#cos i know that our clients (at least legally) are going to be getting the best help possible between me and our other legal advocate

[silhouettecrow]

365 Days of Writing Prompts: Day 209

Adjective: Voracious

Noun: Churchyard

Definitions for those who need/want them:

Voracious: wanting or devouring great quantities of food; having a very eager approach to an activity

Churchyard: an enclosed area surrounding a church, especially as used for burials

[kittyoverlord]

Criminal Law Basics incoming:

This is why the standard for proving guilt in a criminal court is Beyond a Reasonable Doubt. There is a ton of discussion regarding what Reasonable Doubt is*, but in general it is the highest burdan of proof that exists in the US Justice system. When creating this standard of proof, the idea was that circumstantial evidence and/or a lack of evidence can be twisted to imply guilt, which would lead to more innocent people being unfairly prosecuted. In theory, the prosecutor has the burden of proof because we should be absolutely certain the the person that we're sending to jail/prison/death is actually guilty. Defense attorneys spend a lot of time working on the best ways to describe reasonable doubt to a jury to help increase the chances of a not guilty verdict.

In this instance, it would be up to the prosecutor to show evidence that the Loam's received this money, it is not the Loam's responsibility (via their attorney**) to provide evidence that they did not receive the money. Sklonda's argument would be likely focus on the prosecutors and cops failing to meet this standard by not providing this key piece of evidence.

Also, I know this is done for story purposes, but this is all flagrant disregard for attorney client privilege, which doesn't go away just because the client died.

*We actually just got a ton of cases back from an appeal decision that determined that judges in our state were using an incorrect analogy to describe reasonable doubt to jurors. On that basis a lot of cases have to be re-tried because the jury wasn't applying the correct standard. That's how important this is.

**Another interesting legal fact, if both of the Loams were being charged with the same crime, they would not both get the same attorney. They would be what is known as co-defendents, and at least where I work, one of them would wind up with a private attorney who is paid for by the state due to the public defender's office having a conflict of interest. This is basically because in theory the best defense for either one of them may be to blame the other one, and so one attorney cannot act in the best interest for both of them. If they both got their own attorney and decided to work together to prove both of their innocence, that's totally fine, but there would be more of a process to ensure that no impropriety was going on. Again, I know this is for story purposes, but just a little fun fact from your local public defender - admin assistant.

[youhideastar]

The U.S. legal profession and the OTW: a few thoughts

I don't feel that I have a ton of value to add to the conversation currently taking place about structural/organizational problems with the OTW and the way that those affect the well-being of fans in general and OTW volunteers in particular. But given that it appears some of those problems are (correctly, in my view) attributed to the Legal Committee and given that I am a real, live practicing U.S. lawyer, I thought a few comments about the legal profession and how that might be affecting the Legal Committee could perhaps offer a little value. To be clear, I am not now and never have been an OTW volunteer of any kind, let alone for the Legal Committee (a thing I really regret now!), and I do not know the current or former composition of the Committee beyond what is general fandom knowledge. I'm also super uncomfortable purporting to speak for the entire legal profession, but to keep this post to a manageable length, I'm going to leave out all the caveats and "on the other hand"s that I would normally include. Please forgive my presumption and feel free to add on or take issue!

The OTW website says the Committee is "[m]ostly comprised of legal professionals." My understanding is that it is almost entirely comprised of U.S. attorneys. This has demographic implications. To become an attorney here, you must be at least ~26 years old, for starters (you need an undergraduate degree, a 3-year graduate law degree, and then you need to pass the bar exam), and most new lawyers feel very wet-behind-the-ears and would be hesitant to volunteer alongside more experienced lawyers (much less to challenge them) for years thereafter. This means that Committee members are likely to be the fandom old guard - they remember Strikethrough and were probably around for the founding of the OTW itself. Additionally, the legal profession is disproportionately white, male, and wealthy.

The legal profession is incredibly hierarchical and credential/status-obsessed. To a degree that outsiders would probably find hard to believe. You can practice law for 30 years and people will still want to know where you went to law school and where you clerked afterward (and will still take you less seriously if your answers aren't "a top-14 school" and "a federal court"). In this pecking order, law professors are very, very high. Second only to judges. And no professor ranks higher than a professor at Harvard freaking Law, such as, e.g., Rebecca Tushnet. Even a professor at a low-ranked law school, like Betsy Rosenblatt, gets a lot of deference.

Lawyers do not take non-lawyers seriously. We go through this grueling law school admissions process, followed by 3+ years of hazing (that leaves a demographically unremarkable group of law school admittees with shocking rates of mental illness and substance use problems) teaching us that only we have the keys to understand this hugely important system of rules that governs every aspect of human interaction, stuffing our minds with a whole new language of "attractive nuisance" and "expressio unius," and then we're unleashed on a world in which people are constantly doing stupid shit that's going to get them sued, and it breeds both unhealthy insularity and a hell of a God complex. It makes us think we can do anything (like write public statements without input from a professional communications team...).

Lawyers are pathologically risk-averse. First, we self-select for that - most law students are kids who were damn good writers but scared of trying to make a living writing fiction/screenplays/whatever. And second, law school trains us for precisely that: the exams test, not primarily for knowledge of legal rules, but for a skill called "issue-spotting," which is basically "looking at a set of facts and figuring out all the million ways the people in that scenario could get sued." For many practicing lawyers, figuring out how to spot shit that their clients are doing that could get them sued and then telling them to stop it is their whole job. And it can be exhausting, because people/organizations love doing shit that could get them sued. It's like parenting a toddler - constant vigilance to keep the client from sticking their fingers in a metaphorical wall socket or running out into the metaphorical street. (See how I fell there into #3, framing non-lawyers as children who need the lawyer-parent to keep them out of trouble? It comes so naturally.) The Committee has managed to keep the OTW from being sued for 16 years (to my knowledge) and counting, despite the fact that the org's projects, especially AO3, engage in incredibly legally risky activities. To give the Committee their due, that is a hell of a track record. You can see how that might feed the God complex.

There are also, to be clear, many good things about the legal profession and a legal education. But the goal here is to give fans who are outside of this very specific and insular subculture a few pieces of information that might help them understand why this body of people is acting the way it's acting - not to excuse it, but rather to help folks understand what might need to change both within and around the OTW's Legal Committee to create the better OTW that many in fandom, including me, really, really want to see.

Please feel free to ask questions and to correct anything I got wrong! And apologies again for generalizing at such a high level.

[fredseibertdotcom]

 Fearless. Three stories. 

Bob Pittman was my boss (I wrote about Bob as one of my mentors here), the one who gave me a lifetime career in television, when I was positive I was going to be a record producer. Like great bosses can sometimes do, he drove me nuts on more than one occasion (God knows how many times I annoyed him!), but more often than not gave me the rope to hang myself (thanks Bob!). But over the years I watched him succeed over and over and I finally have had enough distance to see...

...that Bob is fearless. A fearless competitor, fearless leader, fearless mentor, probably a fearless flyer. It’s one of the many qualities of Bob’s that’s brought him from radio and MTV to the heights of media.

I had a first hand look on this numerous times, with Bob as a boss, then a client, and finally as a friend. Here are three stories that not only have stuck with me for the past 40 years but have affected my own behavior, but personal and professional ever since.

1.

Very early on at MTV Networks, we had a management offsite meeting in Montauk. I’m not much of a joiner and not a drinker, but one night I found myself in a packed car of party co-workers; seven folks in a car meant for five. I was stuffed in the back with Bob and someone sprawled across our laps. 

