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mostlysignssomeportents · 10 months ago

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Demon-haunted computers are back, baby

Catch me in Miami! I'll be at Books and Books in Coral Gables on Jan 22 at 8PM.

As a science fiction writer, I am professionally irritated by a lot of sf movies. Not only do those writers get paid a lot more than I do, they insist on including things like "self-destruct" buttons on the bridges of their starships.

Look, I get it. When the evil empire is closing in on your flagship with its secret transdimensional technology, it's important that you keep those secrets out of the emperor's hand. An irrevocable self-destruct switch there on the bridge gets the job done! (It has to be irrevocable, otherwise the baddies'll just swarm the bridge and toggle it off).

But c'mon. If there's a facility built into your spaceship that causes it to explode no matter what the people on the bridge do, that is also a pretty big security risk! What if the bad guy figures out how to hijack the measure that – by design – the people who depend on the spaceship as a matter of life and death can't detect or override?

I mean, sure, you can try to simplify that self-destruct system to make it easier to audit and assure yourself that it doesn't have any bugs in it, but remember Schneier's Law: anyone can design a security system that works so well that they themselves can't think of a flaw in it. That doesn't mean you've made a security system that works – only that you've made a security system that works on people stupider than you.

I know it's weird to be worried about realism in movies that pretend we will ever find a practical means to visit other star systems and shuttle back and forth between them (which we are very, very unlikely to do):

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/09/astrobezzle/#send-robots-instead

But this kind of foolishness galls me. It galls me even more when it happens in the real world of technology design, which is why I've spent the past quarter-century being very cross about Digital Rights Management in general, and trusted computing in particular.

It all starts in 2002, when a team from Microsoft visited our offices at EFF to tell us about this new thing they'd dreamed up called "trusted computing":

https://pluralistic.net/2020/12/05/trusting-trust/#thompsons-devil

The big idea was to stick a second computer inside your computer, a very secure little co-processor, that you couldn't access directly, let alone reprogram or interfere with. As far as this "trusted platform module" was concerned, you were the enemy. The "trust" in trusted computing was about other people being able to trust your computer, even if they didn't trust you.

So that little TPM would do all kinds of cute tricks. It could observe and produce a cryptographically signed manifest of the entire boot-chain of your computer, which was meant to be an unforgeable certificate attesting to which kind of computer you were running and what software you were running on it. That meant that programs on other computers could decide whether to talk to your computer based on whether they agreed with your choices about which code to run.

This process, called "remote attestation," is generally billed as a way to identify and block computers that have been compromised by malware, or to identify gamers who are running cheats and refuse to play with them. But inevitably it turns into a way to refuse service to computers that have privacy blockers turned on, or are running stream-ripping software, or whose owners are blocking ads:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/02/self-incrimination/#wei-bai-bai

After all, a system that treats the device's owner as an adversary is a natural ally for the owner's other, human adversaries. The rubric for treating the owner as an adversary focuses on the way that users can be fooled by bad people with bad programs. If your computer gets taken over by malicious software, that malware might intercept queries from your antivirus program and send it false data that lulls it into thinking your computer is fine, even as your private data is being plundered and your system is being used to launch malware attacks on others.

These separate, non-user-accessible, non-updateable secure systems serve a nubs of certainty, a remote fortress that observes and faithfully reports on the interior workings of your computer. This separate system can't be user-modifiable or field-updateable, because then malicious software could impersonate the user and disable the security chip.

It's true that compromised computers are a real and terrifying problem. Your computer is privy to your most intimate secrets and an attacker who can turn it against you can harm you in untold ways. But the widespread redesign of out computers to treat us as their enemies gives rise to a range of completely predictable and – I would argue – even worse harms. Building computers that treat their owners as untrusted parties is a system that works well, but fails badly.

First of all, there are the ways that trusted computing is designed to hurt you. The most reliable way to enshittify something is to supply it over a computer that runs programs you can't alter, and that rats you out to third parties if you run counter-programs that disenshittify the service you're using. That's how we get inkjet printers that refuse to use perfectly good third-party ink and cars that refuse to accept perfectly good engine repairs if they are performed by third-party mechanics:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/24/rent-to-pwn/#kitt-is-a-demon

It's how we get cursed devices and appliances, from the juicer that won't squeeze third-party juice to the insulin pump that won't connect to a third-party continuous glucose monitor:

https://arstechnica.com/gaming/2020/01/unauthorized-bread-a-near-future-tale-of-refugees-and-sinister-iot-appliances/

But trusted computing doesn't just create an opaque veil between your computer and the programs you use to inspect and control it. Trusted computing creates a no-go zone where programs can change their behavior based on whether they think they're being observed.

The most prominent example of this is Dieselgate, where auto manufacturers murdered hundreds of people by gimmicking their cars to emit illegal amount of NOX. Key to Dieselgate was a program that sought to determine whether it was being observed by regulators (it checked for the telltale signs of the standard test-suite) and changed its behavior to color within the lines.

Software that is seeking to harm the owner of the device that's running it must be able to detect when it is being run inside a simulation, a test-suite, a virtual machine, or any other hallucinatory virtual world. Just as Descartes couldn't know whether anything was real until he assured himself that he could trust his senses, malware is always questing to discover whether it is running in the real universe, or in a simulation created by a wicked god:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/07/28/descartes-was-an-optimist/#uh-oh

That's why mobile malware uses clever gambits like periodically checking for readings from your device's accelerometer, on the theory that a virtual mobile phone running on a security researcher's test bench won't have the fidelity to generate plausible jiggles to match the real data that comes from a phone in your pocket:

https://arstechnica.com/information-technology/2019/01/google-play-malware-used-phones-motion-sensors-to-conceal-itself/

Sometimes this backfires in absolutely delightful ways. When the Wannacry ransomware was holding the world hostage, the security researcher Marcus Hutchins noticed that its code made reference to a very weird website: iuqerfsodp9ifjaposdfjhgosurijfaewrwergwea.com. Hutchins stood up a website at that address and every Wannacry-infection in the world went instantly dormant:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/07/10/flintstone-delano-roosevelt/#the-matrix

It turns out that Wannacry's authors were using that ferkakte URL the same way that mobile malware authors were using accelerometer readings – to fulfill Descartes' imperative to distinguish the Matrix from reality. The malware authors knew that security researchers often ran malicious code inside sandboxes that answered every network query with fake data in hopes of eliciting responses that could be analyzed for weaknesses. So the Wannacry worm would periodically poll this nonexistent website and, if it got an answer, it would assume that it was being monitored by a security researcher and it would retreat to an encrypted blob, ceasing to operate lest it give intelligence to the enemy. When Hutchins put a webserver up at iuqerfsodp9ifjaposdfjhgosurijfaewrwergwea.com, every Wannacry instance in the world was instantly convinced that it was running on an enemy's simulator and withdrew into sulky hibernation.

The arms race to distinguish simulation from reality is critical and the stakes only get higher by the day. Malware abounds, even as our devices grow more intimately woven through our lives. We put our bodies into computers – cars, buildings – and computers inside our bodies. We absolutely want our computers to be able to faithfully convey what's going on inside them.

But we keep running as hard as we can in the opposite direction, leaning harder into secure computing models built on subsystems in our computers that treat us as the threat. Take UEFI, the ubiquitous security system that observes your computer's boot process, halting it if it sees something it doesn't approve of. On the one hand, this has made installing GNU/Linux and other alternative OSes vastly harder across a wide variety of devices. This means that when a vendor end-of-lifes a gadget, no one can make an alternative OS for it, so off the landfill it goes.

It doesn't help that UEFI – and other trusted computing modules – are covered by Section 1201 of the Digital Millennium Copyright Act (DMCA), which makes it a felony to publish information that can bypass or weaken the system. The threat of a five-year prison sentence and a $500,000 fine means that UEFI and other trusted computing systems are understudied, leaving them festering with longstanding bugs:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/09/09/free-sample/#que-viva

Here's where it gets really bad. If an attacker can get inside UEFI, they can run malicious software that – by design – no program running on our computers can detect or block. That badware is running in "Ring -1" – a zone of privilege that overrides the operating system itself.

Here's the bad news: UEFI malware has already been detected in the wild:

https://securelist.com/cosmicstrand-uefi-firmware-rootkit/106973/

And here's the worst news: researchers have just identified another exploitable UEFI bug, dubbed Pixiefail:

https://blog.quarkslab.com/pixiefail-nine-vulnerabilities-in-tianocores-edk-ii-ipv6-network-stack.html

Writing in Ars Technica, Dan Goodin breaks down Pixiefail, describing how anyone on the same LAN as a vulnerable computer can infect its firmware:

https://arstechnica.com/security/2024/01/new-uefi-vulnerabilities-send-firmware-devs-across-an-entire-ecosystem-scrambling/

That vulnerability extends to computers in a data-center where the attacker has a cloud computing instance. PXE – the system that Pixiefail attacks – isn't widely used in home or office environments, but it's very common in data-centers.

Again, once a computer is exploited with Pixiefail, software running on that computer can't detect or delete the Pixiefail code. When the compromised computer is queried by the operating system, Pixiefail undetectably lies to the OS. "Hey, OS, does this drive have a file called 'pixiefail?'" "Nope." "Hey, OS, are you running a process called 'pixiefail?'" "Nope."

This is a self-destruct switch that's been compromised by the enemy, and which no one on the bridge can de-activate – by design. It's not the first time this has happened, and it won't be the last.

There are models for helping your computer bust out of the Matrix. Back in 2016, Edward Snowden and bunnie Huang prototyped and published source code and schematics for an "introspection engine":

https://assets.pubpub.org/aacpjrja/AgainstTheLaw-CounteringLawfulAbusesofDigitalSurveillance.pdf

This is a single-board computer that lives in an ultraslim shim that you slide between your iPhone's mainboard and its case, leaving a ribbon cable poking out of the SIM slot. This connects to a case that has its own OLED display. The board has leads that physically contact each of the network interfaces on the phone, conveying any data they transit to the screen so that you can observe the data your phone is sending without having to trust your phone.

(I liked this gadget so much that I included it as a major plot point in my 2020 novel Attack Surface, the third book in the Little Brother series):

https://craphound.com/attacksurface/

We don't have to cede control over our devices in order to secure them. Indeed, we can't ever secure them unless we can control them. Self-destruct switches don't belong on the bridge of your spaceship, and trusted computing modules don't belong in your devices.

I'm Kickstarting the audiobook for The Bezzle, the sequel to Red Team Blues, narrated by @wilwheaton! You can pre-order the audiobook and ebook, DRM free, as well as the hardcover, signed or unsigned. There's also bundles with Red Team Blues in ebook, audio or paperback.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/17/descartes-delenda-est/#self-destruct-sequence-initiated

Image: Mike (modified) https://www.flickr.com/photos/stillwellmike/15676883261/

CC BY-SA 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0/

#pluralistic #uefi #owner override #user override #jailbreaking #dmca 1201 #schneiers law #descartes #nub of certainty #self-destruct button #trusted computing #secure enclaves #drm #ngscb #next generation secure computing base #palladium #pixiefail #infosec

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keyotosprompts · 6 months ago

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not easy to please ⋆⭒˚｡⋆

alternatives to popular tropes

⇴ siblings's worst enemy

they're your sibling's enemy, so of course they're yours too. they're despicable and you seriously want them dead. luckily for you, the feeling's mutual.

⇴ struggling ceo and their know-it-all office worker

how did this mf become the ceo of one of the most progressive countries in the world?? they're clueless and you're the one that has to fix all their mistakes. you seriously don't get paid enough for this (unless they can come up with another way to pay you).

⇴ marriage of inconvenience

what happens in vegas stays in vegas. except when you've signed an official marriage contract, and everything is so much more complicated before. now this person is stuck with you until you can divorce! (or will you?)

⇴ forbidden hate

your parents absolutely adore the idea of the two of you together. they have wedding pinterest boards, future plans, and baby names for the two of you. only one thing: you two kinda hate each other, and hell would have to freeze over before you'd ever get with them.

⇴ no more second chances

sorry dude! f'ed up really bad the first time, and now you're not giving anymore chances, and your ex has to deal with the consequences. one problem: they can't deal with the consequences bc they're literally in love with you. hm. just what will this person do to get you back?

⇴ not so secret identity

everyone knows who they are. not even the old mask and hat trick could prevent people from identifying them. and it's fine–they absolutely bask in the fame. one problem though: they're a constant target to the entire world. perfect!

⇴ separated from each other

they never get any alone time. alone together in an elevator? too bad, a party of ten just showed up, pushing the two of you on the opposite side of the elevator. finally alone at home? nope! unfortunately, your friends make a surprise visit! oh how will you two ever get past this?

⇴ "you deserved it."

a normal person would've asked "who did this to you?" except your bond is not normal. not in the slightest. i mean seriously, what does this person want from you?

⇴ "i can't have you, so i'll let someone else take my place."

they know that they're not good enough for you, and that you deserve someone better than them. so, they choose to let you go, and hope that someone else can make your world light up like they used to

⇴ the one that is still here

everywhere you go, this person is there. whether it's physically, mentally, or spiritually, everything ties back to them. everything reminds you of them. you couldn't even escape if you tried.

⇴ playboy but he's actually a nerd that cannot get play

he's gorgeous–he's the most attractive man you think you've ever seen in your life. you think he's probably got it all–girls or boys coming up to him nonstop. only, that's not true in the slightest. somehow, he's managed to fumble every single time.

⇴ nobody wants the bad boy

he's troubled. there are rumors of him starting fights 24/7, and he lives in a bad area. he could really fuck someone up. nobody wants him.

⇴ "you must be delusional"

lovers that know that they're in love with each other, but when admitting it to their friends, they shut down their feelings.

⇴ loving someone to save them

none of that breaking up nonsense. love is power. their love and support causes you to be stronger than ever. knowing that there's love out there gives you a reason to keep on going. love saves you.

⇴ too smart to live

you've outdone yourself this time. bypassed every guard, rule, and law without anyone catching you. so, of course, there's only one solution here: to eliminate you.

⇴ different worlds (revised)

you grew up poor while they grew up rich. now, in the present, you are the more successful one, while they are struggling to get their life together. now, you must help the one who used to be in your current position, and fix things together.

⇴ one-sided blind date

rule one of having a blind date: you should not know who you're meeting. well, too late! you sneaked a peek at your friend's phone and found out who you'll be seeing soon. now, you're scrambling to get out of this date because you know exactly who it is.

#keyotosprompts #fluff prompts ⋆˚✿˖°#writeblr #writing #writing prompts #otp prompts #otp writing #imagine your otp #creative writing #writing inspiration #writers on tumblr #writing prompt #writerscommunity #creative inspiration #writer stuff #tropes #character dynamics #about writing

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kremlin · 1 year ago

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"This event ends the moment you write us a check, and it better not bounce, or you're a dead motherfucker" -- Big Bill Hell

There was a time when you'd see little old ladies paying for the groceries with a hand-written personal check, holding up the line, causing an immediately-forgiven slight sense of annoyance with those behind her. Buddy. Those days are over. They've been over. What, did you think you were going to just pop a couple extra zeroes on the end of your paycheck there? Maybe scan your paycheck, open it in photoshop, make a template, print em out all nice? You think you're the first to think of that, dipshit?

It takes the law a long time to catch up with the state of the art. You're reading this on the internet, which means you never use checks. The law has caught up. Your ass will be going to prison immediately and you will see zero return.

You can't even kite checks anymore, and hell, nobody under 40 will even know what that means, due to the blazing fast, two day settlement on all ACH transactions. Let me paint you a picture.

You get paid on Friday, but it is Monday, and bills are due on Tuesday. And you're broke: $0 in the bank. Goose egg. Pop open your checkbook, go to a store, "buy" some things, write a check for the amount. The cashier takes it!

Now take those things you "bought", across town, to another store location, and return them for cold hard cash. Sweet. Bills paid. Friday rolls around, and you just make it to the bank to deposit your paycheck before it closes. After the weekend, the checks you wrote finally post, and they don't bounce! You've kited a check. You've surreptitiously taken a zero-interest loan. And we know your broke ass. The interest rate on that short-term payday loan should have been straight up usurious. We're talking 29%. That makes predatory fuckers like us horny for sex. We're so mad. Now you are going to Federal Prison. For a good minute. Fuckface.

COST: $0.10 (With banks offering free checking accounts + Bic pen)

"Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor sleet, if you fuck with the mail, we'll rip your nuts off" -- Ronald Mail (Inventor of Mail)

Many people have this misnomer that the most powerful people in politics are democratically elected. The president, of the United States, of America, is a stupid cartoon hotdog. All of them, I don't care. Way less clout than you'd think. Brilliantly, it is the people that the hotdog president appoints who are actually doing anything significant. The director of the CIA. The fucking chairman of the Federal Reserve. Probably the, like, most senior, uh, general of the military, and shit too. I don't know, we don't "do" army here at Bloomberg. You probably don't even know their names! I don't! These are the ones you should be seeing in your sleep.

There's another position like that. Appointed directly by the hotdog. The Postmaster General. That's a real title. He's the CEO of the mail, and buddy, what he may lack in political power relative to the director of the CEO, he makes up in raw sexual energy. Total Tom Selleck energy. Like an airline pilot. We're talking Donald Sutherland in Invasion of the Body Snatchers. I'm tentpoling in my black business slacks just writing this, and all my Bloomberg newsroom bros are peering over my shoulder and also tent-poling. We're not gay though, and especially me, I'm probably the least gay, but sometimes I just lay awake for hours at night what that mustache would feel like pressed against my lips, the unbelievable and utter, total sense of security I'd feel burying my head into his hard chest.

You get it. He's your dad. And if you fuck with the mail, you've fucked with the tools in your dad's garage. And dad's been drinking. You're in for it, bucko, you are in trouble. Do you think the United States Postal Service actually makes any money? Hell no. It costs like five bucks to mail a box basically anywhere I can think of and they give you the boxes for free. You can just walk in the post office and take them. I do that, and then just throw them away, I don't know why, some kind of compulsion. Being able to move shit around like this, quickly, cheaply -- Jesus H, I've got a huge amount of money in my bank account, probably tens of trillions of dollars (due to financial knowledge gained from reading Bloomberg articles) and I could probably mail every single person ever something and still come out in the black.

No way pal. They've thought of that already. The Postmaster General is going to know every time, and he's going to grab you by the shirt collar, wearing his cool as fuck hat, and you're going to get your pants pulled down, and your bare ass spanke...I need to go use the restroom real quick.

We rely on the mail system to get important shit done. It's not something to be taken lightly, and it isn't. Trust me. This is why, like almost every other person who receives mail in this year 2023, I just fucking put a wastebasket under my mail slot. I don't even shred that shit anymore. I just burn it. Takes less time.

COST: $0.63 (Postal stamp)

"Can call all you want, but there's no one home // And you're not gonna reach my telephone // Out in the club, and I'm sipping that bubb // And you're not gonna reach my telephone" -- Lady Gaga

I read something wild that the children of today do not know what a dial tone is, because of how fucked up and stupid they are. Isn't that super fucked up?

While it's not really our style, allow me to fill you in on some ancient, arcane knowledge about the telephone. You can turn it on, and then you can punch in numbers. Any numbers. Random ones, or maybe not random ones. If the ten numbers you punch in are the same as the numbers in someone else's telephone number, their phone will ring, and then you are talking to them. This is called "Phreaking".

Here's the kicker: You can tell that jackass anything you want. "Oh, Hi, Yes, I am Reginald Sumpter calling from Avalon Consulting LLC, we are just following up on the invoice we sent you. Please remit to ###### routing ###### account."

BOOM! Your name isn't Reginald whatever and that company doesn't exist, but you just received a deposit. It's fucking beautiful. What have you done wrong? It isn't your responsibility to handle who your business' clients/etc are, it's their's. If they want to just pay you money for no real reason, well, that's kind of on them, isn't it? I haven't stuck a pistol in your face and demanded everything in the register.

Well, it's too clever. It's too slick. This is the United States of America. It's one thing to commit a felony like armed robbery, it's another thing to piss off someone in charge of the accounting division who uses a special bathroom you need a key to get into.

You can do it on the computer too, I use a PC Computer at work and send email, so you can see how it'd work there. You can make a document that is indifferentiable from a real invoice and, straight up, 1/3 of the time they will pay that shit. Lmfao.

It's called wire fraud because, uhh, duhhhh, there's wires. What do you think that thing is strung between the telephone receiver and the dialer? And computers? Give me a break. There's so many wires with those.

COST: $0.25 (Coin for payphone)

"People calculate too much and think too little." -- Charlie Munger

It is insane how dumb the common man can be when it comes to our world of expertise. I hear this same sentiment, like, ALL THE TIME:

"Durr hurr I will buy an insurance policy for my car or house or whatever so that in case something happens to it I will get money". And then that same person proceeds to drive safely or not burn their house down. Dumbest crap imaginable.

