#working out that just cos people can think faster and put together sentences faster than i can that doesnt mean that they are right

[transjemder]

Thinking about times where people mistreated and disrespected me and i sat quietly just hoping it would be over soon. I wish i could go back in time and yell. I wish i could go back and time and walk away

[homoose]

Love Has a Learning Curve: Part IV (x reader)

Summary: Reader visits Spencer at the university and finds that her old insecurities aren’t as dead as she thought.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: hurt/comfort, fluff

Warnings/Includes: implied smut, jealous!reader, insecure!reader, vague mentions of previous emotional/mental abuse (Owen), mentions of cheating (Owen)

Word count: 3.2k

a/n: Owen’s really a piece of shit, huh?

Series Masterlist

———

“Could I come see you teach?”

Spencer looked up from his desk, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “It might be kind of boring. It’s a 100 level Intro to Profiling course.”

She peered over the side of the couch, closing her book. “Well, I don’t know anything about profiling, so an intro course would be right up my alley, don’t you think? And if you’re teaching it, I can guarantee it won’t be boring.”

He scrunched his nose in the way he sometimes did and clicked the cap on his pen once, twice, three times. “If you, um— if you really want to.”

She considered him for a moment before pushing herself up off the couch, coming around it to cross to his desk, perching herself on the corner. “You’ve seen me teach a bunch of times,” she said, knocking their knees together. “It’s only fair.”

He set his pen down and leaned back in his office chair, avoiding her eyes. She pulled her leg back, regretting her decision to ask. “It was just an idea. I don’t have to if you don’t want.”

As she moved to stand, he stopped her with a hand on her knee. “It’s not that. I don’t not want you to,” he clarified. He turned his chair to face her fully, peering up at her with a flush on his cheeks. “I just— I don’t know. You’re such a natural. I’m… awkward. Sometimes they just— stare at me.” 

Y/N scoffed. “I’m sure you’re not awkward.” She twirled one of the curls falling into his face around her finger, releasing it into a soft ringlet. “But seriously, if you don’t want me to come, it’s fine.”

He rolled his chair closer and ran his hands up the tops of her thighs. “I do want you to. Really.” 

He sat up straighter, craning his neck up towards her, and she couldn’t stop herself from smiling. She leaned down to meet his lips, and his hands wandered up to grasp at her hips. She laughed as he pulled her off the desk and practically into his lap, sliding his tongue into her mouth. She let him take it a little further, his hands traveling under her shirt and up over her back. 

When she pulled back to catch her breath, his dazed expression had her heart pounding. Any insecurity that managed to weasel its way into her psyche evaporated every time he looked at her. She ran a soft finger over the bridge of his nose. “Can you take a break?”

“Mhm,” he hummed, standing up and dragging her toward the bedroom with only a little too much enthusiasm. 

… 

“Okay, can I help you with anything?” Y/N asked, setting her bag down on the lecture podium. 

“Actually, yeah. Could you, um— write these topic notes,” he pulled out his notebook and flipped it open, “on that half of the board?”

“You got it, professor.” She accepted the notebook, turning to the board and uncapping the dry erase marker.

They worked quietly together, scrawling his notes across the white board, shoulders brushing comfortably together every so often. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him finish his side, capping the marker and stepping back to watch her. 

“This is much faster with two people. I should hire you.”

“You couldn’t afford my hourly rate,” she teased, leaning down a bit to copy the last bullet point. 

“Is there a boyfriend discount?” he asked, a soft fingertip tracing down her spine. 

She laughed as she capped the marker and set it in the tray, turning to face him and tilting her head in consideration. “Maybe we could work something out.”

He brought his hands to her hips, dug his fingers in, and pulled her closer. “Yeah?” He brushed his lips over hers and stepped forward, nearly pressing her back against the board. 

“Mmhmm,” she agreed, pressing a slow kiss to his mouth. She used her hands on his tummy to push him back a little. “But I charge double if you smudge it.”

“Fair.” He smiled and kissed her again, this time bringing his hands up to cradle her face. 

“As much as I’d love to kiss you forever,” she mumbled against his lips, “your students are going to be here any minute.”

He groaned and leaned his forehead against hers, and she laughed at his petulance. “I’m gonna go to the bathroom, and then I’ll sit up in the back. You won’t even know I’m here.”

He pulled back with a sigh. “You being here is all I’m going to think about.”

She kissed his nose and stepped around him to grab her bag. “I’ll try my best not to distract you.” She made her way off the lecture platform and up the aisle, turning back to ask, “Oh, office hours are right after class?”

“Yeah,” he confirmed, leaning against the lecture podium. “1:00 to 2:00. The quad is beautiful this time of year, and there’s a coffee shop if you wanted to hang out there.”

… 

After her bathroom break, she re-entered the lecture hall as quietly as possible, slipping into the last row of seats and setting her bag down on the desk in front of her. The room was more than two thirds full, with students crammed into the first few rows and then sparsely sprinkled throughout the back half of the room. But she only had eyes for him.

She’d seen him, kissed him less than ten minutes ago, and yet here she was— blushing like a schoolgirl and resisting the urge to pull at her collar.

Even from the back row, she could see the way his suit coat stretched across his broad shoulders, the way the button at the bottom of his cardigan didn’t quite reach, the way his pants pulled taut across his thighs. She’d seen him pick the outfit out of his closet this morning, watched him put it on, even helped him with the knot of the tie. She shouldn’t realistically be this rattled by the sight of him.

But something about the way he set his shoulders back a little, the way his arm moved underneath the fabric as he scrawled an additional note across the board, the way he turned and put his hands in his pockets and waited quietly for the class to settle— felt different.

“We’ve got a lot to cover today. Let’s get started.”

She didn’t pull her collar, but she did remove her jacket— she was suddenly so, so hot, practically sweating— and draped it across the back of the chair. He caught her eye, gave her a small smile, and then launched into a lecture about the foundations of building victimology.

Just as she suspected, he was an absolute natural. Unbelievably knowledgeable of course, but also incredibly enthusiastic and positively captivating. She couldn’t take her eyes off him. 

And neither, it seemed, could the class. She scolded herself for the train of thought— of course they’re looking at him, he’s their professor. But he was right when he’d said that they... stare at him. The class was mostly young women, although the ogling seemed to cross gender lines. 

She couldn’t blame them. He answered questions with ease and gave witty responses to the devil’s advocate types. His enthusiasm was endearing and charming as hell. And, of course, he looked damn good doing it. 

With just over ten minutes left of class, she gathered her jacket and bag, standing quietly and moving into the aisle. She caught his eye as she headed for the door, slightly reassured when she saw a flash of concern in his eyes. She smiled and made a sipping gesture, and he nodded minutely and continued with his lecture. 

…

Fifteen minutes later, she was on her way back down the hallway toward his office, a coffee in each hand. When she turned the corner at 12:57, she was stunned to see that a line was already forming. 

“You gotta be kidding me,” she muttered, approaching the crowd of undergraduates. 

One particularly perky coed stood directly in front of his door, and Y/N cleared her throat. When the girl turned, she held up the coffees and gestured to the door. “I’m so sorry. I— I’m just gonna drop this off. I’ll just be one minute.”

The girl took a small step back, barely allowing Y/N to squeeze through the door left slightly ajar. It creaked slightly as she stepped through it, and Spencer’s head lifted from where he was hunched over his desk. 

“Hey!” He stood and shuffled around the side of the desk.

“Hi.” She forced a smile. “Sorry, I won’t keep you, I just— thought you might like a pick-me-up,” she said, holding out the cup to him. 

He sighed with relief. “You’re a mind reader.” He accepted the coffee cup with a grateful smile. She moved to leave, and he lightly snagged her wrist. “Hey.” He slowly pulled her back toward the desk, his eyes darting down to her mouth. 

She hummed, and he leaned forward to kiss her, moved his hand up to cup her cheek in his warm palm. He sighed into her mouth and gently tugged at her bottom lip with his teeth before pressing a quick peck to it. “Thank you.” He pressed a final kiss to her mouth with chapstick-soft lips. “I’ll see you in an hour?”

“Mhm,” she smiled again, a little more genuinely. “See you then, professor.”

She slipped back through the door, avoiding the curious eyes of the crowd. The hallway felt tight and constricting, and she was grateful for the way the fresh air hit her as she pushed through the door back out into the quad. 

She found an empty seat on a bench and set her coffee and bag down, shuffling through the latter to find her book. She flipped open to her bookmark, sure that she could finish at least two chapters during his office hour. As she attempted to read, however, her mind could not stop turning over the image of Spencer being admired by fifty young, attractive coeds. 

She read the same sentence five times before closing her book with a huff. She closed her eyes and tried to slow her breathing, focusing on a deep inhalation and a long exhale. She carefully packed her book back into her bag, opting instead to sip her coffee and watch the bustle of the quad. 

It wasn’t that she was jealous, exactly. Jealousy wasn’t the right word. She trusted Spencer wholeheartedly. He was honest and kind, and he made it abundantly clear how much he was attracted to her.

She sighed shakily and closed her eyes against the unexpected tears that she could feel brimming just below the surface. It wasn’t jealousy. It was simply the insecurity that had always been there. Well, not always, she supposed, but long enough. Ten years. Owen had been out of her life for nearly half that time, but the mental scars he’d left her with would probably never fully heal. 

She was twenty one years old when they first started dating, and twenty six by the time he ended it. Five years of her life spent with a man who had conditioned her to believe that she had nothing to offer. Her work was insignificant. Her family was low-class. Her friends were irritating. Her laugh was obnoxious. She was immature and loud and annoying and daft. She should be grateful that he was interested in her despite these flaws. 

As if he hadn’t made all of that clear enough, he’d ended their relationship by cheating on her— not once, not twice, but consistently for nearly a year. And it seemed that almost everyone had known about it… except for her. That had been the most humiliating part; he’d had this woman in their bed, and she’d been completely unaware. She had cooked for him, attended his work events, slept beside him, subjected herself to his wrath, and never even considered that he could be with someone else.  

It took years for her to recover and rebuild. Years before she was ready to date again. It required her to construct a foundation of independence and self-love that she’d never had. And nearly five years later, she finally felt beautiful and strong and worthy. 

So why was her mind suddenly replaying every horrid thing Owen had ever said to her? Spencer was nothing like Owen. Spencer was kind, loving, and supportive. He was brilliant, talented, and accomplished. 

She pressed her lips together and swiped a hand under her eye, catching the lone tear that had managed to escape. That was exactly the problem. Spencer was all those wonderful things, and suddenly she couldn’t understand why he wanted her.

She pulled out her phone to check the time, huffing out a breath as she realized she’d spent nearly an hour dredging up old wounds. She closed her eyes and repeated her daily affirmation. I am powerful, and I am capable. I respect and honor my mind and my body. I am worthy, and I am enough. I love myself fully, just as I am. 

Now she just needed to believe it. 

She gathered her things, finishing up the last sips of her coffee before scoping out a garbage can. She tossed her empty cup in the bin on her way back to the building. As she opened the door, the blast of air conditioning cooled her sweaty skin. She stopped by the bathroom to splash her face with cool water, taking barely a moment to look at herself under the harsh fluorescent lights.

She made her way down the hallway, turning the corner to see that there were still three students in line outside Spencer’s office. She checked the time to see that it was technically five minutes past office hours. She dropped quietly into one of the two chairs across the hallway from his door. 

The other chair was occupied by a student, quite clearly waiting for Spencer, judging by the heavy sigh that accompanied his glance up at the office door. Y/N almost laughed at the way he aggressively checked his watch, tapping his foot rapidly on the floor. 

“Is it— um. Is it always like this?” She gestured to Spencer’s door. 

The tapping stopped, and the kid turned to her with another sigh. “Every. Goddamn. Time.” He shrugged his shoulders. “I mean, I get it. I do. But, man. I’m just trying to ask about the structure of the final. This is the third week in a row that I’ve been here and I still haven’t seen him.” He checked his watch again and then ran a hand over his face. “And now I gotta get to my next class. I’m gonna have to leave early next week to camp out,” he joked.

He stood and gathered his things, and Y/N did laugh a little then. “Good luck.”

He waved and headed off down the hallway, and Y/N turned back to see a girl leaving out through Spencer’s half-open door, looking positively dreamy. She barely resisted the urge to roll her eyes as the next girl stepped through the door. 

She waited another twenty minutes for the final two students to finish their visits. When the last student made her way out the door and down the hall, Y/N stood and smoothed down the skirt of her dress. She crossed the hallway and peered into his office, knocking on the door frame.

Spencer raised his head with a panicked look, his face softening into relief when he saw it was her. “Hey. Close the door,” he begged.

Y/N stepped into his office and closed the door quietly behind her. She finally took a look around the space— fairly small but tastefully decorated. The wall across from her was one enormous bookcase, filled to capacity, of course. Light filtered in from a single window, and his mahogany desk sat on the far wall, accompanied by a wing back leather office chair. Behind his desk was a low shelf lined with a globe, some other trinkets, and a plethora of picture frames. 

“Sorry that took so long.” He ran a hand over his face. “I don’t know why my office hours are always so busy.”

She hummed, crossing to the gigantic bookshelf. “No?”

“No,” he confirmed exasperatedly. “No one else has that many students at their office hours. I asked.”

She laughed a little. “You asked?”

“Well, yeah.” He drew his brows together. “I don’t know if my syllabus is confusing, or if I’m— not clear enough in my lectures, maybe?” He dragged both hands through his hair and leaned back in his chair. “But there are always so many questions, and I mean— there are no stupid questions, but…” He sighed. “Sometimes the questions are stupid.”

She did laugh at that, full and loud. “Well, if my professors looked like Dr. Spencer Reid, I imagine I’d come up with a litany of questions, too. Stupid or otherwise.”

He was quiet, and she ran her finger along the book she was studying rather intently. She felt him moving toward her more than heard it, felt his eyes on her. She couldn’t bring herself to look at him, instead pretending to peruse the titles in front of her, books full of theories that she’d never be able to understand. 

“Are you— are you jealous?” he asked incredulously. 

“No,” she defended, a little too quickly and voice a little too high.

“It’s okay if you are. Jealousy is— it’s a very normal human emotion.” He cleared his throat. “It’s, um— it’s kind of hot, actually.”

She rolled her eyes, but his confession made her feel a little bit better. He put a hand on her waist to turn her to face him, and she could feel her cheeks burning— hoped he couldn’t see it. She couldn’t quite meet his eyes, instead staring at a spot on the wall behind his head. 

“But you know you have no reason to be, right?” He cupped a gentle hand under her chin, finally brought her eyes to his. “Why would I be interested in girls when I already have a woman?”

When she didn’t say anything, he continued, “A woman who brings me coffee, and buys gifts for my fish, and helps me make PowerPoints, and goes to fancy dinners at Le Chateau LaMontagne.” 

Her lips twitched into the start of a smile, and he brought his hands down to lace their fingers together. “Who forgives me when I mess up, and lets me cry on her shoulder at 3:00am, and helps me be a better person.” 

She sniffed but tried to lighten the mood. “She sounds pretty great.”

“She is great. She’s remarkable.” He tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. “I love you.”

And there was that look again. Spencer looked at her like she’d hung the moon and the stars and every single celestial body in the galaxy. Like the answer to every question was contained within her atoms. It was almost enough to have her believing it, too. Maybe someday she would.

She squeezed his hand. “I love you, too.” For now, that was enough.

———

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[xo-cuteplosion-xo]

Asorted ADA x Reader | The "happy" friend

BSD misc. Reader insert

Warnings- mentions of suicidal thoughts. Mentions of Verbal and mild physical abuse.

The happy co-worker, happy friend, happy ex, happy girlfriend. No matter what you pushed it on to yourself. So many of your peers had it worse. Look at Dazai, he manages to smile and joke despite his pain. You thought you could do it too. So, that’s what you did. Since you joined the agency. You never let them see you break down. They never got to see you cry. They never got to see you under anything but happy. Even if you were annoyed, you held onto your smile. There were so many orphans among your mighty crew of detectives. The ones you were the closest to, you confirmed them to be orphans from a young age. Dazai, parentless at 14. He may have been an orphan for even longer than that. You just know he didn’t have any at 14. Then there was Atsushi, who had lived his whole childhood abused in an orphanage. Kyoka, she lost her parents to her ability. The others you were not too sure about, but the sneaking suspicion this organization was full of gifted orphans, was high.

Then there was you. A girl, no older than Dazai. Not the best looking, at least that’s what you told yourself. The others had no idea about your insecurities regarding your body. Maybe you were too tall, too short, too thin, too fat. Some days were better than others. Some days the situation flipped. There was always something you could nit-pick about yourself. Your mind wandered constantly back to the words of your parents. “Not skinny enough, too skinny. Not fit enough, but don’t be too fit. Men don’t like to be threatened.” you had parents. Maybe they weren't the best but you had parents. They were a bit abusive with words but never had they placed a finger on you. Well, there were a few times but it was normal right? For a parent to lose their cool and lash out once or twice, maybe even a handful of times over the years. They judged you for your choice of occupation and the people you hung around. They called you out on outfits and the way you acted. That’s why you were here now. Far from them, but their words still haunted you. In truth, you feared them but wanted their approval.

Today, you stood with your coworkers finishing up the latest job. You hummed in your outfit. It covered your arms, which you already bandaged but wanted to keep that a secret. The things you did to keep this false joy were extreme. The things you took in impacted your state. Listening to Atsushi, holding Kyoka when she broke down. Hell, you were even there to scold Dazai and occasionally listen to his drunk words. The tales of how much he had suffered broke you. Even Kunikida learned to confide in you. He would tell you about his stress, and the pain he felt about past mistakes that resulted in his ideals being missed or broken. There was nobody in the agency who didn’t trust you with their problems. To them, you had none. They were okay with talking to you. They felt better after talking to you. That’s how it worked.

Biting the inside of your cheek, your feet moved to Kunikida. You knew he’d want to talk about this one. He hated seeing people killed before his eyes. He’d already nearly beaten Dazai for letting the boy die. Atsushi was off in the corner, fidgeting around with the tight atmosphere. You had arrived a little too late to prevent the death of the kidnapped child. Things like this happened, mistakes were bound to happen but… they had larger effects on some than they did on others. Dazai was facing the wall, his hands in fists. His head against the wall. You could tell he was blaming himself. Atsushi just felt awkward being here. “Kunikida?” you whispered trying to keep a joyful yet soft tone to your voice. Your hand reached out to tap his shoulder only for him to slap it away with a heavy glare.

“How can you smile like that? Somebody died in front of us and all you do is smile! You're always smiling no matter what happens! Do you even understand what’s going on right now? We failed (Y/n). Do you need somebody to explain to you what you should be doing right now?” his voice kept raising pitch by pitch. It sent flashes along your eyes. The way your father's voice would start soft and gradually get louder by the second, until he slammed a fist against the wall and screamed at you. Those yells always ended in the verbal assault. The comments on your form, the comments on your social life, and the useless degrees and jobs you had.

The wince you suppressed went unnoticed. The shaking of your hands is easily hidden behind you. Hands clasped together as your eyes trailed Kunikida. His body stood towering over you. Heavily glaring as he turned away. “I just wanted to make sure you were alright.” you tilted your head to play this off with a smile.

It was no help to your situation. He pushed past you, heading for the building exit he froze in the doorway. “We have to go tell a parent we failed to save a child's life. Do you understand how hard that is for a parent? How could I be alright? How can any of us be alright?” he was one step from overfilling your glass. The cracks forming were starting to show. Your eyes unable to meet his eyes. “You can be heartless and an idiot at times. Smiling in the presence of death.” there it was, the same words you had gotten at your grandmother's funeral. You’d tried to stay strong for your mother. You only knew how to smile. You knew no other way of staying strong. Hearing it from a friend sent you into overdrive.

“Shut up.” you hissed through clenched teeth.

This time Atsushi seemed to join in. shocked by your sudden negativity. He had never seen you like this. None of them had ever seen you drop a smile. “Are you mad?” Atsushi asked before you shook it off and smiled.

“Huh? Of course not! I'm just as normal as ever! I don’t know what you mean? Did I seem mad? Sorry, guess I just let that slip. I meant to say you shouldn’t assume I'm heartless, just cause I'm still… happy! I feel the pain you guys feel over this! I just think we should move over this!” giving a closed smile, Kunikida's raised voice washed over the room again.

“Move past?! We could have saved them if we had been a bit faster in getting here! The kid wasn’t supposed to die! Stop smiling and grasp the situation! Stop being insensitive to your acting just like Dazai does sometimes!” Were you that bad? Was it really that bad to just want to stay happy? “You have everything perfect, you can’t even grasp the situation!” you couldn’t do this anymore. His words were starting to turn from accusations to frustration. He was taking his pain out on you. Instead of doing it in the kind form he normally used, he was using anger to express how hurt he was right now.

Unable to take any more of the words he spat, you dropped it all. His words were getting on the triggering side. The words he spat slowly started to inch closer and closer to your parents' words. Words that made you have to act like this. “I can’t do this anymore,” you whispered trying to keep your tears locked inside. It was useless though. The container shattered as his words brushed by your ears. Faded and fuzzy, the world drifted away. You were pulled back into the world by a brunette. His slender hands shaking your shoulders. You shoved him away glaring.

“Woah, she’s pissed,” Atsushi whispered before you shook your head looking at the ceiling, you smiled.

“No Atsushi, I'm sad, for lack of a better word. I want to walk up the stairs of a very tall building and dive into nothingness. I want to lay down with a bottle of whiskey and drink myself into sweet relief. I want to look in the mirror and like the way I look. I want to walk to my parents with the courage to tell them I'm perfect no matter what I look like. I want to tell them that what I do for a living makes me strong. I want to have the strength to shout and tell them I don't need a man to dictate my life. I want to scream at them that the only man I want is a man who isn’t afraid of a fierce, strong, and independent woman.” the words fell from your lips as your tears fell. They fell through your smile. The happy look stuck to your face.

“(y/n)...” Kunikida started before you chuckled, closing his sentence off.

“Aren't I just perfect? I hate my body, I hate my personality. I hate everything about myself. I hate my gift, nobody would like the real me. Nobody knows the real me. Hell, I don't even know the real me. I am nothing without my smile. But… it's okay as long as I can keep smiling! I can just fake it until it's real. I fooled all of you, didn’t I? I really seemed happy! Even I was starting to think I was! But then, I get home, look in the mirror, and all I can see is a useless shell.” your voice stopped before you were wrapped in bandaged arms. Those arms ran over your back to pull at your arms. Concerned hazel brushing skilled tender fingers under the cloth of your sleeves. Those fingers dancing over the white cloth. His hair falling over his now darkened eyes.

“You too…” he whispered just as you yanked away your arms and held them, still keeping a smile.

Of course, he had to lift your spirits just a bit. So, as you looked away unable to meet his gaze, he got to one knee and pulled your hand to him with a smirk. Kunikida facepalmed realizing the words the brunette would spout next. “Dazai, this was a crime scene. Are you seriously going to… I'm going to kill you!” he shouted stomping over to you two.

