#but then the prosecution lawyer comes up to ask him some follow up questions and hes like

[jaded-ghoster]

missed chance in mha to show the trials and tribulations of the remedial course group just for Bakugo and Todoroki to immediately get charged with vigilantism because they decimated a guy just a few hours before the licensing paperwork was fully processed

[female-malice]

In the early morning hours of April 22, 2021 – Earth Day – nine women aged between 20 and 68 turned up at the Canary Wharf branch of HSBC carrying hammers and chisels. Wearing patches that read “better broken windows than broken promises”, they proceeded to smash the building’s windows, before sitting down on the pavement to await arrest. The Met were called at 7:10am, and before long all nine women were arrested on suspicion of causing criminal damage.

The nine were Jessica Agar, Blyth Brentnall, Valerie Brown, Gully Bujak, Miriam Instone, Tracey Mallaghan, Susan Reid, Samantha Smithson and Clare Farrell, co-founder of Extinction Rebellion (XR). As members of XR, they were taking action against HSBC pumping £80 billion into fossil fuels investments in the five years following the Paris Climate Agreement, going directly against the pledge to keep global temperature rise below 1.5 degrees.

Their trial started in October, with all nine pleading not guilty. Amazingly, Farrell let go of her lawyer, deciding to self-represent, writing and delivering the closing remarks in court herself. “It’s painful for me to be part of a society so immoral, so off track,  it is set to destroy the next generation, and billions of lives are likely to be lost on the current course, and my heart asks me to do the work which has the best chance of affecting a change of course,” she said to jurors. “Never before has there been such grave responsibility on a generation of people to succeed in such dire circumstances. It’s beyond serious – we have all the information and there is no room for failure, every day counts.”

On November 16, over two years since the HSBC protest, jurors found all nine women not guilty. Below, we speak to Farrell about the outcome of the trial, taking inspiration from the suffragettes, and the importance of faith within the climate justice movement.

During the trial, you decided to ultimately let go of lawyers and self-represent. How did you come to that decision?

Clare Farrell: Well, I kept a lawyer at the beginning and I delivered my defence with a lawyer asking me questions. But I sacked him – and I’ve sacked him before, so he doesn’t mind, it’s fine! – just before we went into the summing up, which is the closing part of the trial. I did that because I wanted to be able to address the jury again myself, and if you’re represented by a lawyer or a barrister, they have to do the summing up for you. As activists we do this work to speak truth, and I think some people find it quite difficult to be represented – they feel that they should be taking responsibility themselves, and they also feel they have a lot to say.

I saw that during the action against HSBC you wore patches which read ‘better broken windows than broken promises’, which is a phrase coined by the suffragettes. Do you think Extinction Rebellion and the suffragettes have much in common?

Clare Farrell: Yeah – well, I hope so! We were very inspired by the movements of the past when we set up XR, and the suffrage movement is obviously a relatively recent story of radical political success in this country’s history. Also, the Chartists broke windows before them, so I saw it as part of a tradition or lineage in British political life and history.

What’s also interesting for me is how present the suffrage movement felt in our trial because we had the colour scheme – the white, purple and green – and those patches. Those things were raised in the courtroom because they were there on the day, they were part of the action. So I felt greatly supported by the suffragettes in a strange kind of way while I was on trial.

You said in your speech that the prosecution didn’t dispute that the climate crisis is making the world “totally uninhabitable for hundreds of millions of people”. Was this a bit jarring for you, given that you were essentially on trial for trying to address the climate crisis issue?

Clare Farrell: I think this is what’s really difficult about the way that these trials are happening in the court system at the moment. Because the judge said very clearly, this is not a case about the climate crisis; they said this is going to be a case about the defences that are available through the Criminal Damage Act. Did they do the damage? If yes, have they got an excuse? If they can convince you they had a lawful excuse under this little thing called ‘belief in consent’, you can let them off. If they can’t, then they’re guilty.

You’re trying to speak to a bigger picture, which is being somewhat described as irrelevant by the court system, but obviously, it is the entire point of what we’re talking about. So there’s a real paradox at play. We were very lucky, because the judge let us make arguments based on two other defences, which included ‘necessity’, which is when an action is to prevent death and serious injury, and ‘protection of property’, the idea being I was damaging some property to protect some other property. And then there was ‘belief in consent’. So when we gave our evidence, we had to speak to all of those three defences. Then at the end, he took two of them off the table, but a lot of people don’t get given that room to talk.

There’s another trial coming up in February, for other people who broke windows. They have a different judge, and it’s actually a judge who has put people in prison before for talking about climate change to a jury. So if he deems it irrelevant, those people could have a completely different experience, even though they’ve basically done the same thing, but on a different day at a different bank.

It shows us that when the jury has a chance to hear what you have to say, they understand the seriousness and the efficacy of this kind of action when you’re in an emergency. If they’re not allowed to hear any of that, then it’s very easy for a judge to say, ‘well, look, that’s them on the video, they broke the window, it wasn’t legal, you just have to find them guilty’. And then that’s that. So it really depends on the day that you get arrested, the day that your court gets listed, which judge it is, which police officers are there, which prosecution barristers you’ve got, which jurors you’ve got… the whole system is very unpredictable.

How did you feel when you heard that you were found not guilty?

Clare Farrell: I just cried. I was grabbing hold of the desk, gripping the table. And I cried. I’ve never been through anything like it in my life. The whole process of the trial was just so hard on [my] soul and body and everything. It’s physically hard, it’s emotionally hard, and it’s kind of made worse by the fact that it’s so fucking boring, because most of the time nothing is happening.

Also, you can’t tell from looking at a jury what they’re going to do. You spend weeks looking at these people from across the room and thinking, ‘I really hope you like me’! On the day when the verdict came, it was remarkable that they were only out for two hours. That’s not very long, because they had to decide on nine defendants so they’d have had to discuss each person individually, at least a little bit. So they must have really been pretty sure about what they wanted to do. The person who read out names and said ‘not guilty’ seemed very pleased to say it, to put it like that! And there was one juror who was leaning back in his chair with his arms folded and grinning, because he was obviously really happy to let us off.

What would you say to critics of Extinction Rebellion, who are maybe more sceptical and don’t believe that radical action can result in progress? Or maybe don’t believe that there’s a climate issue at all?

Clare Farrell: I would hope that our trial has shown where ordinary people’s heads are at. It proves that the reality we live in – in terms of what’s being done at a corporate level, and what’s being done at a government level, and the rhetoric of Rishi Sunak – I hope that this is just proof that all of that is completely out of step with the general public. The general public don’t want their kids to die. They don’t want to live in a world that collapses. More and more people realise that that is precisely what is gonna happen. And they don’t want it!

I think there’s something to be said for these kinds of actions which can be an awakening for people. People are always complaining about tactics, saying people don’t like being disrupted or they don’t like what you’re doing because it’s annoying – but if you can see that someone’s in mortal danger, it’s very normal to want to tell them. I think it’s also proof that when people spend the time having an in-depth conversation about what’s taking place, there’s no question in people’s minds about what is the right thing to do. I hope so, anyway.

I hope so too. Those are actually all the questions that I had, but is there anything else that you’d like to add?

Clare Farrell: One thing which is on my mind a lot at the moment has to do with faith. I’m not a religious person, but my reflections since the trial have been quite a lot about how faith exists for me and also how it seems to be very lacking in our wider society in Britain. We live in a materialist, cynical context, which is enormously problematic because I’ve spoken to a lot of people over the last six years who’ve said to me, ‘it’s nice for you to try, but realistically, you’re never going to win – it’s too big, it’s too difficult, the power is too entrenched’. I feel like one of the key requirements for us is to find a sense of faith and in that understanding ourselves to be part of a greater whole, and not just discreet little beings that are separate from one another.

I feel really extremely lucky to have had an experience like this where we were able to win a trial and go home and think, ‘oh, right, what do I do now?’, because I thought I was gonna be in prison for Christmas. What do we do with our freedom?

The HSBC 9 are crowdfunding to cover their remaining legal costs and raise money for other activist groups’ legal costs. You can donate here. You can also read an open letter written in support of the HSBC 9 here.

[mushrubes]

12 | Time

I was made for lovin’ you

Prev | Home | Next

Pairing : Eddie Munson x (they/them) Henderson! reader

Summary : The girls and Y/n persuade Dr Hatch to allow them to visit Victor while Max does some last minute visits, unsure of her time left.

Word count : 1.8k

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

Max sighed, folding the paper up and putting it inside the envelope, closing it and flipping it over writing 'Billy' across it. She turned her head, slightly looking at the group behind here. "I know you guys are staring at me." She exposed, all of them moving and pretending to do something else. "What, sorry? Just hanging out." Steve said picking up the ball and tossing it in the air, catching it. "You said you needed something?" Lucas pretended, looking up from the pages in his hand. 

"How you think your eyes boring into the back of my head is protecting me from Vecna, I don't know." she huffed, stacking the envelopes in her hand and getting up, walking over to them. "For you and y/n, for you, and, um, you. Oh, and, um, give these to Mike, El and Will. If you can ever get a hold of them again." Max said, giving the envelopes out apart from the one she clung on to. Dustin looked down at his, starting to open it. "Hey, what are you doing? No, don't. That's not for now, don't open it now." Max stopped, holding a hand out in front of him. "Don't...okay." Dustin repeated, fiddling with both the unopened envelopes in his hands.

"I'm sorry, what is this?" Dustin asked, flipping it back and forth in his hands. Max grimaced and looked at the ground. "It's, um...it's a fail-safe. For after, if things don't work out." Max stammered, her breath hitching. "Wait, woah. Max, things are gonna work out." Lucas assured, Max cutting him off. "No! No, I don't need you to reassure me right now, and tell me it's all gonna work out, because people have been telling me that my entire life and it's almost never true. It's never true. I mean, of course this asshole curses me. Should've seen that one coming." she commented, looking around and walking over to the table where the walkie-talkie sat. "If we go to East Hawkins, will this still reach Pennhurst?" Max questioned, Dustin nodding and assuring her. "Why are we talking about East Hawkins? No, no, no!" Steve huffed, all of the younger teens looking at him.

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

"Max, Max, seriously. Seriously, I'm not joking, I'm not driving you anywhere." Steve huffed, looking at the red head and jogging up to her. "Steve, if you think I'm going to spend what is likely the last day of my life, in the armpit that is Mike Wheeler's basement, then you're out of your mind. So, either take me where I need to go or you're gonna have to tie me down, which is technically kidnapping of a minor. And if I live to see another day, Steve. I swear to God, I will prosecute." she argued, pulling on the car door and looking back up as it didn't open.  "Open the door." she demanded, Steve shaking his head. "I know a good lawyer." She reminded, Steve looking at her in disbelief before scoffing and unlocking the car. "Henderson, that super walkie of yours better reach Pennhurst." he grumbled, getting into the car, Max turning around as she heard the chimes in her ears again, before getting in.

Robin stumbled in her heels, ankles rolling and slightly relying on Y/n who was lending her and arm to help her balance. "I can't breathe in this thing, and I'm itchy. I'm itching all over." Robin complained, Nancy sighing and Y/n looking over in sympathy. "It's not all about comfort, we're academics who are evidently coming straight from Easter Brunch." Y/n recalled, trying to help ease the tension. "Also, this bra, that you gave me is really pinching my boobs." Robin admitted, Y/n holding in a laugh. "Okay, could you just let me, and y/n do the talking? if that's even possible." Nancy snapped, Robin rolling her eyes at her outbreak. "It's not only possible, it's inevitable because shortly, I'll be dead from strangulation." Robin exaggerated following behind. 

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

"3.9 GPAs. All of you. Impressive." Dr Hatch read, placing the folder down and looking back at them. "And this is a recommendation from Professor Brantley." Nancy lied, passing it over to him. "Yes, I know Larry. Quite well, actually. Eh, you know what they say. 'Those who can't do, teach.'" he laughed, the three of them fake laughing along with him. "Uh, yes, yes, that's actually why we're here. I mean, we can only learn so much in a classroom." Nancy added, him nodding along. 

"And I'm sympathetic to your struggle, truly. But there is a protocol to visiting a patient like Victor. You have to put in a request. and then you have to undergo a screening process, at which point the board will make a decision. I can see you're disappointed. But I'm more than happy to give you a tour of our facility. Perhaps, you can even speak to some patients in our low-security wing." he suggested, Nancy and Y/n smiling at each other knowingly. "And we'd...we would love that. It's just that, um...our thesis is due next month." Y/n lied, bracing themself for his response. 

"Then you're out of time. Whose fault is that?" he retaliated, Y/n biting their tongue from his tone. "Ours, absolutely. And I do apologise." Nancy said, Robin cutting her off making the pair of them look at her. “Don’t apologise, Ruth. Screw that. The fact is, we did put in a request months ago and were denied. And then we reapplied and were denied again. And coming here, was our last-ditch effort to save out thesis.  And I really...I can't breathe in this thing."  Robin huffed, starting to go off slightly. 

"Rose, maybe you'd like to go outside and get some fresh air" Y/n suggested, Robin nodding and getting up. "Maybe I should Riley, because I'm starting to think this whole thing is a colossal mistake. I'm breaking out in a rash, my boobs hurt, and I'll tell you the truth, Anthony. May I call you Anthony? These aren't actually my clothes. I borrowed them because I wanted you to take us seriously. Because nobody takes girls seriously in this field, they just don't. We don't look the part of whatever, but can I tell you a story? 1978, I was at summer camp and my counsellor Drew told me and everyone in cabin C the true story of the Victor Creel massacre. And little Petey McHew...you know Petey, right, Ruth?" she questioned, looking at Nancy who nodded, unsure of where this was going.

"Little Petey Mchew started sobbing right there on the spot. Full-on hyperventilating, the other campers couldn't sleep for weeks. And I couldn't either, but not 'cause I was scared. Because I was obsessed with the question, 'What would drive a human being to commit such unimaginable acts?' Other kids wanted to be astronauts, basketball players, rock stars. But I wanted to be you. I wanted to be you so, forgive me if I'll now try anything in my power, including wearing this ridiculous outfit. If I might get to speak to the man that ignited my passion and learn a little more about his twisted, but let's face it, totally fascinating mind works. So, yes, we don't have the official paperwork, but don't tell me that cry-baby Petey McHew wouldn't have gotten an audience with Victor in a matter of moments, if he'd asked politely, because you and I both know that he would. So, ten minutes with Victor. that's all I ask." she finished her rant with, looking at him dead in the eyes. 

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

"Alright this better be fast, Mayfield." Steve huffed, parking the car up and looking back at her. "Twenty seconds." she clarified, getting out and walking into her trailer, looking for her mum. "That things got batteries in it, right?" Steve asked, Dustin looking at him as if hie was crazy. "I'm not even answering that question. Yes, it has batteries." he answered back, Lucas shaking his head t Steve. Max placed a couple letters down on the table, all labelled with family member names, she took in her surroundings, taking a deep breath. "Mom." she called, running out the back, over to her. "Hey sweetie. I thought you were with your friends today." she asked, meeting Max halfway. "Yeah, I... I was. I am. Shouldn't you be at work?" she asked, confused as to why she was home. "Oh, Mr Bradley let me off early. So, I'm just catching up on some chores." she told her.

 "Um, I... I left some letters inside. For you, and for Granny, and uncle Jack. And dad. If you can find him." Max told her, her mother shaking her head, confused about the whole situation. "Letters? I... I don't understand." she said, Max stumbling on her words. thinking about how best to explain. "I just...um...with all the murders and everything, I... I know it's stupid, but I just started to think, 'what if something bad happens to me?'" she half lied, looking at her mother. "Max, baby, nothing is going to happen to you." she assured, Max shaking her head and getting agitated. "I know. But if...if it did, I just...there's so many things that I want to say, that I need to say. And... just promise you’ll give the letters out?" she pleaded, just wanting a yes in response. "Max, you're scaring me. Is something going on, Maxine? Is it, baby?" her mother persisted, Max giving up. 

"No, no. You're right, I'm sure I'll be fine, I'm being silly." she huffed, her mother pulling her in for a hug. "Max, oh, sweetie. Shh. It's okay. Nothing is going to happen, baby. I promise.  Nothing you don't deserve." her mother finished, Max looking up at the surroundings. Everything had gotten darker, fog everywhere, a huge dark grey cloud taking over the sky, blocking out the natural light. She tried to get out of her 'mother's grip, struggling. "Mom, let go of me. Mom? Let go." she repeated, her mother now revealing Vecna. "Maxine. You think some letters are going to make things, right? You've broken everything. Your time is almost at an end." he announced, Max continuing to fight him off. She gasped, taking a double take as she came to her senses, laying across the grass.  She got up, looking around her, her mother now gone - confused as to what just happened. She picked her bag up and ran around to the front, walking to the car obviously distraught. 

Dustin was sat on the bonnet, Lucas stood outside the car and Steve resting on the frame of the car door, looking at her in concern. "Hey, that was longer than twenty seconds. Hey, woah, woah. You alright?" he asked, Max storming past and opening her car door. "I'm fine, just drive." she instructed, everyone getting back in. "Did something happen?" Dustin asked, flinching at her response.

"Can we please just go?"

[if-you-fan-a-fire]

“Writer of the ‘Black Hand’ Letter Gets Ten Years,” Cobalt Daily Nugget. January 27, 1912. Page 1 & 7. --- PETERSON GETS LONG SENTENCE ---- Goes to Penitentiary Ten Years in Letter Case ---- JOHN NEWMAN IS DISCHARGED --- "Black Hand" Letter Threshed Out in Provincial Court Yesterday ---- Peter Peterson, who pleaded guilty to writing a ‘‘black hand” letter intended to extort $2000 from the Imperial Bank, was sentenced to ten years in Kingston penitentiary yesterday afternoon by Magistrate Atkinson sitting in provincial court.

John Newman, Peterson's roommate, whom Peterson implicated in his confession was acquitted by the court following hie denial of Peterson’s accusations. 

John Louma, keeper of the boarding house in which the two men had their room, is still held under bail and his case will come up Jan. 31.

The taking of testimony in the case consumed most of the afternoon and was attended by more than the court room could accommodate, Peterson, who is a ruddy faced boy of 20 years, stood against the wall looking at the floor in a resigned attitude, after his own confession was made. Newman stood in the middle of the floor defiantly listening to each piece of testimony that tended to implicate him In the crime. 

That the "black hand" signature to the letter was merely for the purpose of frightening the bank into acceeding to the demands of the letter was laughingly admitted by Peterson, who confessed that when he wrote the threat that the bank and Manager Goodall would be blown to pieces, he had no idea of putting anything of the kind into practice and that there were no facilities for doing it if i had been contemplated.

In his denial of the story, told by Peterson, that he was the real inventor of the plan and that he had urged Peterson to write the letter and had taken it from Peterson after it was written, and mailed it himself for fear the boy’s resolution should fail, Newman gave an account of his movements during the day, frequently calling upon his friends in the audience to vouch for the accuracy of his statements. 

He said that it was unlikely that he, if he had been guilty of sending the letter, would have gone to John Louma in the Jail, after the arrest of his landlord and offered his own services as private sleuth to track the perpetrator of the scheme  to earth. He said he did this because he wanted to do a good turn for Louma in return for kindnesses that Louma had done him in lending him money from time to time. The police also testified that Newman had tried to obtain the job of tracking the guilty party, even after his own arrest on the charge.

Peterson told the same story that be had told the police, furnishing more details as he was questioned. He said that he had at first refused to have anything to do with it when Newman, as he claimed, had proposed to him that they write a ‘black hand letter’ to get money. Newman, he said, had told him that he knew of the scheme having been worked successfully in parts of the United States, where he had been and that in one particular instance, friends of his had gotten money under precisely the same circumstances as the ones in this case. He said that, in a boarding house where there were people coming and going all the time, Newman had told him there was little chance of being caught.

"Do you remember what he said about it?" asked Solicitor Mitchell, retained by the imperial Bank who acted as prosecuting lawyer.

"He said they’ll have a h---- of a time getting us," responded Peterson, then told that he had gone skating in the afternoon after having refused to write the letter. Peterson said that he had then consented and had written it on a tablet.

That night they went to the theater, Newman carrying the latter all the time and he still had the letter when they came out of the play. They had walked down past the post office and Peterson having having some letters of his own to mail, had said to Newman that he would mail the black hand letter with the rest but that Newman had told him that he would mail it himself to be sure that it was mailed. 

Newman had joined him, Peterson claimed, further down the street where Peterson was walking slowly. Peterson had asked him if he had mailed the letter and he had responded that he had. On being quuestioned further, Peterson said that Newman had been away from work all day. He said that both he and Newman had been heavily in debt, and that they had been heavily in debt, and that they had been discussing for several days means of making some money to get themselves some money to get themselves out of their difficulties and bring in enough to put them on their feet. He said it was first thought they would write to some mining company.

Manager Goodall was placed on the stand and identified the letter as the one he had received. He said that at first he had thought it must be a joke but when he found out the name of the holder of the box, he took the matter seriously and communicated with the provincial police. Together they had planned the decoy letter and the expedient of having the particular box watched.

John A MacArthur, a time keeper in the Nipissing mines, brought the company’s books to show that the particular Friday on which the letter was written and mailed was the only day that Newman had failed to report for work in the morning. He said that there had been no complaint as to Newman’s work.

Seveal times during Peterson’s recitation Newman tried to interrupt him but had been told that he would be given an opportunity to talk Iater on when. Magistrate Atkininson asked him if he had anything to say in his own defence, Newman said he had lots to say. He vehemently denied that he had known anything  about the writing of the letter, had talked to Peterson about any such scheme at all, or had known of any black hand schemes at all, in the United States or elsewhere.

He said that he had failed to go to work on the Friday in question but that it was due only to his being late in rising that morning and for no other reason. He called on his friends to witness that he spent most of the day in playing pool and drinking at a nearby saloon. He said that he had gone to the theater with Peterson that night and that he had not gone near the post office. He said he could not think of any reason why Peterson should try to incriminate him, beyond the fact that he had beaten him several games of pool the night before.

Newman then testified to having gone to Louma, after Louma was arrested, and tried to obtain the job of spying out the real perpetrator of the scheme, which he said he knew could not have been done by Louma. He said that he had done work of the same kind in Finland, while a member of the police force there and knew how to do it. He said his intention was to go to the post office and wait there, examining all the handwriting that came in, until he spotted a duplicate of that on the black hand letter. He said that he expected that the work would take months to complete.

In liberating Newman, Magistrate Atkinson said that it appeared logical that the young boy might try to push all of the blame of originating of the scheme on an older man and appear to be the innocent victim, for the purpose of trying to secure a lighter sentence thereby. He said that there was no other direct testimony that would warrant the holding of Newman on Peterson’s accusation alone and that Newman’s story had remained unshaken through the cross examination.

Peterson was taken to the penitentiary this morning.

[myclippings]

The Stranger - Albert Camus (Part 4)

>"Why did you fire five consecutive shots?" I thought for a bit; then explained that they weren't quite consecutive. I fired one at first, and the other four after a short interval. "Why did you pause between the first and second shot?" I seemed to see it hovering again before my eyes, the red glow of the beach, and to feel that fiery breath on my cheeks—and, this time, I made no answer. During the silence that followed, the magistrate kept fidgeting, running his fingers through his hair, half rising, then sitting down again. Finally, planting his elbows on the desk, he bent toward me with a queer expression.

uy what a scenario no, escaping reality with another, more recent reality also shows how good questions are good at letting feelings out and how when handling yet-to-be-processed emotions, people tend to prefer silence than showing vulnerability.

>My gaze fell on her shoulders, and I had a sudden longing to squeeze them, through the thin dress. Its silky texture fascinated me, and I had a feeling that the hope she spoke of centered on it, somehow.

>in the long run one gets used to anything.

>"It passed my understanding why I shouldn't be allowed even to smoke; it could have done no one any harm. Later on, I understood the idea behind it; this privation, too, was part of my punishment. But, by the time I understood, I'd lost the craving, so it had ceased to be a punishment."

>One of the villagers had left his home to try his luck abroad. After twenty-five years, having made a fortune, he returned to his country with his wife and child. Meanwhile his mother and sister had been running a small hotel in the village where he was born. He decided to give them a surprise and, leaving his wife and child in another inn, he went to stay at his mother's place, booking a room under an assumed name. His mother and sister completely failed to recognize him. At dinner that evening he showed them a large sum of money he had on him, and in the course of the night they slaughtered him with a hammer. After taking the money they flung the body into the river. Next morning his wife came and, without thinking, betrayed the guest's identity. His mother hanged herself. His sister threw herself into a well.

>"you're conscious of all the people on the opposite seat staring at you in the hope of finding something in your appearance to amuse them."

>"That fellow's the special correspondent of one of the Paris dailies. As a matter of fact, he didn't come on your account. He was sent for the parricide case, but they've asked him to cover yours as well." It was on the tip of my tongue to say, "That was very kind of them," but then I thought it would sound silly. With a friendly wave of his hand he left us, and for some minutes nothing happened.

