#takes place after whatever the fuck happened in that courthouse

[jar-of-maise]

She takes his hands gently, cradling them in a manner that made Lyney unsure of how to respond. Those hands could never lie. They shook with an awful tremble, like the last flutter of a dying butterfly's wings.

“I’m sorry for loving you,” she says softly, her eyes filled with unshed tears. 

That was the burden of the unsaid, you never once thought that nightmares could be dreams too, until they were there in front of you.

Dread settles in Lyney's chest, it drops like a heavy stone into a still pond, sliding in without resistance. It sinks to the bottom of his chest where it's weight aches with a dull pain, “Don’t say that," he clears his throat awkwardly, "please, don’t say that.”

She stares back at him, unseen dread haunting her dull eyes, “What?”

Lyney swallows thickly, his breath shuddering in his chest, rattling like fragile marbles in a glass container, “don’t say things like that,” he whispers.

She drops his hands, where they hang like dead weights. She searches his eyes for something she can't find, for something she won't find. It was like the sun, desperately trying to reach the moon, yet finding only it's reflection in the burning daylight, “Things like what?”

She does not want to know the answer to that question. But a burning sensation compells her to ask. Perhaps, with a single word, an entire tragedy could be rewritten.

Looking at Lyney now, she knows that the feeling is mutual. That is an awful realisation to come to, she turns her head away to avoid looking in the mirror.

Lyney, the other half of her, the mirror that she never needed to look in. Lyney, who was the only one who could attune to her soul. Her Lyney who had never been lost for words like he was now, who'd never fumbled or been uncertain.

"Things like what?" She cries, when met with silence. Her hands twitch uncontrollably, and then she's lunging forwards her hands reaching out like desperate claws which latch onto Lyney's shoulders.

These hands of hers were gentle, they were kind. So now, seized by grief as they were, her fingers could not quite grasp the hatred that she wanted them to.

They were strangers to force yet they exerted a violence that was comparable to a monster, "tell me!" It's not a scream, by the time the words drag out of her mouth, it's a mangled, broken tangle of words.

"It's not fair, it's not fair," she says hoarsely, "why do you- you can't-You don't get to do this to me!" She yells, and it's a sound that wretches at Lyney's heart.

"Answer me! What things?! What things shouldn't I say?" Her hands were not made for violence, they were crafted with love in mind. But they tightened on Lyney's shoulders, trembling all throughout.

“Things,” Lyney finally chokes, blinded with tears, “that make it sound like loving me was a mistake,” his hands reach up clumsily, with none of the dexterity or reflex they usually moved with.

She was silent, tears streamed down her face in long, ugly rivers. They fractured her face and drew shadows across her face that did not belong there.  

“It’s not a mistake. This wasn't a mistake,” Lyney whispers desperately, not trusting his voice, yet continuing treacherously.

This is a one way path, a lonely dark road with no return tickets, “you loved Lyney, just plain Lyney. You would never lie," he pauses as his voice wavers, "you didn’t take me by accident, you chose me…didn’t you?” 

“I don’t know,” she admits, lowering her head, she had never admitted defeat. Giving up was not an option, yet she could not conquer this mountain. The shadow of its height, and sheer slopes rendered the fire in her heart cold and frigid.

“I don’t know you. Do I really love Lyney? Who was I in love with?” She asks herself, there is no reply.

This is another question that she doesn't want to know the answer to. But perhaps there is no answer, she's left grasping for strings that have already been broken. The gray cannot be defined, nor described, and in the face of such uncertainty, she doesn't know what to do.

Neither does the magician standing before her. His face is the image of forced apathy, like a puppet with no strings.

"Lyney..." Regret, and immutable yearning surge into her chest, where they mix together like a tapestry woven wrong. The strings are tangled, and the only remaining option is to cut the fabric entirely.

"Perhaps the greatest tragedy of it all is, the more I talk to you, the less I know of you..."

[sugarbunnii]

daddy’s girl pt. 1

—

your mom remarried soon after your father’s death, it had felt like she gave it no chance for it to even sink in for you by the time she was down at the courthouse getting married to some man. when you had told you about it, you had initially been angry with her, seething when she told you he was going to move in soon.

you weren’t ready for a step as big as this, for some stranger to come in and try and take the place of your father. maybe it was because you were a daddy’s girl or maybe because you didn’t like the idea of change, but you hated the idea of another man in your house. another man sleeping in the bed you used to crawl into when you had nightmares as a kid. another man sipping out of your father’s favorite mug, putting his shoes where your dad used to after work, sitting on the sofa you used to sit on and watch movies with your dad.

you realized you hated your stepdad, no matter who he was he could never replace your dad and you will make sure he knows it.

slowly, but surely, you never gave him gifts for his birthday or father’s day, no shitty crafts or even crafts. he didn’t get anything from you at all.

you made sure to ignore his “good mornings” and questions when you got home from school, you walked straight to your room and refused to talk to him unless your mom made you.

everything was fine, you both didn’t speak until, “fuck do you think you’re doing, going into my room looking through my stuff!” you yell angrily at wilbur, throwing a stuffed animal at him as he runs down the stairs

“hey, hey, hey, whats going on?” your mom asks looking at wilbur

“i was just-“he was looking through my stuff!” you say cutting wilbur off, “get your husband under control mom!”

your mom looks to you then to wilbur, “what happened?” she asks him softly as he gets closer to her

“well she came home smelling like weed the other day and i was-“OH! cut the shit wilbur!” you say coming down the stairs “mom, he was looking through my stuff!”

“i was just worried you were-“I WASN’T! mom! he’s lying!”

“well n/n, he has the right to be concerned for you, you always shower after coming home” you mom says now agreeing with wilbur

“b-but i’m not, mom please”

“well your dad has the right to be concerned for you” she says as you feel the rage building up inside you “he cares and, n/n, just listen to your dad”

“he’s not my dad!” you yell, stomping back to your room and slamming the door shut.

you were seething with anger, you hate your stepdad for existing and you hate your mom for marrying him and you hate your dad for dying and leaving you alone, you hated everything.

slowly but surely you cried yourself to exhaustion, passing out as your mom talked with wilbur

“i think i need to send her off to some sort of boarding school or a psych ward” your mom said sadly “she can’t even handle being around you and i’m probably gonna have to cancel my trip or take her with me” she said as wilbur felt himself get nervous a she heard her, if she cancelled her trip she would ruin his hard work and his plan.

“look, don’t worry about it, i’ll talk it out with her, set boundaries and whatever she needs to help her feel more comfortable” wilbur said

“are you sure?” she asked nervously

“course i am! by the time you come back, me and her are gonna be best buds!” he reassured her

before wilbur knew it she was in the taxi waving him off

[br-uwu-cewayne]

A Moment’s Peace

Ficlet for this art:

"Don't turn around."

 It's not the first time he's heard it said this way, the low murmur rapsy and guttural even without the distortion of the cowl's modulator. Jim barely jumps any more, having grown accustomed to that familiar warm presence slipping up behind him seemingly out of nowhere, any time, any place. After all, crime hardly rests in this town just because the sun's come up, and the suit isn’t exactly inconspicuous outside of Batman's usual "business hours."

So, they've got a system.

On a bench in a dim courthouse hall during a midday trial's recess, in line for the corner coffee shop with the morning sun filtering past the cloud cover, at events like this particular evening's gala - lit up shining and bright against the dark city skyline with the who's who of Gotham (and all the reporters that ensue) milling just a few feet away - whenever or wherever his partner can't approach him openly... he’ll feel the air shift just so slightly behind him, a touch of warmth suddenly present at his back, and he’ll know.

Batman will offer a quiet “don't look” in lieu of a greeting, mask off and voice - his real voice - pitched low and dark. Jim hardly needs to be told, but he nods nearly imperceptibly anyway in acknowledgement. And both of them politely pretend they don't notice just how naked and vulnerable the whole situation feels right out there in the sharp light of day - Batman's face bare, Jim just a sidelong glance away from the man's most dangerous secret...

Tonight's no different. Or, should be no different.

But where Gordon was expecting the usual subtle press of a folder into his hand - a surreptitious pass along of "borrowed" files or evidence or whatever new info Batman uncovered that couldn't wait until the next shift - he instead feel the press of a body, lined up warm long his back, hands snaking around his hips and halting as though the arms attached were unsure if they were allowed to wrap the rest of the way around.

He stutters on the drag of his cigarette.

"Just..." Batman's natural voice wavers from somewhere between his shoulder blades. Less raspy, more... tired. "Just give me a moment?"

Jim can feel an odd lump in his throat as he tries to answer, straining to pushout a single consonant as the ashes fall from between his fingers. There's a strange beat of silence between them, tense and uncomfortable in a way it hasn't been for years. He's taking too long to answer. He knows he is. He's taking too long and he's holding his body too tight and his back is too stiff and Batman is going to notice all of those things and look he's already starting to let go and back up just say something, damnit- he feels warm fingers loosening their grip and sliding back, catching awkwardly for a moment at his belt loops as Batman fumbles.

Batman. Fumbles. He never thought he'd see the day.

"Shit, I... I'm sorry, J-... Commissioner, I didn't-"

Another second. One final tense stretch of silence. Then that warmth is slowly, haltingly. molding itself against his back again. Hands hovering hesitantly at his sides. Fingertips barely resting against the leather of his belt. Hot breath huffing out against the back of his dress shirt, a little... lower, than he expected, honestly. Not for the first time, he wonders just how much of Batman’s looming height is just... boot.

 "What, they got you working security for this shit-show?" Oh thank fuck. Words. Words are happening again. From his throat. Words are making their way out.  A little hoarse, a little forced maybe, still choking up a bit at the back of his tongue, but they're happening. He drops his weight back, bumping into the quickly receding prescence in what he hopes comes off as a casual, playful way. Unaffected. Inviting. Even if a little late. "Thought that was a little below our pay grade."

"Something like that," the dark chuckle that follows is more familiar ground, and Jim finds himself mirroring the familiar wry grin that must be twitching across Batman's lips now. "I have... a suspicion or two about a few attendees. Best way to confirm-"

"-is to work the room," Jim's grin grows dour as he finishes the sentence with a sigh. "God I hate that part of the job." An amused huff into the collar of his dress shirt has Jim barely restraining a childish urge to squirm away, the hot air ticking the back of neck.

"You seem to be doing alright," returns the usual rasp, Batman clearly returning to his own sure footing just as Jim is. "Mayor Garcia seems pleased enough with the impression you're making."

"Yeah yeah, his own personal horse and pony show," Jim grumbles, his near forgotten cigarette finding his lips again for another pull. He's a little surprised to find his hand steady. To feel so casual about this. About letting Batman take his weight as they lean against the balcony. Complaining about his job while the man hums against his shoulder. The scene is practically domestic, only the clinking of crystal glasses amidst muffled voices behind them and the cold wind cutting in from in front keeps Jim anchored to reality.

He thinks that should bother him more than it actually does.

Right now, though, all that's bothering him is the fact he foolishly left his dress jacket inside. He leans further into Batman as the next sharp breeze cuts through. Observant as always, the other man lifts his hands from Jim's hips to slide properly around his midsection, warm arms now bracketing him and chasing away most of the chill. The color of the jacket sleeves is lost to the night but the fabric is finely woven, smooth and soft to the touch. Jim's free hand finds its way up one forearm, grasping and grounding their odd little embrace.

"You can always head home early, Jim." Batman's voice is amused now more than anything else, chiding. "You've already managed to put in more of an appearance than you usually do. I’m sure you’ve fulfilled your ‘civic obligation to the public’ by now."

 "Yeah, well..." Gordon snorts dryly, squeezing Batman's arm. The sensation of thin fabric and pliant, warm muscle feels uniquely strange and vulnerable compared to the usual cold, textured armor he'd feel under his fingers whenever they'd have to scrabble along scaffolding or warehouse crates or wherever else cases took them that Jim wasn't... quite as graceful on his feet as his partner, needing a hand up every so often. It dawns on him that they don’t really touch each other much, otherwise. Only when one of them is hurt, or struggling. Suddenly, Jim feels like thats... quite a shame. "S'not really so bad, at the moment. Just. Needed a break from all the... you know." He gestures vaguely over their shoulders with the cigarette, careful of the glowing cherry.

"Yes, quite." It tickles a sensitive spot between his shoulders as Batman hums it out. Jim recalls the strange tone of his partner's voice a few minutes ago, when the man first stepped up behind him. 'Working the room,' he'd said. Yeah, a Wayne Gala is a tough room to handle on the best of days, let alone fresh off a nasty case with more than it's fair share of scuffles. Jim wonders if Batman had managed to even get any sleep since they wrapped it up this morning. The chattering of voices and glad-handing and well-wishing and toasts and even the high soaring strings of the orchestra...

Jim saw the blows Batman took last night. When the man says he's fine, Jim knows to leave him be, but surely the pary can't be helping the hell of a headache he's gotta be nursing. And that's just the noise. This kind of crowd, a man has to constantly be on guard around.

Gordon can speak from experience, dealing with Gotham's elite is like dealing with sharks circling a lonely boat out on the ocean... and the media presence that follows just stirs up all the chum in the water. Even though most have learned that the city's new commissioner can't be charmed or bought into their pockets, all the smiling and small talk and constant care to watch his words and not leave any fumbled openings for eager, bloodthirsty socialites - or worse, journalists - to get their claws into and rip apart in favor of the new juicy new story, maybe knock him down far enough they get a new, more pliable commissioner... it's exhausting.

He wonders, briefly, how Batman's attending the party. Snuck in as one of journalists perhaps, where prying questions and digging for info wouldn't seem so out of place? Or perhaps, serving drinks, where loose lips forget about keeping secrets in favor of impressing bartenders with dark grins and broad chests and thick arms... the night seems to be growing warmer, a palpable heat rising to Jim's cheeks. He takes another drag off his quickly shrinking cigarette. Still, though...

"Could be worse." He muses, syllables muffled and slurring around the filter between his lips.

"Mnn..." It comes out as less of a sigh against his shoulder, and more of a yawn muffled by it. Jim has to bite back a laugh at the thought of ever using the term sleepy to describe The Batman, but... if the shoe fits. "Alright, then. Short of another hostage situation-" he does have to let out a chuckle at that one. It's become an all too common occurrence at these events, after all. Best not to tempt fate. "-what exactly do you have in mind that could be worse."

 "Well," Jim muses, stubbing his cigarette out on the marble banister and greedily shoving his empty, chilly hand up his partner's other warm sleeve, ignoring the hiss of protest as his cold fingers encircle Batman's wrist. The pad of his middle finger comes to rest against what must be a rather nice watch, feeling a cool crystal face and the reassuring tik-tik-tik of a strong second hand. "-as a guest, you've got a little leeway. Take a smoke break here, grab a drink refill there, just... drag out the little moments in between."

He thinks about their host for the evening - surrounded by people all night, pulled out on the floor for dances, pulled back off it for handshakes and claps on the back, out onto it again for announcements and awards, all while checkbooks flutter at him begging for signatures the whole way in between... "At least you're not Bruce Wayne. Poor bastard probably can't even get away to take a piss."

He's expecting another customary dark, low chuckle to rumble down his spine.

The sudden sharp bark of high, clear laughter startles him so thoroughly he'd have tumbled right over that balcony if it weren't for Batman holding him tight. The man practically curls in on himself, shaking against Jim's back as he struggles to regain some self control, the occasional cut-off chortle or strained snort still slipping past the thin fabric of Jim’s dress shirt doing absolutely nothing to muffle the sound.

"W-... was it something I said?"

[florrickandassociates]

TGF Thoughts: 6x04 -- The End of Eli Gold

FINALLY I HAVE FINISHED WRITING THIS. I'm hoping the other episodes don't take me nearly as long to write about.

What an episode name. What an episode. This is probably one of my favorite episodes TGF has done! It’s amazing what actually focusing on the long histories between characters and using them to elevate the themes of the show can do!  

OK TUMBLR IS BEING SO FUCKING ANNOYING RIGHT NOW AND NOT LETTING ME MAKE A BULLETED LIST. Apologies for formatting.

We start off with a warning that the episode includes content that “may be sensitive to some viewers... especially viewers who are disturbed by exploding brain matter.” I have so many questions about how this came to be. It’s cheeky and gives off strong BrainDead vibes, but it’s also a serious content warning. So was it required but the Kings got to be silly about it? I never see content warnings other than, like, TV-MA SLV on streaming shows, there was no warning when Will died, and there were no warnings for the (frequent) head explosions in BrainDead, so why now? The tone of this warning feels very “we were forced to have this here but we compromised with the network and we at least get to be silly about it” (like the playful “Skip Intro” button on Evil). But part of me wonders if it was a creative choice to raise the stakes? I can’t imagine why you’d want to? But it obviously tells us that someone’s brain is getting blown out (or that we’re getting a BrainDead crossover), so the writers had to know that this warning would also be a spoiler... I just have a lot of questions okay! 

I don’t love credits at the beginning because they deny me the feeling of, “wait, how are we getting to the credits NOW?” that I somehow get every episode even though I know the credits are always going to come after the 15 minute mark. I’ll forgive this episode.  

We pick up where we left off—in the aftermath of the explosion in Dr. Bettencourt’s office. I know they’re mostly headed there eventually, but I am so glad this scene didn’t end with a kiss.  

I did not pick up on it myself, but whoever noted that the explosion of the credits spills over into the scene (and that’s why the credits roll over the footage) is very right.  

James Whitmore Jr. directed this one. His name isn’t a guarantee an episode is going to be eventful, but he IS one of the ones the writers trust with their eventful episodes. He directed Hitting the Fan.  

The people in the elevator bickering about Fox News has me thinking of BrainDead, specifically the subplot with the actress who is now best known for playing Kendall’s ex-wife on Succession. (She’ll always be Stern’s daughter to me though.)  

There’s more bickering about whether the protests are far left or far right, which is a premise I do not think the writers can sustain for very long. I get it, it’s thematic, but groups of people don’t just stay angry without (1) expressing why they are angry or (2) losing steam. We’ve gotta get somewhere with this. (I’d say the end of this episode gives a pretty definitive answer about who’s doing the protesting, unless it’s an endless cycle of protests and counterprotests.)  

I think Eli’s presence makes the stakes feel a little higher in this episode. The evolution of The Good Wife into The Good Fight happened so gradually that I can accept that this bizarre surreal universe is Diane’s and Elsbeth’s... but there’s something truly eerie about seeing Eli, who had previously been untouched by all of this surreal stuff and in my mind still lives in the pre-Trump world, in the middle of it all, too.  

I can believe the firm being close to the courthouse – that's just smart – but I don’t understand why Bettencourt’s office and the courthouse are so close together the car bomb would be felt in both places. Whatever. Connective tissue holding the episode together. 

This episode jumps right in to Eli being on the stand, which is our first sign that this isn’t going to be yet another “let’s watch our faves be clever and maneuver their way out of bogus charges” episode.  

Eli’s being accused of being the mastermind behind the “Democratic Watergate,” a fake thing that we’d never heard of before this moment. Based on everything that happens in this episode, seems like he’s guilty. Maybe not legally, since he’s too smart and shady for that, but he totally did it.  

I love Eli lol  

I also love Marissa’s “my dad is a lot and I love him so much” look when Eli makes a melodramatic scene on the stand 

Opposing counsel does not take Marissa seriously and knows she’s only there so she can’t testify.  

Hi Frank Landau. 

Marissa instantly knows that Landau walking in is NOT good for Eli. I was going to give the lead lawyer the benefit of the doubt and say that maybe he didn’t see Landau, but, no, he seems to just have bad instincts.  

I love Eli and Marissa saying “fuck” in unison.  

I’ll say this again (and again, and again) in this recap, but something this episode did that TGF has been missing is ACTUALLY LEAN INTO THE CHARACTERS. I’m already getting so much about Eli and Marissa’s dynamic (how they’re similar, different, where there are points of tension, how much they care about each other) and that’s making all of this land much better. I’ve seen the secret surprise witness plot a million times, but this episode makes it feel like I’m always watching Eli and Marissa first and the trial second.  

Marissa corners her dad in the elevator because Marissa knows that Eli did it... and that she inadvertently helped. Marissa’s mostly mad because this was stupid and sloppy.  

“I didn’t do this! Because there’s no proof I did this! So this argument is a massive waste of time.” So what I’m hearing is he totally did it.  

Diane gets in the elevator with flowers and gives one to Eli and one to Marissa. Marissa notices a piece of glass in Diane’s hair; Diane calmly explains that a window exploded on her. She says she’s surprisingly well... I think she’s just drugged up and in shock. Eli and Marissa do too. 

There’s a democratic fundraiser the following night and Ri’Chard wants to invite the associates. VIP Treatment vibes.  

Diane, who is totally okay and not acting at all weird, is sitting in a partners’ meeting cradling a bouquet of flowers. Liz notices.  

Ri’Chard can’t help himself: Liz tries to move on to the next agenda item, and this man hops out of his chair to ask why they’re attending a DEMOCRATIC fundraiser. Liz notes the DNC is a big client. Ri’Chard counters by suggesting they should support local black churches instead. One, religion at work is never going to go over easy. Two, why not both?  

Ri’Chard is also moving across the whole room, forcing everyone to swivel their chairs (since he’s taken away the conference table) so they can’t focus on him and Liz at the same time. 

Ri’Chard also then promises to do something that will mean more money for the equity partners (so, obviously, this goes over well with the audience of... equity partners). Liz wants this too, but doesn’t think it’s practical. Diane spins around on her chair and gives Liz a conspiratorial look.  

All the partners start applauding Ri’Chard, except Diane, who continues silently communicating with her friend Liz. (See! Another little character moment in the middle of a larger plot!)  

After the meeting, Ri’Chard accuses Liz of not liking his ideas and Liz is like, I actually just don’t like you making promises you can’t keep. Apparently the money’s not all there, even now that they’re doing super amazingly well. Ri’Chard thinks it is.  

(Apparently people are quitting left and right. I’d note this for context on the firm’s status but we all know this won’t be mentioned again.) 

Liz asks Ri’Chard to show her his plan before he announces it. He looks at her like he’s never considered that before. Wild. He blames this on his extroversion and says he can get a little carried away in front of people. Yes. That is what happened. That is why he announced his researched and highly appealing plan while commandeering the room: he just got carried away but didn’t intend to do any of that.  

Ri’Chard ends this conversation with “Jesus is Lord,” to which Liz just says, “Oh, yes he is.” I love Liz. 

“But you are not,” Liz whispers after Ri’Chard leaves. I love Liz even more.  

Liz finally – FINALLY – asks Jay to look into Ri’Chard. You would think that (1) Liz would’ve asked Jay to do this on day one and (2) Jay would’ve been curious enough on his own to look into it. I mean, Jay is trying to figure out what happened with the car bomb, which doesn’t seem to have anything at all to do with him or his job. He’s just naturally curious... so wouldn’t he be curious about this random new name partner who just showed up one day? 

Jay also suggests more security. I suggest, once again, that the firm allow people to work remotely.  

Marissa is in maximum snark mode during the next legal strategy session.  

Eli continues to say things that make it obvious he’s guilty, like that you talk about a lot of hypotheticals (“standard rat-fucking") and never do them... or you do, but through intermediaries.  

Between being dragged into an actual crime and being mocked in court, Marissa is fed up. She storms out to go do her actual job (hey, remember when my recaps used to be like 75% complaining about how Maia didn’t ever do work?)  

Eli goes after Marissa and asks what she wants. “You want me to take you on a father/daughter picnic, is that it? You want to go to Disneyland and get photos taken with mouse ears? This is who we are. If you’re in trouble, I help you. If I’m in trouble, you help me.” Harsh.  

“We’re transactional,” Marissa rephrases his words. “Exactly. Always have been, always will,” Eli agrees. I think they both think they mean it right now. There’s obviously a component of this in their relationship, but it’s clear that they actually do care about each other and get along... but they’re so similar that they clash like this often. 

Anyway, Marissa asks to be the one to cross-examine Landau in exchange for her not quitting the legal team/testifying against Eli.  

Diane watches Dr. Bettencourt’s videos while drinking a glass of wine in bed. Seems like she really feels just fine after the explosion. 

This quickly turns into Diane fantasizing about Dr. Bettencourt being in her bed. We all knew it was headed here.  

Absolutely unfair that we are getting a Diane scene about masturbation and anxiety when my Alicia OTPs were Alicia + therapy and Alicia + vibrator.  

The Diane/Kurt banter in this scene kind of makes me cringe but that also makes it feel a lot more real; I do not think most people are very profound when they’re horny  

I have not recapped what is actually going on in this scene because it’s... bizarre!  

Kurt gets a call from work. We know this because his phone says that “Work” is calling.  

“We had nothing to do with that car bomb,” Kurt says, to Diane’s alarm. What’s he involved with that he even has to say that sentence!? (Answer: the NRA.)  

Diane wakes Kurt up to tell him about her latest drug adventure. She says it’s for anxiety and he’s like, what anxiety? Diane references the world around her. What does he mean, what anxiety?! Though in his defense, I’m not sure “Diane struggles with anxiety” is the conclusion I would’ve come to from her actions, either – but it makes sense when I hear it. Also is he aware Diane had to dodge shattered glass when the car bomb went off? I truly can’t tell what the day to day of Diane and Kurt’s relationship is like, which makes it quite hard to have an opinion on if I think it’s a good thing (companionship when they need it, but otherwise they can be very independent) or a bad thing (what kind of relationship is this??) 

Kurt is like, uh, have you considered finding a real doctor? Diane wonders why they’re even having this conversation. Kurt points out that she brought it up. This almost feels like Diane has already moved on without realizing it.  

I think I’ve said this before, maybe even in the part of this recap I wrote a week ago, but my investment in Diane and Kurt plummeted after the whole Holly thing at the end of TGW. Not only does it ask me to believe that Kurt cheated (????), but the entire thing makes no sense and the resolution/reconciliation was hard to follow. At worst, Diane/Kurt’s relationship is confusing, and at best it’s sweet and lets me forget about all the weirdness. That’s still pretty shaky ground, even for someone who generally likes them together.  

Liz at the gym! Liz is at the gym! She’s listening to a law podcast when she hears that Ri’Chard is doing some self-promotion. She inelegantly slips off the treadmill and heads up to work (this seems to be an office gym?). Two cops with riot gear and assault rifles join her in the elevator and their presence does not put her at ease. Their silence doesn’t, either. 

Still in her workout clothes, she barges in on Ri’Chard’s prayer circle and glares at him. He introduces her as “Liz Reddick, daughter of Carl” and I would just love to know... is Carl Reddick’s name ruined or not? This remains unclear to me. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” Liz confronts Ri’Chard once they’re alone.  

Ri’Chard apparently accidentally ended up on NPR. Doubtful.  

Worse – he’s not talking about his own clients on this podcast. He's talking about the firm’s clients. He’s secured permission from everyone involved... except Liz. He’s also using his name instead of crediting the team, which he calls “good branding.” They are both right. And he’d have a lot more ground to stand on if he had, like, actually touched any of these cases. (I don’t understand why he is using the firm’s cases; surely he has his own?) 

Ri’Chard starts telling Liz about how the firm has to update itself and Liz is just not impressed. And why would she be? Ri’Chard might be right about branding and needing an identity and a refresh – this is certainly not the first time it’s come up – but Ri’Chard doesn’t need to lecture Liz on this point like she’s too dumb to get it. Liz gets his point... he simply doesn’t want to understand hers. She’s asking for him to treat her like a partner and he’s responding with garbage about brands.  

Liz raises her voice (though just a little bit, she’s letting her anger show but she’s very far from losing control here, which is a nice touch from Audra) and reminds Ri’Chard that the law firm is a “we” and not an “I” (there ain’t no I in team but you know there is a me!) (Sorry, I’m on a liiiiiittle bit of a TSwift kick right now...)  

THE STARE LIZ GIVES RI’CHARD WHEN HE STARTS MAKING REFERENCES TO SHOW HE GETS IT.  

“You have an idea, any idea. You want to scratch your ass? We talk, we discuss, we agree. And then you can move forward. Not before. You need to stop with this “better to ask forgiveness than permission” bullshit. Do you understand?” Ri’Chard nods. He might understand, but I’m not so sure he cares.  

How much does this man spend on glasses? Somewhat relatedly, Ri’Chard’s extensive eyewear collection is really making me want to have more than one pair of glasses.  