You have to know how isolated Montauk is, and at night there are no streetlights, and here we were barreling through the darkest of roads. Suddenly, Bob leaned forward and put his hands over the driver’s eyes.

“We did this all the time at home in Mississippi. No one ever got hurt!”

I wasn’t so sure his luck was going to hold.

The woman on my lap leaned in close and said, “That’s what I like about Bob. He’s fearless.”

.....

2.

Bob was 25, I was 27, he was my boss as the head programmer at The Movie Channel, a start up, early cable channel owned by Warner Amex Satellite Entertainment (WASEC), a joint venture between two huge corporations, Warner Communications and American Express. Every expense was heavily scrutinized for efficiency and effectiveness, and my first production assistant was brought on as a freelancer only. He was creative, smart and funny, if a little disorganized.

A few months in he up and quit. “I’ve got an eye disease, I’ll be legally blind in a few months. I’m going to go live with my parents and I’ve sold my comics.” He’d been collecting since he was in grade school.

It came out that his vision was kind of like being underwater with eyes open and the degeneration would stop at a certain point. Reading was possible but only with a machine that could take books and papers and blow the type up by several inches. Insurance would pay for it, but he was a freelancer with no coverage.

“Well, I’m not going to let you quit. Your problem isn’t your vision, you’re just a little messy and undisciplined. Let's see what I can do.”

Back in the day, corporate health insurance wasn’t as computerized and organized –or quite as necessary– as it is now and maybe I could pull a weasel move and back date him as an employee for health coverage and get him his machine. I didn’t know Bob all that well, we’d met through my first media mentor, but he seemed like a real corporate type –at least compared to me– and he’d have to clear it.

I held my breath and launched into the PA’s issue.

“It’s simple, backdate his employment, get him insurance.”

The PA stayed, got his gizmo, and legally blind or not went on to become the company’s worldwide creative director for sister channel Nickelodeon.

Bob wasn’t a corporate weasel after all, he was a fearless warrior for his people.

Bob in MTV days, with a frame from Silver Cloud Productions’ “Dot to Dot”

.....

3.

A month into my gig at The Movie Channel, Bob announced The Music Channel and asked me to lead the creative efforts of the channel-to-be. He had a clear vision of a format that would be, exclusively, music videos 24 hours a day, interrupted occasionally by “VJs.”

“So,” I asked Bob, “what else will be in the clock? Jingles, like Top 40 radio?” I hoped not, but I couldn’t really picture anything else.

“No! Are you kidding? NO!!! We’ll do animated logos.” Remember, we didn’t have a name no less a logo.

He could tell I was a little confused. “What?”

“Imagine this.” He was already sounded triumphant. “There’s an animated cow grazing around. All of sudden! An axe comes of of nowhere and cuts off its head. The head falls to the ground, veins spurting blood. The cow vomits! And in the vomit is our logo!!!”

Wow, I thought. Bob will let me do whatever I want!

Bob’s creative fearlessness was the beginning of a change in television that would reverberate for decades.

By the way, we’d never produce the vomiting cow, but...

"Bessie the Cow" by Tom Pomposello from fredseibert on Vimeo.

[holisticsoulhealer]

Flashback Friday - New Beginnings - A Spiritual Story

From SEPTEMBER 22, 2020

I love this subject matter. I feel I am more often than not, helping individuals and sometimes groups, to create and generate new beginnings. We are co-creators anyway, and I feel that the guidance and channeling that pours through me is mostly to help inspire me and all those lives that touch mine, to deliberately cause intentional change.

None of us are stuck actually, as the World turns whether we agree with each turn or not, so we may as well go with the flow that’s occurring with or without our permission. The real mastery is to learn to move our own energy in harmony with Universal flow. That’s when everything goes well and the outcome is for the best, and serves our highest good.

One of my greatest and most heartfelt stories happened in Central California wine country, at a time when my business success story was a little messy.

My mum, children and myself had moved to a small area just above Santa Barbara. I had the promise of a healing center, shared with an established therapist partner, along with several gifted therapists, that my husband had invested in. I didn’t know at that time that my partner wasn’t willing to share “anything”, least of all clients. It was a really challenging experience that kept me awake at night. Just when I had most of my whole body out of the door of that center, something extraordinary happened.

There were sweet, local promotions that were planned with our healing center’s participation. The first was outside of a clinic. I brought my massage table, which my partner took and offered tasters of her massage work. She proceeded to take all new clients that booked, leaving me to work in a simple, borrowed plastic garden chair. I wasn’t feeling very generous at all, when I decided to leave my table at home the next week for a larger health fair. I figured I wasn’t getting any of the new clients anyway, so I may as well simply use the plastic chair approach again.

I had a private meditation that morning led by the lady who ran the sweet “Angel shop” attached to our healing center. My grandmother had spiritually come to me with a golden key and a huge smile that all would be just fine. I cried a little and then swept up my mum, who as the greeter and was going to make sure the distribution of new clients was treated with more fair play. We set up my plastic garden chair, while all the therapists around me had massage chairs, real massage tables and they looked professional.

The morning was progressing in an amazing way. Something special was occurring. A woman sat down and I closed my eyes, with my hands on her shoulders, I whispered in her ear that she was a legal professional and needed to leave her work in the office, because it was never going to be a clean desk. Her shoulders were taking a hit for all the hard work she hadn’t let go of, and it was getting in the way of her having fun. I was being very discreet with the messages that came with the visions I had for her. She, however, was asking me in a loud voice “How do you know that?”

I was shushing her, so that we didn’t bring any attention to ourselves. Her shoulders gave way and let go of all the burdens she’d been carrying. I could literally feel the freedom her body was experiencing after we completed our little 30 minutes of intent healing.

She left my chair, giving her email and information to my mum. She wandered into the health store, whose land we were on, and suddenly I had a line for my plastic chair.

The clouds were moving in and rain was just starting to spit at us. Me and my plastic chair were only just under the canopy we had. My back wasn’t shielded. I was looking at my mum to indicate maybe it was time to go soon.

A man walked past my mum at that point. He dragged his right leg with his right arm dangling while he took each labored step. My mum offered him up my plastic chair, like a throne he may wish to sit on. He declined, pointing out that his stroke didn’t afford him any feeling on his right side.

She shrugged, knowing we had more than one foot out the door of this promotional day, and said he had nothing to lose. He walked and came back, nodding at her, giving her his information and sat down in my plastic chair.

I could immediately feel a huge energy with me, and my whole body was vibrating at a greater level. I closed my eyes, breathed deeply and floated my right arm over his. He mentioned that he could feel that. I focused on his arm, seeing all the flow of blood, lymph and veins in my mind’s eye. It was more than interesting to sit behind my own eyes, having a detailed anatomy lesson on him. I got lost in it, until I saw behind the closed eyes, that he was lifting and stretching his arm, opening and closing his fist with ease. I opened one eye and it was happening exactly as I had been viewing it. I quickly closed the eye as I felt suddenly overcome with emotion. A miracle was happening before my eyes. A deep emotion welled up in me, that was heavy and loud. I found myself openly sobbing and my mum was behind me, reminding me to breathe.

The man in my chair hadn’t moved his whole right side, which had been paralyzed with grief from the death of his mother 2 1/2 years earlier. His grief for her had locked him in a body that couldn’t move on the side that represented family and close relationships. Her death had created his stroke and much of his life had died with her. This day was an open door for new beginnings.