>"I had a foolish desire to burst into tears. For the first time I'd realized how all these people loathed me."

Gloat - dwell on own success and or be smug about another's misfortune -- feel some kind of pleasure from it

clear - cogent (case)

>"IT is always interesting, even in the prisoner's dock, to hear oneself being talked about. And certainly in the speeches of my lawyer and the prosecuting counsel a great deal was said about me; more, in fact, about me personally than about my crime."

>We cannot blame a man for lacking what it was never in his power to acquire.

compunction - the guilt feeling after doing something bad

>At one moment, however, I pricked up my ears; it was when I heard him saying: "It is true I killed a man." He went on in the same strain, saying "I" when he referred to me. It seemed so queer that I bent toward the policeman on my right and asked him to explain. He told me to shut up; then, after a moment, whispered: "They all do that." It seemed to me that the idea behind it was still further to exclude me from the case, to put me off the map. so to speak, by substituting the lawyer for myself. Anyway, it hardly mattered; I already felt worlds away from this courtroom and its tedious "proceedings."

inexorable - impossible to stop or prevent

>Naturally, all that "hope" could come to was to be knocked down at the corner of a street or picked off by a bullet in my back. But, all things considered, even this luxury was forbidden me; I was caught in the rattrap irrevocably.

>>"For, the moment I'd pictured myself in freedom, standing behind a double rank of policemen—on the right side of the line, so to speak—the mere thought of being an onlooker who comes to see the show, and can go home and vomit afterward, flooded my mind with a wild, absurd exultation. It was a stupid thing to let my imagination run away with me like that; a moment later I had a shivering fit and had to wrap myself closely in my blanket. But my teeth went on chattering; nothing would stop them."

>>"One always has exaggerated ideas about what one doesn't know."

>"When something happens to me I want to be ready for it. That's why I got into the habit of sleeping off and on in the daytime and watching through the night for the first hint of daybreak in the dark dome above. The worst period of the night was that vague hour when, I knew, they usually come; once it was after midnight I waited, listening intently. Never before had my ears perceived so many noises, such tiny sounds. Still, I must say I was lucky in one respect; never during any of those periods did I hear footsteps. Mother used to say that however miserable one is, there's always something to be thankful for. And each morning, when the sky brightened and light began to flood my cell, I agreed with her. Because I might just as well have heard footsteps, and felt my heart shattered into bits. Even though the faintest rustle sent me hurrying to the door and, pressing an ear to the rough, cold wood, I listened so intently that I could hear my breathing, quick and hoarse like a dog's panting— even so there was an end; my heart hadn't split, and I knew I had another twenty-four hours' respite."

>"At this stage, but only at this stage, I had, so to speak, the right, and accordingly I gave myself leave, to consider the other alternative; that my appeal was successful. And then the trouble was to calm down that sudden rush of joy racing through my body and even bringing tears to my eyes. But it was up to me to bring my nerves to heel and steady my mind; for, even in considering this possibility, I had to keep some order in my thoughts, so as to make my consolations, as regards the first alternative, more plausible. When I'd succeeded, I had earned a good hour's peace of mind; and that, anyhow, was something."

>Then I did something I hadn't done for quite a while; I fell to thinking about Marie. She hadn't written for ages; probably, I surmised, she had grown tired of being the mistress of a man sentenced to death. Or she might be ill, or dead. After all, such things happen. How could I have known about it, since, apart from our two bodies, separated now, there was no link between us, nothing to remind us of each other? Supposing she were dead, her memory would mean nothing; I couldn't feel an interest in a dead girl. This seemed to me quite normal; just as I realized people would soon forget me once I was dead. I couldn't even say that this was hard to stomach; really, there's no idea to which one doesn't get acclimatized in time.

>"But, though I mightn't be so sure about what interested me, I was absolutely sure about what didn't interest me. And the question he had raised didn't interest me at all."

>"Maybe. Still, if you don't die soon, you'll die one day. And then the same question will arise. How will you face that terrible, final hour?"

>"What difference could they make to me, the deaths of others, or a mother's love, or his God; or the way a man decides to live, the fate he thinks he chooses, since one and the same fate was bound to "choose" not only me but thousands of millions of privileged people who, like him, called themselves my brothers. Surely, surely he must see that? Every man alive was privileged; there was only one class of men, the privileged class. All alike would be condemned to die one day; his turn, too, would come like the others'. And what difference could it make if, after being charged with murder, he were executed because he didn't weep at his mother's funeral, since it all came to the same thing in the end?"

>"As a condemned man himself, couldn't he grasp what I meant by that dark wind blowing from my future?"

----------Added on Wednesday, December 13, 2023 1:41:31 AM

[stuckylibrary]

Group Ask 190

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Please reply to this post if you know one of the fics mentioned in this ask. Thank you so much in advance!

Anonymous 1 asked:

Lost a fic a while ago :( Bucky was sent to kill Steve/get info from him & they meet at a gala or event. Bucky gives Steve a bj outside & they develop a relationship (but Bucky just needs info) Bucky realizes that hydra/shield are heavily controlling Steve, making his life as boring as possible. Bucky is still the soldier, but also an agent. They also jog in the rain & then do the do on the Brooklyn bridge I think? Hydra comes after them while on a secret vacay, later reveal Bucky is the soldier

Anonymous 2 asked:

i'm having a bit of trouble finding this fic i read a while back. i remember it had bucky comparing steve to an arrow shirt ad and they fall off a bike? i''m pretty sure there are some time skips as well and they eventually get together? sorry this is such a limb thank you so so much for your help!!

Anonymous 3 asked:

hi i’m looking for this fic where steve and bucky are married and they have a son in his teens, and it’s in the future. steve and bucky have relationship problems and bucky doesn’t have a good relationship with their son, and i think at one point divorce is brought up? i read it ages ago and i can’t remember much aside from that

Anonymous 4 asked:

i cant for the life of me find this fic but it's a winter soldier trial focused one, and when on the stand steve admits to being in love w bucky? and one of the lines i remember is "we are not here to prosecute captain rogers for something he didn't do 70 years ago" bc the opposing lawyer started asking some rlly asshole-ish questions abt morality and shit? uhhh help

Anonymous 5 asked:

hi! i need help finding a fic? it was a modern au and i think it might have been a small town? and i think that sarah died in the fic and bucky went over to comfort steve. it’s like The Firing Line but sarah instead of joseph? ring any bells? thank you!

Anonymous 6 asked:

i lost a fic where steve was dating tony but they broke up and then he met bucky? i don’t remember too much about it tbh but i remember he talked to nat and wanda and there was moving going on and something with a moving truck

Anonymous 7 asked:

Hi, I'm looking for this fic, but I might be mixing up two different ones- it was a WS recovery fic, where Bucky's hesitant to make contact with Steve but Steve is persistent. Bucky goes on runs and eventually lets Steve join, and Bucky gets to choose the route and instead of asking if Steve's ready to start, Bucky just starts running and assumes Steve will follow? Thanks!!

Anonymous 8 asked:

hii I'm trying to find a fic but all i can remember about it is that it's skinny! steve and there's a scene where stucky and the howling commandos swim in a freezing lake and steve has an asthma attack and bucky gets super worried. do you know of any like that?

Anonymous 9 asked:

hi guys! please can you help me find a specific fic? it was shrinkyclinks and bucky was like the attendent/janitor/handyman of the building that steve lived in. it specifically mentioned bucky in levi jeans and at one point steve pretended that he'd seen a mouse so that bucky would go up to his apartment. thanks guys x

Anonymous 10 asked:

Hello! I’m looking for a fic where Steve finds Bucky in a cabin I believe, and they start taking/arguing and there is one part where while they are talking Bucky gets mad and he shoves Steve against a wall because “all the fight in Steve has left him” and Steve pushes back and yells and Bucky says there is the Steve he remembers? That’s the most I can remember 😅

Anonymous 11 asked:

Gosh this is gonna be so annoying bc I'm sure I found it here the first time but, I'm looking for a fix in which Steve re programs the ws? And Bucky and Steve r together and ws thinks Steve's hot too?? Help??

Anonymous 12 asked:

hi! i'm looking for a soulmate fic where bucky is really excited to meet his soulmate & really loves the idea of it, but steve, his soulmate, doesn't like the idea & is against it all so when they first meet, bucky agrees to just be friends with steve. steve dates peggy on & off & whenever they fight, he always goes to bucky & they've fucked a few times, & when they do it's really good because they're soulmates & have that bond, but steve doesn't realise that that's why it feels so good?

snowpaw1611 asked:

Hello, could you please help me find a fanfiction? Steve loses his phone or got it stolen. I can't remember much of it, but I remember Steve released some kind of public statement about it, because of the text records between him and bucky, which included dick pics and also just consoling Bucky after he has a nightmare. At the end of it, Tony made a new chat program that automatically deletes the messages after some time. Thank you very much, I hope you can help me find it!!

unjovialhackingsatan asked:

I'm looking for a fic I read recently but cannot find again, it was on Ao3. Bucky had been found, and in recovery, he had been writing in a journal a lot, and when he and Steve finally came back together as a couple, there was a line in his diary that said something along the lines of "get well for steve". He had been writing a list of goals, and that was the top of the list. I am dying to read this fic again!! please help.

Anonymous 13 asked:

I’m so sorry to bother but I’ve tried to find this fix and I can’t it’s a pre war fic where Bucky wants to find out how far Steve can go without being touched I’m sorry if it’s vague but it’s all I remember

[gotnofucks]

Golden Cage

Pairing: soft!dark!Andy Barber x Reader

Summary: You asked Andy to take your case and he asked for you to give yourself to him as payment. (18+ ONLY!!)

Words: 6.3k (lmao sorry)

WARNINGS: dub con, blackmail, coercion, possessive behavior, bad smut, slight angst. SPOILERS FOR DEFENDING JACOB!

A/N: Kinda blurred boundaries here.

MASTERLIST

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

You needed more concealer or the only way you’d be going out in public would be with turtlenecks. Andy loved to leave marks on your neck and the rest of the body, and he hated you covering them up. The moment you would come back, the first thing he does is drag you to the bathroom to wipe the makeup off and bare your bruises to his eyes. They were marks of his ownership over you, and they reminded you both of the truth: You belonged to him.

Your life took a turn nearly a year ago when your brother was accused of third-degree murder of his colleague. The case was pretty much a public trial and the scandal rocked your world. Not only did your brother get arrested, but you lost your job too by means of association. You knew your brother was innocent, he would never hurt a fly let alone a human being. But try as you might, you couldn’t get a lawyer to represent him. That’s when Andrew Barber stepped into your life.

Having left prosecution and taking up defense cases, Andy and you met in the police station where you had gone for some information. You were filling a form talking to an aid, the only one who seemed to sympathize with you when Andy walked in. The lady had pointed at him and said, “If anyone could have won a case like yours, it would be him. As an ADA, Andrew Barber never lost a case and he carried that record as a defense lawyer too. But he’s very selective in his cases and well…expensive too”.

You had looked up and followed her gaze and words, a tiny spark of hope lighting in you. After you had hastily filled your form, you waited outside the station hoping you could catch Andy leaving and plead your case to him. When he came out, you waited until he reached his car to approach him.

“Excuse me, Mr. Barber?”, You said, twisting your fingers in the hem of your shirt. He turned to look at you in question.

“Yes?”

“Uh, my name is Y/n Y/l/n.” You said and Andy’s eye flashed with recognition of your last name.

“How can I help you Miss Y/l/n?” His voice had a tinge of pity because he knew what you were going through. He’d been through it himself and lost everything in that battle.

“I’m sure you’ve heard of my brother’s case Mr. Barber. I need all the help I can get. He’s innocent. I know he is innocent! Would you please help me?” You were ready to leave your dignity and kneel in front of him if you had to. Your brother was your whole world and you were ready to sacrifice everything for him.

Andy sighed. He looked at you silently before reaching into his pocket and handing you his card.

“Make an appointment for tomorrow, okay? I’ll see what I can do, but no promises. Bring all the files you have on the case and anything else that you think might be of help.”

You’d arrived at the appointment ladened with a huge box of papers. You were surprised when you were told to meet Andy at his house and not his office, but you saw no reason to complain. His house was huge and cozy, but recent changes were visible. Empty bolts on the wall showed recently removed pictures and you quickly recalled the story about the Barber’s scandal you’d read on the net last night. It was a nasty business and you knew deep in your bones that Andy could help you and your brother because he had personal experience with something like this.

“Would you like a drink?”, Andy asked you, taking a seat across from you in his kitchen.

“Just some water please”, You answered, nervously looking at him. He had forgone his business formal inside his home and was wearing a button up with dark jeans. He handed you a glass of water and then motioned to the files in front of you.

“May I?” He asked and you nodded, sliding them over to him and sipped your water.

Andy looked over the papers for quite a long time, his brow furrows. He took out a small notepad and scribbled something on it between his reading, one finger tracing his beard. You looked at him anxiously, trying to decipher his reaction. If you could convince him to take the case, then all hope was not lost for your brother.

After going home last night you had read everything you could about Andrew Barber, and pity had swelled in your heart for him like an ocean. This brave man had lost more than his good name in the society. His ex-wife Laurie was in prison in the attempted murder of their 15-year-old son Jacob, who was still recovering from the injuries inflicted to him by his mother. How Andy could still manage a normal life with work was a wonder. He was only in his 30s to have gone through something so traumatic and you hoped that once this case was over, you could rise from the ashes like him.

After taking a good look at the papers, Andy finally put them down and leaned back on his chair, folding his arms against his chest. You looked at him nervously, chewing on your lip as you waited for him to speak. His gaze lingered for a moment on your lips before meeting your eyes.

“May I please call you Y/n?” He asked and you nodded. “Y/n, I wouldn’t say that this is an easy case. You know it isn’t. Evidence is heavily stacked against your brother.”

“But?”

“But it’s not completely hopeless either. There are loopholes, a lot of them in fact. A lot of evidence is mostly circumstantial, and if we can find some experts to recreate the murder scene digitally, we might be able to prove that your brother is innocent. The stab wound is near the heart, a difficult place to lodge the knife in since you need to get through the rib cage. The murder weapon was quite deep inside the body, meaning a lot of force has been used. I’ve seen your brother’s pictures and just read his reports.” Andy smiled a little. “He certainly doesn’t look like someone strong enough to make this kill wound, especially since there are signs of struggle which would make it even more difficult.”

You looked at him with your mouth parted, eyes wide and hoping. Your heart was beating widely in your chest and you wet your lips before speaking.

“So, there is a chance he will get off?”, You asked.

“I think if we play the right strategy and work things out, there is a chance he might get off.”

You almost lunged across the table and hugged the man. Unbidden, tears stinged your eyes and you sniffled, trying to keep them from rolling down your cheeks. Andy got up and walked around to your side before handing you a tissue. You dabbed your eyes and looked at him with gratitude in your eyes.

“Thank you. Thank you so much.”, you sobbed. He patted your back until you calmed down and then sat down beside you. It was only then that another thought hit you. Lawyers like Andy Barber didn’t come cheap. You were so focused on helping your brother you had no idea how you’d pay what you were sure would be thousands of dollars to him.

“Mr. Barber, about the-” You started to say but he cut you off by raising a hand.

“Call me Andy, we’ll be spending lot of time together solving this one. And about payment, don’t worry. I know how difficult a position you are in right now. We can talk money later, after things are a little more sorted.” His words were soft, and you immediately protested.

“I can’t do that. I can’t take advantage of your kindness like that. I’ll write you a cheque, though the next one may take a while. Please, I’ll get the money.” Now that there was a chance to get your brother out, you’ll do anything. You’ll take another job, sell your crappy apartment and car too if you had to. Anything to get your baby brother back under your roof, safe and sound.

“Please Y/n, I insist. We can talk payments later. Right now, we should focus on your brother.” You looked at Andy and murmured a small thanks and he asked you what you’d like for lunch so you can discuss the case over it.

And so, it went. Almost every day after work, you sped down to Andy’s house straight and talked over the case. The scheduled visit with your brother went well and Andy was sure the experts he had hired could give conclusive evidence to how your brother’s body type didn’t match that of the murderer. Over the next few weeks, you became consumed in this battle for justice, and every second of the day you thanked your lucky stars for Andy who became your rock. He always knew just the right thing to say, and more often he was like a friend who heard you out. When things got too difficult and you felt like you were being crushed under the pressure, he would comfort you by ways of a hot mug of coco.

The case progressed smoothly and by the time Andy made the closing arguments, you were sure your brother will be coming home with you. Everyone was right, Andrew Barber was a court room wizard and you saw him in action. The night that your brother came back, you invited Andy and Jacob to dinner. You saw Jacob frequently when you were at the Barber’s and you got along with him nicely. It hurt you to know that a boy so young had to deal with so much in his life, but he still smiled and went on with his life.

Throughout the dinner, your brother thanked Andy incessantly, almost bowing down. There was laughter under your roof the likes of which you didn’t know would ever come back. After eating, your brother and Jacob departed to play some video games and you held Andy back.

“Can we talk?”, you asked him and motioned him away from the living room to the small room you used as a study. He nodded and followed you, closing the door behind you.

“Everything okay?” He asked

“Andy, I can’t thank you enough for what you have done for me. You’ve been so kind and nice to me I feel completely indebted to you. I know you’ve been skirting around the money issue, but please, you need to let me pay you.” It was true. Anytime you brought up the topic of his payment he had changed the subject. You thought it had to do with the fact that your relationship was more than just attorney-client and more like friends and it made him uncomfortable to take money from you.

“I don’t want your money, Y/n”, Andy said firmly.

“Why the hell not? I don’t want your charity Andy. You’re my friend, and you helped me get back everything I thought I would lose. I don’t think I can ever repay you for your kindness, and money is the least I can do. Please”

Andy looked at you for moment before moving to stand right in front of you.

“I don’t want your money.” He repeated. “But you can repay me a different way.”

You looked at him speechlessly, not following. He raised a hand and gently moved a strand of your hair behind your ears.

“Andy…” You whispered.

“I don’t want your money. I want you.” He said and placed his hands on your waist, bringing you closer. Your heart beat a furious rhythm against your chest, and you forgot how to breath for a moment.

“I – what? I don’t understand” You said, trying to move away from him but he would let up. His hands tightened around you and kept you in place.

“I want you. I want you to be mine.” He said and your eyes widened. You pushed against his chest, needing to create some distance between you. You had not seen this coming. Never had you felt any untoward advances from him, he never touched you wrong. Hell, he didn’t even hug you for an unnecessary amount of time. Your relationship was the very definition of platonic. At least, that’s what you thought.

“Andy, what’s wrong with you. I thought we were friends. Please, let me go.” You said and surprisingly he released you and walked back a couple steps.

“We are friends, but I want more than that. I have wanted that for months, but I didn’t say because you had enough on your plate. I don’t want you going back to your house at night when you visit me. I want you under my roof, inside my bed and under me. Look how good you’re with Jacob too. We will be great together.”

You gaped at him and stumbled to a chair and sat down.

“I will not be your personal whore, Andy Barber!” You sneered at him and he started, shaking his head. He came and knelt before your feet, taking your hands in his.

“That’s not what I said at all. I would never do that to you.” He vehemently disagreed. “I want someone to love and cherish, I want a family. I know you can give it to me.”

You tried to jerk your hands out of his, but he held them fast.

“I’m sorry about how this is going. I wasn’t planning on talking about this tonight. But you forced my hand. I want you Y/n, and I will have you. Even if I had asked you out, I know you would have said no because you want to work and provide for your brother. Isn’t that true?” He asked.

He was right. You didn’t plan on dating anyone, anytime soon. You had to focus on your career and there was no place for a man in your life no matter how nice he was.

“You said I gave you back your life. You said you want to repay me. This is what I want. You.” He pressed a kiss on your hands and looked intently in your eyes.

“And what if that’s something I don’t want?” You asked.

Andy’s eyes darkened and he glared at you. He had spent months working tirelessly on your brother’s case and been nothing but a gentleman. He didn’t see any reason why you shouldn’t want him.

“In that case, I’ll make you want me.” He said. “I will never do anything to hurt you, trust me. But I can create situations where the only person who can help you will be me. You’ll run right back into my arms. I – I don’t want to do anything bad. I just want you. Be mine.”

He didn’t say it explicitly, but you got his meaning loud and clear. He’s an influential person, he could do any number of things to force your hand. He had been kind to you till now, but if you gave him reason to be cruel, he will be. This man could very well take away everything he gave you and you both knew that.

Later that night after Andy and Jacob left, you told your brother you want to move in with Andy. He was shocked by the suddenness of the news and you fed him some cock and bull story about falling for each other during the trial and not wanting to keep it a secret now that he was out of prison. Your brother was happy for you, telling you that he’s glad you’ve found someone like Andy who would always protect you. You agreed, Andy would always protect you from the world. But there was no one who could protect you from him.

A week later you moved into Andy’s house. Jacob greeted you at the door and took your stuff inside, apologizing that he couldn’t stay long as he’s spending the weekend at a friend’s. Your heart sank at the thought of being alone with Andy for the next two days. You hadn’t spoken much since he all but forced you to into living with him. You saw Andy in the kitchen, setting up the table and wiping the counters. He painted an utterly domestic figure, walking barefoot in his sweats and T-shirt. Seeing you arrive he smiled and moved closer to kiss your cheek and hug you.

“Welcome home, sweetheart”, He whispered in your ear, holding you close and pressing his forehead to yours. Your hands lay limp at your side and you tried to give a small smile and not push back. You heard an awkward cough from behind you and realized Jacob was fake gagging and giving his father a cheeky grin.

“Can you two like, not do this when I’m here?”, He teased and earned a playful swat from his father.

“You get out of here and don’t cause too much trouble.”, Andy said, and Jacob gave a thumbs up and wink to you both and hurried out. You heard the door shut and your hands became sweaty now that you were alone with Andy after a week. No sooner had Jacob departed that Andy’s hands cupped your face and he pressed a searing kiss on your lips. He put a hand behind your head and coaxed your mouth open, deepening the kiss and moaning. You put your hands around his wrists, closing your eyes.

“Come on, kiss me back like a good honey.” Andy said and you forced yourself to respond. His kisses were like molten fire, all passion and heat that lay over you like a warm blanket. Pulling away, Andy kissed your forehead and eyelids and then just looked at you. His eyes were blown wide and dark, his lips red and moist. You gulped as he kept his eyes on you, drinking in your sight in his arms. He hadn’t touched you that night at your place. Didn’t even kiss you. But now that you were here all alone with him, under his roof…you suppressed a shudder.

“I’m so glad you’re finally here. Come, dinner’s ready.” He led you over to the table and pulled out a chair for you. He sat beside you and filled your plate with your favorite dishes. You thanked him, eating quietly, and wondering what would happen to you tonight. Going by the way Andy’s hand was creeping up on your thigh, you knew you were in for a long night. Andy talked throughout dinner about his day and cranky clients. He shared things like a husband would to his wife and you resisted the urge to bolt out of his house. You made small noises of acknowledgment, too nervous to actually speak. There was much you wanted to ask about how things will progress from now.

“I’ve emptied one side of the closet. You can unpack tomorrow and then we can go shopping for whatever else you might need. We’ll ask Jake to click some pictures to hang around too. The walls are so bare now. Maybe a family portrait in the hall above?”

Your fork clattered to your plate as you heard him talk and you stared at him in disbelief. You’d been hear barely an hour and he was planning your life in a way that gave you chills. With every word he spoke, every plan he had, you felt like he added another bar to your prison.

“Andy, I think I should stay in another room.”, You said softly, and Andy frowned.

“Like hell you’ll stay in another room. You’ll stay with me, sleep in my bed right in my arms. You’re mine now, I think I made it very clear?”

You bit your lip and nervously played with your fingers, trying not to anger him.

“What about Jacob? Would he like it, me staying in your room? I mean, his mother lived there not too long ago and...” You stopped when Andy grabbed your chin and turned your head to meet his eyes.

“You just saw Jake. Did you see any hesitance in him when he welcomed you in? I’d already spoken to him anyway. He has no love for the woman who almost pushed him through death’s door. He likes you and he’s happy for me.”

You nodded and finished the rest of your dinner in silence. You offered to do the dishes, but Andy asked you to relax and see about the place while he tidied up. You wandered up the stairs, a part of house you had not been to before. You opened the first door on the left and found a messy room with a big screen and video games. Closing the door, you ventured forward and opened the door towards the end. This would most probably be your room. The bed was huge, and you moved inside to explore. There was an attached bathroom and a massive walk in closet where you could see Andy had cleared space for you. You sat on the bed and opened the first drawer in the bedside cabinet, finding medicine and phone charger. Opening the second, you found it scattered with stationary and other bits and bots. However, what caught your eye was the box of condom tucked in the back. You took it out and gulped in fear.