Ri’Chard invites Liz over for dinner so they can get to know each other. It’s not a bad idea. 

To have dinner, they’re going to skip the DNC fundraiser.  

Landau takes the stand.  

“How the fuck would you know that?” Marissa snaps in court when her legal skills are called into question. Great line reading from Sarah here.  

When Liz arrives at dinner, she ends up holding the gate open for a woman carrying a tray of pastries.  

Ri’Chard’s house is chaotic and full of children. Also women. It is a little weird. Sorry, did I say a little? I meant extremely.  

Liz ends up holding the tray of pastries, and a bunch of kids take sweets. All the adults tell Liz she shouldn’t be giving the kids so much sugar. She tries to stop the kids from taking more pastries, then gives up and is like, “you’re not my kids.” Hah.  

One of the women refers to Liz as Ri’Chard’s “work wife” which is a phrase I fucking loathe. Liz seems to hate it – or at least this application of it – as much as I do.  

“Is your house always this confusing?” Liz asks. Ri’Chard calls that phrasing diplomatic, and it really is.  

Ri’Chard saying he has trouble ending things and would never divorce in a house full of children and at least three non-Liz adult women is EXTREMELY weird and it is not made any less weird by them greeting each other with “Jesus is Lord.”  

I know it’s, like, obvious to say that Audra McDonald is really good at acting but I do need to stress that Audra McDonald is really good at acting. She’s playing the discomfort, shock, awkwardness, and growing comfort of being in someone else’s home really well. 

Those Moral Matters posters at this DNC event might be the most GOP looking stock art I have ever seen??? Also this is the same ballroom where the fundraiser in VIP Treatment was.  

Carmen gets to go to the DNC event because Carmen needs something to do so she can appear in the episode. Also, she seems to make the firm a fuckload of money so it makes sense she’d get an invite.  

Julius (why is he even at a DNC event?) tries to snark to Carmen about how silly Dems are and Carmen just looks at him like she’s considering what he’s said but also surprised by it... and like she has no intention of responding. This immediately makes him feel awkward and he turns away from her. 

Marissa’s there too, which doesn’t make sense in terms of her level at the firm but absolutely makes sense in terms of (1) all the partners love her and (2) her dad is Eli. 

Carmen and Marissa exchange a glance that shows there’s still tension there. This is the exact kind of moment this show too often forgets to include between episodes with major plot development. This episode nails the little character moments. This episode feels lived-in and complete.  

This “Hamilton Swings” act is an updated version of the stuff they parodied in 2x05 (of Wife!) and I fucking love it. Not so much the parody. I love the callback. I love that the writers almost certainly were like, that was so fun when we did it in 2010. Let’s do it again.  

Bettencourt is also at the DNC fundraiser. Small world. Diane spills her drink when she sees him. 

Diane’s dress in this episode looks a bit like her 2x05 dress, which I am sure was an intentional choice.  

At the bar, where Diane is cleaning off her dress, Bettencourt appears. He’s spotted Diane, too. She’s worried he’ll judge her for drinking. He doesn’t. 

She seems surprised when he remarks that he should’ve expected to run into her. Hmmm, now what about Diane Lockhart gives off rich liberal vibes? I wonder.  

Marissa appears at the bar next to Diane. “God, is this boring!” she exclaims, not at all concerned that Diane, who is her boss, is in the middle of a conversation. 

Marissa might be a little drunk. She greets Bettencourt, “Hello! Except I don’t know you, do I?” 

“Diane and I bumped into each other on a trip,” Bettencourt says to explain how they met. I bet he’s used this line before, given his line of work. Diane spits out her drink at that. 

Marissa leaves the bar to “stop my dad from killing someone,” a choice of words I’m sure she won’t regret.  

Diane asks Bettencourt if he takes his own treatment since he’s always so calm. Then his wife – I assume, he puts his hand on her back – arrives and ruins the moment for Diane.  

Eli and Landau argue at a DNC fundraiser, which is definitely a great look. But it won’t matter soon. Marissa tries to get Eli to stop, but Eli instead moves the conversation to the men’s room so Marissa won’t follow. Tbh I’m a little surprised she’d listen; Marissa does not seem like she’d give a shit about walking into the men’s room. 

On my first watch, I thought this scene felt like 4x18, where Peter punches Kresteva in the bathroom. What happens here is much less fun. 

And then someone enters the room and SHOOTS LANDAU IN THE HEAD THINKING HE IS ELI. He also says something anti-Semitic while he’s at it. I don’t remember what because I muted the scene looked away on rewatch because I found it quite upsetting. 

Three things here. First, I’ve seen a few theories that Eli ordered the hit on Landau and it was staged to look like Eli was the target. To that, I say... y’all are watching a different show. The assassin says Eli’s name and something anti-Semitic to let the rest of the episode unfold as it does. It's not necessarily illogical like some are saying -- this guy very easily could have an accomplice who said “Eli just went into the bathroom” and pointed and the guy with the gun didn’t recognize Eli, and they both could’ve been too stupid to have him study photos beforehand. Also, very hard to watch the emotional fallout and consequences this has for Eli through the rest of the episode and then go back to this hunting for the biggest twist.  

Second thing. It has taken me a while to get back to writing about this episode. Initially it was because I was busy, but now I’m avoiding it because it’s just TOUGH. When this aired, it felt a little too unsettling but like it belonged to a universe that was like ours but heightened... and now, with anti-Semitism in the news thanks to a certain rapper and the anniversary of the Tree of Life shooting tomorrow (I write this on 10/26), it’s just far too much for me to grapple with.  

Final thing. I am so glad the writers chose to kill Landau instead of Eli. Killing Eli would’ve been upsetting, but honestly not that much more upsetting than the introduction of violence into a universe where violence doesn’t tend to hit close to home (even considering the protest stuff this season, the number of horrifyingly traumatic moments over the course of both serieses is, like, three? Will, Adrian in season 2, this?). Plus, seeing Eli covered in blood and brains is horribly upsetting. Not only that, but killing Eli would’ve made the point and then... what? Made the rest of the show about Marissa’s grief? Felt like a decision made for shock value? I don’t see what the writers would’ve gained after the initial shock. This way, Landau is familiar enough it feels unsettling – the man’s been a frequent presence in this universe for over a decade – but not so beloved (not at all beloved tbh) that it’s impossible to do other things with the plot from here. The Eli and Marissa scenes that follow after this point are some of the best material I’ve seen from this show in ages – maybe some of the best material this show’s ever done.  

Liz and Ri’Chard are wrapping up their dinner when they get an active shooter alert. A very specific active shooter alert that says who the victim is? Weird. There’s a lockdown now, so Liz gets trapped at Ri’Chard’s. Shouldn’t they be calling all their employees and partners who are at the fundraiser!?  

Ok made about 4 mins of progress on this then saw Eli covered in blood and now I have to stop again. I’m not generally squeamish about TV violence (I simply look away if I don’t want to see it) but I can’t handle this. I don’t know what I would’ve done if I’d been writing these during season five of TGW. 

Now I’m thinking about Will.  

Fuck, I’m not sure I'm ever going to find another show I care this much about. I don’t know that I want to. But let me tell you: nothing has even come close.  

AND NOW I’M HAVING FEELINGS ABOUT THE SHOW ENDING.  

Ok lol now it’s 10/30 and I’m trying to power through.  

Marissa finds Eli sitting alone, in shock, covered in blood and brains. “Oh, it was so weird. I was right beside him. And this guy just came up behind us and said, ‘Die, you filthy Jew, Eli Gold.’ Eli Gold. He thought he was killing me.” “The world has gone crazy, Dad,” Marissa replies. “But Frank’s dead because of me. He’s not even Jewish. He's got three kids. And he’s, like, Presbyterian, something or other.” “I’m glad you’re alive, Dad,” is all Marissa can say to that.  

“What am I doing with my life?” Eli starts to wonder. He’s on this train of thought because he’s realized people hate him to the point where they want to kill him. This may be true but that man doesn’t want to kill Eli for anything Eli’s done. Which is what Marissa tells him.  

Eli doesn’t believe that, not fully. He’s thinking about all the bad things he’s done. I’ll come back to this when he talks to Diane, no use in saying the same thing twice.  

“I’ve got to change my life. I’ve got to stop,” Eli frets. “I’ve got to... confess.” Marissa does not like that. And then the cops interrupt to get Eli’s statement. I’m a little surprised Eli was able to get away. Isn’t every attendee being forced to stay where they are?  

Liz and Ri’Chard are now sitting on the floor drinking. I get that this conveys that the vibe is now relaxed and casual, but also, floors are not comfortable to sit on and sofas are. Liz finally works up the confidence to ask Ri’Chard which of the women floating around the house is his wife. Turns out he’s not married to any of them; his wife is dead. The women are her sister, her friend, his friend, and a college dropout.  

He says he “collects female energy” which is maybe the creepiest thing I’ve ever heard. But for those of us who lived through the days of “male energy” and how we had to have Finn Polmar on the show to fill the void of “male energy” left by Will... it’s pretty nice to hear that “female energy” also exists.  

“Watch out. Women have dinner here and never leave,” he jokes to Liz. Uh.  

Liz turns the conversation to work; asks why Ri’Chard is in this. He wants “power, respect, and independence.” This is where my being several episodes ahead changes my take, because you KNOW the first time through this episode, I was like, “how can you be independent when STR Laurie owns you?!” 

He flips the question around to Liz, but doesn’t let her answer, instead guessing that she’s in it for her father’s legacy. Liz says no; she always wanted to be the opposite of her father (and it was here I started to realize there’s a father-daughter throughline in this episode; again, this episode is very well done). This does not explain how Liz came to be running her father’s firm, but of course we know how that happened – she was pushed out at the DOJ and needed a place to land, and then inertia took over.  

“That’s what makes you hot!” Ri’Chard says, and Liz just laughs and points to this as an example of Ri’Chard having no idea when to stop. It is a very good example of Ri’Chard not knowing when to stop; that’s not the vibe here and so it feels weird when he makes it the vibe.  

Ri’Chard then segues into a story about when he was just starting out and a firm made a laughing stock out of him for being dressed the wrong way. And then Ri’Chard remade his image and got stronger.  

$900 on wine. Still amazes me that people actually drink $900 wine. I had a bottle of $25 wine last night and felt fancy. 

The all-clear goes out and Liz heads home. I hope she’s not driving...? They’ve been drinking a lot.  

Diane’s home, still in her party clothes. Kurt’s comforting her. “Nothing seems real right now,” she remarks as she watches the news. Diane starts talking about the “connection between love and death” inspired by a conversation with Bettencourt (which we annoyingly have to get silent flashbacks of). This leads to Diane making a reference to a piece of art and Kurt not getting it, and then Diane realizing he doesn’t get her references. Kurt handles this well: “Diane, I think you’re asking me questions that you know I don’t know the answer to. And I’m not sure why. I’m not here for a literature test. I’m here because I love you. You know who I am. You know what I’m good at. What I care about.” Very fair. If Diane wants someone who understands all her references, Kurt will never be that person, and it’s not fair to Kurt for Diane to hold that against him. She can say his political beliefs are too much or that she’s realized she wants something different, but she can’t just wish Kurt was a different person and expect him to change. 

She then asks Kurt if he loves her, which is so weird??? He says yes, she smiles, they kiss.  

“Have I passed the test?” he asks. Diane says yes, but it seems like this is going to keep coming back.  

In court the next day, opposing counsel is quick to suggest Eli had Landau killed to get himself off the hook. Yeah, no. “Excuse me, what the fuck?!” is Marissa’s response. Despite her passions, the judge rules that she has to testify.  

Ri’Chard and Liz solve the problem of the equity partners not getting the money they’re entitled to by giving up some of their bonuses. HANG ON. THIS IS THE MOST OBVIOUS SOLUTION. WHY WAS LIZ COLLECTING A BONUS WHEN HER PARTNERS WEREN’T GETTING THEIR MONEY? And why is Ri’Chard getting a bonus he’s been there like 2 seconds where did the money for that come from?  

Also, am I meant to believe Liz had any hand in this idea or not? If I am supposed to believe Liz as a manager I do need to see that she’s making progress on this front, because it feels to me like Ri’Chard came in, was correct, won Liz over, and won the battle but gave her credit. I’m missing the “teamwork” scene from this narrative. 

If there are burning cars and massive protests in the street, and the lobby is blocked off, WHY HAS THIS OFFICE NOT YET SENT EVERYONE HOME?  

Turns out that the lawyer who humiliated Ri’Chard is Liz’s dad. Obviously. So are we in Do Revenge now?  

Liz is looking at a picture of her dad when Marissa knocks on her door and asks if she has a minute. You know it’s serious because this is the first time Marissa’s ever asked for permission for anything. Liz tries to push it off til tomorrow; Marissa explains the urgency.  

What Marissa wants from Liz isn’t really advice – it's to know about her relationship with her dad. I fucking love that they’re drawing this parallel and exploring this topic. Even though what Liz’s dad did and what Eli did are very different types of crimes, the situations Liz and Marissa are in because of their fathers’ actions are similar, and I love that the show acknowledges this and gives it a moment. They very easily could’ve had Marissa’s plot exist in a vacuum; instead, they tie it to a loose end from season 3. Really smart, character-focused writing.  

Marissa specifically wants to know if Liz ever opened the folder of evidence against her father that Marissa compiled back in s3. Liz is hesitant to answer at first, wondering how this will help Marissa. Marissa isn’t sure, and that’s enough for Liz to decide to open up: she did not ever look at the file. Marissa takes that in.  

At the office, Eli stares out the window watching the protests. “You look lost,” Diane comments when she sees him. 

Diane asks if Eli has any protection. He does, for a few days. “It feels weird. I’m a mechanic. I’m not a public figure,” Eli notes. “We’re all public figures now,” Diane says. I’m not sure what’s making her say this oh wait actually yes she has plenty of evidence to say this now I’m remembering Mr. Elk and the Diane/Liz love affair rumors from last season. 

Diane pours Eli a drink. “Was there a better time, or has it always been like this?” Eli asks. “I don’t know. Whenever I’m smack-dab in the middle of the time, I always think it’s the worst time, and then five years later, I think, ‘huh, that was a pretty good time.’” Eek.  

“I fell apart today,” Eli confesses. “Well, that makes sense. A person was murdered right beside you,” Diane responds. “And they thought they were murdering me,” Eli continues. “Yeah, so how could you not fall apart?” 

“I’ve been wondering how much I’ve been contributing to all this. Turning the opposition into the enemy, turning the enemy into psychopaths...” Eli wonders. I would say maybe he’s played some role, but I don’t think he’s the problem here. Neither does Diane.  

“How do we get out of this? They’re shouting, so do we just shout louder?” Eli wonders. “I don’t know, but if we don’t shout back, they’ll win,” says Diane, who’s been blissfully walking through protests carrying flowers all season.  

Diane suggests that Eli finish his drink, pull himself together, and “go out there and kick some ass.” She does not seem at all concerned by the fact he’s done something illegal, which to me is the most interesting part about this scene. But before I get there... 

“This country is worth fighting for; it always was. And our enemies want to stop voting from happening. That’s not just galling, that’s the end of America. And we can’t let that happen.” okay that’s all well and good Diane but do you not remember when you yourself tried to rig an election, or the time when you yourself defended Eli for rigging an election? 

“Where do you find your optimism?” Eli wonders. “In a hallucinogenic drug called PT-108,” Diane responds. I love it. Eli thinks she’s joking. 

“Eli, I need you to fight the good fight,” Diane says, SAYING THE SHOW TITLE ON THE SHOW!!!!! 

“I need to know that there is someone out there who can quarterback the game. Because I know our politicians aren’t up to it. It has to be you. The person behind the scene. I’m sorry, if you want me to contribute to your bodyguards, I will, but you have to get back in the fight.” This is a very good pep talk for someone like Eli. It’s also fascinating to me. No one is talking about the illegal thing Eli did. No one seems to care. It was in the pursuit of a goal they all shared and so it’s understandable; everyone’s only furious that it got discovered or that it implicated them personally. No one is really mad about what happened. Eli almost certainly arranged the hacking of a major media outlet, and everyone’s just cool with it. What does that say about our times, about good, about morality, and about how deep this conflict runs?  

Marissa listens in on this conversation and decides that Diane’s right. 

Dr. Bettencourt isn’t at his office the next day; the woman he was with is Diane’s doctor for the day instead. She is not happy about it. The way she says “no” when she’s offered cucumber water has so much sadness and pettiness in it. 

Marissa dances around the truth on the stand. She makes Eli out to be a bumbling old man, unable to figure out the internet. Eli, who knew how to find Becca-the-Twitter-Troll in early 2010. Sure. I feel like you could very easily poke a hole in Marissa’s testimony. (She says she hasn’t helped Eli “use” the software in question, which is true. She just got him a copy.)  

Marissa takes a little bit of a victory lap on the stand, drawing a parallel between Landau jumping to conclusions about Marissa colluding with Eli for the hack and opposing counsel jumping to conclusions about Marissa’s spot on the legal team. Marissa is only on the legal team because of a failed attempt to keep her from testifying, but that doesn’t really matter. 

So if these protesters are just chanting anti-Semitic shit... can we stop pretending that there are protesters on both sides? Like, I suppose they could still want me to believe this is like a war of protesters, but this is preeeeeeetty clearly coming from one side. 

Eli decides to head to DC right away and jump back into work. Marissa asks him to stay another night and have dinner; he says no and jokes they might shoot her, thinking she’s Eli. LOL, dark. 

Gotta say, watching this scene slowly play out the first time with the chanting in the background sent my stress levels through the roof. I was like, THERE’S STILL TIME TO KILL OFF ELI YET.  

Eli says that Marissa’s mom had to talk him into having a kid. Marissa already knew that. “I’m glad she did,” Eli says. “You’re my greatest achievement,” he adds.  

Eli never really got an ending on TGW, so to see him getting one that feels so final – all this talk about goodbye, the car driving away – makes me really emotional.  

Speaking of emotional, watching Marissa recite a prayer as Eli drives away REALLY got to me. After so many years, I feel so connected to these characters. Even in this heightened, surreal universe, this moment felt real. It made me feel how far we’ve come from the biggest problem in Marissa’s life being that her dad wants to date a grad student to here. It made the stakes feel higher for the whole rest of the season while also giving some finality (for the viewers, hopefully not for Marissa!) to the Eli/Marissa relationship. There weren’t many TGW cameos I needed on TGW (depending on how it goes, I might be actively mad if the last two episodes have Alicia – my friends who have had the misfortune of reminding me about Ghost Will on TGW know that I’m still mad enough about that I will send them a 30-message long rant about that choice) but Eli was one of the few that I hoped to see eventually because of his ties to Marissa. Having Eli back for 2 episodes – 1 for fun and 1 for something serious – really, really worked for the show.  

[nevarrhoe]

mea culpa (m.m) - five

SUMMARY: “mea culpa” (exclamation - noun/legal term)

used as an acknowledgement of one’s fault or error.

↪ in which matt murdock accidentally falls in love with the district attorney’s daughter. (masterlist + playlist)

warnings: afab reader/fem pronouns, age gap, swearing, semi-public sex, unprotected sex, p in v (because i have finally given u smut after several parts without <3)

MINORS DNI - this has been clearly marked as having explicit content and with these clear warnings in place, you are reading this whilst being aware of said content

apologies again for the massive gap between parts! i genuinely have no excuse lmao aside from the fact i was depressed and working lots. enjoy xx

-jazz xx

It didn’t take long to get used to life without Matthew Murdock.

He’d been important to you and then he wasn’t. People came and went all the time - you had ex-boyfriends and ex-best friends and a multitude of relationships that had been significant until they weren’t. You wouldn’t go as far as calling Matt your boyfriend but that didn’t erase the fact there had been a connection. That was what you missed most: having somebody who got you the way he did. And it was funny, because the string of insults he’d thrown your way during your last conversation proved him to be everything but someone who understood you. It had been a weak moment for you both and maybe if there had been more at stake - if you’d been the same age, or things were more serious, or your lives more intertwined then you could have moved on from it. That was just it though: it was just a fling. And it had to end eventually. 

Two weeks later, you’d fallen back into your natural routine of shopping and drinking and enjoying a privileged existence. Now, however, you were spending more time at the office: not necessarily helping your father, but just running errands and doing paperwork. You told yourself over and over that it wasn’t anything to do with what Matt had said. Say it a few more times and maybe you’d start to believe it. 

“So Harrison is single again,” your best friend’s voice filled the void of your father’s office. She was sat on the edge of your desk, filing her nails whilst you did your paperwork. “His ex-girlfriend cheated on him so he’s selling his place in London and moving back here. I can give him your number if you want.”

You tried not to visibility flinch at the mere thought. Even though your affair with Matt had proved to be anything but successful, the idea of ever going back to a guy your own age was a little too much. What was the point? They were all immature, trust fund babies who couldn’t fuck properly and definitely wouldn’t treat you right. And you weren’t looking for commitment - not at that point in your life. You just needed someone who could make you laugh and make you orgasm. That had seemed impossible to find. At least until Matt.

“Mmm,” you hummed. “No, I’m good. Harrison and I never really got on that well.”

“Oh, come on!” she groaned. “He’s hurting right now so you know he’ll probably put out-”

“- I’m not interested!” you cut her off. “I’m just not really looking for anything right now. I wanna focus on work.”

“Doing paperwork for free at your dad’s office doesn’t count as work,” she huffed. 

“Yeah, whatever,” you muttered. “I have an appointment now anyways, so if you could make yourself scarce I would really appreciate it.”

“Fiiiine,” she grumbled. “Are you coming to cocktails tonight at the Rainbow Room?”

“I’ll see.”

She stood up and sauntered out of the room - just in time, actually, because your 4PM appointment was waiting right outside. You tried not to visibly react to seeing Matt; somehow, you’d avoided crossing paths with him around the courthouse thus far. It was bound to happen eventually but you felt a lot worse about it than you initially thought. 

“Mr Murdock,” you greeted him, holding your professionalism until the door was closed and your friend was out of earshot. When she was, you faltered slightly. He had a strong presence after all. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” Matt took a deep breath, putting aside his cane. 

“Look, Matthew, I can reschedule this appointment when my father’s back in town, or when his assistant can take it instead-”

“- I scheduled it for today on purpose, actually,” he admitted. “I wanted to talk to you.”

You scowled. “And did you consider that maybe I don’t want to talk to you?”

“Yeah, that was definitely a possibility I thought about,” he said. “But you are talking to me, so that gives me hope.”

You paused for a second - Matt did have a point. If you truly hated him, you probably would have ignored him from the get-go. You were furious with the man, without a doubt, but some part of you still held onto the way he’d made you feel before the fuck up. He’d said all those things in the heat of the moment, but you couldn’t shake the fact he still said them. 

“I’m getting on with my life,” you said. “I’m over it. You should do the same.”

“I tried,” Matt replied. “I already regretted the things I said-”

“- why?” you cut him off. “You had a point, Matt. I’m a spoilt little rich girl and you’re a working class lawyer. We’ll never see eye to eye or understand each other. No amount of good fucking will change that.”

He hesitated for a second. “I think you’re wrong.”

“Oh?”

“You were right about the Thompson case, though,” he admitted. “The defendant changed his plea last week.”

“Right,” you murmured. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Yeah, me too,” he shrugged. “I’m more sorry about the things I said, though. I take my job very seriously and there are times where it gets in the way of other important things - more important things.”

“I’m a girl you slept with a few times. I wouldn’t hold myself in that high regard.”

He gave you a small smile. “You should - I’m not here to declare my love for you or ask for your hand in marriage but I didn’t realise til you weren’t in my life that you meant more to me than a silly argument.”

“I do?’

“You do,” Matt replied. “All those things I said…none of them matter. I might be right, I might not be, but even if you’re the most spoiled, aloof rich girl in this city, you’re the girl I’d choose over any other.”

You stood up and crossed over to where Matt was stood - he reached out for you as you met halfway, large hands taking your waist as you crashed your lips against his. You’d missed his palms; they were calloused and rough and rugged but fuck, they held you so well. Same for his lips. He bit them when he was anxious so they were always a little indurated but they felt right against yours. 

After that little speech of his, things felt a little more…intense. It had just been a fling before but now it felt like something more.

“You sure do how to sweet talk a girl into forgiving you, huh?” you murmured against him. 

“I really don’t,” Matt replied, and you felt his chest shake slightly as he chuckled. “I practiced that speech like fifty times on the way over here.”

“It worked,” you smiled. Taking a step back, you locked the office door and then tangled your hands with Matt’s, leading him over to the sofa on the other side of the room. “But I think we should talk things through a little bit.”

Matt took a seat opposite you. “Yeah, of course.”

“We need to set boundaries,” you explained. “We’re very different people and I just…I need to know that we can deal with those differences if they come up again, you know? We can’t argue it out every time and now that we’ve established this is a little more than a one night stand-”

“- you don’t have to decide what it is yet,” he cut you off. “I know things are different for you - you’re younger and your entire life is different from mine. When you do know, you just say, okay?”

You smiled and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “Of course, I appreciate that.”

“And I know that we’re different,” Matt said. “I like that about us. If it does come up again, we’ll dealt with it. Not like the first time we dealt with it, but we will.”

He pulled you into another kiss; this one was a little deeper, a little more passionate. There was no guesses on where it was leading, and you had to quickly remind yourself that you were still in your father’s office. Not that you hadn’t fantasised about this multiple times. You weren’t opposed to it - not by any means - but you worried Matt might have his reservations about getting off in such a public place.

You almost said something, but when he grabbed you by the hips and pulled you onto his lap, any worries quickly dissipated. Previously, neither of you had worked this fast. There was normally build up - a bit of teasing and fliritng, even if you both knew where it was going to go - but after two of nothing, neither of you cared much for foreplay (in both a literal and metaphorical sense). 

Matt pushed you back onto the sofa so you were laying flat, attaching his lips to your neck. You almost let out a moan, until he clamped a large hand over your mouth. Thinking ahead, as always. He didn’t waste any more time in taking off your blouse and skirt. He was a little more careful than usual, being aware that you’d have to put them back on after.  That didn’t stop him throwing them across the room. There was a little more fumbling and finally his shirt came off too. 

“Matt,” you murmured. “Those marks on your chest-”

“- they’re nothing,” he growled. 

“Matt.”

The lawyer huffed - he wasn’t about to get cockblocked after two weeks of not seeing you. 

“I fell,” Matt muttered. “I was drunk and I fell. Will you take that story?”

“I will take it simply for the sake of the fact your boner is pressing against my thigh,” you replied. “But I’ll have questions later-”

“- works with me.”

He went back to work, lips on your neck, then collarbone, and chest, and then your neck again. The marks he’d left on you after your last fuck had faded and he was determined to leave more. He was still careful though, making sure they were in places no-one else would see. If you went into this meeting with no visible hickeys, you’d have to leave without them. Y’know, for continuity. 

You moved your hands down, fiddling with the buckle on his belt until it came loose and you were able to reach a hand down and brush it over his dick. He shivered when you did: even though he had the feeling of you memorised - your hands, your mouth, everything - it was still something he had craved over the last few weeks. 

Matt grabbed you again, and you let out a squeak as he flipped you over. He was underneath now - you still in control no doubt, with one hand on your throat and the other on your ass - with you on top. That had become one of his favourite positions. It gave him easy access to everything. 

Placing both his hands on your ass cheeks, he pulled you forward and slipped inside you. It took you a minute to revel on the feeling: after all, this time an hour ago, you weren’t sure you would ever feel this good again. And some petty part of you still wanted to punish Matt, so you held out on moving for as long as you could. It was easy enough until he grabbed you by the throat again, pulling you towards him so that your foreheads were pushed together.

“Ride,” he demanded. 

You did as he said, moving your hips back and forth. Your groans were simultaneously, but both surpressed given the…envrionment. Normally, you were noisy as fuck and Matt would encourage it. At the moment, you couldn’t work out if him squeezing your throat every time you let out a groan was praise or punishment. Either was fine. 

Matt’s free hand moved about, sometimes on your ass, sometimes on your tits, and ever so often lingering on your clit. If he’d had more time, he would have teased you more but given the noise and time constraint, he kept it simple. That was funny to you, because his idea of simple was still a thousand times more mindblowing than any other man you’d ever been with.