Let me break it down for you. Insurance is a two player competitive game. There is a winner and there is a loser. Go take out an expensive insurance policy on your American sports car. Buy a neck brace, a football helmet, and pack that bitch with throw pillows. Then get in the left lane of a major highway at like noonish, let it rip and then SLAM on your brakes. Hit from behind! Your fault! Congratulations. You have won insurance. How this gets past people is beyond me.

You can only do this once or twice before the insurance companies catch on. Then they don't want to fuck with you. It is also..I don't know man...something feels off about taking a car or a house, which like, some guy had to build and just destroying it, but that is only a weird emotional thing, since you're making money, more than whatever the destroyed thing is worth, so in reality you've built that house plus some extra. You've contributed.

COST: $106.00 (Average monthly car insurance payment)

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

SUBSCRIBE TO MY WHATEVER FOR PART TWO, COMING SOON. i'll post it later today probably. whatever time frame will juice the numbers. have a sneaky peaky

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inbarfink · 1 year ago

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So the AA Fandom has no shortage of jokes about how our favorite Anime Laywers generally prioritize stuff like the Power of Friendship above more mundane concerns like 'getting paid for doing their job' but...seriously now, how often do they actually get paid for lawyering?

Well, welcome to...

The Big Overview of WAA Lawyers and Actually Getting Paid!!

The vast majority of AA Cases do not discuss payments for legal services explictly, so I will be Ranking how probable I feel it is the Lawyers got Paid. With a 0 standing for 'explictly and unambigiously did not get paid' and 1 standing for 'explictly and unambigiously did get paid'

The First Turnabout

That's an easy one, it is actually explicitly mentioned that no, Larry did not pay Phoenix for his services as a Lawyer.

And so, my first trial came to a close. Larry slapped me on the back and said, "Gee, Nick, it's good to have friends!" But I'm pretty sure he's not going to pay us. Unless you count the clock he gave Mia.

Which is brought up again months later during 'Turnabout Goodbyes'

Butz: Whoa… Nick. S-so, is that why you helped me out for free? Phoenix: Uh… yes. I helped you because I believed in you. (Except I don't remember saying I'd do it for free…)

So Phoenix expected and wanted to get paid, but he’s just, like, not assertive enough to get his money off Larry. And thus a long legacy of Not Getting Money was born!

Probability of Getting Paid: 0

Turnabout Sisters

Okay, so the subject of money does not come up directly in ‘Turnabout Sisters’ but like… Maya does not seem to have a lot of liquid funds on her at this point. For most of the games she generally relays on Phoenix to pay for things for her. At best right now she is semi-dependent on Morgan for cash - and considering her motivations, she probably came out with some excuse like ‘oooh Mystic Maya must prove her independence in such a dire situation or something, the whole Fey Family is broke we can’t afford to give you any more money I feel so bad ooooh’.

So I think if Phoenix got paid for defending her that was mostly a token symbolic gesture of gratitude more than actually anything that’ll help him pay the rent. And obviously Phoenix wouldn’t gain anything if he paid himself for that second trial of the case lol

Probability of Getting Paid: 0.1

Turnabout Samurai

Okay, so this is the first case where I think it is more likely than not Phoenix Actually Got Paid. There’s nothing textual, but I think with the implications of Phoenix starting the case fretting over how to pay the rent:

Phoenix: A month has passed since my trial. Mia's murder was the talk of the town for some time… But no one paid any attention to the Wright & Co. Law Offices… How am I going to pay the rent this month? Maya: It'll be okay. I'm sure some big client is just around the corner! Phoenix: Hmph.

And THEN his new Client is Will Powers who is:

a fairly sucessful actor whose life and career seems to be unglamorous but financially stable.

the first cilent Phoenix has who isn't a friend, a relative-of-a-friend or Literally Himself

generally just a really nice and wholesome guy.

It seems pretty likely to me that Phoenix and Maya got paid for this one!

Probability of Getting Paid: 0.8

Turnabout Goodbyes

OKAY so, I've seen folks say that Phoenix would've probably done this for free cause he sees this whole thing as repaying a debt for Being Nice to Him in Fourth Grade because as we all know, Phoenix is a Certified Ridiculous Human Being.

Phoenix: This is my chance to finally pay you back. Maya: Pay him back…? Edgeworth: Pay me back? For what? I don't remember ever doing anything for you. Phoenix: Never mind… I guess you don't really need to know.

Buuuuut... Larry at the time was also part of that Class Trial Bestie Pact and Phoenix did expect him to pay I mean Larry is not the Love of His Life but still.

And more important, this case ALSO established that Miles has a problem expressing gratitude and overcompensate using financial gifts.

Phoenix: Thank you. Oh, wait! Umm… I was wondering, how much is bail going to be? Gumshoe: Don't worry about that. Mr. Edgeworth is posting the whole amount. Phoenix: What? Edgeworth…? Gumshoe: Didn't I tell you? He's grateful to her for what she did. Alright, pal. Well don't forget to go pick her up, okay? Phoenix: (Hmm… Maybe I can get Edgeworth to pay this month's rent, too…)

So I feel, like, regardless of what Phoenix wanted - at the end of this trial - Miles IS going to make sure he is GETTING PAID. Dude was probably shoving checks into his mailbox like a full month after the trial concluded.

Probability of Getting Paid: 0.9

Rise from the Ashes

So... the person who initially hires Phoenix to the case is Ema Skye, a 16 year old girl whose main funds are her allowance. And Phoenix was kinda willfully ignoring his financial situation at the start and only took this case for sentimental reasons. (just more evidence that Miles was STILL sending him payments for 'Goodbyes' lol)

It's been two months since Maya left the office… Two months without a single trial. I've had offers… But none I took. That is… until the day that girl showed up.

However he does get 'formally requested' by her probably-well-off-considering-prosecutors-in-this-series older sister shortly thereafter.

Lana: … Mr. Wright? Phoenix: Y-yes? Lana: I believe our discussion here is ended. The rest… I leave to you. Phoenix: …! Um… you mean, you're requesting my services as your defense? Lana: Don't lose any sleep over it. Your client has confessed, after all. The case is over. Phoenix: Right… I'll do what I can to get to the bottom of this. Lana: …

And after a very long and harrowing journey of being in-conflict with his own client, Lana did end up being very grateful for what he did. And again, this case espacially emphasizes that 'prosecutors make the big bucks' - so she had both the means and will to pay him.

Probability of Getting Paid: 0.6

The Lost Turnabout

Alrighty, so, Maggey is generally a nice girl and also a fangirl of Phoenix Wright and that gives her an incentive to support him financially...

Actually, I really love to watch court proceedings, and I always root for you to win! When I'm off duty, I like to come here and…

But with how unlucky she is, that might imply that she could have Money Troubles. Although on the other hand she at least has a stable job at the moment... But on the other OTHER hand she does mention how all the other lawyers 'laughed her off'

Just when I thought all hope was lost; when all the other lawyers had laughed me off… "Leave it to me!" you said! You! The one and only Phoenix Wright came to save the day! And just like that, I was moved to tears, sir! I'll never forget what you're doing for me, EVER!

Which usually I wouldn't note as a financial thing. Usually when an AA Defendant is like 'oooh I have no one else to turn too, all the other lawyers turned me down......" this is because the case is considered too impossible to win or Unbearably Wacky (or some sort of conspiracy like with Maya in 'Sisters'). But, like, this is a Tutorial Case. Phoenix won that one with Fucking Amnesia. The 'impossibility' of the case was not the issue, so, yeah, it might legitimately be the money?

Probability of Getting Paid: 0.4

Reunion, and Turnabout

It's Maya Murder Trial Time Again! Pretty much the same as before with the two added factors being:

Maya is now officially employed in the Wright & Co. Law Offices during the duration of the trial.

AFTER the Trial, when Morgan is like, in jail - Maya might have a bit more acess to her family funds. Although they are established to Not Be Doing Well Financially in general....

A piece of cloth with a ton of finely-written characters jammed onto it. Probably esoteric knowledge only mediums should know. …Hmm, let's see… Here's one in English… It says… "100 Ways to Save Money". … Being a medium sounds like a rough way of life…

I think all in all these kinda even out to the same Chances of Getting Paid at last time??

Probability of Getting Paid: 0.1

Turnabout Big Top

So if you ever start discussing how pointless the AA 'middle cases' are - just remember this one crucial detail; they are the most reliable way Phoenix Wright gets food on his plate! We once again have a stranger (that Phoenix won't feel obligated to defend for free) that is very explictly Fabulously Wealthy.

He's not as nicey-nice as Will Powers is but I feel like paying Phoenix's legal fees is not something Max will bet an eye at.

Phoenix: It's a table for guests… There are some papers scattered on top. Maya: Ah! Look at this! Max's salary is written on this piece of paper. YIKES! Phoenix: W-What is it? Maya: I didn't know a magician… This salary is incredible! Phoenix: (She looks like she's about ready to pass out from shock…) How much is it!? How much is it!? T-T-THAT MUCH!? Maya: Incredible, huh? Phoenix: You can say that again.

Probability of Getting Paid: 0.7

Farewell, My Turnabout

Okay so this is the Big One. This one’s a really complicated one to determine.

Let’s just get the first thing out of the way, the fact that Phoenix “”lost”” the case does not matter one way or another. Criminal Defense Lawyers, as a general rule, do not work on a Contingency Fee Basis. That means they are paid regardless of the result of the trial. So if this was a normal trial, Phoenix would probably be paid.

But this was not a normal trial, was it?

Phoenix was FORCED to work as a Defense Attorney due to a KIDNAPPER. And, like, my first instinct is ‘if you are already forcing someone to work via criminal means, why the hell would you also pay them??’

Buuuuut….. This is MY instinct, not the instinct of goddam Shelly De Killer.

Since Shelly’s whole thing is being the Honorable Assassin, and he has some level of respect towards Phoenix as like a Fellow Professional. I can see him thinking maybe wanting Phoenix to get paid for the work he is Coercing Him To Do Under Threat of Murdering His Best Friend for the sake of Honor.

But also also, Phoenix’s terms are not officially with De Killer, it’s with This Asshole!

And Matt Engarde is absolutely the kind of guy to casually take advantage of Phoenix’s frantic ‘please please just let me be your lawyer or my Friend is gonna Die!’ thing where, like, obviously getting paid is NOT gonna cross through Phoenix’s head atm in order to not pay/severely underpay the guy even though he can obviously afford it.

All in all, things are not looking good for this case’s probability, which is a shame considering how it ends.

Powers: Um, anyway… So, who's paying for this lovely dinner party? Maya: As if you need to ask! Everyone say, "Thank you" to Nick! Phoenix: Huh? Gumshoe: Ah, yeah… I'm kinda at the point where I can't even buy instant noodles, pal. So I kinda already put your name on the bill.

Probability of Getting Paid: 0.3

Turnabout Memories

First time covering a Lawyer that’s not Phoenix!

Now, Mia’s client in this case is a college student who probably doesn't have tons of personal funds, and considering her own motivations for taking on the case she probably would’ve done it for free but…

At the time she was employed at the Grossberg Law Offices, and Phoenix hired just the office in general and then Mia took over the case just last night.

Grossberg: Still, you surprised me… What, with your earnest request last night… "Let me handle this case!" you suddenly said. And quite forcefully, too! Mia: I just found out yesterday. About the case, I mean.

So... really this is just the Vibes I get from the Grossberg Law Offices, being generally the more professional and by-the-book law offices compared to the utter chaotic energy of Wright and Co, that makes me assume that they usually reliably charge their clients and pay their lawyers.

There’s some evidence further down the line (which we’ll get to soon) that some of their lawyers do some pro-bono work - but I dunno if Phoenix’s case was extreme enough to necessitate that (I mean he might be a broke college student but his family would probably help him with the legal funds although that assumes they even exist) . So my assumption is that Mia probably did get paid. Probably?

Probability of Getting Paid: 0.75

The Stolen Turnabout

So, Ron DeLite used to really financially struggle to keep up with his wife’s shopaholic habits - but that seems to have stabilized ever since his ‘benefactor’ showed up. So I’d assume he still has some funds left to pay his lawyer. I mean I guess it won’t be totally implausible if Desiree did manage to blow through them all…. Or maybe being a a high-spending shopaholic means that she’d want to pay extravagantly for her lawyer as well?

Probability of Getting Paid: 0.7

Recipe for Turnabout

It’s Maggey again! And now she’s:

Closer to a friend, or at least a friend-of-friend. Rather than Just Another Client.

Is probably in a more dire financial state than before, on account of being unemployed and also in jail for the last two months.

Also being a waitress isn’t that prestigious a job anyways

And if anyone is gonna help her cover her legal fees it could only be Gumshoe which… does not bode well to anyone involved!

Pissed at Phoenix cause it took her some time to realize that no, that guy who got her found guilty two months ago is not him

So basically everything that changed since her last trial makes it less likely that Phoenix charged for his legal services. I'm sure she'd try her best by the end, but Phoenix might just wave it off to save everyone a headache.

Probability of Getting Paid: 0.3

Turnabout Beginnings

So first things first I want to reiterate that Criminal Defense Attorneys generally get paid regardless of if they ‘win’ and while I couldn’t find any concrete statements about the matter - I believe they get paid even if their clients die mid-trial??? I mean, the legal fees just get added to their posthumous debts? So the lawyer would hypothetically be able to claim their due payment from the deceased’s remaining funds and possessions. If they wanted to, that is…

Cause, well, this is why I said the Grossberg Law Offices might do some pro-bono cases. Terry Fawles was, like, a part-time tutor who has been incarcerated for the last five years. If he has any family or friends outside that could help him with his legal fees, he never mentions them.

So I’m really not sure if he bought Mia services or if she volunteered to do this pro-bono after hearing he had no options for legal representations out of concern for, like, prisoners rights.

And even if he was supposed to pay Mia for her service, after the grim ending of the case - I’m not sure if she would’ve even tried to pursue getting her legal fees from Fawles’ posthumously/from his next of kin. From how deeply traumatized she was by that trial, I think that would’ve only made her feel worse about the whole situation.

Probability of Getting Paid: 0.05

Bridge to the Turnabout

Iris is a nun from a small temple that is mentioned to not-be-doing-so-hot (cause it’s tied with the Kurain Channeling Technique and it’s been on a downturn since DL-6), but she does have at least enough personal funds to have her own cell-phone and occasionally go into town. So it’s not a lot, but I think it’s enough to get Phoenix at least a a symbolic token-of-gratitude payment.

Also, it might be possible Phoenix will wave off the fees due to the Personal Connection to the case. You know, he was doing this primarily to Uncover the Truth and get some personal closure for the Dahlia mess.... Or maybe not, cause he did still get paid (or tried to get paid, or forced to get paid) to save his two Fourth-Grade-Life-Debt Childhood Best Friends in court?

(And I do mean just Phoenix, Miles probably would never charge for his services as ‘acting defense attorney’, we don’t need that farce to get any farcier)

Probability of Getting Paid: 0.3

Turnabout Trump

Now this is a complicated one, let us list the factors here one-by-one:

1. As per Apollo’s comment in the next episode, the Gavin Law Offices probably operated strictly quid pro quo.

(Good-bye, quid pro quo. Hello pro bono. sigh)

2. Phoenix is supposedly friends with the boss of the Agency. And in reality, Kritoph Gavin has a very VERY vested interest in making sure the trial goes According to Plan. Incentivising him to at least give Phoenix a discount.

3. Phoenix is also not doing that great financially right now.

4. Oh right, that entire law agency disbanded once the boss got arrested at the end of the trial!

…Speaking of which, I may be out of a job. I work for Gavin Law Offices, after all. (I still can't believe I just saw Mr. Gavin get led away in handcuffs…)

I think it is most likely that Phoenix got some sort of “”Friend”” Discount from Kristoph. But I really don’t know what happens if an entire law firm gets disbanded right after the trial cause the owner got arrested as a result of it. It probably depends on whether Phoenix was in agreement with the Gavin Law Offices who then assigned Apollo on the case or if Phoenix had an agreement with Apollo directly.

Probability of Getting Paid: 0.5

Turnabout Corner

Oh hey, look! Another rare case of an Ace Attorney that actually discusses the issue of money directly!

Well, I mean we know how much Apollo got paid for solving the case of Phoenix’s accident and Trucy’s panties (nothing) and for solving Eldoon’s Noodle Cart Theft (a free bowl of ramen). We don’t see them directly discuss the subject of payment regarding Apollo’s Actual Job…

Apollo: Your request… let me guess, something's been stolen? Alita: Um, your flyer… It says "now defending" so I thought… Apollo: Whaaaat!? You mean, you mean you want me to defend you? Me? Trucy: Maybe you can tell us what happened? Were you hit by a car? Did someone steal your stand? Or your panties? Alita: No! No… I'm not the client, actually. The client would be my… well, my fiancé, I suppose you'd call him. Apollo: Fiancé…? What happened to him, then? Alita: He was arrested this morning. The charge… was murder.

But as he was complaining before about not only being pigeonholed as some sort of a detective, but also not getting paid for anything…

Um… I was wondering when I get paid? We solved the case of your accident, and um, found a missing article of clothing.

And then getting this job and being so happy about it...

Trucy: Polly! You look as happy as a clam in its shell. Apollo: For a lawyer this is it, the place where the battle begins!

Implies that He’s Getting Paid - just as much as with Phoenix’s rent stuff in ‘Turnabout Samurai’ if not more.

Also, I don’t think the fact that the person who hired him wanted him to fail and is now going to prison is a factor here.

As I already mentioned, Defense Attorneys get paid regardless of the outcome of a trial and logically that would apply both when they lose and when they win. Plus, I am pretty sure Alita filed her request officially through Wocky’s name or the Kitaki family in general and they were obviously very grateful for what Apollo did, and they had both the wins and wills to pay him.

So let’s give a big round of applause for Apollo Justice, the WAA Lawyer most likely to get paid!

Probability of Getting Paid: 0.99

Turnabout Serenade

These kind of showbiz-focused Middle Cases are generally pretty good for Getting Paid Probabilities, but this case is a bit more complicated.

Cause the plot of this case hinges on Machi being so desperate for money that he was willing to risk death via cocoon smuggling,

Situation… I cannot explain. But money. I needed. Very much money.

That doesn’t necessarily mean he was unable to afford a lawyer - without details of why exactly he needed that Sweet, Sweet Cocoon Money we can’t be sure. But it’s plausible that hiring Apollo was not out of his price range but he was desperate for something far more expensive.

Considering his young age and… you know, until the final day of the trial he pretended to not understand a word of English, it’s also possible hiring Apollo was a matter handled by Lamirior and/or the duo’s agency. Both of which will probably feel committed to Actually Paying, each from their own angle.

Probability of Getting Paid: 0.7

Turnabout Succession

Now, HERE’S a complicated one!

Going generally over the usual stuff, Vera is a pretty nice person and she’s clearly grateful for what Apollo and Trucy did for her. And while the Misham Family was driven into forgeries by financial desperation, at the present-time they seem stable enough that Vera could at least afford the rates of the WAA. If this was just another case, it’ll get like a solid 0.7 at minimum. Pretty typical stuff by now.

But this isn’t just one more ordinary case. This a weird sort of ‘Test Trial’ for the Jurist System with every factor - including the Defendant and the Attorney - arranged by Phoenix’s weird little committee.

Well, for one, I'll be chair of the Jurist System Simulated Court Committee. The chair constructs the ideal situation… choosing the case, the jurist candidates… …even the judge and the courtroom.

Apollo: So… what kind of case is the trial simulation about? Phoenix: Well, since it is the first run through of a new system, I wanted something simple. Trucy: Good thinking! No sense wearing yourself out on something too serious! Phoenix: True. The case is a murder. Apollo: That's not simple at all!! Trucy: By "simple", did you mean that the defendant is… Phoenix: …Guilty. Yes. Most likely. …So, good luck, Apollo. Apollo: Um… with what? Phoenix: With the trial tomorrow. You're defending, of course. Recall that I said it had something to do with you.

So I guess the question here, did Phoenix basically make Vera officially hire Apollo? Did the committee hire Apollo and they’re the one paying him? Is this another case of Phoenix trolling Apollo into doing Free Volunteer Work for him?

Honestly I wouldn’t put that past the AA4 version of Phoenix..............but also if he did that I doubt he would’ve missed a chance to crack a joke at Apollo’s expense about that.

...You know, I started this thread of thought with the thought I’m arguing for a lower Getting Paid score for this case but I think I just talked myself into increasing the probability.

Probability of Getting Paid: 0.8

Also bonus round: THE TRIAL OF SHADI ENIGMAR!