“I didn’t think you’d want a baby just right now.”, Andy said from the doorway, startling you. You turned to him and set the box down, moving backward subconsciously as he came towards you and shut the door behind him. He stood in front of you and cupped your jaw, stroking gently.

“You’re so beautiful, every time I look at you my heart stops.”, He whispered, then he bent down and kissed you deeply, his tongue in your mouth and hands roaming your sides. You gasped, your own hands fisting his t-shirt. Holding you around the waist, Andy pushed you back in the middle of the bed, climbing over you and starting to unbutton your shirt. You quickly held his hands, trembling slightly. He looked at you with that dark look in his eyes and you slowly retracted your hands and allowed him to strip you of your shirt. He sucked in a breath, pure worship in his eyes as he took in your shirtless body and reached behind you to unclasp your bra. His hands glided over your collarbones and breasts, gentle in their exploring and squeezed. You moaned despite yourself. You didn’t expect him to be this good to you. You thought he would ravish you like an animal in heat.

Andy kissed you then, one hand on your hip, the other beside your head holding his weight. You responded without really meaning to, getting lost in the heat of him. His smell smothered you until you could taste it on your tongue, and you let out a groan of pure satisfaction as he sucked a hickey into the juncture of your neck. Leaving a searing line of fire with his lips, he whispered in your ear.

“I will bath your body with my tongue until I own each and every part of you. I will mark you as mine and claim you completely. When this night is over, you will crave me with a frenzy that only my touch can quench. I’ll not just make you want me; I’ll make you thirst for me. You’ll beg me to touch you, to mark you and to fill you up.”

His words were a promise and you clenched your thighs in anticipation. That night, he proceeded to take you as his. His laved your body with his tongue, suckling, biting, and leaving marks. Your nipples were wet and sore from his attention, your core drenched and dripping. He made you cum first with his mouth, slurping on you, making you tremble and shout. Then he stretched you around his fingers, moaning dirty fantasies into your mouth while you shook under him. You remember him impaling you on his cock, remember feeling every vein of him even through the condom, you felt him stretching you wider than ever before and you cuming hard enough to see stars. He claimed your body in ways you didn’t think was possible, and you woke up the next day with bruises on parts you didn’t even know could bruise.

Your life with Andy was not unpleasant as such, but it was a golden cage. He got you what you wanted, he never stopped you from working or force you into something you didn’t want to do. You told him you didn’t want to try anal sex and he never pushed for it. You told him you missed your study and he converted a room into a library for you. In all aspects, he was the dream guy any woman could want. Only, you never had the option to make this choice. It was thrust upon you and you had to live it no matter what.

The only thing Andy insisted on was your loyalty and time. He told you in no uncertain terms that if he so much as smelled another man’s cologne on you, he’ll tie you up and edge you until you remembered who you belonged to. You didn’t think he was serious until one night Andy lost his cool after watching you hug a colleague who dropped you home. You ended up tied spread eagle on the bed, crying tears of frustration as he edged you with his mouth and a vibrator for hours. It wasn’t until you sobbed out, “I’m yours!” that he let you cum. The other thing he wanted was your time. He never interrupted your work, but if you’re home, he is the only thing that should be on your mind. He kept you close, always an arm on your waist or you in his lap. His possessiveness knew no bounds and Jacob often joked that he’d need a sawing machine to separate you.

You couldn’t say you hated Andy because you didn’t. Even when he had first forced you into a relationship, you didn’t hate him. He’d been a good friend to you and a great support. He had done too much for you to ever hate him, as you were reminded every time you saw your brother. But you couldn’t say you loved him either. The very fact that if you had a choice you wouldn’t be here gnawed at you. While you laughed with Andy when you saw movies or sighed in pleasure when he put those hands on you, you couldn’t bring yourself to love him. You cared for him, you loved to wake up with his face between your thighs or with your face between his. You loved it when you sat as a family to play scrabble and you and Jake teamed up to beat Andy. You loved it when he tickled you into submission or when you gave him a massage after a tough day at work. But you didn’t love him.

So, it was with trepidation that you looked at the ring you found in his underwear drawer. Settled into a small velvet box, it was a silver band with diamonds lining it. Your hand shook slightly, wondering what you’ll do once he asks you the question you’d been dreading for months now. Did you even have the choice to say no? Did you want to say no? You put the box back where you’d found it and went through your day acting like nothing happened. The next few days you lived in anticipation, wondering every time Andy went into the closet if this would be it. But the ring stayed where it was and with each passing day you became as annoyed as you became relieved.

“Come here, sweetheart”, he said to you one night, holding out his hand and pulling you in his lap on the bed. You snuggled against his chest, you head on his shoulder and arms around him. He stroked your back, placing a kiss on your head as he rocked you slowly.

“Do you want to go back to your brother’s house?” He asked softly and you pulled away to look at him with puzzled eyes.

“What?”

“If you want, you can go back to living with him.”

Your heart started pounding in your chest, breath coming out in stuttered gasps. You didn’t know why but tears filled your eyes as you looked at him in utter disbelief.

“You want me to go away?” Your voice was small, broken like that of a kicked puppy. Andy pulled you tight into himself, holding you close while he cooed at you and shushed.

“No, no baby. I never want you to go away. I just feel like you want to go away.” He said and you buried your head in his neck, not understanding why you weren’t leaping across the room and packing your stuff. This is what you always wanted, your freedom. And now when it was being put on a platter for you, you clung to your prison and your captor.

“I – I don’t know what I want”, you sobbed helplessly, and Andy held you as you cried. He patted your head and pulled your face up to look into your eyes.

“While I am deranged enough to keep you with me like this, even I won’t force you into a marriage. I know you saw the ring, and I know you’ve been withdrawn ever since. I love you, more than anything in the world. You know that, and I’m pretty sure everyone who sees us knows that. Which is exactly why I am willing to set you free. I may be a bad person, but I won’t be a monster. I am giving you the choice you have always wanted. You can go if you want, I won’t stop you. I will not hold anything over you. I want you to be happy, and if that is away from here, away from me, so be it. I won’t be the person holding your happiness at bay.” He said.

You remained silent and after a while Andy set you down on the bed and got up.

“Think about it, it is your choice this time.” He kissed your head and left the room. That was the first night in over a year you’d spent alone, and you cried yourself into a restless sleep, reaching out for the warm body not there. You woke up with eyes sealed shut by dried tears and your whole body aching. The sun was high in the sky meaning you slept well past noon. You walked downstairs into the kitchen, looking around for Andy. You needed to see him, touch him. You needed assurance that he was still there and hadn’t left you. You found Jacob working on his assignment and joined him at the table.

“Good afternoon”, he teased with a smile. Then he looked at your face and cringed. “Jeez, you look sick. Can I get you something? You want me to call dad?”

“I’m fine, just tired. Where is Andy?”, you asked with a raspy voice and gratefully accepted water from Jacob.

“He left early, I think. Left a note on the fridge saying he’ll be back later.” Seeing your face fall, Jacob got up and patted your arm. “You sit here while I get you some coffee. You look like you really need it.”

You nodded and tried not to sniffle. Here was a boy who felt like your own son despite you being not that much older to him. You had a family right here, even if you hadn’t asked for it this way. You held your head in your hands, confused.

Jacob got you coffee and some snacks to munch on. He kept looking at you out of the corner of his eyes, pretending to work. You put down your mug after a few silent minutes and asked him if something was wrong.

“Did you reject dad?” He asked you after hesitating. You gaped at him in shock.

“What? I – No. Why would you say that?”

Jacob turned red stuttered. “Its just…dad showed me the ring. I thought he asked you and well, you’re in such a state and he left early which he has never done since you got here, I thought you said no.” You looked down in your lap, wanting to go upstairs and cry in your pillow.

“Hey, I am so sorry. I just – please don’t say no because of me.” Jacob said earnestly. “I am okay with your relationship. More than okay, in fact. After mom, well, I thought I would never see dad smile again. And then he met you and he started cooking and humming songs again. Then once you moved in…it felt like life had gone back to normal. He became better than before. Mom and he used to fight all the time, but you and he click. So please, if you are worried about me, don’t be.”

You chocked out a pathetic sob and hugged a bewildered Jacob who tried his best to console you. You almost laughed as he let out a few “there there” and “it will be okay”. He was so much like his father.

“Jacob, I think I love your father.”, you said with tears rolling down your cheeks. Jacob grinned a smug smile and breathed out a quite laugh.

“Why do you say that as a bad thing?” He asked.

“Because I don’t know how to tell your father about it” you confessed. Jacob stood up and took you with him. Placing his hands on your shoulder, he turned you around.

“I don’t think you need to tell him anymore.”

Andy stood at the entrance, looking at you both with an unreadable expression in his eyes. He moved closer while you flushed in embarrassment, looking at the floor and shuffling like a naughty child caught causing mischief.

“You, leave.” Andy ordered his son who was smiling like Christmas had come early.

“As if I’d stay for what’s about to happen. I quite like the innocence of my eyes.” Jake joked and scampered when his father glared at him. Andy stood in front of you, looking down at you until you finally raised your head to peak at him from under your wet lashes.

“So…”, he trailed off and you almost stomped your feet once you saw the amusement in his eyes. He is going to milk this moment for all it was worth. You’d made him wait long enough for this.

“So…” You said as well.

“I take it you aren’t going back to your brother’s?”

“No”, you whispered. You wanted him to touch you, to make you his again. Spending one night away from him had driven you almost insane with loneliness. You needed him and yet he didn’t put a hand on you.

“Why not?” He asked instead, tracing his bottom lip with his finger. You squirmed as you watched his action, heat pooling between your legs at the thought of that sensual mouth.

“I – I changed my mind”

“You did, did you?”

“Yes”

“Why?”

You glared at him, making him smirk. You broke and took hold of his collar, pulling him close and brushing your lips against his.

“You know why!” You hissed, trying to kiss him harder but he resisted.

“I don’t know, I mean, is the sex that good?”

The bastard. He was teasing you here and enjoying your discomfort. To hell with everything. You should have just written it on a scrap of paper and dumped it on his lap or something. But then you looked in his eyes which were dancing in the afternoon light, his eyes which had only ever held affection for you. You pushed yourself on you toes and put your mouth against his.

“I love you”

You were in his arms then and he carried you upstairs before you realized what happened. Throwing you on the bed and locking the door, he removed his shirt and climbed over you.

“Again”, he ordered, his lips burning against your throat.

“I love you”, you cried. Your hands found their way into his hair and tugged, making him growl. Both of you tore at your clothes, mouths meeting and teeth gnashing in a desperation to get closer.

“Again”, he said, holding your naked body beneath his, his cock poised at your entrance.

“I love you”

He entered you in a smooth stroke, making you clench around him. He pulled back and looked into your eyes, thrusting slow and deep, relishing in your mewls. He made love to you and you sang the words in his mouth and ear until you both came with muffled cries.

Sweaty and laying in each other’s arms, you basked in the newfound feeling of togetherness. You knew this wasn’t how a normal person falls in love. You realized that someone else may think something was wrong with you. But it is what it is. You loved this man after everything he had done to do. You loved him and you will do your best to let him know that every chance you could.

“So, are you gonna give me that ring now?” You asked.

Andy laughed and looked at you tugged into his naked body.

“With how much you’ve made me wait, you should be the one getting down on your knees.” He joked.

You looked at him with a teasing smile and got up.

“You only had to ask”, you breathed against his mouth before moving down on his body and getting to your knees, ready to show him how much you loved him again and again.

[cloverthirteen]

Was Ace Attorney made as a satire on Japan’s legal system? -- An analysis

I wouldn’t really call myself an Ace Attorney fan--I’ve never played any of the games, the closest I’ve come being watching other people’s let’s plays. I do like reading about the series on wikis and interacting with fan content for it, though, so I do know a fair amount about it.

One thing I see being said pretty often by fans is that the series was intended as a satire/parody of the Japanese legal system, which is why the courts are ridiculously biased towards the prosecution, prosecutors often care more about perfect win records more than putting actual guilty people behind bars, etc. If you’re familiar with this, you’ve probably heard of Japan’s 99% conviction rate. This interpretation of the games and the way they work definitely makes sense.

But after hearing this many times I eventually noticed something. There isn’t a single actual source (creator statement, interview, etc.) that backs up this claim. Every time I see someone online say “the series creator made Ace Attorney to parody Japan’s actual legal system” there is never a link to an interview or anything that proves their statement correct. If someone has an actual, verified source from Shu Takumi or someone else who had significant involvement with the series, please prove me wrong and show it to me. But according to all of the creator’s statement’s I’ve read, there’s no evidence of the series being an intentional parody.

So, what do we know about the creation of the Ace Attorney series? Well, it was created by Shu Takumi, who wrote and directed the first three games. After working on the dinosaur survival horror game Dino Crisis for Capcom, he was given the opportunity to make any kind of game he wanted. He really wanted to make mystery and adventure games, and from that came Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney.

MC: Before developing Ace Attorney you worked on Dino Crisis. How does one go from dinosaur survival horror to virtual courtrooms?

ST: Dino Crisis was the brainchild of my then boss, Resident Evil creator, Shinji Mikami. Working on his projects taught me not only how to make games, but also how to think about them. After Dino Crisis 2 wrapped, Mr Mikami gave me six months in which to create any kind of game I wanted.

I was still pretty wet behind the ears, but as I'd originally joined Capcom with a desire to create mystery and adventure games, this was a huge chance for me to make my mark as a creator. In the end it took a team of seven 10 months to produce the first GBA Ace Attorney title. Having the freedom to create exactly the kind of game I wanted was amazing and it was a real pleasure to work on that project.

MC: Can you remember when the idea of Ace Attorney first came to you? How did your bosses respond to the idea of a lawyer-based adventure game when you first described it to them?

ST: It was in 2000 when Mr Mikami said I could make my own game and my original idea was a fairly typical adventure with a detective as the main character. Most mystery adventures have the player choose from a number of different dialogue options for their character in order to progress the story, but I wanted a new gameplay style that enabled players to deduce for themselves what was happening, rather than just selecting canned responses. I developed this into the concept of facing off against the suspect in a crime and exposing the contradictions in their statements.

I was sure my new idea would be a fun and original take on the genre, so I started to revise the main character, since a detective would be too traditional for such an original concept. I asked myself, "What kind of professional would face off against a suspect and expose their contradictory statements?" The answer, of course, was a lawyer and so the Ace Attorney concept was born.

(source, from an interview on the making of the series)

Takumi’s original concept for the game involved Phoenix as not a defense lawyer, but as a detective. The gameplay was to consist of “facing off against the suspect of a crime and finding the contradictions in their statements.” However, Takumi eventually realized that taking apart contradictions wasn’t really a detective’s job, and decided to change the protagonist to a lawyer and the setting to a courtroom instead. And thus, the game’s concept was finalized.

Janet: As you know, “Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney Trilogy” is coming out world-wide this winter, and as I was brainstorming what to write about for this week’s blog, I remembered your tweets from 2010.

Takumi: Tweets from 2010?

Janet: …Well, it was a long time ago…

Takumi: ???

Janet: I-It’s OK if you don’t remember…

Takumi: …Oh, THOSE! Yes!

Janet: I remember reading them and being shocked by how different the original draft of the game’s story was – how Phoenix wasn’t even a lawyer, but a private eye!

Takumi: Yes, AA was originally supposed to be a detective game, so naturally, Phoenix was to be a private eye. But then, one day, I made a startling realization: the gameplay concept I was going for was for players to enjoy finding and taking contradictions apart, but that was hardly related to investigating or detective work at all. In that moment, I had it – I realized that the main setting for the game should be the courtroom.

Janet: That’s quite the jump, but you know, I can’t imagine this series being anything else at this point. 

(source, from an interview by Janet Hsu about the game’s early development)

During the development for the game, Takumi actually knew very little about the intricacies of the legal system--and in fact, he’s been very transparent about that fact in interviews. There’s even a story he talks about in a blog post where he was asked “shouldn’t we do some research on law before we make this game?” and agonized over it for a bit before deciding that being accurate about courtroom processes wasn’t important--what was important was that the game made the trials exciting and fun.

November, 2000. The characters were coming together, and I was working desperately on my first scenario (the current Turnabout Sisters). One day, I was asked about the one thing I didn’t want to be asked about.

“Mr. Takumi. Don’t we need to do some research on law?”

The knowledge I have about the law, pretty amounts to the one fact that in Japan we have the Roppō Zensho ('Complete Book of The Six Major Legal Codes').

“Don’t bother with that. This is a detective game. “

It should have been over with this one line, but…

“But this isn’t a detective game, it’s a lawyer game!”

“If it’s not going to be realistic, I don’t see why this should be about trials.”

“People who play this might get wrong knowledge from the game!”

“We might get sued by the Bar Association!”

“They’ll start complaining!”

…Gyakuten Saiban (Ace Attorney GBA) is simply a “mystery game.”　“Being realistic” is not what is important. What’s important is emphasizing, and recreating the unique “atmosphere” and “tension” of the courtroom. That is why the judge uses a gavel, even though no judge uses that, and why Naruhodō shouts "Objection!" even though nobody does that either.　This game does not need a “realistic courtroom”!

Chasing the true murderer down to the end, and then getting applauded for that in the courtroom. That feeling of thrill and excitement. It was only by February of the following year when we finally manage to recreate that in the game. The couple of months after this had happened, we looked around, got lost and troubled our minds in search for the answer of the big question of “How do we make a trial into a game?”.  Fall was passing by, and the cold winter was close upon us.

(source, from an archived blog post by Takumi)

So, realism and knowledge of law wasn’t important to Takumi during the development of the series. But there’s also the fact that Takumi has actually personally denied that the Ace Attorney series was an intentional satire or criticism of the court system at any point. In fact, according to a blog post (done as if Phoenix and Maya were reading the column and commenting on it), he actually dislikes people seeing his work this way, as he never intended the games to have any big political statements.

A major prerequisite for Gyakuten Saiban is it’s so simple “even my mother could play it”.  So there is only one point at the core of the game: “Seeing through lies”.

Naruhodō: It wasn’t even supposed to be a game about the trials at first. Mayoi: Eh! Really?! Naruhodō: “Simple” is basically all this game is about, according to TakuShū. Mayoi: What do you mean? Naruhodō: He didn’t want to add all kinds of elements for the player to think about, like alibis, tricks or about the culprit. It’d just confuse them. Mayoi: Really. Naruhodō: Basically, you can proceed in the game if you just think about where the contradiction is. He figured that with that, the controls of the game could also stay simple. Mayoi: But, but, why the trials then? Naruhodō: “A story about a detective seeing through lies” wouldn’t be any different from the other games out there. So that’s why he decided to have someone whose job is seeing through lies as the protagonist. Mayoi: So a defense attorney. Naruhodō: Occasionally  TakuShū sees magazines introducing the game as “a work that dared to take on the theme of trials”, and that actually hurts him. Mayoi: He never meant to be something as big as that…. 

(source, from the mentioned blog post)

Ultimately I see how easy it is, if you know a good amount about both Ace Attorney and Japan’s legal system, to come to the conclusion that the games were made as a dig against the latter. However, somewhere along the line, people apparently stopped seeing this as merely a theory and instead as a definite fact. Now, that doesn’t mean that the theory is entirely unfounded--given that Takumi focused only on making trials interesting and fun in the games, you could say that the games work as an light, comedic parody, not meant to make any political statements. And hey, maybe there’s something I missed--maybe there were other people working on the series who did have significant knowledge of law and wrote some parts of the games as intentional satire of the system. Again, if anyone has evidence of this, don’t hesitate to provide it. But with what I know, I don’t think going “well actually” to people who point out the ridiculousness and unfairness of Ace Attorney’s court system is necessary. It’s simply that way to make the games more fun.

[bumblesimagines]

Green Thumb

Part 9

Request: Yes or No

Almost at double digits y'all. Can someone be an angel and send me the ages of every one between civil war and endgame? Ik Wanda was 18-19 in Age of Ultron and Civil war and Sam was probs in his mid to late twenties in Civil War.

~

You frowned, touching the collar around your neck. It made you feel like an animal. It was to prevent you from using your powers. Rhodes had mentioned it would shock you if you attempted to use your powers. You weren't sure if it was instantaneous or if someone controlled it but you didn't feel like finding out.

"You like cats?" Sam asked T'Challa, prince of Wakanda.

"Sam." Steve called, glancing over his shoulder like a disapproving parent. You snorted softly, biting your bottom lip.

"What? Dude shows up dressed like a cat and you don't want to know more?" Sam asked, looking at Steve.

"I like cats." You mumbled, looking at Sam with a small smile. Sam turned towards you with a small grin.

"Of course you do, Animal Planet." You rolled your eyes at the new nickname, shifting slightly. You really didn't want to trigger the collar.

"I'm a dog person."

"You look like a dog person."

"And what do dog people look like?"

"Morons." You answered, giving a slight shrug as Steve cracked a smile, trying to bite back a chuckle. Sam huffed lightly, looking away from you. A moment of silence passed before Steve spoke.

"Your suit.. Vibranium?" Steve asked T'Challa. The prince turned his head slightly.

"The Black Panther has been the protector of Wakanda for generations. It's meant to pass from warrior to warrior. Now, because your friend murdered my father, I also wear the mantle of king. So I ask you.. How long do you think you can keep your friend safe from me?" T'Challa asked, finally looking at Steve. Steve stayed silent, looking forward. You sighed through your nose, feeling the tension return. You wondered if Clint had been notified of your arrest yet. The van pulled into a parking garage, officers opening the door once it came to a stop. You got out, following Steve to the man and blonde.

"What's gonna happen to him?" Steve asked. You turned your head, looking over at him. You made eye contact with him again, holding it for a minute before looking away.

"What was that?" Sam asked quietly. You frowned, brows furrowing.

"That- That little staring contest."

"Oh, shut up." You huffed, looking away from him.

"Same thing that's gonna happen to you. Psychological evaluation." The man replied.

"This is Everett Ross, CIA operative and Task Force Commander." The woman, Sharon Carter, introduced him. Her gaze flickered to you.

"The shock collar will be taken off after the evaluation." She said, voice stotic but gaze pitiful.

"What about a lawyer?"

"Lawyer, that's funny. See their weapons are placed in lock up." Ross instructed the officers. Sam scoffed, following the officers. Steve spared one last glance to Bucky before following Ross and the officers. You walked besides Sam, being escorted through the building.

"You'll be placed in offices instead of cells. Do me a favor and stay in them." Ross stared straight forward as he spoke. T'Challa moved to walk beside him.

"I don't intend on going anywhere." T'Challa said. You spotted Natasha, feeling some sense of relief.

"Clint was informed and I assured him I'd keep an eye on you." Natasha told you, giving a small reassuring smile. She looked at Steve, addressing him. The relief went away upon hearing Tonys' voice. He finished his phone call, approaching you and the guys.

"Consequences?" Steve questioned, staring at him. You looked around the large room, noticing the screens and everything going on.

"Secretary Ross wants you three prosecuted." Tony said, motioning to them and you. Your brows furrowed slightly. There were two guys with the last name Ross who looked vaguely alike. That definitely wouldn't be hard to remember.

"I'm not getting that shield back, am I?" Steve asked as Tony and Natasha walked away.

"Technically, it belongs to the government. Wings too." Natasha said, shrugging.

"That's cold." Sam muttered.

"Warmer than jail." Tony called back. You looked at the security cameras, noticing the room Bucky had been moved to.

"You got the hots for him or something?" Sam asked. Steve turned to look at you, blinking a few times. You shot Sam a look, raising your brows.

"No, Samuel. I do not and if I did, why would you ask infront of his longtime bestie?" You asked, almost gritting your teeth. Sam raised his hands in surrender as Tony pulled Steve into a meeting room to talk.

"Why have a meeting in a glass box?" You asked quietly. Sam shrugged, looking it over.

"To prevent fighting." Sam answered. You watched at Steve and Tony seemed to argue. You looked at Sam with an amused smile.

"Physical fights." Sam clarified as Tony stepped out and Sharon had you and Sam enter. You took a seat across from Sam, looking at the security camera footage. Sharon entered, placing a paper infront of Sam.

"I'm sorry about the collar." Sharon apologized softly. You leaned back in the seat, shrugging lightly. She pressed a button, allowing Steve to listen to the footage. Sharon slid over some photos over to Steve.

"Why would the Task Force release this?" Steve asked. Sharon gave a shrug.

"To alert the public, I guess."

"Right.. A good way to force a guy into hiding. Got seven billion people looking for The Winter Solider."

"You're saying someone framed the guy to find him." Sharon mused quietly. Sam seemed confused, looking at Steve. You looked back at the footage on screen.

"Steve, you looked for the guy for two years and found nothing." Sam reminded him.

"We didn't bomb the UN."

"That doesn't guarantee that the person who framed him knew that we'd get him." Sharon looked at Steve. She suddenly frowned, brows furrowing as Steve turned towards the footage. You looked up as the power went out, seeing the staff begin to freak out and try to locate the source. You looked at Sam, slowly standing up. Sharon took out a key, sliding it over to you.

