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urdreamgirls-dreamgirl · 8 months

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what, like it’s hard?, pt. one

“it’s just that… if i want to win a seat in congress by the time i’m thirty, i need to find someone who’s serious about my career. not some little elementary school teacher that cares more about his students than what he’s wearing on my campaign stops,” tommy tells steve, as they’re sitting in quite possibly the fanciest restaurant steve’s ever step foot in. the menu hadn’t even included any prices.

“but… i’m seriously in love with you.” steve feels like his whole world is falling apart. just last week he’d been so sure that tommy was getting ready to propose. he’d introduced steve to his family—they’d spent a week out on martha’s vineyard for a family reunion at which steve had met tommy’s great-grandmother, hands laden with rings as she’d winked when tommy had asked for a private conversation. steve had been so sure that conversation was about the family ring.

“and i love you too, baby, but look. you don’t want to have to leave your students for half the year to come on the campaign trail with me, do you?” tommy asks, not even really looking at steve. he continues to just eat his stupid dinner as if he’s not ripping steve’s heart out at this very moment.

and steve can’t help but think how silly this all is, because it’s not like tommy’s actually running for anything right now. steve doesn’t even teach yet, beyond the two days a week he does his student teaching. they’re only 22, they haven’t even graduated northwestern with their bachelors degrees! but tommy’s saying these things as if they’re all real, right now.

“and i’m off to harvard next fall. it’s not like we’ll stay together while i’m there and you’re still here, right?”

and the thing is, steve had actually thought he’d be going with tommy to boston. they’re both set to graduate in the spring, steve with his degree in education and tommy with a dual major in pre-law and political science. they hadn’t really ever talked about it, but they’d been together since the beginning of their sophomore year. so yes, steve had thought they’d still be together when tommy started at harvard law.

but now steve’s starting to feel extra stupid.

“so… what? you’re breaking up with me?” steve starts to feel his chest tightening, like he might cry. he can’t believe that two hours ago he thought he’d been getting ready for a proposal.

“don’t think of it as a breakup, stevie… think of it as a conscious uncoupling. we’re just moving in two different directions. i’ll be at harvard law next semester and you’ll be…” tommy gives him a look of slight disdain—steve has never seen tommy look at him like that. waitstaff? sure. his driver? absolutely. but it’s never been directed at steve before. “well, you’ll be teaching snot-nosed six year olds. we’re on different paths.”

and that’s what truly makes steve’s blood boil. his passion for teaching and education is one of his greatest qualities and he’d thought that had been part of the reason tommy loved him. he didn’t realize that tommy loved him in spite of that. he’s not gonna let some asshole like tommy montgomery hagan iii tell him he’s no good.

so he doesn’t respond. he just takes the linen napkin off his lap and throws it on his half-eaten steak dinner and marches out of the restaurant.

tommy doesn’t even follow him out.

~*~

“oh steve… i’m sorry,” robin says to him about an hour later while steve lays his head in her lap on their dingy couch.

“it’s not even that he broke up with me,” he explains through tears. “it’s that he basically said i was worthless. like i couldn’t do anything better than teaching. as if teaching isn’t even an admirable profession! where would he be without his teachers, huh? isn’t this all about going to stupid harvard? what does he think the professors there actually do? knit?”

“is this a bad time to tell you that i always kind of hated him?” robin says, maybe trying to get him to laugh. but it kind of surprises steve. he sits up, knocking her hands from where they’ve been carding through his hair in the process.

“you did?! no, you didn’t.” he searches robin’s face for a moment and then sighs. “why didn’t you say anything? you could’ve saved me a whole lot of wasted time.”

“babe, you were so gooey-eyed for that guy, nothing i said was gonna change that. a crowbar couldn’t have pried you away from him. but you have to know he was an asshole.” when steve stares at her blankly, she huffs. “steve, he used to offer to cover the whole tab when we went out. how often did he ever actually pay, even for his own drinks? he made poor jonathan cry the last time we were all here for game night, just because jonathan asked for clarification on the rules for pictionary.” steve is still staring at her. “he tried to stiff argyle by offering him a flight on his dad’s private jet instead of paying for his weed and we all know he doesn’t even have access to the jet. dude was cheap as fuck and not even nice about it.”

steve thinks about it. it was kind of true. tommy was a horrible tipper—steve usually laid down a couple of twenties when they went to dinner together when tommy wasn’t looking. he can remember more than a few times where the guy had sent their food back even though it had looked perfectly wonderful to steve. so… okay, maybe robin had a point.

steve tells her as much, then adds, “but he was always nice to me.”

robin snorts. “are you kidding? he’s stood you up so many times i can’t even remember all of them. remember that time he said his first impression of you was that you weren’t as hot as your pictures? who says that to the person they’re dating?”

steve groans and lays his head back down in her lap.

“okay, so maybe you have a point about that too. but i was gonna marry him, rob. what do i do now?” he knows he’s whining, but he feels just a little bit entitled to it right now.

“i don’t know, babe. get over it, i guess. welcome to the world of us singles. it sucks out here.” steve can hear the fondness in robin’s voice as she says it, but still. it does sting just a little.

they sit there in silence for a while, with robin running her hands through his hair again. it’s so soothing that he almost jumps out of his skin when she speaks again.

“hey, you know what would be super funny?” she’s laughing a little as she says it.

“what?” steve had been dozing just a little and his voice sounds muffled by fatigue.

“if you got into harvard and just showed up on the first day. imagine the look on his face.”

steve laughs at how ridiculous that sounds. like he could get into harvard. plus, he’s got teaching to think about. he doesn’t have a place yet, but he knows he’ll get one soon.

but as he sits there with robin’s hands stroking through his hair, he begins to daydream about how shocked tommy would be. about how he’d have no choice but to eat his words when steve proves himself by getting into one of the most competitive programs in the country. about how good it would feel to prove the bastard wrong.

“robin?” she hums in response. “you’re a goddamn genius.”

~*~

“dingus, are you sure you want to do this?”

the spring semester starts in three days. it’s their last semester at northwestern and there’s nothing but great big darkness on the horizon of steve’s future. he hasn’t slept in two days, busy studying, thick workbooks piled around around him at the kitchen table. he knows what he must look like, over-caffeinated with bruises under his eyes.

“i’m sure.” steve has his lsat exam in one week. “i have to take the exam this week. apps are due by march first.”

“no, steve, i don’t mean taking the test. i mean applying at all. it’s clearly more stress than it’s worth. do you even want to go to law school?” robin sounds concerned and normally steve would think it’s very sweet, but currently it does nothing but irritate him.

“i could,” he responds grumpily.

robin sighs. “i just mean… is this worth it?”

steve looks up then and sees her biting her lip, clearly worried about him. he puts his pencil down and stops the timer on his phone, giving her his full attention.

“this isn’t just about tommy.” robin gives him a skeptical look and it’s his turn to sigh. “it’s really not. maybe it started out that way, maybe it was just a stupid joke to get revenge on the asshole, but now it’s more than that. it’s proving that i can do something unexpected of me.” he swallows. “no one even believed i would get into college. i was just some stupid jock in high school who’d never amount to anything. and then i got in to northwestern and i was so shocked and happy. but i found out that my dad had actually pulled a bunch of strings. so i hadn’t gotten in on my own merits. he didn’t think i could. but now…” he runs a hand through his hair nervously. he’s never said any of this out loud before. “he’s not around now. there’s no one to help me. no safety net. if i can do this, it’ll prove something to me. something that maybe i don’t really believe yet.”

he expects robin to say something about external validation being a corrupting force and identity built on academic achievement being solely a losing game, but she doesn’t. instead, she sits down across the table from him and picks up a workbook.

“okay,” she says. “what do we have to do?”

~*~

“mail here?” steve calls out when he hears the front door close behind robin.

there’s a moment that feels like a pause. “yeah, it’s here.”

steve practically sprints from his bedroom to his living room. robin holds a single white envelope in her hand. steve all but snatches it from her.

his fingers move to rip it open, but then he hesitates. he thrusts it back towards robin. “i can’t,” he tells her. “you do it.”

her eyebrows shoot up. “you’re sure?” steve nods. he watches her rip the envelope open, bouncing on his feet. she scans the page and then she’s smiling.

steve grabs the paper from her. “oh my god?!” he yells. “oh my god!”

robin practically jumps into his arms. “179, baby! harvard law here we come.”

~*~

even after such a successful run at the lsats, there’s still the little matter of actually getting in to the school. steve’s only experience with the academic application process was with undergrad and it appears that applying for anything beyond a bachelors degree is an entirely different ball game. he’s so out of his depth that he’s forced to turn to grad school message boards for advice and tips of how to get in. it seems like everyone else is applying to a hundred different schools while steve’s only applying to one. he learns this is a terrible strategy for planning one’s future, but that doesn’t really matter to steve. for him, it’s harvard or nothing.

there are so many different parts of the application that it makes steve’s head spin. there’s the statement of purpose and the personal statement—the difference between those two requires robin’s careful and slow explanation about three separate times. then there’s the writing sample and the application and the recommendations and the transcripts and and and

but with robin’s help, steve completes each component and successfully sends his materials by the day of the deadline.

steve’s never been a patient person. no one on earth would accuse him of that, so even he can tell that he’s getting on robin’s nerves every day as he practically pounces on her when she returns from collecting the mail.

and then one day, finally, at the end of april, she comes through the front door and clutched in her hand is a big, thick white envelope emblazoned with the words ‘harvard law’ in bold, beautiful crimson red.

~*~

“last chance to back out,” robin says smiling as she swings herself up into the passengers seat of their rented u-haul.

“nah.” steve returns her smile as he slides his sunglasses from his hair onto his face. “let’s get out of this dump.”

and with that, they leave their first apartment behind, headed to the coast.

[wanted to finish this completely before posting but my benadryls kicking in and i have no self control. eventual steddie, promise! no tag list for this one, sorry!! it’s giving me anxiety on the other one lol absolutely not edited, if u see a typo no u don’t. i wrote this on my phone in a feverish frenzy. also, i originally invented someone for the role of warner but then i was like ‘IDIOT!!!!! why would u not choose tommy?????’ so if there’s a name in here that shouldn’t be, no there isn’t.]

#the not as hot as ur pictures thing is a real thing my ex said to me after we’d been together for like six months lol called me ugly 😭#legally blonde au #steddie #steddie fic #steddie legally blonde au #this will EVENTUALLY be steddie if i write more lol #robin buckley #steve harrington #platonic stobin #steddie fanfic #steddie ficlet #i’m setting it up!!!!!#eddie will be a bartender not a law guy sorry!!!! lawyer!eddie just don’t feel right to me #steddie fanfiction #steddie blurb #guess what i watched tonight #well i also watched mean girls lol #here have this half finished thing #i wanted to finish it before posting but

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seireiteihellbutterfly · 8 months

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Sunflower Valentine

artwork by @eu--lalia

Higurma Masterlist

Imagine leaving Higuruma a bouquet of sunflowers on his desk on Valentine's day.

He'll quickly deduce that whoever left them was making a play on his name and his career as a lawyer. So it's someone he knows.

Although he'd prefer roses if someone was leaving him flowers, he's flattered nonetheless that there's a person believing he's bouquet worthy.

The little card that came with them says 'To balance out your gloominess'.

He'll chuckle to himself 'Gloomy? I'm not gloomy. Broody perhaps.'

The rest of his day is spent trying to figure out who sent them, and he'll have a goofy grin on his face whenever he glances at them. He'll try his best to draw attention to them every time someone comes in the room, like he's not so discreetly saying 'someone sent me a Valentine's bouquet!'

"Pretty bouquet." You comment as you walk in to hand him a report.

"Oh, noticed them did you? Looks like I'm popular around here," he'll drawl, trying not to look too pleased with himself.

"Or it could mean someone doesn't want to look at you again."

His smugness fades. "What do you mean?"

"Oh cmon, you know the old Greek tale? Apollo turned his lover Clytie into a sunflower so that he'd never have to look at her face again after she betrayed him to a sea nymph."

His cheer immediately drops and you feel bad for him. "But I doubt that. Very few people know that fact. I'm sure whoever sent them intends to see your face again. Perhaps the next day morning."

"Next day morning?" he sounds confused.

You nod your head. "Yeah. Sunflowers need to be plucked in the early morning otherwise they wilt. So maybe whoever sent them was hoping they'd see your face the next morning after you've... Wilted."

You give him a playful smirk and walk out.

"Wilted...? What...?"

It takes a few seconds before the cogs in his brain start work.

"Hold on now y/n!"

He scrambles out of the office behind you.

Sunflower divider by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

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bunmurdock · 5 days

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matt murdock masterlist

brought to you by @bunmurdock + anon community, now with more filtering options! do not copy, modify, or repost as your own. you must be 18+ to read and interact.

word count

<500 words

>500 words

genre

smut

smut (feral cut)

fluff

angst / comfort

!matt

all

mean

dark

ddba

college

daddy

lawyer

professor

sub

!reader

all

bratty

needy

pet

sensitive

shy/insecure

student

hopeless romantic

dom

kinks & tropes

all

bondage

breeding

breath play

cockwarming

corruption

daddy kink

degradation

impact play

intox

oral

overstimulation

denial play

pet play

somnophilia

others

bun’s

spicy links

audio

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sylvia-plaths-fig-pie · 2 months

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Silver Linings ♡ Sam Winchester

Being duty solicitor was your least favourite bit about your 'training'. You didn't need supervision for it, which made it all the more boring. If you were with Cathy (your supervisor) then maybe, maybe, you could've enjoyed it. But no, you were stuck alone waiting.

Usually a duty solicitor would wait at home for a call that an attorney-less potential criminal was brought in who needed legal rep. But unfortunately for you, you didn't have a car. And since it was 11 at night the buses had long since stopped in this rural southern state you called home.

So you were simply sitting in the police station, waiting. Where you would wait all night. You went from being a 'hot shot' Stanford law student, to a trainee solicitor abandoned at a tiny police station.

You never wanted to go into criminal law, that was never the plan. You wanted corporate law, you wanted money, but more than anything you wanted to escape. Escape the very town that you were in right now. Escape the family that you now live with.

You kept telling yourself that maybe, just maybe, when you're fully qualified you can go to the city. But with your mothers bad health and your father out of the picture, well that wasn't really an option.

So for now you waited, and waited, and waited.

At some point between 1am and 2am you must have fallen asleep as you startled when an old, and tired, police officer shook you awake.

"Got two in for you." He said gruffly, "wanted for all sorts of stuff, we caught them grave robbin', but they're wanted for theft and murder and a whole host of stuff."

You blinked at him as his words slowly sank in.

Murder? You questioned in your head. It dawned on you that you may be sitting face to face with the people who'd been killing the young women in the town. No killing was too kind a word. They were brutally murdered their hearts ripped out.

You suddenly felt very sick, but this is what you wanted. If you were to stay in criminal law it would be beneficial to represent some prolific killers, your moral compass will survive.

"Wh-" you began but his loud and obnoxious yawn cut you off.

"Where are they?" You asked once he'd finished, trying to hide your slight terror.

"I'll show you to the interview room." He said as he walked away, jingling his keys in his hand. You followed him quickly, maybe this night wouldn't be so boring after all.

Before he opened the door, you quickly pulled your hair up into a smart updo (a quick knott) with a silver hair pin. It was your lucky charm. You've never given bad advice, lost a moot trial or failed an exam when you wore it. You weren't superstitious or anything, but you had a feeling with the two offenders you were going to face, you needed all the luck you could get.

When he unlocked the door for you, you weren't prepared for what you saw.

"Here's the file on them," the police officer said as you turned your attention back to him.

"Oh, thank you," you accepted the file as he turned to go, closing the door and subsequently locking it behind.

The two men sitting in front of you were cuffed to the table, sitting on chairs quite frankly too small for them.

They both looked unfazed by the whole process, if anything they looked annoyed, not scared or worried, just pissed.

That normally would have proved to be unusual, especially in such a town where all the offenders that walked in you knew by name. But you were shocked by something else.

Maybe you were still asleep?

This couldn't be right, surely?

There, one of the men sitting in front of you, was your old law rival. The one who pushed you to be top of your class. The only other person you knew with a full scholarship. The only person you knew that dropped out when he had so much potential.

Sam Winchester.

He dropped out after a fire killed his girlfriend, Jess, a lovely girl. Everyone thought it would be just a year out, but it wasn't. Naturally rumours circulated, but that didn't change the fact that Sam Winchester dropped out and you never saw him again.

Until now.

With several murder charges, accessory to murder, theft, robbery, burglary, identity theft, fraud, and grave robbing.

You quickly looked up and down the file as you seated yourself opposite them.

"So," you began unsure what to say, "you boys are facing a lot of charges."

Dean, Sam's older brother (you learned from the file) gave a slight laugh at your remark.

"You don't say..." He remarked. He nudged Sam slightly, to get him to laugh but he didn't. Instead he stared. He just stared at you.

"Sammy?" Dean asked, almost concerned, but more amused at his silence.

"I would say it's good to see you again Sam, but I would have rather seen you on the other side of this table." You said rather bluntly, you didn't have time for small talk, you needed them to respect you and know that you're good at your job, or at least will be when you're fully qualified.

"You know this chic?" Dean asked, eyebrows raised.

"I-" Sam began but it was clear he didn't know what to say. I could read it in his eyes, I reminded him of a past, I reminded him of a future that could have been.

"We went to Stafford together," you said avoiding both brothers' eyes, "briefly," you added, "it doesn't prove to be a conflict of interest so I'm fine to represent you further should you need it."

They both simply stared at you, then gave each other a knowing look, then they turned back to you.

You couldn't read them, well you couldn't read Dean at least. Sam looked pained, like he didn't want me to be here. But there was something else. It felt like he was sorry. Sorry for what was something you couldn't quite work out.

"So," you said, "you have quite a lengthy list of suspected felonies, most of which carry life sentences. Due to the expenses of trials if you plead guilty a deal could be made, if not you're at the mercy of a jury, and if your trial is down this way then I don't fancy your chances. Of course only plead guilty if you are."

You reeled of the standard advice, truly you weren't well versed in what to do with serious charges relying on old law school knowledge.

"Any questions?" You asked.

They looked at eachother again, Dean strangely wiggling his eyebrows at Sam. In response the younger brother just rolled his eyes.

He looked similar to how he did at school. His eyes were still hazel with hints of green, his hair was still quite long and messy, he was tall even sitting down he had an imposing quality. But there were small differences. He held himself with a tension only found in old war veterans, his hair was just uncomfortably long for him, annoying him. But the biggest difference was in his eyes, the hope and joy that he once had were replaced with fear, mistrust and a hardness you'd never seen before. He was haunted.

"What are our odds like?" Dean asked, leaning back in his chair, he was too relaxed. He wanted to be here, and you couldn't figure out why.

You studied him briefly before answering. "Not good." There was no point lying to them. "But with your track record I'm assuming you're planning to make it out before trial."

"No we're-" Sam began but you held up a hand to silence him.

"Attorney client privilege, I'm not ratting on you." You clarified, "but I'm assuming this won't be the last time you're caught, I can take care of any personal issues you need me to deal with, and I can give you my card with my contact info."

"You won't be a qualified solicitor yet will you?" Sam asked, looking you properly in the eyes for the first time.

"I will be in a month," you clarified, "I've already gotten a few deals through, good deals, I've gotten clients acquitted on a technicality which if I had ful access to your file outside of this police station I can try and find one in your case. If not I can always advise you on some 'hypothetical' situations you may find yourself in."

He looked at you, really looked at you, if you didn't know any better you would say he looked proud.

But you did know better. Sam Winchester was never your friend. He was barely your acquaintance. The only reason you knew him was because of a sort of academic rivalry you shared. You pushed on another to do better. Until you couldn't. He dropped out. You stayed. And your mind hadn't thought about him since.

Well, you didn't think about him often at least.

"Thank you," he said with almost a whisper.

"You know you're the best lawyer we've had," Dean began, "most act like we did all that shit and have no reason to be treated like people."

"It doesn't matter what I think, being 'guilty' doesn't mean you're morally innocent, just legally."

Dean looked at you, slightly confused by your remark.

"God, you sound like professor Williamson." Sam laughed, breaking a slightly awkward silence.

"I mean he was my fav..." you said almost shyly. To say he was your favourite was an understatement, he was basically like a father to you. He was like that with Sam as well.

When Sam left, it left a hole in Williamson's heart. A whole that you don't think was ever really filled.

"He would've been everyone's favourite if he didn't give people 1000 essays." Sam laughed, reminiscing on your shared school time.

"The essays were fun." You commented, catching the role of Dean's eyes in your peripheral vision.

"I mean yeah," he agreed, "but most people don't like essays."

"Well most people didn't get an academic scholarship." You countered.

"We were the only two." He said almost solemnly and that look of mourning what his future could have been was back on his face.

You kept your last remark inside, choosing not to open an already newly exposed wound.

When you graduated top of your class they mentioned how you were the only one of the law cohort to get a full ride. Sam, to faculty members, was a distant memory. Well he was to everyone but professor Williamson.

They gave tributes to Jess at your graduation but not Sam. It was like he never existed. Like he was never there. It hurt like hell. But what hurt even more was that no one seemed to notice. Sam was an old story, the boy whose life got flipped on its head after his girlfriend died in a freak accident.

"Not that I don’t like this trip down memory lane but..." Dean gestured towards the clock behind me. I turned, it was nearing 3am, the time all the young girls had been murdered.

As I turned back towards them, they pulled away from each other it was clear that they were whispering.

"Do you want to share with the class?" You asked, concerned at the sudden change of atmosphere with the brothers.

"How old are you?" Dean asked, rather bluntly.

You thought about giving a remark about how people should never ask a lady's age but thought better of it given the strange change in atmosphere.

"Twenty-five." You said, slightly concerned.

Sam quirked an eyebrow confused, Dean looked worried.

"I skipped two grades," you quickly explained, "why?"

"She's the same age as the others," Dean commented.

Sam nodded, slightly panicked now.