Zero fucking chances Phoenix got paid on this one. HIS CLIENT DISAPPEARED IN THE MIDDLE OF THE COURT PROCEEDING! And even if Phoenix gets paid before a trial is concluded (unlikely, since he didn’t know Larry wasn’t paying him until after the case was closed), he was his attorney for like half-a-day before he disappeared so wouldn’t have much of a chance either way. And considering Zak’s character (and how he also tried to sabotage Phoenix’s current Poker-based career seven years after that), I doubt he put that much thought into Phoenix and his financial considerations to give him a down payment in case he had to to do his disappearnce act or whatever. The only thing Zak left Phoenix with when he left was his goddam abandoned child and ONE LESS BADGE!

So I think this case deserves a very special score!

Probability of Getting Paid: -1

Turnabout Countdown

It’s time for Athena’s first case! Or second case, depending on how you look at it.

Now, one of the major ways that Dual Destinies is gonna shake this Deep Serious Analysis up is that before we had, like, one Active Full-Time Lawyer at any time (maybe with a backup lawyer for Flashback Cases), and we now have Three Different Lawyers actively working together on the same cases. My main concern is primarily not which WAA Lawyers get paid for these cases, but IF any of them got paid at all. Still, shenanigans of cases changing hands officially and unofficially are gonna play a factor in my analysis as well.

And it’s here right from the start! We once again have a Lawyer defending their bestest friend in the whole world, and while some people’s instincts might suggest that means that Defense was for free, well… First things first, we already established Precedence for that back in the first trial of the first game with Larry (not for Lawyers getting paid by their friends, but at least expecting payment) and Juniper’s family is probably doing Just Fine considering she attends this super-fancy-pant prestigious Lawyer High School - so she would want to financially support Athena I would think.

And ALSO, Juniper technically didn’t hire Athena, Apollo was the one supposed to defend Junie in court at first. And although Juniper is… growing closer to Apollo at this point in canon, I don't think it's quite the ‘defend me in court for Free’ point of their relationship, compared to where Juniper and Athena are at. So this is just, like, one extra point to the Final Score!

Probability of Getting Paid: 0.7

The Monstrous Turnabout

So in this episode, we actually have two different jobs we need to make sure if Apollo actually got paid for. We have the actual criminal defense case, and we also have Babysitting Trucy.

Trucy: Oh, we'd better hurry. Doesn't look Daddy's going to make it, so let's get going. Apollo: Huh? Where are we going? What about the job he mentioned? Trucy: This IS the job, Polly! You're supposed to keep me company today! Now, come on! Apollo: Another day of not being a lawyer. Should've seen this coming. Trucy: Well, this is the "Wright ANYTHING Agency," y'know. And there's no law-related work at the moment, so… Apollo: (Tell me again why I chose to "work" here?) Where is Mr. Wright, anyway?

That being said, Phoenix might still be a bit of a troll but the WAA is doing a lot better financially now that Trucy has those Sweet Gramarye rights and he’s not quite as mean to Apollo as he was back in Hobomode. So I get a feeling that even with this little runaround, Apollo is probably at least getting paid for chaperoning Trucy around?? Probably?

The actual case is actually a lot more clear cut. It is directly mentioned that Damian Tenma could probably afford lawyers much more prestigious than the WAA, it’s just a matter of the WAA being the only ones crazy enough to take on this ‘doomed’ case.

Trucy: Apollo! Maybe this is your chance. Apollo: Chance for what? Trucy: To do the right thing and defend Jinxie's dad in court! Apollo: Who, me? Wouldn't a man like Mayor Tenma have access to more experienced lawyers? Jinxie: Umm… You wanna know what the detectives said? They doubted there was a lawyer who could get a not-guilty verdict in this one.

And with Mayor Tenma’s personality being based around being almost overly-generous and grateful…

Tenma: How… incredibly… RUDE! Apollo: Umm, sorry. Did I do something to offend you? Tenma: A visitor when all others shun me like a common criminal! And here I am with nothing to offer! I am the epitome of rude! Apollo: (………Wait, so he wasn't mad at me?)

I feel like it is almost a certainty that Apollo and Athena did get paid for this case!

Probability of Getting Paid: 0.85

Turnabout Academy

Okay so, it’s Junie again! Or Junie for the first time depending on how you look at it!

So all of the points I already brought up about Juniper from ‘Countdown’ still apply (save for the stuff about Apollo, of course) but ALSO this is right when Athena and Juniper reunited and their whole emotional arc in this case is about Athena feeling Juniper is being Uncharacteristically Cold and Distant towards her. So defending her on a Friend Discount would be a bit strange at this point. Maybe I can see Athena trying to insist she’d do it for free but Juniper refused?

Although I think that IS a bit weird that they had this big whole scene with Professor ScaryStatue taking over Juniper’s case and the issue of payment doesn’t even come up in passing. I mean, yes obviously, the issues of Trust and Truth and Aristotle Means being Sus as Fuck are the important things in this narrative but I’m suprised there’s not even a mention in passing. Like Means accusing Athena and Apollo of wanting this case back for the Money but they refute him???

Probability of Getting Paid: 0.8

The Cosmic Turnabout

Okay, look, I know I keep bringing up the Larry Precedence but it really IS quite relevant. If Actual Overly-Sentimental Human Disaster Phoenix Wright tried to charge a rate for his childhood best friend who was drifting through life doing weird odd jobs at that time. - Then Apollo, who is generally more practical minded, is probably going to charge a rate for his older acquaintance with the stable Astronaut Job. And while Solomon is a bit of a Space Larry, I don’t think he’d try and avoid the payment in quite the same way. Probably.

Probability of Getting Paid: 0.7

Turnabout for Tomorrow

This trial has Phoenix defending one of his own employees in a trial forced on by a hostage situation. I feel silly even extending this paragraph any longer.

Probability of Getting Paid: 0.01

Turnabout Reclaimed

First things first, yes, an Orca cannot pay for an attorney - but I assume that the person who hired Phoenix is officially Sasha Buckler. Who IS a human being with her own funds capable of hiring a lawyer. Especially as we know that other lawyers turned her down specifically because her case is ridiculous (and not for financial reasons).

Phoenix: What's the real reason you picked me, Sasha? Buckler: …Well, to be honest, I asked a whole slew of lawyers, but they all refused. They said stuff like, "There's no merit to taking your case," or "I'm not sure I can help." They're all as cruel as sharks, with hearts punier than whitebait!

She does mention doing a performance as thanks at the ending of the trial but that’s probably no replacement for Actual Money.

But I think most notable for our analysis about this case, is not actually any of the Orca stuff - it’s this exchange right here.

Blackquill: Today, the orca. Tomorrow, Sasha Buckler. You intend to save them both? Hmph. You say you "believe" in your clients, but isn't money really your true motivation? Why not admit you're only doing this for your own benefit? I could understand that much more readily than your empty, righteous talk. Athena: Our own benefit?! That's not why we're doing it! Phoenix: Now, Athena. Try not to let him get to you.

Yet another rare case of the game Acknowledging Lawyers Are Paid As a General Rule! And notably, when Phoenix and Athena deny it, they don’t deny the fact that they are getting paid - just that it’s not why they’re doing this. This is not exactly an explicit confirmation of Getting Paid to get the score up to a full 1, but it’s probably as close as we’re gonna get.

Probability of Getting Paid: 0.95

The Foreign Turnabout

Okay, so Phoenix basically just bursted into the Courtroom and bluffed his way onto the empty defense bench despite the protests of his own so-called Client. Said client also only started unlearning his Defense-Attorney-Hate during that same trial. And is ALSO a tiny little child who has to work part time as a tour-guide to make end’s meet. I highly doubt Phoenix asked for anything more than, like, a very token rate or maybe a discount on his next tour.

Probability of Getting Paid: 0.1

The Magical Turnabout

Considering how this case has a WAA Lawyer defending the actual CEO of the WAA, I highly doubt the WAA got any money from it. But maybe Trucy could give him some of her personal funds as a token of gratitude?

Probability of Getting Paid: 0.2

The Rite of Turnabout

It’s MAYA TIME again! And while some consideration has to go to her bond with Phoenix or the possibility of some sort of Frequent Accused card the WAA issued for her - the fact that she is not currently a Coworker at the law office and has been an Actual Independent Adult for quite some time now means it is actually a lot more likely she’s able to pay Phoenix now than in any case in the Original Trilogy!

Probability of Getting Paid: 0.5

Turnabout Storyteller

This one’s a pretty average case. The Defendant is not a total stranger, but he is more of a friend-of-a-friend (and Simon was originally planning to get Apollo or Phoenix into the courtroom so the connection was even more distant when he contacted the WAA). He seems to be doing alright financially with his own noodle business, and he’s a pretty alright kinda guy. The only possible concern is that he’s too totally slushed to remember he’s supposed to pay his attorney. But then again, Simon might be ‘officially’ the one who hired the lawyer for the case.

Probability of Getting Paid: 0.6

Turnabout Revolution

It’s time for the THREE CASES IN ONE SPECIAL!! Because we don’t just need to consider Dhurke’s trial, I think it’s only appropriate that we take into account both Apollo and Phoenix’s side of the civil case. They are both WAA Lawyers, after all.

On Apollo’s side, he is defending Datz Are'bal, an escaped prisoner/wanted revolutionary criminal in his own country hiding away in an abandoned building and making homemade lizard skewers for food- but Datz did apparently enter Japanifornia legally via legitimate means.

Apollo: What are the charges this time? Datz: Unauthorized entry, or something like that. They think I'm an illegal alien! And I can't prove otherwise ‘cause I lost my passport! Trucy: Is there any way they'd let you go? Datz: Not without my passport… If only I had it! Dhurke, AJ! You gotta find my passport! Apollo: …All right, we'll find it. (One more thing to add to our to-do list. Now, where might Datz's passport be?)

So he presumably has some sort of funds to pay Apollo for his legal services, at least a little bit.

And with him being Dhurke’s best friend and knowing that he also struggled financially to make end’s meet as a defense attorney at first - I would like to think that’ll incentivise him to support Apollo financially if he can?

Probability of Getting Paid: 0.7

Meanwhile on Phoenix’s side, while Phoenix uses the word ‘hire’ when talking about working for Atishon. Phoenix was once again coerced via kidnapping into the position of attorney.

And THIS time, there is no Assassin with a Code of Honor who might consider paying Phoenix a fair rate. Both Atishon and his ‘benefactor’ are sleazeballs who would not pay Phoenix a dime if they can get away with it. Plus, with this being a civil case, there might actually be a Contingency Basis going on when Phoenix basically quit and then they lose.

Probability of Getting Paid: 0.001

And finally, the grand event of this case - the Trial of Dhurke!

So… Can a summoned undead spirit pay for an attorney? I suppose it’s probably easier in Khura'in than in other places. And it’ll mostly work the same as if the client died before the case finished, right? It’ll be considered a debt to be carried by their next of kin. Who in this case will be Nahyuta… but also maybe Apollo? Still, considering all of Dhurke’s living family ranges between ‘wealthy and well-respected’ and ‘Literal Royalty’ - I’m going to assume they’d be more than happy then to pay their Weird Brother for his help.

Probability of Getting Paid: 0.75

Turnabout Time Traveler

And here we are! The last case, and a relatively straightforward one at that - at least compared to the last one lol!

Ellen herself does not have many funds as a housemaid, it seems - but since she literally just married one of the richest inventors in the world, I assume her husband is gonna cover the legal fees. The WAA Legal Team and Also Edgeworth and Ema also got an invite to the Wedding but I assume this is not instead of actual payment?

That is, of course, unless it’s technically Larry who hired Phoenix actually.

Then he’s never getting the goddam money he deserves for his labor.

Probability of Getting Paid: 0.7

Average Probability Score for All Cases (not counting the Zak Bonus Round): 0.51721875

So what have we learned today? I think that while the WAA’s reputation for basically giving away legal services for free is not entirely unearned, it is perhaps somewhat exaggerated. While there’s certainly a lot of Shennanigans and their rates are probably not high (especially not for people they know), they still get paid for a decent amount of high-profile cases. I mean, this Getting Paid Probability Score is over the 50% mark at least....

And… the odd thing is that the First Turnabout really is the only time the subject of the lawyer getting paid is really brought up directly. I get that it might, y’know, ruin the Drama if we acknowledge that our Brave Heroes are getting paid to save people from being convicted of a crime they didn’t commit - or on the other hand of the equation, that they should get paid cause They Need Money to Live. But still…

Is the fact that the only time payment is brought up directly is when Larry isn’t paying Phoenix a bad sign for the general financial situation of our Anime Lawyers? Or is it actually a good sign? Like, that they only mention Larry not paying implying that every time it is not mentioned that means the client did pay them?

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spidernuggets · 8 months ago

Note

Hi hope you’re having a good/night can you do a Jason Todd x detective fem reader. She meets Jason , but she meets him when he’s red hood at a crime scene.

Jason Todd x FemDetective!Reader

"So you're the guy that's making my paperwork pile up higher than the Empire State Building."

"Christ, another one?" One of your coworkers said as the limp, dead body was zipped up into a body, and evidence collected and put away.

You shrug a shoulder, writing down in your notepad a list of suspects and witnesses involved in this new murder, which was also linked to other recent killings.

"Adam Matthews." You state the victim's name.

"Drug dealer?" Your coworker asks, looking at the substance that Matthews had on his person being bagged for evidence.

"Mm. He was a cook for a drug dealer who tested on homeless kids or orphans. But Matthews was also known for being an accessory for other murders, kidnappings, and was guilty for sexual assaults," you state, sighing, putting your notebook away.

Your coworker fell shocked. "How the fuck is he not locked up?!" He yells.

"Links with richies," you scoff. "Well, he's dead now. His long, overdue debt it now paid." You always believed these kinds of people never deserved a second chance. All the previous murder victims were similar to Adam Matthews. So, others may call you crazy, but you were thankful for this anonymous killer going out of their way, killing scumbags like Matthews.

"I'm going to scout around the area, Parks," you told your coworker as he nodded and went to discuss with the other officers around the area.

You shone your flashlight around the narrow alleys, searching for any clues or evidence you could use to help solve the crime and catch the murderer. Or in your eyes an anti-hero.

Just as you were about to turn around and return to the scene, you heard grunts and strings of profanity coming from behind one of the dumpsters.

Your hand hovered over your gun in your hip holster, walking towards the sounds.

You swiftly turned to see the source, hand on the handle of the gun, and saw a certain, outlawed vigilante leaning on the dumpster, holding his arm, his body stained with blood.

His helmet lay in between his legs, his domino mask remaining on his face.

"What the fu- Red Hood??" You exclaim.

"You mind?" He groans, holding his hand out, trying to avoid the flash shining in his eyes.

"Shit, sorry," you reoly, turning it off and placing it on your utility belt. Your head tilted to the side, seeing that Red Hood was struggling to wrap his arm up. "It's loose," you say, referring to the bandage- or rag that he was tying around his bicep.

"Wow, really? Didn't- fuck- didn't notice," he says, cursing once more when the bandage fell down.

You roll your eyes, crouching beside his and taking the bandage from his, unwrapping his arm and rewrapping it tighter as it should be.

"So you're the guy that's making my paperwork pile up higher than the Empire State Building." You mutter, tying the bandage to stay in place.

"Sorry, little cop lady. Just doing my job." He hisses.

"It's little detrctice lady to you. And I'd appreciate it if you made your little killing sprees a little more discreet. Eventually, the actual cops are gonna catch your ass," you snicker, getting up.

"As if I let them." He bites back.

"L/n. Where are you?" Parks says through your walkie. "Did you find anything?"

Red Hood gets up, putting his helmet back on, looking down at you, waiting for your response.

You click on the button to reply. "No. Nothing here. Coming back now."

The white glowing eyes pierce through yours as Red Hood chuckles. "Hiding a criminal? Haven't taken a look through the law book in a while, but isn't that illegal?" You couldn't see it, but Red Hood grinned, amised at this new encounter.

You shrugged. "I'm only doing this because I know I can't stop you, even if I wanted to. Besides. If these ass rat criminals kept scurrying around, the papaerwork would be much more than you're making." You smirk.

He laughs. "So you're saying you don't want to stop me?" He crosses his arms.

"Have a good night, Mr. Hood." You bid him goodbye, walking back to the crime scene.

"And to you too, little detective lady," he says, quietly hoping to run into again after he puts lead into the head of his next target.

"Jeez, I thought you died or something. You were gone for a while, are you sure you didn't find anything?" Parks quickly asks you.

You quickly wipe away the blood on your palms from Red Hood's wound onto your black jeans. "Save the interrogation for the suspects, Parks. Nothing there but dead rats and graffiti."

You walk off, almost missing the shine of a red helmet running off on the roof of a building in the distance as you smirk to yourself, also secretly hoping Red Hood would cause another casualty to meet him again.

Parks was about to walk off, too, almost missing the tiniest splotch of red on your white shirt as he raised an eyebrow.

I'M SO SORRY I DIDN'T MEAN TO MAKE IT SO SHORT!!!

I didn't want to leave this ask in my inbox for too long and forget about it 😭😭

BUTTTT if you or anyone else wants!!! I can make a part 2 where Reader and Red Hood begin a constant meetup after every death Red Hood causes (only to those criminals who deserve it, obvi). And Parks becomes suspicious of Reader and threatens her or that Reader's job is put on the line!!!!

I was going to add this idea in, but I'm really bad at making long fics cuz I always wanna get it over and done with and I'm so impatient 😭

HOPE YOU ENJOYED IT ANYWAYS 🙏🙏

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fluentmoviequoter · 6 months ago

Text

Accidental CI

Pairing: David "Deacon" Kay x fem!reader

Summary: When your employer's name comes up in a case, your best friend Deacon calls to ask for your help. He leads you into a dangerous situation, and you come out as more than friends.

Warnings: r works an unspecified corporate job, mentions weapon trafficking and guns, threats, mostly fluff!

Word Count: 3.1k+ words

Masterlist Directory | Deacon Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

“Hi, Deac,” you greet as you open the door.

“How was work?” he asks.

“It was fine. My boss forgot to start a software update last night so we didn’t have computer access until after lunch.”

“So, you got paid to sit there and do nothing?”

“Which isn’t that much different than most days,” you tease. “What about you? Any crazy calls?”

You lead Deacon into your kitchen, and his smile widens when he sees dinner waiting on your counter. He pulls you into a quick hug before telling you about his day at work.

“No injuries?” you ask softly.

“No injuries,” he assures. “What about you; any paper cuts that need tending to?”

“Just mental injuries for me. Our financial statements aren’t aligning like they should and if it’s not fixed by the next audit, someone’s getting in trouble.”

“What do you think caused it?”

“Oversight or adding the same bill twice, I’d guess. But I think we should talk about something more exciting than my future IRS investigation.”

“Then let’s talk about that amazing dinner over there and I’ll remind you that Luca wants to have a cooking competition with you.”

Deacon has been your best friend since he moved in next door. You also harbor an ever-growing crush on him. When you saw him climb out of the moving truck the first day, you knew you wanted to be close. He’s got a stressful job, so if you can give him a break and a friend, that’s what you’ll do.

Deacon watches the screen in the situation room as Hondo explains the corporate espionage turned weapon trafficking case. It's a strange move, going from stealing trade secrets to transporting illegal weapons across borders and into areas with strict gun control laws. Metro found a lot of evidence, but when they located the weapons supply in their prime suspect’s corporate office, they called in 20 Squad.

“Wait, go back. Who’s the suspect?” Deacon asks.

His eyes search the monitor as Hondo returns to a page of surveillance photos.

“Elwin Dupree. You know him?” Hondo responds.

“Not personally, but I know someone who works for him.”

“CI?” Chris guesses.

“No. She might be willing to help, though.”

“Call her,” Hondo says.

Hicks adds, “Otherwise, we’re going in blind. Metro has intel but it’s not enough to avoid an ambush.”

Deacon nods and walks out of the room. He presses a contact from his favorites list before raising his phone to his ear.

“Remind me why we work here?” your desk neighbor, whom you lovingly call Nola, says as she sits across from you.

“Because the pay is good… and we’re desperate,” you offer, smiling as you accept your favorite drink.

“May I remind you that Dupree is an idiot who can’t even remember what he asks us to do?”

“Just smile and go with it, Nola, it’s the easiest way to handle it.”

“The man called me into his office yesterday, and then didn’t know why I was there,” she whispers.

“That’s probably a good thing for you. Considering your nickname is based off of your reply of no; lazy.”

“I am lazy! So, I don’t like to do things. He can fire me whenever he wants.”

You roll your eyes and prepare to reply but are interrupted by your cell phone ringing. You apologize to Nola before you answer it.

“Hey, it’s me,” Deacon says on the other end of the line.

“Indeed, it is. What’s going on?” you reply.

“How do you know something is going on?”

“It’s mid-morning on a weekday. And you never call me.”

“I call you all the time!” Deacon argues.

You laugh before you say, “Not when you’re at work.”

“Okay, fine, you’re right. Listen, we’re working on something, and your boss’s name came up.”

