark's body was pressed taut against you, and you could feel nearly every inch of him attached to your backside. His arm was draped over you, his hand casually coming to rest over your tummy, only he had put in the lazy effort of slipping it underneath your nightshirt.

Even when Mark is asleep he's driving you crazy. You doubt he's even noticed that your skin is twitching under his touch, the comfort and warmth of blankets making every feeling warmer and sensitive. You feel his steady breath tickling the back of your neck, his pelvis pressed against your ass, and you let out a whimper when he adjusts himself.

"(Y/N)?" Mark's voice is groggy and filled with sleep. He grips your hip gently, fingers sliding over the flesh of your side. "Are you okay?"

"What would you do if I told you no?" You ask sheepishly, turning around in bed so you were facing him. The darkness of your room left a lot to the imagination, but you could still slightly make out his twinkling eyes. Again, you felt like he was staring straight at your soul.

"Then I'd ask why you're not okay," he says, and you can tell he's smiling at you. His hands are beginning to wander up your body, from your hip to your waist.

"You, silly. I can't get you out of my head. Everything you do sets my heart on fire - I can't sleep or study, I-" another whimper escapes you when you feel his index finger gently flick your nipple.

"You do the same to me," he admits. "I can barely keep my hands off you. You're intoxicating…" his hand slides away from your breast, running down your arm to grasp your hand. "Here," he guides you down to tuck your hand underneath the pant line of his sweats, his member hard and hot. You circled your hand around it and Mark sighed in relief.

You suck in a sharp breath. "Mark,"

"Don't talk," he commanded lowly. "Just kiss me, please,"

Through the darkness, your lips met in a wet kiss. His hips thrust into your hand, causing him to groan and separate from the kiss so he could rest his forehead against yours.

"Good," he groaned, closing his eyes tightly and licking his lips. "Fuck, grip it harder."

As soon as you comply and tighten your grip on his cock, he moans again and began thrusting harder into your hand. Hearing and feeling all of this nearly floods your underwear, and you wished that he was fucking you instead of your hand.

Mark kisses you again, desperate. You can feel the puffs of him breathing through his nose on your face, and you can barely keep yourself sane.

"Mark-" his voice rolls off your tongue once you manage to break his kiss, as if you were begging, and he barely slows down. He tightly holds your shoulder, and you think it might bruise.

"Y-yeah?"

"Please," you really feel like you're begging now.

(Y/N)!

That wasn't Mark's voice.

"(Y/N)! (Y/N)! (Y/N)! (Y/N)!"

Groaning, you begin to open your eyes. The room isn't quite bright yet, and suddenly you feel a great weight on your abdomen.

"Mark?" You ask dumbly, the figure shaking you awake not quite clear enough for you to see.

"No, it's me!"

One you realize you can move your arms, you bring your hands up to rub your eyes. Your vision clears up and you realize Rhiannon is sitting on top of you, looking down on you with a giant grin on her face. Her hands are gripping your shoulders tightly, enough that you wince.

"Rhiannon, what the hell?" You ask, barely reaching your glasses that were perched on your desk. You slip them on and even further notice that she is shirtless. "You woke me up. Put a shirt on."

"I know, dummy!" She exclaims. "Look!" She shoves her chest further into your face until you see it. Puffy scar marks in the shape of hands on her shoulders.

"You have-"

"Donghyuck is my soulmate!"

You’re too tired for this, and coming out of a dream that surely will not leave your brain. “Rhiannon, I’m happy for you, but can you please get off me?” Raising an eyebrow, Rhiannon lifts herself from your body and sits on the edge of your bed. She’s still grinning like a maniac, tracing the scars. “My hand marks are going to be on his chest,” she reminds you, tapping her feet excitedly on the floor. “I’m gonna rip off his shirt tonight so I can look at them. And do other things. As you do.”

Groaning, you peel the covers off yourself. “Jesus, TMI,” you say, rubbing your eyes. “You’re way too excited about this.” Rhiannon scoffed. “You’re not excited enough! We’re soulmates with two members of NCT! How amazing is that?! All the fanfictions in the world could never have actually prepared me for this! What should I wear?” You’re soon enough drowning out her hushed ramblings on if she should try looking for a new dress at Forever 21. “I’m happy for you, Rhi, but you should really stop worrying so much. Didn’t you have an outfit planned out a month ago?” You ask, standing up and moving out of your room to start the day, Rhiannon following close behind.

“Yes,” she replied immediately, watching you dig through your clean clothes for the outfit you set aside for the day. “But now that I know I’m Donghyuck’s soulmate, I think I should wear something better.” “We’re going to an NCT concert, dude. NOT wearing neon green is gonna make you look just plain weird. Just go with what you picked out.”

Rhiannon sighed, conceding with a dejected nod. “I just don’t know if he’ll like it or not.” You smile, finally pulling out your own neon green tank top and blue shortalls. “He’ll love it, stop worrying.” You pull on your own outfit, adding a handmade hairband with the word 마크 written in little neon felt letters atop it. "How do I look?"

"Stunning, as usual," Rhiannon replies, smiling. "I'm gonna go get changed. See you at the venue." Rhiannon disappears into her bedroom as you grab your backpack and a granola bar, heading out to the last class of the week.

Let's hope I don't trip and ruin my clothes…

Friday. Two days left to submit your final for evaluation, but if you were to get the grade you wanted, you decided to submit it at the end of class. From your locker, you pulled out your finished portfolio, a playfully decorated photo book covered in stickers and polaroid photos. All that was left was your mini-essay.

You arrived into class and greeted Moose warmly, quickly letting her get back to her own project that she was finishing up. Once you sit down at your computer, you read through your document that you had been working on whenever you weren’t with Mark. - Final Portfolio and Bonus Objective -

Love in Photographs

(Y/N) (L/N)

Ms. Prentice

Photography 203

In this essay, I will address the personal effects of photography and how, in the second and final year of my program, my entire life has changed within a week’s time. In this final, my photos will reflect on why I chose to use the concert program as my focus.

Photography is, to me, an incredibly emotional profession. From weddings to sprawling landscapes, a photo will mean something to someone. It means a beautiful memory that will last forever, the progression of nature and our planet, or solid evidence of a crime that could provide closure to a mourning family.

Photography can also have an impact during the social interaction of business. It didn’t occur to me for nearly two years that I’ve spent studying the profession. When I signed up for the concert program, I was just a fan of the group I happened to see a flyer for. NCT is a K-Pop group currently touring in North America and the group that hired me for the program.

It was my emotional connection to them that made me want to take the job. It was thrilling to think about working for them as my first clients, even if it was a co-op program. I wanted to meet them, talk with them, learn what they wanted and do my best to make it a reality. The program was always going to be an emotional experience for me, but I truly learned about how photography was an emotional two-way street after I met Mark Lee in person.

After this week, I truly believe that everybody winds up getting the jobs they’re supposed to get.

Mark Lee is the main subject of my portfolio and a member of NCT. He was the person I spent the most time with, and considering the specifications of NCT’s commission, he was the person I worked with the most. While NCT specifically asked for one singular photo, Mark was insistent on spending time with me, letting me take photos of him for my project. The day after meeting him, my scars appeared. Mark Lee was my soulmate, something that I never thought I’d find - and would never have looked for intentionally.

The connection we formed was stronger than any other emotional bond I’ve had throughout my life, and from that moment on, every photo I took was a passion project. Sealing my soulmate in the immortality of a photo was exhilarating. Something I could keep close while he was away. It made me think of future clients, an image was clear in my head of someone asking me for the same thing. Something to see and remember even if the subject of that photo was too far away to touch.