He hit the right spot over and over and it wasn’t long until you could feel something building up in the pit of your stomach. That might have been a new record. You could barely think straight as you rode him, hands leaving bright red scratches up and down his toned arms. It was only egging him on.

Even when your high hit you, completely disabling your ability to think and ripping through your frontal lobe like a bucket of cold fucking water, Matt kept going. He wasn’t far off, and the load moan you let out when you came brought him even closer. 

“You need to be quiet,” he teased, hand squeezing your throat as you let out another groan. 

Matt followed not long after you. Rather than covering his mouth, he buried his head in your shoulder, teeth pinching at your bare skin as he let out a low grunt. You tangled a hand in his hair, arm wrapping around his neck to bring him up into a kiss. 

“You’re amazing,” he murmured. “Is it safe to say that we’re all good?”

“Yeah,” you replied. “You’re forgiven.”

[keisins]

—✥ SEVEN HEADED SNAKE, WHAT YOU CALL THAT? BLEEDING LIKE AN OPEN SCAR.

pairing. assassin!nanami kento x assassin!f!reader warnings. smut(18+), slight angst overview. *this plot was actually inspired from the amazing @sukirichi , ty for letting me use the idea from your drabble!* your divorce with nanami gets finalized, but why does it feel like your relationship is just beginning?

[ SERIES MASTERLIST ]

It’s an end.

“Alright, all done. You’re free to go. Thank you.”

You try not to look at the man that’s sitting across from you in this sweltering, closed up space of an attorney office. The papers you both inked your signatures on are slid into a safe kept portfolio that you will get a copy of soon enough, for confirmation.

Confirmation of a love that never really existed in the first place.

The white haired lawyer of your now ex-husband huffs a grin as he extends a hand to you. “I think a congratulations is in order.”

His wolf-like smile is a harsh reminder of how this was all your idea. A humiliating blush threatens to creep up your face before Nanami makes his first comment in the past five loudly silent minutes.

“You’re so unnecessary.” He murmurs as Gojou Satoru shakes your hand enthusiastically. It seems that a lot of things amuse the man. Especially, the person next to you.

Getou stares at the hand placed in front him and the same obnoxious grin you had just endured.

“Till next time, Suguru?”

The informality catches you a little off guard, but your “attorney” only gives a serene smile back and takes the hand. “Yes. See you, Satoru.”

Nanami gives you one last look and you a thin smile before nodding and making his way out. Gojou follows suit.

Getou sighs and drops the portfolio onto the hardwood table. “Well, now that’s done. We can finally start our mission, huh?”

You hum, slumping back into the wooden chair.

It’s a beginning.

“Got eyes on the target yet?”

Ah, those words never get old, do they? Nanami stares into the optic as he shifts his hold on the air soft rifle to search. He wants to get this over with— it’s been a long fucking week— and it never helps to have Gojo in his ear every minute gone by. Before Gojo can speak again, Nanami finally settles in a perfect spot.

The man fits every detail description. But, like clockwork, he needs to verify. “Seated at the bar, right?”

He hears the confirmation and his finger goes to the trigger until a figure comes up. It blocks the shot, but it’s quite the view anyway. It’s you. Wait— why were you here? His ex-wife; an acquaintance that agreed to marry him to both of your guy’s parents off your back, the one who always waited for him coming home from work (which ever one that may be; the office job or a sniper) and never complained until, well, this week.

He couldn’t deny you the request. He kind of owed it to you, to be honest. You were a kind woman with a job in retail, right? You were a good wife— loyal and patient, right? You were perfect on paper. Almost too perfect.

“Woah,” he hears Gojo chuckle in amusement and astonishment. “What is your ex-wife doing here, Nanami!”

“I-“ Nanami continues to observe the situation unfolding. You look good. Beautiful. Stunning. Like you belong in the elite society. He hasn’t seen you like this ever. Even when you two got married in that dull city courthouse. He clears his throat. “I don’t know.”

Then, he sees you turn, and you look straight at him through the glass circle. The corners of your lips turn up into the tiniest, sly smile before the back of your head is seen again.

What the fuck just happened? What is going on? It’s all that can go through Nanami’s head at the moment.

This kind of sucks, is all you’re thinking as the target of yours blabbers on about whatever. You could have seen yourself falling in love with Nanami Kento. If only he hadn’t been so stubborn about going to work and saying how dangerous it is there. What was so dangerous about transferring numbers in for some company, you used to think. But, now that he’s after your same target, you understood.

“Gotta give it to you, he’s even scarier now that I know he’s a sniper.” Mahito chuckles through your ear piece. “You know we have to kill him now right?”

You surprise yourself when you shudder at the thought. You hear Geto chastise him in response for you. “She’s kind of busy to be worrying about that right now.” Geto reminds you for what seems like the millionth time that night. “Focus on the target,” he tells you.

Right. Lure him in. Get the portfolio. Kill him. It’s been done before. An easy procedure. If only your ex-husband wasn’t a building away with a sniper in hand. You’re about to secure part of the mission— seduce the man back to his hotel room where the portfolio lies in a safe—when your phone rings.

You don’t know why you agree, but you end up in a luxurious hotel room drinking red wine with your ex-husband as you tell him the whole truth. And he tells you his. It’s too much to take in. It feels unreal.

“So, what now?”

He shrugs and takes another sip of his drink. And he looks so hot, with his chiseled jawline and high cheekbones. And those hands—

Without any thought, you pull on his tie and your lips land on his. Nanami realized he hasn’t touched you intimately in almost a year. He forgot how good it felt. Right now, you taste like wine. He gets a drip of it off your tongue when it brushes against his. And he decides he’ll let you do whatever you want to him. He’s tired. Tired of having to chase you when you were already his all this time.

He doesn’t know you feel the same way. That you’d kill yourself before killing him. So, you counter your rough kisses with your gentle touches along his rugged arms. You make your way to his buttons. You manage to pop two undone when you pull apart from him. Both your lips wet and swollen.

“You aren’t stopping me?”

With the way you’re looking at him and the way he’s looking at you, there’s no way either of you could really pull out of the lustful ambience. And Nanami’s thinking to himself— this was your wife and you haven’t thought of fucking her until now? Where the hell was your head this past year? Why hadn’t you ever come home on time?

The answer all laid upon this stupid job, but this stupid job got him in the position he was in now. And he’s always been logical— backing out on missions that involved higher tiered competition, making sure a bullet would bounce off a target a certain way to trick investigators— but if he needs to let loose and give up all inhibitions to spend this whole night with you, he will.

Who cares if your teams were probably biting each other’s head off at the moment?

You’re searching for an answer in his natural stony gaze before he abruptly moves to stand, causing you to fall backwards towards the hotel bed with an oomf. He’s towering over you with the slightest smug smile when he sees your flustered appearance taking in the muscular body that unfolds as he unbuttons the shirt.

“No. Should I?”

You shake your head no, enveloping your arms around his now bare neck. Please don’t ever, you want to say. Your lips crash again and there’s more of a soft passion to these kisses. He tries not to awe at the falling thin straps on your shoulders giving up so much skin, a lot more skin than he has ever got to see. And he merely thanks God that you’ve begun to unbuckle his pants because he could probably spend a little bit too long admiring your body.

You use this as a chance to turn him over so that you’re on top. Your lips meet his again as you grab his unsurprising large length and rush to put it inside you. You whine at the stretch and Nanami can’t help but feel a little bit pleased at the fact that you, whom is usually so calm and cold, unraveling before him.

“Kento.” You unintentionally whimper. You’re too occupied to be embarrassed as you grind and ride him. He’s taken aback by how hot and silky and wet you are. All for him?

“Fuck.” He’s not exactly holding back either. He’s groaning and grunting against the skin of your neck. Feeling you convulsing around him, he takes back his control as he fucks you through your first high that night.

You wake up to overlapping, obnoxious ringing sounds. You don’t have to look to know who’s calling you at this hour. It’s not like you want to answer anyway. There’s a ridiculously hot man in bed naked next to you.

“Are you going to answer?” His voice is gruff, raspy and you think you want to wake up to it every single fucking day. You throw your phone carelessly to the other end of the room, ignoring the sound it makes when it cracks and you lean over on top of him. The sunlight that’s breaking through the window hits your face so delicately, so gently. You’re beautiful, he wants to say. But he doesn’t, so you settle with the small smirk he has on.

“No. It’s nothing important,” you tell him before you indulge in more and more of whatever he can give you. And if that ends, you don’t really care— at least it started with Nanami Kento.

[yellowocaballero]

feel free to answer whatever you want, since some of this ties to possible future development for 'marc goes on wellbutrin'. also sorry, i was never great at reading comprehension.

Marc and Jake have that nice reconciliatory conversation at the end of 'Good Luck Jake'. But when Marc surfaces at the end of story, he doesn't remember anything that happened while he was in the headspace-- either the conversation he had with Jake, or what he learned going back through Jake's memories. So where's his new opinion on Jake coming from? Subconscious influence? Does any of the character growth that either had from that conversation carry over to real life?

Is Jake supposed to be less of a bully (like puttin' Steven in a box, tormenting Marc) by the end of the story? Has he given up trying to take over because being a more fully-realized person has given him some measure of empathy, or because literally everyone has (and had always) seen through his plan?

When Jake kisses Layla while pretending to be Steven, there's a line could imply that Steven sees what's going on and is surprised by it.("Jake? Jake! Holy - ") Was that your intention?

“Hello hello! Awfully good to see you in better circumstances, Luke, I am truly sorry about that business yesterday. I was stoned on sadness, as one might say.” Is that supposed to actually be Steven, or Jake doing a poor impression of him? Or just them speaking differently outside the headspace?

"He made every deal under the sun with Khonshu to keep his eye away from Matt or Misty, and if they hated him for it then they hated him for it." What does this one mean? Does Khonshu want them as avatars or want them dead (for vengeance reasons)?

"If both sides of his life thought he was some crazy serial killer who murdered all day, then that would keep them safe from each other." It's clear how both sides thinking Jake is a serial killer without any other life keeps them separate, but what exactly is each side being protected from? I can see one half (Jake plays serial killer, preemptively warns the Heroes for Hire that he could be a threat to them because of his obligations as avatar of Khonshu) but not the other (Jake plays serial killer, pretends his friends don't exist because fuck you dad, protects Marc and Steven from what exactly?).

SHIELD has Moon Knight on a list, but what's their stance on the Ennead that's employing (sorta arguably enslaving) them? Do they have to go to war with the ancient Egyptian pantheon now? They know where the courthouse is and so implicitly where a lot of extrajudicial murder is going down. Is that not an issue, or just not the focus of the story?

Do Marc or Steven enjoy any portion of their job as Moon Knight, or is it just an involuntary commitment?

oh god this is long. okay, one last one --

When Steven reads a book in the headspace, how the hell does that work? Or is everything just metaphors there.

OH BOY. You're fine - a lot of this stuff was implied or never stated outright. Thankfully most of these have pretty straightforward answers so hopefully this isn't a huge essay jlksadf.

Subconscious influence. They don't always remember everything that happens in the mindscape but they get the gist. If emotional work is done, then they keep the emotional work and the character work is kept. For example, when Steven wakes up at Layla's after the breakdown he doesn't remember the entire conversation he and Jake had. When they are in the mindscape they remember everything, including previous mindscape conversations. They're like dreams. The outcome of that final conversation was acceptance, and you can tell it stuck because of how Jake-ey Marc acts once he wakes up. He's also internalized a lot of Jake's own character development.

I think Jake matured. I can't speak for how Jake begins to act after the story, but I think we can draw conclusions by the fact that Jake rises and vacates his seat (his friends, his life), and encourages Marc to go take his place. Maturation doesn't mean losing every bad character trait or habit, but it probably does mean that he's stepped up into a healthier caretaking role for Marc than tormenting him. Also yes he just wasn't successful in general and it was humbling lmfao.

Yes! He was drawing more on Steven, so Steven got closer. Hence his sudden distaste for Guinness.

It's Steven, he's just being goofy and British. But it's a very stark example of how differently he speaks outside of the mindspace, right?

I mention during the flashback with Matt that Khonshu thinks he'd make a good Avatar. We know from Layla that Khonshu will absolutely threaten to bird-kidnap your loved ones. I never state outright that Khonshu's threatened to turn his sights on Matt or Misty (who just has a very similar justice themed personality to Matt and Marc, something about the letter M makes you insane), mainly because Khonshu hasn't exactly done it, but Jake basically lives in fear of it. If you watch Jake insisting a billion times that he's not REALLY a member of the team and that they shouldn't trust him, it's half because Jake knows he can be forced to hurt them and half because he knows that they can be used to force him to hurt others. Again, unstated, but it shows in Jake's behavior.

If I'm interpreting your question right, then I meant that he thinks Marc would ruin Jake's life and his friends if he ever got ahold of it and met his friends - there's a line about this in Mens Rea in the cab scene with Luke. As for what he's protecting Marc and Steven from - some level of Jake (cough Marc) thinks of himself as toxic, and doesn't want them around the serial killing. That's less clear, I probably should have stated that one.

Not the focus of the story. Funnily enough, the rough draft was about that, and then I decided it was a distraction from the actual important bits of the story.

I think Marc likes the bits that are not murder, and Steven likes helping people. Marc has a craving for vengeance and justice too, and I think he's kind of like Matt where he has A Need For Punch. Steven hates violence but he wants justice too - I mention that Steven LOVES the karmic punishments for the bad guys lol. Remember the courthouse was Steven's idea. The main issue for Marc is the killing & Khonshu. That being said, if Marc can get his Justice kicks in through arresting nasties and karmic justice too he is very happy. He doesn't Moon Knight for fun, though.

Same way Marc watches TV.

[missyasf]

Game Of Hearts

| 3 |  

↳ Summary: Your life is in monotonous tones of grey, day in, day out. Nothing matters besides your sister, the only thing you remember is seeing fireworks before waking up to Tokyo abandoned . Soon enough you are properly introduced to the deadly Borderlands where you must fight for your life in Games to survive. When things can’t possibly get worse soon division arises and rivalries are made. No matter what though, you are constantly plagued by a blonde who, no matter how hard you try, just can’t seem to go too far without.

↳ Pairing: Chishiya/Reader

↳ Genre: Angst, smut, thriller

Word Count: 9.5k

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Trigger Warning: ⚠️ much like the manga/Netflix adaptation this will be a dark fic which includes mentions of prostitution, attempted murder, child ab*se, sexual harassment, heavy grief and attempted suic*de among other things. Additional warnings will be added for chapters when triggers are brought up. Please read with caution if these are triggers for you or just skip all together! 

3rd Day Sojourn 

“Looks like we got a smartass here don’t we?” 

You felt torn on whether to intervene or not. Chishiya, was by no means a hero or a prince charming. You didn’t need to know him to know he was going to be the last person to save you out of good will. Not like you needed saving regardless but you couldn’t help but wonder what his motive was. 

Chishiya still had that cold smirk on his face, as if extremely amused at the furious Niragi you had held him up by the jacket, even face to face he not once had a change in expression, as if he just genuinely didn’t care about whatever Niragi felt. 

“Probably because I am smarter than you.” Chishiya lifted his chin a little a devious icy smile on his lips like he was getting a rise out of the way Niragi simmered and growled at him, his hands tightening around his jacket and you were briefly worried if Chishiya didn’t shut up that he was going to be beat into a pulp. No matter how smart he was, he couldn’t outwit his way from getting throat punched. Although...you wouldn’t deny a secret part of you would find that mildly funny. You also wanted to throat punch him on certain occasions. 

“I believe that’s enough Niragi.” Everyone paused at the sight of someone new arriving, Ryu had gotten out of the pool to stand next to you and Hiroko as he whispered, “That’s number three, Kuzuryuu. He often keeps everyone in their place when Hatter isn’t around.” 

Niragi stuck his tongue as he began to cackle, letting go of Chishiya. Breathing in relief you relaxed a little as everyone did the same. Just within a split second though you could hardly comprehend the sight of Niragi immediately decking Chishiya right across the jaw who was knocked off balance. People were already intervening as you stood there gaping. You didn’t think Niragi would actually punch him. 

You had thought Chishiya’s expression would’ve changed but much to your disbelief it was as if he was even more settled into his resolve, grabbing his jaw as a viscous smile appeared on his lips, spitting out blood as he goaded, “So you agree then? Anyone with half a brain would be able to reply instead of resort to violence.” 

Did this man really wanna die on his first day in the Beach? 

Niragi was pulled away and back to his group with steam practically pouring out of his ears, attempting to get back to Chishiya before he was yanked back by perhaps the most physically intimidating man you had ever seen, “That’s number 2, Agni, the leader of the militant sect.” Hiroko clarified to you but it fell on deaf ears as you hurried over to Chishiya, now feeling immensely bad that regardless of his intentions he was hurt for what? Gloating? Was his ego truly that big, “God are you insane!?” You cried out in a whisper kneeling down, your maternal instincts on overdrive as you grabbed his face immediately checking for any bruising. 

Chishiya almost like a cat that didn’t want to be touched pulled away from your grip unappreciative, “I don’t like annoying or stupid people.” He replied immediately, his eyes leering ungratefully, “And he was ruining a perfectly good day for me. If you think I’d care for someone like you then you’re more delusional then you look. Besides it’s just blood, it’ll go stop.” 

Ouch.

You rolled your eyes at him deciding to not take his words to heart though a tiny part of you wondered if he only said that due to the conversation you both had last night. Or maybe he just really didn’t care. Regardless it didn’t matter, “He had a fucking rifle!” You whispered angrily, “I get it, we aren’t best friends but I don’t wanna see you get shot you asshole.” 

“We aren’t friends at all,” Chishiya replied coolly, his eyes analytical and calculating, his gaze like ice that glared you down as if you were his new target for a reason unknown, “We aren’t even acquaintances. We’re just strangers and I’d prefer to keep it that way. I don’t need your concern or care, so stay out of my way.” 

You felt thoroughly indignant at his words as you clenched your jaw, “You know what? I doubt you’ve ever had anyone care for you and I can see why. I hope he hits you harder next time you jerk.” This man drove you utterly insane! And you couldn’t even understand why. Chishiya was so cold and for no reason…! 

Walking back to your pool chair you snatched your shorts, “Y/n…! Y/n! Are you okay!?” Nanami hurried to your side, you had forgotten all about your sister being in full range of the horror show she had just finished watching between you and Niragi. Probably too scared to try and intervene and you didn’t blame her. Had it been anyone else besides your sister in your shoes you would’ve kept to yourself as well. 

“I’m fine, I’d say you should check on Chishiya but apparently he doesn’t need anybody!” You flailed your arms before plopping down on the seat still mad, “What a…! A…! Pathetic, bitter way to live! He’s so conceited!” You curled your fists as you pulled your shorts up before buttoning them as you grabbed your sheer cover up jacket. 

Nanami frowned as she grabbed her hands, “Well…” You whipped around in anger, silently staring at her, just daring her to try and come up with some excuse for this guy. Nanami, was a soft hearted person, she never wanted to judge a book by it’s cover and always gave the benefit of the doubt. You admired that about her, but you sometimes wished she was a bit more….realistic with people, “I’m sure he’ll come around.” She decided to not pursue her original words as she offered a weak smile. 

“You can deal with that if you want, but I’m done with him. Anytime I try to be relatively nice, I just get spit in the face.” Huffing you crossed your arms, “I’m going on a walk.” And true to your words you did, you needed to be by yourself for a while to clear your head after what had all transpired just minutes ago. 

“Originally I helped run a ranch but I wanted to see all the sights so I moved out of my pops and came here to the city!” The music was loud in here and so many people were dancing, makeshift stripper poles had been made and honestly. You understood the Beach was supposed to be an escape, but that didn’t make it a bit of a pathetic sight to see people attempting to swing around and accidentally break it. Multiple times. 

You were currently sat at the table with Akari, Hiroko and Ryu everyone having a fairly good time and the longer you talked to Hiroko the less intimidating she became, “I don’t really remember much to be honest,” Akari scratched her head as she hummed, “Just that after I finished putting groceries up I saw fireworks out of my window.”

You straightened up in curiosity, you had seen the same thing! “Yeah we all did,” You slumped at Ryu’s words as he frowned, “Nobody can remember anything after seeing them except waking up here in the Borderlands.”

“What were you guys before this…?” You asked, not wanting to linger for long on just where you were, in a city that was a replica of Tokyo with only a handful of what? A hundred people, maybe a little more? You didn’t have the mindset right now to even try and grasp what was going on or what had happened. 

“I was a lawyer,” Hiroko answered first, her expression clearly proud and you’d imagine why, this meant she was older than you! “I did quite a bit of traveling around and dabbled in attorney work for awhile...That’s what my dad wanted me to go in as,” She rolled her eyes, “But I found I’m better at building a case.” 

Somehow...you weren’t surprised, you smiled regardless wrapping your arms around yourself, the more you talked to them the more comfortable you began to feel, “One morning I was late to getting to the courthouse and this idiot ended up spilling coffee on me,” Hiroko’s words may have been harsh but she looked Ryu with the softest expression you had ever seen her wear.

Obvious fondness in her eyes, “It was by chance he did that I like to think it was by fate I ended up meeting him again except he was behind the counter at the coffeeshop I always went too.” 

Ryu’s cheeks dusted pink as he gave an awkward smile, “I worked evening shifts but got switched over to mornings, best decision I ever made! I’m currently in my last year of college for being an art curator!” 

“A cure what now?” Akari cocked her head to the side and for some reason the three of you busted out laughing at her as she parted her lips, “Hey don’t laugh! I’m being serious! Is that some kind of professional coffee maker?” 

You closed your eyes giggling as you shook your head, “What about you Y/n? What were you before all of this?” You paused for a second at Hiroko’s question as the table quieted down, suddenly your memory swiped back to the night of the fireworks. What happened at work, how you were supposed to go to class the next day. How your night ended early.

“Ah…” You rubbed the back of your neck as you sheepishly smiled, unsure of where to even begin. It wasn’t that...you were ashamed of your work you just- felt often misunderstood by people. Anytime you said you were a sex worker you either recieved wild looks and suddenly you were treated lowly or people- men in particular would begin to send you uncomfortable innuendo’s. 

 “Ah…! Y/n!” You straightened up at the muffled screech that sounded like your sister as your eyes shot around the room only to find Nanami fumbling towards you with a whine, suddenly hiding behind you as you frowned standing up, “Good! Good! I’m glad you’re here!” She chuckled nervously as your expression contorted. 

“Where is that bitch!?” 

Oh...why did this seem vaguely familiar, “What did you do?” You hissed as you turned to Nanami as she rubbed her neck sheepishly only for you to whirl back around again at the sight of a raging woman, the most notable feature her breasts nearly spilling from her loose bikini top as she pointed an accusing finger at your sister, “Why don’t you stop being a slut trying to get with MY boyfriend and take it up with me!” 

“Nanami!” You hissed as she cowered behind you, her lips tugging into a pout as she poked both her pointer fingers together with a frown. You had an obligation as a big sister to at least try to defend her before feeding her to the wolves, “Maybe you should give that energy to your boyfriend...Wasn’t he the one supposed to stay loyal?” You raised your brows as you spoke. 

You shrieked as you ducked down, a beer bottle flying above you as the girl raged on. 

“That’s Kokona, resident miss possessive.” Hiroko leaned back in her seat as she sipped her drink, obviously this wasn’t too odd of a sight as she shrugged, “You might wanna run.” 

You brows raised at her words only to see Kokona gathering three other men around as Hiroko snorted, “She’s got a whole pack of guys willing to do her bidding.” 

“Y/n…!” Nanami whined, grabbing your arm as you watched the three men approach, you looked between Nanami and them as your lips parted in a half sincere apology. 

“...Sorry Nami that's what happens when you try to sleep with someone's boyfriend!” You shoved past her as you heard her yelling at you as she split off on the other side of the room. People did nothing to effort to try and move out of your way as you shoved between them, ducking down as weaved through the crowd in hopes of attempting to lose them, you really didn’t want this to become a reputation for you and your sister. 

Diving into a booth seat you felt the stares of two men as you offered an awkward smile, “Don’t mind me, I’m just trying to not get killed…” You offered a quirked smile as you grabbed the long island tea off the table, tipping it towards them as they all bubbled out cheers as you took a long sip, your eyes carefully watching over the crowd as you spot the one guy that must’ve been sent after you. 

After all you weren’t the one that Kokona wanted to kill, it was a pretty common occurrence you had experienced except...at least the woman before wasn't psychotic enough to actually try to kill you. You supposed the Borderlands were different. Very different. 

“Hey you should totally hang with us! We got your back babe.” You looked up at the dorky grin of the man you had sat next to your lying figure, which you were trying to use the table as coverage, “No extra cost needed beside a good laugh!”

You offered a weak smile, “I’m Y/n!” You introduced, endeared at the oddly innocent smile on his face as you awkwardly shifted, “My sister tried to sleep with someone's boyfriend and I somehow got dragged into it.” 

“Kokona’s a mean one,” The guy across the table hiccuped as he lifted his glass, “I’d stay away from her if I were.” You lifted up onto your elbows as you glanced up at him, his eyes heavily dilated before you realized he had obviously been as high as a kite and drinking...No wonder they looked so out of it. 

Watching the three men rally back together you quickly pressed back against the seats as you closed your eyes, “Yeah, I can tell...Is she like this with everyone....?” You grabbed the glass once more for another sip, needing something to take the edge off of this whole day. If your sister wasn’t so horny you wouldn’t be in this position right now!

“Nah, mainly girls.” The one beside you waved a hand, “She’s pretty cool otherwise, a little ruthless though. She gloats about her speciality being hearts a lot so she thinks it makes her automatically superior since most of us are spades or clubs players.” 

Sitting up a little you tilted your head in confusion, holding the drink you now claimed as yours as you drank it once more, “Specialty? Are venues specified towards…? What? A certain type of suit?” 

“No! No! Nothing like that, specialty just means what you naturally have a knack for! All games are still random at each venue,” The guy beside you sloshed his drink, obviously semi drunk himself as he explained, “That's why Hatter sends a team of four or three where each person has a specialty in each suit- except there isn’t a lot of hearts player, because we haven’t really encountered any…” 

Jiggling your drink you looked down at the ice that was slowly melting as you hummed, “Okay that makes sense.” You nodded remembering Hatter mentioning this was well, it would only be natural that the longer you survived you’d have a preference for a suit. 

“Hey aren’t you new?” The guy across the table pointed a sluggish finger at you, “Shouldn’t you be a little more...freaked out…?” 

You offered a weak smile as you glanced away, “Oftentimes in traumatic situations hysteria doesn’t always hit first, it’s likely that my psyche is still in shock and hasn’t fully processed what I’ve seen the past day…” The guy across the table squinted his eyes as he nodded with his lips parted as if in awe at your words, “It’s a mental thing,” You waved at your head, “To try and keep the psychological state of my mind in one piece.” 

You wouldn’t deny, there was a certain part of you that felt numb to everything and a smaller part of yourself wondered how you could intake all this information without going hysterical. But...the way you saw it was if this was your reality now, there was nothing you could do to change it. It was better you just got as much information as you could and try your best to adapt if you were going to live on. 

Glancing out over the crowd you noticed the men had disappeared once again as you offered both the guys a smile, “Thanks for letting me stay! But I’d better get going.” You gave a small nod, getting up as you held the glass, looking down at it as you frowned...You really hoped this wasn’t laced with anything or else it was going to be a very long night. 

Pushing through the crowd you couldn’t find Nanami anywhere but you did spot the girl you had sent three guys after you both like a fucking dog. Squeezing the glass you took a long drink as you approached her, “Kokona,” You called out with a smile as you waved, her eyes sharp as she immediately glared you down, “Listen…” You approached her with an easy smile, “I’m not here to make enemies, my sister is young and she probably didn’t realize it was your boyfriend…But like I said, you don’t really want a guy like that around…”

“Listen here you walmart knock off barbie,” Kokona pointed a sharp nail at you making your lips part a little in surprise at just how aggressive she was, “I don’t give a fuck. I don’t have the time or patience, here of all places. I’m sure you understand right?” She offered a gritty smile, “So tell that bitchy little sister of yours to stay out of my sight if she doesn’t want her hair ripped out.” 

Pressing your tongue to your cheek you looked away for a second before down at your drink...Well, she asked for it. 