Dazai’s eyes met yours as he put his playful smile on. “Would you commit a double suicide with me~?” he hummed before being shoved into a wall. “Kunikidaaaaa! Why would you do something so cruel?!” he dramatically put a hand over his chest and his other hand on his forehead. Kunikida clicked his tongue, turning to you. His eyes reflected only guilt, as if your outburst had been all his fault. Even if you had been dying to talk to somebody about the crumbling emotions for months.

“I’ll think about it, Dazai-san!” you playfully responded to his request. For a moment you truly did feel a flutter of joy.

“I swear if you start doing his habits, I will add to your paperwork!” the worst kind of threat. A threat that made both you and Dazai cringe but chuckle.

“We should get going.” you hummed looking up to the ceiling again. “We do have a family to comfort.” Everybody fell serious and nodded.

[foodieforthoughts]

Sand and Stars - Prologue

Series Summary: After the water pump being blown up, the insurgents in Baqubah are taking a hold of the food supply to the village. Camp Warhorse is in dire need of reinforcements. It has been eight months of submitting countless requests when the High Command commissions Sergeant Olivia Ross to take her group of men and women and help Captain Syverson and his team to restore a semblance of normalcy. But with the war raging, does it get two hearts closer too?

Pairing: Captain Syverson x OFC x OMC

Word Count: 1925

Warnings: 18+, Mentions of war, military technicalities, smut in future chapters

A/N: This (x) has finally taken birth. I am very excited about this fic, it is literally the only thing I can focus on right now. A big thanks to @thelastsock​ for beta-ing this. Sending her lot of love and good health, always. Please don’t come down on me if I have gotten any of the army-related things wrong, because this is a work of fiction.

Title: Prologue

Olivia Ross was everything but a heavy sleeper. She slept like a feral cat ready to jump at even the slightest bit of disturbance. And that is why she was wide awake at 3 a.m.

The sound of Alex’s snores, deep and rumbling, echoed from beside her. A strong arm was draped tightly over her torso-his bull’s head tattoo peeking out from under his sleeve. Olivia looked to her side and sighed.

She hated sneaking out of his room the next day. The walk of shame she could take-her squad mates were already bored by the gossip of yesteryears-but the imminent questioning that Alex would barrage her with later, was what broke her.

Carefully, Olivia moved his arm from over her body and slid out from the bunk bed they were sharing. She watched as Alex turned to the other side and a moment later, continued snoring; oblivious to the loss of bodily warmth from besides him.

Grabbing her discarded clothes piled on the floor and hurriedly pulling them on, Olivia grabbed her dog tags from the table. Her eyes also fell on the other chain lying on the metal desk; a Saint Christopher Medal in a silver chain which Alex had gotten for her the last time he had flown home. Reluctantly, she grabbed the chain and wore it with her dog tags and swiftly snuck out of the Captain’s room.

As soon as Olivia was out in the corridors of the Baghdad base camp, the sweet noise of military men going about their duties graced her ears. She looked around as she made her way towards the ladies quarters; some of the men were loading up their Humvees for a patrol around the city, a few of them out for their morning run and then there were others like her who were hurrying away to reach their beds.

Closing the door to her quarters, Olivia was met with two sets of narrowed eyes looking at her. “Busy night there, Sergeant Ross?” The smugness in their voices, nothing new but annoying nonetheless, made Olivia roll her eyes.

“Aren’t you guys supposed to be sleeping?” She laid on her bed-her legs dangling from the ends-feeling relaxed more than she was when sleeping next to Alex.

A loud bang on the hard metal door interrupted them. A young private recruit peaked inside, her cheeks going red as she came face to face with her seniors.

Raising her head from her bed, Olivia looked at the blushing Private edging around the door. “What is it, Private?”

“Uhm…”

“You need to speak faster, sister. No one’s going to be waiting that long for you to finish your sentences.” Sergeant Sloan, a blond beauty with Victoria’s Secret model’s look, said from her bunk on the other side of the room.

“I was told to get Sergeant Ross to Lieutenant Crowley.”

Olivia nodded at the soldier and she hurried out, closing the door behind her. “What does Crowley want?”

“Hopefully, he sends us somewhere. I’m tired of looking at the same old shaved heads around here.” Corporal Sierra said from her corner of the room. Both the ladies laughed at their joke, Sloan snorting while laughing and Sierra basking in her comedic skills. Olivia smiled looking at her fellow bunk mates, loving their laughter ringing in the dilapidated and make-shift room.

After taming her wild bed hair into a braid and pulling on a fresh set of clothes to meet the lieutenant, Olivia made her way towards the central meeting hub. Lieutenant Crowley was a balding man in his late fifties, irritating beyond belief and the epitome of a male chauvinist. Olivia looked at him while he shuffled through his folders and pulled out one to hand over to her.

“You need to go to Baqubah.” His nasally voice ordered, his height an inch shorter than hers.

“Sir?” Olivia looked down at the brown manila folder in her hand. Camp Warhorse was written below the bold printed letters of Baqubah.

“They had a water problem which was not fixed and now the militants have been targeting the food supply trucks entering the city.” He pulled out another folder from underneath the table, handing it to her with a grunt. “They need air support, but Command wants us to only send one. You can take the Little Bird and two Humvees with any twelve members for your unit. I’m making you responsible for the mission.”

“What are we to do there? Can’t we just drop food rather than driving it in-?” Olivia opened the first folder to find a letter of co-ordinates and sitreps from the Captain stationed at the camp.

“They have asked for help. You’ll meet with the Captain there and gauge the situation personally. Is that clear, Sergeant?”

When anyone pulls rank on the other, it usually means the conversation is over. So, Olivia with her two manila folders, nodded at Lieutenant Crowley and turned to walk away. “Sergeant, you leave in two hours.”

Perfect. She turned to nod at the Lieutenant who had already sat down to get back to his work.

Olivia made her way back towards the quarters from the hub. The base camp looked more alive now that almost everyone was awake. Loud music blared from the speakers with shirtless men playing basketball or getting their daily workout in. Olivia opened the folder and took the first paper in her hand; it was a sitrep from eight months ago from Captain Syverson about the blast at the water pump they were supposedly fixing. She went through the report, noticing Sergeant Harper’s name whom she personally knew from a previous mission.

Lost in her task at hand, Olivia missed the man coming her way and bumped into him, her steps faltering behind with the impact. When she looked up, the unmistaken glare of two narrowed blue-green eyes met her own. She let out a sigh even before he could speak another word.

“Captain Cooper,” She greeted the man whom she had only left a couple of hours ago. “Good morning.”

“You snuck out, again.” The harshness in his voice made Olivia remember why she despised this particular exchange of words in the morning. Alex, unlike the state she had left him in, was now dressed in his army pants and the beige army t-shirt with his hair groomed to the nines. Never a day did Alex show up with disheveled hair and unshaven, he was always the well-groomed kind of man that romance novels idealized about.

“Crowley wanted me for a briefing,” she showed him the folders, “We leave for Baqubah in under two hours. Going to be delivery guys for them.”

Alex scrunched his eyebrows as his attention from last night’s shenanigans were drawn to the mission at hand. He took the folders from her and shifted through the papers. “Baqubah? Wasn’t there an unsuccessful mission already?”

The change in his tone, from the attention seeking friend to a decorated military man, made Olivia realize why she had fallen for him in the first place. It was that very dedication to his work, the life choice that he had made, that had made her pursue him like an eagle does it’s prey.

Too bad the eagle realized it wasn’t really hungry.

“Liv?” Alex asked, the long lashes lining his eyes fluttering as he looked at her.

“Yeah, but there’s an insurgence of militants and food supply shortage.” He handed the folders back to her, crossing his arms over his chest. The sleeve of his t-shirt stretched over his muscles, revealing the tattoos on either side of his arms. A single vein stretched over each of his bulging biceps, taunting her with the memories of her tracing it with her fingertips.

Olivia shook her head, choosing to look behind Alex and spotting her unit coming her way. “I need to go. I haven’t even told my people.” She started to walk away when Alex held her wrist. She looked at him wide-eyed and frantically looked around to see if anyone was looking at them. This was the first time Alex was being so forthcoming about their twisted relationship out in the open.

“Were you going to at least say goodbye?”

Olivia froze hearing the pain in his voice. She did not wish to discuss whatever was going on between them. In a deep corner of her mind, she was secretly happy that she was being sent away from the base camp. It meant she could think about a way to gently let Alex know that they were done.

“Alex,” the use of his informal name, always made him smile. Olivia used it to her advantage on more than one occasion. “We need to head out. I need to brief them. Please can we do this later?”

She wanted to wait for his answer but when her eyes darted to the makeshift clock hanging on the wall, that the men had put together one night after getting drunk on local liquor, showed she had over an hour and half to roll out; Olivia mouthed a ‘sorry’ and walked away. She hated when she left Alex standing like that, alone and dejected. She was the cause of this shit-show, but she had no idea how to end it.

“Groundhog, this is echo 1-1, we are set to fly out the nest. Over.” Sergeant Gary Schmidt, Olivia's most trusted co-pilot, said into the communications line. They had gathered a group of twelve soldiers, including Olivia’s bunk mates Sloan and Sierra and were now ready to leave for Camp Warhorse. The blades of their chopper, the beautiful and reliable MH-6 Little Bird, whirred by cutting the dry air of Baghdad.

“This is Groundhog to Echo 1-1. You are cleared for flight. Over.”

Olivia looked to her right at Schmidt and gave a thumbs up. “Echo 1-1 is flying out. Welcome on board, people.” She said into her comms, controlling the stick and feeling the skids lift off from the ground.

In an unplanned glance towards the tarmac, Olivia caught sight of Alex standing a few feet away with his face impassive; lips pursed tight and eyes covered with shades, the last thing Olivia saw before they flew off from the Baghdad Base Camp.

“What a dump of desert and sand, Red.” Schmidt said into the comms to her, making her smile being referenced by her nickname and distracting her from the unsettling feeling she had by looking at Alex. Her command officer had jokingly compared her hair to fire after one heated argument she had with a fellow soldier and called her ‘Red’, making the name become a core part of her identity. “Baqubah better be forgiving.” Schmidt continued as they turned towards the road leading up to the destroyed city.

An hour into the flight and their comms came alive. “This is Warhorse to Echo 1-1.” Olivia looked at her co-pilot and nodded her head to take over the communications. In the distance, over the expanse of the dry desert, the heat was coming down hard on them, making little beads of sweat form on the underside of their helmets.

“Echo 1-1, receiving, over.”

“Echo 1-1, this is Captain Syverson,” the previous emotionless voice was replaced by a strongly accented one. Olivia was borderline impressed by Syverson's command in his voice. She looked at Schmidt at the same time he did-they always referred to each other as ‘twins’ because their minds were almost always in sync. “The tarmac is ready for your landing. Welcome to Warhorse.”

Chapter One>

✨Series Masterlist✨

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[mammons-sugarbaby]

The bros reading MC’s diary Part II: Romantic!

Lucifer ⦁ He'd started giving MC piano lessons after their RAD classes, they'd requested it and he wasn't going to pass up a chance to show off his talents. ⦁ After MC leaves he notices they forgot their things, namely a few schoolbooks and notebooks ⦁ He also notices when he gathers them up that one notebook seems different than the others and opens it to see what it is ⦁ It's a daily journal of their time in the devildom ⦁ He flips through a few more pages and lands on a page that, to his surprise, is about him ⦁ He goes to the beginning and sees where it becomes less about general happenings and more about him

Diary Content ⦁ "Lucifer agreed to teach me how to play the piano! I've already been practicing a little so he would be impressed at how quickly I learned. I feel bad for lying but... It's a chance to be close to him, to get him to notice me. Sometimes it's hard to concentrate with him right next to me, and when our hands brush against each other...It take everything in me to keep my composure!"

⦁ "I'm so excited! Lucifer is taking me to Restaurant Six tomorrow! He says it's to reward me for my hard work, both for my RAD classes, and how well I've done in our piano lessons! My heart was beating so fast when he asked if I would like to go. I'm going to go shopping later for an outfit to wear, it has to be something special! I know it's just a treat but....I'm just going to pretend we're on a date."

⦁ "I'm so embarrassed! I was waiting for Lucifer in the music room and I started daydreaming about us sitting next to each other. Lucifer turned to me and our eyes met and I confessed my feelings and....then he leaned in and kissed me! So I was shocked when Lucifer was right in front of me suddenly asking if I was okay. For a second I thought the kiss had actually happened...But he just said we had better start lessons...and I was too nervous through the whole thing I kept messing up...I think I irritated him because he said that I I obviously wasn't able to pay attention and that continuing would be a waste of time..."

His Reaction ⦁ He had been surprised at how quickly MC had learned and suspected they knew more than they let on, and though he wanted to be mad or disappointed about the lying, he was actually impressed with the lengths they went to get his attention. He made a mental note to be more....attentive during their next lesson.

⦁ Lucifer recalled his shock at how well MC had dressed for the occasion, he hadn't expected them to go all out. At the time he felt a little guilty for not putting more effort in his attire, but seeing how MC stared at him and how they blushed when he looked at them or complimented them, he doubted they cared. He would ask them again when he had some free time, this time he would specify that this time was more of a...romantic occasion.

⦁ He recalled that day well, he had entered the music room and saw MC staring at nothing, a hint of a blush on their face. It had taken a few moments for him to get their attention, and now their reaction when they snapped out of it made sense. He felt bad now because he had snapped at them, but he would make it up to them in the future. He looked forward to teasing them, and....he'd be lying if he said he hadn't thought about kissing them at times.

Mammon ⦁ He was looking through MC's stuff to sell for quick grim ⦁ Finds an intricate looking book, it's looks expensive ⦁ He opens it and notices its a scrapbook ⦁ He soon realizes that there a lot of cut outs and pictures of him ⦁ And there are full pages of writing ⦁ Of course he's going to read about what they have to say about him, The Great Mammon!

Diary Content ⦁ "Managed to sneak in another magazine that featured Mammon without anyone noticing, I'd be so embarrassed if anyone found this book. I feel like a kid with a crush drawing hearts all over everything but...it's fun, and it's not like anyone is actually going to see. I'm almost embarrassed at all the times I've written about confessing to him."

⦁ "He makes my heart stop sometimes I swear, every time he looks at me, my mouth goes dry and I feel like I can't breath for a minute. He's just so damn hot. And he's funny too! And even when he's hyped up about another plan to make quick grim, even if it makes absolutely no damn sense, I can't help but nod along and want his plan to succeed."

⦁ "I know it's dumb but I just want to march over to him one day and demand to know how he feels about me. Sometimes he acts all flustered around me and his face looks like he's blushing, but then he says something that dismisses everything and just...crushes me a little. Today we were hanging out and one of his brothers teased him about being around me all the time and he told them it wasn't like he wanted to, he was just helping me with classwork. Which he was, and poorly at that, but it hurt a lot, I had to get out of there before he saw me cry. He apologized later but....he just gives off such mixed signals...I wish he'd just say how he actually felt."

His Reaction ⦁ He's floored, he had absolutely no idea they felt this way. At most he just thought they were a fan of his. But they were right, they had written what seemed like a hundred different ways of confessing their feelings to him. He felt his get hotter and hotter with each page he read.

⦁ He had just figured MC was kinda shy and was supportive towards everyone. He even thought they were fake laughing at his dumb jokes to make him feel better, especially since everyone usually groaned and said his joke was stupid. But the fact that they actually found him attractive and funny? He wanted to run to MC and wrap them in a bear hug.

⦁ Mammon hadn't realized he'd been hurting MC all this time, making them feel like he was stringing them along. He just got so embarrassed and didn't want anyone know how he felt about MC. He already got so much shit from his brothers, teasing him about falling for the human wasn't appealing. But he'd take their teasing over continuing to hurt MC this way. He couldn't bring himself to admit his feelings outright, but he wouldn't deny them anymore. 

Levi ⦁ He'd gone into MC's room to retrieve some games and manga he'd lent them ⦁ He saw a pile of books near a neat stack of games and assumed they'd left it on their desk for him. ⦁ It wasn't until he got back to his room and was organizing them that he realized he grabbed a book that wasn't his. ⦁ He opened it then quickly shut it after realizing it was their diary. ⦁ He argued with himself to read or not to read, but he saw his name! ⦁ Deciding, he opened the diary again, he just had to know what they were writing about him

Diary Content ⦁ "Hung out with Levi in his room today. He was watching a new show, as usual, and I asked if I could join him. He said sure, but there wasn't a whole lot of space to sit, so I tried clearing away a few things so I could sit beside him without being too close. But I guess I was still nervous being so close to him because I kept fidgeting and bouncing my legs. Eventually he got annoyed and grabbed my legs and put them in his lap!! I was so shocked my brain felt like it short circuited."

⦁ "While I was playing co-op mode with Levi tonight, he got in a rough spot and I ended up saving him. You would have thought I'd saved his actual life! He threw his arms around me and told me I was the best player-2 ever!! My heart was pounding, he usually wasn't so...hands on? I'm probably weird for thinking about it, but I imagined him kissing my cheek."

⦁ "Every day I feel like it gets harder and harder to be around Levi, I get so....tongue tied! And my heart feels like its beating a thousand times a minute! My face gets so hot and i feel like I can't even look at him or I'll confess on the spot! I haven't been hanging out with him as much because....I really like him but I'm sure that he'd think having a 'normie' crush on him would be lame and gross. And he seems so down lately I just want to cheer him up and see him smile again! Maybe I can give him head pats to cheer him up? It would give me an excuse to touch him at least..."

His Reaction ⦁ He remembered that night, mainly because when he had realized what he'd done, he got so embarrassed. MC had been really quiet and would barely look at him, of course they'd be disgusted by a gross otaku like him...

⦁ His brain had to take a moment to process the last sentence. They wanted him to....KISS them??? He hadn't thought about it when he had hugged them because he was so happy, but afterwards he couldn't stop thinking about it, how he wanted to wrap his arms around them again, to hold them..

⦁ So THAT'S why they had been avoiding him!! He thought after the previous two events, they were grossed out by him but....they liked him?? Like liked him?? He honestly couldn't wrap his head around it, he wanted to think it was some trick but....this was MC's diary, why would they lie about something that was only meant for their eyes?? MC liked him....as more that a friend....He couldn't get them out of his head for the rest of the day.

Satan ⦁ MC returned some books he'd lent them ⦁ While putting them away, Satan realized they'd accidentally given him one of their books ⦁ They'd already left though, he opened it to see what the book was about ⦁ It was a thick journal and he realized it was specifically a diary ⦁ And the page he'd opened to was about him ⦁ Intrigued, he sat down and flipped to the first page.

Diary Content ⦁ "Satan offered me a few books today that he enjoyed and suggested we start reading together so we could talk about them. I pointed out he's a much faster reader and he said we could limit it to a few chapters a week. He's so considerate and I really would love to share something like that with him! I know he gets a bad rep for being the avatar of wrath but he's surprisingly gentle most of the time. And I like a lot of the books he reads, so we have that in common. And if there's something I liked but he didn't personally find interesting, he still talks with me about it in detail and lets me be excited. Usually people ould just brush me off because they didn't care."

⦁ "I went to Satan's room earlier to hang out but he was so engrossed in reading I don't think he noticed me come in. I just found a spot to sit and started playing on my d.d.d, but I couldn't help but get distracted by him. I love watching his facial expressions while he reads, if he's around others his face gives nothing away, but when he's alone, or with me, that mask falls. He finally noticed me when I giggled at his shocked expression and seemed embarrassed, but I told him it was something on my phone. I would hate for him to put that mask up around me, I like seeing him openly himself."

⦁ "Today I almost pulled a huge pile of books on myself by accident. I didn't realize when I was trying to get a book from the top shelf that there were books piled on top of it! Luckily Satan was there to catch it before it fell and warned me to be careful. But when he stepped in to stop the books, he'd grabbed my shoulder and pulled me against him, like he was trying to shield me. Then when the books had steadied, he turned me around and asked if I was okay. The look of concern on his face...I can tell he cares about me. I know he didn't mean anything by it, but I swear my heart fluttered for the rest of the evening. I know I liked him before that but...is it cliche to say I think I fell in love? Maybe not that serious but....I definitely have strong feelings for him."

His Reaction ⦁ He was touched at MC's words, he already felt like they were a kindred spirit, but this really made him feel even more drawn to them. He loved being able to talk about a story with them; and realized soon after they had arrived and started reading together that they weren't as fast a reader, which made sense he'd been reading for much longer than they had been alive. He knew how it felt to be dismissed, and even if he didn't find a particular book to his liking, hearing MC's thoughts and feelings on it somehow made him see it in a different light.

⦁ He hadn't realized he let his guard down around MC so much, it almost made him embarrassed to know they had seen him make all sorts of silly faces, but reading that they enjoyed him being comfortable around them made him smile. He did trust them, more than he realized. And it didn't appear that they were aware that they too, made silly faces while reading. But they didn't hide it when they were around everyone else, in fact the only time he'd see them have a blank expression while reading, was when they were reading something erotic. He laughed because when he asked what they were reading to make their face so intense, they immediately turned red and they got embarrassed.

⦁ He remembered that day, how he saw the books teetering on the edge, that sharp worried feeling, and the way they felt against him when he pulled them back. He was able to stop the books from falling, but he was actually prepared to shield them with his body. And seeing their face, wide-eyed and a light blush across their cheeks, he was surprised at the restraint he had; because right then he had wanted nothing more than to lean in and kiss them. But he didn't think that they held the same feelings for him and didn't want to make them uncomfortable. But now he knew they felt they same way, and reading about them falling in love, even jokingly, left him smiling for the rest of the day.

Asmo ⦁ He went into MC's room to show off some new beauty products he'd bought ⦁ They weren't in their room, so he texted them, they replied they'd be there shortly ⦁ he takes a seat on their bed and notices a notebook on their nightstand ⦁ He opens it and sees it's their diary ⦁ And more importantly, they're writing about him

Diary Content ⦁ "I almost managed to flirt back at Asmo with a straight face today. Almost. He's too good! Whenever I do manage to flirt back, the next thing he says leaves me a stuttering mess...I know he flirts with everyone so of course he's going to be amazing at it, but I wish I could fluster him at least once! I think he would look really cute being a blushing mess."

⦁ "It's hard not to take him seriously with the things he says sometimes. It's too easy to read into things. I know he's just teasing me and he doesn't mean the things he says, but sometimes....like today, we were sitting next to each other and he just! Put his arms around me! And said I was one of the cutest humans he'd ever seen!! He's seen thousands of humans, I don't see how I could possibly compare. I even said so and he took my face in his hands and had this really serious look on his face. He told me I shouldn't be so critical of myself and he knows cute when he sees cute! Then he told me we need to have a self care day soon."

⦁ "Asmo!!!! Kissed my cheek!!! Then whispered in my ear!!! All he said was "See you later~" but!!! I swear I couldn't speak for a solid 10 minutes. I sat there and daydreamed about kissing him back, and wrapping my arms around him, and holding hands, and going on cute dates, and all that during class! I missed everything!! And there's a test coming up.....The boy is going to be the death of me, especially if I fail this test and Lucifer finds out....Still...as pathetic as it might be to actually have a crush on the avatar of lust, knowing full well he doesn't feel the same way, it's just how he acts...I might just tell him how I feel so he can shoot me down and I can get over this silly little crush."