In the past, I had been sceptical of having a soulmate of my own, but I knew I had to dampen my prejudice for the sake of future clients, especially those looking to hire me for their wedding photos. In wedding ceremonies, I would be photographing soulmates that could be naked for all I knew. Soulmate marks could appear anywhere, after all. Still, my worldview made me reluctant to think about that branch of career. I told myself I would only photograph wildlife or do fully clothed modelling, even if that decision cut my clientele in half. Until Mark Lee.

In this portfolio, you can see Mark on various outings with me and the rest of NCT, or just posing for the sake of a ‘cool picture with the subway in the background’. Photographs don’t need to have a purpose as a photograph holds meaning no matter what the subject is. For me, the photos in this final represent letting go of my fears and finding love, humbling myself and seeing that I can branch out and do more than I planned. Instead of seeking grandeur, I want to take photos of anything someone might find the smallest amount of happiness in. A smile, a flower, a kiss. Even if someone is worried about asking for something that may seem trivial, I want to assure them that if it means something to them, it means something to me, too.

Any photo here of Mark Lee, or even the one photo I took of NCT, to me, is a symbol of love. To make new friends and experience a culture different from mine, to see their dreams become a reality in front of me. If this final project before I graduate is the gate to my own dream coming true, these photos will definitely represent my passion. To see more than just myself. To see others and the love they share for anything this world has to offer.

Originally, the portfolio I was going to create was going to be just one photo from the program, but in the end, over half of what is included was from the past week. An emotional connection to the world and everything in it is every bit important in the world of photography as skills with a camera. Both of which I hope to carry into the world with me as my career truly begins.

Satisfied, you saved your work and went through it once more with Grammarly to make sure you hadn’t let any mistakes slip past. Your heart beats rapidly in your chest as you send the document to the classroom printer, knowing that once you tape your essay inside of your portfolio project, it was time to submit early and wait for your teacher’s sign of approval on your graduation form. After submitting your papers into the printer, you make your way to the classroom’s printer and log in to your account, selecting the pages you’ve sent to it. Now it was time to wait. Your phone buzzes, and you pull it out to read a text. Mark: How’s class?

You: I’m almost done my paper

You: Gonna submit it and then I can leave early

Mark: Sweet see you soon?

You: Yeah, see you soon

Mark: I can’t wait, I had a strange dream last night

Before you can reply, your paper finishes printing. Deciding to answer his text later, you return to your desk and finish up your final. You quickly flip through the book to make everything is secured, and with a deep breath, you stand. Ms Prentice is smiling at you from her desk, beckoning you over once she realizes you have your portfolio in hand.

“Glad to see my top student is still consistent,” she said in a sing-song voice, taking the portfolio from you as soon as you reach her desk. “Are you sure you don’t want to take the weekend to add more? I heard the concert you’re attending is today.”

You shake your head. “No, ma’am. I completed the task I was hired for, so any photos I take at the concert won’t have an impact on the messages I want to convey.”

She smiles at you. “I look forward to looking through it, then. You’re dismissed if you have nothing else to complete here.” “Nothing else unless you have a task for me,” you answer, smiling down at her.

Ms Prentice shakes her head, still smiling. “Go ahead, enjoy the rest of your day. Say hello to Mark for me. He’s quite the polite young man.” Blushing, you nod. “Okay, I will.”

As soon as you stepped outside the classroom, you breathed a deep sigh of relief. All of your finals were completed and after the final week of classes, you would prepare to graduate at the end of June.

After making a quick stop to the arts building to pick up a photo frame, you put on some music and headed out to the streetcars. It was still quite early in the morning, so you had a place to sit down during your trip to the venue. You noticed you still hadn't answered Mark's text, you decide to do so while you waited.

You: sorry, was submitting my final - prof says hello

You: I'm on my way now

You: What do you mean by strange dream?

It didn't take Mark long to reply.

Mark: travel safe

Mark: Well it's a little embarrassing to explain kinda

You: I had a dream too last night with you in it

Mark: what happened in it

You: you stayed with me last night and you slept in my bed

Mark: and that's it?

You: hell no >\\\>

Mark: I think we had the same dream

You: how did it end?

Mark: well, uh, you know…

You: mine ended with rhiannon waking me up so I think mine got cut off

Mark: oh

Well I think you can infer what ended up happening

You: aaaaaaaaaaa

Mark: I just wish I could have stayed

You: I wish too but I'll be there soon

Mark: I'll meet you at the station

You: arent you worried about fans swarming you

Mark: nah it's too early for any fans to be showing up since everything is seated there is no reason to camp out

You: okay as long as you're sure

You: Thank you

Mark: of course <3

You: I'm really nervous

You: That dream I had felt really real

Mark: it did for me too

You put your phone down and licked your lips. If anything, you would have loved to live out that dream. Go all the way. It made your body ache thinking about it, but it also made you nervous to think about sneaking around the others if you suggested it to Mark.

You arrived at your stop, a little surprised the place was mostly empty save for Mark sitting inside one of the bus shelters. As soon as he saw the streetcar pull up, he stood to wait for you by the curb.

Mark was still dressed in casual clothes, jeans and a black t-shirt with a pair of yellow converse. That probably meant they hadn't started getting ready for performances yet - which was reasonable considering it wasn't even midday.

Mark smiles when he spots you through the window, waving at you as you exited. Without a word you approached him and trapped him in a tight hug.

"Woah," he whispered, wrapping his arms around you. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," you reply into his chest, voice muffled. "I just missed you."

Mark kissed the top of your head, "I missed you too." Gently holding your shoulders he separated from the hug. "Come on, let's go inside." He takes your hand and squeezes it gently, smiling down at you with a blush consuming his cheeks.

Mark leads you across the street and toward the venue, enjoying a comfortable silence blanketed under the warm summer sun. Just as you reach the maintenance doors, he pauses. "Oh, I almost forgot. Here, you'll need this." Mark reaches into his pocket and pulls out a crumpled up lanyard. On the end of it was a laminated card that had the Neo City cover photo inside with "Backstage Pass" written on the bottom.

"Oh, thank you. I almost forgot about these." You let him put the lanyard around your neck, smoothing it out gently. He smiles and nods approvingly, then continues leading you inside.

There are people milling about, hauling things into the stadium from trucks. You don't have to explicitly show your lanyard, you assume, because you're with Mark, but workers are still cautiously watching you as you pass by.

Once you two enter the arena, you notice that you're close to the back section, where you originally bought tickets for. You spot everyone lounging around the stage that looked like it was just finished being put up. Rhiannon is there as well, sitting with Donghyuck and Jungwoo.

The arena itself was smaller than the largest one you've been to for another concert the year before, but it was still impressive. You take a quick look around, noticing the different sections and the VIP rooms that were attached to the ceiling. This place was originally for hockey, after all.

"Hey, guys!" Mark calls into the stadium. Everyone perks up from their conversation and wave at you, prompting you to wave back sheepishly. "Do you want to go see them, or?" Mark held your hand tightly, speaking softly.

"What do you mean?" You look at him, eyebrows furrowed in curiosity.

"You know… what we talked about. Make time?" There's something in Mark's eyes as he speaks like he's begging you, the usually bright and playful twinkle in his eyes replaced by love and need. His gaze flicks from your eyes to your lips, and he steps a tiny bit closer to you.

Before you can answer, you hear Rhiannon shouting in your direction in Korean. You quickly glance at her, and even though you're too far away to see her face properly, you can tell she's making an obscene gesture at you - making a circle with her thumb and index finger, passing the index finger of her other hand through the circle. The other guys burst out laughing, and you feel your cheeks light up in an embarrassed blush.