My mum loved every moment of that healing experience.

She told me on the way home that one of the other therapists had a man in his chair and was so focused on me, that he pushed the guy’s head almost all the way through the head part of the massage chair and had a little difficulty getting him out again. She was trying not to laugh while helping me to breathe and stay focused.

He came to the healing center and after 3 more sessions, he was back to work and in his life again. New beginnings had occurred for him.

Local news interviewed us.

My partner finally told me to leave and that she would buy me out, paying my husband back every penny, which she did.

We all had new beginnings from his reset button being pressed.

As always, please share this post with anyone that you feel can benefit from it! Please like us on your social media channels and subscribe to our mailing list if you haven’t already done so… We are mailing out a monthly newsletter and a recap each week of our blog posts and interesting tidbits… This is how you can stay informed with what is new in the world of The Holistic Soul Healer!!

Love & Blessings, Ruth

Connect with me and see what they have to say!!

BOOK NOW!!

[thomasxking]

Such a typical response. Isn’t everyone lonely? Thomas almost scoffed at the other man’s answer but he was probably the one to blame. He didn’t specify in what degree Mike would be lonely. Everyone felt lonely at one point or another – that’s why they sought the company of whores to make them feel better about themselves. Perhaps he should have dug deeper when it came to that question – but Thomas already had what he wanted. There was no threat there. Mike was merely curious regarding the legality of the whole place before knocking boots with someone else. It was an interesting way to let go. Most men only cared about how hot the staff member looked or whether or not they had a gag reflex. This one? Staff members had to be treated fairly or otherwise he wouldn’t sink his dick anywhere. As long as he paid… Thomas truly paid no mind to whether or not his clients would fuck the staff members. “You could always sleep with the clients if you are so reticent about our staff.” They sought to have a little bit for every possible taste but not even a King could control what a person would want. At the question regarding the Blackwell, all Thomas could do was let out a faint chuckle, his long fingers tensing on Mike’s shoulders for a moment before he withdrew himself from the client’s personal space – gaining some distance from him but never looking anywhere else. “Now, that is an interesting story. Not all families are cookie-cutter, Mr. Reynolds. Not all fathers love their sons or are proud of their achievements.” And that was not his story to tell – but he could at least enlighten the former fed on how he and Alexander came to become the new owners of that empire. It was not public knowledge – at least for those who were new to the Haus – but those who had transitioned from one family to the other knew how things had gone down. It was not a state secret… so there was no reason for Thomas to conceal the truth from Mike. Why not? If anything, he would become more curious and end up asking Steven all the wrong questions and get his head chewed up and spat out in the process. “The Blackwell brothers – Joshua and Steven – were supposed to become the owners after their father’s passing. That was how things were expected to happen. But their old man flipped them both off on his will and left everything to my father, someone with whom he had been in business for decades. One last big fuck you to the kids he probably never loved. I know they didn’t take the news well but apparently, one of them is happily married so he couldn’t care less and the youngest had his own issues to deal with. So, our father got the deed for the Haus. And when the old timer decided to finally die and rot in hell – both I and Alexander got the deeds of the Haus. Co-owners.” Never hold a damn grudge against your parent if they are still alive, for he will fuck you over in a damn heartbeat. “So, as you can see – there wasn’t much of a choice on their end. And neither one of them felt like contesting his will, so here we are.” As the new owners of that exclusive and decadent brothel.

“How long will it take for you to finally realize that no matter where you look, you won’t find a thread to pull? Everything is legalized, Mr. Reynolds. We all know very important and very influential people use existence to allow this place to run under the radar – because it suits their needs. The staff is fairly treated. We build a paradise on earth, we hire the hottest guys we can find and to fit everyone’s tastes… so why are you still asking questions? You’re retired, Mike.” Thomas’ lips curled into a smirk as he tapped his fingers over the glass surface of his desk. “You should turn off the investigator mode and simply… enjoy. That’s why you’re here, right? To find yourself… not to question people.”

The conversation between the two of them had certainly taken a turn that Mike hadn't expected. His reasoning at the Haus wasn't much of something that he liked to discuss because the few people that he did bring it up to, they didn't seem to understand it. And yeah, Mike could understand why. Why come to a highfaluting brothel when he could easily just go to a therapist? He had gone to a therapist and they weren't much help to him. All they told him was that he needed to heal and eventually, he would find the parts of himself that he had lost, which Mike already knew that. He didn't know how to heal, however. That was the part he was struggling with. And to him, the only logical way to get back to where he desired to be with other people was to put himself into close proximity with several people.

While the other spoke, seeming to understand in some modicum why Michael was there, he couldn't help but get the feeling that maybe, in some way, shape or form, Thomas was trying to sell the idea of the Haus to him. Why? He wasn't quite sure. It really shouldn't matter to the man as long as Mike was paying, which he was. He highly doubted Thomas cared about his well-being. That didn't really seem like something that was on the owner's agenda. But perhaps he was wrong... Mike didn't think so, however.

He took a mental note of the name Blackwell and he made sure to store it away for future purposes if he deemed them necessary. However, that thought seemed to float right out of his head the moment Thomas put his hands on his shoulders. Mike was, generally, a pretty tense guy but the sudden action caused him to tense up even further. His shoulders raised before he rolled them and cleared his throat, pulling himself forward to avoid the touch from him, "Sorry." He mumbled, "I wasn't...expecting that." Mike could do with touching if he knew it was coming. Then he had a moment to prepare himself. Anything other than that, he tended to just shrink away from the contact.

After a moment, he leaned back into the chair and his hands, rubbed together a bit, "Isn't everyone lonely?" Mike asked, "Is that not one of the reasons to be here?" It seemed pretty obvious to him, "My loneliness is self-made. For a while, it was easier to just...be by myself and to deal with my own shit without anyone else around." He paused for a moment, "But I realized that shit was harder to deal with alone and I shouldn't have to do it that way." Another pause, "So...yeah, sure. I'm lonely." Long story short.

Releasing a breath, he posed his next question to the owner, "Why did the Blackwell's give up the Haus? Seems like a lucrative business to keep around."

[scmg11]

EMILY JUNK x READER

YOU’RE MY FLASHLIGHT (PART 3)

A/N: HELLO PEOPLE! Sorry for disappearing for so long, but studying is taking so much of my time and when I try to write something I fall asleep two seconds later from exhaustion lol.

Anyway, here we are! I hope you guys will like it!

Sending love ❤️

-

Summary: a deeper look into Y/N and Emily's friendship as the girls get ready for WORDLS. And they meet DSM.

Warnings: none.

Word count: 3247 words.

-

"Girls! We leave in 10! I want you all here in 5!" Chloe yelled from the bottom of the stairs to urge on the girls in their bedrooms getting ready. Beca was nowhere to be found, she saw her sprint up the stairs about an half an hour ago and was yet to be ready and here with her as her co-captain duties asked her to. The first to be ready and walked down the stairs was Y/N and the redhead wasn’t surprised at all, the girl loved to be ready on time and that was the best quality she adored about the new Bella. But what surprised her the most was seeing Stacie following her after. The tall blonde was renowned to be always the last one ready and they always had to wait at least half an hour when they had to go to a party. "Stacie, is that you?"

"Don’t pull any jokes cap, Y/N is simply rubbing off on me." Stacie smiled brightly when Y/N nodded proudly at her, so the blonde bumped their shoulders together. Soon after all the other girls started walking down into the living room, all ready to go to the DSM performance at a mall.