"Level 5 east wing." She said as you unlocked the collar, tossing it to the side as running out of the room with Sam and Steve. Whoever had framed Bucky had found him. You followed the two down the hall and down some stairs. You reached the area, finding guards on the ground. The interviewer lied on the ground, calling for help. Steve approached him with you hesitantly following. You noticed movement out of the corner of your eye, dodging Sam when he was thrown towards you.

"Hey, dude." You breathed out, swallowing. Bucky had a deep frown on his face, blue eyes holding nothing but bloodlust. He looked downright terrifying. You thrusted both hands forward, shooting a fireball that sent him flying back against the wall. Steve quickly stepped between you and him as you turned and rushed to Sam.

"Sam? Sam!" You shook his shoulders, shakey fingers pressing against his neck. You felt his pulse, relieved to feel his heartbeat. You slapped his cheek, waking him up.

"I've always wanted to do that." You muttered, watching him wince. He groaned, turning his head. You followed his gaze, seeing the guy from before looking down where Steve had been thrown. You stood, helping Sam up and following him up a set of stairs. With Steve out of commission temporarily and Bucky in a frenzy, the guy was the only hope of stopping everything.

"Can you try to stop him or trip him up?" Sam asked, rushing up the stairs.

"I can't see him and I'd rather not make this whole building collapse on accident." You replied, almost tripping over your own feet. Sam found an exit, following the crowd of people running.

"He looked like any other guy." You said, taking in deep breaths. Sam shot you a weird look.

"We just ran up like five flights of stairs." You breathed out, hands resting on your knees. At least the chilly weather provided some help. Sam noticed a jacket, jogging over and picking it up. You stumbled after him, looking it over.

"I really need some water." You whispered, lightly fanning yourself. Sam rolled his eyes, following the crowd of people. You sluggishly followed, giving him a small smile when he stopped by a shop to get you a bottle. He took out his phone as you drank half of it.

"Come on." Sam pulled you along, following direction and entering warehouse. Steve had Bucky laying against some machinery, unconscious and metal arm trapped in a wedge.

"You two okay?" Steve asked, looking you and Sam over with a concerned frown.

"Yeah.. Someone over here needs some more training." Sam glanced at you with a teasing smile. You rolled your eyes, licking your lips as you heard the sound of a helicopter.

"Could you ice over his arm?" Steve asked.

"He broke a stone wall. Ice won't hold him but sure, I'll do it." You shrugged, approaching the unconscious man. You licked your lips, splashing the rest of the water on the machinery and touching it after. The ice creeped down, covering over the metal arm. You looked at him, finally getting a proper look. He was handsome. Brown hair that barely reached his shoulders, facial hair just growing in, those icy blue eyes that either swirled with sadness or anger.

"You're giving him bedroom eyes again." Sam called, his voice echoing slightly. You clenched your jaw, looking at him.

"What? I can't admire something that looks nice?" You asked, watching his demeanor change. He looked alert yet amused. You frowned, looking back at Bucky and finding him staring right at you. You rolled your lips into your mouth, clearing your throat.

"God, that's so embarrassing." You whispered, speedwalking towards Sam as he cracked up. You ignored your burning face, arms crossing. Sam calmed down, wiping away a tear. Steve walked over, watching Bucky grunt and sit up. He looked at Steve, calling out his name in a hoarse voice.

"Which Bucky am I talking to?" Steve asked, staring at him intently. Bucky stayed silent for a moment before speaking.

"Your moms' name was Sarah... And you used to wear newspapers in your shoes." Bucky said, smiling softly. Steve relaxed, gaze softening.

"You don't read that in a magazine."

"Just like that we're supposed to be cool?" Sam asked, giving Steve a slightly wide eyed look.

"What did I do?" Bucky asked, looking between you, Steve, and Sam.

"Enough." Steve answered. Bucky shut his eyes tightly, shaking his head as he hung his head.

"I knew this would happen.." He whispered. "Everything HYDRA put inside of me is still there. All he had to do was say the god damn words."

"Who was he?"

"I don't know." Bucky answered, though you weren't sure if it was truthful or not. He didn't seem like the type to lie, at least not to Steve.

"People are dead. The guy did all that just to get ten minutes with you." Steve pointed out, watching his old best friend. Bucky looked defeated and confused. "I need you to do better than 'I don't know'."

"He wanted to know about Siberia. Where I was captain." Bucky said quietly, gaze flickering around as he tried to remember.

"He wanted to know exactly where."

"Why would he need to know that?" Bucky stayed silent, licking his lips as he stared at the ground. He looked at Steve.

"Cause I'm not the only Winter Solider." He revealed. You looked at Sam in confusion and surprise. Bucky was strong and deadly on his own but a whole army could overthrow governments all over the world.

"That's terrifying." You whispered, leaning against the wall and sliding down so you were sitting down. Steve chose to lean against the wall after letting Bucky's arm free.

"Who are they?" Steve asked as Bucky brushed some hair out of his face.

"Their most elite death squad. More kills than anyone in HYDRA history and that was before the serum." Bucky responded.

"They all turn out like you?" Sam asked. Bucky looked at him, swallowing.

"Worse."

"The doctor... Did he control them?" Steve tilted his head. Bucky looked down at his lap.

"Enough."

"Said he wanted to see an empire fall." Steve told you and Sam. Bucky looked up at his words.

"These guys could do it. They speak thirty languages, can hide in plain sight, infiltrate, assassinate. They could take a whole country down over night and you'd never see them coming."

"Color me impressed." You whispered, playing with the strings of the jacket you were given after getting to Berlin. Sam slowly walked towards Steve.

"This would've been a lot easier a week ago." Sam said quietly, arms crossing. You stood up, dusting off your pants and approaching them.

"If we told Tony-"

"He'd have him locked up." You cut off Steve, glancing back at him.

"Plus, he'd never believe us." Sam added.

"But if he did-"

"It wouldn't matter and who knows if the Accords would let us help him." Sam stared at him. Steve let out a defeated sigh, looking away from you and Sam.

"We're on our own."

"Not completely. Dad would help." You pointed out. Sam nodded, glancing at you.

"And, I know a guy." Sam said with a light shrug. You looked at him with a raised brow.

"You have friends?"

"I said I know him, not that we're friends but to answer your question, yes. I have friends that aren't you. Jealous?"