You knew they were talking about the young women being killed. And you could tell that they weren't the murderers. That being said, it begged the question, who was it?

"Are you going to tell me what relevance this has given your current situation?"

"Well-" Sam began but was cut off by a police officer opening the door.

"Miss, are you okay here?" A young-ish police officer stuck his head in the room, his eyes fixing on you. You squirmed in your seat, his eyes made you go cold.

"Excuse me, officer?" You questioned as you stood up and turned to face the police officer.

"Smith." He gave you his last name.

"Officer Smith, in case you aren't aware of correct procedure here you don't interrupt meetings with council, there are strict confidentiality rules in place. Now leave and I won't report you to your superior, open this door without my permission again and I'll see you fired." You told him bluntly. For some reason there was a lot of activity for 3 in the morning.

He lingered, eyes roaming over you, a wolfish glint in his eyes. "I was informing you that i'm the only officer on shift so if you need anything come to me." Then with a curt nod he closed the door.

When you turned back around Sam and Dean were mouthing indistinct words to one another.

"What?" You asked, worrying more and more by the second.

"We're sorry to do this," Sam said.

You looked at him confused for a moment before you realised what had happened.

The cuffs were off.

In the time you had your back to them they had managed to silently pick the locks, without you or the officer realising.

You looked Sam in the eyes, he looked genuinely sorry but strangely determined.

No.

No. No. No.

Your mind raced, they couldn't could they?

You'd been so ready to help them, so prepared to take an outlandishly bold case. And this is what happens.

"Officer Smith!" You cried as loud as you could.

"Shit, shit, shit," Dean grumbled, "not him jesus christ you'd think you'd want to die, we don't even have any silver 'round here!"

Just as you were about to start questioning things the door burst open to your relief.

Thank god there was an officer to deesculate the situation. You were so relieved. You felt lighter, you felt relief.

Relief that lasted mere seconds as when you turned to face the officer, your supposed rescuer, it wasn't who or rather what you thought it would be.

It wasn't officer Smith, although the creature that stepped out bore an uncanny resemblance to him.

His nails were now sharp, long claws, he now had fangs and eyes resemble those of a wolf rather than of a man.

Your heart dropped.

"Any bright ideas sammy?" Dean asked as he pushed you and Sam into a corner.

"Not unless you have any silver." Sam replied, it was clear his mind was racing at 100 miles an hour.

"What the hell do you need silver for?!" You questioned as you were hiding in a corner behind Sam.

"Silver kills werewolves." Sam explained, surprisingly calm.

"Werewolves?!" You exclaimed, it felt like your whole world was falling to pieces in front of you. "You're saying that he's a werewolf?!"

"Yeah, which is why we really need silver or we're all dead." You were shocked at the bluntness of his response, however you were more shocked at the fact that he knew so much about werewolves. And words didn't even begin to explain how utterly confused, shocked and down right bewildered you were that werewolves actually existed. You wouldn't have believed him if it wasn't for your impending doom.

Suddenly an idea struck you.

You looked at Sam in the eyes. "And what, you just stab it with the silver and they're dead?"

"That's the gist of it, yeah."

You heard a loud smack as Dean collided with the wall.

Just as you were about to begin talking once more, the werewolf, officer smith, made its move to where you and Sam stood.

Sam put himself between you and the creature, his arm lingering on your shoulder.

"You're not getting to her." Sam almost growled at the beast ahead.

Adrenaline coursed through your veins. You had one shot not to die.

Officer Smith just laughed and easily threw Sam aside, leaving only you in the officer's wake.

"Don't take this personally," The creature said as it stalked towards you, trapping you against the wall, his clawed hand reaching up to you.

Suddenly, you pulled the silver pin out of your hair, clutching it in your hand like a knife, "it feels pretty personal." You commented before driving the makeshift weapon into his heart.

He looked at you pained, you could see the life fading from his eyes. Then he fell. A loud thud. He was dead.

Your hands shook. What had you just done? You had killed a man. No, not a man, a werewolf.

If those are real, then what else is out there that you thought was only folklore?

"Shit." Dean commented, slightly impressed, pulling himself up from the floor, "You could have told me, Sammy, that your law school buddy was badass."

You were still frozen on the spot, staring at the officer that lay dead on your feet. The police officer that you'd killed.

"Hey," you felt Sam's hands come to rest on either side of your face, you must not have noticed him getting up, he gently turned your face so that your eyes met his. "You're okay, you saved mine and Dean's life, you saved your own life."

All you could do was nod.

"He wasn't human," he said solemnly, "he was never going to stop killing, you did the right thing even though it doesn't feel like it, you did the right thing. I'm proud of you."

You nodded again, this time a question bubbled in your throat.

"If he's a werewolf, then...?" You trailed off uncertainty.

"Do you really want to know?" Sam asked, his gaze unwavering, he knew what you wanted to ask and him holding back gave you the terrifying confirmation you needed.

"I-" you began but stopped. You needed to know. You were in this world now whether you wanted to be or not, ignorance wouldn’t save you now. "yes."

Sam took a sharp intake of breath and nodded.

"It's all real, everything that you're told is just your imagination, or just stories or folklore; all of it is real." He said with such confidence you had no choice but to believe him. "That's why I left school, I had to come back to this life."

His statement seemed to knock the air out of you. So much information was swimming in your head at once.

"It wasn't an accident with Jess then? Something killed her, didn't it?"

"Yes."

"What..."

"A demon."

The information hit you like a truck, the only thing that's keeping you sane was Sam's hands on your face. His hands that steadied you. His hands that sorted out your hair. His hands that grounded you. Him, Sam, that gave you the strength to do what was necessary.

You had to focus now. You had to sort out the mess at your feet. You needed a plan.

"Okay," you almost whispered, Sam probably wouldn't have heard you if his eyes weren't fixed on your face, your lips.

"We need to sort this out," you said, gesturing to the body on the floor and stealing yourself against the development of your night. Your volume and confidence growing. "There are no cameras here due to attorney client privileges, so the narrative is ours to shape. If you lock me in these cuffs I can be hysterical when someone comes, say you broke out and he tried to protect me but failed, you took my hair pin as a makeshift weapon and stabbed him, and then you both locked me up and ran." You nodded and the narrative came together logically and coherently, they would have no reason for you to lie given what you'd just gone through. Or allegedly went through.

"Why didn't we just kill you?" Dean asked, pointing out a key flaw in the plan.

You paused briefly thinking.

"You didn't kill me because Sam remembered me and thought to spare my life." You said quietly, "It shows some humanity, which would help if for some reason you both ever went to trial."

"Okay anything else?" Sam asked, his hands still lingering on you.

"You took your file with you as well so you know everything the police have on you and you went and collected your stuff from the storage lockers which officer smith had the keys for." You concluded hinting at them as to what their next steps are.

The pair of them just looked at you stunned, Sam's hands falling from your face.

"Yeah, good plan." Dean looked you up and down, "I'll go and grab our stuff. Sammy, sort our lawyer out."

Dean bent down and took the keys from Smith's lifeless body and began walking down the hallways, whistling as he went. This was just another day in the office to him.

"You sure you want to do this?" Sam asked, "you'll face a lot of questions, you might slip up, today's been a lot I don't want to put you through anymore."

He was worried about you. Worried that this would be pinned on you. Worried that he just threw your life off course, just like what happened to him.

"I'll be fine Sam really." You assured him, "It's you I'm more worried about, I'm assuming this constitutes as your 'day job'?"

"Yeah, it's the family business." He said gesturing sarcastically around him, "saving people, hunting things."

"Must be tough, no connections just always on the run, basically alone." You looked at him uncertainly.

He avoided his gaze as he spoke. "I've got Dean and there is a good network of hunters."

"Hunters?" You questioned.

"People like us." He clarified.

"How is there a whole side of the world I didn’t even know about?" You said almost to yourself rather than to Sam.

"Most people don't." His reassuring words didn't do much to ease your mind.

"You said there's a 'good network' that implies that quite a few people do know."

A silence fell over the pair of you, which Sam took upon himself to break in a slightly awkward manner.

"Speaking of hunters..." He trailed off.

"What?" You asked, raising an eyebrow, "Think I should switch professions?" You mellow dramatically flexed your muscles causing Sam to laugh.

"No, no," he laughed, "Don't get me wrong you'd make a brilliant hunter but I'd rather not have to worry about you getting hurt."

His words sent a warm rush through your body. He would be worried about you.

"What is it then?" You asked.

"Well, a lot get caught by cops for murder and such when they actually just saved people's lives, since you're a solicitor"

"Not yet." You lightly corrected him.

"You're almost a qualified a solicitor," he amended, giving you a poignant look, "I was wondering if...." He trailed off uncertainly.

You filled in the blanks from his silence. He wanted you to be there contact. He wants to give you an expansive country wide clientele. He wanted to give you the freedom to escape while also being able to be there for your family. He was giving you your life on a silver platter.

"Past my details on, I'd be happy to do my bit." You say, a genuine smile passing your lips.

"Great, thanks." It was his turn to smile now. "I'll pass them onto this guy called Bobby. He kinda manages a lot of people in a way, everyone goes to him for advice and such, he'll get your contact information distributed." He explained rather quickly, almost awkward and self conscious in his cadence.

"Yeah, thanks."

"Thank you."

A silence fell over you both.

"I suppose I'd better erm..." Sam used his head to gesture to the cuffs of the table.

"Oh yeah," you laughed slightly, blush creeping up your neck, this whole situation was quite absurd.

The pair of you walked over to the table and you sat down. Somehow it now felt awkward between the two of you.

He gently placed your hands in the cuffs and tightened them. Then secured the cuffs so that you couldn't move. "You might be here a few hours I don't know when another officer will arrive I'm really sorry-"

You cut him off by grabbing his hand with your cuffed one. "Don't worry, I'll be fine." You reassured him, not quite ready to let go of his hand quite yet.

He gave your hand a gentle squeeze, "I'll call you as soon as I can so that way you have my number, okay?"

It was clear that neither of you wanted to leave this moment in the past, but with time being of the essence in Sam's case you both knew he couldn't stay here much longer.

"Okay." You confirmed with a nod of your head.

You both stilled. Hands still intertwined.

"Right well I... I'd better go." Sam said unconvincingly, lingering with his hand in yours for just a few more stolen seconds before he pulled away and walked towards the exit.

"Sam?" You said his name like a question, a prayer. You didn't want him to go. To leave you alone. You were scared. Or at least you knew you would be. With Sam here you felt safe, you felt a warmth around you. You didn't want to lose that, not just yet.

Sam wasted no time turning around when you called his name, waiting for you to speak again.

"Don't disappear from my life again."

A smile crept up his face that he tried to hide. It was his turn for his cheeks to turn a light shade of pink.

"Don't worry, I have no intentions of doing that." He walked back towards you, and held your hands again, "I promise."

His eyes were trained on yours, his beautiful eyes. They roamed your face for a moment, as if trying to commit every detail of you into memory. Then they lingered on your lips.

You felt your breath hitch as he leaned closer to you. His eyes quickly looked into yours for a split second as if to ask 'is this okay?' All you could do in response was nod.

And that's all he needed. You felt your eyes flutter shut as his lips gently and tentatively pressed against your own.

You felt yourself falling, more and more and more.

He pulled away all too soon. "I promise to call," he said as he pressed another quick kiss to your lips, it lasted only a split second but it was enough to send your head spinning once more.

As he made his way to the door he turned and gave you one final look before he disappeared from view.

The warmth that you felt lingered as you pressed your cuffed hands to your lips. Sam Winchester had just kissed you, twice. The very Sam Winchester who's currently wanted. At this moment you should have been thinking about the disastrous consequences of being caught, or the devastating news that monsters were actually real. However, all you could think about was his lips on yours and his promise that he would call. His promise that you knew he'd never break.

Who knew this night wouldn't turn out to be so boring after all? Maybe there was a silver lining being a duty solicitor.

♡♡♡

A/n: I started off using brittish law then, I just made it fit to the plot lmao, but one things for sure it's definitely not correct in terms of us law but it's fine...

Wc: 4.8k

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the-scarlet-witch-22 · 9 months

Text

Love and Liabilities: Chapter Two (Agatha Harkness/Fem!Reader)

Summary: The weekend before your last year of law schools begins, you celebrate the end of your summer associate position, where you meet an intriguing woman at the bar.

Word Count: 6.6k

Tags: 18+ Minors Do Not Engage!! Smut, dirty talk, light degradation kink

A/N: Hello! I’ll be in rehearsals this weekend so I’m updating a few days early. This chapter, as well as the next few, will be set in the past and marked accordingly. Thank you so much to everyone who read chapter one, I’m so glad you enjoyed it! If you’d like to be added to the tag-list let me know. As always, I hope you enjoy and feel free to let me know what you think. 🩵

Tag-List: @aggieslittleslut @gilmorelivie @ris-ris-mind @sabstance-blog

Ten Years Prior

There was something so enticing about law school. Every attorney you ever met would warn you not to pursue law. It was their biggest regret, they would bemoan, and share horror stories of mountain high piles of readings and difficult exams that would slowly weed out the unworthy. The hundreds of thousands of dollars you would invest that wouldn’t guarantee you to pass the ever dreaded Bar Exam. The world of law was much like a game of cat and mouse; with the law student being the meek mouse and the demanding law professors and your fellow students as the prowling cats. Despite the many, many, many warnings, you ignored them.

You were the first person in your family to decide you wanted to be an attorney, so you were shocked to learn the vast majority of your classmates already had major ins to some of the top law firms in the country. It didn’t seem to matter that you received a top LSAT score, or that you were also accepted into one of the top law schools in the country, just like them. None of that mattered, you were already hundreds of steps behind everyone else. So, you conditioned yourself to work even harder. Endless hours of studying in the library, attending every office hour your professors would offer, taking any opportunity you could to network with any attorney who would reply to you on LinkedIn.

There was an even more alluring pull for you to get into corporate law, or “Big Law.” It wasn’t just the temptingly sky-high salary, or the perks that came with working for a major firm, it was the reputation. The attorneys who worked in corporate law were practically guaranteed a job in whatever other field or firm they wanted to move to next, due to the prestigious reputation they’d previously acquired. Unfortunately, you were competing against the majority of your classmates, most of whom had those direct family connections. Your ambition would always get the better of you, as it merely made you work even harder.

Eventually it paid off, as you received a summer associate position at the end of your second year at the top corporate law firm in Manhattan, Stark & Strange. You spent your summer working alongside some of the more powerful attorneys in the industry, and received paychecks that were larger than anything you had ever seen prior. The firm paid for an Uber Black to take you to and from your shoebox law school apartment, and even gave you a free gym membership. Practically every meal was comped, as you were wined and dined at restaurants where the bill cost more than your rent. It was a foreign world to you, the grueling hours made up for by designer handbags and any luxury you never dreamed of being able to afford, especially not on a summer associate’s salary.

You made a point to stay as late as they needed, and always volunteered to assist various attorneys with whatever work they needed done. Most of it was grunt work, like looking over a contract for typos, or printing hundreds of documents, but you soaked everything up like a sponge. Despite the many hours you spent at the firm, you hardly ever saw the men whose names were on the building, Tony Stark and Stephen Strange. But, you were making good connections with a few of the other attorneys.

Maria Hill, one of the senior attorneys, usually requested for you to assist her on projects. She was only slightly terrifying, and practically ran the firm like the Navy. But, she was extremely knowledgeable and always made a point to introduce you to anyone she deemed important enough. Towards the end of the summer you were working on a tedious editing assignment from one of the junior attorneys, when Maria sent you an email to stop by her office before the end of the day. This wasn’t entirely unusual, as she sometimes wanted your help with a last minute deal, and she would almost always DoorDash whatever meal you wanted if you stayed long enough.

Once you finally finished your assignment, you packed up your belongings and made your way to the top floor where Maria’s office was located. Stark & Strange was a towering skyscraper in the center of Manhattan. Even though you were in a smaller office with a few of the other summer associates, you still had a breathtaking view of the skyline. Many called the design a waste of time and money, but those people clearly never met Tony Stark. No expense was spared when designing the project, and Maria told you it took over a decade to complete. But, when you’re a multimillionaire attorney, money was but a mere object. The hallways were becoming more familiar as the weeks passed, and it was a bittersweet feeling when you remembered your time was almost up.

The door to Maria’s office was slightly ajar, but you still knocked and waited for her curt response for you to enter. She was sitting at her desk, her dark hair pulled back in a tight bun, glasses hanging low on her face as she appeared to be typing. Her office was one of your favorites, it was so open and had a comfortable atmosphere. She had a variety of plants placed throughout the room, and you figured she must have a green thumb, but her paralegal once quietly shared how Maria often committed one of the worst sins of gardening…overwatering. You awkwardly stood near the doorway, contemplating if you should come back when she appeared to be less busy.

As if she sensed your hesitation, she gently shut her laptop, and placed her glasses on the desk, looking up at you. “Sorry about that, Stephen needed a contract updated before tonight.” She motioned to an empty chair. “Come, sit.”

Taking a seat, you nervously folded your hands across your lap, setting your bag on the ground next to your feet. “So, you wanted to see me?”

“I did,” Maria confirmed, giving you a curious glance. “Your last day is tomorrow, right?”

You nodded, and felt a twinge of sadness at the thought. “My first day of classes is next Monday.”

Maria hummed, a thoughtful appearance on her face. “This is your last year of school?”

“Yes ma’am,” You replied, unsure of why she was asking you this.

“Tony and Stephen like to take out a select group of the summer associates every year for celebratory drinks,” Maria explained, and you swore you saw her roll her eyes ever so slightly before adding, “It’s mostly an excuse for Tony to brag more about the firm, but the drinks are free, and strong.”

Your eyebrows furrowed, you didn’t realize they were having another dinner. “Oh, well that sounds nice.”

Maria nodded before continuing talking. “They usually ask the senior attorneys to each invite one of the summer associates, and my pick was you.”

You felt your eyes widen, she picked you? Shaking your nerves aside, you gave her a wide smile. “Thank you so much, Ms. Hill. I’m honored.”

“It’s my pleasure,” Maria insisted, standing up and motioning for you to join her. “I know I’ve asked a lot of you this summer, but you rose to the challenge.”

Lightly blushing, you waited for her to grab her briefcase before you followed her out of the office. “I didn’t mind, I actually really enjoyed all of it.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Maria said, and she seemed sincere. “I believe Tony made the reservation for eight o’clock, but I’ll send you the details in the morning. Thank you again, I’ve appreciated your help.”

The elevator doors opened and you bid her farewell, as she went down the hallway to see if her wife was still working or was wrapping up. You could hardly believe it, sure you were sad that your summer was just about up, but you were one of the few associates selected for a special night out with all of the top attorneys and partners. A few of your classmates told you the partners would occasionally extend job offers to the top performing summer associates for when they graduated and passed The Bar, but you knew there was a slim chance of that happening to you.

Your last day flew by. You weren’t assigned much actual “work”, instead you spent most of the day chatting with the other summer associates and a few of the junior attorneys. Before you knew it, you were signing out for the last time, and handing in your key card and laptop on your way out. Maria had her paralegal forward you all the details, the bar they selected was yet another establishment you normally wouldn’t be able to afford, The Raines Law Room at The William Hotel. One of your roommates went there once with her parents, and gushed about how pretty and unique the space was, so you were excited to see it for yourself. The firm had allotted you one more Uber on their card, and you fully intended to use it.

The drive was surprisingly short, as traffic was relatively light for a Friday night. You sent your roommates a text reminding them that you’d be out late, before focusing your attention out the window. It had almost been three years since you moved to New York for law school, against your parents wishes, and you were still in awe of it. Yes, it was filthy, and there were rats and cockroaches galore, but every major city was dirty. New York was full of history and culture; there were thousands of places to explore, and millions of other people who were trying to find where they fit into this beautiful, messy story. You couldn’t imagine living anywhere else.

You arrived at the bar just before eight, you had a habit of needing to be early for every social function you attended. The Raines Law Room was everything your roommate described, and even more so in person. It wasn’t the usual type of bar you’d go to, and it was broken up into multiple rooms with the actual bar in the center of it all. Many of the rooms were furnished with bookcases and cozy, expensive furniture that reminded you of a library. It didn’t take you long to find your group, as Tony had apparently rented one of the private rooms. There were only around twenty people in attendance, Maria wasn’t kidding when she told you it would be a small gathering. You recognized two of the other associates who had been invited, Kate Bishop and Yelena Belova, and you gave them a friendly wave.

Maria was in the corner of the room, sitting on one of the couches with her wife, Natasha Romanov. You’d only briefly encountered the redhead, as she did a lot of international travel for the firm. They were speaking with Tony Stark, the latter who appeared to be at the end of telling a very animated story. Maria noticed you lingering, and waved you over once Tony finished talking. You awkwardly made your way over, trying not to trip in the process; you’d always been terribly clumsy. There was an empty spot next to Maria, so you took a seat.

“I’m glad you could make it,” Maria warmly greeted you. “Do you remember my wife, Natasha?”

“Of course, it’s great to see you again,” You said to the woman sitting on the other side of Maria.

Natasha offered you a small smile, wrapping her arm around Maria’s shoulder. “Maria’s been telling me all summer how much of a help you’ve been, and believe me, she doesn’t praise just anyone.”

Maria nudged Natasha’s shoulder. “That’s not true, I just have high expectations, unlike someone.”

Natasha playfully rolled her eyes. “Right, of course dear.” She turned to Tony, who was scrolling through his phone. “Have you met Maria’s young mentee, Stark?”

He looked up at the mention of his name, and his eyes landed on you. “Oh right, I remember you. Maria’s been raving about you for the past few months, and Natasha’s right, that’s a pretty rare occurrence for her.”

Maria glared at him, clearly unamused. “Funny as always, Tony.”

Sticking out his hand, you took it and gave it a firm shake. “Thank you so much for the opportunity this summer, Mr. Stark. I’ve learned so much.”

Tony waved his hand in dismissal. “Don’t mention it. Have you met my other platonic, legal half? He’s probably lurking around here somewhere.”