His Reaction ⦁ He loved when MC tried to flirt with him, loved seeing their face and seeing them try so hard to act unphased. There was a time or two when they actually had said something that caught him off-guard and made him blush, but he's well practiced at  hiding his feelings. 

⦁ He remembered that day! MC was wearing such a cute outfit and looked absolutely stunning, he couldn't help himself! And then when they put themself down it made his stomach drop. He couldn't believe they actually tried to compare themself. He wanted to go on a who lecture about how everyone has something about them that shines and they shouldn't compare themself, but them again he technically compared them to all the other humans he'd seen....He still meant what he said though, yes physically they were cute, but they sounded cute, acted cute, just....everything about them he found endearing. Even when they were angry, or sad, he thought the were one of the most attractive beings he'd laid eyes on. It threw him off when he thought about it too much, so he did what he did best and deflected, and pushed those thoughts and feelings down. But he couldn't just let them continue to think that they couldn't compare! So he suggested a self care day to try and lift their spirits.

⦁ Oh honey....he wasn't joking. More and more he found himself being serious when he flirted and asked after them. After a while he realized he was pursuing them, it was shocking because usually he was the one being pursued. He had figured MC had developed a crush on him, who wouldn't?? But it made him feel strange because he reciprocated their feelings. He started to plan to ask them on a date under the guise of studying, since they were...distracted during class. He didn't want them to get punished if the failed a test. Lucifer would blame him and tell him he wasn't allowed MC. He wouldn't follow the rules of course, but it would be a pain to try and sneak around to see MC. His thoughts wandered and he imagined kissing MC, something he'd done plenty of times before, but this time it made him blush and he felt giddy and nervous.

Beel ⦁ To be fair, MC told him he could borrow their study notes, but didn't tell him where in their room they left the notebook ⦁ He sees what he assumes is the notebook on their bed and grabs it and heads to his room ⦁ Once he gets settled, he opens it and reads half the page before it clicks that these are definitely not study notes ⦁ This is their diary, and they were writing about him ⦁ He shuts it so fast, super embarrassed, but he can't stop thinking about what he'd read ⦁ Guilty, he opens it to read more

Diary Content ⦁ "Beel asked today if I wanted to go with him to Hell’s Kitchen, he heard they had one of my favorite foods back in stock. I was surprised and asked him how he knew it was one of my favorites, I had only eaten it twice. He told me he notices how my face changes when I eat something I particularly like, and how I make a little humming noise. I was really embarrassed and it made me a little self conscious, so I told him I'd get back to him about it. I hated seeing his face fall...Then he apologized and said he'd see me later, which made me feel even worse!! I just... the thought of someone paying that much attention to me, to notice what I like and how I act when something makes me happy...I'm not used to it. Of course I found him later and asked him if his offer still stood and I swear his smile made me forget for a moment that there wasn't a sun in the devildom."

⦁ "I failed a test today!!! Lucifer is going to kill me...I told Beel about it and he asked if I would be okay if he helped me study. I told him I would be so grateful! I was so happy I hugged him without thinking and I swear I saw him blushing, I mean I was too but then he told me I could always come to him if I ever needed anything. I swear my heart jumped in my throat. He's always looking out for me, I know he's nice to everyone but....he always makes me feel like I'm special to him. I'm probably looking into it way too much but I might have a small crush on him. Not that he feels the same way, and I'm okay with that, but it's nice to know I have someone I can always count on."

⦁ "I want a black hole to open and swallow me!!! I'm going to hide in my room until I go back home I'm so embarrassed!! I was eating lunch with Beel and I was eating a  jelly pastry and he noticed I had some on the corner of my mouth so he asked me to hold still for a second, and wiped it off with his thumb then licked it! I just...couldn't stop staring at him and his mouth....He thought I wanted some of the food he was eating so he offered to let me have some, then held it out for me to take a bite. Then!! Asmo walked by and said how we were so cute together, feeding each other and acting like a cute couple! Beel was confused and told him we weren't dating, and Asmo looked surprised and told him that I had a crush so he thought I had asked him out. I haven't been answering my phone and I've been hiding out at Purgatory Hall for a few hours now. I don't think I can face Beel after this...."

His Reaction ⦁ Beel had seen Hell’s Kitchen had a dish that MC really enjoyed back in stock for a limited time, so he wanted to surprise MC. He thought he'd made them uncomfortable, in a way he kind of did but for a different reason. Maybe it was because food was his thing so he noticed how others reacted when they ate foods they did or didn't like. So he was really surprised when they found him later and apologized and asked him if he still wanted to go. At the time it made him really happy, even more so now. He felt his cheeks flush at the last sentence, did MC really feel that way?

⦁ He had seen how distraught MC was that day and when they told him what had happened, he offered to help. He usually got good grades and didn't think anything of it, but when they threw their arms around him out of the blue, and how happy they were, he got a little embarrassed. They just looked so cute and he found himself wanting to see them more so he told them they could come to him for anything. In a way they were really special to him, and he too liked them in more that just a friendly way. He felt really happy though, that they trusted him so much.

⦁ Things had gone back to normal since that day, mostly anyway. By the time dinner came around and MC still wasn't home, he went out and looked for them. Luckily when he texted Simeon and Luke, Simeon replied that they were at Purgatory Hall baking with Luke. He still wasn't sure how he felt at the time, since learning that MC also had feelings for him, but he didn't want to make things awkward so he asked if Belphie could go for him and bring them home. He replayed the events of the day over in his head, but this time from MC's point of view and how he would have felt had they acted as he had... He didn't want to make things awkward again since things had mostly gone back to normal but he also didn't just want to ignore the fact that they both had mutual feelings for each other.

Belphie ⦁ MC texts him asking if he could bring their notebooks they forgot ⦁ They were supposed to have a study session in the planetarium but MC had forgotten their things in the attic ⦁ He opens one of the notebooks to quickly scan over the notes they were supposed to study ⦁ These are not school related ⦁ This is their diary, and what’s more, there's a lot about him in it ⦁ His eyebrows furrowed and he settled in to read what MC had to say about him.

Diary Content ⦁ " Beel asked me today if I was mad at Belphie, if we had a fight. I was confused and told him no and asked why. He explained that he noticed when I would see Belphie, I'd usually try and leave the room, or I'd avoid trying to look at him again. I hadn't realized I'd been so obvious about it, but I couldn't explain the reason why to him. He told me Belphie was starting to get depressed, and mentioned that I might have had a change of heart due to the incident. I told him that wasn't the case at all! This is a mess....I'll either have to get over myself or tell Belphie the truth...It's not fair to him I'm acting like this."

⦁ "Belphie's noticed I haven't been coming over for naps as often, I always tell him I've got stuff going on. I used to be fine with cuddling for naps, was totally okay with waking up and having his arm slung over me. I don't know when it changed but I started feeling shy, I was less comfortable with him touching me. Not in a bad way! Just....I got hyper aware anytime he touched me, my heart would start pounding. And in the cases that I couldn't come up with a good reason to say no to a nap, I kept as much distance as I could. Saying I felt too hot to be all wrapped up has been a good excuse so far, and it's not a lie."

⦁ " Ugh! Everytime I try to talk to Belphie about why I've been acting so weird, one of his brothers comes around! Or Simeon...or Solomon...or Luke...It's like now that I'm trying to confess, everyone can sense something is about to go down! I just...want to tell him that I like him as more than a friend and if he can just bear with me so I can get over it, I mean he obviously doesn't feel the same and I don't want to make things more awkward and lose my best friend. Part of me wants Belphie to like me back, as more than a friend, but the other part knows that'll never happen and I need to just get over it."

His Reaction ⦁ At one point he barely spoke to MC aside from meals and in passing, they either didn't reply to his texts, or they took forever. He thought maybe they had finally come to their senses and realized that they actually hated him, and for good reason. Even though he knew they had every right, it still made him feel depressed and lonely, angry even sometimes; and one day he'd vented to Beel. While it irritated him that his twin had told MC, he was relieved to read that MC's behavior wasn't in relation to the incident. But now he was curious about what it WAS about.

⦁ He had noticed MC had been avoiding him in a sense, and at the time he wasn't sure what he'd done. But in the times that they had stayed over for a nap, they would practically be hanging off the edge of the bed, or as far from him as they could get. They told him they were hot, which given the red face and sweating, he believed. He had actually planned to get a fan and a mini air conditioner so they would be more comfortable, he still planned to, but now he had a different reason in mind.

⦁ Belphie remembered the various times MC would ask to talk with him, only to change their mind whenever someone else was around. He was actually going to ask them to meet him at the planetarium tonight and demand to know what was going on. But his brain stopped working when he read MC liked him. Like liked him. He laughed because he was doing the same thing, but he was much better at hiding his feelings. He'd had centuries to master it after all. He was tempted to let MC go through all the embarrassment of a confession after what they'd put him through lately, but right now all he wanted to do was find them and wrap his arms around them and tell them how dumb they were for crushing on a demon. A demon who was just as dumb for having a crush on a human.

[bellasweetwriting]

College Lecture

Spencer Reid x f.reader

(gif doesn’t belong to me)

masterlist

plot: Spencer reveals his crush for you drunk

warnings: drinking, most fluff

important: mostly told by spencer’s pov

word count: idk

—• • •—

Dr. Reid was grabbing his bag as he stood up from his desk. He had finished quickly his paperwork from his last case and he was looking forward to leave quickly the office, which made his coworkers curious as to why he was in such a hurry.

"Pretty boy!" Exclaimed Derek Morgan as he sat down on top of Spencer’s desk, looking at the doctor. "Where are you going so fast? Is there a discount on dictionaries?"

"Ha, I got that joke," said Spencer not even in a sarcastic tone, he had his mind in another world to even come up with a good comeback for Morgan. "I... Uhm... there’s a... there’s a thing that I need to go to."

"What thing?" Asked Morgan again, catching the other BAU members’ attention by his curiosity.

"Uhm... a college... a college lecture."

"A college lecture," repeated Derek in a slow tone, making JJ chuckle. "And what is this college lecture about?"

"Feminism in 19th Century Literature." That surprised everyone agent in the office at the moment. "And I’m late so..."

Emily stopped Reid placing a hand on his chest, making it impossible for him to sprint out of the place.

"I’ll go with you," let him know Emily with a big smile.

"Me too," announced Garcia and Morgan weren’t slow and joined in too.

Spencer was getting more and more nervous, and his partners could easily tell. That’s why they wanted to go. He was hiding something about this lecture that he didn’t want anyone to know, and they were so curious to know what.

And as soon as they arrived at the auditorium, he could have an idea of what was getting all of Dr. Spencer Reid’s attention.

Because as soon as they arrived, his eyes couldn’t help but stare at you.

How you moved around through the little stage pointing out facts about the Brönte sisters with that big smile of yours. How your bright hair was being waved by the wind as you turn around. How your eyes shine with the light of the projector, revealing that look that made him feels things, strange things, good things.

He first came across you a few weeks ago when they had a case in Chicago. You were doing a lecture there and he was supposed to go ask a professor about something related to the murder, but your voice attracted him to you.

He sat there for hours just listening to your voice. For the first time in his young life, he was interested in the speaker rather than the subject of the speaking. He couldn’t focus on Jane Austen when you were the one talking about her.

"Thank you," you finished, receiving applause for the future English Majors and Spencer, who forgot that his coworkers were next to him and he just cheered you up.

"Ok, Doc," said Garcia, "that was interesting. Didn’t know you care so much about Pride and Prejudice."

"Huh? Oh yeah, it’s one... it’s one of my favorite... books," he continued to lie, and he was terrible doing it. "Ok, we can go now."

"Doctor Reid?" You called him as soon as he stood up from the chair. He stopped moving and stood there, nervously, as he closed his eyes. "Is that you?"

"I think they saw you, Reid," mumbled Hotch, making the team chuckle.

Spencer slowly turned around, smiling at you, not helping to blush a little.

You felt curious. He assisted in your last three lectures and you weren’t changing the material that much. You knew him since he introduced himself the first time you guys met, as he stumbled late to one of your speeches.

You talked to him for a few seconds after it ended. You were trying to initiate conversation while he was being evasive, not wanting to talk at all. He just told you his name and some random facts about contemporary literature and then left in a hurry. You were surprised and also confused to see him again, in a different state.

"Professor Y/L/N," he said. "So good to see you again."

The whole team followed Spencer as he walked downstairs towards the stage, where you stepped closer to where they were, with a confused yet sincere smile as the came closer.

"Good to see you, Doctor. Didn’t know that an FBI member would be so interested in Literature Feminism," you said with a small chuckle at the end. "These are your friends, I assume."

Spencer had completely forgotten about the presence of the team, who were collectively thinking that spending an hour of their time listening to you became worth it the minute they saw Spencer’s eyes as they stared at you.

"Yes... Professor, these are Morgan, Emily, JJ, Hotch, and Penelope... guys, this is Professor Y/N Y/L/N. She’s a Yale alumna in Literature, a writer, and gives lectures in colleges around the country."

He was talking so fast he didn’t realize he gave up most of your curriculum, but you didn’t mind. Most people would find it creepy, but you find it just curious, you found everything about Spencer Reid curious. His actions, how he repeated words since for him it was difficult to put into sentences every thought that was constantly in his mind. He worked fast, he was constantly thinking, analyzing.

"Thanks for the info, Spencer. We catch bad guys," said Penelope and you chuckled, making Spencer smile.

You’ve only spoked a few times with him after the lectures he assisted and every time he surprised you more and more with his intellectuality and his capability to memorize everything.

"How long are you staying in Virginia, Professor?" Question Agent Morgan and Spencer felt curious too.

"Until the day after tomorrow. I’m giving a lecture about Hemingway tomorrow afternoon, why?"

"Oh, well, because Spencer thought that it would be a brilliant idea to invite you to the bar for some drinks." Spencer opened his eyes abruptly.

"I did what—" Morgan stepped on his foot. "Ouch! Yes! I did! Yes!" Spencer exclaimed in pain, making you smile confused. “Yes, Uhm... sure, you should... you should come with us for... drinks, yep."

You smiled. "I’d love too,” you whispered. "I’ll go grab my purse and I’ll be right back." You left after giving Spencer a soft look, walking quickly to get your bag.

As soon as you left, Spencer immediately turned around to face Morgan who was just laughing, such as the rest of the team.

"Why would you do that!?" Exclaimed the doctor. "I was going to ask her out."

"When?" Questioned Derek with a dumb smile, still making fun of Spencer’s actions around you and how nervous he was.

"Eventually," he replied, not proud of his response. "Did I act too bizarre?"

"Other than the fact that you told us by memory her entire biography, I would say pretty normal," mocked JJ making him sigh. "It’s okay, Spence. I promise you that she didn't even notice.”

"Are you sure, JJ?" Questioned the Doctor as he tried to hide his nervousness. The idea of going out with you, of dating you, not only terrified him but also made him doubt his own abilities. Was he good enough for you? Was he smart enough for you?

"No, I'm lying. She definitely noticed, " she mocked before pressing her lips together, regretting it. "I'm sorry, I should have said that."

"No, no, don't worry, I'm just... Not for jokes right now JJ, " he whispered. "There she comes, " he said to himself as you came back with your purse and a shy smile in your face, which was directed to him. "Hi! Again... Hi again, " he greeted, awkwardly, making you giggle.

"Hi again, Spencer. Shall we?"

— • • • —

You were sitting on the counter by yourself waiting for the drinks, while the rest of the group was at the table. All the BAU members were insisting on Reid to stand up and walk towards you, but he was too nervous to do so. He decided to just look at you as he played with his glass with ice claiming to be refilled with an alcoholic drink. He was just glancing at you, admiring your charm.

He had a huge crush on you and it was hard for him to confess it. His friends were teasing him about it and he was annoyed by that, but deep down he recognized that it was true. That he liked you. He wanted you.

"Ok!" You yelled excitedly as you arrived at the table with the drinks that everyone ordered. "Hotch, your whiskey on the rocks, boring." Everyone laughed. "And for the rest, I got us... tequila!" You chuckle while everyone cheered, minus Spencer, who was too focused on you to even be excited about the break from work and the hanging out with his friends. "Here you go, Doc."

"Oh, I don't want, " he replied as you sat next to him, making him tremble by the quick touch of your leg against the fabric of his pants.

"What!? Why not!?" You exclaimed as you put a strand of your hair behind your ear and drank the first shot. "Come on!"

"Yeah, Pretty Boy, " intervened Derek after drinking, making Spencer stare at him. "Probably, it'll help you loosen up a bit, don't you think?"

You looked at him with a sincere smile, and he couldn't resist. He couldn't resist you. The way you made him feel was... different, unusual for a guy like him. He has never felt it before.

And after a few drink, he finally could loosen go as Morgan said, and started telling you exactly how he felt.

"Did you know..." he began, grabbing your attention, "I assisted way more of your lectures than you think I did? I only said hi in like three of the ten I assisted. I didn't know there was so much to talk about Emily Dickinson."

"I believe that's enough shots for the Doctor, " pointed Garcia making everyone giggle, but Spencer didn't even notice, he was busy with admiring you.

"Did you know there weren't blue M&Ms till the 90s? What kind of M&Ms did 80s people eat? The yellow ones? Losers." You laughed. He was so drunk and you found it hilarious. "I like your laugh."

"Well thank you, " you replied. "And I will agree with Garcia: you’ve had enough alcohol for today."

"You don't have to take care of me!" He exclaimed. "Actually, my brain works even faster when I'm under the influence of alcohol and that's why... I can't even put into words all of my thoughts! If you looked into my brain right now, you’d see a complete mess! There should be a machine that lets you see into someone else’s brain! Did I just invent a Nobel Prize Award invention?"

"Ok, drunk Reid is killing my mood, " mentioned Emily. "I think it's time to go home, we have work early in the morning."

You nodded, drinking the last sip from your glass and standing up. Everyone stood up too, chuckling by the state of the other, smiling for the great time they’ve just spent with each other.

Reid was the last to stand up. He struggled to maintain balance while Hotch helped him to get up. He looked at you with a little smile while you grabbed your purse and crossed it over your chest.

"You know... Y/N." You raised your eyebrows when he mentioned your name. "We should date."

You hadn't even reacted when Morgan and Emily intervened quickly, dragging Spencer away from you.

"That's enough, Reid, " said Morgan. "Nice meeting you, Y/N. Let's go, Doc."

"Call me!" He yelled. "I like you!" And that's the last thing you heard from him before Morgan finally got him out of the bar. You simply laughed.

— • • • —

Spencer Reid arrived at his office with the worst headache in the world. He quickly prepared a strong coffee and drank it all as he walked towards his desk, falling to the chair and closing his eyes.

"How's your head, Spence?" Asked JJ and he just groaned. "That bad, huh?"

"I just want to die, " he said with a deep voice.

"Reid..." Hotch called him as he walked by. "The Professor is here."

That words made Spencer open his eyes widely, looking towards the entrance where you were standing, glancing towards him with a tiny smile.

As soon as you saw his reaction, you doubted coming there. What if he didn't want to see you? You went there by an impulse. What he said the previous night didn't let you sleep and you wanted to clear everything out. His voice wouldn't stop repeating in your mind, repeating those words every five seconds. You needed to see him.

"Oh, God..." Spencer mumbled to himself as he stood up. "What's she doing here? What did I say yesterday?"

"You may have confessed your crush on her, " answered JJ, making Spencer panic. "Go!"

He nodded before walking slowly towards you, with a nervous smile on his face as he came closer. You noticed how strange he was acting and you tried smiling at him to calm him a little, but that just seemed to make him even more nervous.

"Professor Y/L/N, " he greeted you. "How can I help you?"

"I just needed to clear some things out and—"

"I'm sorry if yesterday I said some things that made you uncomfortable. I don't even remember what I said and I just hope that we can move past that."

"Oh... oh, yeah... Uhm... ok, " you stuttered. "I just thought—"

"What?" He asked curiously.

You breathed in.

"Why did you attend all of my lectures, Spencer?"

That question took him by surprise.

"I don't know, " he admitted. "I just... liked how you talked so excited about literature. Your voice tends to increase a tone when you arrive at the Jane Austen material and it's clear she's your favorite author. Your shoulders relax when you notice someone in the audience taking notes because now you know they are paying attention and are interested in the subject such as you. Your voice gets slower as you reach the end of your speech because you don't want it to end, you love it, you love teaching other people and showing your passion to everyone. You love every second of it."

You nodded.

"Why?" He questioned.

"Just wanted to make sure you weren't a literature maniac and the only thing you cared about was what I was talking about."

"No, I'm not as passionate about literature as you are." You gave him a little smile. "Would you like to go out sometime?"

"Yeah... I'd love to go out with you, Spencer."

"Great..."

"Great."

[florrickandassociates]

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.  

[anxiouslyfred]

Stubborn Words

Summary: Remus can’t get the words to work for this years letter to his soulmate so he decides to colour instead. He is not expecting to see those pictures framed on the wall of his friend’s home the next time he visits.

/\/\

The soulmate letters were a waste of time, if you asked Remus at least. You couldn't share any personal information or even anything that could remotely help your soulmate to find you and generally that meant people could only write vague descriptions of what's happening in their lives or recount specific situations with everything from names to place descriptions edited into nothing. Completely pointless for getting to know anyone, let alone somebody as important as your soulmate was meant to be.

Instead Remus decided to throw the entire 'getting to know you' idea out of the window and just write a story instead. As long as everything was fictional then it would get sent and he had a long list of stories people around him refused to listen to. Each year he could perfect at least one, but more often a few, stories to send off for his soulmate to read.

They even went along with it, usually replying with stories of how his letter had helped over the year, and occasions where they'd used something from Remus's stories to end an uncomfortable conversation. It was a fun exchange to get that kind of feedback in return and he loved it.

Words weren't working for Remus this year though and he hated it.

They felt clunky or fell flat. The descriptions were forced and nothing seemed to fit with the images in his head. It was a battle to get a sentence written and even then Remus felt like he had lost it.

So he turned to paints, to colour, and just let his hands rush over the pages, trying to capture the images in his thought in any form, even one he wouldn't usually turn to.

The first page that Remus covered in colour showed a vague figure in a fighting stance. It was blurry, made mostly of shadows and coloured shapes but clearly there, as were fallen forms of other people and he just had to carry on colouring, and find out what other forms might appear on a new page.

The style carried on with no outlines and it surprised Remus as much as it thrilled him to see an actual story growing on the pages.

He didn't need words this year to share a story with his soulmate. 

/Let's visit a Friend's house\

Virgil had been friends with Remus for years, and he could only describe that friendship as an adventure, but they'd never spoken about their soulmates at all. It had put Virgil on edge when Roman had spent a month quizzing everyone he met on insignificant details his soulmate had mentioned, and that had been the time when he'd met Remus. The other had picked up on it and decided they shouldn't talk soulmates unless Virgil wanted to bring it up, which would never happen.

Now however he was beginning to think perhaps talking about their soulmates, or at least the letters they sent would have been a good idea.

At the very least it might explain why his friend has been frozen in the doorway of his home for 5 minutes, just staring at the picture he'd framed.