"Imaginary friends don't count."

~~~~~~~~~~

The drive was silent, Steve and Bucky occasionally reminiscing about the old days.

"On a scale of one to ten, how impressed is Clint gonna be when he sees you?" Sam asked. You smiled, letting out a chuckle as you watched the snowflake float inches above your hand.

"Probably an eleven, but he'll give me the typical dad speech infront of mom." You answered, lightly blowing on the snowflake and watching it disappear. Bucky turned his head to look at you. His muscular figure was semi cramped in the backseat. Steve picked the worst possible car to hijack.

"Hawkeye's your father?"

"Adoptive. He has a tendency of taking care of strays who once tried to take down the team." You told him, giving a small smile. Bucky hummed, nodding.

"Speaking of strays, how are you and Wanda?" Sam asked, glancing in the rearview mirror.

"Uhm, good? We're still good friends, even after the kiss." You shrugged lightly.

"Woah, kiss?" Steve repeated, brows raising.

"Yeah, we kissed but it felt.. Weird. There was no spark or overwhelming emotions. The love I have for her is the same love I have for Lila and the boys. She'll always be like a sister to me." You told them, glancing at Bucky. Bucky was still a bit on edge but you could tell he was trying to get adjusted.

"What are your powers?" Bucky asked, attempting to get comfortable in the car.

"I'm like the avatar, I guess."

"Who?" Bucky furrowed his brows. You blinked, lips parting as you stared at him. He was from the 1900s and worked for a criminal organization, obviously he wouldn't know a kids show from the 2000s.

"It's- It's from a show. An avatar is someone who controls all four elements and they basically save the world, I guess." You explained, growing a bit embarrassed at how silly it sounded. Bucky didn't seem to judge, giving a small smile.

"We could watch it together, if you want. It's a nice show." You offered, smiling. Sam raised his brows.

"Wonder what Clint will think about that." He muttered as Steve glanced at you and Bucky through the rearview mirror. You shot Sam a small glare, reaching out and touching the back of his neck with cold fingers. He hissed and leaned forward, pouting as he rubbed his neck.

"Yeah, I'd like that." Bucky said softly, nodding. You looked back at him, a smile appearing on your face. Bucky was incredibly attractive and you couldn't deny having a small growing crush on him but you didn't want to cross a boundary. He was from the 1900s afterall.

"How'd you end up fighting the Avengers?" Bucky asked, focusing all his attention onto you.

"The orphanage I grew up in threatened to kick me out since I had turned 18. I freaked and caused an accidental forest in the orphanage so the team was called." You told him, chuckling softly. Buckys' gaze softened, a hum leaving him.

"You've got some pretty cool powers, doll."

"Doll?" Steve and Sam repeated. A flustered smile appeared on your face, giggling softly. Bucky glanced at the two, wondering if he had crossed a line or said something wrong.

"Thanks." You looked forward, biting back an even bigger smile. You weren't completely sure if he was flirting or not but it was nice to get a compliment from an attractive guy, even if he had almost broken your friends' back an hour before. Steve slowly parked the car, getting out to greet Sharon.

"Could you move the seat up?" Bucky asked Sam, arm moving so it resting ontop of the carseats. His metal fingers lightly brushed against your hair but you weren't bothered by it.

"No." Sam replied. Bucky let out a deep sigh. You bit your bottom lip, looking at him.

"We can switch." You shrugged lightly.

"It's fine-"

"No, you shouldn't be squished back here." You faced him, feeling him gently grab your waist. He was incredibly gentle and cautious, moving you onto his lap briefly before he scooted to the side. You sat behind Sam, lightly kicking the seat. Sam moved it forward ever so slightly. You looked over at Steve and Sharon, blinking when they kissed.

"Oh? When did that happen?" You asked, brows furrowed. You knew there was some attraction between them but you didn't expect them to already be at the kissing stage.

"A while back, I think."

"Huh.." You whispered. Steve returned to the car with Sam's wings and his shield, putting them in the trunk. He drove to an airport parking lot, pulling up beside a van. You smiled widely, quickly getting out when Sam pulled the seat forward.

"Thanks for keeping my kid safe, Cap." Clint said, opening his arms as soon as he spotted you. You happily hugged him, feeling a sense of relief and safety wash over you.

"About time you started causing me trouble." Clint grinned as he pulled back. You noticed Wanda, pulling her into a hug as well.

"Saw it on the news. You okay?" She asked softly. You nodded, pulling back and brushing some of her red hair out of her face.

"Vision let you go easy?" You asked. Wanda shook her head, chuckling softly. Sam approached you, glancing back at Bucky.

"Might want to keep an eye on these two." Sam said, motioning to you and Bucky. Clint stared at him before looking turning to look at you. Wanda tilted her head, looking at you as well.

"You're such a dick." You muttered. You knew Sam was just being protective. He had always seen and treated you like a brother.

"Bad boy and older, huh? God, I hoping you had skipped those phases." Clint sighed heavily. You were partially suprised he hadn't mentioned or pointed out that Bucky was a guy. You hadn't really spoken about sexuality and attraction with him but knowing Clint, he'd be supportive about it.

"Not bad." Wanda said quietly, giggling softly as she smiled. You gave her a playful smile.

"I've got good taste."

[lokifantasies]

The Trial PART 1

Summary: The long awaited trial against Evan Nichols has started, and the foundation of the case against him has been laid out.

WARNING: GRAPHIC TORTURE AND SEXUAL ABUSE EXPLAINED.

Character(s): Loki, Thor, Jade, & Evan

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The trial is here. It's the day that your family has been waiting for since this whole nightmare started. Unfortunately, Loki and Jade are both adamant that you remain on bed rest for the sake of the growing baby, and you ultimately end up losing the argument when you try to force them to let you come. Loki assures you that he'll be by her side for the both of you – supporting her the entire time.

In the back of your mind, you know the stress of hearing and seeing the evidence would be too much for you, and no one wants to see anything happen to your baby. Thankfully, Thor also appears to support his niece and brother – sitting on Jade's right as Loki sits on her left.

"I don't wanna see him," Jade mutters – looking down to the floor when Evan walks into the courtroom with his parents.

The teenager looks like he's injured – his leg has a slight limp, and his eye is swollen and dark. However, the seventeen-year-old has a smug smile on his face – his ego being stroked when he sees the television cameras on him. He takes his seat in between his lawyers, and they group together to discuss something quietly. Loki, Thor, and Jade try their hardest to hear what they're saying, but they're speaking far too quietly.

"I don't understand how he could have a defense," Thor says to you and Loki. "How can anyone deny that he did what he did?"

You shrug. "I don't know, Uncle Thor. I just want this to be over with."

The prosecution begins their opening statement by laying out all the facts of the case and making it clear what Evan Nichols is being tried for. His charges are as follows:

- 1st degree aggravated kidnapping

- 1st degree sexual assault (with forcible penetration)

- 1st degree sodomy

- Conspiracy to commit a kidnapping

- Conspiracy to commit a felony

- Felony stalking

- Harassment

- Attempted murder

- False imprisonment

- Assault with a deadly weapon

The first few witnesses to testify are the first responders who saved Jade from the small space she was being held in.

"Could you please state your name for the court and how you became involved in this case?" the prosecutor, Mr. Jeff Bards, began to question the officer.

"Brian David Wilson. I'm an NYPD SWAT officer who responded to the 911 call to 4892 E Graves Road," the witness explains.

"What happened upon arriving at the address?"

The officer took a deep breath before speaking. "We, the SWAT team, forced our way inside the house, and we started searching. I began to hear some muffled pleas for help, and when I followed them, I came across the fake wall in the home's basement. After removing the fake wall, I discovered that there was a small crawl-space type room."

"Can you confirm what the photo on the screen is?" Mr. Bards asks – a photo of the tiny, dark space where Jade had been held showing up on the screen.

"Yes, that is the crawl-space," he confirms

"And where was Ms. Lokisdottir located?"

"She was located in the back corner of the crawl space. She came out from hiding when she saw me, and I pulled her out of the space," officer Wilson stops to take a deep breath and gather his thoughts – trying to push his feeling aside. "Afterward, I carried her out of the house and to the ambulance that was waiting outside."

There's silence as the officer exits the witness stand – looking towards Jade and Loki as he goes to take his seat in the rows. The other officers testify – stating similar things to what the first one did. Then, everyone hears the fateful words.

"The prosecution calls Jade Pandora Lokisdottir to the stand, please."

Loki and Thor wrap their arms around the shaking sixteen-year-old – remind her that they're right there, and if she needs to, just look at them and they'll help her.

"You can do this, my love," Loki says softly. "Just pretend you're having a conversation."

"Okay," Jade nervously breathes out.

Thor hugs his niece close before she stands up. "You are so strong, Jade...just like your parents. You got this."

Jade exhales and nods – trying to walk up to the witness stand without falling. On the way, she refuses to look at the defense's side of the courtroom – disgusted as to how anyone could defend Evan.

Oh well, everyone has a right to a defense.

For a moment, Jade looks towards Evan. A smirk appears on her face when she sees his injuries – wondering who she needs to thank for the revenge. Before Jade turns her attention away, Evan takes the chance to blow a kiss towards her – excited to watch the goddess relive the nightmare he put her through.

"Could you please state your name for the court?" the prosecutor asks – looking directly at Jade.

"Um," Jade's voice is soft against the microphone. "Jade...Pandora Lokis-Lokisdottir."

"And can you tell the court how you came to know the defendant?"

Jade takes a deep breath and exhales – looking towards Loki and Thor for support. "Ye-yes. Um, we met at the mall when my parents took me shopping before the school year started. That weekend, we went out on a date, and then we started dating."

"Were you and the defendant ever sexual?

"Not...really," Jade answers. "Um, we only ever had oral sex, but that's it. I wa-wasn't comfortable with ever going any further than that."

"So, there was never any consensual sexual intercourse?"

"No."

"How long were you and the defendant dating?"

"Four months."

"During that time, did the defendant act inappropriately towards you in any sort of way?"

Jade exhales. "Yes. The last night we hung out together, he tried to force himself on me, but he ran away and drove off when I yelled for my dad."

"Ms. Lokisdottir, can you walks us through the day of September 3rd?"

Jade shakes her head and exhales nervously – looking towards Loki and Thor for their support. This is the first time she's ever spoken about what happened to her, and hopefully, it'll be the last.

"I was...at school, and Evan told me he wanted to speak with me privately, so I followed him out into the parking lot to smoke marijuana and talk in his car. When we got to his car, though, he locked the doors, and he took off from the parking lot." Jade swallows hard before continuing. "Um...I begged for him to stop and turn around – just let me go back to school, and I wouldn't tell anyone. But he didn't. He kept driving – pulling a knife from under his driver's seat and holding it to my throat. I tried to do as he said – hoping that he'd let me go, but he never calmed down. When we arrived at his house, no one was home. H-he led me into the basement and pulled a dresser away from the wall. It was a secret room behind the wall, and he made me...uh...he made me take all of my clothes off, so I was completely nude. He put a collar around my neck, and he connected it to a bolt in the floor so that I couldn't move much. He left for, I guess a couple hours, and he left me in the dark room. I remember how cold it was. It was freezing...especially since I didn't have any clothes. When he came back, he started to...do things."

"Could you explain what things were done to you by the defendant?"

Jade's eyes begin to tear up – her breathing becoming staggered as she thinks about how to word the horrific abuse she had been put through. The looks of support from Loki and Thor, however, give her a strength that she didn't know she had.

"There was...a metal bar," Jade begins quietly – biting her bottom lip to keep her thoughts going. "He had a long lighter with him, and he started to heat the bar up. He was laughing when he pressed the hot metal to my thigh – smiling at me while I screamed in pain as my skin started to burn. There's still a burn scar on my left thigh. When the bar finally cooled down, he threw it to the side. He grabbed me by the chain leash and forced me down to my knees. With his other hand, he...took his penis out of his pants and pried by mouth open. He grabbed the back of my head and used my mouth to get himself off. No matter how much I cried, and begged, and pleaded, he didn't stop. He found it entertaining. It turned him on." Jade looks out to see Loki and Thor becoming angrier by the second, but they're trying their best to remain calm for Jade's sake – knowing that they need to be her support. "After he was...finished, he uh, forced me to lie on the dirty floor. I tried to keep my legs closed, but he punched me in the face, which caused me to jump. Before I could try to close my legs again, Evan had them spread, and he began to...force his mouth...on me. I felt his teeth bite me, and I knew I was bleeding, but it seemed to turn him on even more. H-h-he reached over and grabbed the metal rod again, and h...I'm sorry...can I just...a moment?"

"Take your time," the prosecutor assures Jade – maintaining a professional composure.

Jade exhales deeply – closing her eyes and trying to gather her courage to continue.

"H-he began to use the metal rod to...assault me. He shoved it inside me – giving me cuts and bruises. I was bleeding, but he continued to thrust it in and out of me until he was satisfied. I thought he would finally be done, and I thought he'd take me home, but then I felt him begin to...insert himself...his...penis...into me. I tried to kick him off, but he held my legs as tight as he could to stop me from moving. It...I'm pretty sure he was trying to cause me pain. Finally, I stopped fighting – wanting him to just hurry up and let me go. I tried to stop crying because I didn't want him to be anymore satisfied with himself, but when I felt his fingers start to go into...the other side, I started fighting again. He pulled me up by the chain, and he forced me to look into his eyes. I remember he said that I was now his slut, and he was going to break me until I learned to love it. After a couple of minutes...he...ejaculated into me, which later resulted in a pregnancy. Evan was still wanting more though, so he turned me over and held my face to the floor as he entered my backside. Again, ignoring my cries and screams for him to stop. I lost track of how many times he did this...I think I may have blacked out or something, or maybe my brain made me forget in order to protect me from the memory, but the next thing I remember was being alone, redressed, and I heard the police officers calling out for me."

"Thank you, Ms. Lokisdottir," the prosecutor says with a proud smile.

[winterscaptain]

intellectual guesswork.

Aaron Hotchner x Gender Neutral Reader

a/n: another ajf update that requires absolutely no context to enjoy! i love you all so much. send some extra love to your favorite writers this week :)

one quick thing - if you’re on my taglist, please consider dropping a reply or a reblog! i love to see what you all think, and it encourages me to keep going :) it’s also getting a bit long, and i want to make sure my mutuals and people who engage are seeing everything - tumblr sometimes has a hard time with a lot of mentions. 

words: 1.6k warnings: none!

summary: “ignorance of the law excuses no man - from practicing it.” - addison mizner. au!may 2008

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | ajf faq | taglist | what do you want to see next? edited: january 12th, 2021

You all settle into one row. Aaron’s on the end beside you, looking very sharp in a crisp black suit, his favorite Rolex, and a settled kind of confidence you’ve only seen in him a few times. It’s like he’s in his natural habitat. 

Aaron’s record as a federal prosecutor speaks for itself, of course, but you’ve never seen him in action. As often as they can, the bureau’s leadership sends him in as an expert witness. This time, the case happens to be one of yours. The judge hasn’t required a sequestration for Aaron, so you get the treat of sitting together in the courtroom. 

He’s scoffed and mumbled snide remarks under his breath all morning. You’re just itching to see him get up on the stand and give this joker an education. 

Emily leans over, whispering in your ear. “I promise you’ve never seen anything like this before. Hotch is going to rip this clown to shreds.” 

You stifle a laugh and look over at Aaron. He heard her. Leaning toward you, he murmurs, “All my JD does is collect dust. When I use it, I’d like to enjoy it.” 

“Your Honor, the prosecution would like to call our expert witness, Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner, to the stand.” 

He takes a breath and rises, buttoning his suit jacket and crossing the courtroom. His presence commands respect and everyone in the courtroom seems to shrink before him. 

The prosecution’s questions go over smoothly, and the defense attorney stands with an unreasonable amount of confidence. 

Emily leans over. “He thinks he can get Hotch with at least one of these questions, and he might. But just watch.” 

You nod, taking everything in. 

“So you’ve stated that it was your profile of the killer that led you and the police to my clients door that night.” 

“Behavioral analysis was a factor in our investigation, yes.” 

Without hesitation, the attorney follows up. “And was behavioral analysis also a factor in the Olympic Park bombings case in Atlanta?” 

“Yes, it was.” Aaron’s eyes and tone never waver, no hint of arrogance or cheek. 

“And was that suspect you identified,” the attorney asks, far too aggressively, “Richard Jewell, ever convicted of the bombings?”

The prosecution objects, and you watch Aaron. Every part of him observes the proceedings with an outwardly detached interest, but his eyes are alive - strategizing and anticipating. It’s like you can see the wheels turning as the lawyers bicker. 

 The judge ends the squabble. “I’ll allow it.”

Aaron, now with permission, answers simply, “No, he was not convicted.”

“Because he was innocent. Your profile led you to the wrong man.” 

Oh, give me a break. It takes everything in you not to scoff and you can feel Emily’s eye roll.

“Jewell was not the perpetrator, but if you look at the real Olympic Park Bomber, Eric Rudolph, you’ll see that our profile was dead-on.” 

Dead-on indeed, Aaron. 

“Well, how about we look at the Baton Rouge Killer? Your unit said that he was white and living in the city. He was Black and from the suburbs.”

Aaron’s eyes narrow and you feel Spencer shift beside you. Emily shakes her head. “Don’t worry,” she whispers. “He always recovers, never in the way you’d expect.” 

“How do you know?”

Emily’s face pulls into a little smile. “I’ve read the transcripts. Hotch is terribly clever.” 

“You said that Dennis Rader, the B.T.K. Killer,” the attorney continues, “was divorced and impotent. He turned out to be married with two kids.” 

JJ huffs, and you hear her whisper to Spencer, “Can we quit with the sermon?” 

His lips turn up. “Just wait.”

Dave leans over and stares them down over Derek. Stop talking. 

All of you look down at your hands like chastised children, but your gaze floats back to Aaron right away. 

The prosecution objects again, this time on the grounds of preaching. The judge forces a question, and the attorney turns back on Aaron.

“Having been wrong on those cases, isn’t it possible that you were wrong about Brian Matloff?” 

“No.” Your chest squeezes. He’s completely firm in his denial. 

How does he do that?

“Fact is,” the attorney continues like Aaron didn’t speak at all, “behavioral analysis is really just intellectual guesswork. You probably couldn’t tell me the color of my socks with any greater accuracy than a carnival psychic.” 

“Objection!” 

Her outburst is unnecessary. Aaron has a plan. His eyes track to you as if to check in. Are you paying attention? 

If you weren’t watching before, you’re certainly watching now. Always. 

“Withdrawn.” 

“Charcoal grey.” His flat assertion makes you gasp and you immediately cover your mouth with your hand to stifle the sound. 

The attorney turns around. “Well, look at that,” he exposes his socks to the court, and they are, in fact, charcoal grey. “He got one right.”

Aaron’s not finished. “You match them to the color of your suit to appear taller. You also wear lifts and you’ve had the soles of your shoes replaced. One might think you’re frugal, but in fact, you’re having financial difficulties.” 

You do your best to school your expression and remove your hand from your mouth. Checking down the row, you see six smirks watching the witness box. 

“You wear a fake Rolex…”

And you’d know. 

“...because you pawned the real one to pay your debts. My guess would be to a bookie.” 

Is he smiling?

“I took this case pro bono.” There’s tension in Mr. Charcoal Grey’s voice. You can hear it behind the false confidence and it pulls a smile from you. “I am one of the most successful criminal attorneys in the state.”

Hotch continues, completely bypassing him. “Your vice is horses.” There’s definitely a little smile on his face now. “Your Blackberry’s been buzzing on the table every twenty minutes, which happens to be the average time between posts from Colonial Downs. You’re getting race results.” Your smile gets wider, and Emily grabs your hand. 

“Just watch.”

“And every time you do, it affects your mood in court, and you’re not having a very good day.” There’s something that looks almost like concern on Aaron’s face, but you know it’s nothing if not facetious. He’s ripping this poor man to shreds without changing a single thing about his presentation.

I love - 

Don’t finish that thought. 

Why not?

Remember how he’s freshly divorced?

I know, but have you seen him?

“That’s because you pick horses the same way you practice law -” 

You lean forward and Emily follows, her thumbnail between her teeth. 

The final blow. 

“- by always taking the long shot.” 

If this was any other setting, you’re sure the entire team would be on their feet, shouting and jeering. But alas, you’re in court, so you settle for a wide smile and a suppressed laugh. Amused brown eyes meet yours from across the room and you shake your head just the tiniest bit. I can’t believe you.

His lips twitch. 

“Well, you spin a very good yarn, Agent, but as usual, you’ve proven nothing.” He’s just trying to recover something, anything left of his dignity. He fails, miserably. 

“If I’m not mistaken,” Aaron says, his eyebrows raised just a little, “the results from the fifth race should be coming through any minute.”

Just then, his Blackberry buzzes on the defense table. “Why don’t you tell us if your luck has changed?”

You raise your hands to your face to cool the rising heat in your cheeks. 

“Your honor, this is - “

The judge takes matters into his own hands. “What do you want me to do? Either show us your Blackberry or cut him loose, counselor.”

Hotch and the defense attorney share a loaded look. It’s a battle of wills. 

Aaron wins. 

“Nothing further.”

+++

When you all leave the courthouse, you practically latch onto Aaron’s arm, completely floored. 

“How did you do that?”

He laughs and Derek jumps up beside him, shaking his shoulders. “Come on, Hotch. That was incredible.” 

“Why have a law degree if you aren’t going to use it?”

+++

He offers you a ride home later that evening and you take him up on it. You’re both still in the car, idling in front of your house. 

“That really was impressive today,” you admit, your eyes on your hands.

You can feel his soft smile rather than see it. “Thanks. I know it didn’t quite go the way we wanted as far as the case itself, but there’s more to come.” 

“It’s never as bad as it looks in the first couple of days.” 

“Exactly.” He sighs. “Thanks again for being there today. It’s…” his lips twist as he thinks, “nice to have the team around.” 

You reach out, squeezing his forearm before immediately letting him go. “Of course. We’ll always be there for you. Plus, there’s nothing better than watching you tear blowhard lawyers to shreds in a court of law.” 

“I’m not sure that’s exactly how it went.” 

“You’re kidding!” You laugh. “That’s just what happened. The man left without half his soul! You absolutely tore it from his body.”

The pair of you quiet, and you move to get out of the car. He stops you with a hand over yours as you unclip your seatbelt. “Really. Thanks for being there today.” 

“I can’t emphasize this enough - it was my pleasure.” 

Enough of a pleasure as it was, his smile in the dark of the car is the best part of your day.  

+++

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[writefasttalkevenfaster]

Take My Hand (Part Two)

Summary: you thought it was enough, you thought it was what it deserved, but it wasn’t. it never was. (one of three four parts)

Pairings: Rafael Barba x Reader, Sonny Carisi x Reader

Word Count: 5,395

Song: I made you my temple, my mural, my sky / Now I'm begging for footnotes in the story of your life (tolerate it by taylor swift)

Warnings: T, implications of sex, so much angst, some swearing, 

A/N: again thank you to @bucky-of-the-opera​ and @qvid-pro-qvo​ but also @laneygthememequeen​ for giving me feedback and listening to me ramble as i continue to write this series. thank all of you for all of your wonderful comments/reblogs - every one gave me the motivation to keep writing! Also i made these timecards to account for the passage of time since we will be jumping through years quite a bit. 

“Why did we agree to  letting him shadow us again?” Rafael whispers to you, glancing at Sonny working at the conference table — his irritation evident, “it doesn’t give us a lot of time alone.” 

“Well, he’s a law student and a new detective, I’m trying to show him the ropes, and who's the one who got home late last night? Besides, he said he’d buy us coffee to thank us,” you lean away from him, nudging him, mouthing ‘be nice,’ “have you taken Criminal Procedure yet? Or Evidence?” 

“I’m taking Evidence right now, but this is nothing like learning about it in class,” he was flipping helping you root through the discovery that the defense had buried you in — a typical Buchanan maneuver, “Did you always think you would be a prosecutor?” 

You snort, “No,” and Rafael even looks up from his work, and you shake your head, “Well I thought I would go corporate at first, make some money to support myself, invest properly and then retire, but a year into doing that, I hated it. I ended up leaving without barely making a dent in my student loans.” 

“Ouch,” Sonny shook his head, “and you came here? Do you regret it?” 

“I’d be interested to hear the answer to this,” Rafael leans forward, resting his chin on his fist. 

You scoff at him, considering it — did you regret it? “I don’t,” you say, “although I’d be way less in debt, I wouldn’t be happy — I wouldn’t be helping victims, I wouldn’t be getting justice, and I wouldn’t be working with you two — “ Rafael’s gaze softens, “and here, I’m happy,” and you catch Rafael smiling at his desk, before adding, “except when Barba doesn’t get his coffee.” 

Sonny guffaws, trying and failing to hide it with a cough, “You want to get us some coffee, Fordham or are you too busy pulling a muscle from laughing?” 

“Alright, alright,” he holds his hands up in surrender, grabbing his jacket, before leaving, the office door swinging shut behind him. 

“Would it kill you to be a little nicer to him?” Rafael shrugs, rising from his desk, and wrapping his arms around you, “Raf—” 

“Better him than me, right?” he presses a kiss to your shoulder, “I liked it better when he had the mustache.” 

You laugh, shaking your head, as he sighs against the crook of your neck, “Just be nicer to him okay? He’s really trying here, and he’s a good detective.” 

“What’s with the sudden interest in Fordham?” 

You turn to face him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, “His name is Sonny, and he’s sweet — I’m trying to help him out, and you should too. He looks up to you.” 

“Lucky me,” you press a kiss to his lips, “it’s not fair when you do that—” 

You kiss him again, your tongue tasting him, his mouth following yours as you slipped away back into your seat, “Be nice.” 

“As long as you’re nice to me tonight,” he replies, just before Carisi returns, coffees in hand. 

“I hope the shadowing has been helpful, I know Rafael can be an ass—” you shrugged your jacket off, slinging it over your arm, walking beside Sonny, the detective insisting on walking you home. 

“Well he wouldn’t be Barba otherwise, would he?” and you snort, glancing at your phone to see a text from him — working, will be late. Your place? 

“Well you’re right about that,” you tucked your phone away, seeing Sonny run his fingers over his chin and mouth, “missing the stache?” 

“Not really, no, but Rollins made a remark that I looked better with it,” he bites his lips, stuffing his hands in his pockets, “what do you think?” 

You purse your lips in mock thought, holding your chin,  “No, I think I prefer this look,” you laughed, “You look good.” 

“Oh I look good? Really?” and he raises his eyebrows suggestively, and you bump him with your shoulder, “come on, counselor, you can’t play coy.” 

You step in front of him, “Oh yeah, definitely — you’re a real heart stealer,”Before turning on your heel and continuing to stroll, “do you want to grab a drink?” and you didn’t catch the way he was looking at you as you walked away from him — his eyes shining in the low light of the streetlights. 

“Yeah, I’d love to.” 

“We know this guy is guilty,” Amanda told you two, her arms crossed, “but we can’t get past his troop of lawyers to get anywhere close to his employees.” 

Liv leans back in her chair, “So, why don’t you two do your job and get this guy on charges for us?” 

You sigh, scrubbing a hand over your face, “You don’t know that for sure, Liv, and even if you did — it goes against the justice system to just entrap people without a fair process first. We can’t do our jobs, until you guys do yours—” 

“We can’t get more evidence until he’s indicted — he’s too smart, he won’t expect it, he’ll get sloppy,” Liv looks at Barba for support, and as do you, lips a thin line, and he sighs. 

“We’ll get a grand jury together, we’ll send out subpoenas, and see where we are at—” 

You gape at him, “Rafael—” 

“I don’t know counselor, this could be risky—” Carisi steps forward, brow furrowed, “Lieu, she has a point — we take this now, we wouldn’t get another shot at him.” 

“It’s a risk I’m willing to take,” Rafael waved him off, “book him, now.” 

Liv and Amanda left, while Sonny hung around his desk, as you pulled Rafael aside, “Rafael, you literally went over my head—” 

His eyes narrowed, “We need to build a case—” 

You scoffed, “SVU builds the case, we prosecute it — we’re not in the business of using indictments to get our evidence,” you looked around the precinct, eyes flitted away, and you pulled him into Liv’s office, shutting the door, “you undermined me, my opinion—” 

He says your name, “You know I value your opinion but—” 

“Not as much as Liv’s,” and it’s his turn to gape at you, “you know this case doesn't have enough — and you’re pushing it through anyway—” 

“SVU cases are not open and shut—” 

“No case is open and shut— otherwise, we wouldn’t have so many innocent people die of the death penalty would we?” you grit your teeth, “you handle this case — if you want to take a half-baked case to a grand jury I won’t stop you, but I won’t be cleaning up your messes either.” 

He calls after you, but you leave without another word, stepping into the elevator, the doors shutting until a hand stops them — but it isn’t Rafael, “Counselor,” he steps in after you, hitting the ground floor button — the doors shutting, “are you okay?” 

“I’m fine,” his eyes fell on your fisted phone, knuckles white. 

“Your phone would beg to disagree — you’re aboutta crack the screen with your grip,” and your cheeks burn, slipping the phone into your pocket, “you know Lieu has a tendency to become a little blinded when it comes to the victims, she—” 

“I know, Sonny, and most of the time I find that admirable about Liv, but it’s our jobs as prosecutors to bring justice — and that’s not just for the victims, but it’s for society,” your eyes look the ceiling, blinking away hot tears of frustration, “pushing through cases like this isn’t justice — it’s reckless,” the elevator doors ding open, and you slip through, expecting to be alone, but Sonny still follows out the doors of the precinct. 

“I get it,” you huff, slowing to a stop, “I do, really. I may be a cop, but I want to be a lawyer too, and to be one, you gotta see both sides, don’t you? But what do you do when things are gray?” 

“You search for the truth,” 

His lips twisted in a frown, he asks, “and if you can’t find it?” 

“Then you look for the closest thing to it, but this, a fishing expedition—” you shake your head, “this isn’t it.” 

He nods, jerking his head, “Come on, let’s grab a coffee,” 

“I should get—” 

He smiles, “I’m sure Barba won’t mind the extra time to lick his wounds, you really chewed him out,” 

You raised an eyebrow, “How much of our conversation did you hear?” 

“Not much after you went into the office, but it was still obviously heated,” you feel anger sting at your eyes, the heat rising in your body, and instead of fury — it came in tears, how convenient, “but for what it’s worth, I value your opinion a lot, counselor. And I know Barba does too,” he adds, and you follow as he leads you away from the precinct, “he’s just not showing it well.” 

You glanced at your phone — Going back to the office, can we talk? — “No,” you reply, “No he isn’t.” 

But did he ever? 