“Most likely avoiding you,” Natasha quipped to Tony, her eyes scanning the room. “Looks like he’s over by my sister.”

Her sister? You turned your head to look around the room, until you saw Stephen lightly conversing with Yelena. You didn’t realize she was Natasha’s sister, and Natasha seemed to note your confusion.

“Yelena doesn’t like people to know we’re related,” Natasha explained, her tone more gentle as her eyes were locked on her sister. “She thinks people will say she only got the position because I work here.”

“Well she’s not entirely wrong,” Tony offered, ignoring the glare Natasha gave him, before wildly waving his arms to get Stephen’s attention. It didn’t take long for Stephen to notice, and you watched him frown.

“Did you need something, Tony?” Stephen questioned, annoyance clear by his tone.

“Well you keep lecturing me on not offering the summer associates jobs without you being present,” Tony pointed out, “God forbid I have any fun.”

“I only told you that because you once tried to convince half of them they could only have the job if they signed a contract saying they could only refer to you as their Overlord,” Stephen pointed out, and Natasha briefly snickered before Maria shot her a disapproving look.

“It was a joke!” Tony exclaimed, pointing at you. “Back me up here, if I told you that, you would know I was joking, right?”

“Um…” You trailed off, your brain replaying what he had just said to Stephen about jobs. “I’d probably have to read the contract first.”

Tony sighed, “The world isn’t what it used to be. Fine then, Strange, you’re up.”

Stephen sat down next to Tony, and just like the latter did, he stuck his hand out for you to shake. “It’s nice to formally meet you. Maria’s kept us up to date on all the work you’ve been completing. How have you enjoyed your summer at the firm?”

“It’s been the most wonderful opportunity,” You raved, wondering if this conversation was heading where you desperately hoped it was. “I’m so grateful for everything I’ve learned.”

Stephen nodded, “We’re always happy to see our summer associates take the opportunity to use all of the resources we have available. Now, at the end of every summer, we like to ask our senior attorneys if they would like to refer anyone for a job. Maria, as well as a handful of others, all recommended you.”

Your brain short circuited, not quite believing what you were hearing. “You’re offering me a job?”

“We’d like to invite you to join the firm as a junior associate once you’ve graduated and passed The Bar,” Stephen continued, and you felt faint. “It’s a written offer that we can send to you on Monday morning.”

“That you’ll have one of the paralegals email out on Monday morning,” Tony corrected him before looking back to you. “What do you say? Do you want to join the greatest firm in the city? The salary is competitive, of course. Full benefits and all.”

Natasha snickered again, only this time Maria didn’t try to stop her, and you remembered how Maria mentioned Tony liked to take this time to brag. There were so many emotions swirling around in your head, but you were mostly in shock.

Stephen seemed to notice you were overwhelmed. “You can take the weekend to think it over, and take a look at the offer on Monday. I’m sure this is a lot to take in all at once.”

You nodded, grateful for that. “Thank you so much, Mr. Strange, Mr. Stark. I’m so thankful for the opportunity.”

“We’ll talk on Monday,” Tony reiterated, standing up, and practically dragged Stephen with him. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you so much,” You acknowledged Maria, who had been quietly conversing with Natasha. “I honestly can’t believe this is really happening.”

“You deserve it,” Maria insisted, relaxing ever so slightly against Natasha. “Congratulations, and I hope we’ll be working together again next summer.”

“You’re getting soft in your old age,” Natasha lightly teased her wife, giving you a wink. “Congratulations, and good luck on your final year of school.”

You thanked them both for a final time, before letting them have some privacy. There were still so many thoughts rushing through your brain, and the room was so bright and so loud, you needed to clear your head. As you started walking out of the room, you entered the main bar and decided that you didn’t need to clear your head, you needed a drink. The bar was fairly quiet, with a few patrons scattered throughout the room. You made your way to an empty stool, and waited for the bartender to finish making a drink before you ordered a vodka tonic.

There was hardly anyone else sitting at the bar, except for a woman a few stools down from you. She had dark brown hair, tucked behind her ears, and she was sipping on a glass of some variety of red wine. From a quick glance, you could see she was reading something on her phone, and you watched the frown lines on her forehead deepen every so often as she continued to scroll. The bartender came back with your drink, and you thanked him before taking a small sip.

“Come here often?” An unfamiliar voice asked, and you curiously turned your head to find the woman a few stools down was now staring at you.

“I beg your pardon?” You replied in confusion, wondering if she was talking to you.

The woman arched an eyebrow at you, and you felt your cheeks flush under her heated gaze. She stayed in her seat, but her eyes remained locked on yours. “Some people would call that a pick up line, but not you apparently.”

“Do you often hit on strangers in a bar?” You questioned, watching her take a sip of her wine.

“Well if you came and sat next to me, you wouldn’t be much of a stranger,” The woman countered, and patted the bar stool next to her.

This was crazy, you reasoned with yourself. This woman could be a lunatic, or a serial killer. But she was looking at you with an expression you couldn’t decipher, and her eyes were so blue that you could feel yourself slowly getting lost in them. Before you fully realized what you were doing, you scooted over until you were sitting next to her. Her red lips turned up in a smirk, and she shut her phone off, placing it in her bag. There was something so intriguing about her, but you couldn’t pinpoint what it was.

“So what brings a pretty little thing like yourself here on a Friday night?” She asked curiously, her eyes hungrily searching yours, and you could feel your cheeks begin to darken at her words. You weren’t used to anyone looking at you the way she was.

“Um, I’m here for a work event,” You said quietly, unsure of how much information you were willing to share with a stranger. “An internship event, rather. What about you?”

The woman nodded, taking another sip of wine. “Mmm, this and that. I’m staying at The William for a few nights while my place gets redecorated,” There was a sparkling glint in her eyes as she added, “And there’s a rather spectacular view of the city from my room.”

The color deepened in your cheeks, and you chose to take a rather large sip of your drink. “Oh, that’s…interesting.”

“Isn’t it though,” The woman agreed, and you watched her fingers lightly twirl around the glass in her hand. “I never got your name, darling.”

“You didn’t ask,” You pointed out, and she smirked at you.

“Feisty thing, aren’t you?” She guessed, gracefully scooting her stool closer to yours, looking at you expectantly.

There was something so addictive about the way she was staring at you, and it made you lower your guard as you told her your name. She let out another low hum, and repeated it back to you, saying it nice and slowly, drawing out each syllable. At this point, she was close enough that you could smell her perfume. The rich notes of vanilla and lavender swirled together through your senses, and you felt yourself becoming more and more distracted. Taking another large sip of your drink, you realized it was nearly empty. The woman also seemed to notice, as she waved the bartender over.

“What are you drinking, dear?” She asked, her voice sweet like honey.

“A vodka tonic,” You replied, and she slid your empty glass towards the bartender.

“Another one of those, please, as well as a Pinot Noir. Put her drinks on my tab,” She instructed the bartender, ignoring your protest that you could pay for your own drinks.

“Don’t be silly,” She gently chided you, one of her hands moving up to brush your hair out of your face. “You have gorgeous eyes, has anyone ever told you that?”

Every compliment was leaving you more flustered than the last, and you had no idea how she was having this strong of an effect on you. It was the alcohol, your brain reasoned, that had to be it. “No, not really,” You replied, your voice growing more timid.

The woman let out a disapproving tsk, her fingers lingering on your face before slowly pulling away. “Disappointing, but not surprising.”

The bartender returned at that moment with your drinks, and you mumbled a quiet thank you, hoping this would give you some liquid courage. You realized at that moment she never told you her name.

Clearing your throat, you did your best not to sound as intimated as you were. She was this beautiful, sort of menacing, and slightly strange woman. You didn’t want to humiliate yourself. “You know, for someone who hounded me for my name, it’s a little odd you never told me yours.”

The woman smirked again, and you thought you saw her lick her lips. “You never asked, dear,” she pointed out, and her fingers reached out to lightly brush yours. “I’m Agnes.”

Her touch, light as it was, felt like a shock of electricity coursing through your system. You kept waiting for her to let go of your hand, but instead she gently turned it so your palm was visible, and began tracing patterns on it as she sipped her wine.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Agnes,” You said, your courage slowly disappearing, and you weren’t sure what it was that you wanted from her, you just knew you didn’t want her to stop touching you.

Agnes laughed, the rich sound ringing deliciously in your ears. “Believe me, honey, the pleasure is all mine.”

The hand stroking your palm began to make its way up your arm, and you were embarrassed by the goosebumps you felt by having her hands on you. Agnes also seemed to notice this reaction, and she was looking as if she wanted to eat you alive. She leaned in closer to you, her breath hot on your ear as she whispered, “I don’t normally do this, but I’d love to continue this discussion in my hotel room. Would you care to join me?”

It would seem tonight was just full of surprises. Her face was so close to yours, and your brain was still actively short circuiting. You’d barely spent any time with this woman, and you only knew her first name, but it didn’t matter. It was clear what this was, a one night stand. This didn’t have to mean anything, and you were riding a high from your job offer; you didn’t want it to mean anything. All you knew was that her breath was hot in your ear, and her fingers were lightly gripping your arm, and you wanted more. No, you needed more. You needed her.

Fearing you wouldn’t be able to produce any actual words, you wordlessly nodded in agreement. Agnes proceeded to close out her tab, and you made a quick note of the Black AmEx card the bartender returned to her. She guided you out of the room, her hand grazing your lower back. You felt like you were floating, and the only thing grounding you to reality was the feel of her fingers stroking your back, slowly moving lower with every step you took.

Upon reaching the elevators, Agnes waited for you to enter before following, and pressed the button for her floor. As soon as the doors closed, it was as if a switch went off. Her hands were all over you, and within a moment you were against the wall of the elevator. While her right hand stayed pressed against your back, moving down to grab at your ass, her left moved up to gently cup your cheek, forcing you to look at her. Her eyes began to darken with arousal, and before you could even process what was happening she kissed you.

You’d been kissed before, and you thought you knew how good it could be, but that was nothing compared to the feel of her lips against yours. She kissed you with fervor, like a woman starving and you were her salvation. Her lips were so soft and smooth against your own, it was addictive. As she lightly slapped your ass, bringing you impossibly closer to her, you let out a moan and she took that opportunity to slip her tongue between your lips. She tasted faintly of Pinot Noir, and you eagerly allowed her to dominate your mouth. Her hips jutted against yours, creating just enough friction for you to imagine how much better it would feel to have more.

The elevator dinged, signaling you were at her floor, and she reluctantly broke your kiss. You let out a quiet whine and Agnes chuckled, leaning in to whisper, “Patience, honey. My room is right down the hallway.”

She nearly had to drag you along, as your legs were starting to shake, and the walk to her room seemed endless. When you finally reached it, she hurriedly tapped her keycard to unlock the door. Yanking you inside, she slammed your back against the door, capturing your lips in a heated kiss. Wasting no time, she began messing with the clasp of your dress, and as it became undone she helped you out of it, leaving you in your bra and panties. The older woman let out a low growl, and pulled you flush against her. Moving you towards the bed, she nearly tore your bra and panties off in the process, before laying you flat on your back.

She straddled your hips, and when you attempted to move your hands up to her waist she swatted them back down. “Be a good girl and behave,” Agnes warned lightly. “I’d hate to have to restrain you.”

You couldn’t stop the moan that left your lips at that threat. Agnes smirked again, taking her shirt off and tossing it across the room, revealing a lacy dark purple bra. She leaned down and kissed you again, lightly biting your lower lip, causing you to groan into her mouth. It felt like she was all around you, but you needed more. You always prided yourself on your patience, but you were quickly losing it. Her lips left yours to trail down your jaw and the side of your neck, stopping near your collarbone. She began to leave hot, wet kisses along it, before biting down on the flesh at the base of your neck and sucking.

“Fuck,” You cried out at the sensation, and you heard her let out a low hum in response, keeping up her ministrations.

She left dozens of marks on you, and you were too lost in the haze of how good she felt to remember you were starting classes in two days. Her hands were relentless, moving all over your body. As her lips began to alternate attention between your breasts, her right hand moved between your thighs, and you both moaned as she felt how wet you were.

“Is all this for me, baby?” She murmured, raising her head up to yours, using two fingers to lightly tease your aching pussy. “What a pretty girl, dripping for me.”

Moaning, you arched your hips up, she was so close and you needed her fingers inside, filling you. “Please, Agnes.”

Letting out a low tutting noise, she pulled her fingers back. You whined, louder this time, and her responding grin sent a shiver down your spine. “Please what, honey? Tell me what you want.”

“Fuck me,” You begged, desperate to feel her fingers on you again. “Please, fuck me.”

“Good girl,” Agnes praised you, roughly thrusting two fingers inside you, going deeper than you normally could on your own.

Her fingers were so long, and so good, as she set a fast pace, twisting and hitting all of the sweet spots in you. You could barely breathe, all you could focus on was how good it felt to have her fucking you. Her thumb rubbed gentle circles on your clit, and the added stimulation made you cry out. You were soaked, the movement of her fingers taking you created an obscenely filthy sound that filled the room. It didn’t take long until you felt a familiar unraveling, signaling you were close to orgasming.

“Such a good little whore, you’re taking me so well,” Agnes cooed and you felt yourself clench at her words. “Do you like this? Do you like having me fuck your tight little cunt?”

“Oh my fucking-” You cried out, but were cut off as she chose that moment to add a third finger, expertly curling them and bringing you that much closer to your release.

“That’s it, slut,” Agnes growled, fucking you even harder. “Fuck, you feel so fucking good around my fingers.”

“Agnes, please,” You whined, needing to feel yourself come undone. “Please I need…”

Agnes smirked, not relenting in her efforts, and began to leave kisses around the edge of your mouth. “What do you need, baby? Use your words for me.”

“Need to come, please. I need to come,” You babbled, as she took you higher and higher with every thrust of her fingers, and your words caused the older woman to groan.

“Come on my fingers, sweetheart,” Agnes ordered, and you felt yourself lose focus as the pleasure overcame you.

It was mind numbingly good, and you barely recognized the scream that left your throat. All you could feel were her fingers inside you, gently coaxing you through your orgasm. Her fingers slowly stilled, and you felt yourself pulse around them as her thumb gently eased off your clit. Pressing a sweet, slow kiss against your lips, Agnes pulled her fingers out, causing you to whine at how empty you felt.

“You took me so well,” Agnes purred, and you felt yourself drip even more at her words. “Such a slutty little pussy, you can’t even form complete sentences when I’m fucking you.”

You groaned, the filth spewing out of her mouth was a major turn on for you. “It’s not my fault you’re turning my brain into mush.”

Agnes fake pouted at you. “Oh, poor baby,” She mocked, pressing her hips against yours. “It’s a good thing you don’t need to use that little brain while I’m fucking you.”

“Want to taste you,” You moaned out, the idea just popping into your head. “Please.”

“Oh? You want to eat me out, baby?” Agnes questioned, her eyes growing darker yet still from arousal. “Do you want me to ride that pretty little face?”

“Fuck yes,” You begged, causing Agnes to chuckle before taking off her pants and panties, and moving you closer to the headboard before she straddled your face.

You could smell her; the scent was musky and sweet and you were salivating, sticking your tongue out in anticipation. Agnes rested one hand on the headboard and the other in your hair, slowly lowering herself onto your mouth. You wasted no time, licking and sucking, tasting her arousal. The guttural moan she let out spurred you on, eager to please her. She tasted so fucking good, and your tongue lapped up as much of her as you could. Her fingers tightened in your hair as she began to rock against your face, and you moaned against her as she roughly tugged.

“Fuck, you’re such a good girl, baby,” Agnes panted as she moved her hips faster. “You’re doing so well. Such a good job. Suck on my clit.”

Ever hoping to please her, you switched to swirling your tongue around her clit before sucking, hard. The moan she let out, louder than before, was entrancing. Her fingers kept your head in place as she rode your face, and you could sense her getting closer to the edge. Your tongue teased her entrance, slowly pushing inside and Agnes let out a loud hiss, encouraging you to go deeper.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Fuck,” Agnes began to grind down, getting closer with every thrust of your tongue. “Such a sweet fucking mouth. Do you want me to come all over that pretty face?”

Nodding against her, you sucked and licked, thoroughly enjoying being used by her. It wasn’t long before she began to shudder, hips thrusting even harder against your face as she let herself go. She tugged on your head as she lost herself in the throes of pleasure, and you never saw something quite so beautiful. Her eyes were closed, head back as she let out several loud grunts, the sound causing you to twitch. You moaned at the taste of her cum, eager to get as much as you could. Her hips slowly stopped, and she gave herself a moment before lifting herself off of you, collapsing on the bed. She immediately pulled you closer, wrapping her arms around you. Her body was flush against yours, and you relished at the feeling of her tits pressed against your back. She was so soft, and so warm; every part of her felt like heaven to you.

She began to nuzzle your neck, pressing gentle kisses against your skin. “Fuck that was so good. Thank you, honey.”

“It was my pleasure,” You drawled out, growing more tired with every word you spoke, slowly feeling yourself drift off.

Agnes murmured something to you, but you were too far gone to hear what she said. The last thing you remembered was the feel of her body curled up around you as you finally passed out from exhaustion. You weren’t sure how long you slept, for when you finally woke up the room was filled with bright sunlight, causing you to wince. It didn’t take you long to realize you were alone, and the already large bed felt ten sizes too big. A part of you wondered if Agnes was in the bathroom, but when you eventually made it out of bed you realized she was gone. The room was completely empty, save for you and your clothes from last night.

You weren’t entirely sure what you had expected, it was a one night stand after all. But, you had assumed she would at least still be there in the morning when you woke up. Shaking those thoughts aside, you rushed to pick up your clothes and get dressed. As you were putting on your clothes, you noticed a small folded up note with your name on it on the bedside table. You slipped your heels back on before grabbing it, and was slightly disappointed to see how short it was.

Thanks again for a great night. -A

Well, at least she left you something. You crumpled the note and stuck it in your purse, leaving the room without a second thought. The next two days were spent in a daze, trying to get everything ready for the start of classes. Your roommates were thrilled to hear about your job offer, and even more intrigued to hear of your night out with an older woman. You kept the details to a minimum, as you always kept those things more private, but they enjoyed it nonetheless. By the time Sunday night rolled around you were absolutely spent. You had just finished marking up your planner for the next few weeks with your class schedule, and double checked the time for your first class as you set your alarm for bed before finally drifting to sleep.

Unfortunately, the exhaustion from the last few days made you sleep through your alarms, which almost never happened. But, after hearing your alarms go off one after another, one of your roommates came to check on you, the knocking on your door sent you shooting out of bed. You rushed through the apartment, throwing your laptop and books in your bag. As you were getting dressed, your eyes landed on the hickeys all over your neck, and you groaned. Great. Despite it still being summer, and extremely hot in the city, you wore a lightweight turtleneck. The lecture halls and library were usually freezing, so this wouldn’t seem too out of place to anyone.

Luckily your apartment was only a few blocks away from campus, and it never took you more than ten minutes to get there. You kept obsessively checking your watch, hoping to make it to your first class in time. Finally, you reached the correct building, and pulled up the class schedule on your phone to check which room you were in. Whipping around the corner, you spotted the door at the far end of the hallway. With one minute to go, you passed other students and professors, not a thought in your mind besides making it through those doors. Reaching the lecture hall, you opened the doors and went inside.The hall was relatively full, and as you searched for an empty seat you heard your professor begin to speak.

“Welcome to Ethics and Professional Responsibility in Criminal Practice.”

Wait a second, you knew that voice. How did you know that voice? You looked up, finding the last person you ever expected to run into, and you almost fell out of your chair. Standing there on the floor of the lecture hall was a strikingly familiar woman. It was the same woman from the other night, Agnes. Her messy dark brown hair was pulled back into an updo, and she wore an expensive looking black pantsuit. She was pulling up a slideshow on the laptop, so her back was turned, but it was her. You knew it was her. The strange thing was you didn’t remember reading her first name on the syllabus that had been sent out a few weeks prior.

After she finished projecting the slideshow, she turned her focus to the crowded lecture hall. “For those of you who don’t know me, my name is Agatha Harkness,” Her eyes scanned the room, until they eventually landed on you, and you watched her freeze, before quickly regaining her composure. “And I’ll be your professor for the semester.”

Fuck.

#agatha harkness x reader #agatha harkness #wandavision au #marvel au #agatha harkness smut #agatha harkness fanfiction #agatha all along #lawyer au

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sweet-creature101 · 1 year

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New York Streets & Dreams

Harry Styles, a classic New York law firm grump meets a wild spirited girl, Y/N when he argues with her on a road intersection.

Grump!harry; a grump x sunshine trope.

warnings: mention of alcohol, swearing. Suggestive language.

The songs playing in your headphones pumped your head with a string of melodies. You hum with a smile on your face, riding your bicycle in the warm sun taking in the city around you. Your paint splattered hands, still a bit wet grip the bicycle handle as you steer it around the city.

You steer around the busy and bustling roads, whisked away in a world of your own. You paid no heed to the rushing cars, staying near the footpath. Many had often told you not to cycle, especially during rush hour since the streets would be jam packed. “Walking, driving or going in a cab isn’t the same as cycling y’know?” You’d always say when the question was risen as to why you cycle.

You were about to turn right when a series of honks stops you right in your path. You yank down your headphones harshly and look around, an annoyed look beginning to form on your face.

“You!”

You whip your head to meet that voice. You see a man, dressed in a blue blazer over a white shirt with trousers step down from his Mercedes, his face morphed into a furious expression.

“What?” You ask harshly, your bicycle still parked right in front of his car.

“Look around woman! I would’ve run you over.” He shouts at you over the loud traffic.

“I was on my side of the lane. You’re the one who decided last minute to take the turn!” You yell back with equal anger as you meet his steel gaze, your own unflinching.

“You had your headphones on! If you would’ve looked around, we wouldn’t be here!” He said, even more annoyed than before now.