His soulmate had sent something of a comic strip this year and instead of carrying it with him to read in times when the pressure got too much, Virgil had decided to frame the pages and hang them around the entrance and hallway of his home. Now he could move to work out excess energy and lose himself in his soulmates story at the same time, with the added benefit that the pictures wouldn't risk being damaged from getting carried around.

Virgil did not anticipate having a friend frozen in his doorway as a problem that might come from hanging pictures up. Actually it had been one action he couldn't think of causing any problems at all so this was very concerning.

“Remus, I really would like to y'know, shut my door sometime today?” He tried asking again. He'd been ignored the first time he spoke, but now had a wild and lost gaze snapping onto his face.

Before he could ask what was wrong, Remus had pulled him into a hug, arms under his so Virgil was hanging in the air. “It's you. It's actually you! I dreamed and wondered so many times, but thought you'd be uncomfortable but it is really really you!” The words were muttered into his hair, almost trilling, like a song and a whisper joined together.

“Yes, it's the wonderful, worthless Virgil. You've known me for years, so is this a Remus method to say we haven't hung out enough or is there something else happening?” Virgil tried to pat his back, hoping to be put down, or at the very least given an explanation over what was happening. Somehow this didn't seem to purely be about the pictures any more and Virgil was not letting his thoughts go in that direction any further.

“No! Well Yes! Definitely! All the Hangouts, hook-ups, catch-ups, movie nights, everything! I need everything, every minute you'll let me be around and I'm gonna be here.” Remus was bouncing them now, as well as twisting his head every which way to try and look at Virgil while still tightly holding him close. “It's YOU! You're my soulmate! My wonderful story reader! Wait, have I been the cause for you hiding in my stories? I'll stop if things are too much for you, you know that right?”

He was suddenly put down, his friend now very concerned and searching his face but Virgil was still a few steps behind in the conversation. His soulmate was Remus? Actually, really Remus, this mad, energetic Remus, 'jumps from subject to subject faster than blinking but somehow knows when to just slow down and let Virgil zone out for a while if he's struggling' Remus?

But the door was still open and Remus was looking increasingly concerned and upset the longer Virgil tried to process that revelation. They didn't need an audience of any passers by for this scene so that became the immediate concern, turning away from his friend to shut and lock the door. Usually Virgil wouldn't lock it when guests were over but he was more focused on having security for the moment.

“You already do that before I even say anything Remus. I know.” Virgil said first, another glance to him showing that Remus had been wriggling uncomfortably in place since asking his last question.

He didn't say anything more though, heading through to his living room since he'd be laying on the floor if he didn't sit down soon. The table was at least clear so he could have a good perch to continue the conversation from.

Remus had followed him through just flopping onto the ground and staring up at him now. “Soulmate?” He asked.

“Yeah, I erm, was that why you were complaining about words being useless last month? Because you were struggling to write a story for me?” The memory had jumped into Virgil's mind from the last time they met. He'd listened to Remus brainstorming ideas a lot of their friendship, but knew, now completely, that from the things Remus would chat about with him to the stories that actually got written everything could change.

“Stupid things didn't co-operate at all. Your letters always talk about how my stories help so I just wanted to write something, give a story somehow. I loved it when the colours decided to tell the story the words ran away from.” He grumbled, pulling a face again at the issues he'd had trying to write.

Virgil snickered. “Look at it this way, you'd never have realised we're soulmates without having the change in what you sent.” It still felt unreal, but the more Remus mentioned the things he'd written in reply, the more he could believe they really are soulmates.

“I'm not going to thank my words for going on strike if that's what you're aiming for.” Remus stuck his tongue out, but grinned a second later. “You know, I could just move in and we can start figuring out who we are as soulmates with that.”

If they hadn't been friends for years, it wouldn't even be a consideration. If Remus hadn't shown time and time again an astute understanding of what helped when Virgil got stressed, anxious or simply upset, it still wouldn't be likely. But they had been and he had proven it, and Virgil found himself nodding. “Just separate rooms. You can have my spare room and if we want to change that later we can talk about it then.”

[captainneverever]

Snow Day

written for @lightsonparkave's Prompt Challenge Round 6 -- Love

The Avengers think that Steve and Tony got engaged at the annual holiday party. It’s news to Steve and Tony. (light 616, 1900 words)

Tony rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, vaguely aware of the Avengers alarm going off. Usually he’d be off like a shot heading for the armor, Steve’s voice in his ear relaying mission information. Instead, he saw Steve standing shirtless in his workout pants, coffee mug in one hand, watching the snow dance outside the Tower windows.

“Um, Steve, there’s a mission --”

Steve sipped his coffee and watched the snow. “We’ve been benched.”

Tony narrowed his eyes. “Isn’t that your call?”

“Not today. Carol called it.”

Tony couldn’t recall a single thing that occurred during the annual Avengers holiday party that would have resulted in them being benched. Food was excellent. He drank seltzer and lemon all night and Steve his craft beers. The Cards Against Humanity game hadn’t resulted in blood-letting. No one had stupidly challenged Thor or Carol to arm-wrestling. No one had complained about the silly, the serious or the thoughtless presents. 

He glanced over at the small black box with the arty cufflinks Steve had given for him on the nightstand. Steve had commissioned the artist sometime last year to craft “space geode” cufflinks. The gift stemmed from a long-standing private joke that would be impossible to explain to anyone else. He grinned, thinking of how Steve said “space geode.” 

It all went off the rails when Steve had given him the box in the kitchen when it was just them alone instead of during the group present opening. Jan had walked in on Tony enthusiastically kissing Steve and then jumped right out with profuse apologies.

Now that he wasn’t on call, Tony snuggled deeper into the sheets and blankets and blatantly ogled the lovely ass sight in front of him.

He asked, “Why? As far as I can tell, you and I still have all our limbs attached, no concussions, no body swapping …. Unless there’s a surprise you’re about to spring on me. Like a visit from our clones or something.”

“Team thinks we got engaged last night so we’ve got the day off.”

Tony could hear the touch of amusement in Steve’s voice and wondered if Steve had put up much of a fight about being benched. Probably he did; he didn’t take benching well, even for a good cause.

Then it sank in what Steve had said. “What?! Wait -- did Jan think --”

“It wasn’t just Jan. Clint overheard us talking about big news before the party.”

“The new quinjet redesign?”

Steve set down his coffee mug and joined Tony on the bed. He swung his legs up, and rolled onto his stomach, and smiled at Tony. He kissed Tony’s bicep. “Only you and T’Challa would consider that big news.”

“The team will love the more comfortable seats are bigger galley,” Tony grumbled. “So, the whole team thinks that you and I are getting married.”

“Jess asked if we’d set a date yet.”

“July, of course. Best weather in the Hamptons,” Tony replied automatically. “Hard to get hotel rooms, and we’d have to book the venue a couple of years ahead of time. It’d be worth it.”

Steve booped Tony’s nose and chuckled. “That’s the official date -- we’ll have already gotten married in private a few months earlier. City Clerk’s office.”

“That’s just complicated and unnecessary.”

“So are supervillain attacks and alien invasions. Have we gone to a single superhero wedding that didn’t get interrupted?”

Tony had no answer. He couldn’t think of one, and he’d gone to his share of the events. Sue and Reed couldn’t even have a baby shower without a supervillain attack.

Steve concluded, “If we’re already married, then all Zemo or Kang or Ultron would be breaking up would be a party.”

“Or the Controller or whoever is in charge of AIM these days or -- let’s be real, there’s at least fifty guys and gals that would go a long long way to bust up our big day.” Tony drummed his fingers on the bed. “Wait -- why did they jump straight to us getting engaged? Why not moving in together? I could have given you a box with a key to my suitet.”

Steve collapsed on the bed, his body shaking from laughing. Tony swatted at him as Steve shifted away from him and wiped tears from his eyes. 

“What’s so funny, big guy?”

“The team and reserve Avengers thought we’ve been living together for the past year. I was informed of this fact this morning.”

“Oh, wow. How could we have missed that?” 

Steve looked thoughtful. “I do spend most nights here already.” He poked Tony in a ticklish spot. “If I moved in officially, I’ll need some closet space, more than the two drawers I’m using --”

“I’ll build you your own closet. I can draw the plans up right after breakfast. I’m going to design you a closet that’s going to be on the cover of Architectural Digest.”

Steve wriggled back under the covers and the sheets, and propped his arm up on the pillows. “Are you asking me to move in?”

“Do you want to move in?” Tony replied. His breath hitched and pulse beat faster as that old fear that Steve would bail on him reared its ugly head. A lifetime full of disappointments and Steve’s workaholic tendencies had taught him to be wary.

But he’d give his eyeteeth to have more of Steve.

Steve fiddled with the blanket and looked at a spot at the end of the large bed. “I always imagined you’d ask in a more romantic way. Involving a dinner.”

Tony’s heart flipped. “You’re one of the most unromantic people I have ever met. We can order takeout and eat while we make space for you and your toothbrush in the bathroom.”

Steve slid an arm around Tony’s waist to draw him close. “Home is where I hang my shield. A nail in the wall, a nightstand, and one side of the closet, and we’re all set.”

“Ha,” Tony snorted. “Do you think we could get all that done before the team returns?”

He grinned as he watched Steve analyze and calculate the team’s chances. He adored Steve’s brilliant tactical mind, the little half-smile he always had on his face as he considered and weighed strategies. Just part of Steve’s charms. 

“The main factor is whether or not the Wrecking Crew are having a magically juiced-up week. Weather forecast has more snow. Team is worse for wear because of the party. Odds are that they’ll be out for a couple of hours minimum.  

“Well, now that we know it’s the Wrecking Crew --”

“I didn’t want to leave the Tower to fight the Wrecking Crew,” Steve confessed.

“Instead you settled for moving in with me? Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.” 

Stevet tugged him closer, letting Tony tuck his head into his shoulder. The idea of waking up to this every single morning warmed Tony from head to toe. Something they could build a life around.

“Now that we’re living together, when are you going to make me an honest man?” Steve teased.

“Wow, we haven’t even hung up your medals and had a fight over your hideous chair --”

“Team thinks we’re engaged already. We can’t undermine their trust in us.”

“You just don’t want them to know that you didn’t tell them the truth that you didn’t want to fight the Wrecking Crew in a blizzard.”

Smiling, Steve ran his fingers through Tony’s hair. “They saved me from planning the proposal.”

Tony pulled away to stare at Steve. “Wait. Slow down. You just talked me in letting you move in --”

“A formality -- I have clothes and uniforms here, my pile of books are next to my side of the bed, I was just asking for more closet space.”

“Right. Back to that proposal thing. What?”

Steve sat up a little straighter so Tony could curl into his side. They could see the snow coming down in thick white flakes, the sort of snow that promised many inches, school closures and miserable fighting conditions. The Avengers had been more than generous to let the newly engaged couple sleep in. 

“I bought more than the cufflinks at the jeweler’s. Just waiting for the right occasion. I made reservations at L’Artusi for Valentine’s -- was working on other ideas, like flowers, that sort of thing.”

“Steve,” Tony exhaled with all the love he felt for Steve. A Valentine’s Day restaurant date was a big, fussy ordeal -- with a planned proposal thrown into the mix -- and Unromantic Steve was planning to do it all for him. A big risk, given all the space wars they’d been in recently.

“We’ve talked about it, getting married.” Tony nodded in agreement, and Steve continued. “I picked up the ring and all I could think about was when I could ask you. I almost asked last week at breakfast when you were fixing the coffee machine.”

The thought of wearing Steve’s ring took Tony’s breath away. Steve had always wanted to be married, though Tony had a healthy fear of marriage, considering his parents and the strong likelihood he’d wake up and find that he’d married sentient armor or a Skrull. It could happen -- he’d lay good money that it would. Tony’s luck ran on the rotten side.

But here was Steve, right next to him on a snowy morning in New York, and he was going to Officially Move In today. He’d loved Steve forever, since Steve opened his eyes in that sub a few years ago. He couldn’t possibly name anyone he’d want to marry more than his Avengers co-leader -- they had saved each other’s lives too many times to count, they finished each other’s sentences, he could practically read Steve’s mind by now. 

No wonder the team thought that Steve had proposed last night. They should have been married years ago. They should have gotten married the afternoon Tony found him. It was ridiculous the amount of time they hadn’t been married. 

“Since you’re asking, yeah, I’ll marry you.”

Steve kissed the top of his head. “How about next week?”

“Next week?”

“City Clerk’s Office.”

“I take back what I said about you being unromantic. You’re such a true romantic, through and through.”

“We could get married Tuesday at the City Clerk’s office -- we get a license on Monday and there’s a 24-hour waiting period.”

“Tuesday? Hmmm -- I probably have something scheduled that day.”

“You’re free, I already checked your schedule.”

“You planned this,” Tony accused Steve. 

Steve put his arm around Tony and hugged him. “No, that’s giving me too much credit. I researched possibilities, in case they came up. Be prepared.”

“I couldn’t possibly love you more than I love you now.”

“You will when the Masters of Evil crash that fancy wedding the wedding planner put together and we have to drop everything to arrest them. And we’ll be married during the whole fight.”

“Our secret.”

“Just us.”

The wind picked up outside and the snow fell harder. “I should feel bad about the team out there in the snow,” Tony admitted.

“It’s their gift to us,” Steve replied. “An early wedding present --”

“For the men who have everything,” Tony finished. 

“Yeah.”

Tony tapped the bed thoughtfully. “I have some favors to cash in for the honeymoon, in that case.”

“I’d like to go to Europe,” Steve offered. “It’d be nice to visit on our own, not as Avengers.”

“I have ideas already -- you won’t regret it. We’re still going to L’Artusi for Valentine’s, right?”

“You bet.”

[machine-gun-casie]

Why Can’t They Get That?

anon: hey can I request something where ur a famous actress and you get hate for dating him so he comforts you and then you go out and have fun. (sorry if it's too long) thanks and I love ur writing it's great dude i busted that out way faster than i thought i would lol hope u like it also quickness leads to typos if u see any tell me about them

wc: 900

You were swiping through Instagram stories, checking your socials while you were still in the comfort of the warm hotel bed. Colson had gotten up and went to the bathroom a few minutes ago, so you were all alone. You were staying in New York for a few days before the release of your movie and you brought Colson along. For your red carpet debut as a couple. You had been together for a while, but you wanted the whole red carpet thing and Colson didn’t mind. It was your movie after all.

All the stories on Instagram were the same. Avocado toast. Puppy. Avocado toast. Shaky concert video. Avocado toast. And the occasional promo for your upcoming movie posted by cast mates and friends. Your co-star and close friend, Elle Fanning, had posted one too, placing a crown emoji over your head.

There you were, right in the middle, name in big bold letters above your head. It was your biggest role yet, and seeing the promo made you feel like you were at an all time high.

But it immediately came crashing down. You had followed a fan page of yours a few months ago. You noticed how excited they got, putting it in their bio and all that. So you made sure to check their story every day and sometimes reply.

You were definitely regretting that decision. The story right after the promo from Elle was from this fan account. They had reposted a video of you and Colson on set that Elle put out yesterday in celebration of the release coming up. You were snuggled up on a couch somewhere, giggling and making out.

Your co-star’s caption was poking fun at your relationship, but it was a joke. She even checked with you and Colson before posting it. 

‘Why they gotta be so gross on set tho?’

Everyone knew she was kidding. But this account either didn’t know or did and didn’t care.

‘Elle’s right. They already know everyone hates them together, they don’t have to rub it in our faces. y/n if ur reading this LEAVE HIM YOU’RE TOO GOOD FOR HIM!!!’

You looked at those words for who knows how long. Your relationship with Colson was under so much fire and you had no idea why. He had a rough past, but so do so many other people. He apologized and everyone moved on. Why didn’t they get that you love him and that’s what matters?

“y/n? Are you alright, Princess?” Colson's question broke your train of thought. He had come out of the bathroom and you didn’t even notice. He was shaking out his wet hair with nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist.

“Hm? Oh, yeah I’m fine.” You mumbled, eyes going back to your phone and rereading the words.

“Are you? Cuz’ I’ve been saying your name for an hour and you haven't responded.” Colson said, grabbing your phone out of your hand quickly before he finished his sentence.

“Hey! I was looking at that.” You grumbled, folding your arms and pouting.

“I noticed.” Colson replied, snark through the roof. “Now, what the fuck is this…” His voice trailed off as he read the words on your screen.

You huffed. “You weren’t supposed to see that.”

“So this is what’s got you all pouty.” Colson pouted mockingly at you. “Why is the hate getting to my baby, she knows better than to give in to what the people say.”

Colson climbed back into bed with you and pulled you on top of him. “Because they’re wrong.” You said, placing your cheek on his chest and putting your arms around him.

“On the contrary, I think they’re right. You’re definitely too good for me.” Colson smiled cheesily at you.

“Shut up, you know what I mean.” You rolled your eyes at him. “Why can’t they get that I’m with you and that’s that?”

“Baby, I know people hate me just by my appearance.” Colson said, tone serious but words sarcastic.

“Don’t quote your music at me.” 

“But it’s true. They look at you and see a badass talented amazing woman, and they see me and they’re like ‘who does this fucker think he is getting with that perfect piece of fine everything?’” Colson said, hoping to get a smile on your face. It worked.

“Alright, but still.” You sat up, straddling him now. “I love you and you’re perfect. Why can’t they get that? Why can’t they just accept it and move on?”

“Because they’re all jealous!” Colson growled playfully, flipping you over and making you squeal, tickling your sides viciously. “They’re jealous that I have you all to myself.” He trailed kisses up your neck and nibbled at your ear lobe when he reached it.

“Alright alright, they’re jealous!” You panted. “Please stop, I’m gonna pee!”

Colson ceased his attack and flopped down next to you. “You wanna go out there and make a show? Show everyone how many fucks we give.”

“Show everyone how?”

“It’s New York, baby. Paps are everywhere. And we’ll go to all the popular places, too. We’ll do all the cheesy shit. And full make out sessions everywhere.”

“Alright, calm down babe. We don’t wanna get arrested for public indecency.” You chuckled, running your fingers through his hair.

“Or do we? Makes an even better point, in my opinion. Like Bonnie and Clyde.” Colson winked at you, running his tongue along his teeth. “Willing to get locked up for love.”

[jawritter]

Promised

**Series Warnings!! ** ABO dynamics! Smut, unprotected smut, knotting, claiming, mating, heat, rut, language, overly protective Jensen, age gap! 19-year-old reader, 41-year-old Jensen, virgin reader, loss of virginity, sort of an arranged marriage, hint at possible mob type settings.

Story Description:

In a world where your presentation can be a blessing or a curse, a newly presented Omega will come face to face with the harsh reality of Alphas, Omegas, and pack alliances that are expected to be upheld with the union of your two families…

A/N: Pt.5!!! Please don’t copy my stuff! Feedback is welcomed! If you want to be added to the series tag list, or just my tag list in general let me know! Cross-posted on Wattpad! Hope you enjoy it!! This is my first ABO series so be nice lmao!

Pairing: Jensen x Reader

Word Count: 2362

You had been at the hotel with your Alpha for two days, well awake anyway, really you had been there around four. 

In those two days, Jensen had been taking care of you while you recovered from what he said was the worst fever he ever has seen an Omega undergo during her heat. 

He still hadn’t tried to have sex with you again, and no matter how much you try and convince yourself that he’s just trying to make sure you’re well, and fully recovered it’s something that’s constantly gnawing at you in the back of your mind.

It’s not like he’d been avoiding you. Every night when you went to bed he’d wrap his strong arms around you, and pull you as tight to his chest as humanly possible. Tangling your legs together and holding onto you like if he let go even a little you would disappear. 

He spent the last to days pretty much attached to your hip while you were awake. Pulling you into his lap while on the couch watching movies, making sure you ate, making sure you were comfortable. 

That did make you believe the cares.

Waking up this his arms was quickly becoming your favorite thing. That was for sure. 

Jensen was currently sitting with his laptop on his lap, and alternating between texting, and typing away on his keyboard in front of him. He hadn’t told you what he was doing, and honestly, you didn’t know whether it was okay to ask it. 

You found yourself constantly craving his touch, but you didn’t know if it was okay that you approach him; or were you supposed to wait for him to come to you?

You thought your parents taught you everything you needed to know about Alphas, Omegas, and their relationships together, but you found out quickly that you knew nothing. So you kept your distance, watching him type away out of the corner of your eye. 

After what felt like an eternity he looked up from his work and smirked at you over the laptop screen.

“I can literally feel you staring you know?” he says, his voice light and teasing. 

You knew he wasn’t angry, but for some reason, the very sound of his voice was enough to make you shake in skin... In a good way…

“Sorry,” you mumble, picking up your coffee cup, and trying to concentrate on the show playing in front of you on the TV.

“Come here,” he said. 

It wasn’t a request, you knew that. So you put down your cup on the table next to you and walked over to your Alpha, who had closed his laptop and set it on the couch next to him. 

When you got close to him, he reached out and pulled you into his lap. You immediately laid your head on his shoulder, letting his scent and his touch calm you. This was what you were craving. His touch. Him scent... Him…

“Seems like your feeling better today than you were yesterday,” he said, playing with your hair, while you absentmindedly played with the button that was open a little lower on his shirt than was probably necessary; but you didn’t complain. I mean the man was gorgeous.

“Yeah, I feel more like myself today,” you mumbled, not sure what answer he really wanted out of you. You wanted more than anything to please and not anger him. You didn’t know this man hardly at all though, and you didn’t want to ruin your relationship with him before you even got started. 

Being claimed in the states meant that you were not only bound to the person for eternity, or until the bond was broken and rejected, but that you were also legally married as well.

“I was sending off our paperwork to the clerk of courts office, you should get your new Social Security Card, and ID in the mail in a few weeks, along with our marriage license ...” he said, letting the sentence trail off at the end like was lost in his own thoughts. 

You didn’t even think about that. You felt like such a child around him most of the time.

Which you guess that in a way you were. You were homeschooled, you were never allowed to leave the house, your only friends were family, you had never realized just how sheltered you were until you were tied to someone who you had never known, and expected to function.

Jensen had traveled all over the globe with his job. He’d seen and meet people of every variety and flavor. You had trouble making an order on the phone for food, and you weren’t even face to face with people. 

Jensen swore that he’d teach you, that it was okay, not to worry about it. That it was your family's fault. 

In a way, you had started to wonder if all those years, your whole life really, if you had been abused? 

As if on cue Jensen cleared his throat bring you back to the present, his fingers dancing lightly over the sink of your back where he’d moved his hand under your shirt. 

“Since your feeling better I think it might be best to go home today. We can use my friend’s private jet and be back in Austin within the hour. I had a moving company come in and collect your clothes and belongings that your parents had packed up for you. So you don’t have to go back there. Honestly, sweetheart, I don’t think you should go back there ...” 

Your blood ran cold. This was one thing you had feared about being tied to an Alpha, the control. You stiffened before you could stop yourself. The thought of not being around your family had your heart-shattering. Yes, they were more than likely abusive and the cause of your anxiety, and inability to function in a and around normal circumstances, but they were all you had ever known.

Putting a finger under your chin Jensen lifted your face slightly to look at him. His green eyes searching yours. His face calm and unraveling. 