“Where’d you learn to cook anyway?” your legs were slung over Rafael’s lap one Sunday morning, as he fed you another forkful of the huevos rancheros he had made,  “I thought you lived off coffee and Forlini’s.” 

“Ha, ha,” he kissed you, licking the bit of sauce left on your lips, “well consider it my way of making up for what happened with the case. I am sorry about that, you know that right?” 

“I do,” you open your mouth and he feeds you another bite, “but don’t think I didn’t notice you dodging the question, Barba.” 

He purses his lips, “How about we just say I learned for you and leave at that?” 

You frowned, “Raf,” he fell silent, the gears in his head turning, “you don’t have to talk about it, but you don’t have to lie either.” 

He starts softly, even as he stabs the eggs with his fork, “When my dad went off on one of his tirades, Mami wasn’t in any shape to cook, and she wouldn’t want to ask Abuelita since that would involve telling her what happened — so I would cook for us.” 

You lean over, pressing a small kiss to his cheek, “You never talk about your father,” 

“What’s there to talk about?” he replies quietly, “he married my mom — he was amazing at first, and then just like that,” he snaps his fingers, “he changed. When they got married, he had permission to be the person he always was — angry, disgusting, abusive. He made her cut off everyone out of her life, made her miserable, abused her, abused me—” he cut off, setting the fork down with a clatter, “but still, I see him every day when I look in the mirror — and I wonder if I’m any better than him at all.” 

“Rafael, look at me,” you slide closer to him, your fingers intertwined with his, when you tilt his chin up, “you are not your father — far from it. You help victims get justice, you help them tell their stories, you are a good man, one of the best men I know.” 

He sniffs, a small smile on his lips, “Even when I don’t get my coffee?” 

You roll your eyes, shifting again so your knees are either side of his lap, sitting properly on him, wrapping your arms around his neck, “Even then — Raf, you are so good, I just wish you’d see it — I wish you’d see yourself.” 

He leans up to kiss you, gently, “Maybe I can see myself through you,” he murmurs against your lips, pressing his forehead to yours, and you sit in silence for a moment — in peace, before he finally breaks it, “I think it’s because of him that I’m so scared of us — I don’t want to be him.” 

“You could never be him—”  

“But you don’t know that,” he replies, his gaze falling to his lap, dark, as he shifts you softly off of him, “not really.” 

“Rafael—” he rises from the sofa, his back turned away from you, as he heads to the bathroom. 

“I need to shower.” And he leaves you there, without another word. 

“Working late again?” Sonny poked his head into his office, “it’s 2 AM counselor, isn’t anyone expecting you home?” 

You don’t look up from your work, “I could ask you the same — what are you doing here?” Sonny lifted his scarf off your bookshelf, folded neatly on top of some stacked books and briefs. 

“I just finished my shift at the precinct, and thought I’d drop by and see about picking this up,” he glanced at Rafael’s office, light closed, “No Barba?” 

“No, he headed home for the night,” more like you had insisted on him getting some sleep tonight, plying him with sweet kisses, until finally he left — but now you were left with the work to take care of, “I’m wrapping up some work,” you yawn, stretching, blinking at the detective still standing in your doorway, “aren’t you heading home?” 

“Yeah, I’m just waiting on you — the cases will be there in the mornin’,” he steps forward, offering you your coat, “come on.” 

You pout, “But I didn’t get what I said—” 

“Is it something that can be done tomorrow?” 

“Yes, but—” he shuts off your desk lamp, holding your coat out again. 

“I’ll walk you home,” and you sigh, looking between your work and his hand, before hauling yourself to your feet. 

It was not another ten minutes when your stomach started growling, to which Sonny raised an eyebrow, “Like to share something with the class?” 

Your cheeks burned, as you bite your bottom lip, “I may have forgotten to eat today,” and Sonny shook his head. 

“You don’t sleep, you don’t eat — do you and Barba just run on coffee?” 

“And spite,” you add with a shrug, “how do you get time to eat? You’re constantly running around all over the place.” 

“You have to make the time, whether that’s me eating in my car or taking a half hour to go grab a slice, maybe next time I’ll invite you along,” his hands slipped into his pockets. 

“I’d love to right now, but I am a little sick of takeout, and I think I rather crash at this point,” you rubbed at your eyes, “food can wait until tomorrow.” 

“You need to eat, counselor, or your stomach won’t let you,” his brow wrinkled in thought, “do you have anything at home?” 

“Nothing prepared, I have some things frozen, but nothing that’s ready—” 

“I’ll cook you something, dinner—” he glanced at his watch, “I think it's closer to breakfast at this point.” 

“Sonny, you don’t need to do that—” 

“I want to — to thank you for letting me shadow you and Barba,” his smile is so warm, “I assume he wasn’t too pleased with the idea at first.” 

“You don’t need to thank me — it’s fine—” you started, but he cut you off. 

“Are you hungry?” you pouted, as your stomach growled again, “Strike that, you are, and do you have the energy to cook?” 

“No, but—” 

“No buts, come on,” he clapped his hands together, you stood, biting your lip, “are you not okay with this?” 

“It’s not you, Sonny—” it was the concept of this — having a man over late at night, and you trusted Sonny, you did — he was your friend, but it felt misleading, “I just want you to know I’m seeing someone, kind of.” 

He raised an eyebrow, “Kind of?” 

“It’s not a relationship, but it kind of is — we’re keeping things casual for now,” you licked your dry lips, but your throat was a desert compared to it, “I just don’t want to mislead—” 

He cut you off, saying with your name, “It’s fine,” he offered a small smile, “I get it. Consider me friendzoned — now are you hungry or not?” 

“I am.” you hurried along in front of him, shivering in the cold, not noticing his smile slip from his face. 

“How did you learn to cook?” You were told to sit at your island, watching Sonny root through your fridge, “also, I’m sorry again for the state of my fridge, I’m not home a lot so—” 

“Trust me, I get it,” he pulls eggs, cheese, and a can of tomatoes from the fridge, “and I learned from my mother — she had her handful with my sisters, so sometimes I would cook with her or for her. I got used to it and I liked it.”

“Am I allowed to help or do I just watch?” he crossed his arms, evaluating you, making you sit up a bit straighter. 

“Have you ever poached eggs before?” your expression was enough of an answer, “how about you leave the heavy lifting to me and just do what I tell you.” 

“Yes sir,” and you missed him smiling at your cheeky reply, “What’s first?” 

“We both have the same weekday off?” you drop your purse and jacket on his chair, as he pulls you into his arms, “has that ever happened before?” 

“Not in what? Three years of working together?” he trails kisses down your neck, tugging at your collar, “we can’t waste it.” 

“What are you implying, counselor?” you say in mock surprise, as he walked you backwards, pressing you to the nearest wall. 

His eyes lidded and dark, as his fingers toyed with the buttons on your button up, “I’m implying that I want to spend the day f—” 

There was a knock on the door — both of your heads snapping over. You whispered, “were you expecting anyone?” 

“No?” he whispered back, “it might be someone from the squad, wait in the bedroom—” 

You rolled your eyes, as he strode over to the door, straightening his clothes, and adjusting himself noticeably, to which you snorted — earning you a sharp look over his shoulder,  before you slipped into the bedroom, door shut. 

You heard a woman’s voice speaking, heels clicking against the floor. You pressed your ear to the door, but there was no need because the voices grew louder,  “The bedroom is a mess, Mami,” 

Shit. 

There was nowhere to hide in here — but you didn’t want to come off looking rude either — you spotted Rafael’s headphones and a book on his bed stand. 

Well, oblivious is better than idiotic. 

You adjusted your clothes, sitting on the bed, playing music on your phone loudly, flipping the book open to a random page, just as the door opened, “Now, what could be so bad that you don’t want your own mother to—” She cut off, when she saw you, and you peered up, mouth agape — in fake (and real) astonishment, “well hello.” 

“Hi,” you slipped the headphones to your neck, before pulling them off, setting the book side, as you looked from a bewildered Rafael to his appraising mother, “you must be Rafael’s mother, Lucia,” you introduce yourself, holding out your hand, “I work with your son at his office.” 

She repeats your name, elbowing her son, “This is who you’re always talking about?” 

“Excuse me?” you raise an eyebrow at a flustered Rafael, the tips of his ears and bridge of his nose a beautiful red. 

“Mami, I think I neglected to tell you that—” 

“That you and your gorgeous co-worker here are seeing each other? It would seem so,” she slaps him lightly with her purse, before talking your hand warmly, “it’s very nice to meet you, dear. I apologize for my son’s lack of disclosure—” another pointed look at her son, “I wouldn’t have interrupted your day off together otherwise—imagine if I used the key you gave me.” 

Rafael blanched at the thought, his eyes desperately trying to apologize to you, but you kept your eyes on Lucia, “There’s no need to apologize, I’m sorry for surprising you—” you smiled, your nerves pushed to the very edge — imagine if she had walked a few minutes later, “is there something you need from Rafael?” 

“Not in particular, I was going to ask him if he wanted to join me for lunch— I just cooked his favorite, but now that I see he’s busy—” 

“No, you both should go,” you wave her off, “I don’t want to step on any plans—” 

“Why don’t you join us?” Lucia offered, elbowing her son, “if that’s okay with el juez here?” 

“Of course,” he cleared his throat, his smile sincere, “join us, if you want to.” 

Well how could you say no to that? 

“This is delicious, Lucia,” you and Rafael helped her pick up the table, insisting on her sitting, “thank you again for having me over. It means so much.” 

“I was happy to — my son’s personal life has always been a bit of mystery to me,” she walks over, pinching his cheek, “mijo has a mouth he doesn’t mind running except when it involves his personal life.” 

“Mami,” he warned, and she lifted her hands in surrender. 

“On that note, I’m going to wash up, and I’ll be right back,” you excused yourself to the bathroom, washing your hands, and just as you began to step out, you heard them whispering. 

“So what’s the story here, Rafi? You’ve been together for quite a while — any chance you’ll be popping the question anytime soon?” 

Your heart thumped against your ribcage, leaping out of your chest, “It’s not like that between us, Mami — we’re together but—” and your heart sunk in the same motion — down to the floor, “we’re not serious—” small smack and Rafael’s ‘ouch.’ 

“Do not be such an idiot that a keeper will wait for you this long — it’s a miracle you’ve been together this long,” you hear her sigh, “not serious? The way you look at each other? Rafi, not every person is Yelina—” 

“This isn’t about her,” he cuts her off, exasperated, as you rest your forehead against the trim of the bathroom door, “I know what I’m doing.” 

“You know what you’re doing,” she repeats, the clink of the dishes in the sink, “I hope you do, mijo, or you’ll regret it.” 

Regret, you thought, squeezing your eyes shut — you knew a little something about that, as you slipped from Lucia’s apartment, the door shutting behind you. 

There was urgent knocking on your door — and you placed your book down. Well, this was inevitable. 

You had been avoiding Rafael since the lunch with his mother — taking shifts and working out of your office. He had been texting and calling — you hadn’t been replying — the temptation regulated to the charger in the kitchen. He wanted to explain, he wanted to talk — but he always wanted to explain, he always wanted to talk. And he always talked his way back into your pants with plying words and sweet kisses. 

But now there was nothing more to be said. He left nothing else to be said. 

Even so, it wasn’t his fault entirely  — it was your fault for letting this get so far. 

And why had you let it get so far? That was the one question you couldn’t answer yourself. 

And now, you steeled yourself as you approached the door — you supposed he wanted to have it out in person. 

“Who is it?” you asked, arms crossed. 

“It’s Sonny,” you blinked, his voice unsteady and weak, as you threw open the door, finding him grim faced and dull, the color pulled from his face. 

“Sonny, what happened—” 

“Can I, uh, come in?” you stepped aside, letting him in, shutting the door behind you, and he didn’t sit down — or rather he couldn’t. He paced the length of the room, his eyes on the ground, arms across his chest. 

“Sonny?” you ask hesitantly, as you approach him, his back turned, “what’s wrong?” He faces you, tears streaming down his face, “Sonny—” 

“I’m sorry,” he blinks, wiping away the tears, “I’m fine, I shouldn’t’ve come here, I just—” his voice breaks, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows, “I didn’t know where to go.” 

“Sonny, stop, you can always come here,” you squeezes his shoulder gently, “sit down, please.” You lead him to the couch, spotting red specks of blood on his neck and on the collar of his shirt, “what happened?” and he tenses, “we don’t have to talk about it right now, okay?” he buries his face in his hands, elbows on his knees, hunched over, “let me get you some water—” 

“Look, I don’t need water — I just need—” he stammers, “please, just stay beside me, please?” 

And you did, your hand reaching for his, fingers slowly intertwining with his longer ones — even with how gentle Sonny was, with how he dwarfed you in size never failed to surprise you, but then again, he was always full of surprises, wasn’t he? His hand was warm and soft, engulfing with its heat, but trembled under your touch. You squeezed it every few minutes, the ones you sat in silence in, to remind him that you were still there — that he wasn’t alone. And you would never leave him to be alone. 

His first words were quiet in an already still room, “Barba has kept you updated on the Quinn Berris case right?” you nod — the woman who had been raped by her stalker, Ray Wilson. Wilson had been arrested by Sergeant Tom Coles four years ago, “We found out that Quinn wasn’t raped by Ray Wilson — it was Coles.” 

Your jaw dropped, “Coles did it—” 

“We went to his house, to confront him,” his voice shook as he spoke, his eyes hard, fixed on your carpet, but he was somewhere else now — back in Coles’ home, “I moved slowly, I did everything by the book, and I turned around, and he had his gun to my head.” 

“Sonny,” you squeezed his hand again, “what happened?” 

“I thought he was going to kill me,” he swallowed, his eyes unblinking, “I can still feel the metal brushing my forehead, following me as I put my gun down,” he leans back, arms crossed again, “I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t do anything. I could hear myself talking, but I didn’t know what I was saying — it was like everything was underwater. If Liv didn’t shoot him—”  

“But you’re okay, Sonny,” you pulled him closer, arm wrapped around his shoulder, “You’re alive.”

“He didn’t have to die,” he whispers, “he could have just surrendered.” 

“He didn’t want to, Sonny,” you shake your head, tears slipping down your cheeks, “he had lost everything, and he wanted to die — and he wanted someone else to go down with him. But you didn’t.”

“You know in the moment, I didn’t even pray,” he gives a bitter chuckle, “years of Catholic schooling and church, but in that moment all I could think of was my family, the squad, you,” he shakes his head, “I’m sorry for coming over and unloading this all on you — I didn’t mean—” 

“Don’t apologize,” you brush away your tears, your hands gently pulling him into a hug, “I’m just so glad you’re okay, Sonny.”  

He rested his chin on your shoulder, finally shutting his eyes for a moment, a peace washing over him for a moment, “Me too.” 

“Not a minute is promised, is it?” you whisper, pulling away, and he shakes his head. 

“Not a second,” and your thoughts fall away to your phone — to Rafael. It could have been him today — or any day. Was it worth holding a grudge, if it meant you wouldn’t see him again? That your last words to him were nothing but silence? 

“Let me get some water, Sonny,” and he nodded, leaning back on the couch, as you slipped away, grabbing a glass, as well as your phone. 

Rafael Barba: Mi amor, please, I’m sorry. Can we talk? 

You: I’m busy today, but tomorrow, we’ll talk. 

“We need to talk,” your office door opened — night had long fallen, the chatter and bustle of the office long died away in the darkness, the washed out fluorescent dimmers flickering in the halls — and there was only one person who would be opening your door right now. 

Rafael stood in your doorway, his knuckles white against the doorknob. Rafael’s brows knitted together, his mouth twisted in a scowl. You leaned back in your chair, raising an eyebrow, “not here.” 

“I can’t step away from this—” 

“You can make time for this,” he hisses, eyes narrowed, but you don’t budge, arms crossed, and he shuts your door, locking it, pulling the shutters down, “You went over my head.” 

You weren’t going to deny it, “I did,” you had went to Jack, talked to him about your concerns about the case you two had been handling together, another case slapped together that Rafael was trying to push through to trial — and you finally had enough, “You didn’t give me much of a choice—” 

“There was a choice — you could have talked to me—” you scoffed, flipping your file closed, “what is that supposed to mean?” 

“Rafael, you’re pushing through cases I don’t agree with — cases without enough information, forcing taxpayer dollars to be used on cases that will not succeed, and yes sometimes that’s necessary, sometimes we have bad cases, but sometimes you’re casting a stigma on people who end up being innocent—” 

“And sometimes casting a stigma is all we can do to warn other potential victims—” 

“And sometimes it just ruins someone’s reputation, and our own when we end up with lawsuits for damages,” you cross your arms, rounding your desk, “just because Liv coerces you into pushing through cases—” 

“Is that what this is about? That you’re jealous of Liv?” he snaps, and you laugh — a bitter noise you don't recognize, “I never thought you would ever let our personal problems affect your judgement.” 

“First of all,” your voice was an eerie calm, a deadly frigid cold permeated your words, “this has nothing to do with your personal life — this has to do with protecting the integrity of this office,” and it was his turn to scoff, "and second of all, what is there to be jealous of, Rafael?" you cross your arms, "We fuck — that’s it. Period. That’s all we are to each other. A warm body, nothing more and nothing less. You’re too busy saving the rest of the world to care.” and you wouldn’t allow your voice to crack, even though you could feel yourself crumbling with every word that you spit like venom — poisoning him and you from the inside out, “we're not serious,” you echo his words, a sinking feeling in your gut. 

“That was out of context—” 

“It’s not out of context when I heard the entire conversation, Rafael,” you shake your head, turning away from him, to look out your window — lights dotted the streets, the city very much alive with so many other places to be. 

His reply is quiet, “Is that all I am to you?” 

“I should be asking you that,” you sigh, clutching at your forehead, “no matter how much we talk about it — how much we try to fix it, we can’t. We can’t. Call this a failed experiment, call this nothing, say it never existed, it doesn’t matter. It’s done.” 

“No,” you shake your head, grabbing your jacket, brushing past him when he tries to stop you, his hand brushing your shoulder — and you knew what he would do again — ply you with kisses, whisper sweet lies that covered the bitter truth, patching shreds that fell to pieces—  “no, mi amor—” 

“Don’t call me that,” you whirl around, tears stinging at the corners of your eyes — but you hoped your words stung more, “don’t call me that when you never loved me.” 

And they did. 

He whispers your name, “Please—” 

“I can’t do this,” you shake him off, walking out the door, “not now.”

And maybe not ever. 

[mypoisonedvine]

Satisfied | Andy Barber x reader (chapter 3)

(chapter 1) (chapter 2) 

series summary: you’re the only lawyer in Boston who can get under Andy Barber’s skin, but you didn’t realise that he was trying to get under your clothes.  as is the nature of law, it’s only a matter of time before the truth is discovered.

word count: 4.3k

warnings: smut, rough sex, safewording, oral (f receiving), angst, non-linear storytelling/flashbacks

a/n: I wrote this series originally with my friend joyce, and after she deactivated some of the chapters were lost.  this series is long-since completed, but I’m reposting now so people can still read!

You stretched a little, eyes still closed to protect them from the blinding sunlight peeking in. Daylight had crept up on you, and it came quickly. You were sure that you had only fallen asleep a mere few minutes before you woke; muscles sore from overexertion. Letting out a groan, you shifted your body once again trying to get comfortable. 

Andy really did a number on your body and you needed a deep stretch to try and regain some control over your aching muscles. You turned and looked at him. Andy was peaceful. His brows were relaxed and his mouth was slightly agape. You hadn’t realized just how badly you missed seeing him like that. So much so that you caught yourself just in time. Your hand had almost reached his cheek before pulling back.

“Stop moving,” Andy mumbled from beside you. When you did not quit the shuffling, he groaned and wrapped his arms around your body, trapping you beneath his weight. 

It caused you to hesitate and freeze for a second. His body heat radiated onto your naked body. His skin against yours. Memories of the night before flooded your mind and it’s then that you realized that the feeling of his body was ingrained in your existence.

“Andy…” you whispered but he ignored you, snuggling back into the sheets instead. It felt almost domestic. And wrong. It felt really wrong. Maybe it was the fact that it reminded you of being young, and in love, again.

In love with Andy.

---

“We should do this again sometime,” Andy beamed as you got up off the bed and pulled your t-shirt back over your head from where it had been tossed onto the floor.  Ah yes, the telltale smile of a man who just got laid.

“Andy, I probably should’ve been more clear,” you admitted.  “I’m not looking for a relationship.  I’m too busy, and I’ve always felt that single women are taken more seriously in law school.”

You expected him to question it, but he nodded.  “Yeah, that is probably true.  Fucked up, but true.”

He hopped up and followed you before you could walk to the bathroom, turning you around with a hand on your shoulder.  “Does that mean that we can’t do this again?”

“Oh, we’re definitely going to do it again,” you grinned, biting your bottom lip.  “Just, not as boyfriend and girlfriend.”

He seemed happy enough with that answer, if not ecstatic. 

“But for now, I need to study, so get out of my room,” you chuckled, watching him redress with a satisfied smirk on your face.

---

Another party, another stupid performative social event, another red plastic cup with god knows what in it that you have no intention of actually drinking.  Or at least you had no intention when you walked in.

Andy was better at this.  People actually cheered when he came into the room— but admittedly he was also holding booze so, they might have been cheering for that.  But they were still happy to see him, and who wouldn’t be?  You were too, but you tried to hide it.  The company line was still that you two didn’t care much for each other, and it was… somewhat true, he still got on your nerves, but you undeniably had a soft spot for him.  Perhaps literally.

You decided you could pull him aside for a chat once, that wouldn’t be too suspicious.  But it couldn’t be right as he walked in, so you were basically just counting the minutes in your head until you could talk to him.  But then you were just trying to not get caught looking at him every 30 seconds.  How was he so… attractive?  Not just hot, but magnetic.  Guys jumped over to laugh with him.  Girls hung off his arm while he told hilarious stories.  And here you were, across the room staring because you didn’t want to be a part of his harem.

Speaking of harem, he seemed to have a new fan tonight, and she was hanging onto his every word.  You’d seen her around before— Jessie something, most likely short for Jessica but at the moment you decided it was short for Jezebel.  She was cute.  Gorgeous, actually.  One of those girls who looked like she just got up in the morning and brushed her hair and was already model-perfect.  You tried not to hate that about her, you tried not to hate her because she was just a beautiful girl talking with this amazing, charismatic guy and you had no reason to be mad at her because she was just— oh my fucking god did she just grab his bicep???  SKANK!

You left the party quickly after that, deciding you didn’t like the person you were becoming.  One of the many, many reasons you’d sworn not to get involved with guys in law school was because you knew how women could get defensive and territorial over men, and you were never going to prioritize getting dick over being a good feminist.  How had you already fallen so far?

You were grateful for the half-empty bottle of Fireball in your cupboard. It was to be your companion to drown out the sorrows. You hoped that it would be enough to make you forget what you saw. Especially the fact that Jezebel and Andy would have made a good couple. They looked good together. Not right. But good nonetheless.

---

“...the defendant clearly has the mental capacity for there to be mens rea. He should be prosecuted and I don’t understand how I am the only person that thinks so,” Andy tugged at his hair in frustration as you walked beside each other down the hall. “I think it’s ridiculous that--”

“Are you fucking that Jessie chick?” you suddenly interjected, trying (and failing) to curb the anger bubbling in your stomach. Andy’s eyebrows shot up and you felt a sense of dissatisfaction at the response. He proceeded to drag you into an empty classroom.

“You have no right to be jealous,” he reminded you firmly.  “We’re not dating.” 

“I know, I know. Who said that I’m jealous?” you frowned, but your voice was a lot higher than usual, “but that doesn’t mean I’m down to catch whatever cooties you get from her.”

“You think I’m gonna sleep with her?” he asked incredulously.

“Uh, yeah,” you retorted with a heavy layer of patriotism, “and everyone else thinks so, too.”

He reached out and cupped your face, tilting it up to make sure you were looking at him.  “Just because we’re not together… doesn’t mean I want anybody else.” He looked so sincere and sounded so soft that it took you aback. You had never expected Andy to say that. Ever.

“I… what?”

“Baby,” he sighed, and your heart tensed a little, “you’re the reason I’m not your boyfriend.  I don’t want to date anybody else, I don’t want to be with anybody else… you’re it.  Just you.”

“Oh,” you nodded with wide eyes.

“Are you… seeing other people?  Not that you can’t, I just… I didn’t think you were.”

“No, no,” you dismissed, “I only… no.”

“Then let’s make it official.  You have no reason to be jealous.  Be my girlfriend.”

“But I—”

“We don’t have to tell people,” he quickly backpedaled.  “I know you don’t want to be seen as half of a couple, or an extension of me or something.  But I wanna be able to call you my girlfriend.  Even if I can’t actually tell anybody about it.”

You looked at him, making sure he wasn’t joking or messing around before slowly nodding. His face lit up, “but we have to keep it on the down-low,” you reminded him quickly, to which he nodded.

“That we do. Verity would advocate for our expulsion if she knew.” Your eyes went wide with fear. Andy was right. It had the potential to completely decimate your career.

“Andy, we can’t tell anyone about this,” you whispered sharply, “especially now that we’re on a case together.”

“Calm down, baby,” he soothed. It was the first time he called you that since you became secretly-official and it sounded different now, somehow; it made your stomach flutter a little. “Trust me, I know, and it will be fine. Verity won’t find out.”

“Okay,” you nodded, believing him, “however, you really shouldn’t be calling Dr. Verity Woods, J.D. Esq. by her first name alone.”

“You don’t need to use her full name and title,” Andy laughs, “she said it’s fine to call her by her first name. You were there.”

“That I was. But it doesn’t feel right, especially since she’s leading the case.”

Andy shook his head and smiled. You really were something else but he needed it. He needed you. Even all of the crazy and particular aspects of your personality. “Speaking of her, I need to go to her office in—” Andy looked at his watch— “shit, 10 minutes.”

“Well, go, run,” you gestured at the door and Andy bolted out, not even having the time to peck your lips. You waited a few moments before leaving the room, not wanting to attract any attention.

---

“Hey, cupcake,” he cooed and then kissed your ear. Without having to look at him, you knew that he had a smug grin on his face and enjoyed the teasing.

“You eat one cupcake one time and suddenly it becomes your whole identity,” you groaned with a roll of your eyes. Andy’s body pressed up against yours and you tried to push him off but the warmth of his body was far too comforting.

“But you looked so cute when you got frosting on your nose,” he recalled.  

“Go away,” you giggled and squealed as Andy tickled you, “s-stop it.”

“Come on, cupcake, you can do better than that,” Andy continued to tickle you until you fell on the floor in a giggling heap, “all you have to do is let me call you cupcake.”

“Andy—” you squealed. “Barber, you better stop this right now!” Your stomach hurt from the laughter as his fingers dug into your waist making you scream.

“Come on, cupcake.”

“N-no!”

“Since that’s the case, I’ll just keep doing what I’m doing.” 

“Fine!  Fine,” you relented, “you win.”

---

You looked around the sterile reception as you took a seat on the plush sofa and looked out of the window. The California sun shone into the room illuminating everything in its path. You weren’t running away, you told yourself repeatedly. Maybe you would believe it at some point. It was simply that you needed a change of scenery.

One thing that you were sure of was that you were more than qualified for the job. And that should be enough. But it came at a cost. Your personal life. It had always been on the back-burner for you but you had to accept you had chosen the lonely path. 

Nobody had ever told you just how much you, as a woman, had to sacrifice to be successful. And so you learnt the hard way. Your friends told you that you had made your bed so you had to lie in it. They were not wrong but they did nothing to ease the vacancy in your heart. 

Flicking through one of the magazines on the table, you let it distract you from the ticking clock. It seemed that you were the only person that was there for the job which should have eased your nerves. But you haven’t always been the first choice. 

---

“Am I remembering correctly that you were valedictorian of your class?” the man across from you had your resume in front of him and was still unable to get it right. Maybe the job was not right for you. But it was a better offer than still being in Boston.

“Salutatorian,” you corrected coldly, gaze piercing. You tapped your nails on the table as the interviewer tried to regain his posture. 

“Oh, well,” he shrugged, “that’s still pretty good.”

Pretty good.  You didn’t believe in stuff like that.  There was greatness, and nothing else.  “Well, that’s the past,” you quickly shut off the conversation about your greatest failure and threw the man a tight-lipped smile.

“So,” he cleared his throat, “what makes you think that you will be suitable for the role?”

The fear left your system. You were sure of yourself. You were more than qualified. 

---

“Time to get up for breakfast,” Andy roused you from your sleep. You had no idea when you went back to sleep but it was your turn to groan. “Don’t make me wake you up; you won’t like that.”

“I’m tired. Leave me alone, Barber,” too tired and sore to really care about eating or the punishment. That being said, you were a little hungry after missing dinner.

“I know you’re sore so don’t make me wake you up,” he warned but you still refused to pay him any mind. That was your mistake as Andy ripped the covers from your body; exposing it to the chilly morning air. 

“What are you doing?” 

Andy didn’t respond. Instead, his face went to your core. “Fuck, you’re so pretty,” he cooed, “I think it’s time for you to wake up.” He licked a stripe across your sex and watched it glimmer in the light. Fisting the blankets beneath you, your back arched involuntarily.

You let out a breathy moan when he parted your folds to allow his tongue better access to your dripping cunt. He licked and explored your body like it was the first time he was given the privilege. 

“Taste so good,” his voice reverberated through your body sensing little shocks of pleasure through you. Andy suckled on your clit making you cry out. His beard scratched the soft skin of your inner thigh and your sensitive folds. The contrast of his soft, wet tongue and his rough beard made your eyes roll back.

“Andy,” you mewled, “please.”

“What do you want?” Andy taunted you. Your body kept moving; your hands tugging at the sheets. You needed him to do more. He was teasing you. “Words, my little fuckdoll.”

You were unable to form any coherent sentences when Andy had such control over your body. He inserted one finger into your aching core, massaging your walls. “You have to use your words or I’ll stop now seeing as you’re awake.”

“No,” you rushed out. “P-please let me come.” You had no dignity left but you were too far gone to care. You needed Andy’s mouth and fingers too badly. 

“Well,” Andy clicked his tongue as his lips curled into a smile, “since you asked so nicely...”

---

Unable to find your clothes fast enough, you found a discarded Harvard sweatshirt of his and slipped it on, smiling to yourself at the bagginess. Looking down at the left sleeve, you realized that it was the same one you wore when you were dating. It made you feel a little nostalgic. The sweatshirt was practically yours.