“Dupree?” you inquire. “Why?”

“I can’t tell you exactly what we’re looking into, but Hondo and Hicks wanted to know if you’d be willing to help us.”

“Of course. Tell me what to do,” you agree.

“Can you come down here?”

“Uh, yeah,” you answer. You open the calendar on your computer and add, “I can spare an hour and a half, is that enough time?”

“Absolutely. Thank you,” Deacon says.

“Anything for you.”

You hang up and gather your things before standing.

“Where are you off to? Please tell me you’re leaving to go on a date with the hot neighbor you always talk about,” Nola whispers.

“Not today. There was a slight mishap for some of our paperwork. I have to run to another office and get everything sorted out,” you lie. “I’ll have my cell if you need anything.”

“Dodging bullets left and right, aren’t you? Go ahead, I’ll watch your phone and fill in Dupree if he notices you’re gone.”

“Thanks, Nola.”

When you park outside the station, your thoughts begin spiraling. You sit in your seat and wonder if you made the right decision. Will you be in Deacon’s way or be too distracted by him to even help? What if something happens to him while you’re with him? What if he-

A tap on your window draws you from your questions. You turn your head and see Deacon looking at you through the glass. You send him a small smile as he opens your door and bends to look at you. His head tilts to this side, and when he lowers to a squat, his brown eyes distract you as he looks up at you.

“You okay? You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” he says gently.

“No, I want to. Just- I was thinking too much, I guess,” you reply.

Deacon nods and stands before offering his hand to help you out of your seat. He closes the door and ensures it’s locked before moving his hand to your back to lead you inside.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Hondo,” Hondo says as you enter.

You shake Hondo’s hand and introduce yourself as you follow him further into the station. He doesn’t waste any time as he begins explaining as much as he can about how your boss is involved in the case they’re working.

“We’d like to send you in the get additional details on the office and any other information you can find,” Hondo says. “We’ve got basic floor plans, but we need insider info.”

“She can’t go in alone,” Deacon argues. “We don’t know what he has in that office. If she starts asking questions and he gets suspicious-“

You cut Deacon off by laying a hand on his shoulder and asking, “What if you go in with me? It wouldn’t be that hard for me to lie about who you are; Dupree doesn’t know most of the people who work in the building. Plus, you know what to look for better than I do.”

Hondo looks at Deacon and waits for his reply. You feel Deacon sigh against your hand before agreeing to go into the office with you.

“There’s an employee entrance without metal detectors, but you have to swipe a keycard,” you explain. “They’ll know if you piggyback with me.”

“Our techs can make him a keycard,” Hondo assures. “If you have yours, they can copy parts of it.”

You nod and pass your card to Hondo. He turns and gives it to a passing officer with a few short instructions. Deacon pats your arm as he leaves to change; his uniform isn’t business casual, but he said he'd find something more fitting.

“20 Squad is going to be close by,” Hondo begins. “Deacon can say a word and we’ll be inside, but if you need help and get separated from Deacon, try to get to a window. Signaling for help is easiest with this; just keep it in your pocket or your hand and press the button if you need us.”

You accept the small device and slide it into your pocket. It’s invisible, and you nod as Hondo reassures you everything will be okay.

“I know you can’t tell me what exactly Dupree is doing, but you’re going to catch him, right?” you ask softly.

“Absolutely. Nobody can run from S.W.A.T.”

You scan your keycard and wait for Deacon to do the same before opening the door. The employee entrance is on the side of the building, and you smooth your hands over your hips nervously. When you feel the device Hondo gave you, you relax slightly.

“We’ll walk to my desk, look at a few papers, and then go in?” you suggest as Deacon gestures for you to enter.

“Sounds good,” he agrees.

“The suit looks good,” you mumble as you walk toward the elevator.

Deacon chuckles as the elevator door opens, and you smile as he shakes his head at your flattery. The elevator is quiet, and as you wait to arrive on your floor, you take a few deep breaths. Deacon’s hand finds your lower back, and he rubs small, comforting circles before the door opens.

“Still working on the paperwork issue?” Nola asks when you reach your desk.

“Yeah, we are. This is Ryan from the Santa Monica branch,” you say.

Nola’s eyes narrow at you before she looks at Deacon’s hand. He’s close to you, like always, but you don’t understand her look. You raise your brows, but she only shrugs before looking back at her computer.

“Was it this one?” you ask Deacon.

He takes the blank form from your hand and nods. “Yes, this is the one.”

You return the paper to its rightful place on your desk before leading Deacon down another hallway. Nola’s reaction confused you at first, yet you’re not surprised when Deacon gently grabs your hip to stop you in the hallway.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper.

“It’s fine. Just stay calm and remember our covers. Like you said, Dupree won’t know any difference,” Deacon soothes. “And the team’s waiting for our signal if we need them.”

You nod, and Deacon’s hands raise to your shoulders as he drops his chin to look into your eyes.

“You got this,” he promises.

“I need to discuss an urgent matter with Mr. Dupree,” you inform his secretary. “This is Mr. Ryan Davidson from the Santa Monica branch. There have been some discrepancies with paperwork submitted to their office, which needs Mr. Dupree’s immediate attention.”

His secretary raises the receiver of her desk phone and whispers into it. You turn to look at Deacon, and he tilts his head to the left to signal you to stay calm and wait.

“You can go on in,” the secretary says as she lowers the phone.

Deacon opens the door for you, and you step inside first.

“Hello,” Mr. Dupree greets. He doesn’t pretend to remember your name, you notice. “I heard there’s an issue with some paperwork?”

“Yes, sir,” Deacon says. “I’m Ryan Davidson with the Santa Monica office and we’ve been having issues; receiving incomplete or incorrect paperwork from this branch.”

“My sincerest apologies, Ryan. If you don’t mind, use that laptop there and sign into your account while I bring mine up. We’ll get this sorted.”

You stand back as Deacon walks to the table at the back of the office and opens the laptop. Mr. Dupree didn’t shake his hand, ask for identification, or take other proper steps before jumping to help. It’s suspicious, but probably not what Deacon and his team need.

“What kind of incorrect information have you seen?” Mr. Dupree asks. You open your mouth to answer, and he adds, “Ryan?”

“Financial statements that aren’t matching previous months, for one. Most likely an oversight or adding the same bill twice. Nothing too extreme, just something we need sorted before the end-of-year audits,” Deacon answers.

You raise your eyebrows in surprise at his response. He practically repeated a complaint you shared during your last dinner together.

“Very well. I don’t know why the system is moving so slowly,” Dupree responds. He moves his hand under his desk as Deacon types.

You watch Dupree because Deacon’s team is getting him the access he needs. When you see the handle of a gun gripped in Dupree’s hand, you call, “Gun!” and drop to the floor just before he shoots above your head.

Deacon pulls his own weapon and points it at Dupree as he demands, “Put the gun down. I’m Sergeant Kay, L.A.P.D. S.W.A.T.”

As Deacon speaks, you slowly press your back against the side of Dupree’s desk, where he can’t see you. Deacon’s eyes are on Dupree, but you watch Deacon because you trust him to keep you safe.

“I could put it down,” Dupree says. “But if I angle it like this and pull the trigger, wouldn’t it hit your little friend?”

Deacon glances at you quickly, and you lock eyes before you shift away from the oversized desk.

“One more time: drop the gun,” Deacon repeats.

You can’t see Dupree, but you clap your hands over your ears as you hear two shots. Everything goes quiet, and you lean forward slowly to look for Deacon. He kneels before you and gently pulls your hands away from your head. You let him move you before surging forward to hug him. He welcomes you into his arms as footsteps echo in the hallway outside.

“It’s okay. We got him,” Deacon promises.

You nod against Deacon and allow him to help you stand. Deacon keeps you angled away from Dupree’s desk, and you’re happy to avoid looking.

“Did you get everything you need?” you ask quietly as Street and Luca lead a paramedic inside.

“We did. Are you okay?”

Deacon lays a hand on your shoulder, and his thumb presses gently into your tense muscles as he looks into your eyes.

“Get her out of here. Hondo said you can take the rest of the day. Maybe she can practice for the competition,” Luca calls.

“I think you need the practice more than me,” you reply without turning.

Luca laughs as Deacon wraps an arm around your shoulders and leads you out of the office. He takes you back to your desk to get your things, and Nola rushes to hug you when you enter the open area.

“I heard the shots and was so worried!” she exclaims. “You’re okay?”

“I’m fine,” you promise.

“Then I need you to do something. Go home and ask your neighbor out. Don’t wait too long,” she says.

You nod and return to Deacon’s side. He heard everything from where he was standing, yet doesn’t comment as he helps you into the passenger seat of his car. Once you’re on the road, he fills the silence by asking you questions about what you will cook for your competition with Luca. You know he’s trying to distract you from what happened, and you appreciate it.

Back at the station, you sign some paperwork to receive CI benefits before walking to Deacon’s side. He offers to drive you home and keep you company, which you happily accept. You never like leaving Deacon and don’t want to be alone tonight.

“I waited too long,” Deacon murmurs while walking you out.

You stop and turn to face him as you ask, “For what?”

“What your friend said. I waited too long to ask you out.”

You smile and slide your hand into his. “Did you know that Nola looked at us like that because you were standing really close to me?" Deacon shrugs, and you explain, “I never shut up about you, Deac. I’m in love with you, so she was confused about why I was standing so close to another man.”

“Never?” Deacon repeats playfully.

“You didn’t wait too long, Deac,” you promise.

“I didn’t?”

“Not if you take your chance right now.”

Deacon looks around quickly before yelling, “Hicks! Did you file it yet?”

“No; I’m busy, Deacon,” Hicks answers.

“Can you make her Hondo’s CI?”

Hicks looks between the two of you and rolls his eyes. “Yes, I can.”

When Deacon turns back to you, he doesn’t give you time to speak before he asks, “Will you go out with me?”

“Nothing would make me happier,” you answer.

Your smile grows to match Deacon’s, but he makes it disappear when he pulls you in and kisses you. The sound of clapping makes you open your eyes as you pull back. Hondo leads 20 Squad in a round of applause, and you bury your face in Deacon’s chest to hide your grin and burning embarrassment.

“My CI’s never end up like this,” Hondo jokes.

“Pretty good timing, though, wasn’t it?” Deacon asks as he wraps his arms around you.

You stand wordlessly from the couch and walk past Deacon. He turns to watch you as you enter your bathroom and close the door. It only takes a moment for him to decide to follow you.

“Are you okay?” Deacon asks from outside the door. “And don’t just say you’re fine. We both know you’re not.”

You open the door and lean against the vanity as he walks in. “I feel bad that you had to shoot Dupree. I know he’s fine and he’ll recover, pay for him crimes, and everything. But you probably wouldn’t have done that if I wasn’t there.”

“Don’t think like that. If he had refused to drop the gun or fired again, I would have stopped him. Whether you were there or not. The only thing that was different was how fast I decided to do it; he was threatening you, but that didn’t affect my reaction itself.”

You nod, and Deacon places his hands on the vanity, caging you and keeping you close. “Don’t carry that guilt around,” he requests. “It gets heavy quickly.”

You slip your arms under Deacon’s to circle his waist. Because of your position, you look up at him and ask, “Could I have another kiss to help me overcome all of this guilt?”

Deacon laughs as his hand raises to rub your back. “Anything for my accidental CI.”

“I’m Hondo’s CI,” you remind him.

“But I’m the one that gets to kiss you, so who has the better timing?”

You let your kiss answer the question, and when Deacon pulls you against him to be even closer, you know that the wait was worth it. Though you probably won’t agree to go into the office of a weapon trafficker with him again, you will always be ready to help him when he asks and comfort him when he can’t. Despite how much you loved Deacon when you thought you could only be friends, you feel more love now that you know he feels the same.

#hanna writes✯#david deacon kay x reader #deacon kay x reader #david kay x reader #deacon kay fluff #david deacon kay #deacon kay #fem!reader

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becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys · 1 year ago

Note

I'm Irish but work for a UK based company. The English treat us the way that architecture lady did ALL THE TIME. Literally don't bother to know basic things like when our bank holidays are, what relevant laws and industry practices are different in Ireland vs England, we've been assigned HR people who don't know anything about Irish employment law, given 'benefits' we couldn't use because we weren't in the UK, hosted in-person meetings in our offices where English guests keep saying 'here in the UK', we get paid less because instead of adjusting our wages to euro they just changed out the pound sign for a euro sign in our contracts, they refuse to let us use local suppliers for office supplies etc so everything takes longer to arrive and costs more than it does for the rest of the company, during a recent rebrand we were refused a budget for (legally required) Irish-language signage, the list goes on and on.

The irony is that because of the nature of our work we have constant meetings and workshops about acceptance of different nationalities and learning not to discriminate but if we try bringing up how we're discriminated against we get laughed at.

We have colleagues in an office in Scotland who get similar treatment so at least there's some solidarity there, but it's exhausting. It feels like we're fighting a constant battle. And the response we always get to complaints is just 'oh oops silly us' if we get any at all.

English entitlement is very very real and I don't blame you for reaching the end of your rope with that woman.

Oh Jesus Christ that sounds exhausting. And yeah, very familiar. Wales often gets included with the English south west when companies try to do countrywide provision, and what really stands out is the utter lack of consideration or respect for the language and bilingual signage, and Welsh road infrastructure not allowing easy or cheap travel in the same way. "Everyone get to Bristol for this meeting" is far, far harder for mid and north Wales than anywhere else. Plus, getting called a Taffy just casually. Super fun.

My sister used to work for a nationwide charity, actually, based in London. She took over as the organiser for their eight nationwide conferences a year. And the people in the Welsh, Scottish and Northern Irish offices loved her, because she was the first one in years who remembered that they existed, and made an effort to get the conferences to them at least SOME of the time; and the English offices complained each time she did. They thought four should be London (it's easiest to get to!), three in northern England (that's diversity!), and one in Northern Ireland (different landmass so begrudgingly accepted every other year) was reasonable.

Gah. Frustrating as fuck.

#asks #celtophobia

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elizabethwritesmen · 9 months ago

Text

The Devil Wears Lace

chapter 6 : October 28, 2023

pairing: simon “ghost” riley x reader

summary: it’s halloween and your treat is a visit from ghost but it turns into more of a trick when a new bartender gets a little too friendly with him. you do what you’ve got to do to keep his eyes on you and end up with more than you bargained for.

warnings: smut, oral (m and f receiving), degradation and praise, dancing on a bar, public nudity, reader gets harassed again, simon gets angry again, slut shaming and a lot of shit talking about the new bartender goes on in this chapter, i think that’s all but let me know if i missed anything!

series masterlist

October 28, 2023

The bar was having a Halloween party.

I didn’t want to go, I’d been working all day at my new job and was exhausted, but Sabrina insisted.

What was my new job, you might ask? Well, the previous May I’d graduated with a Masters in criminology. I wanted to seek higher education but was still deciding what and where. In the meantime, I was interning at a law office nearby. It paid shockingly well, they were a small practice but extremely successful and valued their employees a lot so they showed it by giving them a lot of money.

I didn’t have time to go pick out a costume, so Sabrina assured me she would get me one, much to my dismay. Due to this, I went there straight after work, bringing my makeup and stuff with me so I could just get ready at the bar like I had many times before.

She met me at the door with a bag and shoved it in my hands, giggling all the while, making me frown. What had she cooked up?

I was mortified when I opened the bag and found combat boots, the smallest black dress I had ever seen, and someone’s fatigue shirt. Whose? I don’t know. I wondered the same thing.

“I am so not wearing this. Somewhere is bound to be open, I’ll go see-“

“NO! You know good and well this is the best way to get these dumbass military boys to buy you drinks.”

“Who says I want these dumbass military boys to buy me drinks?”

“You do, trust me, you need a night of flirting with a bunch of men more than anyone else I know. Now get your sexy ass in the back and get ready!”

I sighed, rolling my eyes so hard I thought they would get stuck that way, and did as she told me, heading to the small room in the back that we usually changed and touched up makeup in. It had bad lighting but we’d placed lamps in front of the mirrors, and it had a small set of lockers for anyone who worked there to put valuables in, but they didn’t actually lock so I didn’t understand the purpose of them.

Once I managed to get everything on, I had to admit I looked good. Turned out the dress was basically just a nearly sheer lace slip, but it blended in perfectly with my black bra and thong, which made it feel just a tad bit more modest than it actually was. The combat boots actually paired well with it and the fatigue shirt. I already had gold jewelry on, and I just kept it, thinking it made the look even a little better. All that was left was to touch up my makeup and curls.

Once I stepped out into the bar area, leaving my clothes behind trusting nothing would happen to them, I was bombarded by Sabrina, Dylan, and the new bartender who’d taken my place. She was cute, honestly, tall and skinny with big dimples on her cheeks. I figured she was doing well, and she seemed nice.

“You look so good!” They told me, fawning over me. I laughed, waving them off, sitting at the bar and waiting for it to get busy. It always did on the night of the Halloween party, without fail.

The music was loud, and all of it was either dark and sexy or Halloween themed. Decorations were hung up, less in depth than I usually did. Sabrina always hated decorating and I guess the new girl did, too.

“Hey,” Sabrina sat next to me, “It feels like it’s been forever!”

“It’s been like, three days,” I deadpanned, brows furrowed and she laughed.

“Yeah, but we used to spend damn near every day together. It’s so lame here without you.”

“But you have that new girl, right? She seems nice, maybe you could be friends.”

She rolled her eyes and I got comfier in my seat, knowing she was about to tell me all about the drama. “She’s awful.”

“I gathered that from the eye roll, now spill!”

“Alright, so when she first got here, she acted like she was just really eager to learn. Then ‘eager to learn’ turned into ‘eager to feel up my husband every chance she got.’ Fucking slut.”

I gasped, leaning in farther, “She felt up Dylan?”

“Yes!” she sounded exasperated, “He was showing her how to make a couple drinks and she just got right up on his side and started rubbing his arms and his back!”

“That bitch,” I furrowed my brows.

“I know! So he told me to take over showing her the ropes, and I have, but I wanna just fuckin’ fire the stupid cunt. She’s an idiot anyway and she can’t do anything right!”

“Well then why hasn’t he fired her yet?”

“Because his dad is wrapped around her finger and doesn’t want him to.”

“That bitch!” I huffed, “Well if she touches him again I’ll beat her ass for you. I don’t work here anymore, I can’t get in trouble.”

“I know you will. Just tell me first so I can film it, we’ll pop some popcorn and have a movie night.”

I raised my drink and she clinked it with her own, taking a sip with me. I eyed the new girl, in awe that she could seem so nice but be such a snake.

Around 9, the place was full, and I was dancing with a few friends that had shown up. We were just jumping around on the floor, a few guys around us dancing with us. It was fun, more fun than I’d had in a while.

I didn’t even notice they’d shown up until one of my friends started talking about the sexy guy in the mask. I furrowed my eyebrows, hope sparking in my chest as I looked around and saw him at the bar, the new girl in front of him, leaned over, giving him a front row seat to her tits. I nearly fumed, excusing myself and briskly making my way over.

I stood behind him for a second, trying to catch a hint of their conversation. It didn’t seem like he was giving her much from what I could tell, and she seemed to be getting more and more desperate for his attention by the second.

“Ghost,” I cleared my throat from behind him.

“I was wondering how long it’d take you to realize I was here.” He spoke without even turning around. The new girl made her way to the other side of the bar, giving him a moment alone.

“Maybe I was waiting for you to come to me.”

“You looked like you were having fun, didn’t want to disturb you.”

“I was,” I sighed, “Are you gonna look at me? Or are you gonna keep staring at her tits?”

He chuckled, turning around fully to face me in his seat. My breath hitched, I didn’t expect him to do that.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” he patronized me, “You wanted my attention now you got it.”

I took a few steps closer to him, “Just a little sad. See, you’re supposed to be looking at me.”

“Well, I’m looking at you now,” his voice was low and dark and his hands settled on my hips, pulling me a little closer, “What’re you wanting, huh? A compliment? Want me to tell you how good you look in this little piece of fabric you call a dress?” I nodded frantically, biting my lips and his eyes followed the motion, “You haven’t earned it.”

I gasped, eyes widening and he laughed again, this time fuller. His hands tightened on my hips as he lifted me into the stool beside him, gesturing new girl over and ordering me and Malibu Pineapple. I caught the dirty look she sent me, but I didn’t have a fuck to give. My brain was short circuiting over the way he just.. lifted me into the chair, and the way he remembered what I wanted to drink.

“Thank you,” I offered him a smile, taking a sip.

“Probably not the first free drink you’ve gotten tonight.”

“No, it’s not. But it’s my favorite free drink I’ve gotten tonight.”

“Suck up.”

“I would, if you’d just give me the chance,” I winked and the whites of his eyes showed a little more for a second as he widened them.