You without a second thought held the drink up before splashing it all over her, “Say what you want about me I don’t give a fuck,” You stepped closer to her as you offered a gritty smile of your own, “But don’t ever say anything about my sister. I’m sure I’ll see you later.” You waved a hand as you turned around, walking back to the table where Akari, Ryu and Hiroko looked like they were all preparing to duck for cover at the show Kokona had put on for them unknowingly.

Setting the glass down at the table you collapsed in your chair as you whined, “Why are women so unfriendly here!?” 

Hiroko snorted as she shrugged, obviously not bugged like you were about it, “In this world it’s either kill or be killed, a lot of people don’t have time for niceties anymore. You’ll get used to it. Besides, Kokona is just a bitch to everyone. Don’t take it so personal.” She shrugged, “While you and Nanami were getting chased down we were talking…” 

You frowned as you looked up at all three of them as Akari smacked the table, “We should all go out for a game tonight! I know! I know, counterproductive especially with our visa’s stocked for the next few days but I think it’d be fun!” 

“Fun!?” The three of them paused as you sat up in your seat, looking at them all like they were insane because they obviously had to be, “Fun!?” You repeated again with even more emphasis, “Guys…! You- you could die!” 

“We could die just trying to breath here,” Hiroko scoffed as she shrugged, nonpulsed at your reaction as she picked her nails, ‘Besides you don’t have to go, I get it. We were all like this when we were new too. But I figured we’d make a good team logically. My speciality is diamond, Ryu’s is clubs and we just found out Akari is spades. And we have you, our wild card to figure out what you’re good at. It’s unlikely we’d die. By statistics at least.” 

You rubbed your neck, feeling a little more at ease with Hiroko’s rationality as you mumbled, “Well what about Nanami…?” Your eyes washed over the crowd, finally spotting your sister against the wall sipping something trying to act like there weren't three guys after her. 

“I doubt you’d want her to go?” Hiroko raised her brows, “Besides she still has three days left on her visa, she’ll be fine. Again, I’m not gonna pressure you into going, if all you’re gonna do is panic you probably will get lynched.” 

Her words made you puff your chest a little as you looked back to Nanami before back to the table, well...if they all had a strong suit then why not? “Alright, I’m in!” Who knows when you’d get the opportunity again to get more days on your visa in a considerably safe group. 

“I get it you’re like a walking model but seriously?” Hiroko leaned against the bathroom wall as she sighed picking at her nails, “You weren’t even in a full bikini.” 

“This has nothing to do with vanity and everything to do with comfort!” You called back, pulling up the loose sweatpants, “I’m not going to possibly go into a game that makes me run while wearing swimwear, I don’t hate myself that much!” You pulled the loose t-shirt over your head before pulling out the maroon jacket as you walked out, stuffing your swim attire in the bag. You had been at the venue for the past five minutes now, having not crossed the threshold but you still have time before it closed. 

“How many people have showed up?” You asked as you stood next to Hiroko who dropped her hand as she looked at you rolling her eyes as she sighed, standing up as you both walked to where Akari and Ryu were discussing the possibilities of what the game would be tonight. 

“Eh, like four? Maybe? I think that guy you know is in there.” Hiroko shrugged casually, “Looks like a good setup for a spades game, they typically have a bigger group number.” 

“What?” Your brows furrowed, what guy? Your mind drew a blank briefly as Ryu stretched out with a nod.

“Well if we’re all ready to go then let's head inside it’s almost six.” Ryu nodded once more as everyone followed behind him, you tossed your bag against the wall, it’s not like you had to be worried about anyone stealing in this climate. Your heartbeat picked up as you crossed the threshold. 

Noticing indeed four other people here before your lips parted and your face screwed into irritation, “Really!?” You muttered under your breath, immediately turning away from the familiar white hood as you stubbornly crossed your arms, “Hiroko why didn’t you say it was him!?” You hissed a whisper to her. 

Hiroko looked between you and Chishiya who was on his phone, earbuds in and ignoring the outside world before she tried to hold a laugh, “Did you two fuck or something?” You immediately flailed at her words making both her and Akari start laughing at both your misery and anger as you glared at her in unappreciation. 

“You think i’d fuck someone like him!?” You hissed out, “No, he's a total jerk! I…! Why can’t I go anywhere without him showing up!” You groaned as you crossed your arms, “Whatever, maybe he’ll get his guts ripped out tonight.” 

“Ouch, that’s a little harsh.” Ryu frowned, innocent as ever as he held his hands together, before offering a cute smile, “I’m sure he’ll come around, we’re all a part of the beach after all.” You sourly crossed your arms as you looked at the clock, striking six just in time for you to get tonight started with whatever death trap awaited.” 

Somehow, you doubt Chishiya held any loyalty to any of you at all just because you all slept in the same hotel…

The TV on the wall lit up as everyone's attention turned to it, obviously nobody was new here tonight as no one spoke to each other.

Game

Difficulty: 3♡ 

“A heart's game?” Ryu mumbled, his brows furrowed as he looked between you all as you gave a little shrug, your face twisted in concern as you wrapped your arms around yourself, “Well at least it’s a low difficulty! I’m sure it won’t be too hard to solve!” 

“The game you will be participating in is Blind Man's Bluff. Everyone will be required to wear a blindfold for one minute where the tagger will pass their tag off,” The screen depicted a faceless man passing quite literally a name tag off to one sitting down “Tags pertain to who is a player and who is the tagger. You will have twenty minutes to complete the game. It’s a Game ‘Clear’ if the tagger is discovered before the end of the last round, it’s a Game Over for the players if the tagger remains undiscovered.” 

Rules:

After each tagging sequence players will remain seated to take off their blindfold and find out if they have been selected as the tagger.

Blindfolds must be worn and kept on for the whole minute during the tagging sequence or it’s a Game Over.

Violence against other players is strictly prohibited and will result in a Game Over.

Players must remain seated for the whole time period of the tagging sequence or it’s a Game Over.

Game Clear conditions: If the players find out who the tagger is before the time runs out or it’s a Game Over for all players.

Tension had risen in the air a little as you felt your throat become dry, everyone immediately looked at each other somewhat suspiciously as the doors opened to the school gym, it was dark and empty outside of eleven chairs lined in a circle, all backs facing each other. 

“It could be worse.” Hiroko whispered to you as everyone grabbed a blindfold off the table that stood off in the distance, “As long as we just keep passing the tagger off to someone else we should be fine.” 

“Unless one of us gets picked by the end?” You quirked a brow as you rubbed the back of your neck, chances of that happening was one in ten but still, “I don’t like those odds Hiroko.” 

Hiroko only snorted as you both walked up, grabbing a blindfold as your eyes darted to the tags that laid out. Your brows furrowed at the stuffed bear with a blindfold on, his name tag ‘Rikku’ that took up his whole stomach, grabbing a tag as you turned back to face Hiroko.

“All we have to do is get a confession out of the tagger, it can’t be that hard.” Hiroko shrugged as she grabbed her blindfold as you puffed a breath of air, you hadn’t known her for long and despite knowing she was a lawyer before all of this...it was just still hard to imagine unless she was pressuring. Not exactly your method of going about stuff like this. 

Walking to a chair towards the left side of the room you sat down, crossing your legs as you looked up at the two clocks, one at twenty minutes that began ticking away and another holding at one minute. 

Looking towards your left your gaze immediately snapped back forward as your lips curled a little at the insufferable sight of blonde hair who made no effort to try and speak to you. 

Was he just sitting here purposely to annoy you? Because if you got tagger you would most definitely put it on him next. 

“The one minute for the tagging sequence getting ready to begin, blindfolds on.” 

Putting on your blindfold you tied it in a loose knot as you relaxed back into your chair, not being the tagger was perhaps the boring part of this game, the whole minute passed by and you briefly felt something press against your blindfold before it left. 

“Blinds off. Ten second cool down starts now.” Taking off your blindfold you flipped it over only to find the tag player stuck on it, attached magnetically as you pulled it off, proceeding to wait the ten seconds before the scoreboard went off and everyone stood up. 

“Maybe we should start easy and just show who has a name tag?” Ryu coughed a little as he scuffed his shoe against the ground, rubbing his neck as he frowned, everyone, as if it was possible, became all the more tense. 

You looked around at all the blindfolds that were being held, “I don’t think that will work, we've most likely all been provided a nametag, the only odd man out is the one with tagger. But they’ve most likely hidden it. All we can do is just take a guess of who it could be.” 

Nobody spoke for a moment making Hiroko heave a sigh as she cracked her neck, “Alright I’ll do it, I’m used to this in court. What about you!” She suddenly pointed to a shorter girl who had been fiddling with her skirt, suddenly jumping at the accusation. 

“What!? I’m- I’m not the tagger!” She squeaked out, nervousness suddenly on her expression and many of the wolves of the group were definitely preying on her right now as Hiroko puffed a breath crossing her arms. 

“Then why do you look so nervous?” She raised an accusing brow, making you shift in your spot, crossing your arms, you couldn’t agree with Hiroko’s approach to this that was just stoking fire to an already stressful atmosphere where everyone was quickly beginning to pin the blame on each other. 

You could only stand there and watch as everyone began to argue as you pinched the bridge of your nose, “We’re never gonna get anything solved if we go about it like this.” You muttered to yourself as you sighed.

“If you’re that confident in doing better then you should assert yourself more.” 

You turned to Chishiya who was also standing not quite close enough for you to say he was next to you, but close enough. Your eyes squinted into a glare as you spoke, “Right and how do I know you’re not the tagger?” 

“Because I would’ve tagged you next if I was.” Chishiya shrugged casually making you clench your fists as you let out a noise of irritation, you hated that…! Annoying smirk of his! Despite not knowing him for long you could get the idea he obviously got off on annoying you and it only fueled your irritation that much more. 

“The feelings are mutual, stranger.” You hissed as you crossed your arms, “And I’ll have you know I am not going to insert myself into...that!” You waved your hand at the sight of two of the men now shouting at each other, the taller one immediately grabbing the other by the shirt, “Because at that point you’ll just be accused with any sort of logic.” 

You puffed a breath as you wrapped your jacket around yourself, “And besides, this chaos is a great scapegoat for the real tagger to just sit back and watch everyone pick each other off-” You paused as you turned to Chishiya as you silently berated yourself, why were you even rambling to this guy!? He was a total jerk and you were not about to let go of this morning where you were only trying to help, “Why are you even talking to me? Didn’t you want us to...what? Stay strangers?” 

“I’m...not talking to you?” He raised his brows, his lips quirking into an infuriating half smile as if he had a point making your lips pucker together and your jaw clench in effort to try and keep your obvious anger to a minimum, “It’s not my fault you won’t shut up.” He had the audacity to shrug. 

You couldn’t help but stomp your foot as you glared at him, “You know what!? I get the feeling if you didn’t care you would’ve gone and sulked in the corner the whole game. In fact, I bet you like listening to me ramble. After all the whole day and a half I’ve known you that's all you do other than instigate unnecessary fights!” 

Chishiya’s gaze narrowed a little and you watched his body coil a little away from you at your words, “In what world would you think I care to listen to you?” His lips twitched into cruel smirk as he spoke, “Besides your irrational anger and blabbering, you don’t have an ounce of sense or logic in your body. You're probably best suited for hearts because all you do is spill emotion.” 

“That is not what hearts are about!” You retaliated as you threw your hands even more frustrated, “Why are you so defensive the moment I say anything in relation to you possibly not being some emotionless humanoid!? I get it,” You flailed your arms as you spoke louder, “I was a total dick for comparing you to a sociopath! Okay? I can admit that, and usually I can understand where people are coming from but- but you!? I genuinely don’t get you! At all! One moment you wanna pretend like everything's cool between us and then the next you wanna act like a total asshole! And that’s not cool!” 

Chishiya had looked away from you heaving a loud sigh making you stomp your foot again, here you were exerting all of your emotion into him and he really…! 

Your fists curling only to realize just how silent it was...you turned to look at the crowd of people who all had stopped fighting and...Oh...you felt your face become hot as you wrapped your arms around yourself in embarrassment...Were you really that loud…

“If you and your boyfriend are done arguing we have more important things to solve!” A man pointed a finger at you with a hiss making you curl away, your ears burning at his words as you snapped back, “He is not my boyfriend! Besides you aren’t getting anything done just yelling at each other,” You turned away from Chishiya now unable to even look him in the eyes at the moment, “The real question is who has been silent up until now? The tagger would obviously sit back and watch because why would they insert themselves when you’re doing a great job at killing time.” 

“The one minute for the tagging sequence getting ready to begin, blindfolds on.” 

Clenching your jaw you sat in your chair as everyone proceeded to do the same, it was now silent as you put on your blindfold, now angry and not even at the game. You wasted your whole time, not even arguing with Chishiya which somehow made you feel even more angry. 

It was like talking to a wall.

Crossing your legs you curled up against yourself, mad just...Why were you even mad? You shouldn’t be letting someone like this get under your skin. You briefly wondered why it bothered you so much. Come to think of it, you supposed it was for the exact reason you said. 

Chishiya, puzzled you to no end and you had never experienced that with someone, ever. You couldn’t figure out what he was thinking nor find an understanding as to why he was so back and forth with you. Maybe it was your misinterpretation? But...You shook your head a little despite your gaze darkened from the blindfold, it wasn’t that. 

It was obvious, for whatever reason, he was holding himself back, From what? You didn’t know, but for now…

“Blinds off. Ten second cool down starts now.” 

Pulling off your blindfold you looked at it, the same tag remaining of Player on it. You needed to focus on finding out who the tagger was, really this was like a game of hot potato, chances of the tagger getting killed was just as high as all the players dying, and who would want to take that chance? 

Maybe some, you stood up after the scoreboard went off and the original clock resumed as you turned around facing everyone to judge their reactions, Hiroko and Ryu were the same and so was Akari to your knowledge. Your eyes briefly flickered to Chishiya who had remained seated, his hands in his pockets, he also...You doubted yourself briefly, you couldn’t rule him out. 

“Who here wasn’t talking last round?” You asked, looking around at everyone, who obviously everyone immediately began speaking much to your frustration, you couldn’t expect someone to answer honestly which only meant...Puffing a breath, “Alright, how about this, let’s all trace a conversation with one person we talked too last round.” 

...You’d just have to manipulate the tagger into confessing

First you’d need to trace who was absolutely not the tagger and narrow it from there, “I’ll go first as an example since everyone seemed to hear last round,” You looked away briefly, a somewhat awkward smile on your lips, “I was talking to Chishiya about why he’s such an asshole. You don’t need his confirmation given everyone saw it, but typically you’d need someone to vouch for you in order to confirm you were talking. Now to those that didn’t talk, it doesn’t make them guilty, just more suspect.” 

“Me and Ryu were talking to each other about who the possible tagger was.” Hiroko spoke up, pulling a hand around Ryu’s waist who looked a little flush as he nodded, semi shy as you nodded yourself. That answer wasn’t too surprising. 

“Well I was talkin’ to this fine gentleman here about how I wasn’t the tagger.” Akari waved a hand to the guy beside her, who still leered but nodded in confirmation which cleared the both of them. You had hoped...this would keep civil, but as everyone went around, there was bound to be some who just genuinely didn’t remember because they were arguing with everyone, and those who were lying…

Which meant by this deduction things were narrowed down, for most people the chance of being found out you were the tagger is too stressful to be worth possibly being the only one to live in the end, thus handing it off, which meant there was...what? One in third chance each round the tagger was someone new? There were a few people you had to suspect that could have held the tagger without giving it up. 

The guy towards the middle who was very strangely calm during all of this with very empty looking eyes, and then there was the other man more towards you left who had been calmly de-escalating the situation but you didn’t miss the undertones of manipulation. It was one in third chance they could be holding it. Which meant you’d need to make sure they weren’t.

Walking over you stood more near Hiroko and Ryu as you watched two guys begin arguing again, “Every time I think we’ve made progress, it always ends up getting disturbed.” 

“Well that is the way of the world.” You kept a straight expression at the man who offered a smile that looked so unnatural to his empty eyes, you couldn’t help but feel a bit creeped out at how...insanely calm he was. You could get a sense of tension from at least Chishiya, granted it was most likely from you. 

“I’m Y/n,” You introduced, “Sense we should all be working together I figured it’d be best we at least learn each other's names.” You offered a sweet smile as you wrapped your jacket around yourself in effort to try and look unsuspecting. 

“I see how much anger you have inside you know? It’s quite obvious, from the way you lash out at others when you don’t get the response you want to the way you feel entitled to everyone's feelings, that’s not good for your health you know?” Your lips parted a little at his words, not even offended because...while he was right in some ways...he was very wrong in others, “But I understand your nature is tedious and complex, for all we not the same way?” Okay...this guy was definitely a psychopath, “I’m Sunato Banda, pleased to meet you.” He offered another smile. 

Empty eyes, disturbingly calm demeanor, even with your lives on the line he wasn’t disturbed at all, it wasn’t that he didn’t care. He just wasn’t affected, at all, like this could be a walk in the park for him. 

Psychopath, definitely. 

You’d need to be careful if tagger got in his possession otherwise he’d lie straight through his teeth and he’d never blink twice about it and you and everyone else would be unsuspecting about it.

“Well, us humans are very complex,” You nodded offering yet another smile making effort to look almost starstruck at his very poor deduction skills, again, somewhat correct, otherwise wrong. Afterall, how could someone who feels no remorse, truly understand the complexity of human nature? “Do you by any chance know who the tagger would be?” 

You’d need to make yourself look weak, pliable, if you were to get any use out of this guy, all he knew was how to do was take advantage of people, obviously, Banda offered a sly smile as he looked out over the room, his eyes washing over everyone, “Him,” He pointed a finger, “He keeps adjusting his coat as if he has something placed in there that’s uncomfortable.” 

You followed his line of sight to what looked like a business man in a suit and bowler hat, he did in fact, look quite nervous, “And why not call him out?” You asked, tilting your head exaggerated as you brimmed with curiosity. 

Banda turned to face you, a bright smile on his face as he closed his eyes, “Well I personally hope he’ll tag me next, I quite enjoy seeing a large build up in bodies.” 

..Oh...oh wow…

You gave a small nod, forcing a smile as you held yourself before excusing yourself from him, well, at least it definitely wasn’t him for now. Otherwise you’d be in trouble right now. And now you had a prime suspect. Some could overthink that and argue that perhaps he was lying just to get you off his trail. But personally? There was no way it’d be him, he wouldn’t do something like that. You got the feeling Banda, was a simple man. 

You turned to find the two guys from before who were tussling suddenly growl, one throwing a punch and before he could even fully hit the guy a deep red laser broke through the ceiling, you were frozen for a half a second at the sight of it shooting through the top of his head. Everyone was quiet as they looked down at the sight of a now dead body. 

Right...that was a rule, violence was prohibited. 

“The one minute for the tagging sequence getting ready to begin, blindfolds on.” 

You scurried back to your seat, sitting down as you pulled up your blindfold, “It’s that guy wearing the dumb bowler hat.” Your head looked towards you left despite not being able to see, Chishiya’s voice was quiet as he spoke, “While you were busy wasting time, I watched the real tagger- that school girl place it in his back pocket.” 

“The tagger can do that during the round?” You whispered back perplexed at the idea, how could you have missed that? Unless...she placed it right as you approached Banda? Thus him seeing the man realize he had been tagged and now nervously adjusting himself?

“There aren't any rules stating otherwise, makes it fair game.” Chishiya replied, he immediately quieted at the sound of footsteps tapping on the floor, they were definitely on your side of the ring. Your breath hitched a little at feeling something press against your forehead. Oh shit before the sound of footsteps walked away. 

“We just need to watch for him next round.” Chishiya spoke once more as you leaned back in your seat, trying to find a reason for why you just felt what you did. 

“Blinds off. Ten second cool down starts now. Final round will be next round” 

You hurriedly took yours off as you flipped it over looking down at it, 

Tagger

Motherfucker. 

You quickly grabbed it off, at first trying to push it into your pocket only to realize they were fake. God you hated women’s clothing, your eyes shot to the clock that only had five seconds left, with nowhere to put it you shoved it down your bra as you collected yourself. Okay you...you could make this work. 

But now you were presented with a plethora of options. You honestly didn’t think it would be passed off to you. But now...you...you could keep it...You stood up as the scoreboard went off, but...Everyone else would die. Or...you could confess and you’d die. These options were not great. Next round was the last round, so if you gave it up...you’d be reassuring someone’s victory. 

You stood next to Chishiya as his eyes kept with the man from before with the bowler hat, “He might have gotten it passed back to him.” His eyes narrowed a little onto the guy. 

Do you find a way to discreetly tell him? Or would that also count as a confession…? It wouldn’t be a confession if you made yourself suspect. But...you couldn’t honestly trust Chishiya, not after his unstable display of distrust in you. 

“He could be,” You replied, leaning in a little as you watched him, he appeared relieved once more, he was the one freaked out about this after all...you felt a brief wave of guilt inside you at what your mind had suddenly come up with. 

With Chishiya’s suspect still on the man, all you needed to do was plant it back on him and pressure a confession out of him next round. 

You were very much going to hell after this. 

“He was the one that started accusing last round too and made someone die,” You hummed as you stuffed your hands in your pocket, “That guy also thought it was him. He’s definitely good at reading people,” You thought back to the way he tried to read you, which was somewhat accurate, but people like you and him, you couldn’t always accurately read each other. Except you weren’t insane like him, “At this point we don’t have much to lose.” 

You could see the cogs turning in Chishiya’s head as he stared menacingly at the man who looked at him and jolted a little at such an intense stare, “If I were the tagger by this point,” You were treading on very thin ice at the moment, “I’d keep it just for myself, instead passing it off. He’s gone this far without anyone really pressuring him. It’d be the smartest move by now.” 

“Then we’ll settle on him.” Chishiya replied, his gaze cold as he glared down at the man who mindlessly fixed his tie, trying to look cool despite being intimidated, clearly. He had a weak mentality, if you couldn’t break him next round, Chishiya most definitely would. 

“The one minute for the tagging sequence getting ready to begin, blindfolds on.” 

You supposed he was good for something even when you couldn’t trust him. 

Sitting down in your chair you put your blindfold on and waited a second before taking it back off, standing back up as you carefully stepped as quietly as you could, pulling the Tagger out of your bra before you walked over to the man who had just tagged you before pressing it against his blindfold, you watched his lips quiver as he let out a quiet, “Please…!” 

Your expression went cold as you turned around, glancing at the clock before you walked away and sat back down in your chair, putting your blindfold back on as you waited for the announcer once more. 

“Blinds off. Ten second cool down starts now. Final round.” 

You took the blindfold off, looking down feeling content at the Player tag as you stood up along with Chishiya who’s eyes went between you and the man before he pushed his hands back into his pockets, “If you’re all done pointing fingers and wasting time,” His gaze became a little more cool as he spoke, “Then we should go ahead and show who the real tagger is.” 

Both you and Chishiya glanced at the man who was now looking insanely nervous, sweat dripping down his neck and if this wasn’t life or death, you would’ve felt a little bad...Some parts of you still did, but it was either all of you or just him. 

“He does look pretty nervous.” Hiroko narrowed her eyes on him and from this moment forward you knew it was game over for him, quite literally. With all three of you there was no way he’d survive, crossing your arms you lifted your chin a little, “Say, weren’t you the one who got really defensive when the finger got pointed at you last round?” 

“I’m…!” He flailed a little, wiping his brow with his hand as he suddenly pointed an accusing finger at you, “It’s her you want! She’s a manipulative bitch!” You pressed your hand against your chest in fake hurt as you raised your brows, “She’s the one pitting everyone against me when she’s really the tagger. She’s going to leave you all to die.” 

The majority of eyes fled to you as you shrugged, “Why would I do that when I could just give it to you?” You gave a wickedly sweet smile as you giggled a little, “And watch it all go down. I mean, you must be agreeing now?” You raised your brows as you goaded, “About being the tagger?” 

“I…!” He struggled with his words, now glaring at you as you raised your brows once more as you shook your head, “I…! Now you’re just doing this on purpose! Trying to get into everyone's head and make everyone die! Can’t- can’t you see what she’s doing!” He cried out as he backed away from everyone. 

“I dunno’ you seem pretty guilty to me.” Akari shrugged as she poked her tongue into her cheek, not looking the least bit remorseful for the guy as she leaned her weight onto one side. 

“I get it,” You shrugged as you laughed a little, “You’re probably that kinda guy who’s never really stood up for himself, you probably got bullied as a kid and let yourself get run over by people all the time, even now, and now in desperation you attempt to hold your own and yet...” You tilted your head with a frown as you mocked, “You still can’t do anything right. I guess that goes to show, that people like you just never have a spine. If you can’t assert yourself now with your life on the line, you might as well die now. Because let’s face it, people like you only end in two ways, either spineless pathetic existence or you become the abuser out of a sick need to regain what you lost as a kid.” 

Reverse psychology, worked in the most simplistic ways. 

That seemed to get him to snap, you watched his eyes dilate and pure unfurled rage cross his expression as he shrieked, “Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! You know nothing about my life! You know nothing about me! And because I’m the tagger I’ll get to watch all you pathetic people die! Who’s in control now!?” 

It’s a shame he couldn’t take control of his life in any other circumstance. 

Everyone paused and even he himself paused at the realization, his eyes welled with tears that made something deep in your heart lurch, your eyes squinting a little as your expression wilted a little as the red laser broke through the roof shooting him straight through the top of his head. His body crumpling to the ground. 

‘Game Cleared’

Everyone was still for a moment before you looked down at the blindfold and then to your hands, the memory hazy yet the memory of red staining them still so clear as you felt ringing in your ears and your vision blur for a moment as you let the fabric slip through your fingers. Running a hand through your hair you wrapped your arms around your jacket as you walked past the body, briefly looking at the once timid man who obviously let others run his life.

“Sorry.” You whispered quietly as you stepped over the corpse, “Come on, let’s go. I don’t wanna stay around here.” You looked towards the other three who nodded, also looking semi apprehensive as well. 

Now that the moment was over, the cruel reality was back to remind you that you just gaslit someone into admitting their own suicide. It was hard to not feel innately disgusted with yourself despite your reasoning that you and all of your friends would’ve died if you had. Still, what you did was okay. You were supposed to help people like him, not encourage them to snap. 

If you didn’t feel conflicted before you certainly felt conflicted now, looking at the register you ignored the visa print as you grabbed the playing card off the table. 

And as if mocking, this was only a three of hearts. You couldn’t imagine what higher level games looked like with this. You’d definitely need to be careful in the future, “Y/n! Come on, let’s go!” You looked behind at Hiroko nodding towards the exit. 

“You guys go on, I’ll catch up later.” You looked down at the card again, Hiroko frowned at your figure, wanting to say something but she understood, the first few days of the Borderlands were never easy. With that, she left. Besides you needed to get changed before you headed for the beach again. 

Walking out of the exit you grabbed your bag that was, just as you anticipated, still against the wall, leaning down you opened it up as you began digging through to try and find your bathing suit top. Stuffing the card inside you furrowed your brows, why did the electricity have to go out so soon? 

“You could’ve kept the tagger and won but you didn’t. Why?” 

You paused your search at the sound of Chishiya’s voice, sounding like he was- not interrogating you but definitely investigating. You resumed once more as you shrugged, “I could’ve.” You agreed, and it did cross your mind after all, “I thought about it,” You admitted right after as you pulled out the swimsuit top, “But maybe to some degree you were right,” You stood up as you turned to face him, “I am spilling emotion constantly. And if there was a chance I could’ve saved all of us in turn for one? It didn’t seem like that big of a reach to do really…” You looked away from him as you grabbed your neck, feeling a bit sheepish, “It was by chance you had spotted him before and it was by luck that I was given tagger for the last round. I knew all you needed was just mutual confirmation in your assessment before initiating the end.” 

You sighed as you looked down at the elastic material in your hand as you frowned, “For what it’s worth, I would’ve probably done it to him regardless of whether he had been the tagger or not. It doesn’t take much to break the weakest link. That’s probably the saddest part to be honest.” 

You grabbed your backpack off the ground as you looked up at Chishiya before back towards the entrance where others slowly began to filter out, “I doubt he even realized the trap I set him up for,” You smiled wryly as you shook your head, “People are so easy to mislead, I forget sometimes, the power that can hold.” 