“You didn’t like that I can tell,” he said, his voice soft, but you could hear a little concern.

The statement confused you though.

“What… How… How did you know I didn’t like it?” you asked. 

When he started to chuckle it surprised you. If you would have questioned an Alpha in your family, you probably would have found your ass on the ground.  He thought it was funny?

“Y/N, we’re bonded. I can literally feel the anxiety rolling off of you right now, and the fact that you're afraid of me. I can tell you what your feeling probably better than you can.”

You sat there on his lap staring at him there like a deer caught in the headlights, which made him laugh harder. His laugh was the most beautiful thing you had ever heard, and you realized you had never heard it until this point. 

Once he got his features under control, licking those perfect lips that you wanted more than anything to kiss right now, but you shoved that thought down for later. One feat at a time.

“Y/N, you’re allowed to have feelings and opinions. I’m not going to beat the shit out of you just because you disagree with me. I’m not going to snap. I can control my temper. I don’t know what you’ve been subjected to in your life, but I can guess by the way you act around me like you’re constantly walking on glass that it wasn’t a good upbringing, at least not a healthy one..” Taking a deep breath he brushed a stray piece of hair behind ear that had fallen in front of your face.

“I tell you what, sweetheart, let's go home and get you settled. Then let's just take some time learning each other a little. We will figure out what to do about your family later.” 

It made you feel a lot better that he did take your feelings into consideration. It was more than you would have thought possible alone. 

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

Three hours later, faster than you would have honestly thought possible, but again here you are; you were walking through Austin-Bergstrom International Airport. 

Jensen’s arm was firmly wrapped around your waist as you made your way through the airport with your bags thrown over his shoulder. Both of you only basically had a duffle bag a piece in the hotel room. 

Jensen had said your stuff was already delivered to your new home. Jensen’s eyes scanned the airport cautiously, scanning faces of passers-by as they went. A few people did seem to recognize Jensen. You could tell by the gaggle of girls that seemed to be drooling over him in the corner by the little sitting area when you passed, but the look on Jensen’s face screamed back off, and no one made a move to approach the two of you.

Once you were both safely in your uber Jensen gave the driver the address. Leaning over and taking his jacket off and placing it over your shoulders before pulling you close as possible in the back of the SUV.

“You okay so far?” he mumbled low enough that the driver couldn’t really hear the conversation going on between the two of you. 

You nodded your head, pulling his jacket around you tighter, letting his lingering scent wash over you, calming you. 

“I didn’t see any cameras, but I’m sure someone caught pictures of us. At least they didn’t approach. I really am not ready to share you just yet Omega.” he said, his voice dropping a whole octave, and his teeth grazing over the shell of your ear; causing a shiver to rip through your whole being. 

That was the first time he had touched you like that since the night that he claimed you.

Finally, the car pulled up outside of the house. It was surprisingly closer to the road than you would have thought it would be. Not in a gated community. There were neighbors. That was something you hadn’t expected either. Your parent's house was something like a compound of sorts. Way over walled and way overdone. There was barely even a fence blocking the front door? 

Jensen got out of the car, then helped you out, walking to the door with your hand wrapped tightly in his.

The house was impressive from the outside the closer you got to it. Two levels, maybe more. The outside painted a light gray. A wood lacquer type fence around some parts of the house. A well-manicured lawn.

Everything was clean. Everything was… Normal… No grand driveways, nothing like that. It was strange. You felt so out in the open. Jensen unlocked the door, then turned to you without warning sweeping you up bridal style into his arms.

You squealed in surprise, clinging onto his neck. 

Closing the door with his foot he walked you through the house like you weighed nothing at all. Jensen stopped in the hallway outside of a door reaching down he opened the door to a beautiful bedroom. Clean, sleek. Everything looked expensive and modern. 

Walking over to the bed he laid you down gently before jumping on the bed hovering over you playfully. A side of him you hadn’t seen yet. Though you did like it. He seemed really glad to be back into his own space.

Leaning down he licked at your claiming mark lightly, purring over you.

“So what do you think of the house so far? Satisfactory?” 

You laughed a little at him as he nipped at your jawline leaving little open-mouthed kisses down your neck. Scenting you deeply at your claiming mark.

“I don’t know. All I’ve really seen so far is the bedroom,” you try and play back to him. 

He was in such a good mood you didn’t want to break it. You liked him being playful. It’s like he morphed into a different person as soon as the car pulled up at his house. 

“Well, baby that is the most important room in the house,” he smirked at you.

Getting a spurt of confidence you lean and brush your lips over his. Jensen takes over at once like it was the permission he’d been waiting for you to give him for days, he connected his lips to yours. Kissing you deeper than he ever had. Stealing your breath away. Your heart pounding like you had just ran a marathon.

His tongues slipped past your lips and teeth. Gliding over your tongue with ease, pulling a little moan from your lips past your own defenses. 

Purring against you he pressed his weight on top of you a little more, letting you feel him against you for the first time. His scent was coming off of him in waves. His hand trailing up the inside of your thigh. Fingers tracing over hips lightly, making their way to the button on your jeans. Popping the button loose he slid his hand inside your jeans. Just as his fingers made their way inside your panties, sliding one of his thick digits through your soaking folds…. The front door closed loudly.

A growl ripped through Jensen’s chest, he jumped off of you like someone had shot him. 

“Jay? You guys home? Gen sent you guys some dinner for tonight!” you heard the voice of another man yell through the house, making his way closer to your bedroom as you hurried to fix your close. 

Jensen hovering over you, his head in the bend of your neck. A deep groan leaving his lips. 

“Remind me to change the locks,” he said before getting off the bed. 

“Who is it Alpha?” 

You couldn’t help the whine that left your lips. He chuckles slightly coming back over to kiss you softly before moving to go meet your interrupter in the living room. 

“Jared, he’s a good friend of mine. We will pick up where we left off when he leaves Omega,” he said, brushing your lips with his thumb lightly before walking out of the bedroom. 

You didn’t know who this Jared is, but you did make a mental note to teach him how to knock.

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

If you missed the previous chapter read it here!! 

Promised Series Masterlist

Tag List:

@deanwanddamons​ @imabitch4jensen​ @rvgrsbrns​

Series Tag List:

@spnfamily-j2​ @onethirstyunicorn​ @stoneyggirl​ @bloo-moon-freak​ @musiclovinchic93​

[homoose]

Love Has a Learning Curve: Part IV (x OC)

Summary: Maggie visits Spencer at the university and finds that her old insecurities aren’t as dead as she thought.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x OC

Category: hurt/comfort, fluff

Warnings/Includes: implied smut, jealousy, insecurity, self-deprecation, vague mentions of previous emotional/mental abuse (Owen), mentions of cheating (Owen)

Word count: 3.2k

a/n: Owen’s really a piece of shit, huh?

Series Masterlist

———

“Could I come see you teach?”

Spencer looked up from his desk, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “It might be kind of boring. It’s a 100 level Intro to Profiling course.”

She peered over the side of the couch, closing her book. “Well, I don’t know anything about profiling, so an intro course would be right up my alley, don’t you think? And if you’re teaching it, I can guarantee it won’t be boring.”

He scrunched his nose in the way he sometimes did and clicked the cap on his pen once, twice, three times. “If you, um— if you really want to.”

She considered him for a moment before pushing herself up off the couch, coming around it to cross to his desk, perching herself on the corner. “You’ve seen me teach a bunch of times,” she said, knocking their knees together. “It’s only fair.”

He set his pen down and leaned back in his office chair, avoiding her eyes. She pulled her leg back, regretting her decision to ask. “It was just an idea. I don’t have to if you don’t want.”

As she moved to stand, he stopped her with a hand on her knee. “It’s not that. I don’t not want you to,” he clarified. He turned his chair to face her fully, peering up at her with a flush on his cheeks. “I just— I don’t know. You’re such a natural. I’m… awkward. Sometimes they just— stare at me.” 

Maggie scoffed. “I’m sure you’re not awkward.” She twirled one of the curls falling into his face around her finger, releasing it into a soft ringlet. “But seriously, if you don’t want me to come, it’s fine.”

He rolled his chair closer and ran his hands up the tops of her thighs. “I do want you to. Really.” 

He sat up straighter, craning his neck up towards her, and she couldn’t stop herself from smiling. She leaned down to meet his lips, and his hands wandered up to grasp at her hips. She laughed as he pulled her off the desk and practically into his lap, sliding his tongue into her mouth. She let him take it a little further, his hands traveling under her shirt and up over her back. 

When she pulled back to catch her breath, his dazed expression had her heart pounding. Any insecurity that managed to weasel its way into her psyche evaporated every time he looked at her. She ran a soft finger over the bridge of his nose. “Can you take a break?”

“Mhm,” he hummed, standing up and dragging her toward the bedroom with only a little too much enthusiasm. 

… 

“Okay, can I help you with anything?” Maggie asked, setting her bag down on the lecture podium. 

“Actually, yeah. Could you, um— write these topic notes,” he pulled out his notebook and flipped it open, “on that half of the board?”

“You got it, professor.” She accepted the notebook, turning to the board and uncapping the dry erase marker.

They worked quietly together, scrawling his notes across the white board, shoulders brushing comfortably together every so often. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him finish his side, capping the marker and stepping back to watch her. 

“This is much faster with two people. I should hire you.”

“You couldn’t afford my hourly rate,” she teased, leaning down a bit to copy the last bullet point. 

“Is there a boyfriend discount?” he asked, a soft fingertip tracing down her spine. 

She laughed as she capped the marker and set it in the tray, turning to face him and tilting her head in consideration. “Maybe we could work something out.”

He brought his hands to her hips, dug his fingers in, and pulled her closer. “Yeah?” He brushed his lips over hers and stepped forward, nearly pressing her back against the board. 

“Mmhmm,” she agreed, pressing a slow kiss to his mouth. She used her hands on his tummy to push him back a little. “But I charge double if you smudge it.”

“Fair.” He smiled and kissed her again, this time bringing his hands up to cradle her face. 

“As much as I’d love to kiss you forever,” she mumbled against his lips, “your students are going to be here any minute.”

He groaned and leaned his forehead against hers, and she laughed at his petulance. “I’m gonna go to the bathroom, and then I’ll sit up in the back. You won’t even know I’m here.”

He pulled back with a sigh. “You being here is all I’m going to think about.”

She kissed his nose and stepped around him to grab her bag. “I’ll try my best not to distract you.” She made her way off the lecture platform and up the aisle, turning back to ask, “Oh, office hours are right after class?”

“Yeah,” he confirmed, leaning against the lecture podium. “1:00 to 2:00. The quad is beautiful this time of year, and there’s a coffee shop if you wanted to hang out there.”

… 

After her bathroom break, she re-entered the lecture hall as quietly as possible, slipping into the last row of seats and setting her bag down on the desk in front of her. The room was more than two thirds full, with students crammed into the first few rows and then sparsely sprinkled throughout the back half of the room. But she only had eyes for him.

She’d seen him, kissed him less than ten minutes ago, and yet here she was— blushing like a schoolgirl and resisting the urge to pull at her collar.

Even from the back row, she could see the way his suit coat stretched across his broad shoulders, the way the button at the bottom of his cardigan didn’t quite reach, the way his pants pulled taut across his thighs. She’d seen him pick the outfit out of his closet this morning, watched him put it on, even helped him with the knot of the tie. She shouldn’t realistically be this rattled by the sight of him.

But something about the way he set his shoulders back a little, the way his arm moved underneath the fabric as he scrawled an additional note across the board, the way he turned and put his hands in his pockets and waited quietly for the class to settle— felt different.

“We’ve got a lot to cover today. Let’s get started.”

She didn’t pull her collar, but she did remove her jacket— she was suddenly so, so hot, practically sweating— and draped it across the back of the chair. He caught her eye, gave her a small smile, and then launched into a lecture about the foundations of building victimology.

Just as she suspected, he was an absolute natural. Unbelievably knowledgeable of course, but also incredibly enthusiastic and positively captivating. She couldn’t take her eyes off him. 

And neither, it seemed, could the class. She scolded herself for the train of thought— of course they’re looking at him, he’s their professor. But he was right when he’d said that they... stare at him. The class was mostly young women, although the ogling seemed to cross gender lines. 

She couldn’t blame them. He answered questions with ease and gave witty responses to the devil’s advocate types. His enthusiasm was endearing and charming as hell. And, of course, he looked damn good doing it. 

With just over ten minutes left of class, she gathered her jacket and bag, standing quietly and moving into the aisle. She caught his eye as she headed for the door, slightly reassured when she saw a flash of concern in his eyes. She smiled and made a sipping gesture, and he nodded minutely and continued with his lecture. 

…

Fifteen minutes later, she was on her way back down the hallway toward his office, a coffee in each hand. When she turned the corner at 12:57, she was stunned to see that a line was already forming. 

“You gotta be kidding me,” she muttered, approaching the crowd of undergraduates. 

One particularly perky coed stood directly in front of his door, and Maggie cleared her throat. When the girl turned, she held up the coffees and gestured to the door. “I’m so sorry. I— I’m just gonna drop this off. I’ll just be one minute.”

The girl took a small step back, barely allowing Maggie to squeeze through the door left slightly ajar. It creaked slightly as she stepped through it, and Spencer’s head lifted from where he was hunched over his desk. 

“Hey!” He stood and shuffled around the side of the desk.

“Hi.” She forced a smile. “Sorry, I won’t keep you, I just— thought you might like a pick-me-up,” she said, holding out the cup to him. 

He sighed with relief. “You’re a mind reader.” He accepted the coffee cup with a grateful smile. She moved to leave, and he lightly snagged her wrist. “Hey.” He slowly pulled her back toward the desk, his eyes darting down to her mouth. 

She hummed, and he leaned forward to kiss her, moved his hand up to cup her cheek in his warm palm. He sighed into her mouth and gently tugged at her bottom lip with his teeth before pressing a quick peck to it. “Thank you.” He pressed a final kiss to her mouth with chapstick-soft lips. “I’ll see you in an hour?”

“Mhm,” she smiled again, a little more genuinely. “See you then, professor.”

She slipped back through the door, avoiding the curious eyes of the crowd. The hallway felt tight and constricting, and she was grateful for the way the fresh air hit her as she pushed through the door back out into the quad. 

She found an empty seat on a bench and set her coffee and bag down, shuffling through the latter to find her book. She flipped open to her bookmark, sure that she could finish at least two chapters during his office hour. As she attempted to read, however, her mind could not stop turning over the image of Spencer being admired by fifty young, attractive coeds. 

She read the same sentence five times before closing her book with a huff. She closed her eyes and tried to slow her breathing, focusing on a deep inhalation and a long exhale. She carefully packed her book back into her bag, opting instead to sip her coffee and watch the bustle of the quad. 

It wasn’t that she was jealous, exactly. Jealousy wasn’t the right word. She trusted Spencer wholeheartedly. He was honest and kind, and he made it abundantly clear how much he was attracted to her.

She sighed shakily and closed her eyes against the unexpected tears that she could feel brimming just below the surface. It wasn’t jealousy. It was simply the insecurity that had always been there. Well, not always, she supposed, but long enough. Ten years. Owen had been out of her life for nearly half that time, but the mental scars he’d left her with would probably never fully heal. 

She was twenty one years old when they first started dating, and twenty six by the time he ended it. Five years of her life spent with a man who had conditioned her to believe that she had nothing to offer. Her work was insignificant. Her family was low-class. Her friends were irritating. Her laugh was obnoxious. She was immature and loud and annoying and daft. She should be grateful that he was interested in her despite these flaws. 

As if he hadn’t made all of that clear enough, he’d ended their relationship by cheating on her— not once, not twice, but consistently for nearly a year. And it seemed that almost everyone had known about it… except for her. That had been the most humiliating part; he’d had this woman in their bed, and she’d been completely unaware. She had cooked for him, attended his work events, slept beside him, subjected herself to his wrath, and never even considered that he could be with someone else.  

It took years for her to recover and rebuild. Years before she was ready to date again. It required her to construct a foundation of independence and self-love that she’d never had. And nearly five years later, she finally felt beautiful and strong and worthy. 

So why was her mind suddenly replaying every horrid thing Owen had ever said to her? Spencer was nothing like Owen. Spencer was kind, loving, and supportive. He was brilliant, talented, and accomplished. 

She pressed her lips together and swiped a hand under her eye, catching the lone tear that had managed to escape. That was exactly the problem. Spencer was all those wonderful things, and suddenly she couldn’t understand why he wanted her.

She pulled out her phone to check the time, huffing out a breath as she realized she’d spent nearly an hour dredging up old wounds. She closed her eyes and repeated her daily affirmation. I am powerful, and I am capable. I respect and honor my mind and my body. I am worthy, and I am enough. I love myself fully, just as I am. 

Now she just needed to believe it. 

She gathered her things, finishing up the last sips of her coffee before scoping out a garbage can. She tossed her empty cup in the bin on her way back to the building. As she opened the door, the blast of air conditioning cooled her sweaty skin. She stopped by the bathroom to splash her face with cool water, taking only a moment to look at herself under the harsh fluorescent lights. 

She made her way down the hallway, turning the corner to see that there were still three students in line outside Spencer’s office. She checked the time to see that it was technically five minutes past office hours. She dropped quietly into one of the two chairs across the hallway from his door. 

The other chair was occupied by a student, quite clearly waiting for Spencer, judging by the heavy sigh that accompanied his glance up at the office door. Maggie almost laughed at the way he aggressively checked his watch, tapping his foot rapidly on the floor. 

“Is it— um. Is it always like this?” She gestured to Spencer’s door. 

The tapping stopped, and the kid turned to her with another sigh. “Every. Goddamn. Time.” He shrugged his shoulders. “I mean, I get it. I do. But, man. I’m just trying to ask about the structure of the final. This is the third week in a row that I’ve been here and I still haven’t seen him.” He checked his watch again and then ran a hand over his face. “And now I gotta get to my next class. I’m gonna have to leave early next week to camp out,” he joked.

He stood and gathered his things, and Maggie did laugh a little then. “Good luck.”

He waved and headed off down the hallway, and Maggie turned back to see a girl leaving out through Spencer’s half-open door, looking positively dreamy. She barely resisted the urge to roll her eyes as the next girl stepped through the door. 

She waited another twenty minutes for the final two students to finish their visits. When the last student made her way out the door and down the hall, Maggie stood and smoothed down the skirt of her dress. She crossed the hallway and peered into his office, knocking on the door frame.

Spencer raised his head with a panicked look, his face softening into relief when he saw it was her. “Hey. Close the door,” he begged.

Maggie stepped into his office and closed the door quietly behind her. She finally took a look around the space— fairly small but tastefully decorated. The wall across from her was one enormous bookcase, filled to capacity, of course. Light filtered in from a single window, and his mahogany desk sat on the far wall, accompanied by a wing back leather office chair. Behind his desk was a low shelf lined with a globe, some other trinkets, and a plethora of picture frames. 

“Sorry that took so long.” He ran a hand over his face. “I don’t know why my office hours are always so busy.”

She hummed, crossing to the gigantic bookshelf. “No?”

“No,” he confirmed exasperatedly. “No one else has that many students at their office hours. I asked.”

She laughed a little. “You asked?”

“Well, yeah.” He drew his brows together. “I don’t know if my syllabus is confusing, or if I’m— not clear enough in my lectures, maybe?” He dragged both hands through his hair and leaned back in his chair. “But there are always so many questions, and I mean— there are no stupid questions, but…” He sighed. “Sometimes the questions are stupid.”

She did laugh at that, full and loud. “Well, if my professors looked like Dr. Spencer Reid, I imagine I’d come up with a litany of questions, too. Stupid or otherwise.”

He was quiet, and she ran her finger along the book she was studying rather intently. She felt him moving toward her more than heard it, felt his eyes on her. She couldn’t bring herself to look at him, instead pretending to peruse the titles in front of her, books full of theories that she’d never be able to understand. 

“Are you— are you jealous?” he asked incredulously. 

“No,” she defended, a little too quickly and voice a little too high.

“It’s okay if you are. Jealousy is— it’s a very normal human emotion.” He cleared his throat. “It’s, um— it’s kind of hot, actually.”

She rolled her eyes, but his confession made her feel a little bit better. He put a hand on her waist to turn her to face him, and she could feel her cheeks burning— hoped he couldn’t see it. She couldn’t quite meet his eyes, instead staring at a spot on the wall behind his head.

“But you know you have no reason to be, right?” He cupped a gentle hand under her chin, finally brought her eyes to his. “Why would I be interested in girls when I already have a woman?”

When she didn’t say anything, he continued, “A woman who brings me coffee, and buys gifts for my fish, and helps me make PowerPoints, and goes to fancy dinners at Le Chateau LaMontagne.” 

Her lips twitched into the start of a smile, and he brought his hands down to lace their fingers together. “Who forgives me when I mess up, and lets me cry on her shoulder at 3:00am, and makes me a solution kit, and helps me be a better person.” 

She sniffed but tried to lighten the mood. “She sounds pretty great.”

“She is great. She’s remarkable.” He tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. “I love you.”

And there was that look again. Spencer looked at her like she’d hung the moon and the stars and every single celestial body in the galaxy. Like the answer to every question was contained within her atoms. It was almost enough to have her believing it, too. Maybe someday she would.

She squeezed his hand. “I love you, too.” For now, that was enough.

———

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[apparitionism]

Run

This is a pointless AU, a little idea from elsewhere that’s in the process of turning into a story-esque thing, not a comedy or a drama as such, just a “here’s another way two people might find their way to each other” tale. Also I’ve never deployed a Giselle character, really, and I figured I might as well try. She’s not a bad guy, mind you, nor even an obstacle; the only obstacles, at base, are misunderstandings and circumstances. Conventional ones. They might accurately be called clichéd. Anyway, this is some kind of starting line. Bang. (That’s meant to be a starter’s pistol, by the way; don’t be getting any ideas.)

Run

At four in the morning, Myka Bering sat three steps from the bottom of the dark staircase in her apartment’s foyer and pushed her feet into new running shoes. They looked like nothing special: a standard navy blue faux leather, with their manufacturer’s stylized “Z” logo embossed in silver on the sides. The pristine white of both the slim soles and the no-tie laces pleased her, despite the fact that their just-out-of-the-box luster would of course start graying at the first exposure to the city.

Myka stood up in the shoes and bounced on her toes, her ritual commencement of every day’s run.

The instant her heels left the ground, she understood just how difficult her life was about to become.

For this decidedly unspecial-seeming shoe—the Deceit—represented the latest attempt by the Zelus athletic corporation to gain an insurmountable advantage in the sport of running.

Myka’s job was to stop them.

*

At her desk at work later that morning, Myka revised, for accuracy, her overly dramatic thought of the morning: a small part of her job was to help stop them. Her actual job was to co-direct certification and compliance for Athletics Authority International, the globe-spanning organization that governed running, jumping, and throwing events. The organization regularly dealt with issues of equipment inappropriately boosting performance; thus Deceits, understood one way—nondramatically—were just the latest technological challenge to the idea of a level playing field.

But based on her morning’s run, Myka did not think Deceits could be understood nondramatically.