"Uhm, what did she say?"

Mark smiles awkwardly, face bright red. He still keeps eye contact, licking his lips before answering your question. "She said she better not catch us trying to fuck in the hallway again…"

You press your forehead into his chest, groaning. "Now they all know about that?!"

Mark chuckles gently. "Yeah, I'm sorry. It's okay though, they're all understanding, I promise. Come on, I have a place for us to go. If you want, that is."

"Y-yeah, but I don't want them to make fun of us…" Mark once again begins leading you out of the stage area and into the main hallway of the venue.

He holds you close as you walk, "I promise that they won't. They can have their fun now, but they'll be doing the exact same thing when they find their own soulmates."

You guessed that you could agree with him on that. You're not exactly sure where he could be leading you as you eventually approach a stairway. Mark stops, searching your expression silently.

"Are you okay, Mark?"

He licks his lips again when he hears his name. "Yeah, I'm okay. I just want to know if you really truly want to do this, and not because you feel pressured."

You gently squeeze Mark's hand, nodding. "I really want this. I give you my full and utter consent. I don't want you to be uncomfortable or pressured, either."

Mark smiles gently at you, relieved. He starts to go up the staircase. "That's why I came here with Donghyuck earlier than the others. Come on, we're almost there."

A little confused by what he meant, you let Mark keep the lead. At the top of the staircase was another smaller hallway lined with doorways. You figured it was to the observation boxes you saw when you were in the arena. He leads you to the end of the hallway, stopping at the final door.

"This one," Mark says to himself, looking back and smiling at you.

"You're not-"

Mark quickly opens the door and holds it open for you, allowing you to enter first. The premium seating area was a lot fancier than you expected- and a lot more closed off. The window overlooking the stage was covered by a black curtain, leaving the room dark until Mark entered the room behind you, flicking on the lights and setting them to be dim. He closed the door behind himself, leaving the two of you truly alone.

On the left of the room was a little kitchen area, complete with cabinets, a mini-fridge and a counter with an electric kettle sitting atop it. In the corner of the counter was a little sink accompanied by soft-looking tea towels. By the window was a bar table with some high chairs, next to it a coffee table shoved against it. On the left of the room was a couch with a soft blanket spread over it.

Mark kicked off his shoes and set them by the door. "What do you think?" He asked shyly. "We have this room until about 2, so plenty of time before people start looking for me."

"Wow," was all you could really muster, also managing to slide off your own shoes. You set your backpack next to them, placing your lanyard on the top of your bag. "You really did this just so we could have some time alone?"

"Yeah," Mark moved to stand in front of you, gently taking your hand and bringing it up to his face so he could kiss your knuckles fondly. "It beats a broom closet or the hallway outside your apartment," he grins.

Your face goes red as your memories flood of his knee nearly meeting your crotch the night before. "Yeah, you're right. Thank you for making me comfortable."

"Of course," he replies cheerfully. "Want me to make you some tea?"

"No, thank you," your gaze meets Mark's and you swallowed thickly. "I really can't get that dream out of my head," your voice quiets to a whisper, like someone outside could still hear you.

Mark's expression changes quickly, from cheerful to something you could almost discern as predatory. "Me neither," he agreed, his voice deeper and softer. "Can I kiss you?"

"You can do a lot more than that," you manage to breathe out before his lips are on yours. You wrap your arms around his torso, grasping the cloth of his t-shirt. His hands are resting gently over the jean material covering your hips, mouth moving against yours perfectly.

You whimper into the kiss, deciding to be a little bold. You untucked his shirt from his jeans and slide your hands underneath the fabric. He takes in a sharp breath once your hands land on his skin, and he breaks the kiss.

"Wow," he sighs, looking at you with half-lidded eyes. His face is flushed and he's smiling warmly at you.

You sigh in return, swallowing thickly. You want to kiss him again, but he backs up. The next thing you know, he's pulling off his shirt, the fabric landing gently on the floor. Mark then begins guiding your hands to touch his chest. His skin is smooth and soft, toned but not too muscular. His hands are wrapped softly around your wrists, guiding but not completely controlling where you touch.

"Feels good," he sighs, and you wonder if you should stay bold.

"I have an idea," you whisper, your gaze flicking to the couch for a moment. "Sit down?"

Mark silently agrees with you, both of you approaching the furniture. Mark sits down first, and you take a moment to drink in the view. He's already nearly panting, watching you and running his tongue over his lips.

Even though his soulmate scar has changed much of what his chest would originally look like, you see his pecs, hard nipples and the outline of nearly formed abs on his tummy. Your eyes continue down to the small black trail of hair that ends your gaze at the band of his boxers peeking out from his jeans. You can tell he's already half-hard in his pants, but you try to not let your gaze linger out of shyness.

"You're stunning, Mark," you say, possibly paralyzed as you stand in front of him.

He smiles, reaching both arms out to you. "C'mere," he says, "I want to know what you had in mind."

Licking your own lips, you nod and approach him, climbing onto his lap and straddling him. You gently kiss him once more, and when you back away, he tries to follow and catch your lips again. You shake your head at him, feeling his hands wander back to your hips.

Taking in a deep breath, you dive in. First, your lips meet the crevice of his neck to his traps, lightly trailing your lips across his skin. You feel the slight swelling of his scar, then normal skin as you end your little expedition on the edge of his shoulder. Placing a hand on his chest, you feel his heartbeat, a little fast-paced but steady. You close your eyes for a moment, readying yourself and hoping that he was going to like what you were about to do.

You lean back to look Mark in the eye, even if he is already lost in how he's feeling. "This all is okay, right?" You ask, just to make sure. Your hand slides from his chest down to his hip, slipping a finger barely underneath the band of his boxers.

"Oh yeah," he sighs. "Keep going."

You comply, lowering your mouth to gently flick your tongue on his right nipple. His reaction is immediate, a whimper that nearly sends you to the high heavens, a strong tingly feeling surging through your crotch.

"Fuck," the word sounded so obscene yet sweet coming from him, "that's good."

Smiling triumphantly, you continue with your plan. Gently licking and sucking ever so slightly on his chest until he's a moaning mess, his grip on your hips getting tighter and you start to feel his cock straining in his pants.

"(Y/N), wait, wait,"

You immediately perk up and begin to worry. "I'm sorry, did I-"

"No," he nearly laughs. "If you keep doing that, I'm gonna cum in my pants."

You sheepishly look away, "oh,"

"(Y/N), it's okay," Mark says softly, his hands coming to your chest to unclip your overalls, "let's make this about you, too."

You're speechless as he slowly guides you to stand up, the loose shortalls falling to the floor. His eyes are almost immediately glued to your panties, and you nearly forgot you were wearing your Avengers themed underwear today, the A symbol brandished proudly on the front.

Mark is grinning at you now. "Please tell me there are Avengers on your butt."

Whimpering out of embarrassment, you hide your face in your hands and you drop to your knees in front of him. Mark kisses your forehead, gently taking hold of your wrists again so you can't hide your face.

"It's okay, I really like them. Come and sit on my lap again, please?"

Once you realize how you're sitting, you look up at Mark. He's towering over you, and you like that he is looking down at you. "Do you not want me to-"

Mark shakes his head gently. "Not this time. I just need you in the real way right now."

When those words reach your ears, you know you're whipped. Standing and stepping out of the jeans pooled beneath you, you clamour back onto Mark's lap. Instantly he's back to kissing you, his hands now freely roaming up the sides of your body, softly. Like in your dream.

Before Mark can take off your shirt, you both began pressing harder against each other, causing you to moan into the kiss. It felt good to feel his clothed cock over your panties, one less layer preventing complete feeling.