"Beca, please. Next time try to be on time." Chloe reprimanded good-naturedly at the brunette, who simply nodded embarrassed, before meeting her sister’s sympathetic gaze and grinned softly in return.

-

"Remember, we’re going to establish a contact to know their weak spots to use to our advantage." Chloe whispered conspiringly at them as they rode the escalator up to the second floor of the mall, before turning around when it was time to step away, rolling her blue eyes fondly when they settled on the blonde rubbing sexily on a car and letting strangers taking pictures of her, "Stacie." She reprimanded before walking away.

"Keep it in your pants baby." Beca added before following the redhead, the Bellas on their tail.

The only two separating from the group to pull Stacie away from that car were Y/N and Emily. The tall brunette watched with fondness the Y/H/C girl pushing people aside and yelling in authoritative voice, "okay people. Show is over. My client here is a renowned, well-know top model, so if you want to keep those pictures, you are going to pay for them. The payment will be endorsed by our agency, so please step over to be contacted soon."

Emily restrained herself to snort when she saw people immediately delete those pictures and walking away from them. When the two joined her back, she regarded Y/N with an amused look on her face, the sides of her lips curved up and her left eyebrow arched up in merriment. "I’m pretty sure this isn’t what usually happens. You can legally take photos of a top model without having to pay them." Emily had some trouble finishing her sentence without laughing, but she succeeded, snorting loudly only after speaking to the girls.

"Shh, people don’t need to know that, legacy!" Y/N whispered under her breath and linked her arms with the two tall girls before walking where the DSM performance was going to take place with big, carefree smiles gracing their faces.

-

The performance was… amazing. To say the least. Every single Bella tried to cover up their amazement and astonishment with rolling eyes and unamused frowns, that deepened as soon as the group approached them. Damn, their so tall and attractive.

Y/N listened only half of the awkward conversation her sister had with Kommissar, face slapping herself mentally when Beca made a total gay-fool of herself. Her ears then picked up when Pieter started making fun of Emily. "Hey, look at this giant. Do you even pass through doors or you just bump your forehead every time?" Emily’s frown created a crease between her eyebrows as she listened to the deep accent of their opponents, her eyes widening at the clear insult while a small pout stretched over her lips. "Mh, you look like a confused, lost fish. Maybe those hits on your forehead made you stupid."

"Hey Arschloch, sorry to bother you, but-" she started yelling to make fun of his height, "I don’t know if you can hear me over there, but worldwide this shirt is called a fishing net. Next time consult a dictionary or search online what a t-shirt is." Y/N clicked her tongue in satisfaction, linking her right arm with Emily’s left one and walked them away from DSM stunned from her comeback with a big, satisfied smile, hearing someone -probably Stacie or Amy - snapping their fingers to emphasize Y/N’s words before all the Bellas followed out of the big room and successively the mall. As they were outside in their parking lot, they drtatchec, reluctantly, their arms and stopped when all the girls patted on Y/N’s shoulder and complimented her for roasting their opponents since ‘Beca was doing a poor job’ as they put it.

"Hey, thank you for saving me up there. I didn’t know how to react. He was intimidating as he looked at me up and down." Emily hugged her from behind before falling into step with her once again.

"Don’t mention it. I know how people like him are with innocent, vulnerable people. They just need some roasting that embarrasses them in front of everyone from time to time to taste their own medicine. I’m happy to help you learning how to do that."

"Oh yes please!" Emily enthusiastically gripped the girl’s right arm and pulled her into her body, excitedly side-hugging her while the younger Mitchell laughed softly at the brunette’s cute reaction.

-

"Okay guys, listen up, Beca and Y/N are working on our set for WORLDS so for now we are going to work on our coordination. DSM are incredibly synchronized, we need to achieve that level!" Chloe haphazardly pointed with her hand on the board with DSM name written on it as the Bellas were sat all around her and listening to their co-captain closely with focused looks on. "Now, I want you to run 3 laps! GO, GO, GO!" The girls frantically sat up from their chairs and put them aside before starting their routine of running the perimeter of the auditorium.

At the end of their workout, they gathered their things and started walking out. Emily approached Y/N while she was stocking her computer and headphones in her backpack, "hey!"

"Hey Em!" Y/N replied excitedly and sending the tall brunette a bright smile over her shoulder before zipping up her bag.

"There workouts are really hard albeit useful, but we didn’t sing anything at all." Emily spoke with the softest voice Y/N ever heard and she was almost sure her insides just about melted at that cute tone.

"It’s my fault actually. Beca is busy with her classes but she started working on the setlist but I’m struggling with an English literature essay, so we didn’t find enough time yet to go over our setlist together and to create the perfect mashup for the Bellas to sing. Last night I started writing down a bit of the music arrangements but I fell asleep after the first few notes." Y/N admitted with a soft snort as she scratched her neck in regret but the melodic laugh following her statement almost made her loose her balance when the sound made her dizzy with her stomach doing somersaults.

"It’s okay. If you need some help, I would be glad to give it to you. I’m good in English literature and it would be a sort of repayment for my biology tutoring sessions." Emily stared with so much earnest in her eyes that Y/N almost felt overwhelmed at the sincere gesture.

"Thank you, really."

"It’s no problem. When is the delivery date?"

"Thursday at noon."

"Okay we have 4 more days to work on that essay. Let’s go, c’mon. You’re buying pizza." Emily told Y/N with a playful authoritative voice and pushed Y/N out of the auditorium before linking their arms together and trotting to the Bellas’ house to start their tutoring session.

"I like this bossy side of you, legacy." Y/N joked as she let being led by the tall brunette as warmth settled in her chest at the soft laugh leaving Emily’s mouth.

-

"Okay Em, this is an easy one. What are the differences between plant and animal cells?"

Emily thought about it, staring deeply into Y/N’s eyes full of encouragement and support, "mh, okay- one of the most important difference is that plant cells have a cell wall that provide them support give them shape, something that animals cells do not have."

"YES! You’re gonna do amazingly great in your test tomorrow!" Y/N interrupted Emily from continuing with her answer, knowing she knew the complete answer by heart, and threw her postcards with biology questions on it in the air and hugged Emily tightly. The gesture took Emily by surprise and made them fall on Y/N’s mattress with Y/H/C girl’s right on top of Emily with a small shriek, but when the brunette finally wrapped her brain around Y/N embracing her, she hugged her back just as tightly as excitement settled all over her body.

"Guys, we’re gonna start movie night, let- am I interrupting something?" Stacie opened their bedroom door and as soon as her eyes settled over the two girls splayed on Y/N’s bed, a smirk flitted over her lips and wiggled her eyebrows suggestively at them.

"We just finished studying- we’ll be down in a minute." Y/N disentangled herself from Emily and sat up as she cleared her throat to try to get over the embarrassment of getting caught in a compromising position even if her brain knew it was nothing remotely sexual. It was only the thought of Stacie’s endless teasing that was stressing her out. She stretched her hand out to help the brunette up, lingering her hand on Emily’s one a little too longer before pulling it away and walking towards the bedroom door, opening it and stepping aside, "legacies first." She joked and reveled in the soft giggle Emily emitted while passing Y/N and shoving her gently as she walked out of the room, Y/N falling close behind with a big, dumb grin on her mouth.