You turned around, intending to go change, “What were you before all of this?” You looked back at Chishiya, his gaze cool as ever and his eyes scanning over you as if in search for an answer that didn’t exist. Briefly your heart jumped in nervousness, did you dare tell the truth? 

Laughing you let out a sigh what was the use in hiding in this world? There were no laws and honestly, who could judge you? “I was a prostitute.” You looked away, feeling somewhat bashful as you awkwardly rubbed your neck, you could tell that was not what Chishiya had been expecting you to say.

 “Oh…!” Your lips parted suddenly feeling even more stupid at the realization that was not what he meant by his question, “You...You probably meant what I’m majoring in...sorry. Uh-” You gave him an apologetic smile that was more out of your sake of humiliation as assuming. Clearing your throat you turned back over your shoulder as you gave him one last look, holding up the three of hearts as you answered, “I’m a major in psychology ♡ ” 

[ot3]

had some 'thoughts' on an au where mia/lana and phoenix/edgeworth's narrative arcs are swapped (aka mia main protag lana main antag, phoenix mentor) and dumped over 1000 words on the subject in the groupchat today. here you go.

lana -

she and mia strike up a childhood friendship after the skye parents use the khurain channeling method to talk to lana and ema's grandparents. at this stage in life, lana really wants to be a detective because she believes that proper like collection, treatment, and handling of evidence is the Key to making sure everything in the world turns out fair and just and righteous. i think rather than less than one year she and mia have a few years of being friends like this, but don't see each other every day like phoenix and edgeworth would have at school. lana just makes the trek up to khurain village whenever she can and they call on the payphone etc.

then, the skye parents die in a car accident and she completely ghosts mia and drops off the face of the planet. the parents were killed by a drunk driver and gant is the detective assisting the prosecution with this case. the defendant is successfully imprisoned. lana goes on to become a detective under the tutelage of gant, who recognizes lanas potential from a young age and takes the skye sisters under his wings a la manfred and edgeworth. eventually he pushes lana into pursuing prosecution instead because he wants a pawn in the prosecutors office and he does this by telling her that he collaborated with the prosecutor of her parents' death to forge evidence and testimony, otherwise the killer would have gotten away with it. so she becomes the demon prosecutor.

mia -

meanwhile stays in khurain and continues her training for the most part. since there's no dl-6 nothing happens to misty and theres no reason for mia to leave, but one day shes watching her mother perform a channeling for someone and the person being channeled turns out to have been someone lana had falsely imprisoned who was subsequently executed. mia is like. hey holy shit that doesn't sound right. one, lana's supposed to be a detective, not a prosecutor, two, she wouldnt do that. i have to go find out what the hell happened and see what made her this way.

so mia leaves the village and attends law school at ivy and it's really her first time out of the village for any significant stretch of time and so she's very country mouse in the big city. dahlia spots her at the courthouse when she's pulling Her whole shtick and is like OH MY GOSH HEY CUZ YOU REMEMBER ME RIGHT (: (: (: (: (: SO CRAZY BESTIE BEEN SO LONG SINCE WE'VE SEEN YOU I HAVE A GIFT FOR YOU ((poison necklace)) and obviously there's not the dating identity swap i dont know about the specifics here but. mia gets involved in dahlias hijinks from Trusting Family too much and phoenix ends up defending her in court, which is where she meets him and eventually she begins working at his law firm with him

phoenix -

he and edgeworth were friends through childhood and when edgeworth started at themis to study as a defense attorney their friendship continued. phoenix spent enough time going over edgeworths schoolwork with him and serving as a filler in after-hours mock trials put on by the more enthusiastic students or bumming around in the art club because eventually they stopped kicking him out that eventually edgeworth started to realized phoenix kind of had a knack for the whole lawyering thing, and convinced him to give it a try. phoenix was very easily swayed by edgeworth telling him he was smart and good at something. he and edgeworth both started practicing as defense attorneys at the edgeworth law offices, with phoenix lagging a bit behind edgeworth in terms fo passing the bar and whatnot. maybe by a couple of years. did they date in this timeline? yes. absolutely. idk when though. some awkward high school stuff for sure and then probably some more serious stuff as adults.

he and lana face off in the fawles trial and the whole affair ends with fawles suicide and ray getting godot'd with the poison bottle. also something mysterious happens to edgeworth and he's suddenly cold and distant, leaving his fathers firm to pursue a career as a prosecutor. phoenix can't bear to be there without edgeworth so he leaves to open his own firm. here's where phoenix starts getting the idea that maybe the way the law functions needs some changing, so he starts doing some side research on the jurist system while he takes a break from cases. he keeps getting stopped everywhere he goes and everyone he talks to, and eventualyl finds out that one man currently owns pretty much all of the justice system: redd white. so phoenix begins looking into white trying to take him down as a prerequisite for judicial reform. this does not work and phoenix gets bludgeoned to death in his office after mia wins her first case. RIP KING !

edgeworth -

becomes a defense attorney at his father's firm as established. pretty much what you'd expect from a no dl-6 au edgeworth. but then. the twistening: this is also something i haven't really ironed out the specifics of but whatever it doesn't really matter. MVK has been eyeing revenge on greg. in a sort of parallel to the sl-9 incident, greg - with edgeworth as co-counsel - had been defending someone accused of a serial killing, and it REALLY started to look like the prosecution was not going to be able to put the case through. there's one final confrontation where the prosecution is interrogating the defendant, and the defense team is waiting outside. power outage, scuffle, blah blah blah, long story short it ends with mvk killing the defendant and setting the scene up to make it seem like greg killed the man (either accidentally or in self defense?idk) which, yknow, killing your defendant is sure to ruin a defense attorneys reputation

so mvk blackmails edgeworth into switching teams and becoming a prosecutor. in a few years, he's chief prosecutor like lana was. since mvk works internationally he cant keep the position himself, but having edgeworth there as a pawn works in his favor and of course edgeworth is wholly miserable

ema -

sort of in fran's place. becomes a detective at an incredibly young age and pops up after mia gets gant arrested. she's got more of her aa4 bitterness going on here because gant was basically like forensics is fucking stupid (whihc she now realizes is because forensic analysis makes fucking lying in court a hell of a lot harder) and is embittered because she essentially had her dream beaten out of her to be used as someones pawn. she spent all this time trying to live up to her sister and help her sister when her sister wasnt even doing anything good either. shows up after lana 'chooses death' to investigate her sisters disappearance

maya -

still assists as mia's co counsel, only she's channeling phoenix for the most part here. very sad that the only time phoenix and maya will ever get to meet is once pearly gets into the mix but these are the sacrifices we make.

fran -

i think conceptually still the second prosecutor once lana Chooses Death only since she spent most of her life without edgeworth, the two of them are on slightly different terms than they are in canon. not as close, but not quite as volatile and competitive either since she was working as a prosecutor far before he was. edgeworth calls her into the country to start prosecuting while he is, i guess, in jail for his crimes, presumably, because he wants to believe she is a good enough person to prosecute the Right way and doesn't trust most of the remaining prosecutors in the district. shes still sort of on the fence over the whole game but obviously gets pushed over the edge in 2-4

[wildernessuntothemselves]

I Hate Me Now

Word Count: 6k 

Genre: Angst, smut 

Summary: You and Wonpil used to be lovers, soulmates even, before your priorities in life got in the way. You wanted to do anything to help your family, no matter how morally ambiguous it is, while Wonpil thought that doing the right thing was of the utmost importance, no exceptions. Now, facing off in court years later, all the old wounds gets torn open again and things finally come to a head.

A/N: *long fart noise* this fic had the potential to be something good but I fucked it up and I’m beyond even caring.

Warnings: inconsistent writing if you’ve ever seen one, kinda femdom, unhealthy as per usual, sad little story.

The neutral, slightly intimidating mask you put on everyday was the one most people were familiar with by now. You rarely showed your real emotions anymore, not since you had lost him. His departure brought on a profound change in your life. There had already been a rift growing between who you wanted to be and who you had to be in order to survive, but when he left he took any remaining idealism left in you with him. It’s funny that the reason he left you was because he couldn’t handle your diverging moral standings, yet it was precisely his departure that cemented the turn you had taken.

Now, with him standing opposite you in the courtroom, fighting for the opposing team, you feel your mask slipping. It was hard seeing him like this. Even though it’s been years already, not having him break into that breathtaking smile of his that was like an ingrained reflex as soon as his eyes would meet yours was disquieting. Now he just frowns and looks away; his big, beautiful eyes that used to be filled to the brim with a sort of dreamy goodness were now empty and tired.

Needless to say, you weren’t on your best game. You could hardly concentrate at all during the trial, and you can bet your ass that your boss knew about your abysmal performance before it even ended. As soon as you were out of the courtroom, he was calling to give you crap about it and condescendingly remarking that if you couldn’t handle such a big case then you should’ve left it to someone who actually knew what he was doing, emphasis on the ‘He’. You assured him that everything was under control and that this wouldn’t happen again. You were just caught off guard, not that you dared tell him that last part. This was a huge case and it could either make or break your career. You couldn’t afford to get distracted by the man you had once thought to be the love of your life, and might still do…

You had to do this for your family. But it seems the man in question intends to put your resolve to the test.

You don’t know how he found you. Perhaps he had followed you out of the courthouse. Did he hear you talking on the phone to your boss? You sure hope not, not when his mere presence was forcing you to face the fact that you never got over him after all, and you didn’t need him to see that. You had hoped that the time and distance would harden your heart and heal the wounds he had inflicted upon it but all it took was one look in his eyes for them to get ripped wide open again.

If nothing else, you wanted to keep your pride. He doesn’t get to break your heart and see you still broken up about it all these years later. So you put on your mask again and smirk at him, “Good work today, Pili.”

His frown deepens at the term of endearment you used to call him when you were together. You suppose you aren’t allowed to use it anymore, which is precisely why you do. “Too bad it won’t do you any good. You always did have a soft spot for the hopeless cases.”

Wonpil puffs his chest out, subconsciously trying to look bigger under your mocking gaze. “Our case isn’t hopeless.”

“Yeah sure, whatever you say, Pili.” You roll your eyes. You should end it there, tell him you have no time for him and leave to go work harder on your case to take him and the people he represents down. But you haven’t made a levelheaded decision since the moment he came back into your life and you just can’t resist adding, “You shouldn’t be wasting your skill on these people. They’re never gonna win. Join my company. I’m sure I can find you a place.”

Wonpil’s face contorts in disgust, “You think I would ever be a part of a company like yours? You kill people!”

“My company doesn’t kill people.” You reply half-heartedly, not really up to defending your employers out of the courtroom.

“Maybe not directly but the chemicals they pollute the environment with has led to the illness and death of countless people. That’s on your hands.”

You’re not surprised that he insists on making you complicit in the actions of the company you’re representing. Wonpil always did have an absolute sense of justice, from the CEO to the janitor, everyone was equally responsible in his eyes.

 “Be careful what you accuse people of, Pili. This could get you in real trouble once my company wins the lawsuit. And they will win.” You smile sadly, “They always win.”

You walk closer to him and reach out for his hand tentatively. You’re surprised when he lets you, and you take a moment to just hold it, feeling the familiar, yet almost-forgotten, weight of it in your own hands. When you lace your fingers together, they fit as perfectly as they did years ago, the heat of him permeating through yours like blood through a corpse revived. 

You know you couldn’t let yourself get carried away for long. You needed to say what you had to say and then withdraw back into yourself when he inevitably rejects you. Rubbing your thumb over the web of skin between his thumb and index, you take a few moments to steady your breath as you willfully shed years worth of mental defenses to allow him to gaze onto the real you, naked from any pretenses and completely vulnerable against the bottomless darkness you see in his own eyes. 

“I’ve missed you so much, you can’t even know. I… I still want you.” You weren’t sure if it was just your voice that was trembling or your entire body—you were holding too tightly onto his hand to be able to tell. “It’s not too late for us. We can still be together. What you’re doing right now is admirable, fighting for those who can’t fight for themselves. You’ve got the most beautiful soul I’ve ever seen… but it’s a losing battle. There is no hope for them, but there is for us. We can have a good life together.”

His lips press together into a thin line and he yanks his hand back, almost throwing you forward when you don’t react fast enough to untangle your fingers as he steps away from you, looking disgusted at the mere thought of what you’re suggesting. “If you really think that I’d not only abandon these people but actually work against them then you don’t know me at all.”

“Oh, I know you.” You look down at your now empty hands, muttering tiredly, “I just hoped that you might’ve changed.”

“And I wish you didn’t. I don’t even know who you are anymore. You’re nothing like the girl I once fell in love with. You’re a monster.”

You let out a bark of laughter to hide the stabbing pain his words delivered right into the center of your chest, cutting up your tattered heart all over again. “And did you follow me all this way just to say that? Aw, Pili, you shouldn’t have.”

He glares at you, utter contempt displayed on his face.

“I hate you.” He curses out before he leaves, not sparing you a second glance, and for that you were thankful. You could barely stomach the fact that the broken woman who was openly sobbing in the middle of the street in broad daylight was you—you didn’t need him to see that.

___________________________

Just like you hadn’t expected to ever face off with him in a courtroom, you also never expected him to show up at your place only days after your less-than-sweet reunion.

“What are you doing here?” You stand with your arms folded over your chest, feeling resentful that he’s forcing you to deal with the heartache he brought with him into your own residence. “How did you even know where my apartment is?”

“You’ve messed with my damn head.” He accuses, looking deeply agitated as he paces back and forth in your living room.

The audacity of this man! He sought you out first, then he rejected you, and now he barges into your home and claims you are messing with him?

You plant your body in his path to stop his pacing, and ask, putting emphasis on each word, “Why. are. you. here?”

He stares at you for a second, exasperated and contemplating what to say, but each time a sentence starts forming, he bites it back abruptly. Huffing, he runs his hand through his hair haphazardly and tries to get past you to start pacing again.

But you jump into action, your hands shooting out to grab him and hold him in place. You won’t let him play games with you. You won’t be able to handle it.

In the process of holding on to him to try to keep him in place, you had gotten much closer to him in proximity. With your arms almost enveloping him, your heart starts beating erratically. This was the closest you’d been to him in years, and by the looks of it, Wonpil wasn’t completely unfazed by it either.

“What do you want from me, Wonpil?” You ask, suddenly feeling weary as if all the fight has seeped out of your body. 

His eyes flit down to your lips as you talk, and they linger there even after you’re done, giving you your answer. Wonpil was never particularly good at hiding his feelings, something he would readily admit to if asked, and you take advantage of it.

You raise your hand to his face carefully as if he’s a frightened animal you don’t want to scare off. When he feels your hand on his cheek, he finally looks you in the eyes again, and you feel a twinge of pity at the helplessness you see in his gaze.

Taking in a deep breath, you ask slowly, “Do you want to kiss me, Wonpil?”

You knew you shouldn’t be doing this; it will only open up your wounds further, but you’ve never gotten to say goodbye to him, and you knew that if you miss this-- probably last-- chance to be with him, you will live to regret it even more.

You’re so lost in your own head that you miss the subtle nod Wonpil gives you and, antsy by your lack of response, he makes the first move, pressing his lips to your own.

It’s an awkward kiss, tight-lipped and uncoordinated as Wonpil is unsure of what he is allowed to do, but feeling the urgency to touch you anyway. His hands are all over you, but not in a good way. They would barely touch a part of you before they moved on to the next, leaving you feeling unsatisfied.

Deciding to take the reins—which was par for the course back during your relationship anyway—you grab his hands and hold them behind his back, making him whine when you break the kiss. “Don’t whine. You don’t have the right to.”

He bites his lip, stifling anymore protests from coming out. Pulling on his arm, you lead him to your bedroom and push him on the bed. He tries to pull you down with him but you shake him off. Again, he starts whining but with a sharp raise of your eyebrow, he pipes down immediately.

Grabbing the hem of your oversized shirt, you cock your head at him. “Do you want me to take this off?”

“Yes, please.” He breathes out before you’re even done talking.

You slide the shirt up your body slowly, teasingly, making sure to give Wonpil a show. With the shirt off, your breasts are entirely exposed for you to play with them and tease Wonpil some more. Pushing them together, messaging them, twisting the nipples lightly, you do everything you know will drive him crazy until he’s biting down hard on his lip so he wouldn’t piss you off, but you could see from the obvious bulge in his pants and the way his right leg was bouncing up and down impatiently that he was getting needy.

You give your breasts one last squeeze before you slide your hands down your abdomen and towards the waistline of your shorts, pushing it down on one side only to pull it back up and do the same thing with the other side.

“Please.”

“Please, what? You want me to take this off too?”

“Yes.”

“But I thought I was a disgusting monster and you can’t even look at me. You have no problem with it now that you want to get your dick wet, huh?”

He averts his eyes, having the audacity to look ashamed and it pisses you the fuck off. 

You grab his jaw, making him face you, and hiss down at him. “Either you grow some fucking balls and face the implications of your own desire or you get the fuck out of my sight.” 

You needed him to voice out his desire so he’d admit that he’s equally responsible for what is happening. You’re not going to let him paint you as a monster seducing poor, helpless him. He wants this too, and he needs to be held accountable for that.

“What do you want me to say?” He asks, entirely too chagrined than he had any right to be. 

“That you’re a fucking hypocrite.” You spit, astonished at how disgusted you were with him, while still wanting to be one with him. Your whole relationship is a mess, and you’re convinced that either it was never meant to be, or that the gods themselves are jealous of your love and are trying to hurt you.

“I’m… I’m a hypocrite. There, are you happy?” He challenges, but you just let out a tired sigh, almost having expected him to deny it and put an end to this—to tell you that this is insane and you’re insane, but he validates your insanity and now you can’t back down.

No. None of this makes you happy. You haven’t been happy ever since he left you.

You take your shorts and panties off unceremoniously and straddle him, staying still for a moment to see if he’ll try something, but his hands stay balled to his sides as he awaits your permission to touch you, so you give it to him. “Go ahead. You can touch.”

His hands immediately go to your breasts, touching you in the exact same way you were just touching yourself, and you laugh. “Aw, Pili, you wanted it that bad?”

He frowns in that adorably pouty way he unconsciously does sometimes, and it makes your smile falter, the memory of something you used to have but is just out of your reach now is all too painful.

He forcefully takes you out of your thoughts when his mouth latches onto one of your breasts, placing kisses all over it and sucking on your nipple. You moan out, a hand reaching for his hair and automatically tugging on it the way you know he likes, which only makes him needier, one of his hands eagerly moving down to your pussy, and the moan that leaves him lets you know just how excited he is to find you dripping. Too impatient to wait, his fingers move down to your hole right away. When a finger enters you, he’s the one pulling back with a throaty moan.

You chuckle breathlessly, feeling yourself quivering around his finger. “Does my pussy feel that good, Pili?”

He nods, pumping his finger in and out of you, making you gasp as you start unbuttoning his shirt. “Tell me what it feels like.” 

“Tight. Wet. Soft.”

“Hmm, and did you miss it?” You slip his shirt off his shoulders, forcing him to remove his hands from you, but as soon as the shirt is off, his hands are back on you again, one grabbing a handful of your breast and the other two fingers deep in you.“Do you miss how it feels around your cock?”

“Yeah.” He closes his eyes and you know that he’s imagining it. 

“Do you want to feel it again?”

“Yes.” His eyes snap open again, full of silent pleas.

You push him backwards until he’s lying down in the middle of the bed with you straddling him, his cock snug between your wet folds as you slowly rub up and down against it. With your hands holding his arms over his head, he looks up at you, gaze brimming with need as he holds his breath and waits, but you don’t give it to him yet.

“Look at you. You were acting all high and mighty earlier but now you’re willing to do anything to get inside this pussy, huh?” You taunt, rubbing yourself with the tip of his dick.

When he doesn’t say anything, you lean down to bite his collarbone, making him yelp. “Answer me, Pili.”

“Yes, please, give it to me.” He nods emphatically, throwing his head back and crying out as you sink down on him. 

As soon as you have him all the way inside of you, you know you are in trouble. God, he fills you up so good. Everywhere his cock touched inside of you burns with pleasure and you can’t even help yourself; you ride him hard and fast, desperate to feel the kind of pleasure you haven’t felt in years. Everything is just different with him, the way he fits inside of you, the needy, almost reverent look on his face, his choked off moans, they all work you up to a frenzy. 

“Does it feel good, Pili?”

“Yes. So, so good.”

“I bet you’ve been fantasizing about this for years... just lying in bed, fucking your own spit-covered hand and imagining it was me taking you.” 

“Yeah, y-yeah…” He sniffles, lower lip trembling as he readily admits to it.

“You’re gonna cry?” You spit out, suddenly enraged, and come to a stop. “Fuck, you’re so pathetic.” 

“No! I’m sorry. I’ll stop. Please keep going.” 

“No. I won’t let you twist this narrative into you being the victim.” You fall back onto the bed and pull him up over you. “If you want me, take me.”

The muscle in his jaw jumps as he considers his options for a second, and you lay completely still under him, waiting for him to make the decision on his own, half-wishing he’d stop this madness. But he doesn’t.

Grunting, his hands grab your hips as he pushes his length back inside you. It only takes a few unexpectedly sharp thrusts for you to cooperate and wrap your arms and legs around him. Goosebumps erupt all over his skin when you pull at the hair at the nape of his neck, the shaky moan your action elicits causing heat to start gathering in your belly once again. You stare up at him in hunger, admiring how sexy he looks as the pleasure overtakes his features.

“Shit…shit, you feel so good.” Wonpil rasps out, his eyes squeezing shut as his thrusts turn sloppy. “ I can’t hold on much longer.”

“Don’t you dare.” You snap at him, your nails digging red trails down his back, making his hips stutter. 

“Please, I can’t hold it.” He shakes his head, desperate to get you to let him cum.

“No.” You hiss, silencing him with a kiss. You swallow his whines as your hands grab his ass and force him to keep fucking you. The more he squirms, the more his hips grind against you, rubbing coarsely against your clit and bringing you oh-so-close to your orgasm. 

But—seemingly just a second away from release—Wonpil goes rigid under you, his body freezing up too hard to allow you to move him anymore. His mouth tears away from your own in a loud moan as his dick twitches inside you and fills you up with his hot cum.

You can’t believe it. You were so, so close. Frustration and disappointment fill up the spaces the receding pleasure leaves behind.

“I told you to stop.” You hear him say meekly, and you sigh as you’re left tense and unfulfilled, just like always. 

“It’s fine.” You mutter darkly, pushing him off you, and Wonpil’s face falls, shame spreading all over it.

You know your reaction is hurting him. Wonpil hated not pleasing you. He took it as a personal failure if you were even the slightest bit unhappy with his performance. His desire to please and your desire to be pleased are what brought you together in the first place many years ago. But honestly, all you can think about right now is that mind-blowing orgasm you were just robbed of because he couldn’t hold back just a little bit more.   

But before the last bit of pleasure inside you recedes from your body, it is forced back in when Wonpil, still half-hard and sheathed inside you, starts moving again, fucking his cum into your sensitive pussy.

“What are you doing?” Your mouth hangs open in shock and pleasure, and you watch him grit his teeth and set a frantic pace. As his cock starts hardening inside of you again, he’s able to fuck you harder and harder, the determined look on his face the sexiest thing you’ve ever seen.

His moans are loud, and you can’t tell if they’re from pleasure or pain as Wonpil never once lets up his assault, hitting just the right spot that has you seeing white. When his thumb flicks your clit, it is over for you, your hands flying out to grab his face and pull him down into a searing kiss as you cum. 

When you pull back from the kiss, signalling the end of your orgasm, Wonpil collapses into a sweaty mess next to you, still clinging to your body by wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his face in your neck as you both catch your breath.

“What’s so funny?” He perks his head up, asking as you start shaking with laughter in his arms. But the more you look at him, the harder you laugh. This is just all so absurd.

Wonpil watches you uneasily. He needs assurance, something that he had always relied on you to provide for him, but you can’t do that this time. 

You come down from your laughter fit with a deep sigh. “Get out.”

He’s taken aback at your sudden coldness. This isn’t what he expected, not what he was used to from you, and you almost start laughing again. Is he really that clueless? Did he expect things to be just like they were before after what he’s done?

His eyes flit between yours, searching for a comfort he won’t find in them. “But—but… aren’t we going to talk about this?"

“Talk about what, Wonpil?” You ask in exasperation, “Have you changed your mind about my work?”

“No, but—”

“But you want me to make the sacrifice for you.” You finish his sentence for him. “This is why you’re here, isn’t it? You refuse to give up your job but you expect me to give up mine for you.”

“It’s the right thing to do.” He bristles, sitting up.

“I don’t care about the right thing. All I care about is my family.”

His face hardens at that, and through gritted teeth, he says, “Your family isn’t going to starve if you work at another firm.”

“Quality of life isn’t measured by whether you starve or not. I want them to have a good life.” You don’t know why you even bother anymore, he’s never going to listen. “You wouldn’t understand.”

He tears himself away from you and gets up, angrily putting on his clothes. “Yes because I’m just a poor orphan boy who will never understand what family means. Isn’t that right?”

“Pili… you know I didn’t mean it like that.” You unconsciously reach out for him but he jumps away.

“Yes, you did. You always pitied me for not having a family.” Pain twists Wonpil’s pretty features. “You know, for a while, I actually thought you could be my family.”

“No, Pili. I couldn’t have.” You sigh sadly, the deepening look of hurt on his face cutting you up. “Because you left me. And family never leaves.”

His mouth opens and closes like he wants to say something but doesn't even know what. Collecting himself, Wonpil scoffs and turns towards the door.

“Yeah, like that.” You mutter, collapsing back on the bed as you hear the sound of your front door opening and slamming shut. 

___________________________________

You know it is wrong but you can’t stay away from each other. Now that you have had a taste of the forbidden after years of having sworn off each other, you couldn’t find it in you to stop.

You find yourself in each other’s beds again and again, hurling accusations at each other and fucking your emotions out until you’re too tired to do anything but sleep, each time getting more and more exhausted until you stop trying all together, just blocking out everything and focusing on the here and now as if nothing else existed outside of your respective bedrooms. 

Your nights have been sleepless ever since he's gotten back into your life, and not just for the obvious reason that he’s the person you thought was the love of all your lives, past or present. No, many nights were spent just staring at each other, no words uttered for fear of disturbing this fragile improbability that brought you back together, or holding each other so gingerly as if you were made of matter and antimatter and your meeting could annihilate not only yourselves but the entire world you’ve built around you. 

It’s a bubble and you know it, the translucent shell that surrounds you gleaming all rainbow-like when the light of forgotten dreams hits it just right. It sways and wobbles, signaling its impending explosion any moment now. And yet, you stay curled up around each other as if you can’t see the surface tension on the verge of breaking.

Every once in a while, one of you would lean forward and press their lips against the other’s, and you’d close your eyes and pretend like these past years have been nothing but a bad dream and you’re still college students, young and lost and unsure of everything in the world except for the notion that love is eternal and that you have already found it in each other.

You wonder what you’d look like now to your past selves, having gained all the conviction and knowledge you would’ve never thought you would possess, but having lost the one thing that made any of it worth a damn. You bet your past selves would hold each other and cry at the sight of the broken you holding onto the jagged pieces of your once-sweet notion with bleeding hearts and crushed souls.

Tears trickle down your face, and Wonpil reaches up to wipe them with the backs of his fingers, pressing his lips to yours again when the branching stream reaches even your lips.

Pulling back ever so slightly, he whispers to you and to the dying universe around you, the vibrations of his voice reaching your lips through the tiny distance between you, sounding choked up like he had begun crying too, “I wish we could stay here forever, just forget about everyone and be forgotten by them.”

You sigh and wrap yourself around him, his starry eyes shuttering closed and a soft pout forming on his lips as he drifts off to sleep, just like old times. And you're left alone to wonder... if you could do it all over again, would you have chosen differently?

______________________________

You knew something was off. Despite the time and distance that have whittled down your sense of him, you still knew that something was off. Your body had picked up on so many little things—the way his eyes glossed over when he would force himself to face you, his excessively soft touches that resembled those of a volatile lover silently apologizing for his latest outburst, the lingering looks he gave you as if he was memorizing every little detail of you before you went away—it just took your brain too long to make sense of it all.

Or maybe you just didn't want to believe it. You got too greedy and wanted to live in your fantasy world just a little bit longer, and it cost you everything. 