"Fuck, I wanted to drag this out," Mark says in between kisses that are growing in intensity, "I can almost feel how wet you are and my pants are still on,"

"Take them off, please?" You ask, borderline begging. Mark smiles up at you and doesn't hesitate in complying. You balance on your knees with your hands on Mark's chest as he slides his hands between you both to unbutton and wriggle out of his pants, bringing his boxers with them. Once his cock is free, it sits flush and hard against his abdomen. You find yourself unable to peel your eyes away from it.

"Like what you see?" He jokes, gripping the shaft and moaning once he gives it a couple strong tugs. "Fuck, need you.."

"Mm," you're barely able to form a response, especially when Mark hooks his fingers against your shirt, coaxing you to lift up your arms and allow it to slide off. Next is your bra, and you help him unclip the back as he presses soft kisses to the swell of your breasts.

"God, you're beautiful, I'm so glad I have you," Mark then takes your hands to lace your fingers with his. Slowly you sink your body back down to rest against his cock, moving your hips ever so slightly, sliding the fabric of your panties against his bare member.

"Mark," you whimper, thrusting forward a little stronger. "I really want you to…"

"To what?" Mark asked, his voice husky and his pupils blown with lust. His lips meet yours one more time.

"Fuck me, please,"

Mark licks his lips and groans. "Just wait a little, gotta make sure.." he lets go of your hands, leaving them to rest again on his shoulders. His own trail down your sides, causing you to squirm and whimper at the touch, your skin incredibly sensitive. He soon takes a hold of your panties, sliding them down your legs. "Fuck, look, it's sticking to your underwear, that's so hot…"

You look down, and you notice a tiny string of wetness still attached to your underwear. You almost want to hide your face in the crook of Mark's shoulder, but instead, he coaxes you to stand long enough to rid your legs of your panties.

"Look at you," he whispers, making you acutely aware that you're completely naked in front of him. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," you look him in the eye, straddling his lap once more and leaning against him for a quick and intimate hug. "I've just never been naked in front of anyone before."

"Me neither, it's okay," he says softly. "Can I touch you?"

"Yes," you suck in a sharp breath as Mark trails a finger down your stomach. As soon as he reaches your crotch, you feel like you could explode into flames. You think this is the first time Mark has really hesitated, but you're fine with it.

"Like this," you say softly, using your hand to guide his. Gathering some wetness on his fingers, you guide him to rub a few tiny circles on your clit before you let him take over.

"Good?" He asks, continuing the movement until you nod, sighing. It felt amazing that you were finally getting to some relief of the ache that's been building inside your abdomen. Soon there's another jolt of pleasure running through you as Mark slips a finger inside you.

"Fuck, Mark," you whine, pressing your forehead to his. You can feel his breath on you, ghosting your lips against his own. Once Mark adds a second finger, you feel like his soft movements could make you cum right then and there. He's fucking you ever so slowly with his fingers that you could nearly call it torture. "Please, I think… I think I'm ready,"

"O-okay," Mark stutters for a moment, and it feels just as good when his fingers slip out. "We can go slow, right?"

"Any way you want," you answer, pecking his lips again.

"Okay," he sighs sweetly, guiding your hips downward with one hand and lining himself up with the other. "God, I can already feel it," he whines, feeling the tip of his leaking cock nudging your entrance. "Better than what I dreamed."

Ever so slowly, you're sinking down onto him. There's a bit of a stretch and a little bit of pain, but you work through it as best you can. Mark is clenching his jaw, eyes shut tightly. His hands are gripping your hips hard enough to bruise, and his breathing has picked up to wanton panting.

"Fuck, fuck, (Y/N), this is so good, it feels so good to be inside," His words cause you to pulse around him, making you both cry out. Without warning Mark's hips snap upward, his voice slowly groaning out more curse words, following your cry of surprise. "Fuck, I'm sorry, are you okay?"

You wince but nod at him once he opens his eyes. "Yeah, I'm okay. I think. I think we can move."

"Okay. I want to fuck you, is that alright?"

You nod, your face burning. You brace yourself, hands balancing on the back of the couch and gripping the soft blanket. When Mark starts to move, you can hear your wetness squelching and his accompanying quiet moans of 'fuck, that's hot.' Mark leans forward, his arms coming to broadly trap you in a hug as he slowly thrusts upward to meet with your pelvis. He presses wanton and open-mouthed kisses to your neck, and you can feel him smiling faintly every time you say his name.

You know for sure that you've quickly given up most of your ability to hold yourself up. Even though you're full of energy and are being consumed by a swirl of wanton feelings, the constant build of pleasure in your abdomen and the contracting of your pussy around Mark every time any noise came out of him left you feeling like a ragdoll. Mark is holding you up through his hug, and because of how your chests are squished together, you can feel him breathe.

"Mark," you managed to cry out once his slow thrusts began to grow faster and more needy, "Mark, I'm close,"

"Please tell me you're gonna cum first, fuck, (Y/N), please cum first!" Mark is losing his rhythm now, crying out stuttered moans between his begging for you to cum.

"Mark, don't stop, please… I'm gonna cum," You're unable to feel embarrassment from the obscenities leaving your mouth as the pressure that's been building inside you reaches its peak, your pussy rapidly pulsing around Mark's cock. Your eyes are rolling back as clear ecstasy washes over you, sharp spikes of pleasure eventually dulling.

"Fuck, tight, need more, fuck! Fuck, (Y/N), I'm gonna cum too, fuck, I'm cumming!" You're nearly about to begin whimpering from overstimulation before you feel Mark's cock still. It hardened even further, twitching inside of you and following it was the warmth of his cum.

Slowly, you both come down to reality, Mark gently kissing your neck as you lay nearly limp on him, his fingers tracing delicate patterns on your back. There is a clear sheen of sweat between you, and soon it becomes a little uncomfortable.

"Hey, do you think you can sit up? I need to get some stuff to get you clean," Mark's voice is calm and sweet, if not still a little ragged.

"I think so," you manage to answer, trying your best to balance again on your knees, your whole body starting to tremble. Mark's softening cock slides out, a dollop of his cum following. Somehow, you feel less complete without him there.

"Let me help," Mark says softly, gently guiding you to lay down on the couch. Once he knows you're comfortable, he pulls on his boxers and wanders to the counter.

You're watching him with hooded eyes as he reaches into one of the cupboards, pulling out a small pack of baby wipes, following with dampening two of the washcloths in the sink.

"I got these on the way back last night and that's how Johnny figured out what I wanted," he said sheepishly as he came back to you, kissing you softly before kneeling down and opening up the little packet. "He had the idea of bringing that blanket."

"I really didn't expect that to happen," you say, taking in a sharp breath when you feel coolness over your thighs as Mark cleans you up. "Thank you."

"Anything for you," he said, passing you the damp washcloth. "Just so we both don't look like we just had sex."

You nod, taking the cloth and dabbing it over your forehead and chest. Once your fatigue begins to fade, you sit up and watch Mark sitting cross-legged on the floor, wiping away the layer of sweat from his chest. His eyes meet yours, and the way he smiles at you makes you tear up.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Mark immediately looks concerned, standing and taking a seat next to you. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, of course," you wipe a tear away with your hand, "I just really love you." In that moment you feel more vulnerable than you ever had in your life. Naked, scarred and crying in front of your soulmate.

Mark's smile returns quickly, pecking a quick kiss to your cheek. "I love you, too, (Y/N)." His eyes are sparkling again, something that makes your heart ache even more, but in a good way. "Come on, let's get you dressed."