“What do you want? You know what, I offer you my sincerest fucking apology! Leave me alone!” You said, your coloured hands flailing in the air.

“An apology? Thats not good enough. You need to be aware of your surroundings.” He countered, his arms crossing over his chest.

“And you need to chill out. It’s just a traffic jam!” You exclaimed, your voice a pitch higher.

“You don’t understand! I almost ran you over!” You were certain that the man in front was giving out literal smoke now.

“Yeah, well I’m still here so calm down.” You said sarcastically. Your hands come down and rest at either side of your hip.

“You’re unbelievable. I can’t do this.” He said, huffing out a breath of disbelief.

“Fine. Suit yourself.” You said shrugging as you sat on your bicycle. And began to cycle.

“Watch where you’re going!” The man yelled for the last time.

Harry checked his watch again and again, contemplating if going out with his friends was a good decision considering how his utter shit his day had been. He had reached his office late because of a mishap that involved him arguing with a pretty girl in between a traffic jam which earned him an earful from his colleagues.

He looked around the neon street, the coloured lights metling into the dark night sky above him. He wondered, when he was the last time he went out with friends. When was the last time he went just as Harry, not as a top shot lawyer? When was the last time he didn’t think about work?

He couldn’t remember.

“Harry! I’m so happy you made it!” Lindsey, smiled and encased him in a hug.

Lindsay had been begging Harry to join her and her friends since the last two months. Harry as always, had politely refused saying that his workload was far too much. However, Lindsey wasn’t short of surprise when Harry called her late this afternoon and said he wanted to join her.

“I’m only here so that I don’t have to deal with you for the next two months.” Harry said rolling his eyes playfully. Lindsey smacked his arm and dragged him in the club.

It was large semi circle couch nestled in the back corner with a mammoth sized round wood table fitted in it like a puzzle piece.

Lindsey dragged Harry all the way to the back of the club where he spotted a few familiar faces. All of them waved to Harry and Harry said to hi them.

“Where’s Y/N?” Lindsey asked as she slid onto the seat.

“In the washroom.” A friend, Niall said before downing a shot in one go earning an impressed looking from Harry in return.

“You’ll love Y/N.” Lindsey said, winking at Harry who was still standing. He only gave her a slight smile.

Harry was about to go to the washroom before a voice boomed, seeming quite familiar.

“You! Oh my God you’re stalking me!” You yelled at him, your face showing how furious you are. Everyone at the table stopped eating and drinking because all their focus was fixated on you.

“What the fuck!” Harry said, his eyes widening at the accusation you hurled at him.

“You try to kill me first and now that I’m alive even after your murder attempt, you decide to do the deed here.” You said, referring to his attempt at ‘mudering’.

“Are you stupid?” Harry asked you in utter disbelief.

“No but I have a gun!” You said, not realising that you hadn’t even brought your purse with you tonight.

“Yeah, well where is it then?” Harry asked you, crossing his arms as he eyed you up and down like a predator assessing his prey.

“It’s none of your business!” You yell at him, realising that he caught you lying red handed. You size him up, your arms crossing over your chest.

“So I guess you two have met already. Harry this is Y/N, Y/N this is Harry.” Lindsey murmured from her side of the table, the overhanging lamp illuminating only a small part of her face.

“For the record, you and I know both know I didn’t try to kill you.” Harry said, his eyebrows raised as a wary look danced in his eyes.

“Fine.” You said.

“Great now that’s over, let’s get this party started!” Niall yelled, with excitement as the whole table broke out in a couple of hoots.

As the night proceeded, you downed drink after drink and danced like there would be no tomorrow. The lights flashing around you merged into your skin. The music blaring around you was pumping life into you.

In the corner of your eye, you see Harry who was leaning against the wall, a drink that he had been drinking for the past half hour still in his hand as he looked around with a bored look etched on his face. You walk toward him, your steps much more confident now because of a few drinks you had.

If your circumstance wasn’t so compelling you might have thought Harry to be quite an attractive man. You could make out the sculpted muscles of his biceps and abdomen through his shirt.

Harry watched you intently, drinking in your frame with every movement of yours. He didn’t fail to notice how wondrous your body looked in that little white dress you paired with a metal chain waist belt which had blue stones engraved on it, resting on the swell of your hips.

“You look as if you’re at a funeral.” You snickered, coming to stand close to him. Your forearms touch and you feel your focus narrow to the sparks of fire you felt coming from there.

Harry let his lips show a sliver of smile, a chuckle coming out of him.

“Ah well I’m not really in the mood to dance or party tonight.” Harry said shrugging slightly.

“What! You’re at a club, with such amazing people. Come on, if you’re not gonna dance on your own then dance with me.” You said smiling at him as your turn your face to look at him, admiring how the dancing lights accentuated his eyes and upraised cheekbones and his plush lips.

“You’re drunk, arent ya?” Harry asked you.

“It takes me more than three sleazy drinks to get drunk.” You said patting his arm.

“Well, I can’t really dance.” Harry said, evidently stalling like a five year old.

“It’s about having fun Harry.”

Those words somehow snapped a leash on Harry which he didn’t know existed. You extended your hand towards him that he gladly took.

Harry never knew he could have that much fun. He danced all night with you, drinking to his hearts content and screaming every song that played, even the ones he swore he’d never listen, ‘stupid pop music’ he called those same songs.

His hands were on your waist now and you broke out in a string of giggles, the alcohol in your system heightening every feeling. Harry looked at you and marvelled at your face, how pretty it looked and smiled at you softly drawing you closer to him.

“If you hadn’t tried mudering me this morning, I would’ve called you handsome y’know.” You said flicking his nose.

“I’m sorry. It wasn’t my intention to murder you.” Harry said smiling.

“God, you’re so handsome Harry.”

Harry woke up with a groan as he clutched his head. He looked around and found himself in a room he couldn’t recognise. There were sun catchers hanging from the large window which was installed, as large as a wall casting sparkles all over the room. There were plush colourful stuff toys strewn all over the orange couch opposite to the bed he found himself in. He looked over and saw you sleeping.

The sight of you alone nearly knocked out his breath.

You slowly you open your eyes and once the realisation hits, you scramble out of the bed, looking at yourself and then Harry. You were in an oversized tee shirt of yours while Harry was in a pair of boxers.

“Did we?” You ask him, standing barefoot at your wooden floor.

“No, we were too out of it.” Harry said looking at you.

“Oh thank God.” You sighed, your shoulders slumping. “Wait, it’s not like I don’t want to do it with you, seriously don’t take it that way-”

“Hmmm.” Harry hummed, clearly amused with your state of chaos.

“I dont want to do it with you if we’re like.. drunk and all. I’d rather be stone cold sober.” You said.

“I’ll keep that in mind Y/N.” Harry said chuckling.

“Oh my God I’ll just shut up.” You said, covering your face with your hand.

Harry looked at the time and got up, stretching. You avoided the urge to look at his sculpted arms, chest and stomach but you managed to sneak in a few glances.

“I’ve got a case to prepare for. I’ll text you in a few.” Harry said as he buttoned his white shirt.

“You don’t have my number.” You said.

“But Lindsey does.” Harry said shrugging.

He wore his trousers and grabbed his stuff. Before leaving he ran a hand over your hair playfully. He then snaked an arm around your waist and tugged you towards him. You bit down a gasp at the sudden movement and closeness that was now there.

“I’d kiss you if i wasn’t so late for work.” Harry said.

“Are you making excuses Harry?” You said, peering up at him as you rested your hands on his chest.

“I’m waiting for the right moment Love.” He said.

He dipped his head and kissed the corner of your lips. He slowly moved his lips over yours. You could feel them hovering over yours. You could imagine and feel how kissing him would be like, sparks running down your bones and veins.

“I’ll see you.” Harry said, kissing your cheek before leaving for work.

You felt yourself melt into a puddle of emotions and glitter as you sank to the floor with a youthful smile on your face.

Harry, in all his corporate glory was late to pick you up tonight. Meaning, he had no time to change his clothes which is why he stood at your door, in his black trousers and ruffled white shirt, a single rose he plucked from his office garden dangling from his hand.

Harry most positively hated everyone. He hated large crowds. He hated too much colour. He’d rather live life in black and white but you brought about a change. A change dripping with colours and laughter and undiluted joy.

He rang your doorbell which was splattered with coloured fingerprints, probably yours.

“Hi.” You said, emerging out of the apartment which was installed above your art studio where you took classes and painted by yourself.

“You look beautiful.” Harry said, as you dressed up in a short white satin skirt which you paired with a yellow top. Your cowboy boots clicked with every step.

“You look like… you came straight from work.” You said chuckling.

“That’s because I did.” Harry said as he handed you over the single rose, already whitering.

“Cute.” You said.

———————

Harry looked around the restraunt, sitting opposite to you. It hadn’t occurred to him how silent and how much of a grump he had been all evening. You observed him silently, waiting for a sliver of conversation to appear between you two.

“Get up.” You said, breaking Harry out of his daze.

“What?”

“Did I stutter? Here’s my half of the bill, give yours and let’s get the hell out of here.” You said callinh a waiter, giving her half as you waited for Harry. He handed her his half as well and stood up and followed her out.

———————

Harry had no clue you bring him here out of all the places he could think of. You handed over Harry his rollerskates, a devious smile on your face.

“No.” He said, crossing his arms over his chest as he looked around the skating rink, purple lights flashing all over his face.

“Come on, don’t be a sour sport.” You said lacing your shoes.

“We could have had a nice dinner-”

“Not with you ignoring me all night Harry.” You shot back before he could finish his sentence. “I don’t know what was bothering you but now we’re here. You’ll only have fun if you let go.” You added gently.

“Fine.” Harry said as he laced his shoes and stepped into a rink.

Harry holds your hand as you guide him, picking up pace gradually. You smile at him as you leave his hand and circle around him, twirling like a small child. You let out a laugh as Harry yanks to his side, almost making you two fall down on the ground.

“Harry!” You squeal as his hand reaches your waist and pulls you towards him.

“What?” He asks, feigning innocence, gliding with you effortlessly. You jab his side causing him to let go. You poke your tongue at him and skate away backwards, your eyes at him.

Harry tries to skate as fast as you but ends up almost tripping. “Come here Y/N!” He says, from one end his face full of joy.

You slowly glide towards him and interlace your hands with his. You pull him towards yourself this time and rest your arms on his neck, a smile on his lips at your movement.

“You look very beautiful tonight Love.” Harry said, an idle coming to rest at the curve of your back.

“You happened to mention it earlier.” You said blushing.

Harry looked at you and realised how much you meant to him. He realised that he in fact didn’t how to have fun or let loose before he met you. Hell, he’s even rollerblading with you. Harry felt free. Harry felt himself. Harry felt at home.

And perhaps that’s why he kissed you.

His hand reached out, cupping your cheek while the other reached the nape of your neck. His touch sent shivers down your spine. And there it was, without a word he kissed.

Harry kissed you and the world slowed down.

In that moment, all colours merged into one. Your focus narrowed down to the entirety of the kiss and how it felt to move your tongue against his, savouring him slowly and sinfully.

Harry pulled away and looked into yours. His being a pool of utter joy and happiness. He picked you up slightly, sounds of laughter of coming out of the two of you.

“It’s the Rollerblading, I tell ya.” Harry said smiling.

You were sitting in your art studio all by yourself when the bell rang. You found it peculiar since you had no classes scheduled today. You wiped your hands off a towel and opened the door to see Harry, dressed in normal clothes for the first time in months.

You and Harry had been meeting on and off for a quite a while now. Kissing him, cuddling him, simply staying with him brought you happiness and same was for harry. You saw him open up to new things like dancing in the rain, going to McDonalds at midnight, screaming songs and appreciate life.

“How can I help you today?” You ask him, your arms coming to rest at either shoulder as he pulled you in and kissed you hard and slow.

He pulled away and shifted on his feet.

“What’s wrong?” You asked him as you sat back on your seat and began finishing your painting.

Harry fished out a piece of paper and started reading, a smile of amusement on your face.

“Y/N, you’re the reason I feel no shame in singing at the top of my lungs or at skinny dipping late night. You make me live. And I know I’m not what you want and I know I’m an arrogant son of a bitch but the minute I saw you at the intersection, I knew was I fucked. So-” Harry stopped mid way, crumbled the letter and looked at you, his gaze unflinching as he asked, “Will you be my girlfriend?”

“Yes. A thousand times yes.” You said as you ran over to him, your painted hands grabbing his face as you kissed him with all your might.

Authors note: thank you so much for reading! Interact with me! Let me know if you liked it in the comments, send me asks, send me messages, talk to me! I love you I love you I love you.

#famous!harry #harry fanfic #harry imagine #harry x y/n #harry's house album #harry one direction #harry styles #harry styles smut #harry styles x reader #harry styles blog #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfic #harry styles writing #lawyer!harry #one direction #one direction imagine #one direction fanfiction

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sbdskate · 8 months

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Laws Of Attraction (Part 9) - DR x lawyer!fem!reader

Summary: McLaren is in breach of contract, dr3 hires a lawyer to deal with the aftermath. Tropes ensue. Slow burn. Enemies(kind of) -> Friends/colleagues -> Lovers

Pairing: lawyer!fem!reader x Daniel Ricciardo

Warnings : fluff and cheese, language, slight angst, alcohol consumption

Word Count: 3,866

A/N: One day I may be one of those writers who is well organized and has a preplanned schedule for posting, but unfortunately (and as my first fic), today is not that day. Thank you for your patience during this writing drought. Another chapter will be on the way after this, hopefully in a couple of weeks after another round of edits. Shout out to @cutelittlefakejourneys for your help. As always, thank you for reading and don't be a ghost reader!

Daniel Ricciardo had been in your room last night. After a long race day filled with anxiety, media, McLaren, and subsequently relief and pride, he had stolen a bottle of champagne from McLaren’s afterparty, and your heart. He had hesitantly conditioned the gift on being consumed after the signing and delicately suggested you share the bottle, evidently afraid he would tear the fragile string that connected the two of you since the beginning. But you didn’t want to wait, so you had invited him in.

“So that’s how you open a bottle without spilling half of it?”

“What can I say, I’m a woman of many talents. Would you feel more comfortable if I gave you one of my heels to drink out of?” He laughed.

“Nah, not dirty or sweaty enough.”

He looked around to see what you had made of your private space. In contrast to the crisp outward appearance you presented as you strutted through the paddock in your tailored suits, your hotel room was a mess. Laptop open, papers spread out over every surface. Your petite figure was dwarfed by the oversized, plush hotel robe. Behind closed doors he realized you were quite ordinary. Not that you were unremarkable, but in the sense that you were perfectly imperfect.

“What are we toasting to?”

“To finish lines.”

You started out at least trying to be prim and proper, using the hotel’s water glasses as vessels. But at a certain point decorum went out the window and you simply passed the bottle between you sitting cross legged on the floor. Even though it was late, the hours passed like sand through an hourglass.

“Biggest celebrity crush growing up?”

“Leonardo DiCaprio. Easy. Man has been attractive literally at all stages of my life, from the time I was six watching ‘Growing Pains’ to now. Dude aged like fine wine. Unfortunately though I’ve aged out of his dating pool.”

He observed your lips wrap around the mouth of the bottle, how small your hand looked holding it, and his imagination ventured to unclean places.

“You?”

“Josh Allen,” he said without skipping a beat.

“You were five when Josh Allen was born. I know he’s your boyfriend but that doesn’t count.”

“Fine, fine, fine. I might have had a poster of Kylie Minogue in my bedroom when I was like, twelve.”

The two of you sat side by side at the foot of the bed, your hands inched closer towards one another as the night dwelled on.

“If you could do anything in the world, if money didn’t matter, what would you do?”

“Eh. I think I’d still be a lawyer.” He snorted.

“That’s the biggest fucking lie I’ve ever heard.”

“What? Someone’s gotta do it.”

“Come on. Do you actually love this? You’ve been away from your life in the States for months. And for what?”

“Well, I got to travel the world, meet cool celebrities… I got to know you. That must count for something, right?”

You tried to deliver the earnest statement as casually as possible, hoping he wouldn’t read too much into it. But the heft of your words hung in the air and blended with the little popped champagne bubbles that had evaporated. After months of Daniel tormenting you with flirty comments, it was his turn to try to ignore your flattery.

“Really. Money’s no object. Any job in the world. Go.”

“Ok ok fine. I suppose - Oh I don’t know… Maybe I’d be a food critic. I love to eat, I like to complain, and I like writing, so I feel like that’s the perfect marriage of all those things. Or… maybe I’d just drop off the grid completely. I’ve always dreamed about running off to the rolling hills of Italy and living off the land, maybe I’d open a flower shop or something. Really just live out my Under the Tuscan Sun fantasy. But it’s silly. I’ve worked so hard to get to where I am, I could never imagine throwing it all away.”

“It’s not silly.”

Your sideways glance met his deep pools of dark ember, filled with sincerity. You took a swig of champagne and passed the bottle back to him, wishing to wash away the palpable chemistry that swirled around you.

“What about you?”

“I guess I’d still be doing this.” You frowned, sensing his timidness.

“That’s not fair, you made me pick something.”

“Come on, it’s not like I have any transferable skills. I don’t know what else I could do.”

“You literally have two side hustles already. Wine maker and fashion mogul don’t do it for you?”

You thought you could crack a smile out of him, but instead the corners of his mouth downturned slightly.

“It’s not the same. We already decided the second time we met I could never have a desk job. I’m an adrenaline junkie, I’ve always needed to be in a car. Plus my parents worked hard to get me here, to get those opportunities for me, and seeing them happy makes me happy. I don’t know what else there is.”

“Your mother has a small heart attack every time you race.” You tried to placate his uncertainty, but the light conversation had turned heavy and there was no undoing it.

“Oh, that’s neither here nor there,” he brushed off.

“What about all the cameras constantly in your face? Don’t you miss being anonymous?”

This seemed to make him pause.

“I do… but at the same time, part of the fun was getting to make a name for myself. I’m not sure I fully knew what I was getting myself into, but I knew that fame came with the territory if I was actually good at what I was doing. Do I miss being able to walk down the street or go to a restaurant without being bombarded? Yeah for sure. But even when I had that, I don’t think I enjoyed it because I was always trying to get to the next step.” He paused, the furrow in his brow coming undone. “Do I love it right now in this very moment? No. I need a fucking break. I think you corporate people call it ‘burnout’ or whatever. But I’ve loved it up until now, and I know I’ll love it again eventually. I really can’t imagine doing anything else.”

The space between your fingers had vanished. As though your extremities had a mind of their own, you both looked down to study how they folded over one another. There was no recoiling. Your hand, that apparently had its own free will, sent signals to you to look up again. It was ironic that you had partially declined his invitation to the McLaren afterparty because you were afraid of winding up in a situation that vaguely resembled something exactly like this. Tomorrow was so close yet so far, and your wherewithal to resist the magnetic pull between the two of you was at an all time low. Over the last week leading up to the final race, flashbacks of the kiss in Brazil replayed on a loop in your mind. If you blinked you would’ve missed it when it had happened in real time. But the memory teased you and champagne was buzzing through your veins, clouding your judgment. You wanted to explore. Like a moth to a flame, you began leaning in, your eyes fluttering as his lips went in and out of focus.

Instead of being met with Daniel’s embrace, you toppled over as he got to his feet.

“Champagne’s gone, guess that’s my cue for bed.”

You propped yourself on your elbow as you looked up at him incredulously. How much champagne had you had, that you had so badly misread the situation? You averted your gaze in embarrassment.

“Yes, I suppose you’re right.”

His extended hand came into view. You slowly looked up again, his warm and inviting eyes conveying more than words ever could. You cautiously accepted his help as he got you to your feet, his strong hold steadying you.

“Do you need any help in the morning?” Yeah, just avoid Daniel until it’s over so you don’t lose your job. That would probably be a good start.

“No, I’m good, thanks though. Do you need any help?”He laughed, mostly out of astonishment that you could possibly ask such a question when you had already done so, so much.

“Yeah, if you could just sign for me too that would be great.” You rolled your eyes and shoved his arm. “Get some rest, yeah?”

And then he was gone. But how could you possibly just get some rest? You tossed and turned, never quite falling into a deep slumber. The scene of two friends on the floor sharing champagne and secrets played over and over. Friends? Colleagues? Business partners? Something else?

It festered as you got ready, before even the sun was up. The tried and true pink suit felt like it might burst at the seams, unable to contain the palpitations in your chest - a concoction of anticipation, nerves, anxiety, and excitement.

It was strange, having such a momentous deal take place outside the confines of a grandiose conference room with a dramatic, long, mahogany table overlooking some city skyline and perhaps a beautiful, shiny body of water. It was a status symbol of Big Law, the firm’s ability to peacock to clients how successful they were. The bigger the room and better the view, the more deserving they were of that outrageously high retainer fee they charged.

Instead, you walked into what was left of Red Bull hospitality after the big, final race weekend. Of course it was sleek and modern in its own right, but it gave an air of approachability that was lacking at the firm’s office. Nonetheless, you tried to import formality back into the space. You had printed and made matching binders of copies of the agreement for everyone present, appropriately tabbed and color coordinated. You brought blue, black, and red pens, highlighters, sharpened No. 2 pencils, and legal pads with the firm’s name emboldened at the top. You had gotten to Red Bull early to set up the space yourself, so that all materials were spaced out accordingly for each chair at the table. You took a step back to admire your handy work. Yes, this would do just fine.

Your phone went off.

DR: Where are you? We’re going to be late.

Y/N: I’m already here.

DR: 🙁

DR: You didn’t wait for me?

DR: It’s going to be weird walking there without you.

Y/N: I figured you wouldn’t want to be over an hour early and you could use the extra sleep. I’m sure you’ll manage.

It was weird for Daniel walking to the paddock without you. The whole morning had been weird. It had been too quiet. There was no offkey musical number through his bathroom wall. He missed the sprightly knock at his door that came about ten minutes too early. He missed guessing which of your faces he’d get when you realized he wasn’t ready. He was amazed at how quickly he had gotten used to you. Had they really only been at this hotel for four days? Five?