“You’re impossible.”

“Then why do you keep coming back for more?”

My hands were on his thighs then, both of us facing each other in our chairs, and I let my hands roam slightly but not to anywhere too scandalous.

“Guess what the fuck that bitch just did!” Sabrina’s voice broke the trance, and I looked at her expectantly, “She said you cockblocked her and started whining about you. Like I’m gonna choose her side over yours, be fuckin’ for real for a second!”

I raised my eyebrows, “Cockblocked, huh? Sounds like new girl wants you bad, Ghost.” He grunted in response, lifting his mask to take a sip of his whiskey. “Don’t moan and groan at me, you were the one undressing her with your eyes. Want me to get her number for you? Maybe you can take her home.”

Sabrina looked at a loss for words, and her eyebrows were raised in concern but she saw her way out of the situation. Smart choice.

“Sweetheart, stop.” His voice was a command. Deep and final. But I just couldn’t leave well enough alone.

“Oh, honey, I’m just getting started,” With that, I was up and across the bar, dancing with my friends again and trying to ignore him. A few guys came up to me, one wrapping his arm around me and trying to grind on me but I pushed him away a little with a laugh.

“You can buy me a drink, but you can’t touch,” I teased, but my face went dark and his hand landed a smack on my ass.

“If you didn’t wanna be touched, why’d you wear this?” he asked me, leaning his head down for a kiss that I dodged, elbowing him hard in his chest.

“My outfit isn’t a free pass to touch me, you stupid fuck.”

“At least I’m not a stupid slut,” he slapped my ass again, but this time I was ready for him. I grabbed his arm and twisted hard, wrenching it around behind him. Once I had him where I wanted him, I kicked the back of his knee and sent him to the floor, me standing over him and holding him hostage there.

“You want a broken arm? Because you’re sure asking for one.” My tone was angry, forceful, more assertive than I could ever remember it being.

“Fuck, get off of me,” he growled, trying to pull away but I twisted harder and he let out a gasp.

“Get the fuck out of the bar, and don’t come back until you can learn to keep your hands to yourself,” I growled at him, letting him go just to kick him in the back and send him all the way to the floor in a heap. He turned over and laid there, staring up at me.

“That’s not your choice to make,” he smirked, still cocky after what had just happened and I raised a brow.

“No, it’s mine, and I agree with her. Get out.” Dylan’s voice was like a lifeline as he grabbed the guy by the shirt and pushed him out of the doors. I breathed a sigh of relief when he was gone. “Good job, killer,” he high fived me and I grinned, “If you didn’t have that fancy new job I’d ask you to be the new security guard.”

I giggled as he walked away, trying to come down from the adrenaline of everything. The bustle around me made it hard, though, so I walked outside, holding myself tight to battle the cold. I heard the door open and shut behind me and imagined it was Sabrina, but I knew I was wrong when he walked towards me, his heavy footsteps giving him away.

“You alright?” he asked me, and I turned around slowly, nodding.

“I’m fine.”

“That was pretty impressive, what you did in there. Maybe you can take care of yourself.”

“I’ve told you that a million times but you had to see it to believe it, huh,” I chuckled but my words were venom, staring down at my feet.

“You gonna tell me why you’re acting like this?” he changed the subject.

I responded with a quick, “No.” He looked frustrated, speechless almost.

“You can just tell me you’re jealous. It’s obvious enough.”

“Jealous? Of what? Sally McSlutface laying her boobs out on the bar like a personal menu for you? Yeah, I’m green with envy, let me tell you,” my tone was biting, sarcasm laced in every word, pure hate dripping from me when I talked about her. Maybe she hadn’t done anything to deserve it. Maybe Ghost wasn’t mine and I had no claim to him. Maybe he could talk to whoever the hell he wanted and look at whatever the hell he wanted.

He breathed out a laugh, staring at the sky hopelessly, begging for the patience he needed to deal with me. “You are green.” His eyes snapped back down to me. “Whose shirt you got on, anyway? One of these soldiers that comes in here and hits on you? What’d you have to do for it?”

“I didn’t do anything for it, asshole, I don’t know whose it is.”

“Right, that makes sense,” his tone was patronizing again and it set me on fire, anger building inside of me.

“You’re gonna get mad about me wearing someone else’s fatigues when you’re in there eyeing up that dumb bitch like she’s fucking candy or something? You fucking asshole.”

“I’m not mad, baby, you’re the only one that’s mad,” but he sure sounded mad, and I didn’t believe a word that came out of his mouth. I didn’t even dwell on the word baby.

“I’m not mad!” I yelled, then tried to calm myself down, “You know what? Go fuck her. See how much I care. I have my own plans for the night.”

I attempted to walk past him, but he grabbed my arm, stopping me in my tracks. “Don’t do anything stupid just because you’re throwing a fit like a fucking brat.”

“Wanna see how much of a brat I am?” I couldn’t tell whether my words were foreboding or inviting. “Come back inside.”

I shook away from him and stormed into the bar, beelining it to Sabrina and Dylan.

“Remember two years ago when I danced on the bar for Halloween?”

“Yeah,” they both nodded.

“I’m doing it again. Put on the song.”

Their eyebrows were raised but they nodded, and Dylan went to the stereo system to get it going.

“You good?”

“I’m fine. I’m taking your advice and moving on. Or showing him what he’s missing. Whatever, I don’t give a fuck. Plus it’ll make that new girl mad.”

“Well, when you put it that way,” she grinned, “Get your fine ass up there and show them who’s boss!”

I grinned back as the familiar tune began. I made my way onto the bar and some of the guys there noticed and began to gather around. Right at that moment, Ghost walked back inside and the second his eyes found me, he looked homicidal.

I began swaying my hips to the beat, winking at him and increasing my movement with every lyric.

Heaven help me, the devil wears lace and she can’t be tamed.

If I were wealthy, spend every last dime just to hear her say my name.

I flipped my hair around, slipping the big shirt off and throwing it to Sabrina who was watching from behind the bar with a huge smile on her face. She handed me a bottle, one of the cheapest liquors they had as the chorus hit.

So light me in flames

Just as hot as you need

Let me see the good girl you wanted to be

I turned my back to the group of people gawking and cheering, bending over and reaching between my spread out legs to pour two shots worth of liquid into one of the guy’s mouths, which brought on more cheers.

My eyes caught his as I turned back around and felt myself up, hands sliding from my chest to my thighs, squeezing the fat there as my motions got sharper with every beat.

All of my praise, only from me

I can be the one who can set you free

He made his way over to the bar and I grinned, turning my back again and doing a small spin, hanging on to the rail at the top of the bar for support then shimmying down, surely flashing some people but I wasn’t concerned.

Fall from your grace

Turn up the heat

I feel I’m going down, hands gripping the sheets

I sat sideways on the bar, leaning back on my arms and arching tightly with my head thrown back, then turned over and raised my hips, arms stretched in front of me and ass on display and he snapped. He ripped his jacket off and threw it over me, hauling me off the bar and outside. The people there seemed dumbstruck, and I barely heard the end of the chorus before the door shut.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” he growled, setting me down in front of him.

“Do I have to think about everything I do before I do it?”

He let out a sharp laugh, “You are the most danger prone girl I have ever known. Yes, you have to think about dumbass decisions before you make them.”

“All I did was dance on a bar,” I rolled my eyes, pulling his jacket tighter around me in the cold.

“Yeah, right, that’s all you did. Now everyone in there has seen your ass, you feel good about that?”

I set my jaw, letting it tick as I thought over my answer. “You’re talking to me like I’m some kind of whore. Maybe I just wanted your attention.”

“You have that already. Give me a real reason.”

“Maybe I just wanted the attention you gave her.”

“What attention? You’re so fucking delusional. I didn’t even look at her. I don’t give a fuck about her. I came here for you. My team came here for you, and they’re in there having the time of their lives because they got more of you than they bargained for. There’s only one girl that I want to drive me up the fucking wall, and it’s not her!” he was yelling, seething really, his tone harsh and cutting deep but then I let his words settle in along with the feeling of stupidity.

“Ghost, I-“

“Fuck, don’t call me that, my name is Simon,” his voice was still raised and it’s like he didn’t even realize what he’d said until it was out, and we were both taken harshly aback.

I let my mouth drop open a little, taking one step closer to him.

“Simon,” I tried it out and I liked the way it felt rolling off my tongue. I think he liked it too, judging by the way his face softened and his eyes darkened. “Forgive me,” I implored, getting further into his personal space. Crowding him out, really, until my perfume must’ve been suffocating him, thinly veiled by the jacket he’d thrown over me. He didn’t answer. “Forgive me,” I repeated, urgently this time. “Want me to get on my knees and beg? I will. Not for anyone else, but for you, I’ll do it.” He just kept staring at me as I rambled on, “I was jealous, Simon. So jealous, can’t help it with the way she was looking at you. Had me so angry-“

He cut me off, yanking his mask up to his nose and grabbing my throat, pulling me to him and kissing me. I yelped, shocked by the impact, but it only took me seconds to fall into a rhythm, melting where I stood and whimpering for more.

“Such a little slut, begging for me like this and I haven’t even touched you,” he groaned, pulling away to kiss down my neck. I let out a shaky moan, arching into him as his mouth drifted lower.

“Fuck, Simon, please,” I whined, and he laughed.

“I should’ve told you my name a long time ago,” he mused as he brought his mouth back to mine, claiming it as his own. He backed me slowly into the wall, huge hands circling under my thighs and lifting until my legs were wrapped around him and I was caged in his arms.

I got more desperate, squeezing him closer and breaking the kiss to groan when he pressed into me. He was big. Big was an understatement.

“Don’t think that’s gonna fit,” I breathed out and he laughed, nuzzling into me.

“Not tonight it’s not.”

“What?” I was panicking, the need for him growing in me with every passing second.

“Not gonna take you for the first time after a fight like that, baby,” he kissed me again, “Gonna make you wait for it.”

“I’ve been waiting-“

“Don’t whine,” he shut me up, “Makes me want you too bad. Now come on, let’s go back in.”

I pouted as he set me on my feet, all turned on with nowhere to let it out. I followed him as he dragged me inside, pulling his mask down at the same time.

We garnered some stares as we walked in, hand in hand, people obviously knowing exactly what was going on. There were some surprised looks, I wasn’t exactly known for being seen with a man or even settling for a man at all. People were used to be flitting about, flirting but never enough to care.

“Everything okay?” Soap asked as we approached their table, where Sabrina and Dylan were already standing, chatting away.

“We’re just fine,” Simon nodded, and I stayed quiet, blush on my cheeks still, and my eyes might as well have had hearts in them as I gazed at him.

“You’ve got a little… bruise….” Sabrina muttered, grazing her thumb over a spot on my neck and I gasped, pulling the jacket up higher. Everyone laughed at that, and it looked like even Simon smirked but I couldn’t quite tell under the mask.

He pulled out a chair for me and one for himself right beside me and I sat down. They kept cracking their little jokes and I kept not saying much, too lost in thought. I wanted him and I wanted him bad.

I placed my hand on his thigh, rubbing slightly and making my way further and further up. He slapped it away but I just put it back, continuing my ascent. “If I leave, will you follow me?” I whispered the question in his ear, and he just looked at me, but the way his eyes grazed over me let me know he was on the hook. I smirked, pulling my hand away and fleeing to the back room.

The new girl came in behind me, her face twisted in blatant annoyance.

“You can’t be back here,” she spat.

“Yet somehow, I am,” I giggled, waving her away, “Anything else?”

“I thought you were nice when I first met you earlier, but you’re really just a bitch, huh?” I cocked a brow as she let those words slip.

“Do you want to find out just how much of a bitch I am?” I questioned, and she didn’t back down. “Get out. Now. Go ride a dick in the bathroom or something like you’ve been trying to all night.”

“I think I will, in fact I think I’ll go for that man in the mask,” she smirked and before I could even laugh, he came in.

“Fuck off,” he grunted, “This seat’s taken.”

I snorted and she just gawked.

“She isn’t even supposed to be in here!” she huffed.

“Go tattle on her, then,” he barked, and she jumped, making her way out of the room. Once we were alone, he closed the door, turning the lock behind him. I smirked, walking towards him slowly, slipping the jacket further and further off with every step until it was on the floor.

“Just gonna leave my jacket on the ground like that?” he asked.

“Don’t worry, I’ll make up for it,” I winked, finally reaching him and placing my hands on his chest, balling them in the thin fabric of his shirt.

“Sweetheart,” he groaned, “You’re playing a dangerous game.”

“I don’t care, as long as I win,” I clicked my tongue, sinking slowly down to one knee, and then the other.

He let out a ragged breath as my hands slid down, tugging his belt until it was unbuckled and sliding out of the loops. Then I got his button and zipper undone, pulling down just enough to expose his boxers slightly.

“Aw, my poor Simon, you just wanted me to touch you, huh?” I cooed, pulling the boxers down enough to expose the tip. “I got you this turned on, baby?”

“Don’t forget your place,” he growled, but his actions were sweet as he brushed my hair back from my face lightly.

“I know my place,” I smiled, “On my knees with my mouth wrapped around you.”

He all but growled, hips bucking into my touch. When I raised a brow, he admitted, “Been a while.”

“For me, too,” I offered, hoping it would make him feel better, before pulling his boxers down further and exposing the entirety of him.

“Fuck,” I gasped, “You’re huge.”

“Gonna keep talking about it or put your mouth on it?”

I didn’t need any more encouragement, getting straight to work, starting with a stripe licked up the back and ending by sucking the tip into my mouth, twirling my tongue around it teasingly.

“Fuck, please,” he breathed out, hand pulling my hair tighter as I took more of him. I had to ease my way down to adjust my throat, but once I got as much as I could in, I started moving back and forth. He held me there until my eyes were teary and wet, my throat completely expanded, and I let him use me.

“Wanna see you,” he told me and I nodded as well as I could, humming around him and pulling my dress and bra down to expose myself, the air making my nipples hard as they’d ever been. I’m sure he had something to do with that, too. “So fucking - agh - perfect, so perfect for me, fuck please keep going,” he sounded broken, but not in the same way other men I’d been with did. He sounded needy, like he’d been waiting his whole life for that one moment and he never wanted it to end. I’d never felt that from anyone before, and I wanted more of it so I got greedier with him in my mouth, savoring the weight of him on my tongue.

“Fuck, y’gonna make me cum,” he gasped, squeezing my hair to pull me back a little as his hips stuttered. It was a sweet gesture, to keep from hurting me with his movements, and I moaned around him, which seemed to tumble him right over the edge. He groaned with one last thrust of his hips and pulled out just enough for me to open my mouth wide and stick out my tongue, letting him let go right there inside of it. He watched closely as he did so, enjoying every second, right to when I swallowed it all.

I grinned after he came down, pulling his boxers back up and doing his pants back up for him then standing and wiping my mouth gently.

“See you out there,” I winked as I began to walk past him, but he grabbed me by the arm and pulled me back to him, picking me up and bringing me to the small bench in the corner. He laid me on it, pulling me to the edge and kneeling in front of me, eyes dark on me.

“What’re you doin’?” I asked, breath coming out quicker, heart racing.

“Showing you what your place is, since you’re a little confused,” his voice was rough as he hooked a finger in my panties, pulling them off of me swiftly, “It’s laid out with your legs spread wipe open just for me.”

I gasped, squirming under his gaze as he brought a finger down to swipe through my folds.

“Please,” I whimpered, and he chuckled.

“That’s it, what a good little slut, begging me to touch you. What do you want from me baby? Want my fingers in this little cunt?”

I nodded frantically, eyes wide and pleading, and he obliged, ripping his gloves off and slipping one finger in. I let out a broken moan as he went in and out, thinking it couldn’t possible get better but then it did as he slipped in two, fucking me with his digits, curling them around that spongy spot inside of me.

“Simon, I - fuck - please -!” he went a little faster, and I tried my best not to scream but it was so hard.

Then, all at once, he went away.

“What are you-“

“I’m not goin’ anywhere, calm down,” he shushed me and I relaxed, lying back and watching as he grabbed his jacket. He walked over to me, placing one of the sleeves over my eyes and tying it behind me, making a blindfold of sorts.

“What’s this for?” I asked, and I heard a bit of movement and something being set down before he grabbed my hands and lifted them to his face, laying them down there on bare skin.

I gasped, feeling around, greedy for more then I found it in his hair. I tugged lightly, loving how it felt in my fingers, and he groaned. Before I could even process his bare face, he’d leaned down and kissed me again, his fingers going back to where I needed him most and pushing back in. I rutted against him desperately as his tongue explored my mouth, then moved downwards. To my neck, then my chest, spending a little extra time there teasing me, then down my belly and to where his fingers were.

He circled his tongue around my clit and electricity shot through me as I let out a shriek, my legs falling over his shoulders and pulling him closer as my hand fisted in his hair. He lapped at me like a man starved, working harder for me than anyone ever had, coaxing me farther and farther open until I didn’t feel like I could even inhale. He noticed, pulling away just enough to rasp, “Breathe, baby. I’ve got you, just relax and let me make you cum.”

I moaned again, back arching as I began feeling that peak inside of me getting closer and closer. He could feel it too, so he sped up his movements and added another finger, tipping me over the edge and fucking me through it as I wailed. What felt like forever later, I collapsed in a heap, gasping for breath.

A minute later, he took the jacket off of my face and I pouted when I saw his mask was back on, as well as his gloves. I started to get up but he stopped me with a hand on my chest, laying me back down.

“Hold on,” he ordered and I did, watching him look around for a second before coming back with a little towel he’d found. He carefully cleaned me up, and I watched him in a daze, those dangerous feelings bubbling up in my chest once more. I was a goner for him, and suddenly the thought that he had to leave soon hit me and my eyes were getting hot.

“I’m gonna keep these,” he smirked as he pocketed my underwear, and I nodded, staring at the ceiling. He got quiet, taking note of my attitude change and furrowing his brows. “What’s wrong?” I didn’t answer and panic set in. “Was that not okay? Did you not want that? Fuck - I’m sorry, I-“

“No,” I shook my head, “I wanted it. It was good. Perfect, even. I just… I feel like I can’t tell you what’s wrong.”

“Why?”

“Because you’ll laugh at me.”

“Promise I won’t.”

“You have to leave. I just feel…”

“Used?”

“No,” I placed my hand on his to quiet those thoughts in his head, sitting up carefully, pulling my dress back to somewhat modesty. “Sad.”

“Oh,” he said, seeming surprised. “You know, sweetheart, I’m not the kind of man you wanna care about.”

“It’s a little too late for that.”

“I’ll be back. I promise I will.”

“And if you can’t keep that promise?”

“I can.”

The tears fell then and he sat beside me, pulling me into his arms as I cried. “Shh,” he whispered, “It’s okay. I’ll be back. Just let it out.” His hand was rubbing circles on my back, easing some of the pain. I couldn’t believe how vulnerable I was being, but I felt completely wrecked and he hadn’t even fucked me, and now he had to leave. Of course I was vulnerable,

I stopped crying, pulling slightly away from him and wiping my face as best I could.

“We should go back out there. Try to have a good night.”

“Baby, I’ve already had a good night,” he chuckled and I let out a little giggle too.

“Okay, then let’s try to keep the good night going. Come on. There’s no telling what they’ve said about us by now.”

“Probably nothing that wasn’t true.”

“Yeah…” I mumbled, “We haven’t been too subtle, huh?”

“I think when you showed your ass to everybody in the bar, subtlety went out the window.”

“Probably,” I laughed, standing up and bringing him with me. He slipped the jacket back over my shoulders as we walked out.

“You don’t have underwear on, I’m doing damage control.”

Just as I expected, everyone picked on us, and the night was full of endless innuendos. I just stayed quiet and shy, gazing at Simon, and it almost seemed like he was gazing back. He kept either his arm around me or his hand on my leg for the whole rest of the night, seeming like he didn’t want to let me go.

Unfortunately, the time came that he had to, and we all parted ways and he walked me to my car, still holding me to his side.

“You gonna be ok?” he asked, hand cupping my cheek as I stared at him with those same heart eyes I had for him before.

“I think so,” I grinned and his eyes fell to my lips.

“I meant what I said,” he told me, “I’ll be back for you.”

“I’ll be waiting,” I hummed, pulling him a little closer until I was trapped between him and my car, but there was nowhere else I’d rather be.

He lifted his mask to his nose again and I smiled, knowing what was coming. His mouth fell down to mine, slower than before but just as intense. It was short and sweet, but memorable, and I chased him as he pulled away.

“Go home, sweetheart,” he mumbled, kissing me on the forehead before putting some distance between us. He started to pull his mask down but I stopped him, jumping on him one last time in a panic and kissing him with everything I had. It lasted longer and left us both breathless. When I finally stepped back, he just smiled at me, and I realized it was the first time I’d seen his real smile. It was the prettiest thing I’d ever had the luxury of seeing, and I pouted when he covered it up.