Soon he is standing again, coaxing you to join him. He helps you slip your underwear back on, making an idle comment and bearing a giant grin when he realizes that there really are Avengers characters on the butt of your panties.

Mark takes extra care in making sure you were comfortable and your bra was sitting properly on your chest. He blew raspberries on your tummy, grinning as you laughed. Honestly, the thought that should have been in your mind was completely dismissed in the sweet moments of Mark helping you get dressed.

"Now I'm hungry," you say as you finish putting on your shortalls, laughter on your lips, pretending to pout at Mark as he slips on his shirt, tucking it tightly back into his pants.

Mark nods, "yeah, me too. We can get some food in the green room. Here, you have a twisty strap," Mark approaches you once more and unclips one of your overall buttons, straightening out the strap and smoothing it along your shoulder. "There, all better."

"Thank you," you look back over the room, noticing a backpack that wasn't yours sitting next to the couch. "Is that yours?"

Mark nodded. "Yeah. After the show, I'm gonna come back here to grab it. I just have to fold the blanket and put away the washcloths."

"I can help you," you say, turning around go grab the blanket and fold it, but Mark gently takes your hand to stop you once you try to reach for the backpack to stuff it inside.

"It's okay, you can help me after. We should get something to eat now," Mark is smiling fondly at you, nodding toward the door. Huffing a tiny sigh you agree, putting the folded blanket down on the couch and following him to slip on your shoes, grab your lanyard and backpack, heading out the door.

#mark lee #mark lee x reader #mark x reader #nct #nct127 #nctu #nct scenarios #nct imagines #reader insert #fanfiction #kpop fanfictions #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines

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florrickandassociates · 3 years ago

Text

TGF Thoughts: 5x03-- And the court had a clerk...

Hello again! It’s nice to have this show back. This episode was a bit less of a standout than the previous two, but I’m still happy with the overall direction for this season. More under the cut (or here, because tumblr sucks).

When Robert King tweeted the episode title, I asked him if all the titles this season were adding up to one long sentence/story, hoping he’d confirm it and give a little more information. He did! He said it’s “in the Farmer in the Dell mode” and while I think I get what he’s saying, I’m very curious to see how it plays out. Haven’t been able to track down 5x04′s title yet, but the promo is out. (As of this morning! It’s interesting they’re not putting them after the episode this year; I kind of like it.)

Kurt’s job is up in the air given the new administration. I think this scene exists mostly just to remind us where Kurt works and the stakes.

What month is this supposed to be in? The transition seems recent but no one is wearing masks.

Kurt spots a poster asking for help ID’ing people at the Capitol on January 6th. He thinks he recognizes someone...

And now we’re in case of the week land. This case is about a small business owner whose business went under after someone created fake news articles accusing him of pedophilia.

I think the whole point of this (kind of long) scene is to show that this case is a pretty small deal. Low stakes, inexperienced opposing lawyer. (Not even sure why Liz would be arguing this in court, but whatever.)

Tbh I thought this was going to wind up in 9 ¾ court.

Now that we have junior level characters, we get scenes showing that there are, in fact, people at RBL who are mid-level. Liz asks an associate to work on something, he asks another associate to work on it, she delegates to other associates, and they delegate to Marissa and Carmen. This work seems terrible.

It’s so funny to me how this is probably more realistic than most of the lawyering on the show and yet it only shows up selectively. We only see the hierarchy here to make it clear that Marissa and Carmen are at the bottom.

David Lee interrupts and asks for Carmen. He’s very rude to her. Interestingly, she’s hesitant to leave her grunt work and follow David, even though she must know he outranks the associate who gave her the grunt work.

“Why am I supposed to know you?” David asks her as they walk through the halls. “I don’t know if you are,” Carmen responds. “Why does Benjamin Dafoe know you?” he asks. She doesn’t know who he is.

“Who are you?” Dafoe asks when Carmen enters. She states her name, again. “Why are you important?” he asks. “I don’t think that I am,” Carmen responds.

Then Dafoe says his top client, and it’s a name that the characters all know. I’m glad this scene is free of any “he’s the white OJ” expository lines (that’s from Sweeney’s introduction) -- it’s clear from the reactions and the discussion of police and rape that the top client is a bad guy, probably a rapist. The rapist wants Carmen to represent him.

Putting 2 and 2 together, Carmen asks if the rapist knows Rivi. He’s not, but he’s at the same prison. As soon as Carmen says she’s representing Rivi, David Lee switches gears, understanding the situation and trying to sign the new business. He’s so shameless!

Marissa sorts ALL the papers. There are a LOT of papers. I’m swamped. Look at all this paper.

She catches the associate who assigned her the task leaving for the night just as she finishes up, and cheerfully notes she’s finished the task. Then the associate mentions this was only half of the bills. Marissa does not like that. Since her goal in wanting to be a lawyer is mostly just to give her something exciting to do and earn respect... this hierarchy thing is not going so well.

Marissa decides that after her rough day, she’s going to stop by Wackner’s court. He’s in the middle of a case about Emily in Paris fanfiction and he’s very happy to see Marissa.

Wackner’s night court has a program—it notes the sponsor is Copy Co-op (I thought it was Copy Coop?) and the paper products were also provided by them. And “there will be regular intermissions at the discretion of Judge Wackner.” It’s very theatrical.

Wackner takes a recess and calls Marissa to his “chambers.” He asks for her thoughts on the case. “All they want is attention and to feel like they’ve won,” Marissa notes. Wackner’s on the same wave length and compares it to the Scarecrow’s diploma at the end of The Wizard of Oz. So, he makes copyright certificates and some minor modifications to each of the fanfic books. They say “I respect you and I love you” and that’s that.

Wackner catches Marissa before she leaves and asks her to be his law clerk—part time or full time, 10% of all the legal filings and unlimited use of copy machines. She is hesitant because she “doesn’t even know what this is.”

Wackner says his court is “the future.” Marissa turns him down; notes she wants to pass the bar. “You know why all these people are here? ‘Cause the courts and the lawyers and the appeals have made justice... unattainable. Out of reach. To anyone who doesn’t have a shitload of money to wait it out. That’s why Exxon beats out Mr. Nobody. Read Kafka’s Before the Law.”

I just read it, and you should too! It literally is a page, but tl;dr, there’s a man who wants to get to the law and instead he spends his whole life trying to win over the first of many gatekeepers on the path to the law. He never gets through the gate.

“Justice is only just if it’s available to everyone,” Wackner says. Marissa thinks about that.

As I said last week, it’s smart that Wackner makes so much sense. Hearing him say all this, knowing that it’s true... it makes it very easy to get on board with the thought experiment. Of course there would be huge repercussions to this kind of system, but it makes so much sense it’s compelling TV!

Kurt’s showering when Diane gets home, which gives her time to stumble across the WANTED poster and notice that Kurt has drawn facial hair onto one of the pictures. “Who is this?” she asks him. “No one,” he says. “Well, you drew in a beard and a moustache on him,” Diane notes. Kurt says he was doodling, but Diane calls him out as he is the “exact opposite of a doodler.” Kurt says he thought it was someone he knew, but he’s not sure. Diane pushes him to tell the feds. Kurt reiterates he’s not sure, but it’s someone he went shooting with. “Oh my God, then it’s him,” Diane jumps to (not incorrect) conclusions. Kurt says he didn’t talk that way; he’s a veteran. “Kurt! That’s the profile!” Diane argues. Kurt isn’t convinced and he doesn’t want to be responsible for naming names. He notes he’ll be threatened with indictment for not naming names and then only lawyers will end up benefitting. Diane is not convinced.