“Did you try the Deceits yet?” she asked Pete Lattimer, her co-directing partner. They had taken to joking that in their area, he was the “athletics”—an Olympic-team-alternate decathlete—while she was the “international,” for she’d got her job based largely on her wide-ranging language fluency. Myka suspected that today, athletics aside, his answer would be “no”; they’d received the shipment of test shoes only a few days ago, and Pete was focusing more on language than sports lately anyway, Duolingo-ing his heart out in Spanish so as to one day be able to impress Kelly Hernandez, head of Latin American outreach, such that she would first agree to go to lunch with him and then, swayed partially by his language skills but mostly by his charm, acknowledge that they were destined to spend their lives together. Myka wasn’t at all sure Kelly was going to persuaded by Pete’s bilingual (or “bilingual”) flirting... though he was also concentrating heavily on vocabulary related to sandwiches, so he’d probably end up with at least a food-related happy ending.

“Nah,” he said, confirming her prediction about the shoes. “I’m guessing you must’ve, though. They as crazy as those trials records make ’em seem?”

“Crazier,” Myka said. “To me. But I want to know how they really feel. To a real athlete.”

“Somebody needs a real athlete? I see why Lattimer’s not up to it,” remarked a tall woman as she approached Myka’s desk. Myka looked up and smiled.

“Same goes for you, Giselle,” Pete said, but with cheer. “How’s communications?”

“Turn those children over my knee if I could,” Giselle replied, equally cheerful. “That’s where you can help: how’s your javelin these days?”

“Why don’t you just run away? I thought you were supposed to be fast or something.”

Giselle Wade was fast—Myka knew it, and she knew Pete knew it too. Giselle was a legend in East Texas, where she had shattered high school track records, particularly at the longer distances. She’d done the same to NCAA times, placing some out of reach for what would probably be generations. U.S. bests had fallen to her too, though worlds had been elusive... but she had some impressive Olympic hardware all the same.

“Outran you,” Giselle said, which was true; her 1500-meter times were faster than Pete’s had ever been.

They would have gone on for a while before they wound down, but their jabs gave Myka the opening she needed. “Speaking of running,” she said to Giselle, “did you try the Deceits?”

“I did.”

“And?”

“And exactly what you think,” Giselle said. Before Myka could get her to clarify, she went on, “And this very morning I heard Zelus wants to push a version with spikes for sprinters.”

Myka objected, “But the thin soles!” Sole height was a major issue. The Deceit’s predecessor shoe, the Zelus Induct—which had also given runners a clear advantage—had been recognizable due to its oversized sole, packed with lightweight foam, that effectively lengthened a runner’s legs. The sole contained within the foam a carbon plate that acted as a spring, enabling a stride that used less leg energy and thus translated into distance runners having more kick over an entire race. AAI had rapidly banned that shoe, but the Deceit upped the ante because it somehow managed to do all the Induct’s dirty work, and apparently even more, in a standard-sized sole. Sprinters’ soles were basically flat, though, so how could the foam and plates fit? Not to mention: “Why would Zelus want to start a fight on another front?”

���Some other company rolls out skinny little cheat spikes first if Zelus doesn’t get on it? Old story about the toothpaste and the tube? You know.” Giselle shrugged. “All we can do is try to slow it down.”

“Ha!” Pete barked. “I see what you did there! Slow it down! Fast shoes!”

Giselle shook her head and murmured “that man” mostly to herself, but a little bit to Myka, who nodded in sympathy a commensurate little bit. Then Giselle said, “Thank sweet Jesus I don’t have to run in Deceits or against them. Glad I’m out of that part of it now.”

“I’m glad I was never in it,” Myka said.

“You know you got the discipline,” Giselle said. She’d told Myka this before.

It was a real compliment, but: “I don’t have the gift,” Myka responded, as she had in the past.

“Discipline counts. Makes up for a lot.”

“Those Deceits do too,” Myka said. “I barely even broke a sweat this morning.”

“That’s a shame.”

Myka offered a “huh?” expression, though she was pretty sure she knew what was coming.

“You, all hot and sweaty?” And Giselle sighed, a parody of infatuation. “Yes indeed...”

Myka rolled her eyes, and then they both laughed. It was a ritual: Giselle “flirted,” Myka “suffered,” they laughed.

*

Some months ago, not long after Giselle had been brought on board by AAI, she’d asked Myka out.

“I have a boyfriend,” Myka had said, because that was what she almost always said, as a learned reflex, in situations like that.

“Well,” Giselle said. “Look at me, getting the wrong impression. Sorry, Myka. Guess we’ll keep it professional.”

Giselle tended to put a drag on the last word of every sentence, a vocal habit that kept a listener hanging: would she say more? It might or might not have been intentional, but it was effective, particularly when combined with her linger of a Texas drawl. Thus her “professional” came out “pro... fess... io... nal.” Myka half-expected her to follow up with “or not.”

“Well,” Myka said back, when it became apparent that no more was in fact forthcoming, “not totally professional. We can still get coffee, right?” Because she did like Giselle.

Ah, there it was: Giselle gave her a still-flirty head toss and said, “Not to make the same mistake twice, but I did ‘get coffee’ with a lady one time and it turned into three days in Monaco. So we’ll see...”

Myka rolled her eyes, but then she laughed, and Giselle did too: the start of the ritual.

That should have been that.

But an international athletic governing body was apparently like every other semi-hermetically sealed social environment: a school, a team, a lab. Things got around. Mere hours after that conversation—which, granted, had taken place in the 40th-floor elevator lobby, the transit funnel for every employee of AAI, which occupied the entirety of that skyscraper level—Pete had marched back into their area from lunch and confronted Myka with, “I heard Giselle asked you out.”

Myka had tried not to respond, because really, what was there to say?

He went on, “And I heard you told her you have a boyfriend, which is what you said way back in history when I asked you out.”

“History? That was less than two years ago.”

“Anyway, I heard she believed you. Just like I did.”

“That was the idea. With her and with you.”

“I still don’t see why you didn’t just say ‘Pete, I don’t want to go out with you.’ It would’ve been fine.”

“I’d barely met you. I had no idea if you’d be a decent guy about it.”

“But I am a decent guy. About everything! So it would’ve been fine.”

“But I didn’t know you were a decent guy.” She had barely started at AAI; all she’d known about Pete Lattimer was that he’d been a decent decathlete. And that was no help at all, for every new coworker she met was a former Olympian or member of some national team or at least a famous ex-coach. It all made her feel as if she had no business working for the organization in the first place. They should have said that “athletic” was a requirement... each successive introduction seemed to drum with more force into her that a law degree and several languages were nothing against a sub-four mile.

Given that insecurity, she hadn’t needed any additional inputs or variables, so when Pete had said, “We should get dinner after work sometime,” she’d said what she almost always said, as a learned reflex, in situations like that. It had become a reflex because regardless of any other complicating circumstances—such as a new job where her body itself didn’t belong—it was easier. It was almost always easier than whatever might follow her saying anything else.

Pete said, “You didn’t know I was a decent guy, so you lied about having a boyfriend. And now you’ve lied about it again.”

She’d winced at the word “lied.” It was accurate, but she didn’t like it. Then you probably shouldn’t do it, her conscience told her. She told it to shut up. Then she told Pete, “I know that and you know that. Giselle doesn’t need to know that.”

“But you already like her better than you would’ve ever liked me.” At that, Myka started to protest, but he waved her off. “You know I mean because she’s a lady. Why didn’t you say you have a girlfriend?”

Speaking of what was easier: “boyfriend” was easier than “girlfriend.” It raised fewer questions, and it raised fewer... thoughts. And that was easier too.

It was supposed to raise fewer thoughts, anyway.

Fortunately, Pete hadn’t waited for an answer, or for Myka to start thinking any thoughts, instead moving on to what he clearly found most important: “And lady-wise, don’t you think she’s hot? I think she’s hot.”

Myka sighed. “Yes, I think she’s hot. In fact I know she’s hot. I have eyes.”

“So go out with her. She’s hot, you’re hot. Sizzle!”

“I just don’t want to.”

“Then why didn’t you go ahead and tell her that? Do you think she isn’t a decent guy?”

“Pretty sure she’s not a guy at all,” Myka had said, trying to joke him into just... stopping.

She didn’t want to get into the complicated conversation that would have ensued if she’d admitted to having genuinely, if fleetingly, regretted her reflex—because he certainly wasn’t wrong about Giselle being a woman, and he double-certainly wasn’t wrong about her looks. She was stunning; she’d had that wildly successful athletic career, then transitioned with seemingly no friction at all into modeling, at which she was even more wildly successful. Her legs were as long as the miles she used to run, and Myka was certainly, in that sense, human.

But Giselle had already developed a reputation at AAI, despite her brief tenure, for what could charitably be called a... short attention span. Maybe it was the inevitable result of her having been able to have just about anything—and anyone—she wanted, in not one but two elevated realms, or maybe it had always been Giselle’s personality as a romantic socializer, but while Myka had no trouble observing it from the outside, as a characteristic of her friend Giselle, she didn’t particularly want to be subjected to it. What if she slipped and overinvested? Exactly the kind of difficulty she didn’t need, regardless of any other complicating circumstances. Exactly the kind of difficulty she had never needed, and if she had slipped and fallen into it in the past? Well, that was the past, and she certainly didn’t need to revisit any part of that, much less repeat it.

These months later, however, some days Myka had a vague sense that a day should come when she should talk herself into telling Giselle she didn’t have a (nonexistent) boyfriend anymore. A day, that was to say, when she should ask for Giselle’s attention, if only for a short span. It seemed normal, human, to think that a short span of time, even if it led to a complicating slip and overinvestment, might—should?—be better than nothing, and so some days, Myka tried to want to talk herself into that.

But on different days, she’d think, definitively, I don’t want to. Because talking herself into it felt dishonest. Even if Giselle subscribed solely to Pete’s “she’s hot, you’re hot; sizzle” theory of the case, even if both of them might have enjoyed much of that short span of time: dishonest. Inauthentic. Deceitful.

“You’re not very good at having fun, are you?” Pete had asked her once, when she’d told him, in response to his sincere inquiry, that she had never actually dreamed of having Disneyland all to herself for a day. She’d agreed that no, she really wasn’t very good at having fun, and he’d said, “You need to get out more. Maybe not to Disney, but you need to get out more.”

You need to get out more. She’d laughed at him, because the most out she ever got, away from work, was for her 4am run. That, she could talk herself into without feeling dishonest at all. Far from it: she reveled in the discipline required for that strict self-persuasion every day, which was probably why she’d found that she could, ultimately, work well—reasonably well—with athletes. Athletics at its highest level was discipline, and Giselle and Pete and most of the others could see that Myka got that, even had that, as Giselle kept telling her.

But as Myka always told Giselle in return (not that Giselle needed telling), for real athletes, that discipline had to be kissed by the divine, and Myka had no access to such physical divinity. None at all. She was an exercise runner, lowest of the low in terms of athletic esteem. She knew because that was how the athletes said it, with a twist of pity: exercise runner. That was what she was, and she knew it.

Until she ran in the Deceits.

They were named, of course, for their unassuming look and for the illicit advantage they gave the world-class athletes. But for Myka-the-unesteemed, they were differently deceptive: they made her feel like A Runner. Giselle and her peers had been born with the kind of legs these shoes changed Myka’s into, springing from the ground with power, creating a feeling of “this is my body; this is what it can do, and if I push, still more,” and miraculously—deceptively—there was still more it could be pushed to do. Myka felt like her body before the Deceits had been Clark Kent, like it had been waiting for the chance to reveal that it wore the suit and had superpowers, like this had always been how she could run.

It wasn’t real. But it felt real.

So she understood why Deceits were breaking records—speed records now, but eventually, they would break sales records, too.

She also understood, very clearly, that they should be banned.

Even for exercise runners like her: deceiving oneself, Myka felt, was worse than deceiving others, regardless of whether they were fellow competitors or the outside world in general. Just as she didn’t want to talk herself into Giselle, she didn’t want to run every morning in those shoes. If she did, that self-deception would become a habit of mind, and Myka deep-knew that being clear-eyed about oneself was essential. A moral duty, her inner rector told her, and even though she would probably have been happier to not live her life quite that ramrod-straight (to, for example, be better at having fun), it had been her thought as she’d begun that first run in the Deceits. She’d kept on thinking it, throughout her entire route, as she devoured the miles with her newly athletic strides. Clear-eyed, mor-al, du-ty. Right-left, right-left, right-left.

*

Administratively, the world of athletics moved at a speed inverse to that of the track. The relatively “rapid” ban of the Deceit’s predecessor had taken six months to work out and implement, so it was no surprise that several weeks elapsed before AAI even scheduled negotiations with Zelus reps over the new shoes. They would be delicate, the negotiations, for Zelus money was essential to the sport. It was imperative not to make any penalties too prohibitive or too “insulting” to the company or its affiliates. Could already-ratified world records set in Deceits be voided? Would that lead to Zelus-sponsored athletes boycotting competitions? Could Deceits be banned? Would that be at all enforceable?

Myka knew that Dan Badger, the president and CEO of AAI, would be scrutinizing everything she and Pete and their team proposed. Newly appointed to show that AAI was turning a regulatory corner, he had made clear that his watchword was “integrity,” and that applied not only to the sport as a whole, but to every athlete who participated in it, every piece of equipment they touched, every employee under his purview, every official action they took. Unofficial actions, too: there was, as far as Myka could tell, no ethical give in Badger’s worldview. Where prior heads might have made a handshake deal of some sort with Zelus’s own CEO with regard to the Deceits—and Myka suspected something along those lines had occurred for the Inducts, most likely involving a wink-nod to the already-in-the-pipelines Deceits—Badger would have considered the mere suggestion of such a thing a personal affront.

“Why doesn’t Badge like you more?” Pete once asked Myka. “You’re exactly like him.” Myka wasn’t, in fact, exactly like him, for Badger was an athlete’s athlete, a hurdling champion from a decades-ago golden age of British track and field. That gilded aura was a carapace around him, deflecting whatever might have been directed his way from beings he considered lesser, including nonathletes like Myka. It wasn’t actively insulting or cruel, just... clear. The athletes called him “Badge,” among themselves and to his face, while Myka had the sense that if she uttered that collegial syllable, no one, and certainly not the man himself, would even perceive that any sound had escaped her lips.

Pete wasn’t entirely wrong, though; Myka had enough consonance with Badger that she couldn’t quite bring herself to resent him. His absolutely unimpeachable reputation was supplemented by the fact that he looked exactly as an athletic lion of his age and era should: face appropriately tanned for health and creased for character, hair silver and full, height calibrated as if to the millimeter to be imposing but not incongruous. He was the ideal figurehead for an organization that wanted to burnish its standing as a virtuous guardian of all that was competitively good in athletics.

In the end, Myka’s own inclinations aligned with her need to fulfill Badger’s expectations, yet neither she nor he could change the underlying economics of the sport. She might have been moved, under other circumstances, to restore her single-run-sullied Deceits to their silver Zelus box and push that box to the back of her closet, but instead she spent an inordinate amount of time looking at them. Was there any way at all to tell, just by looking, that they could do what they did?

Enforcement was a matter of measurement and testing, but these shoes were a drug for which no test existed. AAI had hired a group of materials engineers to take them apart, so Myka now knew how they did what they did: even newer foam, plus two carbon plates, set at angles to each other. They really might as well have been springs—invisible to the outside-shoe naked eye, but springs all the same.

AAI could nominally ban double-plate soles, but it couldn’t possibly dismantle every Zelus runner’s footwear at every event to ensure that the ban was being respected. Myka saw no way out other than to ban Zelus shoes across the board (for she’d been thinking, too, of what Giselle had said about spikes), but that brought her back to financial impossibility. And around she went again. And again. And again.

Fortunately or unfortunately, the rest of athletics administration proceeded without heed for Deceits, no matter how long Myka stared at them, no matter how many negotiating scenarios she tried, unfruitfully, to game out. Meets and championships and trials all continued, requiring level upon level of authorization and accompanying paperwork...

One morning, Myka was concentrating, squint-eyed, on a spreadsheet when she felt a tap on her shoulder. “Pete,” she began, still squinting at her screen, “I told you if I don’t approve the new certification tables for posting this morning—”

“I’m so sorry,” said an English-accented female voice, “but I’m not Pete. And I seem to be lost.”

Myka looked up. No, you’re not, was her first thought, which resolved into: You’re not Pete, and you’re not lost. You belong right here.

TBC

*

A few notes, just because:

I made up the governing body; it’s intended to be vaguely like the real organization World Athletics (formerly IAAF), which determines what’s allowable in track and field competition, but I’m not trying to replicate its structure at all. Further, the actual organization maintains that it doesn’t consult with shoe companies before making regulatory decisions... whether you believe that claim is of course entirely up to you.

Two passages from Freud’s Civilization and Its Discontents are in some sense guiding my thinking here (because I’m like that). The first is this: “Man has, as it were, become a kind of prosthetic God. When he puts on all his auxiliary organs he is truly magnificent; but these organs have not grown on to him and they still give him much trouble at times.” He’s talking about cars and eyeglasses and such things, but obviously the idea is applicable to athletic tech. An idea from a little earlier in the book seems relevant as well: “What we call happiness in the strictest sense comes from the (preferably sudden) satisfaction of needs which have been dammed up to a high degree, and it is from its nature only possible as an episodic phenomenon.” Right? We’ll see about that latter part though, Dr. Freud.

Finally, as that rude anon suggested some months ago, I’m obviously speaking to a community that’s mostly inactive now. But I’m a keeper of faith: one of the things I do best is wait. So one point of this story is that it exists. I’m waiting. C’mon and wait with me, if you like.

[bngtanah]

I’m (not) With The Band. | o5

summary: Adrienne is an indie producer who is hired to help co-produce BTS’ next album alongside their resident producer; Suga. Despite the initial opposition on both ends, the pair spend time together, share a few stories, dreams and aspirations and begin to hit it off really well. Wrapped up in the whirlwind of late nights and heated disagreements and reconciliations, Min Yoongi and Adrienne Rolle find themselves growing closer and closer. One night they decide to cross the barrier between personal and professional and do their best make a relationship work against all odds.

pairing: idol!Yoongi  x Named OC

word count: 7k genre: drama, romance, smut(eventually)

chapters: prologue| o1| o2| o3| o4| o5| o6| o7| o8| o9| 10| 11|

warning: light angst, smut, fluff, workplace relationship, slow burn, sexual themes, ambw, enemies to friends to lovers, developing relationship

a/n: still a fool. still re-uploading.

"No, I've got today off, technically. My partner and his band mates have a super packed schedule today and I can't finish the two songs we have without him so I'm just working on stuff at home, personal things."

"You're going to stay at home all day? Why not explore, make some friends?"

The fatigue in Danielle's voice was clear and Adrienne felt guilty for keeping her sister up so late but it was barely mid-morning where she was and they hardly had any time to catch up with one another since Adrienne and the rest of the team had worked even harder in an attempt to finish the album ahead of schedule. They had months until it was due to be completed and Adrienne didn't really see the point in grinding so hard so early but Yoongi didn't seem to share that sentiment since whenever Adrienne brought it up he repeated that he would rather have everything done as early as possible than lag behind. It was annoying but Andy couldn't bother to argue in favour of laziness.

"I have friends, the boys are my friends and they're all busy today," Andy chuckled and slid down further into the corner of the couch she was currently wedged into. 

"Find friends that aren't busy 362 days of the year," Danielle countered with a small yawn.

Adrienne snickered and silently rolled her eyes, just imagining the judgmental look Danielle must have been giving her. "Yeah, I'll get right on that," She replied with heavy sarcasm, earning a small annoyed groan from the older woman.

"You little brat."

Adrienne giggled.

"If you won't go make new friends, at least, tell me about the boy band. Are they as corny as I think they are?"

"They are actually not corny at all..." Adrienne paused as the image of Jungkook and Hoseok improvising a dance that would put her interpretive stretching to shame during their practice the night before came to mind  "They're not as corny as you think they are.... most of the time."

"Mhm, so they're corny as hell. Is your partner still being a dick?"

"Yes... and no? I've been watching him and he pretty much treats everyone the same way, snippy and kinda rude but I don't think he's truly a dick. I think he's one of those people that wants everyone to think their an ass but he's actually kind of sweet and caring, generous-"

"Is he cute?"

"I-What?" Adrienne sputtered and sat up straight.

Danielle cackled as softly as she could and rested a hand against her rounded stomach, "Girl I know you heard me. Is he cute?"

"I don't know..... I haven't really paid attention to that." Adrienne threaded her fingertips through her braids and scratched her scalp in thought "I guess he's not ugly, I'll send you a picture you can judge." Andy pulled her cell phone away from her ear and swiped her fingers across the surface to send a picture she'd taken a few days earlier.

"He looks pissed." 

She heard Danielle commenting as she pressed the receiver back to her ear.

"Yeah... I had to force him to take it with me, I don't know how to make him smile yet."

"Why do you still have those braids in your head?"

Adrienne groaned, "Listen, you can only judge one person at a time me or Yoongi,"

"Is that is his name?"

Adrienne grunted a yes and aimlessly bit down on her fingernails, suddenly finding her sister approval very necessary. 

"It doesn't really matter if I think he's cute, do you?"

"It doesn't matter if I do either! We work together." Adrienne groaned and threw herself back against the cushions.

"Right, because being attracted to someone you work with is something Adrienne would never do."

The sarcasm was noted but ignored for Danielle's sake.

"It is. Besides, you know I'm more attracted to talent and shit than appearance."

"And....?"

"Annnd. I think Yoongi is..... very talented." Andy replied with an immediate smile that spread into an even wider grin when Danielle began laughing at her response.

"Not to totally change the subject or anything but how is my niece?"

"Your niece OR nephew has released the stranglehold on my bladder to rest for a few hours before waking me up at the ass crack of dawn to begin the terror again, I should be in a deep sleep right now."

"Shit, what time is there?"

"A little after 1."

"Seriously? Go to bed Dani."

"No, it's fine we can talk. Lloyd is asleep and I'm in the living room being sneaky."

"Danielle please take your pregnant ass to bed, I'm about to start working anyway so I can't talk anymore."

"... Are you sure?"

"Positive. Good night!"

"Love ya, little one. Wait, one last question, you're still flying in the week of my due date right? Lloyd and I just finished up the guest room."

"Love you too, and of course I'll be there my niece won't be born without me there to welcome her into the world."

Danielle chuckled before bidding her younger sister goodnight one last time and hanging up.

Adrienne pouted once the call was disconnected and tossed her phone onto the coffee table. She missed her sister more than she realised and each time they got the chance to talk it only made Andy feel more discouraged; instead of finding comfort in her older sister's voice she only focused on the fact that she was still so far away from everything she knew and even though her daily life was becoming easier for her to manage alone Andy still had to come home to an empty apartment and leave voice mails for her only family member to return half a day later. It was mildly depressing.