Looking at him now, you think he’s saying something to you but every word is muffled as if you were submerged in water. He gets agitated, shouting something again and again that gets just a little clearer every time as he forces you back to the surface and you register that it’s your own name.

When you blink, your gaze finally focusing on him, he breathes a sigh of relief. “You’re scaring me.”

“I wish I had never met you.” Your sentence is slow and raspy like the ghostly murmur of someone fished out of water.

“Don’t say that.” He whimpers, "I had to do it." He says it like he means it, like he really couldn’t stop himself from betraying you, using you, ruining your life. "You said it yourself, we never would've won. It was the only way. These people depended on me."

"And what about me?" You rasp, tears stinging your eyes. "I loved you."

"And I love you." He tries to hold you but you push him away.

"They fired me.” You inform him monotonously, “They had me blacklisted to make sure I would never find a job in this field again."

Of course they did. What company will want you now that you've shown yourself not to be reliable? You slept with your rival and allowed him to steal crucial documents that could jeopardize the entire case from right under your nose. Your stupid amateur mistake could cost the company millions.

"How am I going to provide for my family now?" You moan, not really asking him.

"You could join us. It's not a big pay but—”

Your hand goes to pull at your hair in frustration, “God, do you ever shut the fuck up?”

"I'm sorry.” He holds his head down, sobbing.

"No, you don’t get to cry about ruining my life! You don’t get to feel sorry for yourself! You don’t—” You stop abruptly, unable to breathe. Cradling your head now, you lament, "Oh god, what am I gonna do now?"

"I don't know."

"No, you never know." You say bitterly. "I don’t want to ever see your face again."

His head whips up, "Don't say that..."

“Go.”

"I didn't mean for all of this to happen--"

"Go." You shriek and he flinches back. His lower lips tremble as he tries to hold his tears back to no avail. In a shaky voice, he says, "I'll give you some time to calm down but I'll be back. I'll fix this."

"God, Wonpil," You suck in a shaky breath, "for once in your life, I wish you'd leave it alone."

He jerks his head away, wiping at his tears furiously, "I'll see you later."

_____________________________

You struggle to hold back tears as you wait inside your cramped studio apartment. You don’t know how much longer you can stand to do this— lie to your parents about getting fired and blacklisted, telling them that you quit for moral differences, accepting money from the man who ruined your life just so they wouldn’t find out for a little while longer.

But you couldn’t do anything to help yourself, let alone support your family without Wonpil’s charity. The only jobs you are able to get now are in the service industry and those barely pay your rent and living expenses. You couldn’t even go back to your hometown and your family for fear that they’d figure out the truth, and you just couldn’t let that happen.

You knew your father would insist on getting back to work in order to help support the family. You barely even had him convinced that his condition doesn’t allow him to work and that he needs to rest. If he finds out you not only lost your job but also any hope for a future one in that field, he’d go back to work right away, and that could very possibly kill him.

Your siblings’ future now lies unknown. The eldest of your siblings after you is a senior now, and soon you’ll have to tell her that she isn’t going to college like you promised her she would. She has to abandon her dreams in order to get a job to help provide for the family, and as your other siblings grow older, they too would follow in her footsteps; a family that came from dirt and will die in it, that’s what Wonpil’s ideals have cost you.

After everything you’ve done, after all you’ve gone through, you’re still nothing. It’s funny that Wonpil is fighting for the poor and innocent when he’s the one who has proven to you once and for all that the rich will stay rich and the poor will stay poor and under the feet of the rich.

The case he betrayed you for was a loss in the end. After a long, tedious trial, his clients were forced to settle because they couldn’t afford to pay for a trial that kept getting prolonged, a strategy the rich and powerful employed in order not to lose doomed cases, in the end making the poor people poorer and worse off than they were before. That’s what Wonpil does. He makes people hope and believe that maybe, just maybe the world isn’t as shitty as it seems, only to shatter them completely when he can’t follow through on his beautiful promises. He breaks them because he made them hope.

Hearing the doorbell ring, you get up to answer it, moving mechanically. After you swing the door open, you stand in the way so Wonpil wouldn’t be able to barge in like he tries to sometimes.

He hands you an envelope which you take with a heavy heart. Every envelope you accept is a debt piled on you that you’ll live the rest of your life paying back.

“I’m working three jobs right now but I hope to find something with a better pay soon so I can start paying you back.”

“Oh, you don’t need to do that.” He rushes to say, but you cut him off. “Yes, I do.”

He sighs and stares at the floor, fiddling with his finger. It annoyed the hell out of you. “Is there something you want?”

His head shoots up, eyes wide at having been caught.

“I—“ He clears his throat after he chokes on the word. “I miss you.”

You hate yourself because of how his words still affect you, how you wish you could fall into his arms and let him comfort you until there are no more tears left in your eyes.

But you won’t cry. You won’t let yourself be vulnerable in front of him. Never again. 

“Goodnight, Wonpil.” You say coldly, closing the door in his face before he can say anything else.

______________________________

[star-killer-md]

Actus Reus, Mens Rea

@contesa-lui-alucard asked:

Hey hey happy sleepover my friend!! If it’s alright with you, I have two prompts from the Smut list that I’d love to see you combine for... mob Kylo and lawyer reader! Oh snap!! 15 & 37, if you please. If not, no worries, I still hope you have an awesome sleepover 😁 (“Make it hurt, baby.” + “Lay back and touch yourself. I want to watch.”)

Anon asked:

hello, may i request clingy/possessive kylo,, thank you

Thank you lovlies for your requests and sorry from the bottom of my depressed ass heart that it took me so fucking long. Anyway here ya go, hope you enjoy some mobster Kylo deliciousness. I’m so excited you liked him Contesa, and I hope you’re into it as well too nonny! Sorry it got long, I truly have no control over that. 

And thank you so much to @sacklersdoll for reading over this for me!

Word Count: 4.4k

Warnings: Angst (its me), Smut (its me), mentions of predator/prey dynamic (mostly as metaphor), possessive Kylo Ren, semi-public sex, no pronouns for the reader by they are afab, dominant Kylo Ren, some brat vibes, Kylo Ren is not nice, allusions to guns, some sorta stalking behavior

Ship: Mob Boss!Kylo Ren x Lawyer!Reader

Summary: You’ve started to take on some pro bono clients as a favor to a friend and Kylo Ren is Not A Fan™ of all the attention this guy has been paying you. After a few months of consulting on the side, you’re beginning to wonder if life working for a mob boss is something you’re really cut out for. Though you quickly learn that you very well may have passed the point of no return when Kylo shows up at your office to remind you just who exactly you work for. 

“I really can’t thank you enough.”

You shook the woman’s hands and returned her smile. Her son stayed quiet, looking at the ground, but mumbled his thanks as well. He was a good kid. Just pissed off the wrong neighbor. One of those ‘get off my lawn,’ ‘good ole American dream’ types who thought welfare was a sign of the devil, and had it out for everyone in the lower tax brackets. 

“Really, it’s no problem,” you walked them to the door, leaving her your business card. “I’ll see you both at the courthouse on Monday.” 

Evan was waiting in your office when you returned. His patent leather shoes rested precariously on the corner of your desk and you knocked them off with a huff. 

“See you’ve made yourself at home,” you said, crossing your arms and staring down at him in your chair. 

He shrugged and stood under your scrutiny, moving around to take the seat across from you. Evan Goodman was an old friend from undergrad. You often got the impression he was still that same cocky frat boy in the head. Still flashed the ‘my daddy has more money than you’ smile on occasion when he really wanted to get under your skin. With his slicked back hair, unnervingly straight teeth, and his annoying prosperity despite never putting in much effort it was somewhat shocking the two still spoke. He was simply not the type of person who had ever needed to try. Success came naturally to him, and much to your dismay.

“What can I say? You’re a very gracious host,” he mused and leaned forward on the desk. “So, how did it go?”

You sighed, “They’ll be alright, might get saddled with a fine but the charges aren’t that serious.” 

“Good, Rosa’s an old friend. I would have helped her out myself, but not really my deal ya know?”

“Yeah, Mr. Tax Attorney, I get it.” 

Evan was kind of a dick, but he was also the kind of friend who would sit on the bathroom floor with you, hold your hair back and sing horrendous parody versions of ABBA no matter who heard. So you couldn’t hate him entirely. That also meant that when he came to you with cases like this, a favor for a friend or whatever the situation may be, you had a hard time refusing. 

It was also a convenient front for you not-so-legal legal work you’d been invested in for the past few months.

“Seriously, I know I’ve been asking a lot of you recently,” he flashed you that god awful grin and kicked his feet up again. “You can tell me to fuck off if it’s too much.” 

He had been coming to you for pro bono work with increasing frequency, especially over the past month or so, but again, you didn’t wholly mind it. You went into this kind of work for a reason. Though, you were starting to get the feeling that a certain, brooding, less than lawfully abiding businessman did not feel the same. 

Kylo Ren dealt frequently with the shady, black market underbelly of capitalist society, but you were less accustomed to his world and not completely ready to throw yourself to the hounds just yet.

You had already missed more than a few meetings and canceled on dinner tonight to meet with Rosa. To be fair, it wasn’t as if he’d made any indication this ill-defined whatever-it-was going on between the two of you was anything serious. And you were only his consultant, for now, so this took precedent anyway. At least that’s what you tried to convince yourself of. Definitely not a way to avoid thinking about fucking your boss who also happened to be in with the mob. 

Definitely not.  

“I wouldn’t have agreed to help if I couldn’t manage it,” you yawned softly and stood to collect your things. 

It was late and you were beginning to fantasize about how soft and warm your sheets would be. If you got back in time you could pop them in the dryer and get in an episode or two before bed. 

“Hey, let me at least buy you dinner or something since I kept you out so late,” Evan parked his skinny frame in your path to the doorway. 

“You’re going to apologize for keeping me out late, by keeping me out even later?”

“Do you want free food or not?”

Pursing your lips, you stared at him for a few moments. He really did know all your weaknesses. You had skipped out on meeting with Mr. Ren—or Kylo or sir or whatever the hell you were supposed to call him now—already tonight, however, Evan was sure to take you somewhere nice and it wouldn’t be so morally repugnant if it was just as a ‘thank you….’

“Okay, fine,” you conceded and let him lead you out to the parking garage, locking the office up behind you. 

***

The next morning you stumbled past reception in a haze. Both from lack of sleep, and the bitingly cold winds battering your building despite the neighboring high rises blocking the brunt of the gale. The young woman at the desk informed you tersely that a Mr. Goodman was already waiting for you in your office and that you should really get here on time if you were expecting clients this early. 

You agreed that, yes you probably should but, you know, “trains and all that mess,” and tried not to judge her too harshly. After all, she was the barrier between you and the hundreds of calls this place received daily. 

Before slipping through the door with your name plate, you hung your coat on the rack and switched your phone on. It’d died on you last night amidst the allure of fancy, late night dinner and your sleep deprivation riddled brain had not cared enough to plug it in before bed. Fuck Amazon, but thank god for its speedy delivery of portable charges. 

You chewed your lip as the lock screen came to life. One missed call and a text. Both, of course from the most anxiety inducing sender, Kylo Ren. Because why would it be anyone else? His name menacing even typed out in standard black font. 

The text read:

Meet me at 8am.

It was very much like him—a command with punctuation and absolutely no details. The message receipt showed it was sent two hours ago, and it was already half past eight. Shit. Your fingers shook as you pulled up his contact and called. Every interaction left you coursing with adrenaline. Even now, miles away listening to the dial tone was nerve-wracking. Your heart pounded, hands slick in their grip on your phone. Maybe it was because you were never sure where you stood with him. Maybe it was because he was handsome and he knew it. Strong and he knew it. Intimidating and mysterious and closer in some ways to a Greek god than a man. He was all encompassing, and filled every available space in any room he occupied. 

Sometimes you thought you might choke on his presence. 

It rang once, twice, three times before cutting out completely. You stared down at the blank screen, biting your lip and shooting off a quick text. You were sorry, something important had come up, you would meet him the second it was convenient. 

Evan slapped you heartily on the back when you came into the room. He was holding a bouquet of flowers, evergreen with small white blossoms. 

“So, how many hours did you manage last night?” he asked, smiling his shit eating smile and seemingly unaffected despite the fact that he had to be running on just as little sleep as you.  

“I’m not even sure at this point,” you groaned as you tossed your bags down behind the little metal desk. “Time ceases to exist when you take trains past midnight.”

“Fair enough. Hey look,” Evan waved the greenery in your face, “courtesy of Rosa’s shop. She insisted I bring you something as thanks. I figured you could put them out in the front or something to brighten things up.” 

“They’re lovely. Please tell me you’re only here as a glorified delivery boy.”

His shoulders slumped at your lack of amusement, but before he could quip back the landline in your office rang. You answered, holding a finger towards Evan and leaning against the edge of the desk. It was the receptionist, Jess was her name? Maybe? You could never remember, someone else always addressed the holiday gift cards anyway. 

“There’s someone here to see you at the front desk,” she clipped, almost more exasperated than before. 

You told her you’d be right there and hung up. Evan grabbed his coat as you headed out, holding the door for you and following into the hall. 

“I’ll leave you to it if you’re busy, but give me a call after Monday and tell me how it goes,” he continued rambling as you came out into the front.

You had a smart comeback prepared, something about how simple the case was, he should have more faith in you, he was the reason you were busy in the first place, etc…but every word turned to ashes on your tongue when you saw him. 

Kylo Ren, standing right there at the desk and glaring at your receptionist. His suit was dark blue and ironed to perfection. Each leg was creased perfectly down the front and the jacket sat flawlessly on his wide set shoulders. He was a wall of unimaginably expensive fabric and what looked concerning like barely contained rage. You could see it in the twitch of his eye, the set of his jaw, and in the way his gaze landed on you the second you walked in. 

The way a predator immediately hones in on its prey. 

You froze just feet from him in the lobby, floundering like a fish on a hook. 

Evan, for his part, seemed not to notice the tension at all and continued to say his long winded goodbyes, placing the flowers in your hands and completely unaware of the slow, measured tightening of Kylo’s massive hands into fists at his side. 

“I’m free on Monday evening so we should—” 

“She’ll be busy.” 

Evan frowned, turning to face the man standing before him, “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” Kylo’s voice was a dark thing, low and rumbling, “She will be otherwise occupied.” 

His words were punctuated by a step towards you, one paw of a hand easily gripping your entire jaw. Lucky he did too, otherwise it would have dropped straight to the floor when he shot one last cobra strike glare in Evan’s direction, and pressed his mouth to yours. Right there. In the lobby. For everyone to see.  

The absolute bastard.

His lips were pillow plump and softer than the silk lining of his suit—and even through the surge of shock and embarrassment and more than a touch of anger—you felt your heart throb at the way he licked into your mouth. 

The flowers tumbled from your hands onto the floor as everything in you went limp under his touch. This was nowhere near the first time you’d tasted him, but it was like this every time. Like drinking ambrosia. An otherworldly experience. 

But that didn’t stop the sharp pain of his crushing grip on your arm, the way he nearly lifted your feet off the floor when he pulled away to drag along behind him. You could hear Evan spluttering in the hall behind you, the receptionist going back to clacking at her keyboard as if nothing had happened. 

When Kylo opened your office door he just about threw you inside. You tripped as he tipped you in, stumbling and catching yourself on the edge of your desk. The power behind his hand alone was undeniable. You shuddered at the thought of the array of purple fingerprints he would leave behind. It made your mouth dry and your heart sink. Confusing and delicious. 

And left you seething nonetheless. 

“What the fuck was that?!” you were not calm, so you didn’t attempt any semblance of it. 

“You didn’t answer me,” he said, level as he always was. 

The quiet before the storm and all that. 

“About the meeting? I tried to call, my phone died—”

“Because you were out catching trains at all hours of the night, I’m aware.” 

You paused, glaring at the wall of muscle between you and the door, “How did you know that?”

“So you’re not denying it?”

Kylo stalked towards you like a beast in his tailored suit and polished leather shoes like talons. You could hear your heartbeat, hear the blood rushing in your ears. Just like a rabbit in the sightline of a hawk, you were clearly being hunted. 

“Why would I deny something I’m not trying to hide?” your voice came out horse as he caged you between the desk and his chest, arms on either side to block any route of escape. 

“No you are certainly not adept at subtlety,” he said and you couldn’t take your eyes off the way his tongue moved behind his teeth. “This is the fifth time that idiot in the hall has distracted you from work.”

“That’s not an answer,” you tried to spit the words but his eyes were boring into you. The honey of them spilled down your spine and made you shiver. “How did you know? You are not entitled to any information pertaining to my personal life, regardless.” 

“Watch your mouth,” he growled. “Entitlement has no part in this.”

You were entering dangerous territory, though stopping curiously did not occur to you.

“I don’t think you have the right to be throwing out commands right now, not after that display.”

“Have you forgotten who you work for?” Kylo hissed at you, hands wrapped around the metal of your desk so hard you thought it might warp under his fingers. 

“Of course not,” you desperately tried to keep your voice down lest anyone get even more a spectacle. 

“Then what is this?” one hand left the desk and pulled a phone from inside his jacket. 

The screen lit up, and you looked in horror at pictures of yourself. Pictures of yourself from last night. Pictures of yourself from last night at dinner with Evan, interspersed with shots of you crossing the street, waiting on the train platform, and stumbling back into your apartment. Each was clearer than you’d expected, presumably from some insanely expensive surveillance equipment. You had been out for hours, and you had been watched the whole time. 

You narrowed your eyes, flicking back and forth between Kylo’s face—the graceful bridge of his nose pointed down at you—and gaped. 

“You had me followed…” you breathed the words into the slowly shrinking space between your bodies. 

He simply nodded, as if, somehow, you were foolish for not having considered this before. Perhaps you were. Perhaps you had no idea what you had gotten yourself into. Perhaps you had signed on for much more than a paycheck when you agreed to work for Kylo Ren. 

“I can’t have my employees getting distracted.”

Kylo slowly drifted ever closer, shoulders bent so he was eye level with you. He pressed further into the desk, pinning you between his body and the hard surface that bit into your ass. Something long and thick and hard nudged your thigh. 

“I don’t know why you though having me followed was necessary—” 

“You’re an arrogant little slut who needs to be reminded of your priorities,” his hand snatched your leg and wrenched it open so he could stand between them, “ I am not something you do on the side.” 

You could hear the way his teeth grit out the words, the way they formed as a growl deep in his beast’s throat. The hand still settled on the desk, skimmed up your hip and chest, his fingers 

biting into your jaw. 

“Do you understand me?”

Your lips were shut tight in a thin line, eyes wide and staring up like the prey you were. The silence only provoked him more. Snarling, two thick fingers wrenched your mouth open, pressing hard on your tongue and making you gag around them. 

“Answer.” 

Kylo Ren almost always spoke in commands. Having power did that to people, and rarely did it ever compel you, but his words sunk deep into your bones. Dredged up some dark, instinctual need to obey. To submit to this show of control. 

“Yes,” you mumbled around his fingers in your mouth, drool slipping past your lips when they moved. 

“Yes, what?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

You watched him suck his teeth, grabbing your face tighter and dragging you close so he could spit directly into your open mouth. He slammed your jaw shut, nearly taking off the tip of your tongue and hissed into your ear. 

“Swallow.” 

Again, you did without a thought. And it was disgusting, but invigorating, sent off some spark in your stomach with how easily he bent your body to his will. There was no man like him, you decided. And maybe this was simply because Kylo Ren was not a man. That term alone would never do him justice. 

In one shockingly smooth motion, you found yourself flat on your back, ass hanging off the edge of the desk with his hands on your hips. He ground himself against you, the throbbing of his cock evident even through the layers of clothing. That feeling on its own had you soaked through, thighs sticking with liquid excitement. 

“Remember who you work for,” he growled into your neck, licking a long stripe up your throat and sucking at the exposed skin. 

But it was very clear to you what he really meant. 

Remember who you belong to. 

You slapped a hand over your mouth as he bit down on the skin just above your shoulder, laving his tongue over the stinging flesh. Kylo pulled back, frowning down at you and yanking the hand away from your face. One held both your wrists in a vice lock while the other ripped your panties straight down your legs and left the dripping fabric discarded on the carpet. 

“No, they’re going to hear you,” he grunted, and pulled one of your hands down, pressing it to your slit and running your fingers through your slick. “Go on, touch your fucking pussy and let them know what a little whore you are for me.” 

It was something about his voice. Something in the way it left him, its timbre, its wonder, unquestioning. You could never refuse him. 

So, with a small nod you parted your folds, head resting on a stack of files as you drew slow circles around your clit with a shaky hand. His eyes never left your cunt, tracing the movement of your finger and the trail of wetness that seeped from you to the desktop. Softly, you gasped as the familiar placement of your fingers made you clench and arch up. Kylo’s rubbed small circles into your inner thighs with his thumbs, kneading the flesh there. 

When the spark was there, the lovely pulsing in your nerves alight, you dipped down, teasing and slipping inside, grinding down as best you could on your hand. It wasn’t enough, but nothing ever was since you’d been ripped open on Kylo’s cock. 

Evidently he did not find your work sufficient either. 

Another finger joined yours, stroking your lips and circling your entrance. His touch made you whine, the promise of hands that were not your own never ceasing to illicit a new gush of pleasure. 

“I said,” he murmured, his touch so terribly feather light. “Let them hear you.” 

He was like a gunshot, sudden and forceful and almost instantly had you screaming. Kylo slammed his fingers into you, so full and so deep, curling hard against that lovely spot inside. 

“Kylo, god, please—” you moaned long and low, your face burning with the knowledge that the walls were barely thick enough to keep your phone calls private, much less the shameful noises he pulled from you. 

“What was that?” he panted, adding another finger and pumping them deep into your cunt. “You can do better.” 

Your teeth dug so hard into your lip you thought it might bleed, but you couldn’t take much more. The ledge was approaching—Kylo Ren knew it—and he was determined to push you straight into the fire. 

You choked when his deliciously thick fingers were ripped from you, walls fluttering around the awful emptiness. Your head lolled back as you listened to him work the buckle of his belt and slacks open, and when you did glance down your mouth watered at the sight. Kylo—impossibly long cock throbbing in his hand—stood between your legs, stroking himself from root to tip. You watched little pearls of precum bead at the head while his thumb swiped across to smear them along his length. 

“You are insane,” you hissed through gritted teeth. 

Did you need to keep this position? No, technically you would be more than well off on the salary Mr. Ren so graciously provided. However, you could not mentally deal with being terminated for getting dicked in your office during work hours. 

Kylo smirked, the edge of his perfect cupid’s bow cocked back and aimed straight at your chest. Without warning, he sunk into you, straight to the hilt and threw his head back as you sobbed with the sharp sting of being split in two on his cock. 

“This is what you do,” he growled into your ear, hands on either side of your head as he worked his length back out only to pound into you again. “You work for me and you take my cock and don’t ever fucking forget that.”  

Your legs were wound so tightly around his waist that had he been any other man, his ribs would have cracked under the pressure. His hair, falling in black, satin waves, was gorgeous even in the sterile office lighting. You threaded your fingers into it at the roots and held him while your body rocked against the desk. It’s metal surface pinched at your sink and made your back ache, though that was nothing compared to the burn of Kylo’s thrusts, sliding against your walls. You felt him in your throat. You always did. That was simply the way things were with him. He filled you painfully, thoroughly, took over all of your senses until it was just him. 

And, strangely, it was the most alive you’d ever felt. 

He was unlike anyone you’d ever known.

You couldn’t scream for him, but you could still let him taste the desperation, the willingness in your body to mold against him. So you kissed him, dragged him by the hair to meet your lips and licked past his teeth, gasping and moaning on his tongue as you sucked it hard and cried into his mouth. 

And he drank you down, picking up a punishing rhythm and breaking blood vessels where his hands gripped your hips. One drifted lower, thumb pressing down hard on your clit as your cunt clenched around his length. The desk was lifting off the ground with every thrust, the room filled with the wet sounds of your bodies and you were quickly melting under him. 

Warmth was spreading, growing, building out from your pussy, igniting in your veins. He was right. This is what you did. This is what he did to you. This toe curling, lip biting, bone shattering kind of pleasure. 

Oh you were so royally fucked. 

“I—oh shit—Kylo I’m,” you pulled back just enough to pant out a warning before the wave took you. 

So hot, it washed over your skin and made your legs shake and your hands leave his hair to dig your nails into his chest through the crisp white button down he wore. 

“Feel that?” he grunted as you convulsed and shuddered under him, “Feel how this pussy was made for me.” 

You nodded, buried your face in his neck and held on as he worked you through your climax and straight into his own. Once, twice he ground his cock deep in you, feeling how tight you were around him until he was spent and spilling hot, thick ropes of cum that coated your walls and dripped out around his length. 

He panted, lazily rolling his hips, fucking you slowly until finally, he came to a halt with his softening cock still sheathed inside you. Seconds past, or maybe hours, you couldn’t tell. Kylo tended to have that effect on you. Time slipped away so easily in his presence, like there was never enough of it. 

When he did pull away, you stayed with your back firmly planted amidst the mess of scattered paperwork and manila envelopes. He rose to his full, towering height and tucked himself away, straightening the wrinkles in his suit and eyeing you only once from the side. You admired his profile, you never understood until now what the meaning of the word “regal” truly was. 

Under the dictionary definition, his picture surely would be there, staring at you down the bridge of his marble carved nose. 

You sat up on your elbows as he stalked towards the door. 

“Was that all you came for?”

Kylo paused, broad back still facing you and leaving the room feeling irrevocably empty with just the intention of his absence. 

“We’ll reschedule for five tonight,” he said, filling the door frame completely. “Don’t be late.” 

The door clicked shut behind him and the sound of it made you collapse back onto the desktop. You laid there for a moment, leaking your combined spend and aching. The throb of him settled in your muscles and festered. But the worst part was the other ache, the pain of being without. And maybe you had been a bit avoidant. Maybe this work really was so you didn’t have to see him. Because if you saw him you’d end up fucking him—which was fine, which was good, which was great actually—but then he would leave. And you couldn’t decide which wanting was worse. The wanting before or the wanting after. 

Maybe it didn’t matter. 

You had more important things to think about anyway. Like securing the receptionist an incredibly large holiday bonus, assuming you still had a job here at the end of the day. 

Maybe that didn’t matter either. 

It might be high time you made a commitment to whatever the hell kind of mess you’d stumbled into. Kylo Ren was an enigma in the best kind of way. Maybe you should stop running from it. 

[ghost-flakes]

liminal

summary: you decide to sign up for what you think is a date night auction for some spare cash.

pairing: kurogiri/reader

word count: 2,665

notes:  AU, no specific setting. not beta read and different than how I’m used to writing. hope you enjoy!

★ written for the Citrus Dome Collab - check out other entries here!

★ also posted on AO3!

warnings: mentions of sensory overload (not related to bedroom activities), intimacy, no smut. 

The stage lights were blinding and hot. They seared into your skin and made the edges of your vision fuzzy.

You felt like the very act of existing was generating sweat and you prayed that your makeup would hold.

Not that you really wanted to be in this situation, now that the reality of it was setting in, but it was a matter of principle. 

You were looking for some extra cash on the side and a friend of a friend had mentioned an auction night that was coming up that paid handsomely. You had thought that it was a date night type of auction, but once you saw the auction location (a revamped warehouse), you weren’t so sure. 

You miiight have glossed over the details the event organizer had told you about in favor of speculating about where, how, and why he chose to go around in a purple suit. But somehow, he made it work?

Before you knew it, you had found yourself trussed up in sparse but elegant clothing, just this side of revealing. A hint of skin here and there, enough to catch the eye but not so much to compromise your modesty. (However much you had left at this point, anyway.)

You tried not to think too hard about how efficiently you and the other participants had been prepped, but trepidation clung to the edge of your senses like stubborn cobwebs.

As the auctioneer introduced you, you let your gaze travel across the room, taking in your potential companions for the night. They were a strange assortment.

The mildest seemed to look like salarymen - one man with a very long, pointed nose that was oddly familiar. A man wearing an accordion mask, whom you guessed must have had some sort of yakuza ties, as he was flanked by three others and the whole group was given just a little extra space. A couple of other masked men (seemed like there was a theme tonight), a lizard man, a stapled patchwork man. 

A rainbow of hair colors scattered far and wide.