-

Halfway through the movie Y/N sat up to go into the kitchen and pour herself a glass of water, only for her to come back into the room with the girls hitting each other with pillows and laughing care-freely, "guys I left you for like 10 seconds!" Y/N snickered softly but happily accepted the pillow that Flo was offering her, merging into the pillow fight as her body filled with happiness for these dorky girls that her heart already grew fond of. A few moments later she was hit right in the face by a pillow, causing her hair to ruffle up as she stared ahead of her into space confused. Her eyes settled then to the figure laughing loudly beside her, "oh I see how it is, mh. It’s on Junk." Emily let out a cute shriek of surprise when Y/N hit her repeatedly on her back, trying to shield herself away from her and flailing blindly behind her with her pillow trying to hit her too but always missing her target. So then Emily dropped her pillow and tried to escape from Y/N’s attack, but the other girl was too fast. Y/N threw her pillow behind her and flung her arms around Emily’s waist to prevent her to run away, the quick movement causing them to fall down on the couch, Y/N right on top of Emily. Y/N lifted her head from Emily’s abdomen to stare into Emily’s magnetic brown eyes before both of them erupted in a loud laugh. "I would have never let you escape after what you did."

"Y’know Mitchell, you’re starting to become more overdramatic than your sister."

"It runs in the family, babe." Y/N realized how she called Emily only after winking at her. Then she was too much occupied to gulp in concern for saying more than she should have to notice Emily’s shy smile and the faintest of blushed appearing on her cheeks.

Emily opened her mouth to try to at least respond to that flirty remark, but she was interrupted by Beca now walking into the living room, causing both of the girls to stand up to hear what she has to say. "Guys, we have an invitation for a singing competition. Tonight."

"Do we have to sing?" When Beca simply nodded, Emily lifted her fist up in the air in victory and celebrated loudly, her happiness clearly showing, "finally!" She then turned around and high-fived Y/N, who reciprocated just as enthusiastically.

-

After they got ready, they all headed to the address specified on the envelope, everyone one excited to partecipate in this singing competition, especially Emily since this was her first performance with the Bellas.

"I’m so thrilled to sing with you guys tonight! All we do now is just workout!"

"Don’t remind me legacy! It seems like the redhead had gone crazy." Fat Amy patted Emily’s shoulder after she finished her excited speech, Chloe turning her head around in fake annoyance at the Australian messing around with her before resuming her step beside Beca on the front of the group.

After they entered the house and were welcomed by a really creepy guy, they were lead to an hallway, that was so very sketchy that Y/N flitted her eyes around to find a safe escape if they needed one. As soon as Beca opened the curtains in front of them, she sighed out loud in gratitude when her stray thought of being kidnapped after they fell for a stupid invitation was completely destroyed by the sight of all kinds of acappella groups gathered around the room. Emily noticed Y/N sighing out loud and smiled tenderly at her while she caressed the side of her arm gently.

"I had the same thought." Emily whispered into Y/N’s ear and heard the girl chuckle softly, "I was ready to put into action my non existent hand-to-hand combat skills."

They both shared a whispered laugh before they walked further into the room to mingle with the other groups there. "Hey Jesse!" Emily and Y/N stopped in front of Jesse and Benji, Y/N greeting the dark haired boy first, before waving at Benji. "Hey Benji! Guys have I introduced you to Emily? She is our new Bella."

"Yes, we met at the activities fair. It’s so nice to see you guys again." Emily spoke up with her signature cute, bright smile and waved at the two Treblemakers eagerly.

"I- S-S-I- H-" Benji stuttered with a dumb expression on his face, causing Y/N’s left eyebrow to arch in question.

"Is he okay?"

"H-Hi! It’s so see to you nice again." Benji furrowed his eyebrows at the his failed attempt in speaking, finding three pair of bemused expressions staring back at him. "It’s so nice to see you again." Benji corrected himself, before nodding in satisfaction for finally putting his brain into gear.

"Okay, I see now why he is your best friend." Y/N quipped as she tapped Jesse behind his back amused.

The two excused themselves and walked over their group as Emily and Y/N continued to talk to people from different groups. "Who do we have here? Bella’s’ fresh meat." Kommissar clapped her hands together and stared them down from head to toe. "Are you sure you two can sing?"

"I bet they just make squeaky sounds that they just call singing." Pieter butted in with a sneer on his face.

"Alright greased sauerkraut, first thing first you guys are terrible with your insults and second, why are you so obsessed with these strange fishnets shirts and showing your stomaches? I have abs better than his and I don’t put them on display every time like he does." Emily turned her head around at Y/N’s admission and her eyes involuntary fell down on the girls clothed torso. "Mh do you know what I think? I think you use your bodies to distract people from your poor excuse of your singing skills."

Fat Amy yelled a loud ‘bam’ and mimicked a mic drop as she shook a smug Y/N gently. Emily just now noticed all the Bellas gathered behind them and witnessed Y/N roasting their enemies once again with smug smirks on their faces and wiggling eyebrows. Emily dwelled just a second why she was so engrossed on Y/N’s talking about her body shape that she didn’t notice their friends approaching them, but her thoughts were interrupted by a loud voice echoing around the room through the speakers hung onto the walls. "You don’t scare me, you tall, perfect goddess who smells like cinnamon- damn it!" Beca slapped her forehead in frustration for complimenting Kommissar instead as they saw DSM walk away from them.

"Nice comeback sis. Next time try to take your gay panic down a notch." Y/N mocked Beca, chuckling a second after when Beca pushed her on the shoulder with a roll of her eyes but with an amused smile on her lips and a small, embarrassed blush on her cheeks, before they focused on listening the competitions rules.

-

"Chloe please, she already apologized like a hundred times. It wasn’t her fault." Y/N interjected as they all walked into their living room. The riff off didn’t go too well and they lost their opportunity to beat DSM before WORLDS. "We just need to work harder and to have our revenge." Y/N caressed Emily’s shoulder in reassurance, the brunette smiling at her in appreciation and pushed herself into Y/N’s body for more comforting.

"You’re right. I’m sorry, for being so harsh. Now let’s take some rest. We are going to plan our next move."

They all went separate ways for the evening, Y/N opting to change into a pair of black sweatpants and a green Barden university hoodie before opening her laptop and working on their setlist and a few mashups before going to bed. She was putting her headphones on when a soft knock on the door pulled her attention from her laptop to settle on the shy brunette fidgeting on the doorstep. "Hey Em."

"Hey. Are you busy?"

"No, I was starting on a few mashups of our setlist. Wanna help me?" Y/N smiled encouragingly at the girl, who reciprocated the gesture with a small, shy grin, before nodding and closing the door behind her. She walked further into the room and sat on Stacie’s empty bed since Stacie stayed at a friend’s dorm to start working on a chemistry project.

"I don’t bite miss Junk." Y/N cracked a joke hoping to ease the brunette’s nerves, smiling in victory when she saw Emily emit a soft chuckle while sitting up from Stacie’s bed and walking towards Y/N, mimicking Y/N and laying down with her back on the bedpost right beside her before looking down at the laptop. "Here." Y/N stretched her arm to open her bedside drawer and pulled out another pair of headphones and connected them to the laptop. Emily took the headphones from Y/N’s hands - Y/N dwelled on the jolt of electricity running from their fingers touching down to her toes for just a second - with a tentative grin and pushed on Y/N’s shoulder with her own.

"Show me what you got Mitchell."