“Please stay safe,” I told him, finally letting his hand go and getting in my car.

#simon riley smut #simon riley x reader smut #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader smut #ghost x reader #cod smut #simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #simon ghost x you #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost smut

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lunarbuck · 2 years ago

Text

The Kiss (prof!bucky x f!reader)

AU- Professor/Student

Pairing: professor!bucky x f!reader (any race)

WC: 4.2k

Summary: You’ve always had a crush on Professor Barnes… little did you know he has been hiding some feelings of his own

Warnings: age difference, fluff, oral (f receiving), smut (p in v), pet names (Sir, sweetheart, baby), praise

A/N: this is my entry for @the-slumberparty Week 4 challenge! the AU I got was professor/student and I've been wanting to write this for a long time!!! I hope you guys enjoy <3

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“That’s it for today. You’re all dismissed.” Book bags and jackets zip loudly as the small lecture center begins to empty. You start packing up your things, but you don’t get out of your seat yet. This certainly has been your favorite of all the classes you’ve taken in the past four years. White Collar Crime, taught by Professor Barnes, is one of the most interesting courses you’ve taken, and you also love the professor.

Prof. Barnes is a lawyer by day, and a lecturer by evening, as he says. And though he’s often incredibly busy with cases, it's easy to see how passionate he is about teaching. You watch as he packs up his belongings, a few students quickly asking him questions about the upcoming exam. Prof. Barnes used to seem scary and intimidating to you, but after a few weeks, you started catching glimpses of his grin, of light in his eye, and you’ve been a goner ever since.

His features are sharp, and he always looks so put together. His brown hair is clipped close on the sides and kept short on top, which suits his personality well. His broody exterior is one that most people fear, but it just draws you in, and you can’t seem to stay away.

You grab your things and start toward the front of the room. Typically, you make up a question as an excuse to talk to him, but today you have a real one. You’re the last student in the room, and Prof. Barnes is already watching you approach.

“Hi,” you greet, rocking back and forth on your heels momentarily. “Last week, you mentioned being able to go over our exam answers with you, so we know what to study. Could I schedule time with you to do that?” You do your best not to let your eyes drift from his, but it’s tough. His shirts are always perfectly tailored to him, showing off his broad shoulders and strong legs.

Prof. Barnes doesn’t smile, but you can see the warmth in his eyes, which is better, in your opinion. “Of course. Do you have time now? This was my last class of the evening, so we can just go right to my office.” Your heart stutters in your chest at his words. You’ve gone to his office hours a few times, but there’ve always been other students outside or in the office with you. You’ve never been alone with him like that.

And as it turns out, you don’t have anything going on for the rest of the night. “That works for me,” you say, grinning. Prof. Barnes leads the way out of the lecture hall and to the building where his office is. Even though neither of you speaks the entire way, you’re buzzing. He walks close enough that sometimes your arms brush, and you can smell his cologne.

When you arrive in his office, Prof. Barnes instructs you to sit across from him at his desk while he gets everything ready. The office is filled with books and papers, organized in a way that doesn’t quite make sense to you, but you can imagine it’s perfect for Prof. Barnes. Your eyes trail over the spines of the books, and you notice that not all are law books, but many of them are classics.

“So, here’s your last exam,” he says, pulling your attention back to him. Prof. Barnes has laid out your scantron page as well as the exam itself, and has your grades pulled up on his computer. “You did very well, which I’m not surprised by, and the questions you did get wrong, the whole class struggled with.” Your mind short-circuits as he speaks. He’s paid enough attention to you not to be surprised by your good grade? The class itself isn’t very big, all things considered, but there are 50 students, and this isn’t the only class he teaches.

“Oh, thank you, Sir,” you reply shyly, surprised that that’s what you called him. You’ve never addressed him that way, but you love how it felt. The corner of his mouth tips up into an almost smile as he suppresses a slight shiver.

“You don’t have to call me that,” he adds, flipping through the exam booklet. You quirk an eyebrow, silently asking him to elaborate, but he doesn’t. He finds the first question you got wrong. “So here’s what you said,” he points to your answer on the scantron. “What do you think the right answer is?”

His bright blue eyes watch you as you think, tracing over your features like he’s trying to analyze you. You try not to shrink under his gaze.

“Differential association?” You suggest, not entirely sure of the response, but the way Prof. Barnes’ eyes light up tells you you’re right.

“Correct,” he says, marking down your answer on a new sheet of paper. “Good girl.” The words slip out, almost as if he didn’t mean for you to hear them, but you did, and they go straight to your lower belly, lighting a spark. Prof. Barnes doesn’t acknowledge what he’s said, opting to continue through the other questions you missed.

Each time you answer a question correctly, he smiles a little more, and looks a little more pleased. But all you can focus on is how he called you ‘good girl’. It echoes through your head, making your heart beat faster and heat lick in your belly.

As you answer the last question, Prof. Barnes’ tongue traces over his lower lip. Your eyes track the movement, and you suck in a breath. He nods, indicating your answer is correct and clasps his hands on the desk.

“You’re more than ready for the exam,” he tells you, keeping eye contact. “You need to give yourself more credit, and trust that you know the answer. You’re smart. Trust your gut, okay?” You nod, unable to tear your eyes away from his.

“Thank you, Sir,” you say, voice breathy. Alarm bells go off in your head that you’ve definitely alerted Prof. Barnes to the state that you’re in, but honestly, you don’t care. You’re sure women throw themselves at him constantly, probably even some students. He’s handsome in that classic way, strong features and bright eyes. He knows he’s attractive; he knows people want him.

He’s close enough that if you leaned in a bit, you could kiss him. You’re desperate to know what his lips would feel like against yours, what he’d taste like. Would he hold your face to lead the kiss? Would his fingers tangle in your hair?

Even though you don’t want to, you stand and gather your things. As you walk toward the door, you hear Prof. Barnes approach. He reaches the door before you and stands in front of it, blocking your exit.

He opens his mouth but closes it immediately like he isn’t sure what to say. His eyebrows furrow, and he takes a deep breath. “You liked it,” he states, as if that’s enough information for you to go off of. When you don’t respond, he continues. “You liked when you called me ‘sir’ and when I said you were a good girl.” His voice doesn’t waver, but he fists his hands like he’s holding himself back from something.

Your lips fall open, stunned at his observation. The way he’s speaking to you now makes the coil in your belly tighten, thinking about how he’d called you a good girl only fueling the feeling.

“You’re easy to read,” he continues. “You always stay after class to ask me questions. You come to my office hours when we both know damn well you don’t need the help. You bit your lip when you called me ‘sir’. You shivered when I called you ‘good girl’.” Your breathing has sped up, causing your chest to heave.

You don’t know what to say. You’re not sure you’d know how to speak even if you had the words.

“You thought I wouldn't figure it out, didn’t you, sweetheart?” He steps toward you, grips your jacket, which you’ve been clutching to your chest this whole time, and tugs it from your arms. “You thought I hadn’t seen you, that I hadn’t noticed you.”

You nod as he closes the distance between you. His smell invades your nostrils, making you feel dizzy.

“Well, I noticed, sweetheart.” Prof. Barnes places his hands on the sides of your jaw, thumbs brushing over your cheeks. He’s giving you time to pull away, giving you an out. But you don’t want it. You rest your hands in the bend of his arms and nod, giving him the permission he needs.

Prof. Barnes leans in and kisses you, pressing his lips gently to yours. He tilts your head slightly like you imagined he would, but you could never have imagined how soft his lips are. How good it feels to have his breath wash over your cheek. He tastes like coffee and something sweet, something distinctly him. He pulls you closer, removing the small space between your bodies, leaving you pressed against his chest. Prof. Barnes’ left hand leaves your face, shifting to cup the side of your neck before sliding down your back. It settles on your lower back, pressing you into him even more.

You whimper into the kiss at the feeling of him, of being so close, and he takes the opportunity to nip at your bottom lip. When he pulls away, you’re breathless. “You taste so sweet,” he muses, a smile growing on his face. “Just like I knew you would.”

For the next two weeks, Professor Barnes cancels class. Even when he’s busy with a case, he never cancels; he just switches the class to online. You can’t help but feel like it’s because of you. Because of the kiss.

The kiss.

It plays on repeat in your head; it follows you into your dreams. How his lips molded to yours and his hands held your head, how they pressed you into him. It was all so perfect; it felt so right. But maybe it didn’t feel that way for Prof. Barnes. After he’d kissed you, you’d stayed for a little longer, wrapped up in him, but he got a call and had to leave right after. He’d kissed you on the way out, saying he’d see you soon, but you haven’t.

You were supposed to have Prof. Barnes’ class today. It was supposed to be a review day for the exam next class, but again, class is canceled. Once you finish your morning classes, you have no reason to stay on campus, so you start walking back to your apartment. Your phone buzzes, and when you pull it out, you find another text from your roommate begging you to go out tonight. You’ve been trying to get out of it, but you’re in the mood for a distraction, so you give in.

Later that night, you find yourself at one of the bars near campus. It’s not as packed as you thought, so you go to the bar and almost immediately get the bartender’s attention. He leans over the bar to hear you better, but you don’t miss the way his eyes roam over your figure before reaching your eyes again.

“What can I getcha?” He asks, giving you a smile. You rattle off your order and something for your roommate and make pleasant, if not flirtatious, conversation with the bartender. He’s cute but not really your type. Your type these days has been older, broodier, more intense…

You need to stop thinking about Professor Barnes. You need to get him out of your system.

The bartender, whose name you’ve learned is Troy, sets your drinks down in front of you with a wink, and you smile in return, sliding the cash over to him. Your roommate grabs her drink quickly before running off to say hi to one of her other friends, leaving you at the bar alone. You turn around to find somewhere a little less crowded when you feel someone’s eyes on you.

It takes you a second, but your gaze connects with two familiar bright blue eyes, and your breath catches in your throat.

Bucky

She saw me.

I watch as the bartender gets her attention again, and though I can’t hear what they’re saying, I see her smile at him. I clench my teeth at the sight. The bartender slides something across the bar to her, and she looks surprised but accepts it, tucking it into the back pocket of her tight jeans.

She looks incredible tonight in her fitted shirt and those jeans that make her ass look perfect. The bartender gets pulled away to do his job, and I watch as the woman that has occupied my thoughts for so long turns back around and finds me in the crowd.

She is like a ray of fucking sunshine, so bright in my life, and as she walks toward me slowly, I can practically feel her warmth already. She approaches me tentatively like she’s worried I’ll disappear the moment she gets close enough to touch.

“Professor Barnes,” she whispers, but I hear her despite the noise of the crowd. It’s pathetic, the way my cock hardens just at her voice, but she has me wrapped around her little finger, whether she realizes it or not.

“Sweetheart,” I reply. I don’t miss the way she shivers, the way heat flares in her eyes.

“Where’ve you been?” She asks, fiddling with the straw in her drink. She’s avoiding eye contact, but I want to see her beautiful eyes. I stand, towering over her, and that gets her attention. She tilts her head up, and I have to stifle a groan at the sight of her looking up at me with those doe eyes.

“Did you miss me, sweetheart?” She nods just a little as if her head did it without her mind’s consent. I let my fingers trail up her bare arm, her skin soft against my calloused hand, until my hand cups her jaw. She leans into my touch, and I brush my thumb over her cheek.

I lean in, getting close enough that her shaking breaths fan over my face, and whisper, “I missed you too.” She tilts her head to try and kiss me, but I hold her face still. We’re in a bar on campus full of students. I can’t risk us being seen like this. Even touching her is dangerous.

“Oh.” She sounds defeated, and my chest squeezes. I’m not rejecting her. Quite the opposite, actually.

“The things I want to do to you, sweetheart,” I tell her, leaning my forehead against hers. “I cannot do in this bar.” Her breath stutters and her eyes glaze over with need. She quickly downs her drink and finds her roommate to tell her she’s leaving. When she returns to me, her nerves and excitement pour from her, and I feel myself beginning to smile.

“Where are we going?” She asks, her tongue darting out to wet her lower lip. I tangle my fingers with her and tug her toward the door. My car is parked a block away. I didn’t drink. I didn’t come here to drink, so I’m good to drive.

The drive to my place is only about 10 minutes, but it feels like hours. I grip the steering wheel so tightly that my knuckles go pale. I’m desperate to taste her again, to feel her writhing against me. I’d wanted to take her right then and there in my office, but it was too risky. I’m so close to having her after waiting for what’s felt like forever.

We pull into the driveway of my house, and I watch her take a deep breath. I can tell she’s nervous, but I also see the way she’s watching my every move, the way she so clearly wants me.

I shut the front door behind her, and I’m on her. I press her back against the door and kiss her. She tastes so fucking good, so soft and sweet against my lips. She grips my jacket as my fingers tangle in her hair. My tongue swipes across the seam of her lips, and she opens for me with a moan.

“You’re so sweet, baby,” I whisper against her lips. She shudders, arching against me. My cock is hard in my jeans, and I grind against her to show her just how much she affects me. I kiss her again, drinking in the way she reacts to every touch.

“Please,” she moans. I pull back slightly and take in the way her face is twisted in pleasure.

“Please, what, sweetheart?” She furrows her brows in frustration, and I can’t help but smirk as she does it. She’s so worked up, but I want her begging.

She pants for a moment before finding her words. “I just need you,” she whispers. “Please, Sir, I need you so bad.” Her voice comes out a needy whine, and the way she calls me sir nearly sends me over the edge.

“Good girl.” I press a bruising kiss to her again before I pick her up princess-style. I walk her up the stairs to my bedroom and toss her on my bed. I can’t believe I haven’t done this sooner, that I tried to deny myself the pleasure of seeing her on my bed, panting and wanting.

I shrug off my jacket and toss it aside before approaching the bed. She looks up at me with big doe eyes, those eyes that watch me every time we’re in class, the ones that I’ve seen in my dreams. I lean over the bed and grab her ankles, tugging her until her legs hang over the edge.

She watches my hands as I run my hands up her legs, appreciating every beautiful curve of her body. My fingers tease the skin above her waistband. I move to unbutton her jeans, waiting for her to tell me to go on, and once she nods, I peel them off her.

I am breathless, utterly hypnotized by her as I kneel at the foot of the bed. Her panties are simple, lacy and black, and when I run my thumb up and down over her pussy, she lets out the most beautiful moan.

“You know how long I’ve wanted this?” I ask, rubbing a circle over her clit. She shakes her head, fisting the sheets. “Since the day I saw you, I’ve wanted you. Every time you came to my office, I wanted to kick everyone out and put you over my desk. I’ve wanted to keep you after class every day, have you moaning my name so loud it would echo in the lecture hall.”

When she lets out a strangled moan, I pull her panties down and revel in how gorgeous and wet she is. I tuck her panties into my pocket and run my hands over her bare skin. She shivers and tries to pull her legs together, but I don’t let her.

“I’ve wanted to taste you since I saw you. You gonna let me taste you, sweetheart?” I ask, adding a teasing tone to my voice.

“Please,” she begs. “Please, Sir.” I grin at her pussy and dive in. The second my tongue swipes over her pussy she arches, her fingers digging into my hair. She lets out a string of expletives as I suck her clit and explore her perfect cunt.

She tastes so much better than I ever could have imagined, and I know I’ll be addicted to this forever. She is so responsive, so sensitive to every swipe of my tongue, and all it does is make me work harder for her. I graze my teeth over her clit, and she jolts but pulls my hair more, guiding me to exactly where she wants me.

I work her up more and more until I feel her trembling beneath me. “You wanna come, sweetheart?” I ask, sliding a finger into her pussy. She’s hot and tight around my finger, and I feel her clench around it.

“Yes, please,” she replies, voice breathy from the pleasure. I click my tongue in mock-disappointment. I nip at her inner thigh, soothing the bite with a kiss.

“Please, who? Who’s making you feel good? Who’s gonna make you come?” She squirms a little and tries to get me to keep eating her out, but I don’t give in, no matter how much I want to keep tasting her.

“Please, Sir,” she amends. “You’re making me feel so good, please, Sir. I need you so bad.”

“Such a good girl,” I groan. I double my efforts on her clit and slide a second finger inside her, hitting a spot that makes her twitch.

Her legs tighten around my head as she comes, and it takes everything in me to not come right along with her. I ease up when I notice her getting too sensitive and kiss my way up her body.

“You’re perfect,” I tell her, sucking a mark on her neck. She helps me pull her shirt and bra off before she starts working my shirt off as well. A moment later, we’re both naked, and I love the way her eyes trace over every inch of me.

She pulls me in for another kiss, and I lean on my forearms, keeping myself hovering just over her.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” she tells me between kisses. “Wanted you for so long.” I grin into the kiss, then pull away to dig through my bedside table for a condom. She watches with hooded, lust-filled eyes.

“This okay?” I ask, rolling the condom onto myself. I don’t think I’ve ever been this hard in my life. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted someone how I want her.

She nods enthusiastically. “Please, Sir, please fuck me.” My head lulls back at her words.

I line myself up with her pussy and push in just a little, watching her face contort. Inch by inch, I sink inside her wet heat, and once I’m fully inside her, I let out a low moan. I give her a moment to adjust before I pull out and slam back in.

I know I should be gentle, that I should warm her up to this, but I can’t. There will be time for gentleness, and now’s not that time. I set a brutal, deep pace, and she takes it like the good girl she is.

Her fingers scrape down my back as she urges me on, legs wrapping around me to keep me close. I knew she’d be able to take it. I knew she’d be good for me. I tell her over and over how perfect she feels, how good she’s taking me, and every word of praise makes her squeeze tighter around me.

“Oh my god, I’m so close,” she moans.

“Come for me, sweetheart. Come all over my dick.” I keep doing what I know she likes and watch as she falls apart beneath me. I’ve never seen anything more beautiful than this. Than her. Once she comes down from her high, I switch our position. I turn her over and hike her ass up, keeping her head low on the mattress. My mouth waters as I press into her again. Her jaw drops open, and her eyes squeeze shut, and I start fucking her again.

Each sound she makes goes straight to my cock. Every moan, every whimper, brings me closer to the edge. I grip her hips hard, but I don’t care if I’m leaving marks. I want her to see them, to run her fingers over them as she thinks about the way I made her come on my cock.

My hips start to stutter, my thrust getting sloppy as I get closer and closer to coming. I wish I could fill her up and see my cum drip out of her, but I know we’re not there yet. I haul her chest up, pressing her back to my front, and snake my hands around her. One of my hands cups her neck, not choking her but gripping it, and the other teases her breast. My fingers tweak her nipple, and she jolts in my hold.

“You like it when I fuck you like this?” I ask, punctuating my words with deeper thrusts. She moans but doesn’t answer. “Answer me, sweetheart,” I say, practically scolding her.

“Fuck, I love it so much, Sir.” Her voice is strung out with pleasure. The hand that has been playing with her breasts falls to her pussy, and I tease her clit, pulling another orgasm out of her. She’s so loud when she comes, and it pulls me over with her.

I come hard, my vision blacking out on the edges, and we collapse together on the bed.

We watch each other as we come down from our highs. She smiles sheepishly at me, and I kiss away any doubts that might be clouding her mind right now. “That was perfect,” I tell her, kissing her nose.

“Thank you, Sir,” she replies. I pull her close to me, wrapping her in my arms.

“You know you don’t have to call me that,” I remind her. She tilts her head up to keep eye contact, and I love the light that shines in her beautiful eyes.

“What should I call you then?”

“Bucky.” She smiles at the nickname my friend gave me when we were younger.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Bucky.” She giggles as I kiss her, and I lock that sound away, keeping it somewhere I’ll never lose it.

“Nice to meet you, sweetheart.”

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mqverick · 9 months ago

Text

diet mountain dew || ꕤ

“Baby, stoppin' at 7-Eleven

There in his white Pontiac heaven.”

───────── ˚｡⋆ ( ၴႅၴ ⟡ ─────────

“Are you asking me out on a date?”

Daniel was looking at you with the smuggest smirk you’d ever seen on a man’s face before. His eyes were burning into yours, glistening under the light as he stared at you, his mouth slightly agape. You tried not to gulp as the question echoed in your ears, face hot and flustered.

You never thought you’d find yourself outside of Daniel Kaffee’s door, contemplating whether to knock on his door or not. You’d always had the first word with him, ever since the moment he burst in your office with that stupid apple of his.

He’s looked like an idiot then and he looked like an idiot now, all proud of himself, looking at you — forcing you to use the actual words you’d been practicing and itching to say to him for God knows how long. It was deeply humiliating.

“No,” you simply and coldly replied, but your voice weakened by the end of the two-lettered word.

“It sounded like you were asking me out on a date,” he argued, crossing his arms as he took a few steps closer to you, ignoring the baseball game on the television that played uninterrupted in the background. He slyly raised his eyebrows as if he was questioning your previous ‘no’.