I think this is an interesting conflict for Kurt and Diane. I understand why Kurt is hesitant to speak out before he’s sure. And I understand and agree with Diane that it’s important to identify the attackers and prevent anything like that from happening again.

I don’t mean to blame Kurt, exactly, but I feel like all of what happens next could’ve played out differently if Kurt had been just a little clearer with Diane about why he was hesitant to ID the man. Like, the threat of indictment for not naming names sounds like some typical anti-government rambling. Saying you specifically are afraid that this will turn back on you and you need to weigh your options and come up with a plan first would put Diane in a very different mode, in which they’d work together to craft the best strategy. Because this man would’ve been ID’d by someone, sooner or later, and Kurt would’ve needed to be prepared.

Diane stares at the wanted poster at work and asks Jay to find his identity. He’s on the FBI TEN MOST WANTED? Ten!? Ok!

Diane shares the extra information she has—the gun range and that he’s a veteran—and Jay gets to work.

Turns out there’s no money in the case that Liz, a name partner, is working on and Marissa just spent all those hours sorting bills for. I could’ve told you there was no money in that case lol.

Jay IDs the guy very fast. He’s faster than the feds because they didn’t know where he shot. The range had his license on file, and Jay got ahold of it.

“Well, we don’t pay you enough,” Diane says. “Oh, I know that,” Jay laughs.

Diane says she’s going to think about calling the feds—it's definitely the same guy.

Marissa notes someone high profile (David Cord, who I presume is a thinly veiled stand-in for David Koch given the name, his role in the plot, and the fact that he is “David Cord of the Cord Brothers”) in the lobby giving a fake name and goes to tell Liz.

David Cord is performing magic tricks for the receptionists (they don’t recognize him) when Liz and Marissa show up. “I knew your father. I hated your father,” Cord says. “Yes, well, he hated you too,” Liz says. He says he gave a fake name to see what the reception would be like since he’s kinda infamous.

Liz introduces Marissa as one of the law clinic lawyers. Marissa knows what to say in this situation. Specifically, she knows that it is the exact right moment to name drop her father.

“Democrats as far as the eye can see,” Cord notes. At that, Liz asks Marissa to get Julius involved.

More good expository work! (No, editor feature of Word, I do NOT want that to say “Better expository work,” that would change my meaning, go away and please stop grading my recap??? I don’t know how I brought this up but it’s telling me my score is 72%, so a C, and it’s driving me crazy. Oh, now I’m a 71%. It had me at like, 50%, because I had written “Wackner” and “Wackner” is not a word. No shit.)

Anyway, back to the exposition. I like that we don’t get a line like, “Liz! David Cord, the Republican super donor, is here!” We just get to see Liz’s reaction, Cord’s hate of Liz’s father, and the line about democrats. Then it becomes clearer who Cord is.

Just noticed Liz is wearing an Apple Watch.

Liz stands for her meeting with Cord, likely to maintain power. Cord says January 6th changed everything to him and now he’s all about unity and loving America.

Cord has something to say about Liz’s case, the one that’s not making any money, and he seems to know quite a lot about it. That spooks Liz.

Then Cord offers her $12 million to continue the case for another six months (all of these months, seemingly, will play out in the couple of days the rest of this episode takes, but, whatever). He just wants them to go after the social media company that distributed the fake news... and Section 230.

Don’t know what that is? Now you do, because there is a Good Fight short! These work so much better when they’re actually needed (explaining concepts, etc.) than when they’re trying to force one into every episode (remember that Downton Abbey one? What... was that?)

I was talking to @mimeparadox about this short and he pointed out that this short has a VERY clear POV on an issue that actually doesn’t seem to be all that straightforward. If you’re like me and only had a vague sense of what Section 230 was prior to this episode, this short is telling you what to think of it—it isn’t just explaining what it is.

I do tend to agree with the show’s POV on most things, but this is an issue I’d like to read more on. I love how Section 230 was something I hadn’t really read up on prior to this episode and now that it’s been on TGF I realize it’s something that actually, yes, I would’ve been interested in knowing about earlier. Is this because things that are on TGF are interesting to me because they’re on TGF or is it because TGF generally only discusses things that would be interesting to me? Probs a little bit of both.

Diane asks Jay how to make an anonymous phone call and he hands her a burner phone. She calls the FBI with the rioter’s name. She doesn’t leave her name and then she dumps the phone.

Credits! Did you catch there’s a Jordan Boatman in the credits? She plays one of the associates who passes down the grunt work to Marissa, and she’s Michael Boatman’s daughter in real life! She’s also been in one other episode, in season 3.

I never get tired of these credits!

The RL partners (and some associates who are on the case? I think these are the same ones who delegated the work to Marissa?) debate whether or not they should take Cord’s money. Madeline notes that he’s funded a lot of Republican campaigns; Julius notes that both Republicans and Democrats agree that Section 230 is flawed and this is an opportunity for unity.

Diane notes that the right doesn’t want to stop conspiracy theories from spreading, so is this really that bipartisan? “It would help if the boomers would stop falling for those conspiracy theories and sharing it with their friends,” an associate (I believe this is Michael Boatman’s daughter again) notes. That quiets the room and the partners all glare at her. Yeah, that was a kind of stupid thing to say. First of all, it’s just not appropriate to say to the partners, and it’s also, like, missing the point? If it’s easy for conspiracy theories to spread among boomers, maybe just expecting each member of that generation to suddenly have a millennial’s understanding of the internet is the wrong strategy? Maybe there’s some structural issue here? That maybe, just maybe, this case is actually about?

The associate also points out that the internet is currently a place where people can speak out about sexual harassment-- “they repeal section 230, and there would be no #MeToo.”

One of the partners says he doesn’t believe that—if they regulate section 230, then newspapers can actually be competitive and there’s still free speech online.

“We’re not going back to reading newspapers, grandpa,” some associate says. What the actual fuck, dude? Who talks like that to their boss?! It’s so condescending. He’s also wrong! “Newspapers” are not just physical things... reporting by major publications still matters and will continue to matter. Like, is he suggesting that in the future all news will just be random people tweeting things they think are true with no fact checking or curation? Sure, journalism is struggling right now—but I don’t think that’s because there’s a lack of desire for well-reported news.

I am glad the partners call him out on saying “grandpa” and honestly I’m shocked he isn’t asked to leave the discussion after that rude remark. Unless this young looking dude is a partner too? But I don’t think he is.

Julius notes that if they’re going to pursue this case, they need money like Cord’s. At that, Liz starts to leave the meeting. “We haven’t decided if we’re taking this Cord money yet,” Madeline protests. “Of course we are,” Liz says and leaves.

Now that’s more like it! I’m not sure if this is necessarily the best way to handle this, but she’s a) correct, they were always going to take the money because it is $12 million and an issue of interest and b) using her authority. Should Liz be making decisions totally on her own? Maybe not. Does Liz making this decision and then leaving (with everyone accepting that she’s correct) cut through a lot of bullshit and establish Liz as the one in charge? Yup.

Diane says, “Ooh-kay” with a little bit of an eyeroll after Liz exits, but she’s still laying low. I think in a different season Diane might’ve tried to push back.

Is it me or does Baranski get a lot of material this episode we haven’t seen before? Lots of really good reaction shots/tones in this episode I don’t really think we’ve seen from Diane before. I’m impressed there’s still new stuff after 12 years.