Golden wisps streaked across the back of the room before your attention was stolen by a couple of women who were sharply dressed and no less intimidating than any of the men. 

The room’s overall vibe was barely restrained anticipation, but underneath that was a strong warning: fuck around and find out.

Oh boy, did you not want to find out. 

If their quirks were half as exotic as their looks, you’d be torn to bits in minutes. What a morbid thought for what should have been a lighthearted, wallet-fattening evening.

Sure, the house took a hefty cut, but the hope was that the winning bid would be high enough to make it worth it.

Depending on how this turned out, you’d either start buying lotto tickets weekly or swear off gambling for life.

You saw the auctioneer gesture toward you with a flourish of his hand. Showtime!

You smiled demurely and ducked your head coyly in an attempt to hide your expression. Paired with a measured bow, hands in front, held for just a little bit longer - you felt the air in the room shift as you put yourself in the care of the audience. 

The display of vulnerability was like blood to sharks. The room exploded into action, with a near constant fwip of rustling material as guests raised their paddles to bid and the auctioneer egging them on further.

You quickly became dizzy from the thought that so many people would be bidding for your time. The room suddenly felt far too small for the amount of activity going on, and you could only wait for the final bid to land.

The room was getting louder as the bidding became more heated. You heard the clatter of a chair as someone scrambled on top of a table as if it would help them bid harder. Other patrons cried out in protest, only to be quickly put in place by a sharp reprimand from the auctioneer.

This didn’t do much to keep the room from steadily approaching a fever pitch. 

The higher the numbers, the more pressure you felt.

You were still stuck in place, sweltering under the stage lights, praying that the highest bidder at least had a kind heart so you didn’t have to spend your earnings on therapy. Or a hospital visit.

It was slowly dawning on you that the crowd seemed more than a lil’ shady but it was far too late to back out now.

The auctioneer’s voice got louder as the bid got higher. Everything was moving too fast and you stopped actively listening in order to try not to get overwhelmed. 

You heard what sounded like the bang of a gavel against a podium (how absurd, this wasn’t a courthouse), before a disgruntled hush fell across the room. Looks like bidding was over. You saw the man who had climbed onto the table drop to an unhappy squat as he tossed his paddle on the floor in disgust. You would have laughed if you weren’t afraid.

You turned toward the auctioneer and watched his face as he spoke. You only caught part of his sentence  “-- come up and collect your date for the evening, you lucky man.”

You saw someone cross the room, followed by glares from the rest of the patrons. As he got closer, you could see that he seemed to be made of fog. Or was it mist? Either way, it was a rich purple, constantly ebbing and flowing to an unknown rhythm. 

He stopped at a polite distance and introduced himself, his voice calm and low. He already knew your name, thanks to the auctioneer.

He offered his hand to you and waited. You hesitantly approached, and placed your hand in his. It felt cool, but broad and firmer than you expected. You couldn’t place the texture - something between velvet and mist.

While you were mulling over the feeling of your hand in his, he opened a warp gate and guided you both through it.

What a way to reveal a quirk.

On the other side was the inside of a small house - traditionally built but with some modern accoutrements and a little worn around the edges - but most importantly, quiet.

It was a wonderful reprieve after the cacophony of the auction.

You both shucked off your shoes before entering the living room, where he guided you to sit at a low table. A teapot and cups were already waiting for you.

You watched curiously as he served you before himself, unsure what to make of any of it.

The auction, the man, the house, the tea. The sheer amount of money he had spent on a night with you. You could easily be set for a couple of years with how much he had shelled out, and yet here he was, hosting you with patience and care. 

You still had no idea what he wanted from you.

The steam from the tea lazily floated into the air. Kurogiri’s mist undulated at a different pace - a little faster - the plumes of his fog curling into each other at the edges, like small whirlpools. 

Was he nervous?

You looked at his eyes, and saw that he had been watching you just as intently.

Somehow, the connection was comfortable. It was rare to find someone you could sit in silence with without needing to fill the space.

You watched him curiously as you sipped your tea, waiting to see what would happen next.

He excused himself for a moment and left the room. Even the sound of the shoji door sliding shut sounded gentle.

You let yourself sink into the peace of the room while you waited.

Whatever would happen, would happen, but you could try to get some enjoyment out of it. Your practicality combined with your bouts of recklessness certainly landed you in some odd situations. Your good fortune let you slide out of potentially nasty situations just as easily as you got into them and you were sure someone out there was watching over you.

Some time later Kurogiri returned to the room and walked around the table to your side. He extended a hand to you again. You unfolded yourself from your sitting position and accepted his aid.

He led you out of the sitting room, down a short hall and to another room. You could smell moisture in the air as you approached, but couldn’t see past Kurogiri’s frame.

Once you got to the room, he stepped out of the way and gestured for you to enter.

You did so, and once you had crossed the threshold of the room, you heard the door close behind you.

You looked over the shoulder just to reassure yourself that the door was closed, before looking around at the rest of the room.

OK, there was a sink and a toilet, no surprises there. 

You moved into the adjoining room to discover a shower, accompanied by a large bathtub, filled with warm water and beckoning to you. There was a light fragrance wafting through the air, something earthy yet soothing.

There was a fluffy bathrobe laid out to the side.

Alright, you got the hint.

You disrobed and quickly showered, not wanting to waste any time that could be spent soaking in the tub. Once you settled in the tub, you felt your muscles warming up and all tension (and reason) escaping. You leaned against the back of the tub and let your eyes flutter shut.

You thought you heard Kurogiri enter and exit at some point (his passing only revealed by the sound of the opening and closing of the doors) but you couldn’t be bothered to look.

When you finally deigned to open your eyes, you noticed that your clothes were gone. Was he really going to wash them for you? Man, this guy’s hosting skills were above and beyond.

By now, the water had cooled off, so you slowly rose out of the tub, as if wishing could warm up the water. The tub had been the perfect size - no need for bathtub gymnastics or body parts sticking up out of the water like mountain tops, laid bare and chilled by the wind.

You reluctantly left the tub and dried yourself off before wrapping yourself in the bathrobe, which was the softest thing you had felt in your life. Would it be a faux pas to ask him where he had gotten it?

You saw that slippers had been left out for you and ignored them. You preferred to feel the polished wood of the floor underneath your feet.

You made your way out of the bathroom, and wandered out into the hall. Before you could venture too far out, Kurogiri approached from the opposite end. The streaks of his eyes were curved up a little. Was this his version of a smile? Combined with his vest, tie, and neck brace being gone, it made him look surprisingly vulnerable.

You got the impression that this was a rare sight and were both flattered and honored.

As he led you to yet another room, you noticed that you could feel no dust or debris underneath your feet. He or whoever had cleaned the house had done an impeccable job. The amount of attention that went into the care of the house and the graciousness that had been shown to you during your stay made something in your chest stir. Sure, this was an extremely odd situation to be in, but not a bad one, so far.

He stopped in front of another shoji door and slid it open carefully. You felt as if this would be your final destination for the night. Kurogiri bowed his head and then gestured for you to enter first. You beamed at him and then stepped into the room, wiggling your toes against the tatami. You heard him close the door before feeling his presence behind you.

A quick look across the room revealed an austere bedroom. A bed, comfortable and low to the ground, a couple of lamps, your clothes neatly folded and resting by the side of the bed. Somehow, seeing them there made you feel reassured.

“You may change if you like.” 

You turned around and looked up at him as you thought about what you’d like to do.

“I’m okay like this.”

He nodded, and you suddenly felt shy. Was it bold to stay in a bathrobe? Somehow, you didn’t want to change into your clothing - it felt like things would suddenly become more formal and distant.

He moved toward the bed and waited. You realized he was waiting for you to get in first. Your stomach clenched as you felt a bolt of fear pass through you and you took a slow breath in to steady yourself. 

You climbed into the bed and moved towards the center at the side farthest from the headboard to give Kurogiri room to maneuver and knelt. You watched him climb into the bed. The sight of him looming over you for a brief moment changed the fear at the bottom of your stomach into something else.

Kurogiri reclined against the headboard and patted the bed next to him. You noticed that the cuffs of his shirt were unbuttoned. His shirt was still buttoned up all the way.

You crawled up the bed toward him, careful not to let the bathrobe slip and reveal anything, and gingerly settled down next to him. You tentatively leaned against him, and he wrapped the arm closest to you around your shoulder. You settled in closer to him and your head ended up in the crook of his neck. The casual intimacy made your heart race.

You looked at the curve of his neck, watching his mist slowly form and rise up into the air before seeming to disappear. Could you disappear into him if you got too close? But no, that was a silly thought. His body, though lacking clearly defined edges, was definitely solid beneath and around you. He was both warmer than you expected and slightly cooler than you wanted.

You leaned a little bit closer, careful not to brush your nose against his neck and breathed in. He had a pleasant smell - it reminded you of a shrine in the forest. A hint of incense and trees, refreshing and sacred.

You felt his head lean against yours and did your best to relax despite the strangeness of the situation. His mist tickled against your hair. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see the gold streaks of his eyes almost disappear. He slowly shifted to angle his body more toward you, and caressed the side of your body with his free hand. He was careful not to stray too high or low.

You felt something inside of you shift with the tenderness of the gesture. It asked for nothing more. You felt the edges of reality become a bit fuzzy, like you were somewhere between the waking world and a dream. You sunk deeper into this feeling and felt Kurogiri relax next to you, as if he were going through the same thing.

He continued to touch you gently - how much time passed, you did not know. You began to feel streaks of desire light up through you, like shooting stars passing gently across your body. You did your best to ignore them, not wanting the moment to end or change. Kurogiri’s hand stopped moving and settled against your hip. You knew his hand was bigger than yours, but it felt even bigger curled around your hip. You felt the warmth of his touch as it slowly bled through the bathrobe. You took a deep breath, held it, and exhaled as you willed yourself to settle down.

You felt Kurogiri shift as something in the air changed, but all he did was place a tender kiss on your forehead. 

[plaidbooks]

Hii!!☺️ could i request Barba x reader, where raf is seriously injured and the reader takes care of him, and he is so moved that someone had never cared and loved him like that🥺🥺, please? 🤗 your writing is amazing i love it!! 🥰💕

Taking Care

A/N: Hey anon <3 This got...this is much longer than I expected it to be haha. I tried to not make Rafael too self-deprecating...if I do a part two though, then he may go full self-hating....

Tags: bullet wounds, mentions of needles/blood

Words: 3109

Taglist: @the-baby-bookworm @beccabarba @thatesqcrush @itsjustmyfantasyroom @stardust-fray @permanentlydizzy @infiniteoddball @glowingmess @ben-c-group-therapy @averyhotchner @mrsrafaelbarba @dianilaws

You finished washing your hands quickly, hurrying out of the courthouse bathroom. You usually didn’t duck out during trials, but you didn’t know when the next recess would be, and you needed to excuse yourself. Besides, you had been there for the victims, and you had left during Rita Calhoun’s, the defense attorney’s, posturing; you didn’t need to be there for that. You had just made it back to the courtroom as Judge Ortiz was calling it for the night. Of course. You rolled your eyes; that was just your luck.

“Welcome back, Detective,” Rafael quipped, a sardonic smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth.

You shot him a playful glare. “I blame you; you’re the one that got me that large coffee during lunch.”

He really did smirk at you this time. “I did, didn’t I? I think that means you owe me a drink. Forlini’s?” You smiled back at him; you and Rafael were good friends, and you enjoyed his company…maybe a little too much. Not that you’d tell him that.

“Sounds good to me. Right this way, counselor—” you were cut off by a gunshot, ringing out in the courthouse. People screamed, ducking their heads. You reached for your gun, drawing and aiming at the defendant, who had somehow gotten the bailiff’s pistol, who was now aiming at you. But you were quicker, shooting him once in the chest. It wasn’t until you watched him hit the ground that you remembered he shot first. Eyes scanning the courtroom, you froze, hesitating for a moment when you saw Rafael on his back, blood seeping through his expensive suit at his left shoulder.

“Fuck,” you muttered, dropping to your knees by his head. You ripped your jacket off, pushing it to the wound. His eyes were wild, and he was gasping for air. If it wasn’t for all your years on the force, you’d probably be panicking as much as everyone else in the courthouse was. Hell, you were panicking, but on the surface, you were calm, professional.

“10-13, shots fired, officer down, send a bus to the courthouse now,” you ordered into your portable radio. You didn’t care if he wasn’t an officer; it was the quickest way to get an ambulance. You leaned over Rafael, trying to make eye contact with him. “Can you hear me, counselor?” you asked, keeping your voice level. “What’s your name? Can you tell me where you are?” His eyelids fluttered closed, and your hands started to shake. “Come on, talk to me…stay with me Rafael, do you hear me? Open…open your eyes…come on!”

You vaguely noticed people standing around you, hovering and looking down on you both. “Stand back, please. Give us some room,” you said, waving at them with a hand. They shuffled back, giving you some air. “Come on, Raf…stay with me, baby…you’re not going to die here, dammit,” you muttered. Where was that damn ambulance?

You swore your heart stopped when his chest did. Glancing up, you saw Rita standing and watching, eyes wide. “Rita, hold the jacket to his wound,” you ordered. She hesitated for only a moment before she was on the ground next to you, hands replacing yours. “Just hold it there.” Thank god you were certified in CPR; you pumped Rafael’s chest, stopping only to breathe into his mouth. You were dimly aware of how soft his lips were—you had wanted to know how his lips felt for so long, but this was not how you wanted to find out. You had to do this process twice more before Rafael was breathing again, and you sighed in relief. You took the jacket back from Rita, letting her rest back on her heels, in shock that one of her friends is in Death’s grasp.

Finally, the paramedics were pushing through the crowd. “He was shot with a 9mm and I had to perform CPR; he stopped breathing for maybe 10 seconds,” you reported as they loaded Rafael onto a stretcher. “I’m riding with him.” You turned back to Rita. “Call Olivia—let her know what happened and to meet me at the hospital.” It wasn’t until you got into the back of the ambulance, the sirens wailing, and saw Rafael with an oxygen mask on, medic’s frantically trying to keep him alive, that the tears started to fall.

 *******************

“He lost a lot of blood,” the doctor was telling you. “We called his mother; she has the same blood type. All we can do is hope she makes it in time.”

“Wait; I’m type O negative. Can’t I donate to him?” you asked, heart in your throat.

The doctor looked surprised. “Yes, of course. Let’s get you prepped.” You followed him to a secluded room. He ran a quick test, to confirm that you were indeed O negative, and then he placed a needle in the crook on your arm, ordering a nurse to bring you water.

By the time you were done donating blood and heading towards the waiting lobby again, albeit a little lightheaded, Olivia was there, along with the other SVU detectives…and Rafael’s mother, Lucia.

Lucia came to you, hands on your shoulders and shaking you slightly. “Where’s my Rafi? Is he okay?” The shaking made you feel dizzy, nauseous. Olivia must have seen the look on your face, because she gently pulled Lucia from you.

“He lost a lot of blood, Mrs. Barba. I gave him some of mine, but we should ask the doctor if it was enough, or if you need to give some, too,” you said, leading her back to the nurse who just helped with you. Lucia’s eyes had sparkled when she noticed the bandage around your arm.

 ********************

As it had turned out, just your donation was enough, and Rafael would make a full recovery. He was staying in the hospital for at least 48 hours before he’d be released. And during those 48 hours, you’d be fighting IAB about the shooting. You were only able to visit with Rafael once while he was in his hospital bed—he was just as snarky and sarcastic even with morphine pumping through his system. You had brought him a bouquet of flowers and a small assortment of expensive chocolates that you knew he liked. His mother had thanked you profusely for being in the courtroom when he was shot, for staying with him until he was taken to the hospital, and for donating blood when she wasn’t there.

“You…you donated blood?” Rafael asked, his ears slightly pink.

You smiled sheepishly. “Yeah…I’m O negative, universal donor and all that…guess that’s payback for the large coffee?” you joked.

He had a small, tight smile, a nod. “Sure…thank you.”

 ******************

You were finally cleared by IAB, but Olivia wasn’t letting you back to work yet, telling you to take some time off. The therapist that ran your psych evaluation had reported that you were still in shock from the shooting, that you were shoving all your feelings down instead of dealing with them. Olivia said that until you dealt with them, you were out. So, you found a therapist, started working through everything. And they suggested talking to Rafael, making sure he was alright. Because deep down, you blamed yourself for his injury.

Which is how you ended up on his doorstep, a container of your family’s minestrone soup in your hands, knocking on his door and waiting. You were greeted by Lucia Barba, who smiled brightly when she saw you.

“Oh! [Y/N], how are you?” she asked, beckoning you inside.

You moved past her, into the loft, sniffing appreciatively at whatever she was cooking. “I’m doing well, ma’am. How are you? And Rafael?”

“I’m going insane,” Rafael’s voice came from the couch in his living room, and his mother scoffed. He struggled to a sitting position, grimacing and grunting the whole time, and Lucia hurried over to help him.

“Rafi, stop being so damn stubborn,” she admonished, readjusting the pillow behind him.

He huffed out a soft “sorry, Mamí,” and you smiled. “But you really should be going back to your school; they’re missing you.”

“Nonsense; my little mijo was shot. I’m not leaving you alone,” Lucia said, kissing his forehead.

Rafael’s eyes darted around the loft, landing on you standing there awkwardly. “B-but I’m not alone! [Y/N] is here; I’ll be fine.”

She glanced at you, eyes narrowing in the way that mother’s who are being replaced do. You swallowed nervously. “Uh, y-yeah! I’m here to check up on Rafael…look, I brought soup!” You lifted the container of soup, and Lucia glared daggers at you.

“Fine, I’ll go. But you call me if you need anything,” and then she said a bunch of things in Spanish that sounded suspiciously like threats. You saw Rafael’s eyes widen, and he nodded, swallowing hard. You both sat there in awkward silence as she packed her things and left.

“Thank you,” Rafael finally said after she was gone.

You came to sit across from him, taking in his appearance. Despite the bruising still visible, peeking out from underneath the collar of his shirt, he looked well-rested. This was probably the most sleep he’d ever gotten

“Anytime. How’re you feeling?” you asked.

“Like I was shot,” he smirked.

“Well, I got news for you, Raf.”

Rafael gave you a playful glare. “Don’t be a smartass.”

You both chuckled until he winced, huffing in pain. “You okay? Anything I can do?”

“No, no, I’m fine,” he said through gritted teeth, his head leaning back on the couch. When he caught you giving him a pointed look, Rafael sighed. “Fine; I have an ice pack in the freezer. Could you please bring it?”

You moved to his kitchen, pulling the freezer open and grabbing the ice pack. You wrapped it in a towel and came back to Rafael. He placed his hand over yours, guiding the ice pack to his shoulder, hissing at the cold.

You sat in silence, only moving again to put the ice pack back in the freezer after 20 minutes had passed. Finally, Rafael said, “you don’t have to stay here, you know. I only said that to assure my mother. I love her, but she was smothering me. I may have gotten shot, but I’m not dead yet.”

“Do you blame her, Raf? You were…it was bad. You were unconscious; you didn’t have to see your own body lying lifeless on the ground, blood everywhere—”

“Hey, hey…I’m okay though, aren’t I? I’m sitting right here, [Y/N],” he murmured.

You took a deep breath, controlling yourself. You realized that besides the witnesses in the courtroom, the IAB officers, and yourself, no one knew what happened in the courtroom—not even Olivia or SVU. He didn’t know that he did die…at least for a couple seconds. And like hell were you going to tell him.

“Yeah, you’re right, you’re fine. But I’m not gonna lie to your mom,” you said. “At least let me make dinner, wait until you go to sleep for the night.” Rafael looked like he was going to argue, but you raised your voice over him, “you couldn’t beat me in a fight before, Raf, and you definitely can’t now.”

He huffed, hunching his shoulders and sinking into the couch. “Fine.” He glared at you for a moment. “You said you brought soup, right?”

 ********************

You spent the rest of the day with Rafael, making sure to give him his space, but also taking care of him. You didn’t want to just be his mother 2.0, but you also didn’t want him to hurt himself. Mostly, you waited for the drugs to knock him out before you went about cleaning his kitchen, washing dishes, finding cleaning supplies and doing little jobs as he snored softly on his couch. You made sure you were on the opposite couch by the time he woke up, idly watching TV or scrolling your phone as if you were doing nothing. He always looked embarrassed when he awoke, saying that you didn’t need to babysit him, but you scoffed, telling him you had nothing better to do today anyways. Eventually, it was late, and you helped him off the couch and towards his bedroom.

“It’s a shoulder injury; I don’t need help walking,” Rafael huffed, making his way down the hallway.

You grinned following him. “True, but I want to make sure you end up in bed okay…do you—do you need help changing shirts?”

His face turned full red, making the heat rise in your cheeks. He was already in a button-down shirt; it was probably easier to put on than a regular shirt. “I, uh…if—if you don’t mind…I can’t sleep in shirts…I have a, um, sensitive throat, and I feel like I’m choking,” he mumbled, looking away from you.

“O-oh,” you said. “Here, let me help you, then.” You moved to stand in front of him, your fingers shaking slightly as you unbuttoned his shirt. You pulled his right sleeve off before moving to gently tug it off his left. The scar just below his collarbone was angry and puckered, such a stark contrast to the rest of his smooth, tan skin.

Rafael cleared his throat, and you tore your eyes from his chest to look at him, embarrassed that you were caught staring. “Thank you for today, Detective,” Rafael gave you a soft smile, turning and heading towards his bed.

Your eyes roamed over his broad back and you fought the urge to reach out and run your nails over his skin. Instead, you hovered over him, making sure he didn’t hurt himself as he settled down. “Good night, Raf,” you whispered down at him.

“Night, [Y/N],” he muttered back.

You meant to leave his loft, to go home. Really you did. But you couldn’t force yourself to leave Rafael all alone in his loft, not when the memory of him dying in your arms on the courtroom floor was still so fresh in your mind. Though, you also couldn’t stay in the same clothes, with no deodorant or toothpaste. So, you waited until he fell asleep before you reluctantly left his place, rushing home and filling a duffel bag with necessities, then hurrying back. You stuck your head into his room, smiling when you heard his soft snores.

 *******************

Waking up on a couch at Rafael’s loft was…disorientating at first. It took a moment for you to remember where you were before it hit you. After checking on the still-sleeping Rafael, you went about making coffee. Then, you looked in the fridge, seeing what you could make for breakfast. It seemed like his mom had premade a bunch of meals, so you’d just wait for him to wake up before heating anything up.

You heard a muffled groan come from the direction of Rafael’s room, and you hurried down the hallway. You knocked twice before entering. “Are you okay?” you asked.

Rafael was standing, his right arm through a shirt sleeve, and he was struggling to put on the other side. Though, when you came into his room, he jumped, cursing in Spanish before asking, “what the hell are you doing here?”

“Helping you,” you replied, moving behind him and pulling his shirt so that he could slip his left arm through the sleeve. You came in front of him, buttoning up his shirt carefully.

“You…you don’t have to—” Rafael started before you cut him off.

“Stop saying I don’t have to, Raf. I know I don’t have to,” you glanced up into his green eyes. “I want to. We…we’re friends, aren’t we? So, let me take care of you.”

You buttoned the last button over his chest, and his hands rested over yours, holding them there against his solid torso. His eyes bored into yours, and you swallowed nervously. “Friends don’t take care of each other, [Y/N]…not like this,” he muttered.

“Then you’ve had shitty friends, Raf,” you replied, your heart in your throat. His eyes seemed to stare right through you, see all your secrets.

“Tell me why…why do you care so much about me?” he asked, his voice barely audible.

You opened your mouth but was saved by the coffee maker beeping. Rafael’s eyes flitted to the door, and you took this time to turn from him, gesturing him to follow. “I made coffee, and I was going to heat up some of the food your mom made for breakfast.”

He had no choice but to follow you to the kitchen as you made him a coffee, insisting on doing the sugar and cream for him. “You didn’t answer me,” Rafael said, taking a sip of his coffee after you handed it to him.

Outside of the intimacy of his bedroom, it was easier to not tell him the truth…at least not the full truth. “Is it weird that I care about you, Raf? I…I care about Olivia, too. And the rest of the squad. I’d help any of you, especially after being shot and dying—”

“’Dying’? I didn’t die—” Rafael stopped talking when he saw the look on your face. “[Y/N]…is there something you need to tell me?”

You fidgeted with your coffee mug before saying in a low voice, “you stopped breathing in the courtroom, Raf. I…I performed CPR on you. I—there was a moment where I thought you might’ve—”

Rafael put a hand behind your neck, tugging you towards him as he kissed you gently, his lips just as soft as the first time you felt them. But this was so much better. You kissed him back, your hands threading in his hair, careful not to pull him too hard as you held him to you.

He gently pulled back from you, panting slightly. “I’m sorry, I’ve just…no one’s ever taken care of me before. And—and not only have you stayed here all night, but you’re the reason I’m even still alive.”

“Raf…” you murmured, cupping his cheek with your hand. Your heart strained for him. “I’m here for you. I’ll take care of you for as long as you need—”

“I can’t ask you to do that. You have a life to live, a job to do.”

You shook your head. “I’m on leave. I…the shooting affected me more than I thought. I’m free to help—”

“You should be helping yourself before you help me—”

“This is helping me, Raf. Trust me. Now let me take care of you, dammit,” you smiled, leaning in to kiss him gently.

“Mmm, how can I say no when you kiss me so sweet?” he replied, grinning.

[thesmokingguns]

WENDY AND THE LOST BOYS CHAPTER 2

“Sasha. Yo, Sasha.” The sound of Tommy calling her name woke her up and she made a small sound trying to cover her ears by burying herself deeper in Tommy. There was a banging on the door to the room, “Yo Nikki, have you seen Sasha?” The door handle jiggled making her eyes snap open as she looked down at the person she was laying on. His green eyes were looking at her before he turned to look up at the door.

Nikki got out of the bed, pointing at Sasha to try and stay in the bed so he could get rid of the drummer. She was quiet but he could see this weird nervous energy coming off her. The past 24 hours had completely rocked his impression of the girl who didn’t give two shits about anything. He realized it was because for the first time she didn’t have Tommy as a bodyguard and she was feeling vulnerable. Nikki moved the wooden chair he had propped under the knob the night before knowing how Tommy liked to just walk into places without knocking and opened the door a crack.

“Sasha? I don’t know man. I got back here at 3am and there was that wild storm after it.” Nikki was filling the gap in the door not about to let him into the room. “Maybe she went grocery shopping or out with one of her friends?” Tommy shook his head.

“No, she wouldn’t do that today.” The drummer was pacing the hallway and Nikki could see Mick standing at the end of the hall. Even though the guitarist had in sunglasses Nikki knew that he was staring at him and he knew where Sasha was. “Fuck, I’m such an idiot. I should have left with you and that chick last night.” Nikki wanted to look over to where Sasha was standing on the bed but he didn’t want to give it away that she was inside the room.

“Let me throw pants on. Maybe she ran out of cigarettes. We can go look.” He watched Tommy nod before closing the door. Sasha had this strange look on her face as she reached for the cigarettes on Nikki’s dresser. “What’s going on today?” He asked, pulling on his jeans. She looked at him, those blue eyes wild as she just shook her head. Nikki threw up his hands grabbing his shirt and jacket. Sasha took a few steps across the room reaching him and touching his arm, making Nikki turn to look at her.

“Thank you for letting me sleep here last night. I don’t think I would have been able to sleep if you didn’t come home.” She admitted. She stood on her tiptoes as Nikki leaned down, brushing a kiss on his cheek. He wanted to bury his hands in her hair giving her a proper kiss. How did she smell so good living in this dump with them. His hand was around her waist and the way he was looking at her was trouble.

“Sixx, I’m heading out.” Tommy called, breaking them apart. He left the room and she listened at the door to make sure they were actually gone.

“You can come out of his room now.” She heard Mick call out. Sasha’s head came out of the room as she looked around. Mick shook his head at her.

“I didn’t have sex with him.” She let him know crossing over into the room she shared with Tommy. Sasha knew she had to get ready to go.

“Oh, I know you didn’t have sex with him.” Mick commented looking in the open door as she dug into the closet. “I can’t figure out why you haven’t slept with anyone yet but I kind of like that you’re driving them all crazy.” She gave him a smile shutting the door as he walked away.