You stood there robotically, fumbling with the end of your thin jacket as you avoided eye contact with Daniel, knowing very well that your knees would buckle under just one look from him.

“I wasn’t,” you continued firmly.

“Mm,” Daniel hummed, his face so close to yours that you swore he was asking to get roughly hit in the balls. You were a woman with dignity and respect, though, you had to be stronger than that. God, you were aware of the fact that he had one of the most self-absorbed, cocky personalities, but when had he gotten like that? “I’ve been asked out on dates before, and that’s what it sounded like.”

Regretting your life’s choices should’ve been a paid occupation for you at that point. You wondered what came over you, thought hard about the nerve in your burnt brain that screamed and cried for you to get up from the bed, have a good day and then ruin it all by finally gathering the courage to go alone to Daniel’s place and talk to him about something that wasn’t related to the case. Ask him out on a fucking date like the desperate, little, touch starved loser you were.

Men had been going after you, begging for a chance since forever… yet, there was Daniel.

Daniel Kaffee, who had graduated from law school a year ago, had gotten in the Navy freshly — around nine months ago — who was so admirably impressive and intelligent and a whole person of his own. Daniel, who couldn’t come to a realisation without his thinking bat.

How had you fallen so hard in love with him?

“Do you like seafood? I know a good seafood place,” you blurted out, mentally kicking and cursing yourself for how stupid you’d sounded.

“I’ll tell you if you admit you’re asking me out.”

You weren’t going to, not even if he held a gun to your forehead and threatened your life. He did not need that kind of boost for his ego, nor did you care for getting embarrassingly paralysed in front of him after the smile he’d give you in case you actually did convince yourself to admit that this was your horrible aspect of asking him on a date.

“N-Not a date,” you stuttered, hating yourself.

“The sweat forming on your forehead says otherwise.” He snickered when you hurriedly snatched your hand from your jean’s pocket to wipe the non existent sweat off your face. “Relax, I’m just messing with you. You know, I really wouldn’t say no to going out with you.”

“Well, you’re not. I just want to grab some dinner with my colleague is all. Will you come or should I get going? It’s late, they’ll close soon.”

You eventually gathered the courage to breathe, backing away from him as you headed towards the door, placing your hand on the handle. Daniel snatched you back by the arm, catching you off guard as you silently cried, mind short-circuiting after noticing how much closer he’d pulled you to him. His grip was strong on your elbow, fingers tightly pressing into your warm, reddening skin.

“Are you dismissing me?”

You cocked your head to the side.

“What?”

“I want to go on a date with you. Do you want to go on a date with me?” Fuck, he was killing you. You were an exceptional lawyer, distinguished, had even won service medals. And all of that just vanished, the words dying in your throat, just because Kaffee was holding you so painfully close to him that part of your mind subconsciously dared you to move your head just an inch further into him, invade completely his personal space.

“I…” you began, but trailed off, seeing as you were truly incapable of understanding what was going through your blinded head in that moment. Had his eyes always been so dazzlingly green and big? Had Daniel always looked so unbelievably pretty?

“I didn’t even know you liked me. I mean, if you like me. I won’t make you say it — I just want to know if you’re asking me out on a date. Which is sort of like asking you if you like me, so that automatically cancels out what I just said.”

Daniel was getting nervous as well. Both of you were so utterly fucked with each other, but none ever spoke about it out loud without jokingly throwing flirtatious innuendos. He was done with just guessing how you felt about him, though, decided to take the matter into his own hands if you didn’t have the guts to make a move first.

He didn’t know what he’d do if he lost you to another man just because his stupidity was too much of an obstacle to overcome. Died in silence every time he had to say goodbye or goodnight to you wherever you had to leave his apartment after judging that you’d all conversated enough about the case. Daniel knew that you had to be feeling something for him — even if that was a tiny spark.

All the secret glances, the way you commanded and spoke to him, the contained smiles; they had to mean something right? But why weren’t you trying anything with him? He thought he made it pretty obvious that he felt the same way about you, had been feeling like that for a long time.

He knew you knew.

“Danny, can you let — fuck, I can’t breathe when you hold me so close to you,” you accidentally confessed, eyes bulging the moment your words played loudly rent free in your brain right after they so easily and boldly left out of your mouth.

“You can’t?” he repeated softly, in awe as he tried to comprehend what you’d just said. “You can’t — you can’t say stuff like that to me and then tell me that you don’t want to ask me on a date. You can’t do that — you can’t fuck like that with my mind.”

You jerked away from him, brows furrowing.

“Me? I can’t say stuff like that to you? You’d known me only 12 hours when you told me you were sexually aroused. You’ve been looking at me as if I’m some sort of grand lawyer, like I amaze you or something — you know how hard it is for me to keep a fucking professional stance around you?” you were shouting for no reason now, practically admitting your feelings for him due to the anger that had fogged your brain.

Daniel closed his eyes in wonder, then looked at you dumbfounded. “What?” Fuck. “What did you just say?” he repeated hesitantly.

“Nothing.”

“No, don’t give me that bullshit. I thought you hated me. I always try so hard to impress you and I’m so afraid that I’ll do something wrong or offend you in some way I won’t even realize and you… You feel the same way about me?”

The question fell off his lips like he was terrified of the answer you’d give him. And it was true; he was, beat himself up for how little confidence he had around you even though his actions showed the opposite. He’d been melting for you.

Was captivated by your determination, the way you could make him feel so worthless just by giving him a weird look. Scary?

To Daniel, you were divine.

“I—I don’t feel a certain way about you, Danny.”

“You kill me,” he rushed to comment, cutting you off the second his nickname was mentioned. “Every single time you call me that, a small part of me dies. That sounds horrible, I didn’t mean it that way. You know how it feels to walk in a courtroom for the first time?”

You nodded with a slight chuckle. “Yeah, I do. I could never forget. Do you?”

“Because of you, I do. If you weren’t so damn stubborn and annoying, I couldn’t even dream of it. When I walked inside, my legs were trembling. It was a confusing, but beautiful feeling.”

Your knees were bucking — what was he doing?

“Fuck you, Kaffee,” you muttered under your breath, running a hand through your hair.

“That’s exactly what I’ve been saying. Fuck me. Fuck me, Commander, I’m already yours. I have been ever since you listed my entire life in front of my very own eyes, then proceeded to threaten my position in the case. How can you not know that? How can you act so surprised when the only reason why I keep calling both you and Sam at my place repeatedly every day is because I believe that there couldn’t possibly be any way I’d ever see you in my little, humble apartment under any other circumstances? Don’t you think we could’ve perfectly arranged another meeting spot?”

You’d lost touch with the environment. Daniel’s eyes looked as though he was about to burst into tears; all glassy and red, holding back a million words and emotions that he’d so successfully held back for such a long time, that they almost didn’t even feel real. He had to be kidding you.

“Is it too late to ask you on a date, then?”

Daniel let out a sigh of relief, a gorgeous smile cracking on his lips as he finally shut the game on the television off, moving dangerously toward you. He cupped his hands over your cheeks and pulled you tightly into him, capturing your lips with his own after what felt like ages. His eyes were forcefully closed, afraid of opening them and waking up to what could be just another dream. But no, this was reality, he decided after he discreetly opened them just an inch to make sure that the person he was smushing was real.

You weren’t kissing him back, though, and it made him pull away, feeling like a complete fool. Had he misread anything again, had he done something wrong? Had his hurried intrusive thought to kiss you been too much?

“I’m really sorry, I—”

Embarrassment welled up inside of him as he stared down at your feet, his mind still unable to process the taste of your lips as it barely even functioned for any other reason; talking like a normal person, for example. Harvard lawyer, they said. Lawyer his ass. What kind of lawyer was ever known to get so tongue tied in a situation?

“Your lack of response to my question makes me believe that you haven’t truly been asked out on any dates before,” you eventually spoke, opting to break the silence with sarcasm, just like it had always been between the two of you.

You pressed your mouth against his this time, smirking nobly as you heard him take a sharp inhale. You walked backwards, forcing him to do the same, then pushed him against the outside arm of his pathetic couch, causing him to fall.

You wasted no time with getting on top of him, straddling his lap firmly as your back arched on top of him, making the kiss get profoundly deeper and wetter as tongues got involved. You’d never been French-kissed like that (or in general, ) — your head felt like it would explode.

Daniel wasn’t skilled just as a lawyer. He was awfully good at kissing, sending you over the edge just by adding a little extra saliva in the kiss and letting his hands roam freely in your back, pulling you closer and closer to his scorching body. His soft brunet hair softly brushed against your forehead as he titled his head for a better angle and you could almost feel yourself die.

He winced when his bat dug into his back and the miserable sound he made caused you to moan.

“Are — Are you going to ask me out?”

You ignored him, grasping on his shoulders as you accidentally ground against his crotch, losing your mind and grip over yourself when you felt his semi-erection rub just the right away over your jeans and panties, your wet core clenching around absolutely nothing disappointedly.

“Let’s go to the seafood place, yeah?” you exclaimed against his mouth.

“As a date?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah?”

You untangled yourself from him, still neatly seated on his legs as if you couldn’t feel him flush and hard, aching to be freed from his trousers.

“You know I’m very intimidated by you, right?”

Daniel gave you a peck on the before getting up to sit normally on the couch. “I do not, Ma’am.”

“Shut up.”

“Pretty impressive, huh?” he mocked, just like he’d said to you the first time you met. God, you really, deeply hated his self-absorbed guts. But you loved him. Loved him like crazy.

“I changed my mind.”

“About what?”

“I don’t want to go out to eat.”

Daniel’s face dropped when you got up from the couch and began putting your jacket back on. He’d messed up, he’d messed up, he’d messed up… Fuck him and how he never thought before doing. You were going to leave him, of course you were. You were scared of how fast he’d moved.

Except you really weren’t, you just really found joy into toying with his lowered remaining patience.

“What?” he asked, nearly like a whisper.

“I’ll see you at court tomorrow at 10. Don’t be fucking late, Lieutenant, or I’ll just might have to cancel the dinner reservations I’m planning. Up until then, you’ll do well with your very manly and grown up Yoo-Hoos,” you walked up to his door, feeling your heart beat rapidly in your chest as the corner of your eye caught him almost stumbling into the coffee table in his hurry to get to you.

“Is it going to be a—”

“And before you ask, yes, it’s a date.”

FIN.

@honeymvnt 𝜗𝜚

#daniel kaffee #daniel kaffee oneshot #a few good men #a few good men fanfic #daniel kaffee fanfic #tom cruise oneshot #tom cruise #daniel kaffee fluff #so much tension #enemies to lovers #tension #daniel kaffee smut #light smut #not to be taken seriously #scrap #tom cruise x reader #daniel kaffee x reader #tom cruise imagine #daniel kaffee imagine

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mostlysignssomeportents · 7 months ago

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Precaratize bosses

I'm touring my new, nationally bestselling novel The Bezzle! Catch me SUNDAY (Apr 21) in TORINO, then Marin County (Apr 27), Winnipeg (May 2), Calgary (May 3), Vancouver (May 4), and beyond!

Combine Angelou's "When someone shows you who they are, believe them" with the truism that in politics, "every accusation is a confession" and you get: "Every time someone accuses you of a vice, they're showing you who they are and you should believe them."

Let's talk about some of those accusations. Remember the moral panic over the CARES Act covid stimulus checks? Hyperventilating mouthpieces for the ruling class were on every cable network, complaining that "no one wants to work anymore." The barely-submerged subtext was their belief that the only reason people show up for work is that they're afraid of losing everything – their homes, their kids, the groceries in their fridge.

This isn't a new development. Back when Clinton destroyed welfare, his justification was that "handouts" make workers lazy. The way to goad workers off their sofas (and the welfare rolls) and into jobs was to instill fear in them:

https://www.theatlantic.com/business/archive/2018/03/welfare-childhood/555119/

This is also the firm belief of tech bosses: for them, mass tech layoffs are great news, because they terrorize the workers you don't fire, so that they'll be "extremely hardcore" and put in as many extra hours as the company demands, without even requiring any extra pay in return:

https://fortune.com/2022/10/06/elon-musk-jason-calacanis-return-to-office-gentlemens-layoffs-twitter/

Now, there's an obvious answer to the problem of no one taking a job at the wage being offered: just increase the offer. Capitalists claim to understand this. Uber will tell you that surge pricing "incentivizes drivers" to take to the streets by offering them more money to drive during busy times:

https://www.uber.com/blog/austin/providing-rides-when-they-are-most-needed/

(Note that while Uber once handed the lion's share of surge price premiums to drivers, these days, Uber just keeps the money, because they've entered the enshittification stage where drivers are so scared of being blacklisted that Uber can push them around instead of dangling carrots.)

(Also note that this logic completely fails when it comes to other businesses, like Wendy's, who briefly promised surge-priced hamburgers during busy times, but without even the pretense that the surge premium would be used to pay additional workers to rush to the restaurant and increase the capacity:)

https://www.theguardian.com/food/2024/feb/27/wendys-dynamic-surge-pricing

So bosses knew how to address their worker shortage: higher wages. You know: supply and demand. For bosses, the issue wasn't supply, it was price. A worker who earns $10/hour but makes the company $20 profit every hour is splitting the surplus 50:50 with their employer. The employer has overheads (rent on the shop, inventory, advertising and administration) that they have to pay out of their end of that surplus. But workers also have overheads: commuting costs, child-care, a professional wardrobe, and other expenses the worker incurs just so they can make money for their boss.

There's no iron law of economics that says the worker/boss split should be 50/50. Depending on the bargaining power of workers and their bosses, that split can move around a lot. Think of McDonald's and Walmart workers who work for wildly profitable corporate empires, but are so badly paid that they have to rely on food stamps. The split there is more like 10/90, in the boss's favor.

The pandemic changed the bargaining power. Sure, workers got a small cushion from stimulus checks, but they also benefited from changes in the fundamentals of the labor market. For example, millions of boomers just noped out of their jobs, forever, unwilling to risk catching a fatal illness and furious to realize that their bosses viewed that as an acceptable risk.

Bosses' willingness to risk their workers' lives backfired in another way: killing hundreds of thousands of workers and permanently disabling millions more. Combine the boomer exodus with the workers who sickened or died, and there's just fewer workers to go around, and so now those workers enjoy more bargaining power. They can demand a better split: say, 75/25, in their favor.

Remember the 2015 American Airlines strike, where pilots and flight attendants got a raise? The eminently guillotineable Citibank analyst Kevin Crissey declared: "This is frustrating. Labor is being paid first again. Shareholders get leftovers":

https://www.thestreet.com/investing/american-airlines-flight-attendants-bash-citi-analyst-who-put-shareholders-before-workers-14134309

Now, obviously, the corporation doesn't want to offer a greater share of its surplus to its workforce, but it certainly can do so. The more it pays its workers, the less profitable it will be, but that's capitalism, right? Corporations try to become as profitable as they can be, but they can't just decree that their workers must work for whatever pay they want to offer (that's serfdom).

Companies also don't get to dictate that we must buy their goods at whatever price they set (the would be a planned economy, not a market economy). There's no law that says that when the cost of making something goes up, its price should go up, too. A business that spends $10 to make a widget you pay $15 for has a $5 margin to play with. If the business's costs go up to $11, they can still charge $15 and take $1 less in profits. Or they can raise the price to $15.50 and split the difference.

But when businesses don't face competition, they can make you eat their increased costs. Take Verizon. They made $79b in profit last year, and also just imposed a $4/month service charge on their mobile customers due to "rising operational costs":

https://www.reddit.com/r/LateStageCapitalism/comments/1c53c4p/79bn_in_profits_last_year_but_you_need_an_extra/

Now, Verizon is very possibly lying about these rising costs. Excuseflation is rampant and rising, as one CEO told his investors, when the news is full of inflation-talk, "it’s an opportunity to increase the prices without getting a whole bunch of complaining from the customers":

https://pluralistic.net/2023/03/11/price-over-volume/#pepsi-pricing-power

But even stipulating that Verizon is telling the truth about these "rising costs," why should we eat those costs? There's $79b worth of surplus between Verizon's operating costs and its gross revenue. Why not take it out of Verizon's bottom line?

For 40 years, neoliberal economists have emphasized our role as "consumers" (as though consumers weren't also workers!). This let them play us off against one-another: "Sure, you don't want the person who rings up your groceries to get evicted because they can't pay their rent, but do you care about it enough to pay an extra nickel for these eggs?"

But again, there's no obvious reason why you should pay that extra nickel. If you have the buying power to hold prices down, and workers have the labor power to keep wages up, then the business has to absorb that nickel. We can have a world where workers can pay their rent and you can afford your groceries.

So how do we get bosses to agree to take less so we can have more? They've told us how: for bosses, the thing that motivates workers to show up for shitty jobs is fear – fear of losing their homes, fear of going hungry.

When your boss says, "If you don't want to do this job for minimum wage, there's someone else who will," they're telling you that the way to get a raise out of them is to engineer things so that you can say, "If you don't want to pay me a living wage for this job, there's someone else who will."

Their accusation – that you only give someone else a fair shake when you're afraid of losing out – is a confession: to get them to give you a fair shake, we have to make them afraid. They're showing us who they are, and we should believe them.

In her Daily Show appearance, FTC chair Lina Khan quipped that monopolies are too big to care:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oaDTiWaYfcM

Philosophers of capitalism are forever praising its ability to transform greed into public benefit. As Adam Smith put it, "It is not from the benevolence of the butcher, the brewer, or the baker, that we expect our dinner, but from their regard to their own interest." The desire to make as much money as possible, on its own, doesn't produce our dinner, but when the butcher, the brewer and the baker are afraid that you will take your labor or your wallet elsewhere, they pay more and charge less.

Capitalists don't want market economies, where they have to compete with one another, eroding their margins and profits – they want a planned economy, like Amazon, where Party Secretary Bezos and his commissars tell merchants what they can sell and tell us what we must pay:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/03/01/managerial-discretion/#junk-fees

Capitalists don't want free labor, where they have to compete with rival capitalists to bid on their workers' labor – they want noncompetes, bondage fees, and "training repayment agreement provisions" (TRAPs) that force their workers to stay in dead-end jobs rather than shopping for a better wage:

\https://pluralistic.net/2022/08/04/its-a-trap/#a-little-on-the-nose

Capitalists hate capitalism, because capitalism only works if the capitalists are in a constant state of terror inspired by the knowledge that tomorrow, someone smarter could come along and open a better business, poaching their customers and workers, and putting the capitalist on the breadline.

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/18/in-extremis-veritas/#the-winnah

Being in a constant precarious state makes people lose their minds, and capitalists know it. That's why they work so hard to precaratize the rest of us, saddling us with health debt, education debt, housing debt, stagnating wages and rising prices. It's not just because that makes them more money in the short term from our interest payments and penalties. It's because it de-risks their lives: monopolies and cartels can pass on any extra costs to consumers, who'll eat shit and take it:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/02/02/its-the-economy-stupid/#overinflated

A workforce that goes to bed every night worrying about making the rent is a workforce that put in unpaid overtime and thank you for it.

Capitalists hate capitalism. You know who didn't hate capitalism? Karl Marx and Freidrich Engels. The first chapter of The Communist Manifesto is just these two guys totally geeking out about how much cool stuff we get when capitalists are afraid and therefore productive:

https://pluralistic.net/SpectreHaunting

But when capitalists escape their fears, the alchemical reaction that converts greed to prosperity fizzles, leaving nothing behind but greed and its handmaiden, enshittification. Google search is in the toilet, getting worse every year, but rather than taking reduced margins and spending more fighting spam, the company did a $80b stock-buyback and fired 12,000 skilled technologists, rather than using that 80 bil to pay their wages for the next twenty-seven years:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/21/im-feeling-unlucky/#not-up-to-the-task

Monopoly apologists like to argue that monopolists can rake in the giant profits necessary to fund big, ambitious projects the produce better products at lower prices and make us all better off. But even if monopolists can spend their monopoly windfalls on big, ambitious projects, they don't. Why would they?

If you're Google, you can either spend tens of billions on R&D to keep up with spam and SEO scumbags, or you can spend less money buying the default search spot on every platform, so no one ever tries another search engine and switches:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/04/teach-me-how-to-shruggie/#kagi

Compared to its monopoly earnings, the tech sector's R&D spending is infinitesimal:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/08/11/nor-glom-of-nit/#capitalists-hate-competition

How do we get capitalists to work harder to make their workers and customers better off? Capitalists tell us how, every day. We need to make them afraid.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/19/make-them-afraid/#fear-is-their-mind-killer

Image: Vlad Lazarenko (modified) https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Wall_Street_Sign_%281-9%29.jpg CC BY-SA 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/deed.en

#pluralistic #petard #precarity #cares act #stimulus #market discipline #competition #too big to care #antitrust #labor #trustbusting #consumer welfare #every accusation is a confession

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sirenjose · 7 months ago

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Orpheus' 2nd Character Day Letter

If the purpose of the loan had to do with a clinic and hospital, that implies the loan was likely due to someone being ill or injured. For the wealthy obviously implies who the borrower was.