At some point maybe I will actually write the essay I’ve been wanting to write for ages about how TGF is still so relevant despite being in a universe that should be showing its age by now. I wish I could find the first time that I called TGW a period piece set in the present day (I know it would’ve been during season five) because I think that’s the key to TGW/TGF’s enduring success. The shows always feel timely because they try to capture the present moment (which is, of course, always changing) and don’t get stuck in any one moment in time. Further, the fact that the writers are always so tuned in to events and skilled at quickly reacting to what happens in the world makes them VERY good in a pinch, which is (I think) why they’re able to make the most of unexpected situations (Josh leaving TGW, the pandemic).

Liz and Julius bring a suit against ChumHum to attack 230. Judge Friend is initially skeptical of their argument that 230 is unconstitutional; then she’s intrigued. I am too. This argument about the press is a very interesting one. I obviously have a lot of reading to do on 230, but my take after this episode is pretty much that social media platforms have to be held responsible in some way, but I don’t think it’s feasible or desirable for them to be responsible for every single one of billions of posts. I think there has to be some way to regulate social media giants that would allow everyday people to share things and speak out but would prevent the curated (even by an algorithm) spread of fake news and make social media giants accountable when there are very public bad actors using their platforms. What that regulation would be I have no idea. I just refuse to believe that our options are to give the social media sites full immunity or to regulate the internet so strongly that no one is able to speak freely because all the platforms are worried about lawsuits.

Over at the VA, people are being fired. When Kurt gets into his office, Madeline Starkey (wait, are there two characters named Madeline in this episode?) is waiting for him. She’s still very quirky and scary.

Starkey says the guy that Diane reported is now saying Kurt trained him on using assault rifles and buying ammunition in bulk. Kurt notes these were topics covered in a group setting, which Starkey knew—and what she’s really after is the names of the others in the group. (She may already know them, since she knows there were five of them.)

Kurt refuses to name names and just stares at her.

Case stuff happens! (I liked the last two episodes a lot but it’s much faster for me to just write, “case stuff happens” for some of the scenes.)

Hey, surprise Aaron Tveit! (Not really a surprise; he is in the credits. But still yay!)

I don’t really know why Liz and Julius are talking about newspapers specifically and not all types of fact-based journalism/press? I feel like their argument is most convincing when it’s about actual newspapers (especially local ones) but still would apply to cable news...

Marissa’s still hard at work sorting papers when the associate comes back in and informs her she can stop; they’ve changed strategies and everything she’s done is now irrelevant. She also says “I forgot to tell you” at the start of that thought, meaning that she neglected to tell Marissa this important information earlier and wasted her time. Marissa is not pleased and so she goes to Wackner’s court, where Wackner now has a deli ticket machine and is wearing super-sized novelty sunglasses. Why not!

He sees Marissa and calls a five-minute recess. In “chambers,” Marissa tells him she’d like to work for him part-time but keep her RL job.

Wackner needs her help processing more copyright certificates. He’s priced them competitively at $20 and found that a lot of writers want these certificates, even though they have no legal value. (Neither do actual copyrights, Wackner notes. And he notes that if anyone plagiarizes, they can sue in HIS court.)

“Marissa, I’m building something here. I want you to join me. I want your advice on cases. I want to bounce legal theories off you,” he says. “What are your legal theories?” she asks. “I don’t know. That’s why I need to bounce them,” he says.

Marissa gives him from noon to 2 and 5-7, which seems awfully ambitious for someone working at a law firm!

“That’s how revolutions are made. Back rooms of copy shops,” he says, accepting her offer.

Kurt is sulking in the dark when Diane arrives home. He lets her know about Starkey’s visit and she immediately goes into lawyer mode. Notably, this scene does not spend much time on how Starkey found out the rioter’s name. Curious if they’re saving that for later or if Diane and Kurt both know what Diane must have done or if Kurt think’s it’s a coincidence.

Kurt SET UP A TOUR OF THE CAPITOL for one of the veterans in his shooting group, and that tour was ON JANUARY 6TH! I really do wish he’d told Diane that upfront.

Maybe the long pause where Kurt refuses to tell Diane which congressperson arranged the tour even after she promises she won’t say is him letting on that he knows that Diane ID’d the guy? Or maybe it’s just Kurt.

I do not like the dead birds in Starkey’s office, mostly because I do not like thinking about dead birds.

Starkey compares Diane and Kurt to the Conways.

And now more case stuff happens.

Julius gets to question a witness for the first time in two years! He’s a little shaky at first but then he does a fantastic job! Yay Julius!

When Diane arrives at the office, reception is filled with around a hundred teddy bears. “What?” she asks. “Build-a-Bears. They were sent to Marissa,” the receptionist explains. “Okay... why?” Diane asks the logical next question. The receptionist does not know.

“This one’s a Marissa bear,” she says, showing Diane a bear wearing boots and a wig. It does not look much like Marissa and it says “Hug me.”

Diane looks confused and furious at the same time. Her look here is, like, a milder version of the death stare she gives Alicia in Outside the Bubble when she learns about Alicia and Cary’s plan to leave.

“Why don’t we, meaning you, take all these stuffed animals and put them in the conference room,” Diane instructs the receptionist. She is NOT! HAPPY! The receptionist seemed to be having fun with the bears, but clearly the right answer was to have done something with them and... not to have put them over every surface in reception. Eeek.

Carmen’s new client, the rapist, arrives at the firm before anyone can hide the bears. “This may not be the firm for you,” his advisor/lawyer (I’m not totally sure what this dude’s job is) warns.

Madeline notices the rapist and glares at the receptionist. “I know. I’m putting them in the conference room,” the receptionist says, thinking Madeline is upset about the bears. She is not upset about the bears.

Diane finds Marissa, who’s working with Carmen again. She asks Carmen to give them a moment.

“Why are there hundreds of teddy bears in our reception?” Diane asks. Marissa is confused. Diane shows her the Marissa bear. Marissa looks horrified and amused. “That doesn’t even look like me,” Marissa notes, completely missing how pissed off Diane is. I don’t think we have seen Diane be this direct/no-nonsense in ages.

“That would seem to be beside the point. What is going on, Marissa?” Diane demands. Marissa suspects this is based on some advice she offered to a client who was buying a Build-a-Bear franchise and thinks this is a thank you gift. “What client? You’re not a lawyer! Why do you have clients?” Diane says exasperatedly.

Marissa gives her a look, and Diane immediately understands that she’s been back to Wackner’s court. “Oh my God, this is about that Copy Coop court?”

“Marissa, no. By participating in that simulacrum of a courtroom, you exposed this firm to malpractice, sanctions, and God knows what,” Diane says. If that were really true, she wouldn’t have sat there and argued. I mean, I don’t know the legality of this all, but I feel like it’s a bigger optics issue than legal issue if Diane and other lawyers are willing to even consider participating?

“If you wish to continue your employment at this firm, you will never do anything like that again. Do you understand?” Diane says. She will not hear any arguments.

I love that Marissa is the thing that keeps Wackner coming back. It’s a good plot for her, but structurally, it also allows the show to keep Wackner around without many contrivances. Wackner sees that Marissa would understand what he’s up to, she sees that he shares some of her frustrations with the law, and they both want to work together again. It’s not like suddenly everyone’s talking about Wackner’s court and all the cases somehow end up there or anything.

The receptionist, who is having a truly terrible day, comes into announce that Kurt and Starkey have arrived. “Don’t put them in the conference room!” Diane commands, knowing that the teddy bears will be there. It’s too late, though, because the receptionist (who previously seemed to be fine at her job if bad at recognizing public figures and understanding that partners might not find teddy bears amusing) has already put them in the conference room. I feel bad for her, and don’t think the other things were her fault, but I feel like she could’ve seen this one coming...