[ursulasfishandships]

You Saw Beyond- Part Four

AN: Hello! Sorry for the late update, I had senior prom and all the drama that comes with it. I will be posting a masterlist soon so all of the chapters can be organized nicely. It really does make me happy to see all your nice comments and messages. I enjoy writing and I'm happy you enjoy my writing <3

“It is nine in the morning, why are we watching National Geographic?” Harvey Dent groaned as all of the interns sat on the couch. Falcone pressed pause, the TV freezing on a red-headed woman holding a potted plant. 

“This, Mr. Dent, is your client. Mrs. Pamela Isley Anderson. She is a TV personality who has made tons on her shows about gardening.” 

“Hey, I know her!” Harleen interjected, “My mom watches her shows all the time. Yeah, Sexy Seeders!” Bruce and Harvey let out a little chuckle. You were unfazed by the topic. 

“You can laugh boys, but she has been accused of murdering her 60-year-old husband. Her step-daughter caught her covered in his blood. She claims she did not kill him, but refuses to give an alibi.” 

“Did she?” Selina asked. 

“Well let’s just say Pamela is popular for her love of violent plants. It’s not out of the question.” Falcone moved to put the remote down. You raised your hand excitedly. “Hands, who think she killed him?” Edward watched as the whole group raised their hands and yours shot down. “Great. Here’s where you come in. Pamela has… trouble trusting me. I don’t speak her slang, but you kids do.” Your hand shot up again, but Falcone waved you off. “So what I need you to do is convince her to share her alibi. To the jail.” The group stood. Edward kept his eyes on you. It was so odd to see you in business attire. You looked so out of place. Edward also noticed how you hadn’t said anything to anyone after your rejection. But he couldn’t keep thinking about you like this, he had the case to focus on. At the jail, he approached Pamela. 

“Mrs. Anderson? I’m, uh, Edward Nashton. I’m co-counsel with Falcone for your case. I also brought with me our interns. These are the real cream of the crop from Gotham Law.” He stuck out his hand to her, to which she just glared. “Ah, alright.” He coughed. “We’d like to discuss your case with you. We want you free as soon as possible. That way you can bring your message back to your fans.” 

“Well, that’s all I really want.” She crossed her long legs. 

“Perfect. We just need an alibi.” 

“No can do.” She shook her head. “Put me on the stand and I’ll be forced to lie.” 

“But, what about a plea bargain?” Bruce interjected. 

“That’s cute,” She taunted, “Do time for someone else? No. Way.” 

Selina spoke up. “With a plea, you would only do a couple of years. That’s pretty reasonable.” 

“Not really.” 

“Wow, what could be so bad that you can’t even give your alibi?” Harleen gawked. She always said that was off the top of her head. 

“Sugar, you have no idea.” Pamela stood from her spot at the table. “Now get out of here. I want a legal team who is actually willing to help me.” She shooed them away. Edward turned around, defeated. The rest of the team followed suit, except for you. Edward watched as you approached Pamela. 

“Ivy?” You asked hesitantly. 

“Oh my god, you follow me?” Pamela’s tough exterior dissolved, giddily smiling at you. 

“Totally! You helped my bamboo sprout, Fabio, go from a shoot to a shot!” You fangirled. Edward had no idea you were such a fan of Pamela. Why hadn’t you mentioned it soon-?

Falcone. 

“That’s amazing! At least someone on this legal team gets me.” 

“Of course, I believe you didn’t do it either. I mean there’s no way you would shoot someone. If you did kill someone, you would be more creative. And you wouldn’t get caught.” Edward thought about what you said for a moment, you were right. The motive was clear, but it just didn’t seem like the kind of kill the plant lady would go for. Edward watched as your conversation became more hushed. Pamela was spilling something to you. You pulled away from her and held out your pinky. 

“Promise?” She asked. 

“Your secret is safe with me.” The pair of you locked pinkies. Edward was shocked. You had won over their client with a short conversation. You were incredible. Falcone pushed past him. Edward followed. 

“Where’s Pamela?” He asked harshly, it was his fault he was late. 

“The guard took her away.” You said. Falcone’s face started to fall. “But I got an alibi!” 

“Great! What is it?” 

“I can’t say.” Your face fell. The rest of the group came into the room again. 

“What?!” Falcone whipped around to look at her. 

“I swore not to tell.” You looked around at the rest of them for a bit of sympathy. 

“Y/N, this isn’t a little pinky-swear thing,” Selina said, arms crossed. 

“You’re so right, it’s a big pinky-swear thing. I mean think about it, Pam isn’t guilty. She’s the queen of plants. Plants are proven to make people subliminally happier! And happy people just don’t murder their husbands.” You smiled sincerely, but Falcone was having none of it. He turned over to Edward. Shit. 

“Edward - a word.” He motioned for them to walk over to a separate corner. “Edward, I gave you two tasks. I was very clear. Lead the legal team and get me an alibi. You are zero for two.” He didn’t give him a chance to speak before turning around to the group. “Field trip over. Get back to work.” They moved to the door but Falcone turned to stop you and Edward. “Not you two. I don’t want to see glasses or legally dumb again today.” And they were left alone. You turned to Edward. 

“Eddie, I’m so sorry-” He wanted to believe you and how important this was to you, but you weren’t showing it. Maybe you were just like those mean girls. Using him. 

“I don’t need you to be sorry, I need the alibi.” 

“I can’t! Having an alibi isn’t the only way to win a case.” 

“No, but it would help us win.” He was getting angry. You could tell, you put a hand on his arm. 

“We have to do this the noble way.” 

“This isn’t about nobility! We are trying to save someone’s life.” 

“Are you the one who was all about nobility? Now here you are, just trying to impress Falcone.” You shot back. So this is what it was like to be on the other side of your fervor. 

“He’s my boss!” 

“A great boss who wants you to jeopardize your client's trust and integrity?” You poke his shoulder. He was taken aback by your actions and words. 

“Well, when you say it like that…” 

“Exactly, dork. My word means something, just as much as yours.” You softened up, noticing he was getting it. You nudged him towards the door. He looked at his feet as he followed you, thinking. 

“No one has called me a dork since 8th grade.” He muttered, not hurt, just surprised. 

“Maybe not to your face.” You giggled. That should’ve hurt his feelings, but it didn’t hurt coming from you. You made it sound like some silly thing that had happened to him. You made it all feel like a coming-of-age movie. 

“Why do you always have to be right?” He slumped his shoulders as they walked through the parking lot. 

“I’m not all the time, just whenever I’m with you. Come on, let’s go.” You grabbed his arm and pulled him across the street. 

“Where are we going?” He was helpless to you, not because of his lack of strength. No, he could easily overpower you if need be. But you had entranced him. 

“I love your little grunge-y nerd look happening here, but cargo pants are so not lawyer chic.” Your hand had slipped from his forearm to his hand. You were heading to the mall. 

“Didn’t your mother ever tell you not to judge a book by its cover?” He chuckled. 

“Yes, but I don’t like to pick up tattered books, do you?” 

“Heh, thanks. Really sweet.” It was his turn to roll his eyes. She was mean, but she was right. 

“The world isn’t perfect, you know that. I’ve been judged my whole life, too. I had to change my pink to navy.” 

“You’re right.” He sighed, trying not to focus on how sweaty his hands were getting. 

“I know.” You smirked. 

“Where are we going?” 

“You said you trust me, right?” 

“Yes,” 

“Then don’t stop now.” 