You emerged from the bedroom to find him in the kitchen with an apron on-- why the fuck did he own an apron?-- and messing around at the stove.  He must have heard you enter because he turned to you with a smile.

“Huevos rancheros!” he announced with a smile, lifting the pan for you to see.

You looked to him, and the pan of eggs, and around his stylish condo worthy of an ADA’s inflated salary, and shivered with the overwhelming sense of ‘wrong’. That was even in spite of your rumbling stomach. “Andy, stop, this is all too much. Too domestic,” you whispered, unable to look at Andy when you said it.

“Don’t say that. Don’t say things like that,” Andy pleaded, “I just want to see you.”

“What do you mean?” 

“Exactly what I said. I want to see you.”

“You’ve seen me before.”

“But I can’t remember the last time that I saw the real you,” Andy’s words made your stomach turn. “I don’t know the last time I saw the you that I fell in love with all those years ago.”

“She doesn’t exist anymore, Andy,” you whispered, “you need to let her go.  God knows I did.”

“No, she’s not. I don’t believe that,” he argued; heart breaking by the second, “she’s still there, I’m certain of that. You wouldn’t end up here so often if she doesn’t exist. And you wouldn’t be so upset about not being valedictorian.”

“We shouldn’t keep doing this, Andy,” you decided with a sigh as you found your purse and attempted to gather your things.  Where the fuck were your clothes again?

“No. You don’t get to say that,” he raised his voice, shedding his apron as he left the kitchen, “you can’t just waltz back into my life and keep... taking. It’s not fair.”

“Taking?  I’m not taking anything, you’re throwing yourself on me!  I don’t know what you want from me, Andy,” you sighed, placing your purse on the sofa.

“The same thing that I’ve always wanted.”

“Maybe it’s not what I want,” you lied through your teeth. “Have you ever thought about that?”

“Then why do you keep coming back?” Andy’s voice cracked. You knew that you were hurting him. And yourself. But there was no other way. 

“Because I love being humiliated, and you are the most embarrassing thing I could possibly be involved with.  Because you already know all my fucked up kinky shit and I’d rather keep the number of people who know that down to a minimum.  Because when I walk home after seeing you I feel fucking sick to my stomach and filthy and stupid and I like it.  Because I love the way that fucking you makes me hate myself.”

“I’m used to you lying to me, but I think now’s a good time for you to stop lying to yourself,” he shouted, the vein in his neck appearing.  You were shocked to realize that you had actually hurt him. Badly.  “Actually, it’s more than overdue. You’ve been doing it for what? Ten years?”

 “Why can’t you just admit to yourself that you want this?” He pointed at the house, and then himself. “That you want me.” His voice was so strained that you felt a little guilty.

“I don’t want you.”

“That’s not the impression I got last night. Or this morning. You were just begging for me.”

Something about arguing with him was so erotic.  Was that a strange thing to think?  It certainly made court a lot more interesting.  And now you found your gaze trailing greedily over his body and as it met his eyes once more, you saw that he knew what you wanted.  That you were falling back into this cycle again.

“If you want me to want you again,” you hissed, “you’re gonna have to make me beg, aren’t you?”

He slammed into you, tossing you down onto the sofa as he slid his own sweatshirt up your body, latching his lips onto your nipple which was embarrassingly already hard.

“You say it like I’ve not been making you beg since you were twenty-two,” he growled, teeth grazing your sensitive skin.

“I can’t seem to remember that.”

“Well I guess it’s time for me to remind you, then,” he swiped a finger across your (already wet) folds and looked at his slick-coated fingers with pride. He had always loved the way you glistened on his skin.

He pushed your back down until you arched it for him.  “Get that ass up, baby.”  You moaned when he slapped your ass quickly, tugging on your hair to arch your back even further.  “Want me to put this cock in you?”

“Please,” you whimpered.

“You can do better than that,” he tutted disappointedly.

You stopped yourself from responding because you knew you would say more than you should.  He leaned down and pressed his lips right against your ear.

“We both know it, just say it,” he encouraged in a low voice.

“Fuck you,” you hissed.  He slipped his hand around your neck and tightened until your face tingled from the loss of blood.

“Don’t say anything until you’re ready to be honest,” he instructed, finally slipping his cock into you— and even though you couldn’t breathe or moan or speak, you managed to react plenty strongly to the feeling anyways.  You were outrageously sore from a long night of fucking and the pain burned just the right way.

He began to move his hips, each time, the base of his cock would brush against your overstimulated clit. Each thrust hitting that one place that made your body quiver. But then it got a bit too much. The stretch and burn of his cock and the hand around your throat.

“Objection!” you yelped your safeword, and instantly he stilled, slipping his arms around you and holding you close.  Tears started to pour against your will.  “I’m sorry,” you whimpered. “I can’t believe that after all this time you still remembered…”

“Never apologize,” he hushed, kissing your shoulder.  “I went too hard on you. And I could never forget a safeword like that,” he laughed softly.

“No, no, I just… I got a little overwhelmed.  It’s not your fault.”

“Do you want a glass of water?” he asked lightly.  “I’ll help you get dressed…”

“No, stay,” you requested.

“Okay,” he nodded, a little surprised.  “Tell me how to help you.”

“Just hold me,” you shivered, “like you used to.  Back when you liked me.”

He chuckled.  “I like you.  Even now; I always have… especially when you didn’t think that I did.”

“We’ll see if you say that in court tomorrow.”

“Almost certainly will not,” he admitted, eliciting a small smile from you.

He pulled you down to lay on his chest as he relaxed into the sofa.  His fingers delicately ran along your skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake, and you let your breathing steady back to normal as your eyes fell shut. 

You looked up at him after a while and appreciated the peaceful look on his face.  It wasn’t something you saw on him often, since you were always pissing him off.  Maybe that was why you liked getting on his nerves so much; because when you saw him like this, happy, you remembered feelings you wanted to forget.  But there was also a part of you that just wanted him to feel something about you when he saw you.  The opposite of love is not hate but indifference… and even if you didn’t want him to love you, and knew that he could never love you again, you couldn’t live with indifference. 

You sat up and he looked at you but you said nothing, just leaning down and kissing him again.  He kissed you back, slipping his hand around the back of your neck to hold you close.  His breathing against your face began to speed up a bit as you straddled him with your legs, rubbing your hips along his again.

“You’re sure you’re okay?” he asked softly as you reached down to guide his cock into you one more time. You closed your eyes briefly.

“I’m sure that I’m not okay,” you responded as you moved your hips down and felt him slip inside you, “but I need you right now.”

He nodded and you sat up to plunge yourself down onto his cock, moaning as his length reached deeper into you than normal from this angle.  His hands gripped your hips tightly, not out of any sense of dominance but simply his reaction to the feeling of you as you began to ride him.  You were slow at first, balancing yourself on his chest, but it wasn’t too long until you were bouncing with abandon, moaning his name over and over while he watched you closely.

Your hand fell to his chest and you felt his heartbeat, strong and steady.  You wished you could be so strong as that.  You wished you could be so stable.  

He sat up suddenly, looking at you with a hint of concern.  He must have seen the fear on your face.  He pulled you closer and you still, instead letting him grind deeper into you as he held your face in his hands.

“So beautiful,” he whispered reverently, kissing your collarbone lightly.

“Andy…” you sighed, another tear falling but for an entirely different reason.

“So perfect,” he continued, kisses trailing to your neck.  He wrapped you in his arms and you both moved together in a way that didn’t feel like what you were used to at all.  Your orgasm came and went with only a stuttered gasp but he felt it and praised you all along the way, made some promises he couldn’t keep, said some things you elected to ignore.  

You fell asleep together and stayed that way well into the afternoon, not having gotten the most effective night’s sleep beforehand.  When you woke up to golden light on your face and a snoring Andy Barber, you gave him a quick, tight hug before you got up, finally recovered your clothes, and grabbed the handle of his door.  Something stopped you, though you couldn’t be sure what, and you looked back to watch him on the couch again.  You found yourself setting your purse down and undressing again, trading the wrinkled suit for that stupid Harvard hoodie, and slipping back under his arm on the couch.  You weren’t very tired anymore so you watched him sleep for a bit, running your fingers through his hair and scratching his scalp.  You remembered him liking that before, you hoped he hadn’t changed his mind.  It was a familiar feeling, safe feeling, one that you hadn’t felt in so long.  You couldn’t think about what would happen tomorrow, what had happened yesterday.  You just let yourself swim in the comfort of him for a little while longer.

(next chapter)

[raguna-blade]

Persona 5, Makoto, And Cops

So, like...We can all agree that it's weird that Makoto want's to be a cop in the game right? Aside from general cop bastardry irl, there's like precisely one police officer in the entirety of P5 who's at all a clear cut good guy and even he basically just says out and out, super explicitly that the cops are like...Not great.

At BEST, at BEST, they ensure the laws are followed, but that doesn't always equate to justice being served, and it is hilariously easy for them to be made into tools of opression, and to be made into stooges of people who want to do wrong.

Like Zenkichi out and out says “You really shouldn't be a cop.”

But Makoto still want's to be, despite knowing this, despite agreeing with this, and it's a weird gap right? Of perhaps everyone in the group, she should know best how following the rules and laws can lead to people doing pretty screwed up things if her little stint stalking and then blackmailing joker and company.

And she's just a student council president you know? It's not like she has anywhere near the same authority as a police officer, and unlike Chie who (for sake of argument here) has pretty objectively Upstanding Excellent Cops in her neighborhood except for you know the one who decidedly wasn't but P4 isn't really dealing with Laws and their problems, so them not leaning into law enforcement is a problem makes sense. Dojima is a just dude trying to do his best and even here the only other cop of note is uh...A straight up monster who abused his position of authority to get away with terrible things.

But back to P5, like...The game isn't subtle about it's feelings about law enforcement. Every Single Shadow is represented in the field by varying kinds of law enforcement operative types. Guards, knights, actual cops, prison wardens, etc etc. The Ultimate Big Bad basically posits that humans can't follow the rules and for that need to be severely punished and so laws and rules more or less end up being the big bad foe here.

The motivation to be a cop is well...Painted as whole heartedly misguided at best. We never get to know anything about Makoto's dad, and he's her inspiration for that goal, but at the same time, we get to see the other daughter who I think it's safe to say ALSO had him as something of a goal and...Sae also doesn't exactly come off as a perfect avatar of justice here either.

She very clearly WANTS to be, no doubt, and the massive shock of the games events does change her trajectory, but she's been deep down in the swamp of the system and she knows intimately that well...It's a shit show at best.

So i'm circling back to it as...Why? What's the deal here with what the game is going for theme wise? The idea of internal reform I suppose is being suggested, but the game's also make it remarkably clear that that actually won't work.

I'd say even textually, not even dipping into subtext, the game is out and out saying that you cannot reform a system from the inside like that when it's that far gone. Between P5 and P5S it's made abundantly clear that even what is functionally in a metaphysical sense a hard system check of things going out of whack law wise like the phantom thieves (what with their flipping of the table) they can't actually solve the problems of the system itself being super fucked. At best they can stop it from going full on malignant, but the cancer is still there. If the people don't actually band together to overturn things that are broken, especially when it is well within their hands to do, it's not going to improve, it's not going to get better. It's a delaying action at best.

Like the Phantom Thieves can't save everyone. Akira Konoe bluntly makes it clear when he asks them and the PT can only really go...No we can't. If we knew sure, but we don't possess the ability to do that. It's outside our ability entirely to do so for everyone.

So...Back to Makoto then. It's abundantly clear, I think, that she's very much of the mold of she want's to be a cop to protect people. That's what the job description is, even if that's not what it is in reality. And I think we can at least say that she's not so naive by this point to think that if she goes in she's going to be able to reform things, not by herself. It's worth noting that her intended goal is to become a Police Commisioner, and basically form her own police branch under her rules and regulations which...Fair. Fine. There's something to be said for being an apt demonstration but it doesn't actually fix the problem at it's core does it?

Which I think pushes this into the funky grey area of things because I don't think she's precisely...Wrong to want to do this. As stated, I think the games make it abundantly clear that one person on their own can't make radical and deep changes. You need people and momentum and everyone willing to work and all that.

Certainly, I think, it would be tremendously easier to reform an organization if someone in that organization is willing to make calls against what they're doing presently. But by the same token, it's also clear if you're entering an organization to try and change that organization it's uh...Not precisely a good bet. Now there's something to be said for being willing to try it I think. While the game doesn't exactly indicate how it'll go, we can imagine that following the events of the game that Makoto wouldn't be crushed under the weight of it all and change for the worse....Though the question of if she'd be able to make her goals a reality are a different question. She has allies in that fight for sure, between Zenkichi, Sae, and (from all indications) Kaburagi, there is at least some element of reform at play, but it's also well...

The big ass conspiracy didn't exactly come out of nowhere no? And the cops at every level more or less were compromised to some level or another, and this includes these prospective allies.

But then, I guess this goes back to the Phantom Thieves themselves. They're not able to actually fundamentally fix the problems at play. They stop the worst excesses certainly, the most terminal aspects of it, although in doing so they are very nearly destroyed outright and with barely a thought. In that spirit, Of doing what you can with what you can it changes the read on the decision at least somewhat.

The Daughter of a well decorated cop, sister of a particularly well known ex prosecuter now defense lawyer, in addition to being a top honor student type, certainly gives her a bit more leverage to attack the problem, especially in the sense of getting into a position to actually change things. To say nothing of Joanna.

Taking her awakening quote into consideration

"Have you decided to tread the path of strife...? Very well. Let us proceed with our contract at once. I am thou, thou art I... You have finally found your own justice... Please... Never lose sight of it again. This memorable day marks your graduation from your false self..."

and the general story the game presents of Joanna as one who rose to the top of the organization she was in and shook it to it's core (doesn't particularly matter how true that is in reality, merely what the game says for this instance) it's clear that indeed that's her gambit, if not the specific trickster archetype she's supposed to embody (as opposed to Joker's completely outside the law rogue, Anne's Femme Fatale, or Morganna's Layabout by Day Vigilante by Night as off the cuff examples), of someone who appeared to all eyes to be a harmless simple part of the system until it was simply too late for them to do anything about it.

There is a solid arc there, and a story to be told, and I think in that light makes the continued ambition make sense especially given what we're shown of well...Uh, everything to do with law enforcement in P5.

Now if they actually communicated that idea WELL is um...probably a different story. I think it's there to see, but I can easily see this being overlooked if this was the actual intent. Though, thinking about it, the way the various trickster archetypes are shown to function isn't quite as clear as it could be, though I think there's something to say for looking into that.

Later though.

[renegadewangs]

Van Zieks - the Examination, part 6

Warnings: SPOILERS for The Great Ace Attorney: Chronicles. Additional warning for racist sentiments uttered by fictional characters (and screencaps to show these sentiments).

Disclaimer: (see Part 1 for the more detailed disclaimer.) - These posts are not meant to be taken as fact. Everything I’m outlining stems from my own views and experiences. If you believe that I’ve missed or misinterpreted something, please let me know so I can edit the post accordingly. -The purpose of these posts is an analysis, nothing more. Please do not come into these posts expecting me to either defend Barok van Zieks from haters, nor expecting me to encourage the hatred. - I’m using the Western release of The Great Ace Attorney Chronicles for these posts, but may refer to the original Japanese dialogue of Dai Gyakuten Saiban if needed to compare what’s said. This also means I’m using the localized names and localized romanization of the names to stay consistent. -It doesn’t matter one bit to me whether you like Barok van Zieks or dislike him. However, I will ask that everyone who comments refrains from attacking real, actual people.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

And here we have the second half of The Unspeakable Story, because the case was so long I had to split it into two.

Episode 5: The Unspeakable Story – Part 2

When we last left off, Gina was allowed to testify about the omnibus murder two months ago. Sure enough, she talks about what really happened and how she was threatened into lying in court of law. The judge realizes that he made a grave error in letting McGilded walk. Again, I'm not sure why he's only realizing this now when that trial ended in disarray, with the entire gallery shouting about whether it was or wasn't a gross miscarriage of justice.

I'm giving Van Zieks an additional scumbag point for this remark, since Ryu had already admitted to his wrongdoing and, despite Van Zieks's repeated warnings of 'are you sure about this', brought the details of the falsified testimony up himself. Don't pretend to be understanding about the position this puts Ryu in if you're going to be a jerk about it afterwards, Van Zieks.

Some shenanigans and Gregson whispering to Graydon later, Scotland Yard returns with the small box! Turns out it's a music box! When suggested that the court should listen to the music on the disc, Gregson interjects and unconvincingly claims the music box and disc are unrelated to the case. Ryu objects to say that the disc is fundamentally important for understanding the motives of the crime and Van Zieks, on his own accord, chimes in that the prosecution has no objections. When Gregson continues to stammer that the disc is police property, Van Zieks says:

“But it is policy of this prosecutor to leave no avenues unexplored. And you, Inspector, have no jurisdiction here to prevent that from happening.”

So Gregson and Van Zieks are definitely not buddies. Since Gregson is a key player in this case (and I mean that in a negative way, since Gregson is actively hiding important knowledge from the court), the fact that Van Zieks is turning a deaf ear to his pleas does in fact make Van Zieks an accomplice of ours in a roundabout way. Only for this particular context, though. The point is, so long as the prosecution continues to agree with the defense about unveiling key pieces of evidence, Van Zieks is helping Ryu achieve his ultimate goal. Also it's just plain fun to watch Gregson panic. We're having a jolly old time in this courtroom!

Unfortunately, when the box is played, there's no music. It's just weird tones. So Ryu is confronted with the question of whether the music box's sounds are relevant to the case or not. Naturally, I chose that they aren't relevant to see what would happen. I don't know why I expected any different than this:

“When you speak, you must mean what you say. ...Or be prepared to suffer the consequences.”

Penalty from Van Zieks! He's right though, I never learn. Okay, so let's say the tones are relevant. Van Zieks jumps onto that like a cat pouncing on a mouse toy, of course. He wants to know just what that relevance is. Ryu says that the chimes aren't necessarily music, and Van Zieks pursues relentlessly. “Well, now that you've told us what they are not, I'm sure the court would like to hear what they are. Do enlighten us, my Nipponese friend.” This is all very standard fare, of course. In any Ace Attorney game, the player has to outline their reasoning in steps, which means the prosecution and/or the judge will continue to ask for elaboration until all the details are out in the open. Of course, Van Zieks has to be a jerk about it as he follows it up with the words “Surely you have an idea in mind? Because if not... It will be the death of your ill-formed argument!” Eesh. Harsh wording for such a simple concept of 'your argument is void if you don't tell us exactly what you mean'. What's bothersome about these moments is that often, the player already has an exact idea in mind, but the game's dialogue will beat around the bush a bit more and really rub it in. (example: Iris telling Ryu at this very moment that the music box isn't broken at all and it's meant to play these particular chimes.) But because the player isn't given the option to just figure this out for themselves and then gets scolded by the prosecution for 'taking too long', naturally the player may get frustrated.

I'm getting there! SHEESH! It's not my fault Iris is distracting me! I had the evidence ready to present like two minutes ago!

Anyway, Ryu finally links the chimes to government messages being intercepted and leaked to other countries. These messages are usually telegraphed in morse code, so it should be obvious where Ryu's going with this. Van Zieks looks horrified at the notion of the disc containing secrets in morse code. Still, alongside Ryu he works through the logic of what happened and how McGilded would've been involved in this. Graydon, who works at a telegraph office, is of course the prime suspect for intercepting those secrets and that's the reason why he broke into the pawn shop to recover the disc. Graydon is outraged by the accusation, saying “I've had to stand here in silence while that pretentious foreign lawyer has been prattling away!”, but Van Zieks cuts him off with an objection.

“The prosecution demands the witness testifies... in response to the accusations brought by the defense!”

It's Mrs. Garrideb all over again! Yes! So just to reiterate, the prosecution has nothing to gain by doing this, the way I see it. Ryu can't actively prove any of his theories, he's got no hard evidence. The only thing Ryu can do at this point is have Graydon testify and hope that he'll slip up; and Van Zieks is supporting this notion instead of demanding to see this currently non-existent evidence. So Graydon testifies, the topic of morse code comes up again, and we get a lesson in the basics of how it works with the dots and the dashes.

Surely it can't be that a prosecutor in an Ace Attorney game is being passive aggressive again? Anyway, turns out the music box doesn't play morse code at all because instead of dots and dashes, there's only one of the two. The testimony continues on to address that Graydon's last name used to be Milverton, a fact which causes Graydon to react very heavily and attempt to deny it. Van Zieks subtly reminds him that this effort is futile, since Graydon is a communications officer attached to civil service. His personal details would've been thoroughly checked when he was appointed to his position.

I enjoy it when Van Zieks finally gets turned around to point his sharp finger and sharp words towards people who actually deserve it. Yes, he's ferocious and a somewhat horrible person, but Graydon had this coming for being, y'know, a literal murderer who tried to frame a teenage girl. Van Zieks even reminds Graydon of the same sentiment (“it would really take no time at all for the court to subpoena those records”) later when Graydon continues to deny that Mason Milverton was his father. Good boy, Van Zieks. You're learning that not all British citizens are upstanding and it's okay to accuse some of them of wrongdoing. Because remember, in earlier trials when Ryu would indirectly accuse witnesses (or juror no 4) of lying or criminal activity, Van Zieks would overreact with an “HOW DARE YOU, SIR” of sorts. But not this time, oh no. How dared Graydon?

So with the relation between Graydon and the victim of the omnibus murder proven, we've made headway, but still not enough. So long as the music box chimes seem irrelevant, we don't have the full story to pin Graydon down for anything. For this reason, Ryu gets back on that topic and insists it's very much possible for the disc to contain secret messages. Van Zieks is still not quite convinced.

Covering his insecurities with fancy speech, I see. Van Zieks can act as smart as he wants, but the brutal truth of the matter will always be that he's not smart enough to take evidence in his own two hands and flip it over or open it up. Ryu's the only one who takes the practical approach, opens the bottom and finds out that the music box can actually play two discs at the same time. One for dots and one for dashes, which means there's a second disc out there. So with this out in the open, it's time for everyone's favorite type of Ace Attorney tennis: The back and forth truth reveal! Ryu and Van Zieks take turns in detailing the chronology of Graydon's illegal dealings with McGilded, with negotiations apparently turning sour in the omnibus two months ago, and thus the brickmaker met his end. McGilded attempted to hide the stolen disc by sticking it in his coat and pawning it at the pawnshop, but Graydon found out about this, etc. We've all played the case, we all know the story.

Graydon ultimately admits to having been at the crime scene that night, but still refuses to admit he worked with McGilded or stole government secrets. (Okay okay, ALBA, your denial is too powerful to let this game end, have it your way.) Ryu surmises that only Graydon could have shot Windibank, as he would've been the third intruder holding a third gun. Graydon flips this logic around; now that he's admitted he was at the crime scene that night, he can also admit to 'what he saw' as a 'key witness'. He claims that he saw the moment Windibank was shot by the pickpocket and he took the third gun afterwards, and he's ready to testify about it. Van Zieks, who should technically be jumping at the opportunity to hear decisive testimony for his precious guilty verdict, is instead not amused at all.

“If it is shown that your claim is false, you will have incriminated yourself as the killer.”

And these are some very telling lines once again. Why would he warn Graydon about this if he didn't have reason to believe those claims would be proven false? Why would he think Graydon could incriminate himself as the killer if he were 100% convinced that Gina is the culprit? He must know by now there's a strong chance that Gina is innocent and Graydon is the real killer. But sure enough, Graydon testifies about watching through a peephole and seeing blood spatter over the coat. Blood which he couldn't know is there unless he saw the murder happen. So the judge wonders whether the coat can be tested for blood and indeed, Van Zieks confirms that it can. A German scientist discovered that test 'very recently' and it's already being used in several courts around the globe because this test was actually, y'know, verified in the field of science.

“Ideas are no use to us here. In science, as in law, theories must be proven before they stand.” “We could shatter all vestiges of doubt within minutes!”

rip. To be clear, it doesn't seem as if Van Zieks actually knows for certain there's blood on the coat, because how could he? His insistence on the blood test doesn't seem to be motivated by hope of 'cornering Gina because the blood will definitely be there'. Rather, I think he just wants to either prove or disprove Graydon's testimony so we can all get on with our lives. Plus, I think he may want to flaunt these 'official methods' just to diss (S)Holmes's methods some more. While waiting for the results, Ryu is allowed to cross-examine the very suspicious peephole testimony. Despite Ryu being the one to press Graydon at every statement, Van Zieks will occasionally chime in with questions of his own to get some clarification. Which is funny, because the prosecution isn't the one who has to cross-examine witnesses. Van Zieks should technically be staying out of it. The fact that he's butting in to needle Graydon some more is just... I don't know, it's another one of those very telling moments, I suppose. Again, he probably already suspects that Graydon is the real killer.

The cross-examination is put on hold when the test results finally come back, confirming the blood on Gina's coat. Ryu still tries to save his case by saying the blood actually belonged to Mason Milverton, but that's obviously a very dangerous route to take.

“Did you not argue fervently for McGilded's innocence? And yet now that the man is dead... You brand him as a murderer? Your conduct shatters any shred of respect you may have earnt for yourself in this country!”

We all know he was a murderer for real. Van Zieks knows this more than anyone in the courtroom (well, except maybe Graydon). Besides, Gina testified about this like fifteen minutes earlier. To be frank, the fact that Ryu is admitting to this openly should actually warrant more respect as opposed to breaking it down. Because, remember, Van Zieks gave Ryu several options two months ago to blindly defend McGilded and instead of taking those opportunities, Ryu instead admitted he couldn't say for certain whether there was foul play happening. I think what's going on here may be that Van Zieks is emotionally conflicted. He was already buying into the theory that Gina is innocent and Graydon is the real killer, but the blood on the coat threw a wrench into it all. Graydon hypothetically could only have the coat knowledge if he'd seen it happen, which makes Gina the real killer after all. With something so conclusive, any belief he might've invested into Ryu's integrity has just been 'betrayed' and indeed, if Ryu's integrity is in doubt, anything else to come from him will also be relentlessly drawn into question. That doesn't just apply to Van Zieks; all the jury members who were on Ryu's side before immediately, unanimously vote guilty. Van Zieks assumes that there will be another Summation Examination, as has become the norm.

Ryu grows desperate, because changing the jury's minds is going to be exceptionally difficult now. Thankfully, our hero (S)Holmes appears! That mischievous scamp!

“Detective (derogatory)”. I think it would've been an interesting plotline if (S)Holmes actively investigated the Professor case back then, perhaps even at Van Zieks's request, and failed to find the killer in time to prevent Klint's death. That would explain why Barok now thinks so badly of (S)Holmes and the amazing detective he's described as in the novels. Unfortunately, the second game never really addresses whether (S)Holmes played a part in the Professor investigation and if so, why it ultimately came down Genshin's duel and Gregson forging evidence to 'close the case'. You'd think that if (S)Holmes investigated the deaths, he and his partner would've tracked down the real killer long before things could escalate that badly.

Anyway, (S)Holmes asks for five minutes of the court's time to pass some evidence on to the defense. Van Zieks begins by saying that the trial has already taken up many hours of the court's time. So 'having spent that long already...' Gregson cuts him off to agree, saying that since they've spent so long already, they don't want to waste even more time. Unfortunately for him, that's not what Van Zieks was about to say at all.

So he's fully on our side again! Hurray! All well and good, but he does still fling one of his chalices later to signify the five minutes are up. (S)Holmes thanks Van Zieks for allowing the brief recess, the reply being that he needs no thanks, since “the die is cast”. In other words, they've already reached a point of no return here. At first this seems like a very cryptic dismissal of gratitude, but what Van Zieks is actually saying is that the jurors have already made up their minds and settled on guilty. “Any attempt to alter the verdict now would be utterly futile.” Which still doesn't say much about whether Van Zieks believes they're headed in the right direction, it only says that he doesn't believe Ryu can convince them to change their minds this time.