Huffing a brief sigh, Adrienne forced herself upwards and off the couch; she had no plans of letting her momentary gloom take over the rest of her day. Her arms stretched for the ceiling as Andy began searching for her laptop so she could begin tinkering with the few songs she planned on keeping for herself. A faint smile dusted her lips when she found the machine and Yoongi's voice played in her head; repeating his judgmental question about why she had so many stickers on her laptop. Her sister's question had honestly taken her aback, not because she didn't find Yoongi cute but because she wasn't sure if that was the right adjective to describe him with. Puppies and kittens were cute, but Min Yoongi was something Andy just didn't know how to define yet.

Almost like clockwork, just as the laptop booted up and Adrienne felt comfortable with her legs crossed in the couch, there was a series of frantic knocks against Adrienne's front door and she cursed under her breath as she unfolded her legs and got up to stomp towards the door. Her lips were twisted into a scowl while she unlocked the door and pulled it open but the person on the other side made her eyebrow knit closely together with uncertainty rather than anger. 

"Yoongi-ssi?"

Yoongi was out of breath with his hand gripping the door frame to catch himself, dressed in a disheveled sweater and a pair of ripped jeans Adrienne had seen him in far too many times and a pair of sneakers that seemed to give him an extra inch of height. Andy smiled brightly as she always did when they met but her eyes still gave away just how confused she was to see him at her door.

"Is everything okay Y-"

"I can't wait anymore Andy, I need you." Yoongi emitted in a hurried reply and Adrienne's eyes went wide with shock, her heart unexpectedly beat faster and the tips of her ears burn with warmth. There was something in the way he gasped her name while still attempting to catch his breath and the look of purpose in his eyes when he stopped looking at the ground and caught her gaze that was inexplicably attractive. Adrienne would deny it if questioned but an instant flush of heat rushed both to her cheeks and between her legs when she returned his eye contact.

"Need me... What?"

"I need you to come with me," Yoongi repeated, this time completing his sentence and giving Andy the chance to breathe a sigh of relief "I don't have time to explain everything but the release date moved up and we now have a month less to finish."

The brief statement brought Adrienne's priorities back to the forefront and her arms and jaw dropped when he was done.

"What?! How do they expect us to finish everything an entire month early, this is bullshit!"

"Yeah, I know. Can you complain on the way to the car? Everyone's waiting."

"Oh... Maybe you can say that first next time? Just give me a second to get dressed," Adrienne replied quickly as she spun around and closed the door in Yoongi's face.

It only took her a few minutes to dress and collect what tools she could carry along with her but for Yoongi, it might as well have been an hour. His foot tapped against the ground impatiently as he glanced down at his watch with every passing second, then ran to the entrance of the alleyway to silence the honking before returning to Adrienne's door just as she was walking out with her laptop and backpack in tow.

"Does it always take you this long to get dressed?"

"It was three minutes Yoongi, you can't show up at my apartment unannounced and expect me to run around on your schedule" Adrienne answered as she locked her front door and began following Yoongi towards the van where she could see the rest of the boys waiting to pull off.

"It wasn't unannounced, I called you five times, but you didn't answer."

Andy perked up to argue but instead pulled her mobile phone from her back pocket and bit down on her bottom lip when she saw that there were multiple missed calls from his number and a few text messages.

"Sorry, I was on a call and it was on silent," She said with a sheepish grin while she shoved the device back into her pocket and fought with pushing her laptop into her backpack.

Yoongi shrugged his shoulders and gestured for her to hand him the bag and laptop so she could walk faster. 

"Learn how you answer your cell phone, this could have been a disaster," He chastised as he swung the strap over his shoulder.

"Of course, Leader-nim," 

"Don't call me that, you know I don-"

Adrienne cut off Yoongi's whining once they reached the open door of the van by greeting everyone in her cheery fashion and taking the first empty seat available, followed by Yoongi who took the seat next to her and pushed her rucksack back towards her once the van pulled forward. Despite their smiling faces when the rest of the boys greeted her, Adrienne could tell that their energy was waning; it was only the middle of the day but she was sure they had already completed a full day's work, with hours of grinding left to go. Andy was already tired just thinking about what they had left to do.

"So where are we headed now?" Adrienne asked, pulling her backpack close to her chest.

"Video and photo shoot, it's probably going to take the rest of the day," Namjoon replied from his seat up front "They're usually really boring but it might not be so bad with you around" He continued and turned around to smile gently in Adrienne's direction. Andy mirrored his grin and opened her mouth to reply before she heard Yoongi's clearing his throat to get her attention.

"We don't really have time for this, I came for you so we could finish working not catch up with everyone," Yoongi said listlessly once Adrienne was looking at him and she nodded without answering. She knew that if she had answered her words would not have been docile so Adrienne found it best just to let him simmer in his attitude if he wanted to do that. Yoongi shot a Namjoon a brief look as Adrienne leaned forward to pull out her laptop and Namjoon took the hint to turn around, for now, he had plenty of chances to talk to Andy for the rest of the day and he knew that Yoongi was always a little testy about his music, it was better for everyone to not disturb him.

Yoongi however, wasn't worried about finishing their work on time at all. He did want everything to be finished as quickly as possible but his desire to stop his friend from getting any closer to Adrienne was much, much larger. They had a rapport that was too easy for Yoongi to fight against without revealing his 'innocent' crush or making it seem like he didn't like Adrienne which couldn't be further from the truth. It was childish and immature of him to basically call ‘dibs’ on her just because he saw her first but.... he had seen her first and just because he didn't want to risk his career by allowing himself to give into his temptations didn't mean that anyone else got to do so.

All of this went unnoticed by Adrienne who was trying to pull her laptop out of a bag she'd only just realised was way too small for it. Once she was done fighting with it, she exhaled and flipped the monitor upwards to allow it to boot up.

"Before you whine, I rearranged the hook on track 2," She said to Yoongi who immediately scrunched up his features and groaned but Andy held up a hand and continued speaking. "No whining! It sounds a lot better now, trust me."

"We spent two hours on that hook last night."

"I know, and it still didn't sound good, so I changed it. Just listen" Adrienne sighed and placed her headphones over Yoongi's ears then tapped the space bar on her keyboard. Yoongi's head nodded along to beat in silence, which Andy took as a pleasant sign since she knew he would be quick to complain if she had made the song worse.

"It's good," Yoongi replied simply as he handed Adrienne back the headphones.

"I know it is. You should trust me sometimes Yoongi, I know what I'm doing."

Yoongi shrugged and pretend to be nonplussed but Adrienne's lips spread into an arrogant lopsided smile that Yoongi hated to find so adorable. Headphones went over both of their heads and the two of them spent the rest of the ride reaching over one another to replay or 'fix' a certain part, silently arguing for the entire hour it took for them to reach the destination. By the time the van had rolled to a stop and everyone inside exited slowly, Adrienne and Yoongi had dissected every single second of their track and they still weren't any closer to being content with it. The squabble over whether to add the water droplet sound effect was being put on hold when Yoongi got out of the van and joined the rest of the boys rushing towards the venue where apparently everyone had already been waiting for them to show up. Adrienne recognised one of their managers as she trailed behind them, looking for a place to set up her laptop, but once he spotted the group approaching the neutral expression on his face soured.

"Where have you been?!" He exclaimed as he stormed towards them "Everyone here has been waiting for you to show up, do you know how much it cost for us to rent this space?"

Adrienne frowned, knowing that they were probably late because they had to come pick her up and then wait for her to get ready. She took a step forward and prepared to relay this information but a hand grabbing her wrist made her stop mid-step, Andy looked to her side and noticed Yoongi's quick head shake and the added pressure he put on her small wrist. She wasn't sure how he recognised that she was planning to say something or why he had stopped her but something about the way his eyes silently pleaded with her made her obey and remain silent. Instead, Namjoon took responsibility for them being late, stating a reason that used a few words Adrienne wasn't familiar with and he accompanied his apology with a deep 90-degree bow that all the boys mimicked. The manager huffed an exasperated sigh and pressed his thumb and index finger to the bridge of his nose.

"Just go get ready, enough time has been wasted already."

Before Adrienne got a chance to question Yoongi's action or ask Namjoon why he hadn't just told his manager the real reason for them being late, all seven of them spread out in different directions followed by the team of stylists and makeup artists in charge of dressing them for the shoot. That left Adrienne standing alone in the middle of the set looking lost and a little out of place, she quickly rectified that by searching for a familiar face from the BigHit staff or a table where she could set up her laptop and charge it; whichever came first.  Eventually, she found both a table with a socket nearby and someone to talk to; a stylist named Hye-Ji that Adrienne became acquainted with during her first week of official work. Once she had everything set up and ready to go Andy asked Hye-ji where she could find the dressing rooms, which earned her a playfully suspicious look but the stylist pointed in the general direction adding a faint “Try not to get caught,” behind her as she moved away. Adrienne planned on asking her what she possibly thought she would be caught doing but she left that where it was; all she wanted to do was apologise to Namjoon for having him take the blame for something she did before he got too busy to talk.

There were three different dressing rooms in the area that Hye-ji had pointed out and Adrienne lucked out with the first one being occupied by Jimin and Hoseok who were already fully dressed since she'd just barged in and completely forgotten to knock. She apologized profusely even though they were too busy laughing to actually notice her apologizing or leaving. At the next door she definitely remembered to knock on and sighed in relief when she heard Namjoon's deep voice answer.

"Namjoon, it's me. Are you dressed?"

A second of silence passed before the door cracked open and Namjoon smiled, revealing his exceptionally deep dimples as he stepped outside completely dressed in winter gear in the middle of the summer for some reason. 

"Something wrong?" He asked while closing the door behind him.

"No, I just wanted to apologise for earlier; you're manager chewing you guys out and everything. You didn't have to take the blame it was my fault you guys were late."

"We decided to come for you, so it wasn't really your fault and truthfully it doesn't really matter who's fault it actually was. I'm the leader which means I've gotta take responsibility regardless, so don't worry about it. We've made him angrier than that before." Namjoon garnished his reassurance with a smile that made Adrienne feel a bit better while she looked up at him.

"You're good a leader, Namjoon."

"Thanks" He replied before catching his manager's eye again, he should have been in the makeup chair already, "Uh, I've gotta go, you'll be around right?"

Adrienne nodded and waved as she watched the tall lanky boy run towards the makeup booth, quickly bowing to his manager again on his way. "Silly boy," Adrienne chuckled as she turned to walk in the opposite direction. She paused in front of the last dressing room since the door was still closed and she was fairly certain she knew who was still inside since she had already walked in on Jimin and Hoseok. Jin, Jungkook and Taehyung were already at the makeup booth. That left only Yoongi who apparently did not rush like the rest of them. After a second of debate, Adrienne knocked on the door and pressing an ear to the door.

"Yoongi-ssi?"

A grumbled string of words that vaguely sounded like 'come in' replied and Adrienne hesitated before opening the door and stepping inside. Then immediately regretting that decision once she was behind the closed door and less than a foot away from Yoongi who still was only half dressed. Andy's hand flew to cover her eyes before she squealed softly.

"I thought you said come in!" She asked, sounding slightly agitated.

"I did," Yoongi replied flatly.

"But you're not wearing a shirt,"

"So? Have you never seen a man shirtless before?" He asked and looked over towards Adrienne, slightly chuckling once he caught sight of her covering her face.

"Yes..." Andy said between her fingers as she separated them just slightly before dropping her hand entirely. He definitely was not the first man she'd seen without a shirt but Yoongi wasn't just some man, he was her coworker and somehow this felt... inappropriate. Was it inappropriate? Or was Adrienne just working herself up for no reason, there didn't have to be any reason for it to be improper if she wasn't attracted to him. That fact was becoming harder to deny as she shamelessly allowed her eyes roam over his exposed skin; he wasn't particularly muscular or defined but Adrienne just could bring herself to look away. That is until he moved forward and Adrienne remembered that he could see her ogling him though judging by the look on his face he didn't seem to care that much.

"Is there a reason you're here?"

"Yes! I wanted to apologise for being late, I didn't know how tight your schedule was,"

"Okay," Yoongi answered and took another step forward. There wasn't much space in the room as it was and the more he moved forward the harder it became for Adrienne to focus on what she wanted to say, she hadn't noticed his cologne before in the van but now with his bare skin being so close to her body Andy could easily inhale the scent and it was partially clouding her thoughts.

Why was he so close to her, anyway? 

"Is that all?" Yoongi asked while reaching forward to grab the shirt that was hanging on a hook above Adrienne's head.

She turned her head and quietly muttered the word 'oh' underneath her breath "Um, no I also wanted to ask you why stopped me earlier, it wasn't fair for Namjoon to take all the heat. I just wanted to set the record straight,"

Yoongi chuckled softly, well something between a scoff and a chuckle, as he pulled the shirt over his head and moved towards the seat on the other side of the room to put his shoes on.

"Namjoon is the leader, they would have made it his fault anyway, so taking the blame wouldn't have helped anything because Namjoon would just be asked why he couldn't keep better control of his team by making sure that everyone was ready on time." Yoongi tied his laces and Andy nodded softly "Besides, if I can be completely honest, he probably wouldn't have listened to you. You're new and some of the staff still don't even know your name so you stepping to the front would just have been seen as arrogant instead of helpful."

Yoongi stood up once his shoes were tied and moved towards the door again where Adrienne was still trying to make sense of his words. In some roundabout way, it sounded like he was trying to protect her but that train of thought opened an entirely new world of possibilities that Adrienne didn't want to explore.

"That's it right?"

Yoongi's question made Adrienne look up, and she startled herself when his face was just a few inches away from her own, well the lower half of his face anyway, the gentle half smile on his lips made Adrienne forget that he was trying to get out of the room and not flirting with her.

"Yeah.... that's all I had to say."

"Then can you move out of the way?"

Adrienne looked down at his hand on the door and her body pressed against it then quickly shuffled out of the way, muttering a soft "Sorry" as Yoongi exited the room and left her behind groan and mentally kick herself for coming in here in the first place. If anyone saw her there was no way they wouldn't get the wrong idea about her innocent intentions.

Adrienne may have been fretting about being misunderstood but on the other side of the door Yoongi was smug with pleasure, on the inside. He was still planning to keep his distance with Andy but there was nothing he could do about her coming to him. Sure, he didn't have to tell her to come in when he knew he wasn't fully dressed and there definitely was no reason for him to get so close to her when she could have easily just handed him the shirt but Yoongi enjoyed the way she reacted to him. It bolstered his ego and since there was no way he could outright flirt with her like Namjoon seemed so comfortable doing so he would have to settle for moments like this. They were good enough to sate his interest for now. The sound of one of the makeup artists calling for him to take a seat made Yoongi shuffle at a quicker pace but he was still trailing behind the rest of the group who were already done getting ready.

"You're moving so slowly today, hyung" Hoseok commented from the makeup chair next to his where he was waiting to be called for his solo shoot.

“I don't think I'm moving any slower than usual” Yoongi answered while the makeup artist dusted a powdery substance over his cheeks, he restrained himself from visibly grimacing. Makeup was always his least favorite part of this process.

Hoseok smirked and shook his head, swiveling the chair to face Yoongi's profile, “No you're definitely lagging, but the question is why?”

Yoongi didn't respond or even look to the side as Hoseok continued to goad him, he would not play along with whatever he was doing to ease his boredom.

"You can't be that tired since when you are you're usually the first one ready so you can nap while the rest of us are getting ready..." 

Yoongi remained stoic and Hoseok's scrutinising gaze became more pointed. "It's probably not your music either because you seem to trust Andy-noona with making decisions and you look.... happy not tired."

Yoongi sighed tossed his head back which made the makeup artist gasp and scold him for moving but Hoseok smiled like he was on the verge of discovering a prize and kept on pestering. 

"Which makes me wonder why she was looking for you earlier, she came to me and Jimin's dressing room thinking it was yours." 

Yoongi tensed just slightly but still refused to engage.

"I think she was looking for Namjoon too but I saw him come out of his dressing room and talk to her, I did not see you—"

"Hoseok."

Yoongi's one word made Hoseok stop mid-sentence and press a hand to his lips when Yoongi turned to face him (against the makeup artist's wishes again) he didn't glare or scowl at the younger male but the look on his face expressed how little he that he felt like playing games at that moment.

"Do you have something meaningful to say or do you just want to continue rambling bullshit and annoying me?"

His words might have been threatening to anyone else but Hoseok just took that as confirmation that he was hiding something he didn't want anyone to know. "I'll leave you alone as soon as you tell me what the deal is with you and Andy." Hoseok grinned. 

"There isn't one, bye."

"You don't expect me to believe that why was she in—"

"She came to apologise," Yoongi hissed in an annoyed whisper once the makeup artist cleared him to get up and leave, Hoseok trailed after him as he moved away from the makeup booth. "She wanted to say sorry for being late, there's no big secret."

"Oh. Well, why didn't she apologise to us? We got yelled at too!"

"I don't know maybe she doesn't like you." Yoongi shrugged.

Hoseok frowned and stopped walking for a few seconds "Hey... that's not funny we're friends. And that doesn't completely answer my question, her apologising wouldn't make you look happy..."

"You are so annoying, this is probably why she doesn't like you" Yoongi pointed out with a smug grin as he spun around to face Hoseok before walking off again.

"You're not funny hyung! Does she really not like me?" Hoseok called after Yoongi but he didn't answer.

It took three hours to get through the boys individual shots and another two to organise them for the group shots. Yoongi took every break he could to find Andy and continue their work but it was more than difficult for them to make any actual progress when he was pulled away to change his outfit or retouch his hair and makeup every five minutes. Adrienne didn't really mind, though. She enjoyed being able to admire the boys working and as far she was concerned they were done with both tracks. Whether she intended to or not she focused on Yoongi for most of the day, watching the way his expression changed when he was in front of the camera, even the way his body moved was different. He seemed to transform into a completely different person with each click of the camera shutter; he was confident masculine and actually sexy at certain points and Adrienne found herself hard pressed to look away even after being caught staring by both Yoongi and Hye-ji multiple times.

They completed the group photo-shoot in record time; two and half hours, and the crew immediately began setting up for the video shooting which really just meant getting rid of the backdrop and guiding the extras to their marks. That simple task presented a problem when apparently there weren't enough extras hired to fill in the gaps of the background, leaving spaces to be filled by whichever staff members were dressed nicely enough. Unfortunately for her, Adrienne never left her house unless she looked her best which meant she was one of the first plucked up from her seat and guided the video set. Despite her arguing that she didn't need to be there and that she would even cause a distraction, the director ignored her reasoning and countered that she would barely be seen in the back where they placed her, they only needed to fill a space.

The title track that Adrienne knew the boys would promote once the album was finished began playing and Andy followed along with the crowd and swayed back and forth to the beat. They were supposed to look like they were at a party so Adrienne did her best to follow direction but remain inconspicuous, a plan that failed once she saw Yoongi awkwardly shuffling in her direction and a few suspicious eyes turned to look at her.

"Is that how you dance?" She taunted once he was close enough, and he nodded and kept shifting his weight from one foot to another. 

"Sorry," Yoongi leaned over to say after a few seconds had passed. 

"For what?"

"I think I made you uncomfortable earlier, that wasn't my intention."

Adrienne nodded and smiled, biting down on her bottom lip out of habit, "Thank you, but that's not necessary I wasn't uncomfortable just... surprised."

She smiled at him so keenly and Yoongi found himself so entranced by her expression that he almost missed his cue to join the group dance, something that may not have been picked up by anyone else but it definitely did not go unnoticed by choreography leader Jung Hoseok. It took another 10 identical takes for the director to be satisfied with what he captured and Adrienne silently praised the heavens when they could finally leave. Everyone was back into the clothes they arrived in and ready to leave within in minutes, save for Adrienne who had been waiting by the van since they left to get undressed. It felt like it took twice as long to drive back to the studio than before and once they arrived the look on everyone's face read that they would rather be anywhere else than here. But, the boys had to practice and Adrienne and Yoongi had songs to produce. 

A loud and guttural moan left Adrienne's lips once she was walking through the doorframe of the Bangtan room and throwing her body onto the couch. Followed by Yoongi who was quiet as he settled down into the office chair in front of the console. 

"I don't know how you do this every day," Adrienne commented with her face still smothered in the couch.

"You become numb to it after a while... complaining doesn't help so why bother?"

Andy rolled her eyes and sat up to make faces at the back of his head, tossing her backpack on the seat next to her. Yoongi was already opening programs on the computer and could see her in the reflection of the glass monitor but ignored her until she stopped pulling faces and ended up just staring like she had been for most of the day.

"What's wrong with you?" Yoongi commented with his head still turned away from Andy.

"What are you talking about?"

"You've been staring at me all day."

"No, I have-" Adrienne began to lie but him turning around to glare gave her pause, "I didn't think you would notice."

"You didn't think I'd notice your big brown eyes looking at me all day?"

She smirked slightly at his choice of words but shook her head from side to side.

"No? I was just trying to figure something out."

"Figure what out?"

"My sister asked me if you were cute and I didn't have an answer for her so today I was trying to figure it out."

"Hm." Yoongi replied and turned back around as if that answer was completely reasonable. "Did you come to a conclusion?"

"About you being cute? I don't know.... I mean Jungkook is cute, Jimin is cute but you aren’t really like them."

"Thank you" He replied, making Adrienne laugh.

"The results of my study today were inconclusive but if I ever figure it out, you'll be the first to know. I did figure out something else today."

"What?"

"You're short."

"I'm taller than you!"

"I'm like 158 cm, Yoongi, are you really proud of that?"

Adrienne grinned and Yoongi did nothing to conceal the gum revealing grin that spread across his lips, "Whatever."

"I also just remembered I haven't asked my question of the day yet."

Yoongi made a grunting noise for her to go ahead but Adrienne was stuck.

"Erm, I haven't thought of one yet. You go first."

He exhaled but did as she asked anyway, "What is your favourite BTS song?"

"Seriously? Any question and you want to know that?"

"You don't have to answer."

"No, I do! Those are the rules, it's just a lame question," Andy snickered "Right now I have two; 'Just One Day' and 'Move', it's weird because your kind of the reason they're my favourites."

"What do you mean?"

"When I first started researching all your music, I didn't understand it so I just listened to whatever sounded good, but now I can understand most of what you guys are saying and your verses on Just One Day and Move are....... poetry. Like, the production and whatever are great but it's your words that really make the song what it is for me, you have this way of precisely capturing the subject of a song and putting it all in your verse. Especially Just One Day, when I read the lyrics for that I seriously had heart palpitations it's so good. I want someone to feel that way about spending the day with me." 

Adrienne rounded off her explanation with a momentary burst of laughter and her hands pressed tightly to her heart but Yoongi was left slightly stunned. He always enjoyed being complimented for his work but no one had every really explained what they liked about his music quite the same way she just had. It seemed ridiculous to say but hearing her talk so deeply made his heart melt.

Yoongi's eyes softened as he turned to around to look at Adrienne, not because he wanted to cry but because her words genuinely moved him.

"I think I know what my question is n- are you alright?" Adrienne asked when she looked up and met his eye line.

"I'm fine," Yoongi answered quickly and rubbed a hand down the length of his face, "What do you want to know?"

"Look who's suddenly eager for my questions now that he's been complimented!" She teased "I want to know what your favourite part of making music is."

"Ah, that's easy. When it's done."

"That's such a boring answer, I gave you an analysis."