<?>

[ybangtannies]

Hiiii I am new t the whole requesting thing so first for everything 🥰 So, here it goes A scenario for yandere namjoon where there’s lawyer y/n who’s hardworking and mature x businessman namjoon who is corrupt in his business ways 👉👈 I dunno if this is okay 🤡

Masterlist

Word count: 3.1k

“I don’t get it, why don’t we just throw them off and stop having them as our clients? This could end so bad for us, the whole law firm could be affected by their- his antics.”

“We have already talked about this,” your friend sighed not sparing you a look, eyes focused on her phone, “yes, it’s a well-known secret that Mr. Kim’s business is corrupt, and he surely doesn’t make the most legal negotiations but,” now she did look at you, her brown eyes showing the tiredness of having to have this conversation with you, again, “we don’t really have the liberty of saying no to him. A lot of tabloids would be up in no time if we decided to stop representing them which would lead to him surely making declarations against us and that wouldn’t surely end up being beneficial for us. We’re already a small firm, Mr. Kim being our client is a huge deal, most of our - including yours- income comes from his business.”

You sighed, about to reply that yes, you understand her point but maybe if you made public those documents that prove his corrupt ways, the whole scene could be different for the firm and you’d be able to turn the tables, but she beat you and added, “plus, he’s a whole snack, girl, why are you even complaining?”

Not even bothering to answer, you rolled your eyes and let out a groan, taking your cup of coffee and going back to your office. On your way there, you saw your boss, “Good morning, y/n,” he said with a smile, “please remember that Mr. Kim is coming later to discuss some things with you.”

The smile you previously had on your face faltered a little, surely you decided it was better to erase that from your mind and was hoping -in vain- that another thing would have come up so Namjoon couldn’t make it to the meeting. “Of course, Mr. Min, I already have prepared the files he asked me about and possible solutions.”

“Good, it’s wonderful to see how hard you work, y/n. Keep it like that, and you’ll make it big.” With that and another polite smile, Mr. Min walked away from you.

You sighed heavily and finally arrived at your office. It seems that these days the only thing you do is sigh and feel frustrated. Of course, you knew that being a lawyer in a firm meant that you won’t always be working for people you like but you didn’t think that it would entail working with a corrupt businessman without any chance of exposing him or just putting a halt to your contract with him. You knew the risks of doing that, of course, and that it would most likely mean you being fired alongside all your co-workers and put on a blacklist for all the other law firms to know that you weren’t trustworthy. However, that didn’t shake the guiltiness and rage you felt when thinking about how hard you have worked all your life to get where you are now just to risk it all for an asshole that was incompetent enough to do dangerous deals with people he shouldn’t.

You were wrong, though, Namjoon wasn’t an incompetent, quite the contrary actually. He was a very clever man indeed, knowing that having a law firm by his side would most likely help him cover his back in case something was to happen, especially if said firm is small and he is the main source of income.

“Mr. Kim is here” said the receptionist through the phone.

“Okay, send him up here.”

You collected your thoughts and breathed deep, praying you won’t snap at him like it had happened some other times before. It wasn’t just that you didn’t like the way he was managing his company but his personality and overall aura… you didn’t like it, not one bit. No matter how handsome and attractive he was.

A knock was heard in your office, followed by a voice “It’s Kim Namjoon, Mrs. y/s, may I come in?”

You arched your brow looking at him through the glass windows your office had, seeing his dimples showing because of the smile he had on his face.

“You may, Mr. Kim” you spoke in a monotonous voice, focusing again on the screen of your computer.

Namjoon’s smile turned to be more amused seeing your reaction, the one as always: trying your best not to look at him. He opened the door and walked in, closing it after him and taking a seat in a chair in front of your desk, not waiting for you to ask him to do it. You probably wouldn’t, anyways.

Of course, he knew the animosity you felt towards him and while at first that made him a little miserable and he almost lost his mind, with time he started finding it more amusing than anything and viewed it as a challenge to finally get on your good side. Naturally, the desire of taking you with him to keep you in his house was always at the back of his mind and he knew that sooner or later he would have to resort to that if he wanted you to be finally his, which of course he did. Until that moment, though, he would enjoy you being feisty towards him, it was amusing and kind of endearing seeing you struggling and fighting against yourself to not give in.

“How are you feeling on this beautiful day, Mrs. y/s?” Namjoon asked with a grin, if you didn’t know better, you’d think he’s actually interested in your answer.

He’s so hot, y/n! And the fact that he’s going against the law and with your help at that, only succeeds at making the situation even hotter.

That’s the message your friend sent you merely minutes ago, probably when she saw Namjoon was on his way to your office. Message you, of course, decided to ignore.

“It’s been good so far but I’m afraid that a big black cloud has just appeared to ruin it” you answered with a fake smile and felt pride at seeing how his smile faltered. You almost felt bad if it wasn’t for the fact that he was a criminal.

Namjoon cleared his throat, clearly ready to say one of the numerous flirty lines he’s been trying to use on you since the very beginning, but you were faster than him and asked about what it was that he needed help with this time.

“Ah, you see, there’s this huge deal I’m about to sign in two days so I thought that it would be a good idea for us both to go through the contract together and also, I wanted you to redact a confidential agreement.” You hated the way in which he said it, like if everything were okay, as if it was just a normal deal and there was nothing fishy about it. You also hated knowing that he could very much do this with his own men -it wouldn’t be the first time- but still decided to come here to torment you.

That was how time passed: you both going through the contract, making sure everything was in order -or as in order as it could considering there were definitely some fishy things that needed to be disguised or be described in a very vaguely-, you trying to dodge every attempt from Namjoon part at flirting with you and him finding it both amusing and adorable.

You danced in your interior once everything was done and it was finally time for him to leave, looking into your watch you realised it was almost time for you to go home as well and mentally sighed in relief. You got over another day.

“If that was all, Mr. Kim, you’re free to go now,” you said with a tired smile that Namjoon noticed didn’t reach your eyes. He so desperately wanted to make you smile for real, be the one on the receiving end of the cheerfulness he knew you had in you; he’d make sure he was the only one getting it one day. “I’ll send you the confidential agreement tomorrow before lunchtime so you can go through it in case there is something else that needs to be changed for the day of the signing.”

“Just one more thing, miss” he said, getting up from the chair he occupied for almost two hours in your office, “I think it’ll be better if you came to me with the agreement in person instead of just sending it to me.” Namjoon saw the protest and confusion on your face and before you could give him a negative, he talked again “there had been several attempts these past few weeks at hacking my accounts as well as the one of my other employers so I’d prefer it if the agreement could me better in my hands rather than on my email. We’re working on it, but until I’m sure there would be no possibility for a cyber-attack...an ounce of prevention is better than a pound of cure”

As much as you wanted to say, ‘fuck no, not in a million years I’m going to see you more than was needed’, you obviously couldn’t, and there was no good reason for you to deny his request.

“Sure, I understand it. I’ll be there tomorrow.” Your answer came more tense than you wanted to, but you wanted Namjoon to know of your discomfort at the premise of having to spend more time with him.

“I’ll send a car for you, darling, there’s no need for you to go anywhere.”

With that and a wink, Namjoon abandoned your office, leaving you there hanging, you wanted to refute that there is no need for him to send a car for you, that you can very happily go on your own and have a car that works very well but, of course, he always has to have the last words. You rolled your eyes and groaned, touching the bridge of your nose. Tomorrow was going to be a very long day.

As Namjoon said, a car was sent your way to the law firm you worked at to take you to his office, or at least that was where you supposed you were going to meet him. But upon seeing the car taking a completely different direction from where it should go, your uneasiness started growing.