I find the teddy bears HILARIOUS, mostly because the reactions to them are so funny. It’s kind of the same gag as the balloons for Lucca in season two, but I don’t really care, because I’m getting to see Diane Lockhart treat hundreds of Build-a-Bears like they are a real work problem.

Starkey jokes about the bears; Kurt is silent.

The rioter from the poster is now accusing Kurt of coming up with the STRATEGY for January 6th, which Kurt and Diane both dismiss as bullshit.

I could do without Starkey’s musical cues.

I can’t tell if Kurt is in trouble here or if she’s just pressing him to name names. Why wouldn’t she just have rioter guy name names if he’s so eager to blame Kurt? I guess maybe if the others were actually there, he might be less likely to name the names of his actual co-conspirators? Or, Starkey might already know the names (surely the shooting range has logs) and be using this to raise the stakes.

No one (except maybe the partner named Daniel) is happy about the rapist in reception. “Since when are we representing people like Wolfe-Coleman?” Julius asks. Didn’t these people help both Sweeney (though I think Sweeney was in some weird police brutality case and they didn’t actually want to represent him) and Bishop? And Rivi? But they draw the line here? Sure.

Ah, there we go, an expository line-- “he’s the next Jeffrey Epstein”. Almost made it the whole episode without one of these. I’ll forgive it since it’s so late in the episode lol.

“Did you approve this, Liz?!” Madeline demands. Liz did not. Daniel wonders if that means Diane approved it. Liz doesn’t think so and calls Diane (who happens to be walking past) in.

“I know, the teddy bears. I’m working on it,” Diane says when she opens the door. I think the teddy bears are a bigger issue to Diane than to anyone else.

Diane didn’t approve representing Mr. Rapey either. She’s uncomfortable that a meeting was happening without her; Madeline notes that she is standing there specifically because they wanted to involve her.

David Lee pops up out of nowhere with the answer: one of the new associates (not Marissa, “the real one”) pulled in Mr. Rapey. Are there only two associates now even though orientation was for a big group?

Firth is gone, btw. David Lee is the new Mr. Firth. I have no idea why David would want to be STR Laurie’s guy for managing RL but... sure, whatever? David Lee is an effective antagonist, especially in small doses, and this allows the writers to keep him around and continue the STR Laurie plot without a key guest star. If STR Laurie is still a thing, and it seems like it is going to be a thing for a while, then having David Lee take on this role makes sense for plot. Otherwise they’re going to have to shoehorn him in to every plot somehow. At least now he has a reason to be around.

Liz and Diane take a walk to chat. Diane is worried about having David as their boss. Liz says she has a worse worry—David Lee knew exactly when to come downstairs with information, suggesting he know what they were talking about. “Would he do something like that?” Liz asks when Diane wonders if there’s a bug. “Oh, yeah,” Diane replies. Hah, yeah. He absolutely would.

They decide to have Jay search for bugs and Liz is frustrated with how much time they have to spend on things other than lawyering. Yup.

“What is going on with all the teddy bears in the conference room?” Liz asks as they head back to the office. “It’s a long story,” Diane sighs. I also love that the teddy bears link the various pieces of the episode together—it feels like all of these threads are happening simultaneously because of that constant.

I don’t get RL’s approach to clients. Bishop and Rivi are ok, Wolfe-Colman is not (except that actually he is fine). Cord is okay too. Do they draw the line anywhere? I know Liz was right when she said that OF COURSE they were taking the money, but is there really nothing that differentiates that situation from this one? I feel like there should be.

Marissa goes back to see Wackner. Since someone refuses to say “I respect and I love you,” Wackner reverses his ruling. This is part of the “Bad Loser Law of last Wednesday,” so the rules of Wackner’s court are clearly a work in progress.

Marissa explains she can’t be the law clerk because of Diane. She tries to connect him with a real lawyer, still not understanding exactly what Wackner’s after. “You know just enough not to crush what I’m doing here,” Wackner explains. “A real lawyer will look for reasons why not. I need someone to look for reasons why.”

Case stuff happens. I cannot read Cord’s handwriting. Liz and Julius lose the case because Judge Friend says what’s happening isn’t fair, but it is constitutional. (So here we have, at least in the show’s POV, a good and attentive judge who can’t make decisions that make sense because she’s bound by a document written before anyone had ever dreamed of the internet.)

Cord is waiting for Liz in her office. He’s prepared to bankroll an appeal. Did they blow thorough that $12 million already? Impressive; it’s been like a day.

Cord says they are definitely the firm he wants. Interesting.

Now Liz wants a meeting with Carmen, so it’s Marissa who leaves the room. This scene seems like it was meant to be a different day?

Liz wants to talk about Mr. Rapey. Carmen is, yet again, chill about the case. “Carmen, is there anyone that you would not represent?” Liz asks. Funny, Liz, I could ask you the same. Being hesitant about it is not changing the fact that you’re representing bad people. Carmen’s just cutting the bullshit.

“I don’t understand. Is there someone you don’t want me to represent?” I love how Carmen’s incredibly polite responses always seem very pointed. There is absolutely nothing wrong with Carmen’s reply, and yet it puts Liz in a place where she can’t dance around what she’s trying to say.

“I’m just trying to get a sense of who you are,” Liz explains.

Then Liz decides she’s going to help on the Craig Wolfe-Colman (Mr. Rapey) case, and they will keep talking about her career path. Liz, this does not seem like the right solution! You're worried about your associate representing bad people so you’re like, I know, what if I ALSO represented bad people? If your goal is to convince Carmen not to take clients like this, you’re kinda shooting yourself in the foot!

“Are you worried about me?” Carmen says, again turning things on Liz. “I don’t know what I am about you,” Liz replies. Me either. Well, I know I'm intrigued, but beyond that, no clue!

All the bears have ended up in Diane’s office, where Wackner is waiting. He jokes about how his court is always seen as informal, yet this real fancy law office is covered in Build-a-Bears. Then he says he wants to hire RL—he's willing to pay. He wants consultation from Marissa (“consultation on legal issues”) and he’s prepared to spend a lot. And, if there’s one thing we know, it’s that they’re always going to take the money. So, they do.

I love that Wackner’s goal is to “perfect my little clubhouse of the law.” It’s a fun plot, and it also allows for the rules in his court to change (I’m sure we’re going to be treated to/subjected to a lot of whimsical gags around changing and ridiculous rules). It's also a good way to work through the thought experiment over the course of the season. It’s not like Wackner already has a system set up and it’s perfect—I'm sure we’re going to see his system run into issues and explore that more, too.

Wackner monologues a bit here about why he’s running fake court, and he lets us know he’s going to monologue. Basically he thinks people no longer want to help people and are only motivated by their own self interest. He notes that no one talks about the Peace Corps anymore and asks the last time Diane heard anyone say those words. I’m sure I’ve heard a reference more recently but my mind went RIGHT to season one Cary Agos saying “Peace Corps. Belize,” as some kind of smarmy pickup line. This is likely not where my mind was supposed to go.

Wackner wants “A new Peace Corps. For America.” Diane’s sympathetic to that and agrees to take him on as a client.

Wackner asks if he can take a bear. Diane instructs him to take two.

Aaaand Wackner and Cord end up on the elevator together. Wackner hands Cord a bear, the elevator doors close, and the episode ends. Since last episode ended with Marissa and Carmen in the elevator together, I’m hoping this will be how every episode this season ends. I think using the Kings’ favorite liminal space to transition between episodes is kind of fun, and it fits with the ellipses at the end of every episode title.

Speaking of... did you see today’s elevator-themed episode of Evil? It was written by the Kings. Those two have been obsessed with elevators for at least a decade.

#the good fight #tgfthoughts

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