His memory taunted him as he walked to Red Bull. He recalled himself holding his breath in anticipation as you closed in on him last night. He felt his heartbeat all the way up to his throat, his pulse points throbbed. It was an out of body experience, watching in slow motion as he pulled himself away from you. He finally learned it was for the best, even though the dejected look on your face pained him.

When he got there, he was disappointed to discover he was the last to arrive, wishing he had more moments alone with you. Christian, Joe, and in-house Red Bull lawyer bros sat around you, centering you as a vibrant glow in a sea of dull blues and grays. He was relieved to discover that you had reserved the seat next to you. He felt his face involuntarily break into grin as he noticed you notice him come into frame.

Christian, who was sitting across from you with his back to the door, saw the slightest twitch of your facial muscles. He whipped around, before a smile was fully formed, knowing exactly what it meant.

“The man of the hour! So nice of you to finally join us.” Everyone stood up for another round of hand shakes and self-congratulatory pats on the back. He could hardly maintain eye contact, his gaze constantly darting back to you. You rose to your feet, but remained in place, patiently waiting your turn for him.

He finally stood in front of his reserved chair, directly facing you. He wasn’t sure what to do – he knew you so well, a handshake hardly seemed appropriate. But you were in front of professionals so a hug wouldn’t do. He knew what he wanted to do, and that certainly wasn’t an option. Fortunately you made the decision for him, instinctively sticking your hand out. He would’ve been a little sad about it, but for the knowing twinkle in your eye. Your palms firmly met, and he appreciated how soft and delicate yours were. It was like you were holding hands.

“Eh-hem.”

You cleared your throat, eyes suddenly piercing. It wasn’t until he felt you try to pry your hand away that he realized he had been shaking it about six seconds too long. He finally relinquished his grip and you both sat down.

“Sorry, I spaced out,” he whispered to you. You only gave him a twitch of a smile and a curt nod in return before swiveling your chair to face the other side of the table.

“Now then. Let’s get started, shall we?”

Daniel almost felt silly for pushing this whole ordeal back an extra day. Almost. He could imagine you marching out of there muttering this could have been an email under your breath. The contract was, for all intents and purposes, finished and truly just needed to be signed. It only took twenty minutes to do a walk through of the terms, which of course no one objected to after the countless back-and-forth’s of redlines, late night phone calls, and negotiations. And then, with a swift flick of his wrist, it was set in stone.

He stared at the wet blue ink on the page. He didn’t realize he was smiling until his cheeks started to hurt.

“I guess we’re engaged now. This feels familiar.” When he finally looked up Christian was beaming back at him like a proud dad.

“Welcome back, Daniel. Welcome home.”

“You do realize that could’ve been an email?” He laughed as he waited behind for you to pack up your stuff. Joe in typical fashion had exchanged quick pleasantries after the signing and was gone in a flash, off to the next client. The other Red Bull representatives followed suit not long after.

“It could’ve, but where’s the fun in that?” He watched as you stuffed the last binder into your bag, fighting with the zipper. When you finished you looked up to find him staring intently at you, causing you to nearly drop your bag.

“Can I help you?”

He leaned against the table, crossing his arms over his chest. You stared at his tan forearms, noticing his veins bulge.

“That depends… do you like surprises?” You did your best to hide a gulp, your throat suddenly dry. He couldn’t possibly be insinuating what you thought…

But if he was, two could play at that game.

“Depends on the surprise,” you purred, leaning forward ever so slightly to show off the v of your necklace that led a trail to your hidden cleavage.

He leaned forward to meet you part way, not breaking eye contact.

“I think you’ll like this one,” he whispered. You felt goosebumps raise on your skin, giddy in suspense. Your heart was about to burst through your chest. Was he really about to take you right here in this office?

Without warning he pushed himself from the table and walked quickly towards the door, leaving you bewildered in the middle of the room. He stopped in the doorway and looked back at you innocently.

“What are you waiting for? Follow me!”

He proceeded to skip down the hallway, forcing you to jog to try to keep up with him.

“Daniel! Wait up! What the hell?”

He led you to the exit of Red Bull hospitality before he finally stopped.

“I may or may not have called in a favor.”

“Daniel, this isn’t funny. What –“

You stopped in your tracks as the doors opened. With your jaw on the floor, you let out a silent scream as Geraldine Estelle Halliwell Horner, aka Geri, aka Ginger Spice, aka one-fifth of the iconic girl group The Spice Girls, stood in front of you in the flesh. As a child of the 90’s, this moment felt biblical.

Apparently Christian was also there. “Oh Darling, I have someone I want to introduce you to.”

You were already barely functioning when she turned away from her husband and made direct eye contact with you. Then, as though it were a conversation about the weather, she very casually said “Oh hello. You must be y/n, I’ve heard so much about you. It’s very nice to meet you.”

Your hand gripped over your chest. Eyes wide, you looked to Daniel to confirm she was not a hologram, but he only gave you a wide grin, then back to Geri who was waiting patiently for you to act like a human which was unfortunately too big of an ask.

“I-you’re-ohmygodIcan’tbelievethisishappening-I-hi-I mean…. You know my name.” You dissolved into fits of nervous giggles. Daniel stood there very pleased with himself. He was a little insulted you weren’t this starstruck when you met him, but it was overshadowed by the immense satisfaction he felt that he initiated something that made you so happy.

Geri gave a sympathetic smile. Clearly this was not the first time a fan lost their shit at her mere presence. “I do. I hear you’ve been very busy the last few weeks.”

“What? Oh, right. Yeah I’ve spent a lot of time with Daniel and your husband.” you blabbed, quickly changing the topic. “Do you and the girls still hang out regularly? Spice World was my favorite movie growing up, and-and-and I memorized all of the choreography to Stop and Spice Up Your Life.” You continued talking a million miles a minute.

“Well that’s good to know in case we ever need a fill-in,” she joked trying to put you at ease. Your demeanor quickly sobered and you put a hand over your heart.

“Oh, Miss Halliwell. I could never replace Victoria on your next reunion tour, but if you absolutely insist I would be honored to step in to ensure the show goes on,” you swore in earnest. Geri slowly nodded, locking eyes with Daniel behind you doing her best to telecommunicate with him. What the fuck. He only shrugged as he continued beaming.

“Well, I’ll keep that in mind,” she said slowly and politely. Daniel finally interjected.

“Y/n, you have to pack and I’m sure Geri and Christian have their own flights to catch…”

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to take up so much of your time,” you said, Daniel’s voice beginning to bring you back down to earth. You rummaged through your bag, before proudly presenting your hand to her. “Here’s my card in case you or any of the girls need any type of legal assistance, happy to go over any contracts for you or whatever else you may need.” Geri’s forced smile relaxed, appreciating your hustle and intellect.

“This is great, thank you. Girl power, right?” And just like that you were back on Saturn. You proudly held up a peace sign as though you were giving an oath.

“Girl Power. Forever,” you swore. Daniel gently put his hand on your lower back to try and herd you along, but you turned to look back as you walked. “And now that you have my number, let me know if you ever want to get your nails done together or get coffee or even a yoga class!” you called after her. Geri chuckled and waved.

“It was nice meeting you too,” she shouted back.

“Good seeing you too y/n – what am I, chopped liver?” You kept walking and waved him off.

“Oh right, sorry. Yeah yeah, nice seeing you too Christian. Pleasure doing business.”

You proceeded to gush about the encounter the entire way back to the hotel. Your hands flailed in the air as you excitedly repeated every little detail, even though Daniel had also been there to witness the whole thing. Your eyes were bright and wide, still processing the adrenaline.

“So did I do alright then?” he asked cheekily as you approached your rooms.

“Did you do alright?! That was one of the best moments of my life, I could kiss you!”

The words slipped out before you had a chance to think, stopping both of you in your tracks. They hung heavy in the air, waiting for an answer. But for the tension that had dragged on, and built, and compounded on itself for months, the statement would never be interpreted as anything other than an innocent, facetious comment for dramatic effect. But Daniel looked at you intently hoping you meant it. He turned his body to align with yours as you remained frozen, and cautiously stepped forward to remove the space between you. Your mouth parted slightly, trying to find words to explain yourself but drew a blank. He leaned in ever so slightly, his hot breath beating on the side of your face and tickling your ear.

“So do it,” he whispered, just loud enough for you to hear him. You dared to lock eyes with him, searching for an answer. His hand finally did what it had wished to do for so long, gently pushing hair out of your face and finding a home at the nape of your neck. He left it there, but he didn’t have to use any force to bring you together as your heads naturally tilted and pulled inwards like magnets. It was dizzying having his face so close to yours, feeling his breath tickle your nose and your cheeks, stoking the flush that had your face burning.

It was only when your lips were so close that you inhaled each other’s oxygen that you suddenly remembered you were in a very public hallway. You were still in your suit, that felt like it was about suffocate you. To his disappointment, and yours, you fell into old patterns. You pried yourself out of his orbit, stumbling backwards.

“Would you look at the time? I, um, need to go pack. Long flight tomorrow,” you stammered, as you continued backwards towards your room.

“y/n…”

“Congratulations again, I’m super happy for you.”

“Can we at least talk about this?” You fumbled with your keys pretending not to hear him, your focus on the floor.

“It was great working with you. You have a bright future back at Red Bull, I’m sure everything will work out. Have a safe trip back to Perth.”

And with that final, clinical, arms-length message, you left him in the hallway.

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greedy621 · 3 months

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Same font, different style Draw a scenes fom Limited time offer 2x1! by @bubbleteasing featuring my self insert oc I love all the fic she write so much, go read it espcailly if you are a fell sans simp and a adult!!! Rambling under the cut

This fic is like, my deams come true, having my two favroite Sanses together, I get to have them all... And my favroite work from her is A cigarette at a time It's so real and I love Red in this and hate him at the same time lol And there's so much I want to talk about it, but I don't have the words and I don't want to spoil it too

#undertale #suggestive #my art #sans #undertale sans #underfell sans #self insert oc #ao3 #fanfiction fanart #lawyer reader

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universitypenguin · 2 months

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Chapter 28

Summary: Princess confronts Court about his investigation and is shocked by what he's uncovered. After their trap fails, she takes the hunt for evidence into her own hands and comes face-to-face with the stalker.

Word Count: 8,029

Warnings: Includes scenes with gun violence, hostage situations, and car accidents. Discussion of stalking behaviors, general violence, computer hacking, and spy/intelligence agencies. Minor foul language. Only appropriate for 18+ readers. No minors.

Author's Note: Thank you all for you patient with me these past few months. Your encouragement made a huge difference and really motivated me to get it done.

Masterlist

Court stationed himself behind the desk in Lloyd’s office and used the laptop to pull up livestream footage from the cameras in the patent department. He leaned back, looking relaxed, other than his eyes. That cool blue gaze locked on the screen, gleaming with an intensity usually seen in carnivorous birds before they descended upon unsuspecting prey.

Nausea curled unpleasantly in your stomach, a sign that the rush of adrenaline that had propelled you through the evening had run out. You folded yourself into the chair across from Court, rubbing your temples to ease the dull throb of a headache. The overly bright fluorescent lights stabbed at your retinas. Though you were completely stationary, your head was spinning, as if you were on a high-speed carousel. Your thoughts whirled in a chaotic vortex that intensified the dizziness. Everything in your mind was colliding, tipping you off balance.

Yet despite the over stimulation, you were bubbling with excitement, because for the first time in months, you could see the fragments of the puzzle that had upended your life. Some of the edge pieces had been sorted out tonight. You’d been able to assemble the corners and from there, a complex mural of overlapping details took shape. For instance, your breakup with Aiden. He’d used his promotion as a pretext for the split, and in July, you’d had no reason to doubt him. After all, he’d been out that night celebrating with his friends at Song-Li’s restaurant.

In hindsight, it was appalling that you’d missed such a glaring inconsistency, one that had been right in front of you.

Song-Li’s was outside of Aiden’s usual orbit–so far out of it that you wondered how he’d known the place existed. You knew you hadn’t mentioned it to him and the business didn’t have much of an online presence. They catered primarily to the office dwellers native to the neighborhood and charged exorbitant delivery fees to anyone who lived outside of a two-mile radius. If you knew anything about Aiden, it was that he was a netizen to the core, with annoyingly high standards for bars and restaurants. He wouldn’t step foot in a venue that had less than fifty reviews, and Song-Li’s only had nine last time you’d checked.

It made no sense for him to pick an unfamiliar place for such an important event, especially one with all his friends in attendance. Yet you’d seen the crowded table and watched the gifts exchange hands with your own eyes. That meant the party Friday evening hadn’t been his first visit to Song-Li’s, and that demonstrated a much deeper familiarity with the neighborhood around your office than Aiden should have had.

Like a record scratch, your mind froze, the engine of your train of thought stalling mid-cognition as something else that should’ve been obvious to you long before now unveiled itself. In retrospect, it was as blatant as a neon sign in a dark alley: Aiden hadn’t seen the dismissal coming. He’d told all his friends about the promotion, thrown himself a party, and ended things with you. Those weren’t the actions of someone who anticipated an abrupt change in their fates. He’d been blindsided.

Another event that made no sense was Aiden’s confrontation with Lloyd. You’d assumed it stemmed from jealousy, but reflecting on it now you realized that most of Aiden’s effort had been directed towards peacocking in front of Lloyd. He’d barely even interacted with you. The aim seemed to be the preservation of his ego, driven by the need to look tough in front of his friends. Between breaking up with you in a text message and his priorities at the restaurant, it was evident that Aiden had no lingering romantic interest in you.

The deduction was sound, except for one tiny wrinkle: Aiden had shown up at your apartment a few hours later and made a scene so loud it had woken your neighbors. His behavior wasn’t logical. Neither were his later efforts to break into your apartment. That first attempt had been inelegant, but the second was meticulously plotted. The math didn’t add up, but reviewing the equation seemed to shade in the contours of the missing variable: Aiden’s motivation. Between the confrontation with Lloyd and Aiden’s appearance at your place, something had made him do a complete one-eighty, from callous to desperate.

While much of the puzzle remained incomplete, enough had come together that it revealed the blank space. That space had taken on a distinct shape, and the dimensions of it seemed to outline Court Gentry perfectly.

There was no doubt Court knew more about your ex-boyfriend than he was letting on. He’d claimed the spy had recruited Aiden to crack the patent department’s upgraded cybersecurity, which rang true, especially since you’d already confirmed it through Landon’s source at the FBI — he’d been terminated for “suspicion of espionage.” An allegation like that from a major IT industry conglomerate wasn’t common. No competent HR department would’ve signed off on such an action without hard evidence to back their claim.

Given that Aiden had been expecting a promotion instead of a termination, you figured the company hadn’t obtained the evidence on their own. If that was the case, the only plausible explanation for his abrupt dismissal was that an outside source had provided them with proof. Everything seemed to loop back to a single point of origin with Court Gentry at the center. He had to be the company’s source.

From that revelation, it wasn’t much of a leap to conclude that he’d been investigating the spy for a lot longer than he’d let on. You tried to recall if you’d bumped into him at the casino bar or if it had been the other way around. The exact order of events escaped you, but the timing of Court’s appearance in Singapore was damning by itself—he’d shown up just days after Aiden had been fired. Lloyd had once told you there was no such thing as a coincidence with spies, and that seemed especially true in this instance.

You wondered how long it had taken Court to gather enough proof for Aiden’s company to take one look at it and dismiss him immediately. Weeks? Months? He’d produced the evidence at the end of July, and it was now the middle of September. The timeframe begged the question of how much more he’d gathered since then. Perhaps the origin of the entire investigation had been Aiden. It tracked, because accounting for their personal history, who else would’ve drawn Court’s suspicions other than Lloyd?

The thought of Court already knowing the spy was your stalker made your stomach clench. If he had investigated you, he would have been aware of the stalking. If he’d been on Lloyd’s trail in Singapore, surely he would have dug into Lloyd’s close associates, too. That he’d read you in on the details of the investigation tonight hinted that he’d already vetted you. The odds of him knowing the stalker’s identity and holding it back lit a smoldering fury in the pit of your stomach.

“You deliberately gave me a false impression of how long you’ve been investigating the spy, didn’t you?”

Court looked up from the laptop. “Excuse me?”

“You knew the spy was my stalker. How long have you known?”

He arched an eyebrow. A too-innocent expression lit his face.

“Don’t try me,” you warned.

To your surprise, he dropped the ruse. “I’ve suspected for a while, but only found proof a few days ago.”

“You were investigating Lloyd in Singapore, weren’t you?”

Court tilted his head. “Did you just put that together?”

You ignored the sarcastic tone. “By extension, you must’ve been investigating me, too. That you’d tell me so much about the spy’s activities proves it.”

“The spy made a transmission while you were abroad, which cleared Lloyd and you, but I kept digging through Lloyd’s contacts, searching for a connection. Eventually, I found one.”

“So you know who the spy is?”

“I said I found a connection to the spy, not that I’d found him,” Court said.

“Aiden was the connection.”

“Clever. Give the girl a gold star.”

He was trying to throw you off topic by starting a fight. You recognized the maneuver almost immediately–it was exactly how Lloyd tried to dodge questions when you first worked together.

“You got Aiden fired almost instantly, which means you gave his company irrefutable proof he’d coordinated with the spy. What was it?”

“He made an extra copy of the decrypted program and left it… lying around, so to speak. I turned it over to the company’s security officer.”

“Lying around? Where?”

Court’s lips twitched. “Right under your nose.”

You stared at him for a moment. “He hid it in my apartment, didn’t he?”

“It was in your kitchen pantry, buried in a bag of rice.”

“Son of a bitch!”

“I also had proof of the payments he accepted from a bank in Hong Kong. It was more than enough to get him fired, especially after his company proved that his fingerprint unlocked the phone I retrieved from your rice.”

“If you had that kind of evidence, why didn’t you just report it to the police?”

“Because Aiden was just a symptom of a much bigger problem–a problem I didn’t have proof existed at that point.”

“Weren’t you worried that reporting Aiden would tip off the spy?”

“I was counting on it. Sacrificing the spy’s pawn was a shot across the bow, and it worked.”

“What else did you do?”

"I kept Aiden under surveillance, hoping he’d lead me to the spy, but the only place he kept returning to was your apartment. Eventually, I realized he was after something there.”

“The phone hidden in my pantry, which I assume you’d already broken in and stolen.”

Court smirked. “Better me than Aiden, right? The phone proved Aiden’s involvement, but it didn’t reveal the spy’s identity. At least, not until I saw the pictures in Detective Diskant’s file.”

“You had the entire file? Including the photos? How?!”

“I blackmailed a dirty cop.”

“Which is how you knew the spy’s IP address matched the one the stalker tried to hack my computer from.”

“No. That only came to light yesterday. What caught my interest was a picture the stalker sent while you were in Qatar.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I didn’t read those messages.”

“Good choice. They were creepy,” Court said. “It was the one he took at your apartment building on July 18th.”

“What about it?”

“The metadata proves when and where it was taken.”

“… and?”

“Aiden’s messages with the spy revealed that he’d threatened the spy, saying he had an insurance policy hidden somewhere safe. If the spy tipped off his company, Aiden would use it. The spy waited a few days to respond and then texted Aiden an image of your apartment building.”

“Walk me through that slower, I’m not getting it,” you said.

“The spy was at your apartment building on Tuesday, July 18th. The metadata proves the exact date, time, and location of the photo. He waited until Friday night to send it. When I saw the same picture in Diskant’s file that I’d seen on Aiden’s phone—”

“You cloned Aiden’s phone?!”

Court shot you a sardonic look.

“Right. Never mind, of course you did. Continue.”

“I knew exactly where the spy was on that day and time. The security footage from your apartment didn’t show much, but after you were almost run down a few weeks later, I had a second chance to figure out what kind of car the suspect was driving.”

“The police tried that,” you said.

“I have a lot more time on my hands than a metro police detective and considerably fewer restrictions — both moral and legal. With a lot of legwork, I narrowed it down to a specific make and model.”

“Why would the spy take so long to send the picture to Aiden? And even longer to send it to me? By my count, he waited—”

“Three days before sending it to Aiden and ten days before sending it to you. With Aiden he timed it to coincide with his party, presumably for dramatic effect. With you, your lack of reaction annoyed him and he needed to up the ante.”

“Why did a picture of my apartment freak Aiden out? I don’t get it.”

“Think. What was at your apartment building that would’ve drawn the spy’s interest?”

“The phone. Damn it! What did Aiden do, tell him where it was?!”

“No. But he said he’d hidden it somewhere safe, which ruled out his home or work. Your place was relatively secure yet also accessible to Aiden, so it came under suspicion quickly.”

You were struggling to follow. “Aiden kept proof of his own wrongdoing… as an insurance policy?”

“Yeah, not sure what he was thinking there. It only seemed to irritate the spy.”

“I don’t imagine it took him long to figure out where it was,” you said.

“Nope.”

“That’s what triggered the stalking, isn’t it? He came after me because of Aiden.”

“At first,” Court said. “But based on the escalation in August…”

“Right. Yeah. I know, I just…”

“Get over the denial, Princess. If anything’s clear from the police reports, it’s that this guy is insane, but he’s also patient and calculating.”

“He even set up a red herring for me to chase.”

Court nodded. “He knew about the breakup and the attempt to break into your apartment; he took advantage of Aiden’s erratic behavior to drive your suspicions in that direction.”

“What else did you uncover?”

“Diskant’s file gave me a lot more angles to work from. There are several events involving the stalker that tell me where he was and when.”

“You even got his height and build.”

“The security footage from Lloyd’s backyard was very helpful. It eliminated most my suspects,” Court said.

“Who do you think the spy is?”

“Someone who’s been hiding their talent with computers.”

“Talent? He had to get Aiden to crack the security for him.”

“He was good enough to beat the first version in May and bypass the safeguards intended to stop the transmission of classified files. He was good enough to hack your work computer, at least for a few minutes, and he knew who to reach out to when he couldn’t get through the upgraded encryption.”