"I don't mean when I literally finish a song and hand it over, I mean when everything is done, and it's released to the public. There have always been so many people in my ear telling me that I shouldn't be doing this or that I should have pursued some other career so when I finish a song and release it and I can visibly see that so many people all over the world are enjoying something that I made... It gives me a reason to keep doing this and prove anyone that's ever doubted me wrong."

"Wow," Adrienne sighed and leaned back into the couch "So basically you want your entire career to be one giant 'fuck you' to the haters? Nice." 

Yoongi nodded and swiveled around in his seat once again, allowing Adrienne to smile as wide as she wanted without feeling embarrassed by him watching her. He was opening up to her, slowly, but it was happening and that's all that mattered. It felt like they were genuinely becoming friends and that made Adrienne happy because that was all she wanted from the beginning. Of course, her definition of friendship didn't include wanted to see him shirtless again, but that was an issue she would deal with some other day.

"I think I’m going to go home now," Adrienne said behind a yawn as she stood to her feet.

"But we haven't rechecked the music."

"I trust you, and I think both of the songs are good enough to be sent in. If you want to change something, then you can I'm giving you the authority, try not to work too hard," She stated while she stood behind him and rubbed his shoulders with both her hands, then absentmindedly smoothed them down over his biceps before she could stop herself. The sudden contact and proximity made Yoongi shudder in a way that was not missed by Adrienne but neither of them brought any attention to that or the change in the air between them. Yoongi craned his head to look up at Andy over his shoulder and Adrienne's hands were still gently gripping his biceps when a knock on the door broke their momentary gaze.

Jungkook, Jimin and Taehyung were stumbling inside, massaging their muscles and complaining about the recent additions to the choreography and Adrienne took the chance to slip out as quickly as she could after saying goodnight to all of them.

Yoongi hardly listened to what his younger members were saying because his mind was still focused on how good Adrienne's small hands felt against his skin. If nobody had walked in at that moment he was sure he would have kissed her and that just wasn't the kind of thing coworkers did. Although Yoongi honestly thought he had the self-control to keep himself from desiring anything other than a professional relationship with Adrienne, he was proving more and more every day that that may not be possible.

What scared him most of all was that he was beginning not to care.

[pitviperofdoom]

Have some more AA dӕmons! Kudos to you if you can guess what Miles’ dӕmon is.

---

“You look nervous,” Maya remarks in the defendant’s lobby. “Should I be nervous, too?”

“What, nervous? Nah. I’ve got this handled.” It’s a little bit honest and a little bit not; he has a few angles he can maybe work, depending on how—how the prosecution decides to play things. He’s a little less blind than he was going into Larry’s trial. Things can only improve from here.

Never mind that he had Mia with him then, standing there behind the bench as a lifeline. Never mind that he has no assistance, no co-council, no one but his dӕmon at his side, and she’s just as uncertain as he is. Never mind the prosecutor that they’re up against.

It feels as if his heart dips into his stomach. Miles. They’re going to see Miles and—

Edgeworth, he corrects himself. Prosecutor Edgeworth. And if no one knows we’ve met, then I shouldn’t know his dӕmon’s name.

When the time comes, they file into the courtroom. Maya and her dӕmon—Zechariah, as they’ve learned—take their place near the bailiff. Phoenix focuses on the defense’s bench and nothing else until he finally reaches it. Once he’s there and there’s no more excuse not to, he turns—

He’s imagined this day for four years now, ever since he made the jump to law school. It’s surreal to finally be here, and so soon. He's still fresh out of the bar exam, the ink is barely dry on his diploma, and there is Miles Edgeworth, the Demon Prosecutor, looking at him coolly from the opposite end of the courtroom.

His old friend turns away to organize a few papers, probably documented evidence, and Phoenix’s eyes are drawn to his dӕmon instead. The last time he saw her, she was still changing shape.

Pictures in articles don’t do her justice. She looks like a cat in all of them, just a normal house cat at Miles—at Edgeworth’s feet. But now, Phoenix looks at her and genuinely can’t tell.

Seated on the smooth wooden surface, Edgeworth’s dӕmon watches Phoenix with cool, almost regal disdain. He wonders if she’s some kind of wild cat from Africa or South America, because she’s tall and long-bodied with golden spotted fur, like something that stepped off the savannah and into the courtroom. Phoenix feels like he’s taking a stare-down from a sphinx.

Beside him, Dawn’s stance is a bit clumsier. She’s too short to see over the bench comfortably but too big to sit on it the way Edgeworth’s dӕmon is doing, so instead she’s on her hind legs with her paws up on the bench so that she can watch the proceedings from a decent angle. It probably looks ridiculous to the people in the gallery behind them, but Phoenix can’t bring himself to care about their opinion right now.

He sees when their dӕmons’ eyes meet, even feels the jolt through his bond with Dawn. The held gaze only lasts a moment before Edgeworth’s dӕmon looks away. It’s not submission; Phoenix follows her gaze straight to where Maya Fey is standing.

Phoenix is almost distracted enough to miss the judge’s words, but Edgeworth jars him from his thoughts with nothing but his voice. “The prosecution is ready, Your Honor.” His dӕmon watches Maya Fey and her raven like she’s ready to pounce.

He swallows hard, and curls his fingers into Dawn’s fur.

“The defense is ready, Your Honor.”

(He’s not.)

***

Phoenix is half in a daze when he staggers out of the courtroom. There was no last-minute catch that could prove Maya’s innocence in a day, like he did for Larry. At the very least he won her a reprieve, and himself h one extra day to find more evidence. For now, they have a few minutes in the defendant’s lobby before Maya is taken back to detention. She watches him with stars in her eyes, and if he didn’t know better he would easily mistake her for a normal teenager.

“You were incredible,” she says. “Is this what your courts are always like? Mia explained how they worked, and she said it was exciting sometimes, but that—it was like a battle, but with words thrown instead of spells and arrows!”

“It—I wasn’t—” Phoenix splutters. Next to him, Dawn prances a little from foot to foot at the praise. “I mean! I did tell you I’d prove your innocence. Which I… sort of haven’t done yet. I couldn’t get enough information in time.”

She grins at him, dimpling. “Is that supposed to impress me less? You went into it unarmed and you still held your own! Is there anything more I can do to help you?”

“Not unless you’ve remembered anything else?”

Her enthusiasm deflates, just a little. “No,” she admits. “And I’m trying, believe me! I’ve been going over everything from even two weeks back, but I can’t think of anything that might help. Mia was… secretive. I got the feeling that she didn’t want me too closely involved in what she was doing. Sometimes she would ask me to hold things for her, like she was going to do with that clock. But she hardly ever told me why.”

She looks so dejected that Phoenix regrets asking. “It’s alright,” he assures her. “I have some leads. One or two, but they’re good. Worst case scenario, I can delay sentencing one more day. But Edgeworth is… tough.” Frustration bubbles up, threatening to overflow. “He’s got a reputation for always getting the guilty verdict, and…”

“We weren’t expecting to face them so soon,” Dawn admits.

Zechariah shifts his weight on Maya’s shoulder and makes a soft, thoughtful noise. “She has the look of a hunter,” he says. “She never took her eyes off of us for the entire trial.”

“She—oh, you mean his dӕmon,” Phoenix says.

Maya looks thoughtful. “She had an interesting shape,” she says. “A cat, but not the kind of cat I usually see in humans. She almost looked like one of those African wildcats. A cheetah? No, she was too small for that. Maybe a serval, or a caracal?”

“Caracals don’t have spots,” says  Zechariah. “And servals have shorter tails, don’t they?”

“Right, right.”

“She was a little small, too.”

Suddenly, Phoenix’s throat feels altogether too tight. A memory is dragged to the front of his mind, only two days old, of standing in this very lobby and listening to Mia talk about Dawn’s shape.

“Do you guys know a lot about dӕmons?” Dawn asks.

“Sort of.” Maya smiles again. “They’re so interesting! You can tell so much about a person by the shape of their dӕmon! And human dӕmons come in so many different types, mammals and reptiles and insects and amphibians and even fish, of all things! Can you imagine having your dӕmon settle as a fish?”

“I’ve… never really thought about it?”

“Though, some people don’t seem to appreciate it when we ask questions…” Maya frowns, cheeks puffing slightly as if she’s remembering an embarrassing moment.

Phoenix is about to reply when the past crashes over him in an ice-cold wave.

It’s not just two-day-old memories anymore. For a split second he’s nine again, he’s a shy skinny fourth-grader with band-aids on his elbows, and if he looks over his shoulder he’ll see his friend standing there, he’ll see Dawn shifting shape again, tackling another dӕmon her size in rough-and-tumble play—

The moment passes, but the feeling of desperate longing stays. It’s not his, he realizes; he’s feeling it from Dawn.

A painful tug in his chest makes him turn around. His dӕmon is moving away, ears pricked toward something he can’t see as she steps toward the limits of their bond. Phoenix leaves Maya’s side and catches a handful of the fur on the scruff of his dӕmon’s neck. “Dawnie, where are you going—?”

She startles in his grip. “I—” She hesitates, looking back at him and then forward again, to the hallway that leads around to the other courtrooms. “I—she was there, Phoenix, I just saw her.”

“Dawn—”

“I mean, I didn’t see her, but I smelled her, and—I didn’t notice in the courtroom, but Phoenix, she smells the same, it was exactly the same as before, I just know it, I’d know her anywhere—” “Dawnie, so what if you did?” he mutters to her. She’s still pulling slightly against his grip. “We’re still in the courthouse and she’s a prosecutor’s dӕmon, she’s probably walked all over these halls. Of course you smelled her.”

“I just…” Dawn whines plaintively. “I could’ve sworn she was there.”

It twists at his heart to hear her talk like that. She’s not saying anything he doesn’t already feel. But… “We’ll see them again tomorrow, remember? The trial’s not over. Just—hold it together, okay?”

“It’s not the same.” Dawn still watches the corridor, tail drooping down and around until the tip of it curls between her hind legs. “They’re so far away, Phoenix.”

“I know,” he says. “I know, okay? We’ll reach them. But we knew it was gonna take time. We’re ahead of schedule, if you think about it. We never thought we’d see them again this fast.”

“I wish it was faster,” his dӕmon whispers.

“Yeah,” he says. “Me too. C’mon, you’re making Maya worried.”

At this, she shakes herself and turns her back on the far hallway. She doesn’t want to, but he’s right; Maya’s watching them with a curious look on her face, like she’s trying to put together a picture and figure out if she has all the pieces at the same time.

“Sorry about that,” Phoenix says. “But anyway—this is good. I got us another day, and a few things to look into.”

Maya nods. “Mia was right,” she says.

That catches him off guard. “A-about what?”

She smiles at him, bright with hope. “You have the soul of a protector.”

***

“What kept you?” Miles asks, when she finally catches up to him.

“Nothing much. Just satisfying some curiosity.”

“What could you possibly be curious about?”

Her ears flick backward in annoyance. “You know what.” Infuriatingly, he pretends not to know what she’s talking about. “She almost saw me.”

Miles refuses to rise to the bait. “Lovely. Perhaps their situational awareness has improved in the last however many years.”

“Fifteen,” she says, as if he doesn’t know perfectly well how many.

He sighs. “Is there a point you’re trying to make?”

“I suppose not. It’s just… odd, seeing them here.” She pauses, twitching the tip of her tail. “I mean, who would have thought?”

“Wright’s career choices have nothing to do with us, so I don’t see any point in speculating.”

To her relief, he means it. The thoughts and worries that he pushes away always end up plaguing her. At the moment, however, Phoenix Wright is a low-level concern at best.

“He employs Mia Fey’s tactics,” she says after a moment. “And not as well as she did, either. Tomorrow shouldn’t be hard to get through.”

“Obviously.” He sighs, more irritated than anything else. “The sooner this is over, the better.”

It feels so desperately wrong, seeing them there. The defense’s bench is the last place Phoenix Wright and his dӕmon belong. Perhaps, by soundly defeating them tomorrow, they’ll knock some sense into their heads.

But it makes no difference in the end. Their only goal is the guilty verdict, no matter who happens to be standing in their way.

[tmntxreader-fics]

TMNT Raphael x Reader: A Damaged Love

Request: 

@skywolf42   Ooh I have prompt for you!! RaphaelxReader where the Reader character gets in an argument with Raphael and flinches and freezes up at some point when he gets mad. Raph is immediately guilty that he's done something to make the Reader think he'd ever hit them, not understanding at first that it was a subconscious response due to physical abuse at the hands of a masculine figure at some point in the Reader's life. 

I took a different take on this, and added some 2007 Raph elements to it. Made it a little bit darker. Raph goes a little too far. 

WARNINGS: Cussing (as usual), mention of physical abuse, angst, and typos because I’m a dumb bitch. Violent anger. ANGRY RAPH. like, Unreasonable 2007 Raph angry. 

Fem Reader this time around.

‘Every couple squabbles.’

 At least, that’s what they say. That’s what you had told yourself when you were ignoring the ringing in your ears.

They say that ‘the arguments make the relationship stronger, make them healthier.’ With delicious irony, you remember repeating that one beneath your breath quite regularly; especially the nights when your purple jaw ached. 

‘Now that everything has been spilled into the air, you can both work on coming to a compromise together.’ On the contrary, you discovered that attempting to “compromise” simply resulted in a doomed-to-be-overdue hospital bill.

Now, on your second attempt at playing a role within a relationship, you realize that the first point was correct; every couple does squabble. Or, as you have found to be more accurate, they go to war. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” 

With a tragic spark of displaced humor, you consider the fact that this is the first time you have heard Raphael direct those words at you, rather than his enemies. Venturing further into your morbid curiosity, you wonder if, perhaps at this moment, you are his enemy. 

You suppose that you should have seen the burst of volume coming, really. It was bound to arrive between both of your voices rising in a steady crescendo. The predictability of the explosion was evident, so you’re unsure as to why it had shocked you so intensely. 

Maybe it was the words in which he had spoken, or perhaps, the way he had so aggressively pointed his finger towards you; accompanied by a menacing step. 

“Excuse me?” Your tone is the perfect picture of aggravated bewilderment. Now you understand how people could be so taken aback that they question the reliability of their hearing. “What did you just say to me?” 

“What, are you deaf? You heard me,” Raphael snarls, pacing from side to side as if he were a caged animal. Maybe he is, you muse. Perhaps he holds a barely contained animalistic anger; simmering beneath that rough, viridescent skin. Something that not even the Mutagen could evolve; or possibly, it’s responsible for encouraging the aggression. 

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” Your voice is ripped from your lips in a bellow, your anger almost tangible. “What makes you think that you can talk to me like that?”

“You think you’re fuckin’ special?” he sneers, the simple sentence acting like a spear to your chest. The terrapin spins on his heels to face you, raising his finger once again to point at you accusingly. “You think that just ‘cos you’re my girlfriend, that means I can’t get mad at ya?” 

Your jaw drops in indignant disbelief, “there’s mad and then there’s this!” 

“You started this!” He growls, inhaling sharply in a poor attempt to maintain composure, “I didn’t fuckin’ come for you, you provoked me!”

Taking a step back from his overbearing presence, you return his words with a humourless snicker, “of course, it’s my fault.” 

“Yeah, it is,” Raphael snaps, eyes boring holes into your own; as if he were praying that looks could kill. Your stomach churns, clearly understanding the intent behind that gaze. 

“Of course it is! When have you ever taken responsibility for your own fuck-ups?” The words leave your lips before you can help yourself. You know instantly that you’ve just poured fuel over an already flaming fire. You could almost see the uncontrollable rage spread from his chest throughout his body. 

Still, despite the signs, you’re unable to prevent yourself from stumbling backward when the wooden table explodes into splintered pieces beneath his fist. You’ve fallen uncomfortably into the bench, tripping on the heel of your own shoe in your desperate attempt to gain space between you and the destructive beast on the other side of the room. Despite the blatant fear your new position exclaims, leaning back against the support of a metal structure with fingers that grip the edges for comfort, you cannot bring yourself to move. 

You try to stand to your feet and straighten up before he can turn around and see you. Before he can witness the power his anger has over you, the humiliating way you cower from his explosive outburst. Your body barely budges an inch at your mental commands and you remain frozen to your place.

Habit is not easily broken, your body reminds you. 

You know, logically, that Raphael would never hurt you. But, as much as you’d like to trust yourself, your logic has led you seriously wrong before. Your fiery nature has only brought you to once conclusion in your relationships, and they started off just like this. Just once. Just one fight. Just one blow. Then it never stopped. 

All is quiet, except for the heavy breathing that fills the room. Distantly, you remember that Mikey had carved that table himself as a kid; it was lopsided and ugly but he had made that. It was a piece of their childhood, a fond memory- and Raphael had just obliterated it without a second thought. 

You stand torn, staying put leaves you in the ‘danger zone’ and leaving the room is basically a flashing neon sign screaming ‘weakness’. You had promised yourself to grow stronger in the face of the opposition, to challenge and at the first sign of violence, to leave. 

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” His voice is hoarse; breaking the silence so suddenly that you jump a little. His shell is turned to you, though you can tell that he is hunched over a little; shoulders heaving with the weight of your words. 

“I asked you the same question and you didn’t answer,” the reply leaves your lips as a rasp. The longer you dwell on the thought of Mikey’s face when he sees the damage the stronger your resentment towards Raphael becomes. You find that you want to grind your teeth until there’s nothing left but small shards of bone; you want to clutch his world in your hands and burn it to ashes. With the rage rushing through your blood you find the energy to at least stand and somewhat straighten your stance. You’ve never felt such unfathomable wrath towards somebody that you genuinely love, even against those of whom you had thought you loved. 

Perhaps, it’s because you love him and you know it’s mutual that it hurts to see the relationship take a tragically familiar path. Is this the inevitable truth of love? Is it simply a means to an end? Could it be that love is so desired that they hide the horrors of it behind a quaint picture, and collectively everyone drinks it in like a sweet cocktail of poison. They thirst for it because they think that the high is worth the consequences, that the repercussions of love are the lesser of two evils- the other being loneliness.  

“You want me to answer your question?” His voice interrupts your train of thought. Turning your gaze to your partner’s hulkish figure you can’t help but shiver when he straightens up, shell still shielding him from your observation. “I’ll tell you exactly who I am.” 

Your heart leaps into your throat when Raphael turns, his eyes narrowed and blazing with a heat that make your instincts scream at you to run. 

One step. 

“I’m Raphael,” he begins. 

Two steps. 

“Now, see, I got a bad, bad, temper.” 

Three steps. 

“But I’m the best at what I do; putting a fist through someone’s jaw is how I get off.” 

Four steps. He’s halfway across the room now. 

“Now, I got a girlfriend. She talks big for someone who’s half my size.” 

Five steps. You stomach lurches and you can’t help but lean back into the metal bench once more. 

“She reminds me of my brother, can’t stop themselves from tryin’ to dictate my life, correct me at every turn,” his teeth are gritted now, words ground out rather than said. “Of course, they call it guidance.” 

Six steps. Too close. 

“Kinda funny that my girlfriends joined in when you think about the fact that I’m ten times as strong as her.” 

“Raph,” you whisper. Your heart sinks, you know where this is going. You had held out hope that it would never come to this, perhaps you’ve pushed him too far. Maybe this is your fault. 

Ignoring your voice, he takes another step forward. Seven. 

“Faster than her.” 

“Please,” you rasp, gripping the metal beside you in an attempt to not curl up. 

“Bigger than her.” 

Eight. 

He’s in front of you now, his body towering over your trembling self. You can barely breath, your eyes fixated on the fists that are balled at his sides. If it’s coming you might as well make the most of it. 

“What do you want from me?” You burst, voice breaking mid sentence. “What do you want me to say?” 

“I want you to support me!” He snaps. You can feel his breath brushing the top of your head and you lips tremble at the volume of his voice. Don’t break, stay strong. “Why is this so fuckin’ hard for you’s to understand. I don’t want authority I want a partner!”

“Why is it so hard for you to understand that partnership is about guiding someone through their flaws and encouraging them with their strengths,” you whisper shakily. Finally you turn your eyes up to meet his hard expression, watching the way he observes the wateriness of your gaze. “You’re so insecure that you can pinpoint everyone else’s problems but the second yours are addressed you think you’re being attacked and dominated.” 

“Insecure?” 

Perhaps, that was not the best word to throw around when you’re trapped between a metal bench and a 6′5, 340lb angry turtle. 

“I’m insecure? Look who’s talking!” His laugh is a humorless roar and you flinch beneath him.

“I don’t intimidate the people I love to hide my insecurities,” you snap back, gesturing to his aggressive posture. 

“Being intimidating is the only way to shut you’s up! There’s no other way to get you to back off!” He exclaims, throwing his hands up in disbelief. Your stomach clenches, shoulders flinching upwards to your jaw at the sudden movement. 

"What are you a caveman?” You cry, poking your finger into his plastron and straightening your posture in an attempt to cover your previous reaction. Be strong. “Use. Your. Words. Be honest! Be open! No one is gonna understand where the line is if you explode the second we open our mouths. Communicate through your words, your touch, your actions!” 

Your heart is pounding in your chest and you realise instantly that your courageous facade is permanently over when you catch his eyes. The sheer fury. Your body begins to tremble harder than it has in so long, the adrenaline rushing through your body in an attempt to evoke a response. Run, your instincts scream, hide! 

“You want me to use my words?” He sneers, his voice so low you don’t expect the volume from his next sentence. “Then shut the fuck up.” 

He steps in so that your body is pressed between his and the metal digging into your back. Your hands immediately raise up to press against his chest. “Raph....” 

“You want me to use my touch?” His voice is a steady shout now, you distantly wonder whether the boys can hear his bellow from the streets. But you know the truth, that you’re alone. Left at his mercy. 

His hands grip your body by your shoulders and at the sound of your startled cry he lifts you up so that only your toes brush the ground. He shakes you, as if hoping that somehow he could scramble your mind and prevent you from conjuring anymore words. “Then let me shake some sense into ya.” 

Your first sob is overpowered by the roar of his voice, you don’t know if he’s even heard it. You feel as though you’re going to puke any second now and you can’t find your breath. There’s no air. Where’s the air? 

“You want me to use my actions?” He drops his grip on you and your body falls into the bench behind you. “Then here!” 

He leans in and your body is bent backwards over the table before his fists smash into the metal on either side of your body, undoubtedly denting it. 

With that, you break. 

Your body crumples to the floor beneath his feet, hands raised above your head in a feeble attempt to protect yourself. 

Not again. 

There’s a silence before his voice, ever so soft, violates the quiet. He says your name. He says it twice. 

Is this how it’s meant to be? 

He says it three times. 

Please, not again. 

Please. 

He doesn’t touch you, not yet. 

Please. 

Please.

He says your name again, this time his voice sounds as broken as you feel. 

Please. 

He’s apologising, the words sweet nothings lost to the air. The whispers caress your body, curling around your neck in a deceptively loving touch. The words stroke your cheek, touch your lips. 

He says your name again, so softly. So gentle. The hushed tones wait for you to look up, they’re coaxing you to unfurl. But you know; you know from experience that they beckon you so that they can look you in the eyes. So that they can watch you, adoration in their gaze. They want to see your face when they choke you with the very thing that you crave. 

Love.

This is love.