Surprise! Ryu doesn't have to! When (S)Holmes came into the room in disguise to deliver the lab results of the coat, the cross-examination of Graydon was actually suspended. This means that, by law, Ryu has the right to continue that cross-examination instead of turning to the jurors for the Summation Examination. Van Zieks suffers through his damage animation (which has been rarely seen by this point in the game and honestly, it's a delight to watch), calling the whole matter absurd. This is the law, Ziekie boy! Deal with it! So with this final chance granted, Ryu presents the catflap device to debunk Graydon's testimony about the peephole. Susato tampered with the crime scene and made that cat flap mere minutes after Windibank was shot. So if the cat flap wasn't there before, how could Graydon possibly have witnesses what he claims to have witnessed?

Oh, he's thrown off now. He's got no idea what to believe anymore. I can't blame him; who would expect a trial to take a turn like this? We're getting close, but Van Zieks has one more obstacle to throw our way, as all prosecutors do. How can we prove that the peephole flap was made after the crime as opposed to before it? “When was the peephole cut? The prosecution demands proof of your answer!” Again, this is par for the course. This is what any prosecutor would demand. Evidence is law in Ace Attorney world and Van Zieks needs tangible proof that Ryu isn't just a 'lying traitor' like Genshin was. Naturally, we have proof and Van Zieks is the one we have to thank for that.

Considering Van Zieks is the one who showed up to court that day with a big stack of photographs from that very same 'infernal camera', this line will never stop cracking me up.  So now we know for sure the peephole was made after Windibank was shot! Unfortunately, in submitting evidence we now also know one other thing.

To be fair, Susato didn't know it was a legit murder scene until the cat flap was created and they could see the body. Up until that point, it was just a scene for breaking-and-entering, along with (S)Holmes shooting. I'm sure that was taken into account when discussing the punishment later on, though. Anyway, we've proven Graydon's perjury, but Van Zieks insists we still haven't quite proven that he's a killer. Luckily, Ryu's already two steps ahead of Van Zieks here. Since we've proven that Graydon was lying about what he saw, the question is now how he knows about these things to begin with. He couldn't possibly have seen the peephole with his own eyes, so how did he know it was there? And how did he know about the blood on the coat? Gregson once again decides to interject, asking Van Zieks for 'a word, please'. He wants to leave the courtroom and return to the station to put in his report.

“You will remain exactly where you are until this trial concludes.”

Heeheeh. Brutal. So with Gregson forced to stay, Ryu is free to insinuate that information about the crime scene must've been leaked to Graydon. And since Graydon had no idea he'd be summoned to court to testify on the murder, he could only have received the information after arriving at the Old Bailey. The only person with the opportunity to pass that information to him (in the middle of a trial, I might add) was Gregson. Gregson immediately barks that he had no reason to leak information about the investigation to someone like Graydon, but we know that's not true. Ryu suggests there was a deal.

I really enjoy this particular expression on Van Zieks, and it fits especially well in this context. While he usually looks very calm and cold on the surface, he now looks outwardly ferocious, slightly unhinged. Perhaps even in pain. This is the face of betrayal and humiliation. We learn in the second game that Van Zieks had already suspected Gregson of having dirty hands when it comes to the Reaper, so I expect this insinuation hits extra hard now. It's confirming to Van Zieks that Gregson is indeed not above dirty tactics. He doesn't take it lightly, of course. “With the stakes so high, the prosecution is not prepared to listen to baseless charges. It is incumbent on the defense now to present evidence in support of this diabolical claim.”

So let's do it. It all comes down to the music box disc and the stolen government secrets, of course. Gregson admits that he was ordered to retrieve the stolen information and do it “on the q.t.” Top secret mission, this one, though earlier on it was implied to have been ordered by Stronghart. Van Zieks concludes that Gregson objected so heavily to the disc being used as evidence because he knew of the information on it. Gregson replies that he realized there was a possibility of it. Since we know the music box plays two discs, the deal must've involved this second disc. Van Zieks is now thinking ahead very quickly, here. He asserts that since Gregson is a Scotland Yard detective, he would've approached this deal with extreme caution and not simply taken Graydon's word for it. He would have asked for the article in question to be handed to him immediately and so, it stands to reason the second disc is in the courtroom at that very moment. Gregson doesn't take lightly to the accusations and when Ryu suggests a cavity- sorry, I mean body search, Gregson agrees to it without so much as a flinch. Suspicious behavior, to say the least. But this means the body search is allowed and everything rests on the outcome.

“If, following the search of the inspector's personal effects, no disk is found... You will be deemed unfit for court service, this trial will end and my country's government will formally demand of yours that you are severely reprimanded.”

But Van Zieks, if Ryu were deemed unfit for court service, who would you face in hectic turnabout trials? He's your one true nemesis now, remember? The judge agrees with Van Zieks's sentiments, but Iris has some very interesting insight: “You're just threatening Runo because you're scared!” Since Iris is one of the most clever characters in the games, we have to examine this statement further. If he's scared, then what's he scared of? My guess would be the firm, undeniable confirmation that Gregson is willing to screw with a fair trial and let a killer walk free. Yes, he was ordered to do this by his superiors (STRONGHART), but it doesn't change that Gregson is throwing an innocent girl under the omnibus to get what he wants. And again, keep this in mind, Van Zieks already held suspicions that Gregson had something to do with the Reaper curse. But they were friends once; Gregson was Klint's friend. There's a difference between suspecting an old buddy of being up to no good and hard evidence that it's true. What adds credence to this being the reason of Van Zieks's fear is one of the game's recurring themes: You mustn't look away from the truth, no matter how blinding it is. No matter how painful, it needs to be acknowledged.

So the game asks whether Ryu still insists on the search, knowing there'll be grave consequences if nothing is found. By this point I was so tired that I didn't choose any of the other options and went straight for the correct answer: Search someone else! Gregson's being so cool about it that we can already surmise he doesn't have the disc on him, but he did have the perfect opportunity to hide it on the taller Skulkin brother earlier in the trial. So Ryu insists on there being a search, and Van Zieks says:

“But your typical Nipponese stubbornness may well land you in hot water this time. Perhaps the lesson will do you some good.”

This sort of implies to me that Van Zieks has also realized the disc isn't on Gregson's person. He's known the guy for a very long time, and so, he'd also know that Gregson is easily flustered with zero poker face skills. There's no way he could look so cool if there was a chance of the disc being found in his pocket. So this is the point where Ryu reveals that he doesn't want the search done on Gregson, which does succeed in ruffling our dear old inspector. Gregson starts accusing Ryu of having lost his mind and the court shouldn't have to put up with this nonsense, with the gallery also erupting into chatter. Iris snaps and tells everyone to be quiet. Ryu's just doing what he was told to do and having the courage of his convictions, so they should all respect that and listen to what he has to say. The judge admits that the court is in awe of the defense's convictions and I could write an entirely different essay here about Ryunosuke's growth throughout the games, but I won't. Point is, the cavity- sorry, I mean body search of Nash Skulkin is allowed. Gregson absolutey has zero poker face without a doubt, as he tries to object to the search in the name of Scotland Yard.

“In this courtroom, only the prosecution and the defence have the authority to object.”

Gregson tries to sputter his way out of this, but Van Zieks says: “I have no idea what forces are in play that might influence your actions, but personally I have no intention of obstructing the course of this trial.” (Gregson literally said that Van Zieks needed “Stronghart's paw print” to get more details on the top-secret investigation into McGilded's shady activities, but sure. No idea what forces are in play. Okay.)

Pin 'im down and use the rubber glove, bailiff! The missing second music box disc is pulled out of Nash's jacket and Ryu explains why he knew it'd be found there.

Uhhhhhhhhhh. I think what Ryu's trying to say is that Gregson would rarely fly into such a rage that he'd assault someone physically, but... This man absolutely loses his composure all the dang time. Just ask the fish n chips he keeps aggressively chomping down or scattering over his shoulder. He doesn't strike me as a composed character at all, so to say he behaved “extremely out of character” is kind of off to me. But whatever, it proved our point so I'll let it slide. When the judge asks why Gregson didn't just submit the second disc as evidence the second he got his hands on it, Van Zieks surmises that if the information on the disc were revealed in court, it'd be problematic. Gregson once again confirms he's working under direct orders from the ministry (STRONGHART) to keep the stolen info on the down low. But now we've got a problem. Neither Graydon nor Gregson will admit that they made a deal for the disc (it just magically appeared in Gregson's possession then, sure) and so long as they don't admit to that deal, we still can't prove Graydon lied about his testimony in regards to Gina being the shooter. The judge is ready to turn the matter over to the jury for their final learnings, and if these people had any common sense they'd all vote not-guilty because Graydon is getting away with his nonsense through a sheer technicality. Even so, Ryu intends to put the squeeze on Gregson by playing the second disc along with the first to determine whether there's truly morse code involved. Either Gregson admits to unlawful dealings with a witness to protect state secrets, or those state secrets get played out loud for everyone to hear. Gregson warns him he'll be making an enemy of the entire British government if he lets those secrets out into the world. Ryu insists he'll stop at nothing to do his job and protect his client, no matter who he makes an enemy out of. Van Zieks pours himself another glass of wine in silence.

Yeah, a real shrewd, calculating man. Uhuh. Again, I want to take a second here to point to the symbiosis we usually have between prosecutor and lead detective. Even in the case of Fulbright and Blackquill, with their unique circumstances, they still worked in tandem. You'd never catch them bickering about whether or not to present a certain piece of evidence. It's fascinating to watch Van Zieks consistently ignore Gregson's pleas. Speaking of which, let's have a leg slam to shut Gregson up.

“I'm a prosecutor. ...I'm no Scotland Yard puppet. In this courtroom, my duty is to the law. So let me propose a toast. To uncovering the truth... by fair means or foul.”

YOOO!!! Get him, Zieks! There's absolutely no denying now that Van Zieks is 100% on Ryu's side. He knows that playing the secret message will cause Gregson to cave and admit to his shady deal. And once we know for certain Graydon's testimony is one huge sham... Well, as Van Zieks already said earlier, Graydon will be incriminated as the real killer.

So the box plays for about ten seconds with actual morse code this time and Gregson cracks like cheap porcelain. When Ryu confronts him with how this dealing would lead to the defendant being wrongfully accused of murder, Gregson just kind of shrugs it off. On its own, you might be thinking Gregson is a scummy asshole for this, but there's some very important factors to keep in mind here from the second game. First of all, very simply, Stronghart ordered Gregson to retrieve the info 'no matter what' and Gregson isn't in any position to refuse at this point. But then there's the Reaper's curse, which is way more important. Even if Gina were found not guilty, she'd still have to die. Not just die; Gregson would have to arrange for her death. I doubt he enjoys being in that position, so it's easier for him to just willfully sabotage the trial and have Gina be executed by the government. Some of the blood would still be on his hands, but at least he wouldn't have had to orchestrate some elaborate death trap himself, leading to all the blood on his hands. (Cool justification, still second-hand murder.)

Uh, wait, this is a Van Zieks essay, not a Gregson essay. So anyway, after Gregson gets choked by Graydon and nobody steps in to help him, we finally get the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. Graydon has a semi tragic backstory and he was the one who cause the omnibus fire.

I guess Graydon wasn't too familiar with the Reaper's curse. Either that, or he didn't believe it was real. So now, to reiterate, we're told several times that anyone prosecuted by Van Zieks is doomed, but only one of the defendants Ryu's had so far has died a tragic death and it wasn't even because of the Reaper's curse. It was because someone else sought revenge, so even if Van Zieks hadn't been the prosecutor, McGilded still would've died. Graydon then goes on to talk about what happened in the pawnbrokery and how he shot Windibank without even thinking about it. Van Zieks has something to say about this.

“A man who used his wealth and influence to distort the facts and escape justice for the crime of murder. What tragic irony... For what you have done... is exactly the same. You've become the very monster you saw, and despised so deeply, in McGilded.”

I feel like this is even more elaborate setup to the fact that Van Zieks's brother, a wealthy and influential man, was actually a mass murderer. For bonus points: 'someone realized the wealthy man was a murderer, knew he wouldn't be confronted with his crimes and therefore took matters into his own hands with vigilante justice'. Does that sound familiar too? Gosh, I love foreshadowing. The judge tells Gregson he'll have to face charges as well, with Van Zieks chiming in that even if it was in the line of duty, Gregson's crime is a serious and inexcusable one. With that, the attention is turned to the defense. The judge says that the morse code thing was an unexpected revelation (and this is said in a complimenting sort of way), with Van Zieks unable to stay silent on this:

“In fact, I think we should applaud my learned friend's courage here today. I propose a toast. To demanding that government secrets be disseminated before the entire courtroom!”

Hee hee... Well, Gregson did warn him beforehand that he'd be making an enemy of the British government if he played those music discs. Ryu becomes very flustered and apologizes, but the telegraph juror interjects here to say that the dots and dashes weren't really morse code. Rather, it was just gibberish to her. So despite Iris looking thoughtful, it seems we didn't spill any beans after all and the matter is dropped. We move on to our verdict, a unanimous not-guilty for Gina Lestrade. Hurray!

Now there's a very clumsy scene transition of Ryu and Van Zieks standing in the abandoned courtroom, facing one another. I suppose Van Zieks made some sort of gesture for Ryu to hang back so they could speak in private? It's odd for them to still be standing behind their respective benches, though. Since court's dismissed, it'd be easy for them to just walk up to one another instead of shouting across an empty room. It may be symbolism that there's still a gaping void between the two of them; the Professor incident. Or maybe I'm giving the game too much credit there and they just couldn't be bothered to animate new backgrounds for this single scene. So here we have a very important conversation. I'll type it out:

“I must say you've surprised me, my Far Eastern friend. Despite being a Nipponese, you saw through the pretence to the malice that festered within that Englishman. And at the same time, you saw through the grime to the surprising heart of your English client. You have a curious talent for judging character, especially considering our very different cultures.”

So here we have a telltale problem with racial prejudice. Van Zieks assumed that because Ryu has a different background, especially culturally, he wouldn't be able to understand or relate to English citizens. We've seen this sentiment before in case 1-4, where Van Zieks is shocked that Ryu would understand the mind of an English policeman. Ryu says that he doesn't think there's anything curious about it at all, because whether people are from Britain or from Japan, they're all human beings. They're not so different on the inside. Ryu is effectively saying that Van Zieks needs to stop categorizing people based on their nationality because that doesn't work. Human beings are human beings; some of them are good and some of them are bad. Van Zieks doesn't directly reply to this, instead confirming what we already suspected.

“You know, I took this case for one very simple reason. To lock swords with you once again here in the courtroom. When I encountered you for the first time two months ago, it reminded me... of toasting friendship and trust with another Nipponese... only to find my trust betrayed. Through you, I hoped to look into the eyes of the man I once knew... and try to understand.”

So remember in the previous essay when I surmised that the torrid look of hatred in Van Zieks's eyes was directed at someone who died ten years ago? Well, it's confirmed here. Van Zieks didn't see a fresh newbie whenever he looked at Ryu; he saw Genshin Asogi. The betrayal which took place ten years ago was never given closure. Sure, Van Zieks managed to send Asogi to the gallows to exact 'justice' and get some form of payback, but he was never given Asogi's motives. He never got to confront this man with the emotional turmoil or the hurt, because he wouldn't have been given the opportunity to do so and even if he'd tried, he wouldn't have gotten satisfactory responses. Asogi was abruptly executed and Van Zieks never learned just what possessed a dear friend to murder his brother. He was left with boiling hatred, grief and a whole lot of questions. So indeed, now he hoped to 'understand' Asogi through Ryu, but that was never an option to begin with. Ryu has no relation to that man, so Van Zieks might as well have tried to grasp that understanding by 'locking swords' with Beppo. It's about the same level of futility. Van Zieks's misguided attacks appear to be born from the assumption that it must've been a cultural thing; that perhaps betrayal is something which comes naturally to people from Japan. It's an incredibly stupid, naive way of thinking, because by simplifying Genshin's motives down to his race and cultural upbringing, it takes away the option that there's a far darker truth to be found. Quite frankly, I think Van Zieks is afraid of that truth, just as he was afraid of confirmation that Gregson's not above dirtying his hands. To affirm that Genshin Asogi's friendship was genuine and he truly was an honorable man would imply that he'd had a reason to take Klint's life. I'm not saying it was a good reason! I'm just saying... a reason. When Ryu asks for more details on what happened back then, Van Zieks won't reply.

“Coming to be known as the Reaper of the Bailey, and my retirement from service five years ago... It gives me cause to wonder if our meeting has some deeper purpose. So... Farewell, my learned Nipponese fellow. Until we meet again.”

(He crushes another chalice in the process of saying this, because of course.) The deeper purpose alluded to here, along with the earlier line that Ryu may one day learn the answer, can only mean that Van Zieks foresees something of a journey here. A path to walk down together with Ryu in which, eventually, the Professor case will once again surface. Whether that's a good thing or a bad thing for Van Zieks, we don't know. I'm not sure he knows. But he did admit to having been pleasantly surprised by Ryu and he had a civil conversation with him just now, so the sentiment here is that Van Zieks is slowly letting go of some of his earlier grudges. He doesn't outright admit that he was wrong to be a scumbag to Ryu, nor does he apologize, but by admitting he was only attacking Ryu to make sense of something that happened in his past, he's basically admitting to his behavior being irrational. He's softened up a little, and with a second game on the way, it means at the very least the option of further character development is there.

The conversation ends and in the defendant lobby, Gina is reminded she's not in the clear yet. There's the curse, after all. Gina's not afraid, because he say she sees it, “the Reaper is a bit like Him upstairs.” Sort of funny to equate the Reaper to God, but what she's basically talking about is karmic retribution. Rotten coves like McGilded get what's coming to them, but she knows she's a good person deep down and so, she thinks she'll escape the curse just fine. Which doesn't say much about all those other victims who came before McGilded, mind. We can't say for certain they were all rotten too. Well, the second game will tell us whether she escapes with her life or not. And normally I would also take a look at the little 'bit' that characters have in the end credits, but Van Zieks didn't get his own bit for whatever reason. He's only briefly mentioned by Pat and Roly Beate, so that's it when it comes to his character in the first game.

Next up, we're moving on to case three of the second game, taking place six months after The Unspeakable Story!

[youreacowgirllikeme]

Objection

Note: I’m a sucker for AUs, so here is a Lawyer!Chris fic nobody asked for, the plot (or whatever) is veery loosely inspired by this book I’m reading atm (The Hating Game) and by the the fact that Chris talking about lawyer stuff is incredibly hot to me

Warning: swearing (a lot), smut, Chris bashing (for the story line, pls don’t take this seriously, I adore this man to death), NSFW, slight exhibitionism

Plus another warning, I am not a lawyer or trained in any other legal profession, so if there are inaccuracies in the way I used certain terms I am sorry

„Objection, your honor, this is hearsay!” you shouted, shooting a furious glance over to the defense table, and to the absolute menace standing in front of it.

Chris Cuomo. The most obnoxious, arrogant, loud-mouthed asshole you ever had the misfortune to meet in court. He was a senior partner at one of New York’s most prestigious law firms, specialized on getting their wealthy clients out of everything from tax fraud to outright corruption.

This man stood for everything that, in your opinion, was wrong with the justice system and this country in general. Everything about him screamed elitist, boarding school, frat boy, preppy rich guy that had everything handed to him on a silver platter. He flaunted his famous last name around whenever he had the chance and it got him right to the top of the business.

You, on the opposite, went to law school on a scholarship, worked your ass of and now practiced law working for the district attorney to prosecute and convict the very people Cuomo tried to kept out of jail to afford the ridiculous Upper East Side Penthouse he probably had. You tried to push the fact that he was one of the most brilliant lawyers you knew aside, because you just hated him. No respect, no admiration for his legal genius, he was the bane of your existence fair and square.

You clashed heads in court more than once, and by now he knew exactly how to rile you up, smug bastard. His current client was accused of tax and investment fraud of incredible extent, and there he was, trying to discredit your main witness in front of the jury with some ridiculous accusations about them having a personal vendetta against the defendant. You saw your case crumbling in front of you as the witness got tangled up in Cuomo’s relentless questioning, stumbling over their own words, their credibility shrinking with each minute.

He did what he did best, lulling in people with his charm and striking when they least expected it. And he always did it with his disgusting smile on his disgustingly handsome face. Yes, of course he had to be a hot, fit, well-built asshole, making your professional life miserable at every chance he got.

Sometimes, he even had the audacity to wink at you. In court. During a trial. You wanted to punch him in his perfect face more than anything else.

The judge disrupted your thoughts.

“Dismissed, Ms. Y/L/N, and mind your tone in my courtroom. And Mr. Cuomo, please keep your questions professional or this interrogation will be over.” The judge said, shooting the both of you a warning glance.

“No more questions anyway, your honor, I think the jury heard it all.” Cuomo said, and almost strutted back to the defense table. And with a look over to the jury, you knew he was probably right. They eyed your witness suspiciously, and you almost wanted to stomp down out of pure rage. The fucker just destroyed your chance for a swift conviction right in front of your eyes. You needed more time to gather new evidence, or this would be over.

“Your honor, the prosecution is asking the court for adjournment.” You said, trying your best to not let your frustration show.

“Granted, the trial will be continued tomorrow. Court is dismissed.”

You put the case files into your bag and practically stormed out of the court room, passing the defense table without as much as a sideward glance.

But he caught up with you in the parking deck of the building.

“You’re aware you can’t win this one, right, Y/L/N? It’s all circumstantial, even you should see that.” His smug voice suddenly said from behind you as you were just about to get into your car.

You whirled around, pulse hammering in your chest out of pure anger.

“This is unprofessional even by your standards, Cuomo, I’m not discussing this case with you in a parking lot. Now why don’t you get into this environmental nightmare you call a car and leave me the hell alone.” You hissed, pointing over to where his obnoxiously big SUV was standing.

“Don’t talk to me like that, Y/L/N, just because you can’t handle yourself in court.” He said, smirk still firmly in place. His hands were playing with the car keys, and you were mesmerized for a second by how large his hands were. They looked like shovels.

“Whatever you’re plotting in that weird little brain of yours, stop staring at me.” Cuomo said, actually sounding a bit unsettled. You snapped out of it and went right back into anger mode.

“Staring at you? God, you’re so fucking full of yourself, aren’t you, you condescending prick? Not everything revolves around you and your spoiled ass, Cuomo.”

“Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to, girl?” he snapped, raising his voice now. You clearly got to him, and seeing a crack in his arrogant façade gave you a satisfying sense of triumph. You couldn’t stop now, even if his angry face was screaming danger.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, your highness, are you used to people worshipping the ground you walk on because you had the dumb luck to be born with the Cuomo name? Fun fact, nobody cares, you’re still an asshole, just with a fancy suit.” You really threw all caution away, and one look at Cuomo told you that you’ve definitely gone too far.

Because he was livid. There was a vein on his temple that was literally pulsating, his hands were balled to fists at his side and his blue eyes were so full of fury that you were scared to look directly at him.

He took two giant steps in your direction, backing you up against your car. You were caught, Cuomo’s giant frame in front of you with no way to escape his wrath.

You looked up at him, daring to meet his eyes directly. He looked at you like he was about to kill you. You tried to recall your fury from some seconds ago, but the heat radiating from his body and the way his huge arms had you trapped on both sides of your head were making it impossible for you to focus. Damn him for being so attractive. You wanted to fight him, but you also wanted to press yourself against his body and feel what was underneath that suit.

“You presumptuous little…” he spat, stopping himself before saying something truly insulting. He took a deep breath, and looked at you again. And then he saw it.

The way you were biting your lip, the way your pupils were dilated.

And he smiled, a cruel smirk that send shivers down your spine. He brought his face even closer to yours and dropped his voice.

“You know, I got really good at reading people, comes with the job, I guess. But you are making it so easy for me, Y/L/N, look at you?” His mouth was at your ear now, his hot breath tickling your neck.

“Do you really want me to leave you alone? Doesn’t seem like it to me.”

You could barely think straight anymore, you wanted to tell him to fuck off, but it just came out as an embarrassing, needy whimper.

He chuckled darkly, and goosebumps broke out all over your body. Why did this man, that you hated more than almost anyone else, reduce to a state of arousal you had never experienced before just by whispering in your ear? Your panties were already soaked, and he didn’t even touch you. With your last few functioning brain cells, you cursed your needy, weak body, before you tiled your head to the side, baring your neck to Chris mouth.

He breathed over your skin, teasing you without actually touching. You felt like you were going insane.

“Please.” You whispered.

“What? Use your words, darling.”

“Kiss my neck, touch me, anything, just do it, asshole.” You hissed, glad you were able to form a coherent sentence.

“So impolite.” He chuckled and pressed a kiss to the side of your neck before starting to suck lightly. You moaned softly and pressed your pelvis into his. You could feel his hardness through his slacks, his unaffected behavior was clearly an act, he was just as aroused as you were.

One of his hands went down to squeeze your ass hard, bringing another surge of wetness to your panties.

Seeing him getting into this gave you some of your courage back, and you started to grind against him, making him growl against your neck.

“Is that everything you got, Cuomo.” You asked, trying to rile him up a bit. You really enjoyed the way he was manhandling you, as much as it pained you to admit it. But his hands were wandering under your skirt now, so you might as well just go with it.

Your provocative behavior clearly had the desired effect on him, because he grabbed your waist in a bruising grip, spun you around and pinned you against your car, his erection pressing against your ass. He yanked up your skirt and tore off your panties, leaving your lower body completely bare.

By now, you were glad that you picked the parking spot on the top floor, because your two cars were the only ones left and no one would come up here at this hour to catch you, about to be railed against your vehicle by Chris Cuomo.

“My, my, Y/L/N, this really turns you on, doesn’t it?” You could hear his breathy voice from behind you, and then felt a thick finger slowly being pressed into your aching pussy, followed by a sharp intake of breath. “Fuck, you already are so wet for me.” Chris growled.

“Are you going to fuck me soon, or do I have to take care of it myself?” You asked, teasingly.

He swore under his breath and gave your ass a sharp slap, making you welp.

You heard the sound of his zipper, and the rustle of foil.

“You really brought a condom to court, Cuomo? Wow, you are even more shameless than I imagined.”

“Shut up.” He growled, and you did, because he lined up his cock and slowly started pressing into you. He was big, and you had to bury your face into your arm to muffle the obscene sounds coming out of your mouth at the feeling of being stretched like this. He bottomed out with a low moan, and immediately started a fast, hard pace, pushing you against your car with every move of his hips.

You turned your head around to look at him. His face was flushed, and his eyes were fixed on the sight of his cock sliding in and out of you.

The friction was delicious, and he was hitting a perfect spot deep inside you with every thrust. Your moans became louder and louder, and he pressed one of his large hands over your mouth.

“Be quiet, you don’t want someone to catch little Miss Righteous being screwed in the parking lot by big, bad Cuomo, don’t you?” he whispered in your ear between husky breaths, and you could only cry out against his palm as he was speeding up his thrusts. The idea of someone catching you here was as arousing as it was terrifying.

Suddenly, Chris other hand sneaked around you to press on your clit, hard, and you screamed into his hand as your orgasm hit you like a punch to the gut, your walls gripping his cock like a vice while he was still fucking you through your climax.

“That’s it, darling, come for me. Fuck.” He groaned, before suddenly going tense as he reached his peak as well, cock buried deep inside you.

You slumped against your car with a huff, and the brief glimpse you caught of your reflection in the window made you question what you just did even more. Not only did you have (amazing, mind-blowing) sex with the opposing lawyer, he also absolutely wrecked you, you looked like you just had the roughest night ever with your hair undone, your makeup smudged and your panties in shreds on the floor of the parking lot. You hastily pulled down your skit again and tried to fix your hair as much as possible to get a minimum of decorum back.

Chris was just disposing the condom into a nearby bin, already looking calm and composed again. You hated him for that, and for the broad, self-satisfied grin that was all over his face again. And still, your heart gave a little flip as he approached you.

“That was fun.” He smirked, “We should definitely do that again. But not today, I’m busy. See you in court.”

He started to make his way to his car, and there was definitely a spring in his step.

“In your dreams, Cuomo.” You mumbled after him but couldn’t suppress a smile. That was, until you looked into the side mirror of your car to check your makeup and saw the giant, purple bruise on the side of your neck.

“Cuomo!” you screamed. “Come back here right now, you imbecile, you gave me a fucking hickey!”

“Better wear a scarf then tomorrow!” he called, entering his car. “And don’t make plans for after the trial, I’m taking you to dinner to celebrate my victory. And I mean that.”

And with that, he drove off. And as much as you hated yourself to admit it, you were really looking forward to having dinner with this idiot. After you destroyed him in court, of course.