“So he’s good, but not excellent.”

“Pretty much,” Court said.

“I know you have a theory.”

“Are you sure you want to hear it?”

“I’ve been chasing answers for months. Just tell me.”

“Clayton Bishop.”

Your breath caught in your throat. The name reverberated through your mind.

“Bishop?”

“I’ve been analyzing his movements and the timing of certain events aligns suspiciously with activities undertaken by the spy and the stalker.”

“But Bishop...” You couldn’t form a coherent sentence. “He wouldn’t do something like this. He's nothing like… He’s not my stalker!”

“All the evidence points to him.”

“There has to be another explanation.”

“Everything keeps coming back to him.”

You fell back in the chair, stunned. Your thoughts raced as you tried to reconcile the idea of Bishop and the sadistic stalker as the same entity.

“It can’t be him.”

“Why not?”

“He isn’t a computer expert!”

“You’re right, but he’s good with them. He learned how to code in high school and took computer science classes in college.”

“In coding languages that no longer exist, I’m sure. And computer science classes in, what, 1972? Come on, Court. Bishop isn’t my stalker.”

“I investigated everyone in the company between five-foot-seven and five-foot-nine who had the correct build, particularly those with technical backgrounds. Guess whose cell phone data puts him in your neighborhood on July 18th? Who missed a meeting on August 16th, when you were almost strangled? Think about it. He knew you were staying at Lloyd’s place and exactly when he was supposed to get home. He even recommended you go to Detective Diskant.”

“Bishop doesn’t drive at night. He couldn’t have tried to run me down in the parking lot.”

“He claims not to drive at night, but didn’t we just walk by him in the lobby on his way out? It’s night time, isn’t it?”

You sucked in a breath between your teeth.

Court continued. “Accounting for locations, availability, knowing the spy’s approximate height and weight, it’s a process of elimination.”

“But Bishop is the one who bought the firm’s cybersecurity programs.”

“That’s not a point in his favor,” he said dryly.

You considered that and stiffened. “Oh… shit.”

“You know I’m right.”

“I don’t know if you’re right, but I know Bishop has access to any computer with high-level security from the desktop in his office.”

“What?” Court asked.

“Remember how we assumed the spy would have to use the computer in the patent department?”

“Yeah.”

“Bishop wouldn’t need to be in the patent department at all.”

“Doesn’t that defeat the entire purpose of cybersecurity programs?”

“Look, all I know is that I’ve seen him use it before. A few months ago, when Westin wouldn’t put in my hours, Bishop remoted into his computer and accessed my timecard. I forget the explanation, but the gist is that he can get into any computer, as long as they have certain types of security programs. It’s like a master key to the firm’s network. The trap we set is useless.”

Court’s jaw flexed as he returned his attention to the laptop in front of him. He punched keys and typed in commands. You circled the desk to look over his shoulder and saw the security camera footage from the hallway.

“You had access to this all along? Why didn’t you—?”

“The spy’s been scrubbing the footage,” Court said, cutting you off as he flipped between windows. He stopped on a live shot of the parking garage. “Look. Recognize anyone?”

“There’s no one in the frame.”

“Any of the cars?”

You leaned closer. There was a black car parked near the far exit.

“That’s Bishop’s car,” you said.

“That’s what I thought.”

Court expanded the window to fill the screen with the image of Bishop’s Lincoln sedan. It sat idling with its headlights on. Then the driver’s side door swung open and the familiar figure stepped out. He walked toward the sky bridge that connected the parking garage to the third floor of the law firm.

Your heart sank. Bishop had only been pretending to leave. “Damn it. What do we do?”

“Stay here. I’ll go have a chat with our friend.”

- - -

It wasn’t without protest, but after he threatened to tie you to the chair, you stayed behind while Court went to confront Bishop.

You called Lloyd again, a knee-jerk reaction, like a child seeking their favorite blanket during a thunderstorm. The call went straight to voicemail. You groaned and buried your nose in the collar of Lloyd’s quarter-zip, inhaling the faint traces of his cologne. The scent calmed the roaring panic in your head and helped you organize your thoughts.

You dialed Zach’s number, to the same result, and then tried Detective Roth. It rang and rang, eventually going to voicemail. Really? Even Roth was out of touch? He was in the middle of a search operation–his phone, at least, should be on.

The laptop on Lloyd’s desk showed the live video feed from the patent department. You moved it to split screen and looked up the number for the Harmony Police Department. A desk sergeant picked up, and you requested to be transferred to Detective Roth.

“I’m sorry, he’s not in right now. Can I take a message, or would you like to be transferred to his office voicemail?”

“No, thanks. I’ll just try him again later.”

You hung up and tilted your head back and stared at the ceiling. What now?

There was another option, one closer than any of the others you’d considered thus far. An armed guard was right downstairs, and the other was circulating around the building. Just a quick walk down to the lobby would greatly improve your circumstances. The idea drew you out of your seat and saw you halfway to the door before reality hit. Bishop had hired those guards. He was the founding partner in the law firm. Even if you could convince them there was a spy in the building, it was unlikely that they’d be willing to turn on their boss.

You slumped onto the sofa. No Lloyd, no Zach, even Detective Roth wasn’t answering your calls, and the guards weren’t likely to be a help. If there was evidence you would’ve called Detective Diskant. The thought of him sparked another unpleasant realization that made your skin crawl. Bishop had pushed you to report the stalking. He’d even given you Diskant’s contact information. As a former prosecutor and someone politically well connected in the D.C. area, there were a dozen strings he could’ve pulled to have your complaint buried without your knowledge.

On the laptop, the video feed from the patent department was stubbornly blank. Two more minutes until midnight, and the trap was still empty.

Evidence. You needed evidence. There was nothing to tie Bishop to the stalking or the spying. Weighing the odds, you decided it would be more prudent to try and prove the spying allegations since treason carried a longer prison sentence than stalking. Also, the spying had been going on longer than the stalking, so it was more likely he’d left behind evidence of those activities. This short period, while Bishop was distracted, might be the only chance to gather that proof. Bishop was a brilliant lawyer, and unless the case against him was airtight, he’d evade the allegations like an eel slipping through a net.

What would Lloyd do if he were here?

The question brought to mind images of Lloyd with his hands around Bishop’s throat. That wasn’t exactly something you were comfortable attempting on your own. Despite his advanced age he’d probably do more harm to you than you would to him. You amended the question: What would Lloyd tell you to do if he was here? The memory of being tailed in Singapore came back, along with Lloyd’s advice: call Jake.

This time the phone was answered almost immediately.

“Hey, Princess, change your mind about that ride home?” Jake asked in lieu of greeting.

“Sort of. Don’t freak out, but I have something to tell you.”

“Uh, sure…”

“Bishop is my stalker. He’s also been stealing government secrets from the patent department and selling them to the Chinese.”

“What?!”

“There’s no solid evidence to prove either claim, but there has to be something. Also, I need the combination to Lloyd’s safe.”

“Princess, where are you?”

“In Lloyd’s office.”

Jake launched a volley of questions. You answered them, explaining how Court had shown up, the spying allegations, and the discovery of the IP address. As you talked, you crossed to the wall and swung open the painting to reveal the wall-safe hidden behind it.

“And you went with him? With Court Gentry? Just like that? What were you thinking?!”

“We can get into it later. Right now, I need the passcode to the safe. I think Lloyd said it was his favorite Super Bowls by year.”

“Stay where you are and don’t touch anything. Landon and I are on our way.”

“How far out are you?”

“About forty minutes,” Jake said.

“This can’t wait. I don’t know what Court’s doing or how much evidence he has, but we wouldn’t be here if he had enough. I need the laptop you gave Lloyd, the one with all the hacking programs. You can walk me through the rest.”

There was a murmur from the background, presumably Landon. You only caught a few clipped words of Jake’s response before he returned to the phone.

“The code is 917889.”

The door popped open and there, sitting on top of the pile of cash, was the laptop. You powered it up and sighed in relief when you saw it was fully charged.

“Alright. I have the laptop. We need to get something that’ll give a prosecutor reason to press charges against Bishop. I think I can get to the server room. Court said the spy’s been scrubbing the surveillance footage, but maybe there’s a backup copy? Access logs, record of key card entries… there must be something he didn’t think of.”

Jake sighed. “Fine. Go into the safe again and grab an encrypted USB stick.”

“Got it. Why do I need this?” you asked.

“For backup. You always backup evidence, Princess. You’re going to need to get down to the second floor’s server room. Landon wants to talk to you, let me put you on speaker.”

“Princess, under the organizer tray in Lloyd’s top desk drawer there’s a ring of keys. You’ll need them to get into the server room.”

“Okay, I have them.”

“Also, there’s a square key. It’s to the skywalk between our building and the employee garage. Stop on the third floor and lock it.”

“Why?”

“If Bishop makes a break for it, it’ll slow him down. Jake is on his tablet, hacking the security cameras as we speak. He’ll be watching your back every step of the way,” Landon said.

You tucked the keys into your pocket and secured the laptop under your arm.

“Alright. I’m going downstairs now,” you said, slipping in one earbud and switching the call to Bluetooth.

You moved cautiously, every little noise amplified in the stillness. Jake and Landon's voices murmured in your ear as they talked quietly between themselves. Hypervigilant, you navigated the stairwell, stopping on the third floor to lock the bridge to the garage. It felt hot on the second floor, despite the thermometer in the hallway reading 71 degrees.

“I’m at the server room.”

Jake guided you to the correct key on Lloyd’s ring for the deadbolt and gave you the door code. Inside, the server room was cool and dimly lit, with a pale blue strip of LED lights along the perimeter of the ceiling providing just enough visibility. You found the computer tower in the cabinet under the desk and disconnected its HDMI and USB cables, and plugged them to the laptop, which automatically brought up a new window.

“Okay, I connected the laptop to the computer station in the server room. What now?”

“Hold on. I’m piggybacking onto your connection for a second. Let me…”

Jake trailed off, but you saw evidence of his presence on the laptop screen. Windows opened and closed, then a terminal popped up, and lines of code began appearing at a rate faster than any normal human could type.

“There. I took care of the firewalls. You shouldn’t have a problem now.”

“Wait. If you can piggyback off the laptop, why can’t you do this part, too?”

“Princess, looking through these files requires a much larger screen than I have on my tablet, and an actual keyboard. Not to mention that the tower is connected to a dozen different servers. It’s like a maze to navigate and the interface isn’t user-friendly. I can’t even get it to display on my tablet.”

Landon’s voice came over the line. “Jake, get a bead on where Bishop is.”

“I already did. He went into his office a few minutes ago and Court Gentry followed just after. Princess, I’m going to need you to get into the keycard logs. It’ll tell us who opened what doors and when.”

You followed Jake’s instructions to access the keycard database.

“Start with the patent department last week at 11:49 P.M.—that’s just before the stalker tried to hack your work laptop.”

“I’ve got a list of dates and times. The keycards are listed under employee numbers, though.”

“Give me the numbers, I can look them up.”

“There’s two that look suspicious. One is from a guard and the other is registered to number #000.”

“Wait. What? It’s a guest user?”

“I don’t know, but their employee number is just three zeros,” you said.

“That’s a guest pass user. Scroll over to the far right column and check their permissions.”

“It’s blank.”

“It can’t be blank,” Jake said.

“This one is.”

“How far back do the logs go?”

“Only a couple weeks. Let me check where Bishop’s keycard has been used… Huh. He’s been here late at night a lot lately. Like, around midnight. That’s unusual.”

The silence on the other end of the line was palpable.

“We're only a mile away,” Landon said.

That would’ve made you feel better, but even at this time of night, traffic would be congested the closer they got to the city center. Soon they’d be slowed to a crawl. You turned back to the computer.

“I cross-checked Bishop’s key card with the patent department door. For the past few weeks he’s gone in and out almost every morning at around 7:40 AM.”

“How long are the visits?” Jake asked.

“A little over twenty minutes each. What about the surveillance footage? Court said the spy’s been scrubbing it, but there must be a backup.”

Jake directed you on how to get into the video storage server. After the connection finally loaded, you scrolled through the frames, tapping your nails on the counter as you examined the images.

There was footage showing Bishop coming and going from the patent department, his office, and through the lobby. None of it looked suspicious. Finally, you found the video of the patent department last week during the hacker’s attempt.

“The video’s just a black screen.”

Jake groaned. “Damn it. He’s literally been scrubbing the footage, hasn’t he? I know that program. It sends a damaged file to the backup server which interprets it as blank.”

“What else? We track computer logins, right?”

“That’s on a different server.”

Getting into the computer records server was another ordeal, which resulted in you getting kicked out of the system twice when it suddenly recognized you as an intruder. Jake had to remote in again and take down another firewall. Finally, you opened the database screen.

“Start by looking at Bishop’s logins, then check for the ghost guest card,” Jake instructed.

You searched the database and waited as the results filtered, dumping out into a clunky excel spreadsheet. “Yikes, this is a lot. It goes back almost to January. Everything is listed as his own computer, though.”

“Find out who was using the patent department’s computer during the attempted hack.”

The computer produced the results of your inquiry at a sluggish, belligerent pace.

“Okay. The ghost guest pass is on this list. It’s the only one with blank permissions, so I can easily identify it. Also, there’s this random account that’s been accessing the computer remotely. It shows up several times a day.”

After a brief analysis, he clucked his tongue. “Ah, I know that account. It’s just the IT department’s keystroke logger.”

“Excuse me? Keystroke logger? I did not consent to a keystroke logger on my computer.”

“You only have to consent if it's monitoring you. This doesn’t save any official data–it identifies users by their typing patterns. The program’s being trained right now. They’re planning to introduce it in next year’s security update.”

“Doesn’t everyone type the same?”

“Actually, typing is surprisingly unique. It’s almost like handwriting. People press keys differently, move from one key to the next with certain patterns, and use different rhythms. They’re subtle differences but taken together it’s enough for keystroke dynamic programs to create unique profiles for each user.”

“Mmmhh. Delightful,” you muttered.

“Give me a second, I don’t have access to that database, but…”

“–but you can fix that,” you said, finishing Jake’s sentence.

“I just did and guess what? We’re in luck. The keystroke logger went into beta-testing on the first of August.”

“Which helps us… how?”

“We need to identify the owner of the ghost guest pass and the keystroke logger can do just that. Download the login spreadsheet and save it. Then I want you to run a search for any other activity under that pass.”

“I have to access a different part of the server to do that, don’t I?”

“Sorry, Princess. You’re going to get back into the keycard access logs.”

“Great.”

You wove your way back through the maze to find the correct server and followed Jake’s directions. The search of the keycard logs only brought up one result.

“There was one instance when the guest pass was used. It unlocked the elevators last week, on the night of the hacking attempt.”

“Pull up the surveillance footage, if there is any. You need to–”

“I’ve got it. There’s a video file.”

You fast-forwarded through the file to the timestamp where the keycard logger recorded its use. A figure entered the car, but he kept his head down and stood close to the cameras. All that was visible in the frame was some gray hair.

“Jake, I’ve got something. Whoever used that pass knew where the camera was. They’re standing too close for it to capture their face, but the top of his head is visible. I can see silver hair, and that’s it.”

“I’m seeing it too,” Jake confirmed. “Is that the right color? I thought Bishop’s hair was more white than silver.”

“You’re right. The hair on camera is dark gray and wavy. Bishop’s is silver and fine.”

“Is there any footage of him getting off the elevator?” Jake asked.

“Kind of. It's grainy, and I can’t make out much more than a shadow.”

“Send it over. I have a program that might clear it up.”

“Done,” you said, tapping a key.

After a few minutes, Jake spoke again. “Got it. You’re right. The person using the elevator wasn’t Bishop. The restored footage isn’t great, but even with the artifacts, you can tell the figure it captured is about fifty pounds lighter than Bishop.”

You let your head fall back, inhaling through your nose. Relief surged along with frustration. You were glad Bishop wasn’t your stalker, but the setback was still disappointing.

“Are you still there Princess?”

“Yeah.”

“I got into the keystroke logger database, but I need you to do something for me.”

“Okay.”

Under Jake’s direction, you navigated to a file storage area. “Uh… what am I even looking at?”

“Screen recordings.”

“Of what?”

“Guest pass users. There’s a counter security measure where anyone using a guest pass on a workstation outside of regular hours is subject to random screen recordings.”

“Wouldn’t Bishop know that?” you asked.

“Yes. That’s why I doubted he was the stalker after you found the guest pass. Search for any screen recordings created on Thursday of last week, originating from the patent department computer. Check around the time your computer was hacked. If there’s a recording, we’ve got the spy’s identity for sure.”

You scanned through the records. “I have several files from 11 P.M. and 1 A.M., but there’s nothing that shows what computer they’re from.”

“Download all of them to the laptop and copy the file to the USB,” Jake said.

“Alright.”

“Now I want you to check something on the VPN server. Look up Bishop’s logins the night of your hit and run. August 13th, I think.”

With a sigh, you went through the tedious process of changing servers again. It was a lot more fun to watch Jake hack than doing it yourself.

“There’s a couple logins in the afternoon,” you said. “What am I looking for?”

“How long was the last login that day?”

“Four hours.”

“What device was it from?”

“His home computer. When I click into the file, it shows me his location. He was miles away when that car tried to hit me.”

“It doesn’t prove that he was actually there, but it's something.”

Landon’s voice came over the line. “Princess, check if there are emails mentioning cybersecurity updates during June or July.”

“Right. That’s a good idea. The update forced the spy to seek Aiden’s help. Princess–”

“What do you mean ‘good idea’?” you interrupted.

“Cybersecurity updates usually only happen in the first quarter. However, someone threw a roadblock in front of the spy by installing those programs. I want to know who it was.”

“You think someone knew there was a spy,” Jake said.

“Yeah, I do,” Landon replied.

Jake walked you through how to query the emails and scan their content with a series of SQL commands. You then let the computer scan through the labyrinth of messages for mentions of security upgrades in June and July.

A few minutes later you announced the results. “Bishop made the request. He emailed the head of the IT department on July 2nd asking for a meeting. Their later emails discuss when to implement the upgrade. Also, security didn’t get upgraded everywhere–it was only in the patent department.”

“That might explain why his keycard was used at their door so much over the last month,” Landon said.

“And it clears him of being our spy. If he was spying, he wouldn’t make it harder on himself to transmit.”

“I have a two-minute screen recording from the guest user,” Jake announced. “Guess what? Bishop’s keystroke logger signature doesn’t match the spy’s. Gentry was wrong–Bishop’s definitely not the stalker, or the spy.”

You sat back, the weight of the revelation sinking in. Like Aiden, Bishop had been another red herring.

“So who is it?” you asked Jake.

“I don’t know, but there’s plenty of evidence. We’ll figure everything out soon. Jake and I are only five minutes away. Go to Lloyd’s office and lock the door. We’ll be there before you know it.”

- - -

The call with Jake and Landon broke up as they went through the 3rd Street Tunnel. You shoved the earbud into your pocket with the USB drive and ascended the stairs to the fourth floor. Your heart pounded in a mix of excitement and dread. The laptop was hard to grip with your sweaty palms, so you hugged it to your chest. Reaching Lloyd’s office felt like stepping onto dry land after a month at sea. You pushed open the door, surprised to find the lights had been turned off, leaving the desk lamp as the room’s sole source of illumination. You paused, letting your eyes adjust, when a movement in the shadows caught your attention.

A figure stepped out from behind the desk. As soon as the light hit his face, you recognized the intruder.

Westin Tafferty. The man who’d spent the last six months making your life miserable, micromanaging and nagging you at every turn.

“Westin,” you whispered.

An icy smile spread over his face. “Hello, Princess.”

“What are you doing here?”

“What do you think?” Westin asked, stepping closer.

He’d always been a thorn in your side, but you’d never imagined he could be behind the stalking, the espionage.

“It was you all along.”

Westin laughed, but there was no warmth in it. “Very good, Princess. Such a clever girl.”

You needed to buy time. Landon and Jake were on their way. You had to keep him talking.

“You coward. You spend months harassing me from behind a screen and then hide in the dark? You’re pathetic.”

He smiled, a glint of malice in his eyes. “Such harsh words. You don’t understand anything.”

“Then explain it.”

Something dangerous flashed in his eyes, but his expression cleared just as quickly. A placid smile settled over his face like a mask.

“I’d rather not,” Westin said.

“You’re afraid of confrontation, aren’t you? If you expressed yourself, everyone would see all that bottled-up rage. So you used me as an emotional punching bag.”

Westin’s smile faded into a cold stare. “You’ve become a problem for me, Princess. And problems need to be dealt with.”

You gripped the laptop tighter, suddenly remembering how it had felt to have his hands around your neck a month ago. He wanted to kill you. Where were the guys? Shouldn’t they be here by now? It felt like an eternity had passed. You scrambled to think of a diversion but blurted out the truth instead.

“Jake and Landon are on their way. They’ll be here any minute. You won’t get away with this.”

“Then I guess I don’t have much time,” Westin said.

He reached into his jacket and pulled out a gun, pointing it at you. With the gun he gestured toward the door. “Drop the laptop on the sofa. You’re coming with me.”

With the weapon trained on you, there was no other choice but to comply. You set the laptop down and stepped back. Westin kept his eyes on you as he moved to the sofa and snatched it. Your heart sank at the prospect of what was about to become of the device, but you still had the USB hidden in your pocket. Jake and Landon would be here soon. You just had to stay alive until they got here.

Carrying the laptop under his arm, Westin led you out of the office and down the hall to the elevator. On the ride down, your mind raced with potential escape plans, but the cold metal of the gun pressed against your back kept you in check.

The elevator descended to the third floor, opening in front of the exit to the skywalk to the employee parking garage. You tugged on the door. It didn’t budge. Westin cursed and dug in his pocket for keys.