Considering this is Orpheus' letter, and we know the DeRoss couple was "wealthy" (based on the original Oletus Manor backstory, comments Alice makes, Burke and Bonbon's deductions, and Orpheus' tale, especially with how the massacre to some extent had to do with greed), the DeRoss couple were likely the borrowers. That and it specifically has the context of the time of the "incident" based on the Oletus Family massacre. This matches with the Borrower (likely Dennis, especially as the line about the borrower uses the word "him") being deceased, and his family also being deceased (his wife) or missing (Alice).

If Dennis was the borrower, it seems likely he acquired the loan for someone in his family, meaning the purpose of the loan was 1 of them. In Time of Reunion, 1 of the lines Orpheus hears talks about the mother's (Dennis' wife and Alice's mother) condition worsening. Ergo, she was who the loan was for.

This lines up with a page from the artbook, which actually discusses Dennis' wife's affliction:

Dear ◼︎︎

Your wife's lung cancer is getting worse again and you need to implement more advanced treatment.

Unless you pay for her medical care as soon as possible, we cannot do anything for her.

◼︎︎ Doctor, 1887

Then there's the question of the lender. Based on the mention of "advanced treatment", it's likely the loan was quite large and thus the lender must've been similarly wealthy, especially if even someone of the DeRoss couple's wealth couldn't afford it. Of course, someone we know that is wealthy and has ties to the DeRoss couple, my first thought is the Barriere family.

First to mind is Count Barriere, who we know is very wealthy, is tied to shady happenings, had a signature on the same page as Dennis, and we know he gives out loans based on the IOU owned by someone with the signature "D" that he wants Lily to reclaim. It's not guaranteed to be him though, not to mention the IOU Lily is after is still to be paid and is tied to "Mediterranean Development" and a copy of Orfeo, while the loan in this letter was "repaid 2 weeks after the tragedy".

We know it can't be Lily's father, Reger, but Reger was said to only be the 2nd son. So it's possible maybe the 1st son gave out this loan. The only reference to a Barriere that isn't confirmed to be Count Barriere is from Freddy's 4th letter, which references a "Keogh & Barriere law office". Though it may feel a bit odd if the co-partner for the law office referenced here is the one that has been imprisoned for so long. It's possible the 1st son isn't related to this law office, but he still could have given the loan.

Though it'd also be curious if the 1st son was tied to this law office and the lender for this loan considering Freddy, a financial advisor, in that case would be connected via both his 4th letter and his mention in Orpheus' 2nd letter.

There's also how Freddy's background mentions a "failed lawsuit" in his past. If Freddy is his the lender's lawyer, I wonder if this could be the "failed lawsuit" from Freddy's past (especially if it happened at least 5 years ago). He should still be his lawyer even if Freddy lost the lawsuit and couldn't prevent his client from being imprisoned. And if his client were a Barriere, maybe that could tie at least somewhat to why after this failed lawsuit Freddy's life seemed to decline after, based on after that case Freddy was said to be "toiling away at a menial job with a pathetic wage". With someone as high up as the Barriere family, it's possible he could've suffered some sort of punishment or something for being unable to prevent him from being imprisoned.

This is just a bunch of my current thoughts, so who knows what's right.

I do find it curious the loan was paid 2 weeks after the tragedy. I wonder if either someone paid it off for Dennis, or if maybe the manor was seized and used to pay it off, and thus potentially how it could then be bought by Manus, and then later bought by Orpheus.

As for the loan being signed 6 months before the massacre, I do admit I wonder if it's possible it is connected somehow someway to why the massacre happened at all (which I still wonder if Barriere helped cause).

Though if Dennis was wealthy, was he just having trouble paying for his wife's treatment because it was a very expensive treatment, or I wonder if people stealing from his manor (based on Bonbon's deduction 4 that implies Orpheus's parents, maybe helped by Orpheus himself or not, were taking "valuable items" from the manor due to their greed) was causing Dennis enough trouble that he was forced to ask for a loan rather than be able to pay himself. If so, I wonder if that was on purpose to pressure Dennis (to what end, I don't know. Why was it important for all of this to happen if so?), but maybe I'm thinking too hard again.

(Doing this at all because I enjoyed having an actually interesting letter for once, compared to what we're getting for people's 5th character days, enough to talk again. Will see how I continue to feel. Still taking it easy)

#idv #identity v #orpheus #novelist #idv orpheus #idv novelist #identity v orpheus #identity v novelist #freddy riley #lawyer #idv freddy #idv lawyer #identity v freddy #identity v lawyer #sirenjose analyses and theories

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thatonefanficwriternooneknows · 23 days ago

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Corrie Week: Day 5: Fix-it/Cockwarming

Did I mean to do both prompts? No. Did it happen anyway? Yes.

This one is shorter than my previous ones because Danny Phantom/DC fics have taken over my life and I need to READ.

Anyway. I don't think it's like...graphic sex but there is definitely mentions cause I mean...cockwarming :D

Should also mention that this is in my TOUCHED universe :D

“There is a reason why you were banned from Chancellor Sitting Duty, but I have to be honest, I wasn’t expecting this to happen.”

Fox smiled blandly as his CMO walked in to the wrinkly raisin’s office, keeping his eyes completely on the Commander as he did. Hex ignored the black smudge and smoking robes on the floor like he was being paid to.

“What did happen?” Thorn stuck his head in the office, keeping his body outside the door as he pulled a stank face at what was left of the Chancellor.

“Something something universal domination blah blah using the vode something blah Sith.” Fox answered, idling picking at the drying blood from his fingers, shivering at the image of Quinlan smiling softly at him as he did.

Hex was on him in short order, tutting and tsking over the various bumps and bruises Fox has gotten since he decided to try and blackmail the Chancellor.

His leg was bleeding pretty badly, so his CMO shucked the armor plates and handed them to Fox, who took them with his bare hands like a besom.

The last time he was with Quinlan for any good length of time was still imprinted there, flashing delightful images of Fox on his knees before the Jedi and holding his cock still in his mouth while Quinan finished up datawork.

It was a good memory.

That’s why Fox had been saving it.

Maybe this was a good enough reason to lose himself in what he was seeing, Fox really wasn’t up for a Hex lecture right about now.

So, he focused on the vision.

Looking up at Quinlan’s hot as kriff serious face and the heavy weight of his thick dick on his tongue, the…serenity that it brought him just sitting there for an hour or two.

Then of Quinlan slowly kriffing him against his desk, soft and smooth and oh so perfect when Fox was limp and pliable.

Fox is fairly sure that Quinlan avoids having anything else touch his desk for the sole purpose of reliving that memory as often as he could.

It was a good one.

“I can’t believe you killed the Supreme Chancellor of the Republic. Kriff, Fox, you’re my Force damned hero.” Thorn breathed out, finally coming into the smelly office.

“Well I didn’t do it on purpose. Would have been much more dramatic if I had time to plan it out.” Fox hummed, carefully petting the leg armor in his hand and relishing the bursts of sound and images of that one time in Quinlan’s office.

“And you would have told me about it so I wouldn’t be walking in on a literal murder scene and contaminating evidence.” Hex grumbled as he bandaged up the few leaking cuts Fox still had on his legs and his hips.

“Technically it’s not murder, you know, considering we’re property and the law doesn’t apply to us.” Thorn piped in and Fox couldn’t help but grin about it.

Hex, of course, just glared at Thorn until the other commander raised his hands and backed off.

“Legality aside,” Fox looked down at Hex (weird), “who exactly are they going to convict with a blood sample that matches millions of Vode?”

Hex and Thorn both turned to look at Fox with matching incredulous stares.

“Holy kark. We could have all been getting away with murder this whole time! We can literally give every vod an alibi by virtue of being a vod! If you hadn’t of killed the Chancellor this could have changed the game!” Thorn got more and more working up until his hands and arms were flapping happily by his shoulders.

“Still not murder.” Fox mentioned, hissing at the slight stick of alcohol in his cuts.

“I refuse to deal with this. Call your trash tooka Jedi to take care of it. I am retiring as CMO, taking my disaster duo, and going to live somewhere I don’t have to put up with any of this osik.” Hex growled, angrily finishing his wrap job and looking over Fox for any more hiding wounds, it wouldn’t be the first time Fox had successfully hidden one from his CMO.

“You wouldn’t do that, Hex. You’d miss Fox’s special brand of dinii too much.”

Fox sighed and let himself sink further into the memory. He’d done enough peopling for today, time to enjoy some hyper-realistic memories of Quinlan kriffing the noise out of his head. He deserved it.

#scream screams #screamhoney things #star wars #commander fox #coruscant guard #quinfox #corrieweek #corrieweek2024 #corrie week 2024 #smut

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wambsgansshoelaces · 11 months ago

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Turmoil; Chapter 2

Roman Roy x Reader

slowburn romantic drama

a/n: I’m so glad you guys love this as much as I do!! kisses, enjoy x

Word Count: 2.313k

The Waystar building is daunting. It makes you queasy- not because of the architecture, but because of the people in it. You’re in Kendall’s office, his blinds drawn shut. You’ve been pacing for so long you think you’re going to wear a hole in the floor. Roman lounges on an armchair, his legs hanging over one of the armrests.

“You need to tell me everything you know about your father’s criminal history. It’s the only way out. Throw him in jail before he can do it to me. And then he’s rendered unfit to run Waystar and it goes to Kendall.”

Roman is playing with a tennis ball, tossing and catching it methodically. “He took Kendall out the will and replaced him with Marcia.”

Kendall sinks in his chair. “You could’ve told me that earlier.”

“Anyway, we all know my dad’s 100% a criminal. He just has so much money there’s practically no witnesses nor any evidence,” Roman continues. “We have to catch him with his pants down.”

“But in the act of what? We can’t just watch him 24/7/365. It’s not feasible,” you reply.

“Okay, do you have any better ideas?”

“We bait him. Is it unethical? Probably. But I think we’re all past that.”

Kendall gets up and goes to stare out the window overlooking the city. “You think maybe he’s laundered money?”

“What do you think he had to clean the money from?”

“Prostitutes,” Roman says confidently.

“That’s not illegal, genius.”

“Where’s your imagination, Y/N?”

You continue your pacing. “Let’s go down the list. Tax evasion? He wouldn’t go to jail for that.”

“Even if he did, he’d be evading an entire $2 in taxes. The bracket distribution is fucked,” Roman points out. “He covered up Connor’s property fraud. Shouldn’t that be enough?”

“It would be if we had concrete proof. Connor’s never going to testify and tell the truth, and I doubt we can find whoever he paid to forge the deed.”

Kendall shrugs. “I’ll try anyway.”

“We could try to get a confession,” you say. “But if he had a crazy enough attorney, it might not hold up in court.”

Roman rolls onto his side, staring at you. There’s no way that can be comfortable. “Why not?”

“It’s the twenty first century, Roman. He can claim that it was AI generated using his voice from speeches posted online. The only way it’d work is if he confessed on the stand.”

He throws you a dirty look. “Quit shitting on my ideas.”

“It wasn’t your idea. Plus, I’m just doing what any attorney with a brain would do,” you retort. “Your dad clearly has the money. He’ll probably find someone who’s thirty times the lawyer I am.”

“You’ll be fine,” Kendall assures you.

A knock on the office door interrupts your erratic pacing. Kendall opens it, allowing Siobhan to storm in. “He knows,” is all she says.

“Good afternoon,” Roman drawls in response.

“Congrats on your engagement party,” she snaps back.

“Party?” you ask.

“Your father in law is throwing you an engagement party in Norway.” She gives your arm a squeeze. “And I have to go.”

“Aww, I love you too, Siobhan,” you say sarcastically.

“It’s nothing against you. And call me Shiv. We’re friends.” She throws herself onto the couch. “I’m supposed to meet with a bunch of people here so that they can start digging. But not if I’m in Norway.”

“I can-”

“Your attendance is required as well, Kendall.”

“…Is Greg’s?” he asks. Shiv’s face splits into a small smile.

“I think he’ll forget about Greg. But none of us can ask him.” She turns to you. “Y/N?”

“I don’t even know who Greg is.”

“He works here. You can’t miss him, he looks like an egg,” Roman supplies.

Shiv nods. “He’ll have people start digging while we’re abroad, we get a head start without him being able to cover anything up.”

“We still haven’t figured out what to do about Marcia’s being the heir,” Roman says, going back to sitting lopsidedly on the chair and tossing his tennis ball.

“Vote of no confidence, I guess. Who’re the board members?” you ask.

“Me, Roman, Gerri, Frank, Karl, my dad, and five other partners. And you, now, I think.” Kendall sits back down, then gets back up, only to sit back down again.

“Do you think we can swing the votes our way?”

“How?” Kendall drops his face into his hands.

“He needs to do something dumb in public,” Roman says. “I dunno, like be racist.”

“Is he…?” You look incredulously at Roman.

“Probably.”

”We can’t bank on him probably being racist. Members of the board, vote him out, he maybe hates foreigners.” You sigh. “I need a break. I’m going to go get sweets or something.”

“Bring me back a cheesecake and I’ll kiss you,” Shiv replies.

“Back off, Shiv. That’s my fiancé,” Roman says sarcastically.

“Kendall?” You ignore Roman, still lounging on the armchair.

“Um, a cupcake? Chocolate?”

“I’ll be quick.” You make your way through the office bullpen before Roman catches up to you.

“Hey, wait. You didn’t ask what I wanted,” he says, walking backwards in front of you.

“Good job, you noticed!” you say bitterly. He rolls his eyes.

“Let me come with you?”

“Will you be quiet?”

“No.”

“Then also no.”

You wait for an elevator with Roman right at your side. “You’re a jerk. We’re supposed to be a team.”

“You’re the one who’s made it clear that there’s no ‘we’ in any situation.”

“What, you want us to be exclusive? Can’t get any more exclusive than engaged, and you that’s what we are, baby.”

☾𖤓

Later that day, you’re in your office at your firm. After you and Roman had gone back to Waystar, you’d gotten a call from your assistant saying that someone was at her desk demanding to see you. You’d weaseled your way to your office and asked her to send whoever it is in.

Connor comes storming in, the girl he was with at the party awkwardly in tow. “We want a lawsuit.”

“Hello, Connor, I’m doing fine, thanks for asking!”

“My girlfriend, Willa, and I are staying at a hotel while our house in the country gets renovated.” Without asking, he sits in one of the chairs in front of your desk. Willa stands silently behind him. “I took took our valuables from home and gave them to the staff, who said they’d hold them in the hotel vault and keep them safe. We went back last night and, lo and behold, everything’s been stolen.”

You stare at him blankly. “You’re wasting my time, Connor.”

“I’m being serious,” he exclaims dramatically. “Her diamonds and gold were taken, along with my best watches.”

You sigh. “I’ll have one of my associates take this. This is an easy suit, Connor.”

“You’re going to do it.”

You get up from your desk. “Why, pray tell, would I do that?”

“Because I have leverage. And I need the best on the case. This has to go through.”

“Excuse my language, but a fucking toddler could win this. It’s negligence- innkeeper’s law. They put your stuff in their vault, it got stolen, they’re liable. Case closed.”

You try leaving, but Connor’s immediately up and blocking your way. “No. You’re doing it, or I tell the papers.”

You scoff. “Fucking fine. Do you have pictures of everything that was stolen?” Connor smiles, satisfied with himself. “Images from the companies you bought the junk from is fine. Have it on my desk with your hotel reservations by tomorrow. I’m not going to spend too much time on this.”

He blocks your way again. “Thank you.”

“Bye,” you say, gesturing your office door. After Connor leaves, Willa shuffling behind him, Roman takes his place, collapsing into a chair. “When’d you get here?”

“Like ten minutes ago. Connor was stomping around like a toddler. What’d he want?”

“A bunch of stuff got stolen while he’s staying at the hotel. He wants to file a lawsuit through me.”

“He’s trying to waste your time,” Roman says matter-of-factly. “He knows the four of us are gunning for Dad, and by proxy, him, because Dad is the one protecting his ass.”

“What does Connor own that would be damaged by Logan leaving?”

“He’s a shareholder. If you oust Dad, he probably goes too, just to save face.” He kicks his feet up onto your desk. “And he’s just annoying like that. You know he pays that girl to be with him?”

You wince. You don’t want to think about that. “Why are you here?”

“I can’t come visit my fiancé?”

“No.”

“Too bad. Waystar’s hosting a charity dinner tonight. Or, technically, we are.”

“We?”

“Our first public apparence together. Isn’t it romantic?”

You pinch the bridge of your nose. You don’t have the mental capacity for this. “Okay. Do you know what you’re wearing?”

“Same thing I always wear. Dress pants and slacks.” He gets to his feet. “Don’t worry your pretty little head, anyway. It’s just a bunch of corporate wannabes kissing my ass so that they can move up in the company.”

“Because your ego needs it.”

You manage to go home and change before Roman picks you up. Rather, the driver does. Both of you sit wordlessly in the back, until he tells you, “You look nice all dolled up.”

“I don’t look nice usually?”

“That’s not what I- never mind.”

Feeling bad, you glance at him. “You look nice, too.”

When you pull up at the venue, Roman scoots until he’s pressed up against the door and takes your hand, pulling you against him before opening the door and stepping out with you behind him.

The paparazzi is as aggressive as always, and you know you’re getting sick of it. When you’re both safely inside, he lets go of your hand. “I’m gonna go drink an excessive amount and pass out behind a curtain.”

You watch him wind into the crowd. You hope he’s joking.

Roman was right, earlier. This wasn’t the sort of charity dinner where people actually donate to charity- this was purely social.

You find Shiv by herself in a corner and join her. “I fucking hate these,” she tells you. “They could at least pretend to be here for a noble cause.”

You two spend the half hour before dinner chatting among yourselves in the corner. You thankfully veer away from talking about work and the clusterfuck that you’ve gotten yourselves into and instead idly discuss anyone and everyone you both see.

When you’re called to be seated for dinner, you peer at the the seating chart indicating that Shiv’s on your left with Roman on your right. You and Shiv take your seats, Roman nowhere to be seen. 10, 20 minutes pass.

“This is normal for him,” she tells you, in between bites. “He’s probably blackout drunk somewhere.”

“In public?”

She nods.

Once dinner is over, the crowd goes back to mingling. Shiv has to step away to talk to some client of hers, and while she’s gone, someone taps on your shoulder.

“You’re a pretty face I haven’t seen before.” It’s an old man. A very old man.

You try to just ignore him, making your way to the refreshment table and plucking a chocolate from a tray. He follows you anyway.

“What’s your name? What do you do at Waystar?”

You give him a dirty look and continue your inspection of the refreshments.

“You’re a feisty one, then?” He laughs, and it makes your skin crawl. “I like a challenge.”

You give him another look and round the table. “I have much better wine at my place. Much better than the garbage they serve here. Much.”

He follows you despite your pretending like he doesn’t exist. “I can tell you’d be a good time.”

Before you can do something rash, a warm hand goes to sit on your hip, grounding you. You smell his cologne before you realize it’s him.

“Figures you don’t know how to take no for an answer with all the whining you do to me for a promotion.” Roman pulls you flush against him. “Are you trying to fuck my girl?” Before the man can say anything, Roman interrupts. “The answer is no. And there’s also no showing your face here, or at Waystar, ever again. I’ve been looking for a reason to fire you. You were never an asset.”

He scuttles off, and Roman slumps against you, arm still hooked around your waist. “Are you drunk?” you ask him.

“Very,” he responds.

“I think it’s past your bedtime,” you tell him. “Can we go home?”

Arrangements had been made for you and Roman to start living together in a cozy apartment secluded from the rest of the city. You weren’t mad about it, really. You just hope Roman isn’t a slob.

“Tell what’s-his-face to pull the car up. I’m going to puke in my shoes.”

When you’ve sat down, Roman sets his head in your lap and stretches out along the back seat.

“How much did you have to drink?” you ask stiffly.

“Lots and lots.” He presses his face into your stomach. “Before we left, I had a lovely conversation with my dad. Told me how much of a fuck up I was, how you’re the only right decision I’ve ever made. And it’s not even true. I didn’t want this.”

You give his shoulder an awkward rub. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry you’re involved in this. I should’ve known, way back then.”

“The worst part is, Y/N, as much as I try to hate you and blame you for this shit show, I can’t. You’re innocent. You’re a damn good lawyer that was just doing her job. And it pisses me off that you’re so fucking pretty, because I can’t have you, but I want you so bad.”

#roman roy x reader #succession #succession hbo #succession fic #succession x reader #roman roy x you #roman roy slowburn #romantic drama #slowburn x reader #wambsgansshoelaces #turmoil

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