Sasha knew she didn’t have much time to get ready. Tommy had every right to be frantic. They had to be at the courthouse at noon and it was already eleven. She carefully slid the thigh highs on, clipping them to a garter and moving to grab the strapless dress in the closet. She didn’t want to look in the mirror at herself, knowing that the scars would show. The cardigan on the bed was quickly thrown on and Sasha headed out. It had only taken her fifteen minutes to get ready; any longer Tommy might be back screaming.

She slid through the open window, frustrated about the nailed door. Being the party house had been so much fun but moments like this she was over it. She carefully headed down the concrete stairs, heels clicking and heart racing. She didn’t want to do this. Already her hands were shaking and stomach tight. Sasha fumbled for her cigarettes looking up as she heard her name. Tommy came rubbing across the street, hands smacking against the roof of a taxi that almost hit him.

“Of all days to go missing.” He said throwing his hands up at her. His mood softened when she glanced up under her king eyelashes, eyes looking like they would burst any second. “I shouldn’t have gone out last night. We should have stayed at my parents house.” She grabbed his hand weaving their fingers.

“Ah, Angel, you’ve landed back home. And looking very nice.” Nikki took in her appearance. What an upgrade from her usual keds and t-shirts. He had expected more of a reaction but she just did a smirk. “Are you two going on a date?” He teased, thinking it was too early. Tommy looked at her as if asking her if he was okay to talk.

“We have to go to court. We’ll see you later, Sixx.” A yellow cab had pulled up and she moved inside grabbing sunglasses and pushing them on to cover the tears already filling her eyes

*Flashback*

“Get over here, you little bitch.” The sound of bottles smashing just propelled Sasha to the door. She had gotten out of her boyfriend's bedroom and could see the exit of the apartment.

Neil had been pissed off after the show. His singing was off and instead of just admitting he didn’t have a career in music he took his anger out on her. He was going on about how she didn’t respect him because had seen her flirting with the bartender. She had been ordering him a beer.

“Nooo.” She screamed feeling her hair yanked back, sending her flying onto her back on the living room floor. He was going to kill her. If she was sure of anything it was that Neil had lost his mind completely and was going to kill her.

Tommy was drumming on the dashboard as his mom drove him back from the show they had tonight. He had to go  to church with her in the morning but he was planning to stop by Neil’s house to grab some of the stuff he had lying around. His mom had agreed to wash his clothes this weekend and pick him up from the show so it was a pretty big win for the seventeen year old. Plus his mother was the best cook in the world and even though Tommy would never admit it he loved being in the kitchen talking to his mother and watching the Greek VHS tapes of the soap operas his mother loved.

“I’ll just be two minutes.” Tommy promised, watching his mother undo her seatbelt. She gave him a look and he knew that she was coming long with him. His mother wasn’t a fool and knew her son got into a lot of mischief but she always felt better meeting the people who he surrounded himself with. That way she knew if something happened who she would have to kill for letting her only son get hurt. As they headed into the apartment the sound of shattering glass and a scream filled the air. His mother gave him a look, wondering what sort of trouble he had managed to attract this time. He didn’t bother knocking, just through open the door ready to greet his singer. What he saw instead was Sasha on the floor, face down, bleeding into the carpet with Neil sitting on top of her, a broken beer bottle glistening with blood, circle patterns over her left shoulder.

“Tommy, get him off her. I’m calling the police.” his mother pushed her son to the man wielding a weapon as she picked up the touch tone phone to dial 9-1-1. She extranded the cord as far as it would go as she sat on the carpet next to the girl who was fading in and out of consciousness. Tommy had tackled Neil, his mother watching to make sure her skinny son was okay. “I need an ambulance as soon as possible as well as police. A woman was attacked.” she gave them the address carefully pushing aside Sasha’s hair to check on the girl. She saw her blue eyes, she was fighting to stay awake, the loss of blood weakening her.

“Thank you.” she whispered a hand that had been digging into the carpet reached out taking Tommy’s mothers hand in her own. She held this girl wondering if she was going to die on the carpet in her lap. Her eyes shifted between the blonde and Tommy who was sitting on his singer who seemed to be coming down from whatever manic episode he was on and realizing there was blood covering his apartment. She was realizing that the blonde wasn’t as old as she had expected and was probably around the same age as her daughter making her more upset. She only knew that they saved that girls life that night.

*End Flashback*

“I’m scared, Tommy.” Sasha whispered as they sat on the bench outside of the courtroom. She would be called to the stand and he wanted to sit with her instead of inside with his parents. He was feeling guilty about not being there with her last night ahead of what would be a hard day for her. Having to relive what happened with Neil and let people hear details she wasn’t ready to even admit having happened was something Tommy knew she was struggling with. He squeezed her hand letting her rest on his shoulder, “The band is going to all look at me differently. I’m going to need to move out. I can’t believe I let this happen.” She felt like she was going to have a panic attack.

“Sasha Kavorky .” She looked up hearing her name. Tommy was already standing up helping her to her feet. His arms wrapped around her body in a tight hug before watching her walk into the courtroom.

She didn’t meet the eyes of anyone until after she was sworn in and the questioning began. She had gone over her testimony before and knew that there were going to be issues with how people saw her. She went over her background with Neil leading up to the big event so everyone would know their story and it was going to be out there for the jury to make their decision on. Sasha looked at Tommy in the crowd, sitting next to his mother and was thankful at least there was one good thing that happened from meeting Neil.

Sasha had been a young kid when she had met Neil. He had come into the thrift store she was working at looking around as if he was trying to be a superstar on a budget. But he was nice to her and didn't treat her like she was the fifteen year old kid she actually was.  That was the first sign that he was trouble but she hadn't realized that it was creepy for a twenty year old to hit on a child. He had started grooming her after a few weeks of making small talk at the shop. She went to see his band play and loved the way Neil threw his arm around her handing her beers well girls looked on jealous. It was also cool that Tommy, who was a Junior in high school started talking to her even though she was just a Sophomore. She probably got along better with Tommy because he was closer to her age and just a kid in High School like herself. He drove this gross van that always had a weird smell because he banged chicks back there but he’d drive her over to Neil’s after school because that’s where band practice was. When he became  Senior and she was a Junior that’s when things started to get bad.

It had been like overnight Sasha went from a good looking girl to a total knockout smokeshow. She filled in and started to get more attention as she got older. After Tommy graduated and she was 17 they were all at his graduation party in the backyard of his parents house. Neil had gotten so mad at the fact that some guy asked her to dance and a fight had almost broken out. Sasha had been able to cool everyone down but that night he had hit her for the first time. When the guys were at the show the next day Tommy had asked her about her shiner and Sasha had to laugh it off saying she had drank too many beers at the party and fell. If she had known that this was just the first brick in a wall of lies she didn’t know if she’d have told it. With Tommy out of school Neil started to get really paranoid about Sasha’s senior year. Even though she had moved in with him years ago he still was worried about her. He had started spending her shifts working watching her, coming in and checking up on her, and never leaving her alone. If she laughed at a joke a customer said she knew he’d beat her for it later. It was a double standard however. When they played shows Neil would grab girls feeling them up and acting like Sasha didn’t exist.

Tommy pulled her aside when she was looking for Neil before the show. She had been holding the beers that she was supposed to get for him and was afraid she’d be in trouble if he didn't get it well it was still cold. Tommy had told her that he had met the bassist for London and he was going to start a new band with him. The way that he had told her this before telling his band made Sasha realize that people were starting to see what Neil was doing to her. Tommy told her to call him because maybe she’d come to practices and see if they were any good. He was trying to do anything to get her away from Neil at that point. She had only nodded moving to the dressing room to give the lead singer the beer.

“Can you show us where he stabbed you?” the lawyer asked, knowing that seeing the scars would be better for the jury than the photographs they had of her shoulder. She knew this was coming from the mock interrogations that she had sat through. Sasha nodded, biting her lip and shrugging out of the cardigan. When she turned in the seat you could see the mangled circle patterns on her shoulder, three wounds all over lapping. The last one had stabbed the bottle so deep into her she had thought it had gone clear through. She didn’t turn to look at the jury when she heard the murmuring as she showed them the display but the first time she looked at Neil, her stomach twisting as she saw the way a smirk was on the edges of his lips as he tried to get a look at his handy work. She searched the crowd finding Tommy looking at her, his eyes not leaving her face as she shrugged her cardigan back on.

Tommy and his family were her family now. Not just like her family but his parents had officially adopted her after everything that had happened. When she had gone into the hospital his mother or Tommy were by her side until they released her. She had gone home to the Lee household and was given the guest room and told that it was her room now and she could decorate it how she pleased. His mother took her shopping with his sister and drove her to school. She loved her like a daughter and never ever made her feel like she was anything less than her own child. And Tommy was her best friend, her brother, and the only person in the world she felt like she could tell anything to. It was nice he put her on a pedestal because they both never thought of sleeping with the other person but there was a comfort between them of security they hadn’t found with anyone else in their lives.

When he went to Nikki’s house to jam he would bring her along, as long as she wasn’t in school. His parents made sure she had a semi normal existence after everything. When they had met Mick for the first time she had been leaning over the railing of the apartment smoking one of Nikki’s cigarettes and telling them to help him carry his stuff up. She had been the one to know about the party that Vince was playing because she had just graduated  and knew where all the parties were. It had only been six months since  she had almost been killed by the psycho but she had found her place.

The jury was told to go deliberate and they were allowed to leave until a decision was made. Since their court time was later in the day there was a fear they wouldn’t hear back by the end of the day. It was something they were kind of expecting. Sasha was sitting between Tommy and his mother, drinking the cup of warm coffee when a lawyer came out, his face sweating. They all looked up at him, hearts beating, knowing they’d know what was going to happen soon. When the guilty verdict was read she didn’t clap or cheer but sat there, a wave of relief washing over her because it meant that she was safe.

“Are you okay?” Tommy’s mother asked holding her in her arms as they sat around people who were getting up to leave. Sasha could only nod her head, she felt the tears coming from the relief she felt. Her hands digging into her purse as she pulled out a pair of sunglasses and slid them over her eyes, “Do you two want to come home or are you going to get proper wasted?” Tommy rolled his eyes at his mothers attempt to use cool lingo but she had gotten the smile she had wanted out of Sasha.

“I’m sure the guys are a little confused but they’d be down to go out and party.” she turned back to his mother, “But we’re still on for Sunday dinner.” she promised kissing the woman's cheek.

Sasha went into the window first looking around to see Mick laying back in a chair, fiddling with his guitar, Nikki had papers spread out and was rapidly talking to Vince at the coffee table. The looked up at the pair entering.

“Tommy, we’ve written a new song. Come over here for a second and play it.” Nikki demanded. The drummer nodded moving past him to grab a beer in the fridge. He tossed one to Sasha and the pair of them both seemed to have the same idea. They started shut gunning the beers, laughing as the empty cans hit the floor, “Can you two grow up?” NIkki said, surprised when Sasha flipped him off before heading into the room she shared with Tommy.

“Why did you two have to go to court? Did you end some weird secret marriage?” Vince asked as Tommy got situated behind his drums. The drummer glanced to the door of the room wondering if he should tell them now that it was over.

“I met Sasha through the lead singer of my old band. She started dating him when she was a kid and he treated her really badly.” Tommy told them. The guys all wanted more information but Sasha was coming out of the room. She had on her usual denim shorts that were cut too high in the back and she was wearing the London shirt again. She looked at Nikki giving him a smirk when he saw what she was wearing.

“Did you see London got a new bassist? They’re playing at The Rainbow tonight.” She teased plopping down on the couch across from where they were set up.

“You’re going to wear the band's shirt to their show? Seems kind of lame.” Nikki muttered. She rolled her eyes at him.

“Oh, fashion advice from the guy who’s wearing his own band shirt right now.” Mick covered anything Nikki could say by starting the guitar chords to their new song. She smiled getting the last word in and watching the guys start tweaking the song around. When it started to get dark they all were antsy for a drink.

Despite Nikki’s protests they had ended up at The Rainbow. The only good thing was she had changed out of the band shirt and was wearing this one shoulder leopard dress that seemed to cling and hang off every part of her body. She even wore high heels instead of her usual scuffed keds. When she had come out of the room Tommy had given the boys all a look that was clear to stay away from her. Which was fine but well they all drank and listened to the band Nikki watched Sasha hammering back shots.

“She’s shattered.” Mick commented from where he was sitting next to Nikki. “Are you going to go save her?” He looked up to see her leaning against what looked like the leader singer of London. As if she realized he was staring she made eye contact with him through the crowd. He had no idea how she was able to take his breath away with a single look but it was like her blue eyes stopped time. She had stepped away from the singer and moved through the crowd seeming not to bump into anyone.

“Hey, are you guys with the band?” She teased leaning close to them. Mick gave her a small look and she leaned over whispering something in his ear before pointing to a group of girls. The guitarist gave her a look before heading over to see what she was talking about. Sasha took up his space sighing in relief, “I wanted to look nice to celebrate today and just feel free. You didn’t even say if I looked nice.” She said her head rolling to look over at him.

“Fishing for compliments?” The bassist asked, licking his lips. She looked absolutely gorgeous. She was always gorgeous but he didn’t realize she could be this stunning.

“Is it really fishing when I look like this?” She asked him leaning forward to take his Jack and coke, sipping it as she leaned back into the seat. She was teasing him, knowing that he couldn’t do anything about it because she was like Tommy’s kid sister. He watched her out a leg up on the table, her dress sliding up her thigh and skin glistening in the lights. She let her head roll looking at him with these blue starry eyes. “I am very drunk and lonely.” She told him.

“You’re only 18. You’re not allowed to be lonely.” He teased her before pushing her leg off the table before he was tempted to run his hands up it. “And if you’re so drunk don’t drink other people’s drinks.” He leaned close wanting to grab his drink from her hands but she just leaned into him.

“You’re only 23 and someone could drown in the loneliness in your eyes.” Nikki stopped at her words and she looked around slyly. “Why don’t you take me home, Sixx? Or are you spending the night with someone else?” Sasha had got her hand around his neck, her nails scratching his head well she shifted almost onto his lap.

“Tommy would kill us.” He told her through gritted teeth. There was nothing he wanted more than to take her home. “Why don’t I just walk you back?” He asked, watching the way she pouted. God, the fullness of her lips were accented in the bratty face she was making. Lips like pillows on girls that looked like her were a recipe for disaster.

He managed to get her outside of the club, steering her in the direction of their apartment. The warmth of summer seeming to sink into their bones. Sasha was smoking his cigarettes, making Nikki wonder if she ever bought her own. She didn’t seem as drunk now that they were in the fresh air. She was steady besides him, holding his arm when they would cross a street and seeming to be lost in thought.

“Are you going to miss me, Nikki?” She asked as they climbed through the window. It was weird to be alone in the apartment, knowing everyone was out partying.

“Miss you? When the band goes on tour?” He joked watching her as she stood in the doorway to Tommy’s room. She shook her head.

“I’m going to college. I start at UCLA in less than a month. I’ll be living in the dorms there so I’ll be out of your hair.” Why did that information catch him so off guard. She licked her lips, “I guess I should practice sleeping alone. Have fun with the guys.” She shut the door to Tommy’s room locking the door with a soft click before he could react.

Nikki’s head spun as he walked back to the Rainbow. Why was he upset that she was going to be leaving? He wouldn’t have to buy cigarettes as much, that was for sure. But there also wouldn’t be the sound of her laughing as she drank her coffee on the counter tops in the morning. She wouldn’t be there when they practiced, watching him with those big blue eyes. The smell of her wouldn’t be in the shower. These little things that had felt so good without standing out this summer played over and over in his mind. What he couldn’t really understand was when he had started to like having her around.

[omgericzimmermann]

Fist-bumps mean I love you

They meet on the Haus Tour freshman year. The tour is given by a guy with a glorious flow and the sickest moustache they’ve ever seen and he’s wearing a shirt of a Christmas tree smoking a joint. They independently decide that they will like it here.

They fistbump for the first time after their tour guide mentions the Haus parties that will be thrown, and introduce themselves after the tiniest freshman they’ve ever seen, who is somehow on the hockey team with them, has produced a pie from absolutely nowhere.

“I’m Ollie,” he says.

“Wicks,” he replies.

They start dating after the first kegster. What happens is, there is tub juice. They come across the sophomore d-men, Ransom and Holster, making out in a back room and witness Bitty doing a kegstand, and figure hey, what the hell. After all, it’s Samwell, might as well try it out. The trouble is – that “college experimentation” thing turns out to be bullshit because this is not an experiment, this is the only thing that counts now.

They don’t tell anyone on the team. They’re not shy about it, they’re not embarrassed, and they don’t think they’ll be ill-received for it. After all, their team includes Bitty, and Ransom and Holster who have definitely hooked up more than once, and when they meet their manager after she gets back from Kenya, Lardo has a girlfriend for the first four months they know her. For whatever reason, Ollie and Wicks’ relationship status simply…doesn’t come up. They don’t bring it up, and neither does anyone else.

Ollie brings Wicks back to Vermont with him over the summer. Wicks meets Ollie’s mom and his siblings and they get along great. At no point is it mentioned that they’re dating, and at no point do they feel the need to bring it up. Here, it’s a defence mechanism because if Ollie’s mom knew they were dating, they would not be allowed to stay in the same room.

When they don’t get dibs on the Haus for sophomore year, they sign up to be roommates and spend their first few days of preseason rearranging their dorm to turn their shitty dorm beds into one large bed. A few of the guys from the team are conscripted to help, including one of the frosh who is good with tools but unsure about the legality of dismantling a school bed. They don’t explain, and he doesn’t ask, and things continue.

At Christmas sophomore year, things get complex. Wicks figures its his turn to introduce his boyfriend to his parents, and takes Ollie with him back to Manitoba. Unlike everyone else they know, Wicks’ parents do ask and they are upset. Not that Wicks is gay, which is the label he’s decided to wear comfortably, but that he’s living out of wedlock. Wicks’ parents give them an ultimatum. Either they marry by that summer or they’re writing to the school administration to demand they not be allowed to live together and will never speak to Wicks again.

After a month’s harried debate over the subject back at Samwell, they figure what the hell.

“After all, we can always get divorced,” Wicks points out.

“Right, exactly,” Ollie says.

They both think, unquestioningly, that this is not going to happen.

Ollie’s parents are taken aback by the whole situation, but they explain the benefits outweigh the problems. They’ve got cross-border status now, and avenues for the future in both countries are open to them forever; tuition is different for “non-traditional” undergrads which includes those who are married; they were probably going to get married anyway, so this just moves up the timeline.

They do small, a courthouse thing. They’ll do the big version, a party version, after graduation. Perhaps their teammates will have even figured out that they’re dating by then.

They don’t get dibs junior year either, but they do get non-traditional housing at least so they’ve got a suite and their own kitchen, not that either of them can cook. On the bright side, they can always pop by the Haus and pick up whatever Bitty’s made.

Ransom and Holster are the first to catch them making out in public. It’s at a kegster, no surprise, and tub juice makes them both handsy, and when Ransom and Holster encounter them, it’s with a sly wink and a nod and an assurance they won’t tell anyone about their drunken kegster fling.

“We should probably tell them we’re married,” Ollie points out when they’ve staggered drunkenly away.

“Nah, this is to the point of just being fucking funny now,” Wicks replies, and Ollie agrees.

The only indication Ransom or Holster gives that they had seen Ollie and Wicks with their hands down each other pants is that they offer them the attic as dibs. They take it, unquestionably, and get Dex’s help to do an HGTV worthy renovation off the place. When Dex says, unnerved, “again with the one bed?” they just shrug at him. What they want to ask is why he and Nursey have bunkbeds still, since they’re pretty sure Dex and Nursey are at the same level of intimacy as Ransom and Holster, but they don’t ask and Dex doesn’t offer and so they let it drop.

Their attic sparkles when the three of them are done with it and it feels more like playing house than the non-traditional dorm of junior year because this time they have close roommates. Between Nursey, Dex, Bitty, and Chowder, they’re sure that at least one of them will figure out they’re together. Add in the constant visits from Shitty and Lardo and Jack and Alexei Mashkov, surely, they think, surely. Besides even them, Ford and Tango and Whiskey are around often enough, and so are the waffles. There are constantly people in the Haus and yet.

And yet, somehow, somehow, the first person to figure out they’re together – not just hooking up, but together together – is Alexei Mashkov. He gets turned around at the last kegster of the year and winds up in the attic stairwell looking for the bathroom and discovers instead Ollie and Wicks making out.

“Oh! Am sorry,” Mashkov says. They think it’s odd that they know how drunk a professional NHL player is – who is not their former teammate – by how closely his English grammar gets to the original Russian. “Am thinking is toilet. No?”

“No,” they say. They don’t bother to pull away from each other more than it takes to speak.

“Will leave you alone on your date,” Mashkov says. He laughs and slips down a stair. “Seems I am needing to go to Samwell if I want dates.”

He starts to wander off and then pauses.

“Hmm, no,” he decides. “You are like Zimmboni and B, yes? Is not date, is…more?”

“Yeah,” they agree. He smiles, nods, and staggers away, more successfully reaching the bathroom this time.

They shrug, and go back to kissing each other.

It is after. It is after they kiss the ice and pack up their attic and toss their caps in the air. They hand out the invitations to the other members of the Samwell Men’s Hockey Team and their affiliated persons and are halfway to the next group of invitees before the earliest group figures out what’s in them.

“What the fuck?” Nursey shouts, impassioned, upon reading the invitation.

“This is, like, some kinda prank or something, right?” Dex asks.

“Nope!” they call back and hand invites to Jack and Mashkov.

“But how can y’all be getting married?” Bitty asks, squinting from the invitation to Ollie and Wicks and back.

“Oh,” Ollie says. “We’re not getting married. We got married two years ago.”

“This is just the reception,” Wicks says. “Now that we don’t have school.”

They hold hands as they wander away, leaving shocked gasps of realisation in their wake. They think to themselves, independently but at the same time, that the dumbfounded disbelief in everyone’s eyes at the reception really is the cherry on top.

[ohtobeaspettyasleah]

Can we get more background on Lori and also a reason why Adele left

Adele Samuels and Lorelei Figgs had known each other for the better part of a decade, not the type of best friends to be attached to the hip 24/7-- they mostly went about their lives after high school following different pathways that would ultimately lead them to communicate on a casual basis. The every second-day check-in, the occasional Snapchat, Facebook tag under a meme that had them both crying with laughter. It was casual, a strong connection that didn’t need constant validation or communication to understand Adele would always be in Lori’s corner and Lore is Adele’s. 

That was until, well, until Lorelei started dated Jacob Marshall. A Character to say the least and Adele’s slightly estranged step-brother, from her Fathers second marriage. In Jacobs short 21 years on earth, he had racked up a pretty hefty tally in regards to misdemeanours and assault charges. Swearing he’d be a better man for Lorelei he enrolled in community college, straightened himself out a little more. Got a job that didn’t see him evading his taxes or being paid cash in hand for jobs that had him running from authority. Sometimes people do indeed change? Other times? It’s just a matter of time before the bomb explodes--you can’t change those who don’t truly want to change. Jacob Marshall was absolutely no exception to the eons-old rule. Adele knew that well before Lorelei ever sensed the change. 

She should’ve known better than to get mixed up with the kid from school who got caught selling cocaine under the bleachers to the football team before their homecoming game. But Lorelei and Jacob always had that on again off again classic toxic frenemies relationship. He had a spell on her, someone Lorelei nor Adele could ever explain. They were entangled well before Adele’s dad married Jacobs mum down at the courthouse on 5th ave-- whatever was meant to be had already been put in place years ago. It’s just the fact Lorelei and Jacob couldn’t have been more different, more polar opposites if they tried. Jacobs had always been the hardass, the guy with the home job tattoos, the roid muscles he swore were all-natural. The crackjaw that swung left to right whenever he’d get on the gear with the boys. The law-breaking, gym junkie with a white card that allowed him to work construction and heavy machinery.

Lorelei? Well, she could’ve had it all. But settling for the only guy that had ever given her the time of day was all she ever knew how to do- especially when throughout highschool? He wouldn’t let another guy ever get close enough to say hello. It was always mental mind games. The suttle manipulation-- always with the gaslighting that had Lore feeling less than. She was smart, bright. But her lack of street smarts always got the better of her. Especially when it came to Jacobs. Fuck, it was always Jacob. 

By the time Grayson had finished with his much need shit shower and shave routine, Lorelei was finishing up with Ethan in the podcast room. Taking in all he had to teach her and all she had to learn. 

“And don’t even sweat it, if you forget I can just show you again, or Gray can-- whoever’s around.” 

“Seems pretty straight forwards, it’s an amazing setup.” Lorelei sat on the chair Grayson would normally sit on for filming podcast videos-- feeling a little lightheaded. Nothing she couldn’t mask. Focusing on her breathing, Lorelei watched as Ethan powered down the monitor and flipped back to the cameras. “Pretty secure security system huh?” 

“We’ve had a few incidences, can’t put a price on security.” Ethan shrugged. “If you want we’re just gonna be hanging out for the rest of the day, so you can stay and chill or go home, either way, its a pretty full day tomorrow, have some errands and shit to do so we’ll need you here from what? Maybe 10?”

“That’s fine, I can do that, do you want me to bring over breakfast for everyone? Coffee?” Lore asked with a soft smile, she was just happy to be needed. Happy to be living. Happy to be in the presence of people who valued her. It was nice. A welcomed change. 

“Monty’s open at 11 so we’ll do burgers for lunch instead, you vegan?”

“Not exactly but I try--”

“It’s the thought that counts.” Ethan laughed as Lorelei followed him down the hall out to the kitchen. “So you staying?” she wanted to. Lorelei would’ve loved to have said yes, but she needed to sleep. Suddenly overwhelmed with exhaustion. 

“Id love it, but I better get going, still have some stuff to do at home so I better--”

“I’ll walk you out” it was Grayson. His hair a sopping mess of dark locks that could’ve used a towel dry. The Grey sweats hanging low on his hips as he pulled over his hoodie-- the same Ethan and gifted Lorelei yesterday. Her favourite. Lorelei stared for a moment too long but ultimately nodded in shyness. 

“Sounds good.” there was a short shared silence for a few minutes while Grayson walked slowly beside Lorelei back to her car. He wasn’t exactly sure what to say, how to act. 

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here for the whole hiring process, kinda have a few things going on.” Grayson pressed his lips together as the pair approached Lore’s car. “Sometimes a bit of fresh air is all I need, but I’m here now and I’m excited to have you here, really, Adele, she uh-- she said good things about you.” Grayson was never a fan of lying, but he didn’t think this little white lie would hurt anyone. A victimless crime. He knew only what Ethan had told him Adele had said. Lorelei blushed. She could instantly feel the heat on her cheeks. 

“She’s such an idiot but I love her, she’s done a lot for me, especially setting this u, couldn’t thank her enough, or you guys, even if I wanted to.” Lore was speaking from her heart, Grayson could already tell she was genuine. Not a lot of people were genuine in L.A anymore. “I better get going.”

“Let me take you out for lunch soon? I feel like you and Ethan hit it off really well, I just want the same kinda opportunity to get to know you, you have access to my bank account I feel like I should at least have your number?” Lorelei chuckled but nodded in response. Grayson had never been so straight forward-- he wanted to crawl inside himself. Someone, anyone had to stop him before it was too late. Because he wasn’t about to stop himself, no not this time. Not with Lorelei. Her name alone had him making sure his inhaler was on his presence 24/7 and he’d known her for all of an hour. Grayson realised at that moment as she asked his assistant to go grab lunch with him, not for him, with him-- that he was in fact pathetic on a new simp level only unlocked by the very few men who fall in love in three seconds flat. 

“Oh yeah, sure lets us, gab lunch-- but I’m pretty sure my numbers on the fridge, I put it there on a pink sticky.” 

“Cool, alright well, ill see you tomorrow, uh here--” Grayson opened Lorelei’s car door for her. She beamed a bright smile. No one had ever done that before. Not for her, she thought it was something that only happened in movies. Sitting down, she strapped herself as her window went down. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, have a good day Grayson.”

“I’ll text you.” Lorelei laughed as she reversed, shaking her head playfully as she drove off biting her lip. Wondering if she was in fact reading too much into such a small encounter with the younger Dolan. Grayson stood in the middle of the drive speechless with himself:

“I need another shower.”