As he fumbled with the lock, you saw your chance. Right outside the door, in the breezeway there was a trash can with an ashtray fixed atop the lid. While Westin’s attention was on the lock, you slipped the USB drive between your first and middle fingers. The lock clicked open and when Westin turned to you, expectantly you didn’t move. He seized your elbow and yanked you forward. Your stumble wasn’t entirely pretend as the momentum propelled you through the doorway. You grabbed the trash can lid for balance, shoving your fingers into the tray of cigarette butts and burying the USB drive under the ashes. Westin grabbed your arm and shoved the gun in your ribs. His grip tightened like a vise and he held you against his side for the rest of the walk to the parking garage.

In the garage, he led you to his car, a sleek Lincoln sedan. “Get in. You’re driving.”

You slid behind the wheel, hands trembling as you fastened your seat belt. Keeping the gun trained on you, Westin climbed into the passenger seat.

“Where are we going?” you asked.

“Just drive. I’ll tell you where to go.”

You navigated out of the parking garage, the weight of the situation setting in. From the corner of your eye, you glanced at Westin.

“Why me, Westin?”

He laughed, a bitter sound. “You were just an annoyance at first. But then I realized you were close to Lloyd; that made you the perfect target.”

“Lloyd? What does Lloyd have to do with this?”

“I’m not actually a paralegal. My entire resume is a government sanctioned lie. It was part of the separation package when the National Security Agency kicked me to the curb.”

“You worked with Lloyd.”

“He made my life hell for five years, then didn’t even remember me. That kind of disrespect demands a response.”

“So harassing me is your twisted idea of revenge?” you asked, incredulous.

“No. Killing you will be my revenge. Making you miserable was just the build up. I had a front-row seat to watch as Lloyd got more and more wound up, chasing shadows, never really getting anywhere. He doesn’t give a damn about anything or anyone other than you — you’re his Achilles heel. And of course, I’ve enjoyed this little game immensely.”

The car made the last turn down the ramp. In the dash, the clock read 1:00 A.M. Jake and Landon must be close

“You won’t get away with this.”

Westin snorted. “We’ll see about that.”

Letting him take you out of the building hadn’t been smart, but if you went with him to a secondary location, you were as good as dead.

“Turn right,” Westin said.

You hit the blinker and turned onto the street. At the intersection the light was red. You rolled to a stop. It was the same light you’d been stuck at with Court a couple hours ago, though on the opposite side. The flood lights in the median where the underground work was being done were off now. You stared at the empty work site, surrounded by concrete K-rails that barricaded the construction workers from passing vehicles.

Going through the light would be another step down a slippery slope. If you drove through it, how much further would you keep going? Out of the neighborhood? Past the city limits? Each meter he took you further away from the firm lowered your chances of survival.

Your fingers squeezed the steering wheel as you debated tossing open the door and booking it. You’d have to undo your seatbelt first. That would give Westin reaction time. He could easily shoot you in a nonlethal spot and force you to keep driving. It would never work; running was out of the question.

“Why is this damn light so slow,” Westin complained.

His comment drew your eyes back to the stoplight, then down, to the construction site in the median. Your heart thudded. Suddenly it raced in triple time. Nervous saliva flooded your mouth. Oh, this was a bad idea, even worse than trying to run.

It was a game of chance, like rock, paper, scissors. At the moment there was no other option. You had to risk it.

Rock, paper, scissors…

Rock.

The light turned green. You hit the gas pedal, shoving it to the floor and turning the wheel to the right–straight toward the K-rails in the median.

The car slammed into the concrete pony walls and the steering wheel lurched as Westin tried to grab it.

Your head snapped back. After a dazed moment you registered that the airbag had gone off. Your ears were ringing. You didn’t know why your ears were ringing. Were airbags loud?

You felt something wet on the side of your face and hoped you hadn’t hit a fire hydrant. When you touched the wetness, your fingers came away bloody. That was surprising, because your head didn’t hurt. As soon as the thought crossed your mind your head began to hurt. It stung and sizzled with discomfort. You winced, then suddenly remembered Westin. You whirled to face him but the movement made your neck seize. Pain whipped down your spine, triggering a spasm that rippled through your whole body.

Maybe wrecking head-on into a K-rail hadn’t been the best idea.

You took a deep breath and turned slower to avoid another spasm. Westin was slumped in the passenger seat, his head resting on the dashboard. He wasn’t moving. You yanked the door handle. It was stuck. You pulled harder, shoving against the door with your thigh, then slamming your body into it. The movement hurt, but adrenaline covered the pain well enough that you kept fighting with the twisted frame until it groaned, metal grinding against metal as it finally yielded. You swung your legs out, exhilarated by the success–only for the seat belt to clamp down, jerking you back into the car.

Damn it. You fumbled for the release.

Westin groaned. You groped for the button, trying to trace the belt back to the clasp, but it was buried between the console and the seat. With blood in your eyes and the darkness of the construction site, you couldn’t see anything.

From the corner of your eye, you glimpsed movement and jerked back. Without your body blocking them, the street lamps illuminated the seat, revealing Westin clearly. He was still slumped over, but he’d shifted to face you, positioning himself with his back against the passenger door.

Blood streamed from a large gash on his forehead. In his hands was the gun. There was a flash of light from the muzzle. It was the last thing you saw.

After that, everything was dark.

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

Coming Soon - XXIX

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

Masterlist

#series: the princess and the lawyer #series: the princess & the lawyer #lloyd hansen x reader #lloyd hansen x you #lloyd hansen x female reader #lloyd hansen x fem!reader #lloyd hansen x y/n #lloyd hansen fanfic #lloyd hansen fanfiction #lloyd hansen au #lloyd hansen fic #chris evans characters #chris evans character fanfic #tw: guns #tw: hostage situation #tw: car accident #tw: car crash #minors dni

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fckmebarnes · 1 month

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back here thinking of lawyer!bucky barnes keeping you at feet with his tie tied right around your neck and his metal hand is wrapped tightly around it

he shows you off during settlement meetings - dressed up in lingerie with a robe and the sweet expensive smelling scents he splurges on you

it takes everything for the other team to not stare, to not fuck up theirndeal and stare at bucky’s prized possession. you’re the reason he’s so successful.

it doesn’t help he’s had your pussy warm this whole time with a toy snug right up in your hole. dripping all over the lingerie and on the inside of your thighs, bucky just loves seeing you struggle

#fae speaks.#bucky barns imagine #bucky barns fanfiction #bucky barnes #bucky barns x reader #bucky barns x y/n #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x you #fae bucky blurbs #bucky x reader #@ bucky barnes #bucky smut #lawyer!bucky

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marysblo0d · 3 months

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The first installation of my playboy!rhaenyra x lawyer Alicent is out now! Read it here!

Rating: Explicit

Word count: 4.3k

Summary: Notorious playboy Rhaenyra Targaryen has always gotten whatever she wanted, but what happens when the one person she wants isn’t interested? (Or so it seems)

Aka: Rhaenyra is down bad for her family’s new corporate lawyer Alicent Hightower and will do anything to win her over

#rhaenicent #rhaenyra x alicent #Rhaenicent moodboard #rhaenicent fanfiction #rhaenicent fic #rhaenicent smut #playboy!Rhaenyra x lawyer!Alicent #my fics.#cj speaks.

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tangledinink · 1 year

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Chapter Thirteen of I'm Sorry, Teenage Mutant What Now? is up! The gang journeys through the Hidden City to investigate the Battle Nexus. They journey through and investigate old memories on the way. Read it on ao3 or below the cut!

[ prev ]

"BARON DRAXUM!"

Everyone in the room winced, including Baron Draxum, who awoke with a start, sitting stark upright and snarling in response as he swayed.

"Jeez, Recruit... Love the enthusiasm, but tone it down a bit, maybe," Lieutenant bit out, rubbing his ears, still reeling from the volume of her wake-up call. Casey flushed just the tiniest bit.

"My apologies, sensei!" She cried, immediately falling into a bow, but privately she thought to herself it worked, didn't it? Nothing else that they had tried had even begun to stir the yokai, who they had found tied up and in an unconscious heap inside his own underground lab. They had arrived expecting to help transport the Hamato children to their main hideout, certain they would be, of course, apprehended neatly by Draxum by now... but evidently this was not the case.

"What in the world happened?" The Lieutenant voiced Casey's own thoughts aloud, holding his hands out exasperatedly. "You said you were going to get the Hamatos."

"Yes, well, things were a bit more complicated than I anticipated..." Draxum hissed, gritting his teeth.

"You said you could handle them on your own! We offered to send you back-up, but you didn't want to wait! Surely four children didn't overpower you--"

"They did not overpower me," Draxum snapped, turning to snarl as he dragged himself back up to his feet. "Some damned witch placed a protection spell on them," he seethed, absolutely bristling. "I can't touch them..." He grit his teeth. "... I will simply have to account for this in the future..."

Lieutenant and Brute seemed somewhat unimpressed, Cassandra noted, glancing at them from the corners of her eyes as the two exchanged looks.

"Yes, well," Lieutenant mused, his hands on his hips. "I'm sure there will be other opportunities to kidnap children in the future. However, the Dark Armor remains our priority. Come on. We've wasted enough time here, and we have a new lead to investigate..."

"Don't worry. You'll get 'em next time," Brute tried to encourage, patting Draxum's shoulders, to which he snarled and batted his hands away, grumbling to himself as he stalked off after them, discussing as they went.

Cassandra sighed softly, rolling her shoulders back and forth a few times before she trailed after her three superiors.

Yes.... The Dark Armor was the priority.

---

The collective shriek of their group was cut off by a loud thud, immediately followed by a chorus of groans. Okay, so, travel by teleportation was... a little disorientating. The fact that most of them currently sucked at staying on their own two damn feet didn't help matters. Some more than others.

"Sorry!" Raph immediately bit out, wriggling from atop the heap, an awkward chuckle escaping him.

"Raph, my wonderful brother," Leo grit out. "You know I love you dearly. But I'm really gonna need you to stop knocking us all over like bowling pins."

"Well, look, you try walkin' around with a giant tail you ain't used to! It's not as easy as it looks!" He defended, throwing his hands up. "I'm doin' my best over here!"

"Whoa!" Mikey effectively ended their squabble with his gasp, sitting up quickly in order to give a wild gesture. "Guys, look!"

And damn. Whoa was right.

Raph was a New Yorker, so he wasn't easy to impress. He wasn't immediately awed by big, sprawling cityscapes or towering skyscrapers, but this place was... something else. It looked somewhere between an actual city and some sort of mystic ruin, residing as 'neither' and 'both' all at the same time. The buildings themselves seemed to grow from the stone landscape, curving and sliding to match the terrain. Glowing mushrooms, crystals, and occasionally the eyes of massive statues provided brightly colored lighting, leaving the various neon signs and backlit advertisements of the city seeming pale in comparison. Street vendors, kiosks, and tents lined the bustling streets, and each and every creature making up the massive crowds was something completely alien that Raph had never seen nor imagined before. Yokai, he thought to himself. That's what April said they were called.

Rather than sharp, straight lines and confident corners, this place seemed built from jagged outlines and curving bends, looping and winding around itself as if the entire city were hanging on, clinging to itself, holding hands, nestled in between the hulking forms of unmoving stone creatures that Raph was unsure how to categorize. He didn't feel confident saying that they weren't alive after the day they had had, despite their frozen forms and their dead, unseeing eyes.

"This must be the Hidden City," Mikey said, and Leo let out a low whistle as the five of them took in the view.

"Good job, little guy. Knew you could get us here," April hummed, giving the little yellow creature they had rescued a squeeze. His tail wagged wildly in reply, snuggling up in her embrace.

"Alright, now we just gotta get to the Battle Nexus from here," Leo said with a sigh, shifting his weight onto one leg, hand on his hip as he glanced over at the yellow critter. "Any idea where that is?"

The creature chirred in response, nodding excitedly and scrambling down from April's arms in order to lead the way. Leo grinned.

"Okay, I take back all my earlier doubts and hesitations. Bringing this guy with us was a great idea," Leo declared as the group set off.

Though the acquisition of weapons, all tucked or stowed away in backpacks or belt loops or pockets, had helped a bit, Raph had still been, admittedly, pretty nervous about entering the city, a pool of anxiety swirling around in his gut. Given the day they had had so far, he couldn't help but imagine a hoard of devious yokai dogpiling him and his siblings the moment they set foot into unknown territory. But, to his quiet surprise, no one spared them even a second glance, all seeming far too occupied with their own errands and lives to glance over at their ragtag group.

Somehow, this made Raph feel a bit better. For several reasons. He supposed that, at the very least, they didn't seem to be freaks here.

"Don't worry, Dad, we're on our way," Mikey chirped, and despite his current relief, Raph still couldn't quite understand how his little brother could be so cheerful. Mikey always amazed him with his emotional resilience. Wished he had some of that.

"Eugh, is he even gonna recognize us when we get there?" Leo said with a wince, wrinkling up his face a bit. "We look, uh... a little different than when he last saw us."

"I'm pretty sure he knows, Leo," Donnie remarked. "He's the one who put the bracelets on us in the first place. He knows."

Raph glanced dimly down at the little golden bracelet still encircling his wrist, the red gem now seeming a bit duller somehow, and he frowned. So this little trinket was mystic all along, huh? Now that he knew, it seemed stupidly obvious. He wondered anxiously if they still worked anymore, or if they were broken forever.

"No wonder he didn't want us to take these things off," Leo muttered, looking over his own, holding his arm up to examine it. "Jeez. I can't believe he kept this a secret from us. How did we not know?"

Mikey gave a thoughtful hum. "Do you guys remember when we were really little? Before we moved? And we used to pretend we were turtles all the time?"

"Somehow I don't think that was pretend, Mikey," Donnie said with a roll of his eyes.

"That's what I'm saying!" Mikey insisted. "But you guys do remember that, right? I just... I always thought that that was just us playing a game or something, but it must have been real! So we knew at some point!"

"And then we forgot..." Donnie mumbled, tilting his head to the side thoughtfully, already obviously doing calculations in his head.

"You guys were pretty weird when you first moved here," April remarked.

"Oh come on. How do you just forget that you're a turtle?" Leo argued, glancing over his shoulder at the others. "That seems like the kind of thing that'd stick with you."

"I dunno," Mikey shrugged. "But obviously we did!"

"You're not implyin' that Dad did somethin', are ya?" Raph questioned, narrowing his eyes, and Leo immediately huffed.

"No! Of course not!" He frowned. "It's just... I dunno. It's weird, is all. It's crazy to think about how much stuff that we just... forgot."

"Well, what do you remember?" Donnie nudged. "Like, from before the move."

"Not much," Leo admitted, scrunching up his nose. "Everything from back then is fuzzy. I don't even know where we moved from."

"I think..." Donnie hesitated a moment. "I think we moved from there."

"Where. The Hidden City?" Mikey questioned.

"No, no, back there. I mean. The sewer we were in before," Donnie pressed. "Didn't it seem... kind of familiar to you guys?"

"Well..." Raph frowned.

"Mikey! Wait!" Raph laughed, stumbling as he chased after his littlest brother. He still didn't walk with a terrible amount of grace, but he crawled like a madman, and Raph took great joy in chasing him around. Mikey did, too, giggling maniacally as he attempted to dodge the other.

Raph could feel, reaching back into the memory, that the bottoms of his feet were cold. The ground was hard beneath them, like stone. Like concrete. He remembered worrying about Mikey's knees. And, thinking back on it now, he swore he could almost hear the sound of running water in the background.

"I go’chyu!" Raph declared, grabbing Mikey, who squealed in response, wriggling against him.

Everything from back then was blurred; cobbled together like pieces of glass glued into a mosaic, appearing in his mind’s eye as a series of blotted, wrinkled images. Were they turtles or people back then? He wasn't sure. Where were they?

"I remember it was dark..." He said. "And cold a lot. The ground was stone or somethin.’"

"I remember that, too!" Mikey gasped.

"Whoa, wait!" Mikey squirmed his way out of Raph's arms again, attempting an escape, and a flare of panic flashed through him for a moment. He dove for Mikey for real this time, not playing anymore, grabbing his brother before he could get too far.

"We can't go that way, Mikey. Daddy said 's not safe yet," he explained when his brother whined in complaint, hoisting him back the way they came, his footsteps clumsy while trying to drag his brother along. "We gotta stay in these tunnels."

"And... I think I remember there being… tunnels," he continued. "Or somethin' like that. It was really big, wherever we were, but we could only go into certain places. And the rest was off-limits, ‘cause Dad said he hadn’t checked them all to make sure they were okay yet. I remember keepin' Mikey from wanderin' off."

"I remember tunnels!" Mikey exclaimed. "I remember yelling into them when we were little and listening to them echo. I remember doing it until Leo made me stop!"

"I don't remember that," Leo protested, crossing his arms.

"You did!" Mikey insisted. "You said I had to play something else because it was bothering Donnie."

"That would be in character for you," April remarked with a tiny grin.

"Sounds like sewers to me," Donnie said with a shrug.

"Maybe," Leo conceded. "But why the hell would Dad keep us in the sewers?"

"There’s probably limited options when your kids are literally part-turtle," Raph reasoned with a grumble.

"Yeah, but abandoned sewers?" Leo pressed. "Come on. Was that really the only choice? Couldn't he have just... kept us inside or something?"

"I don't think so," Donnie said, frowning a bit, shaking his head. Leo sighed.

"Why not?"

"Leo, Dad has one of these bracelets, too," Donnie said. "Remember?"

---

The rest of their journey through the Hidden City went about the same way. One of the boys would bring up some old memory, and they'd discuss for a while, before the conversation would peter out and they'd walk in silence for a bit before the cycle started all over again. April pointed out that they had all regularly chirped and clicked and made other odd noises when she had first met them, but eventually, they grew out of it (mostly.) Raph discussed his memories of watching his younger brothers when they were very little, waiting somewhere dark and quiet for their dad to get back from wherever he was going. Donnie and Leo both remembered sleeping together as toddlers, somewhere very small and curled up, like a nest of some kind, both agreeing that it didn't quite seem like a crib or a bed. Mikey mentioned how many times he got in trouble for painting or drawing on walls when they first moved into the apartment, and how much it had upset and confused him in the beginning-- was that because their dad hadn't bothered to correct the behavior when they lived in the sewers?

"When we first started swim team," Donnie mused, tilting his head back to stare up at the sky. "I remember sometimes, we would have contests with the other kids to see how long we could hold our breaths."

"I remember that," Leo agreed. "And we'd always win!"

"Yes, but..." Donnie hummed. "I think we probably could have won by a lot more if we wanted."

"What do you mean?" Raph questioned.

"Well," Donnie explained. "I recall, or, at least, I think I do, that… that when we first started partaking in those contests, it was... it was easy. Everyone else would have already come up to breathe, but I'd feel completely fine. I'd only come up because I had won and the contest was over. But after a while, people started being weird about it," he frowned. "To be fair, people were weird about a lot of things I did. And I will admit I didn’t always catch on, but I noticed this one,” he said, laughing dryly and giving a wave of his hands. “And at the time, I just wrote it off as one of many! Just another thing that I did that made me different from my peers. But I started coming up earlier so I'd be more... normal," he confessed. "And I'd pretend like I was out of breath when I wasn't, so people would stop looking at me like that. Or, well. People stopped looking at me like that for that particular reason. And I guess eventually I just... I got so used to pretending that it just became second nature, and I didn’t even realize I was pretending anymore."

Leo nodded slowly, looking thoughtful, his arms crossed over his chest. “Yeah… Yeah, that sounds… that sounds right, actually…”

"I remember thinking the same thing!" Raph exclaimed, his eyes wide at the realization. "Except I felt bad that all the other kids kept losin' so bad! I started pretendin' 'cause I didn't want everyone else to get discouraged, and I just did it for so long...!"

"But you're the best swimmer, Dee," Leo remarked, nudging his twin slightly with a tiny smile. "So I wouldn't be surprised if you can hold your breath the longest, too. I mean, christ, you literally have webbed fingers now."

April glanced down at her brother’s hands, noting quietly to herself that it was true. If she was being totally honest with herself, it was a bit alien to look at, so she drew her eyes back away after a moment.

"That does make sense," April hummed. "And it'd explain why you guys are so good at swim meets and stuff, too."

The other three paused, and Leo frowned a bit. "What do you mean?"

"Well, I mean. If you're turtles, then... obviously you're gonna be good at swimming," she reasoned with a shrug. "It makes sense. Of course you’re gonna win!"

"Mikey doesn't swim," Donnie pointed out.

"Maybe he's a different kind of turtle who doesn't swim?"

"A terrestrial turtle..." Donnie hummed, resting his chin in his hand, brows furrowed. "Maybe a box turtle or something..."

"You think I'm a box turtle?!" Mikey gasped, his eyes lighting up.

"But obviously the rest of you would be good at swimming if you're, like, aquatic," she continued. "So I'm not surprised you all always kicked so much butt at swim meets and stuff!"

"... Yeah. I guess so," Raph said, but he seemed kind of... dejected, almost. Like he was upset. The conversation shifted shortly after, focus shifting to Mikey’s new identity as a box turtle, but April's mind lingered.

Why did she feel like she had just said something wrong?

---

“This is the Battle Nexus?!"

Raph gawked slightly, suddenly feeling a lot less confident. He could feel the various winces and mumbles around him. "It's a goddamn fortress! We're never gettin' in there!"

"Oh, come on. What were you expecting? To just walk in?" Leo scoffed. "It's not that bad!"

"Not that bad?!" Raph squawked, turning to gesture wildly to the massive walls, the towering, heavily guarded entrances, the watch towers perched on nearly every corner... Christ, was that a blimp overhead!? "Are you crazy?! There’s no way!!!"

"Well, not with that attitude," Leo said, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Yeah! We're basically ninjas, Raph, we got this!" Mikey cheered, ever optimistic.

"We’re not ninjas, Mikey. And there's no way in hell we're sneakin' in there. You two are out of your mind," Raph said with a scowl.

"We don't gotta sneak!" Leo insisted, waving away the other's concerns. "Don't worry! I'll talk us in there, no problem! Leon's got this. I'm an actor, remember? I just gotta charisma our way past one of those guards."

"You wanna talk your way in?" April questioned, raising a brow. "Leo, are you sure about this?"

"Of course I'm sure! This'll be a piece of cake. C'mon-- watch and be amazed!"

They were not amazed.

"Seriously, Leo?" Raph hissed, no more than five minutes later, the group slinking back into the same alley they had started from with a few new bumps and bruises and their metaphorical (literal?) tails between their legs. "Caravaggio? The awards show host? From the Bloodsporties?"

"I thought it'd work!" Leo cried, throwing up his hands. "Everyone likes to be flattered! People love it when you bring them awards!"

"Why do you need four assistants to drop off an award?" Donnie hissed.

"It's a very important award!" Leo insisted.

"That no one's ever heard of?!"

"Yet," Leo huffed. "Okay, look, it's fine. Leon's still got this. We just gotta switch over to plan B."

"Plan B had better not be at all similar to Plan A," Raph said, crossing his arms. "Or involve any of us being strong-armed off the premises by a massive yokai guard!"

"It won't, it won't, I promise!" Leo assured, getting to his feet again. "Okay. Watch and be amazed! Again!"

Leo shook out his limbs, straightening his posture, rolling his shoulders back, and setting his feet apart. And then, for just a moment, he was completely still. His chest didn't even twitch with a single breath. All at once, he inhaled sharply--

... And nothing happened.

"Wow. Amazing," Donnie said dryly.

"Well, just, gimme a minute! You're breaking my concentration!" Leo snapped, repeating the motion-- and then again, and then a few more times, until he was basically flailing in place, repeatedly thrashing in the same spot. "Come-- ON! Work already!"

"Leo, what the hell are you doin'?" Raph sighed. Leo groaned loudly in frustration.

"I am trying to use my mystic teleportation powers! Obviously!"

"Your what?" Donnie scoffed.

"I'm sorry, you mean the weird mystic things that we've been doin' completely against our will for the past two weeks and have absolutely zero control over? That one?" Raph grit out.

"Well, I'm starting to get the hang of the pattern..." Leo muttered.

"You've gotta be kiddin' me!!!"

"Well, maybe he can really do it!" Mikey chipped in with a bit of tentative encouragement.

"So, let me get this straight," Donnie said, rubbing his temples. "You are trying to teleport all six of us inside of the Battle Nexus... using your mind. Is that correct?"

Leo scowled. He shuffled his feet at the dirt, his lower lip poked out.

"It could happen," he huffed.

"You're an idiot."

"Leo, there's no way this is ever gonna work! We barely even know anything about these powers!" Raph insisted. "What if it's dangerous?!"

"I'm getting the hang of it!" Leo repeated. "I could do it! And how would you know, anyway? You don't even have any powers yet!"

"Guys!" April yelled over the chaos, and the rest of the group paused to glance over.

Scowling, she gestured wildly to the little yellow yokai creature that had led him here.

Oh, right. The one who teleported.

There was a long beat of silence.

"Yeah, that's probably a better plan," Leo reluctantly conceded, though he was still pouting.

"Thank you," April said, scooping the yokai up, who purred and waved his tail, seemingly happy to help. "Okay, come on guys, huddle up. And try not to fall over this time!"

The whole group obeyed, scrunching up around each other and grabbing onto various hands and elbows to make sure everyone would make it to where they needed to go. But something Leo had said nagged at the edges of Raph's mind, gnawing at him even as a bright flash of cyan light overtook them, the world going out from under their feet as they teleported once again.

Why didn't he have any powers yet?

---

Donatello wasn’t exactly sure what he was expecting the inside of the Battle Nexus to look like, but it wasn’t ‘literal sports stadium.’

Though they stumbled a bit, they all managed to keep their footing this time once they teleported inside the halls of the Battle Nexus, thankfully in a quiet, unoccupied corner just outside of a stairwell. Perhaps it had been naive of him, but he hadn’t expected the inside of this place to so closely resemble the inside of a modern football arena.

“Nice job, little guy,” April whispered to the little yellow yokai, who looked just a bit more tired than he had before, Donnie noted, panting softly. “We’ll take it from here. You rest,” she instructed gently, tucking the critter into her jacket.

“Anyone have any idea where we’re going?” Leo questioned, looking around suspiciously.

“No,” Raph admitted. “But everyone stick close. And… act casual. This place has gotta be crawling with yokai!” Donnie concurred; he could hear the roars of the crowd from here. “If we don’t call any attention to ourselves, we can just blend in. Dad has be around here somewhere.”

“You got it, bossman,” Leo hummed. “Come on. I think the main stadium is over there. Let’s check that out first and see what the deal is.”

Now, Donnie may be a theater kid, but he was not exactly an actor the way Leo was, (or claimed to be, anyway,) and so ‘acting casual’ was a bit of a demand. He was very focused on trying to make his body language ‘casual,’ in keeping his muscles untensed and his expression neutral, to the extent that he was not especially paying that much attention to their surroundings as the group trailed after Leo. He followed his siblings’ lead into the main seating area of the arena, adjusting the settings of his headphones slightly as they moved to join the edges of the crowd, hoping to keep out the excited screams of the fans.

As a result, he was a bit taken aback when he did look up to take in the scene of the ring below them.

And oh. Oh my god.

This really was fucking bloodsport, huh?

“Jesus christ--”

He was vaguely aware of Raph’s hand hurriedly slapping over Mikey’s eyes before he could get a good look at the scene not just in the battle ring below, but also projected onto the massive jumbotron, and the younger immediately gave a yelp of protest.

“Hey! Raph--”

“Mikey, I know that you don’t wanna be babied and you’re gonna complain, but I really need you to just trust your big brother on this one,” Raph hissed out, his voice tight. “Don’t. Look.”

April had her hands over her mouth, and Leo bristled, mumbling a few curses. Donnie really, really didn’t want to be watching this, but he couldn’t quite take his eyes away. There was a wet, crunching noise, so loud that they could hear it even from up here in the balconies (were they mic’ed up? Sweet baby Galileo--) and the entire party winced around him as the crowds roared in delight.

“What happened?!” Mikey cried from behind Raph’s hands.

“Donnie?” April said, glancing over at him.

He swallowed hard, his stomach flipping. No, no, no. Come on. Keep it together, Vomitello. Not the time, not the place, not at all casual…!

Leo, to his credit, caught on pretty quickly, paling a bit at the realization and jumping forward to bodily whip Donnie away from the scene, beginning to herd the group away.

“Okay, well, Dad’s definitely not down there!” He bit out with a nervous laugh. “Thank fucking god… Look. Obviously, we’re up super high. Let’s find the stairs, start heading down, and see if we find anything on the way,” he said hurriedly, not slowing his pace until they were basically back out where they started, in the near-abandoned outside hallways.

“Sounds like a plan,” Raph said, finally releasing his grip on Mikey’s head. “Uh. Don…?”

“I’m good,” he squeaked out, leaning over slightly, his hands on his knees as he coughed a few times. “All good, no problem…! Just… gimme a second…!”

“Donald,” Leo said through gritted teeth, clapping his hands together decisively. “I am literally begging you not to puke right now.”

“I am doing my best, thank you!” Donnie snapped in response, squeezing his eyes shut. “Oh my god, why was it so lumpy? It looked like cottage cheese!”

“What are you doing!? Stop thinking about it!” Leo cried.

“Think about something else instead! Like… the periodic table! You love that thing,” Mikey suggested brightly. “Like, uhhh, what’s the symbol for chlorine?”

“C-L,” Donnie bit out, flapping his hands a bit and letting out a slow breath through a clenched jaw. “Come on, Mikey, that’s way too easy.”

“Okay, uhhm, what’s the atomic number for iodine?”

“Fifty-three.”

“Yeah! And what’s the atomic mass of titanium?”

“Forty-seven-point-eight-six-seven.”

“Yep! And uranium?”

“Oh, uranium, my beloved, my white whale…! Two-hundred and thirty-eight-point-zero-two-eight-nine.”

“AHHH!” Mikey imitated a buzzer. “Wrong!”

Donnie’s head snapped up. “What?!”

“Just kidding!” Mikey chirped happily. “I don’t actually know the answer. You’re probably right.”

“Oh, you evil genius,” Donnie said, shaking his head. “I’m never helping you study for science class ever again.”

“Pshhhh, yeah you will. Plus you feel better now, don’t you?” Mikey pressed, grinning wide.

“Yes, okay, fine. I owe you one,” Donnie sighed deeply, offering just the smallest of smiles and rubbing the other’s head as though tousling hair, (not that he had any anymore. Ugh, don’t think about that, either,) eliciting a giggle from the other. At least the nausea had backed off now. “Okay. Come on. Leo’s right, shockingly enough. Let’s head downstairs and see if we can find anything.”

“Oh thank god,” Leo whispered, yanking the door to the stairwell open and gesturing to his siblings. “Okay, c’mon, let’s go! Vamanos!”

The trip down through the Battle Nexus was long and boring, but admittedly, calming. Donnie had always been a fan of repetitive actions, and so far, every new floor they investigated they found much of the same, not uncovering much save for more seating for screaming, cheering yokai along with the occasional food court or souvenir stand. Any guards they found they made sure to steer clear of, slowly working their way down through the stadium.

“This is going nowhere,” Raph hissed softly, leaning into Leo as they did a lap through yet another floor of stadium seating. Quite frankly, Donnie was beginning to wonder if all these floors were exactly the same. “Where the heck do you think they’re keepin’ Dad?”

“I don’t know! How would I know?” Leo questioned, bristling a bit.

“This was your plan!”

“Yeah, ‘cause no one else had a plan!” He bit back, scowling. “Look, we’ve just gotta… uh… we’ve gotta…” He looked around for a moment, floundering for just a second before he lit up, pointing.

“We’ve just gotta follow one of those guys!”

Everyone glanced over, and April frowned a bit.

“Follow one of the guards?”

“Yeah!” Leo nodded excitedly. “Look, if anyone’s gonna know how to get into the secret, spooky parts of the Nexus, it’ll be an employee! There’s no way Dad’s just in the stands somewhere or in any of the other public bits of this place. And we’re just walking in circles.” He said with a roll of his wrist. “But I bet if we tail one of those dudes, they’ll lead us straight to him! We just gotta be sneaky.”

“He does have a pretty good point,” Mikey reasoned.

“I dunno. It seems kinda dangerous,” April said, raising a brow.

“Yeah, but we don’t have any other ideas…” Raph said, crossing his arms over his chest.

The three of them glanced over at Donnie, and he sighed, tilting his head back and forth for a moment to do some rapid calculations.

“I do agree that the risk associated with this plan of action is… significant,” he said, frowning a bit. “Butttttt… just wandering around aimlessly isn’t going to get us anywhere. Following someone has a much higher probability of success.”

“That sounds good enough to me!” Raph said, giving a nod. “Alright. Let’s do this then. Everyone’s just gotta be ninja-level sneaky. Got it?”

“Got it,” the group agreed, giving a nod.

Would this go horribly wrong? Only one way to find out.

Finding their target was easy enough. This place was crawling with guards, quite frankly, they just had to pick one. After rejecting the first few targets, as they were all rather beefy, they settled on a slightly smaller, less-deadly-looking Nexus employee to follow.

“Okay,” Leo said. “We’ve just gotta tail him for a while and see where he goes. Everyone stick close, and be quiet.”

“Obviously! You don’t have to tell us to be quiet!” Donnie hissed back.

“Both of you shut up!” Raph whispered. “Look, come on, pay attention! He’s on the move. Mad Dogz, roll out! We can’t lose this guy.”

Donnie huffed and grumbled a bit, resisting the urge to hipcheck Leo as the group began picking their way through the halls, taking care to stick to the shadows. At first, Donnie thought that this was just another waste of their time, and they would end up doing even more laps around the stadium. He dared to get his hopes up, however, when the fox-like yokai paused in front of an unassuming wall. It looked about the same as any other portion of wall in this place, but once the Yokai placed his hand (paw?) to it, it lit up white, and suddenly, there was a door that wasn’t there before.

“Whoa! Lookit that!” Mikey gasped.

“We’re all already looking at it, Mikey, be quiet,” Donnie hissed.

“What’d Raph say!? Shut it! And come on! Quick and quiet, before the door closes!” Raph whispered with a hurried wave of his arm, and the five took off, closing the gap between themselves and the guard in order to slip inside the secret panel, quiet as ninjas-- just like Dad taught them. Even April was surprisingly quiet, and Donnie was privately impressed. It took them years of lessons with their dad (and ill-advised shenanigans that they wished not to face consequences for,) to get this good at sneaking.

All five of them made it in, and the guard was already halfway down the hall by the time they joined them, seemingly none the wiser. Donnie didn’t make a sound, but silently, he fucking whooped and cheered. Yes!!! He had been really fifty-fifty on whether or not this was going to work out.

At the end of the hall, the fox guard clicked a button on the wall, and about five seconds later, the wall opened up like an elevator.

The elevator had about eight other yokai inside. These yokai did not have their backs on them.

“HEY!” One of them immediately shouted, pointing at their group, as they had not yet managed to find a proper hiding space in the long, but sparse hallway. Every single other yokai snapped around to look at them. “What’re you doing in here!? This is employees only!”

Fuck.

“Uhhh…” A pained smile spread on Leo’s face. “We’re looking for the bathroom?”

“Sure,” the fox scoffed, turning to face them properly now, beginning to make his way back down the short hall to meet them. “Alright, lemme see your tickets. I’ll escort you back to your seats.”

“Our tickets? Uhhh… Sure…” Raph spluttered for a moment, laughing nervously. “Let’s see, uh, where did we put--”

April yanked her club from her backpack and promptly slammed it into the yokai’s head with a loud thunk.

“APRIL!” Raph screamed, jumping in surprise. “What the hell!?”

“Well, there’s nowhere to run!” She shouted in response, and, ah, welp, there she went. Full charge ahead, then? “Come on, we gotta get into that elevator!”

Donnie sighed deeply. Well, he had predicted fifty-fifty.

He set his jaw, rolling his shoulders a few times before whipping his bo staff from his back. “Alright, well. Here we go.”

“COWABUNGA!” Raph shouted as he charged forward, and Donnie resisted the urge to roll his eyes. They were gonna have to work on battle formations and plans later.

But he was prepared this time. He wasn’t gonna freeze up and back down.

Yes, this was a fight. An actual, for real fight, which he had never been in before! But he hadn’t trained for nothing.

He got this. They’d be fine. They got this.

Leo laughed, sliding forward with quick, practiced ease, his odachi flashing forward to smack the blunt of the blade against the ankles of the nearest yokai and send them tumbling to the ground while he darted past them. April was right on his tail, beaning anyone who got too close and following her younger brother’s lead. “Come on, guys, keep up!”

“Right behind yah!” Mikey cheered, both him and Raph rushing forward at a matching pace. Despite the size difference, the two easily kept up with one another. Where Raph elbowed his opponents out of the way, clearing himself a path by bodily throwing their enemies to the side, Mikey darted and danced his way around them, a zig-zagged ballet to Raph’s straight, unyielding path. He whooped loudly as he went, always just out of reach with each step.

“Hot Soup!” Donnie noted their eldest brother howled out another battle cry (wasn’t that copyrighted?) Mikey’s kusari-fundo whipped about to fling him forward, tackling the largest of the guards to the ground and sending them both tumbling down the hall.

Like… Both of them tumbling.

Also, Mikey was in the mix too, still attached by the chains of his kusari-fundo.

Well, at least it was still forward momentum!

Donnie inhaled deeply, his muscles coiling.

Couldn’t get left behind.

He darted down the hallway, jumping over and dodging around anyone already on the ground. At one point, a hand flashed out, grabbing at his ankle, and Donnie bit out a series of curses. He wrenched himself out of their grip, stumbling slightly, and nearly ran straight into one of the other (quite large) yokai in the hallway. A rapid equation darted through his head, however, and he just barely managed to correct his footing at the last second, turning sharply on his heel to transfer the momentum into his staff. The weapon curled around to slam into the guard with a heavy, satisfying thawk, sending them sprawling to the ground, and the entire hallway shuddered at the impact.

Well, that was a close one. He hopped over their fallen form and surged ahead, reaching down to grab Mikey’s hand as he went, dragging both him and Raph to their feet behind him, “Come on!”

The two found their footing quickly with the assist, falling back into a sprint-- smacking and dodging enemies as they went with about a seventy-five-percent success rate. Jesus, had this hallway always been this long? It felt like it was taking a stupid amount of time to get to the other end of it! Out of the very corners of his eyes, Donnie just barely spotted one of the larger guards rising back up to their feet, lunging at him from behind-- only for a neon green club to come whipping out of nowhere at the very last second, colliding with the side of his assailant’s head and throwing him right back to the ground.

“Hey! Only I get to hit my little brothers!” April shrieked, her face set in a furious scowl. The guard, a huge, stocky, lion-like creature snarled in reply, lashing out with his legs to send her sprawling to the floor with a yelp.

“Oh, you did not just do that to our friend!” Mikey snapped, flashing forward to stand protectively in front of their sister, his kusari-fundo whizzing around them, filling the air with a barely-there whine. “Back off!”

He lashed out with the weapon, his arm whipping forward with the movement-- only to blink in surprise when physics failed to behave as expected. Which, uh, was pretty unusual for physics. Physics were typically pretty reliable. But the weight at the end of his weapon spun wildly in place, suspended in air for several long seconds, before it promptly lit up in a blazing flame.

“Ooh!” Mikey shrieked in delight. “Magic weapon! Guys, loo-- ACK!”

And there they were, Donnie thought dimly to himself.

The uncontrolled variables.

Donnie gasped, immediately ducking down and covering his head as his brother flew about the room like a deranged bird, still hanging onto his (seemingly demonic) mystic weapon. He all but pinballed off the walls, screaming the whole time. The lion just barely managed to leap out of the way before Mikey crashed into the wall, flopping down with a small squeak on impact, luckily seeming shaken but not injured.

“WHOA! Mikey! That was awesome!” Raph gaped, his eyes widening. “Dude, how did you do that?!”

“I dunno!” Mikey said, stumbling to his feet and kind of wavering a bit with dizziness. “I was just swinging my weapon around and it just-- did it!”

“Let me try!” Raph said, shaking his tonfas about like they were goddamn maracas. “Come on, magic weapon, magic weapon, magic weapon-- OOH!” He yelped in surprise as one of the remaining guards crashed into him, snarling as they all but whipped him from his feet. But Raph held his ground. “Okay, alright-- magic weapon tests later! Fight now!”

“Can’t wait to see what mine does!” Leo laughed as he leaped over the group, diving towards an oncoming yokai. He swung his blade forward, slicing through the air with a loud crackle of near-electric energy--

A bright blue circle of mystic energy promptly opened up beneath Leo, and he yelped in surprise as he went plunging downward.

And downward.

“Hm,” Donnie remarked. “I guess he can teleport.”

“GET! ME! OFF! THIS! RIDE!” Leo howled, flailing as he plummeted endlessly through the two parallel portals he had sliced through reality, one below his feet and the other up above his head, only picking up the pace the longer he fell.

Donnie sighed loudly. He was sure someone else would get him. Eventually. In the meantime, someone was gonna have to take care of the remaining yokai guards. Luckily, this one was suitably distracted by his twin brother’s infinite falling.

“And that’s why I like fighting the old-fashioned way,” Donnie hummed, slipping past the yokai’s side and into his blind spot, watching their eyes widen in surprise as he jabbed sharply at them with his bo staff. They were just barely able to dodge out of the way of Donnie’s attacks. “Though the portal does make for some quality entertainment, I must admit--”

They jumped out of Donnie’s range, swiping forward with a clawed arm, and Donnie’s body immediately, instinctively moved in response, his bo staff flashing upward to block the move and force them off-kilter. He hardly even had to think. His body already knew what to do when he needed it.

It’s just like a tournament. No different from a tournament. You’ve won thousands of fights. This is exactly the same thing. Just keep your head, do the math-- You’re good at this, remember?

Bouncing off the yokai’s arm, Donnie’s staff whipped back around to ricochet into the side of their head, earning him a frustrated and perhaps pained snarl in response. See? Donnie grinned, just for a second, ducking easily out of the way of the guard’s counterattack and leaping to the side, finding himself the space once more to adjust his stance and run rapid calculations. Numbers danced in front of his eyes, and he quickly zeroed in on the equation with the best probability of success, building his plan of action around that.

The yokai snarled, leaping after him-- exactly as he expected. Donnie’s entire body instantly snapped downward and out of their path in response, ducking away from their attack. At the same time, they pitched themselves to the left, whipping their bo staff around as they went to find their mark. The guard made a short, strangled noise of surprise as the weapon collided with their throat, sending them reeling in the opposite direction. They were almost immediately on their knees, choking and spluttering as Donnie darted away, just the tiniest bit breathless as he went.

“Just like I planned it--!” He had laughed, quietly delighted that it had, in fact, gone the way he planned it, and why had he been worried? He could do this, he knew how to do this!-- when his youngest sibling went flying into his side with a yelp.

The pair of them tumbled across the hallway before slamming into the wall, bringing their unexpected trip to a sudden and grinding halt. Donnie groaned softly, wincing as he slowly forced himself back up, stars all but dancing in front of his eyes, Mikey flopped over beside him and seeming just as dazed. Ow. Okay. That hadn’t been in his calculations.

He just barely caught sight of the lion yokai diving for them, catching on about half a second before the attack landed.

He didn’t run any numbers this time. He didn’t have the chance.

His muscles moved quicker than even his brain could, throwing himself bodily over top of his baby brother to shield him from the coming impact.

[ next ]

#sorrywhatnowau #sorrywhatnowau fic #rottmnt #tmnt #rise of the tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt au #rottmnt fanfic #rottmnt fanfiction #tmnt fanfiction #rottmnt human au #tmnt human au #fanfic #fidgetwing #fighting and potential injury #my beta reader has already informed me ill be hearing from their lawyer so don't worry abt it #also i make my best (and by that i mean dumbest) jokes in this chapter

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