“Excuse me,” you called for the attention of the chauffeur, “aren’t we going to Mr. Kim’s office?”

“No, Ms. y/s, I was told to take you to Mr. Kim’s place of residence.”

That fucker, you muttered under your breath. Once you arrived, you couldn’t help but gawk at Namjoon’s place of residence. You were expecting it to be huge and over the top, that’s the kind of house that Namjoon required to have considering the way he carried himself, but this was something else. A whole family could live here, and they wouldn’t even have to see each other if they didn’t want to -and you were referring to a family of grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, parents, and kids.

The chauffeur opened the door of the car for you and was the one leading the way into Namjoon’s mansion as well. The interior was even more dazzling if that was possible: it was decorated in a minimalistic and modern way but there was a hint of old fashioned in some of the furniture. It was exquisite. You were guided all through the mansion until you arrived at the front of two huge mahogany doors, the chauffeur -you felt bad you didn’t ask for his name, he seemed nice- knocked on one of them and from the other side you could hear Namjoon’s voice ordering whoever was at the other side to come in, immediately he opened the door and made you a gesture with his hands for you to go in. You nodded your head and muttered a ‘thank you’ before entering the room. The door closed right behind you.

Namjoon looked up from his computer and a smile quickly found its way to his face upon seeing you right there in the middle of his office. He got up from his chair and moved around his massive table. “Y/n, it’s a pleasure to see you, please come and take a seat,” you did as tell and came near him, smiling slightly when Namjoon moved the chair so you could sit, “I apologize for the inconvenience I may have caused you with coming all the way here, some problems came up this morning and I wasn’t able to make it to my building.”

“Is everything okay, Mr. Kim?” You asked more out of courtesy than because you were actually concerned or interested in what his answer would be.

“Nothing you have to worry about, darling,” the paternalistic tone he used made you almost roll your eyes even if you were secretly grateful, he didn’t bother you with the problems of his corrupt business, “since it’s almost lunchtime, I asked my service to bring us the meal here later so we can eat together.”

“There was no need for that, Mr. Kim, I won’t be here much, you’re just required to go through the agreement and then I’ll be on my way to work again.”

Namjoon only hummed and went back to his chair in front of you. Without any further distractions you both proceeded to went through the document and, right as you stated, it didn’t take much time and since Namjoon didn’t really have any objections, you wrapped it up in no more than an hour but, much to your dismay, by that time the food has already been brought up to his office and you didn’t have it in you to deny it when it looked and smelled as delicious as it did.

“Please, try it,” Namjoon encouraged you, both of you have moved to one of the sofas on his office, and he took advantage of it and was now right next to you, “I didn’t know what you enjoy, so tell me if you don’t like this and I’ll ask for the chefs to make you something different.”

Now, that was a lie, Namjoon already knew everything there was to know about you, having made an exhaustive study of your life himself two days after seeing you for the first time; he knew the name of all your relatives, how many times you’d moved, the college you attended, the marks you got, hell, he even knew the name of all your ex-boyfriends and friends that were no longer in your life. You were fascinating to him, and he couldn't wait until he could uncover every single secret you kept to yourself.

“This looks amazing, I’m sure it’ll taste just the same” you said almost salivating, it’s been a long time since you last ate a proper home cooked meal. You could feel the intense gaze of Namjoon on you while you took the fork on your mouth and swallowed the food, you couldn’t help but make a sound of satisfaction at the taste and it was only in that moment that he averted his eyes from you at the sight, clearing his throat and taking a sip of the wine that was brought alongside the meal. “This is amazing! Thank you so much, Namjoon.”

You didn’t even notice you called him by his name or the real smile that was on your face and directed at him. But he did, and he could feel his heart galloping in his chest like crazy, feeling already addicted to hearing his name rolling on your tone without an annoyed tone to it and being on the receiving end of your more than beautiful smile.

You both kept eating and eventually started talking about everything and anything. It surprised you how you found yourself having a good time and enjoying Namjoon’s company more than what you thought you’d ever do. He was still an asshole in your eyes, and you didn’t like not one bit the way he made business, but you couldn’t deny that he gave you an interesting conversation and was funny even when he wasn’t trying to. Eventually though, you started to feel more and more dizzy, and a migraine was starting to form in your head.

“Is everything okay, darling? You’re getting paler by the second” you heard Namjoon voiced next to you, he sounded concerned and was closer to you than a minute before, one of his hands almost resting on your knee.

“Yeah...no, do you happen to have any pills? My head is starting to kill me…” your voice sounded estranged even to yourself and the strength was quickly leaving your body.

Before you could try to fight it, darkness consumed your every sense and the last thing you could feel or hear was Namjoon’s body pressed against yours and his smooth voice calling your name.

After twenty minutes or so, Namjoon finally decided that it was time to lead you to his room and rest your body on his bed. He’s been admiring your face, being this the first time, he has had the chance to do it from such a close distance, delighting himself in how perfect your body felt pressed to his and how from this day on, he’d be able to feel this way for the rest of his life.

He closed the door from his bedroom and locked it just in case, though he doubted you’ll wake up until tomorrow. On his way to the door, he made a call.

“What’s up, Namjoon?”

“I’m going there now, Yoongi. She’s already in my bed resting.”

Nothing more needed to be exchanged between the two men and Namjoon hung up right when he got into his car. Yoongi and Namjoon have been friends since they were both teenagers, having gone through a lot together. When Namjoon received an email with several photos of you he hadn’t order to take and a simple message saying, ‘we are keeping an eye on her too’, he knew he had to do something to keep you safe and it was actually Yoongi’s idea to lead you to Namjoon’s house, drug you and keep you there finally with him. They still had to figure out who the fuck had guessed Namjoon favoured you, but now that you were going to be safe by his side, he couldn’t help but smile silly all the way up to Yoongi’s building.

He knew he had a long way ahead of him until you fell in love with the same intensity, he had fallen for you, but he was sure you’d both get there and be the perfect couple he’d been dreaming of for so long.

[rosesisupposes]

Objections, Your Honor

Two lawyers are across the aisle in open court once more. But today something is off, and no one is happy with the result.

read on ao3

characters: mainly Logan & Janus; background Virgil, Patton, Roman, Remus, Remy, and Emile

pairings: soulmate Loceit; QPP Analogical; QPP Moceit; romantic soulmate Royality; romantic soulmate Dukexiety; romantic soulmate Remile

content tags: non-traditional soulmate AU; courtroom drama; arophobia and acephobia; shameless self-pandering with legal arguments about the MCU; gushing about QPPs; couples therapy

reader tags: @royally-anxious @jemthebookworm @arandompasserby  @sparkly-rainbow-salt @astral-eclipse​ @thelowlysatsuma @adorably-angsty @max-is-tired @almostoveranalyzed @potestessemagishomosexualitatis  @mariniacipher @vintage-squid

word count: 10,386

⁂

The day it happened was no normal day for Logan. But not, of course, because of that.

He cared because it was a trial day. Months of motions back and forth, weeks and weeks of preparation, and today was oral arguments. He normally avoided open court, particularly against such an opponent, but nothing could be done.

His case files were impeccably arranged in his padfolio, his grocery list of arguments annotated in precise writing, blue ink dotting the page with emphases and connections, his notepad prepared at his left.

He glanced to his right out of the corner of his eye at his opposing counsel. He didn't want them to see him looking. But he sneered internally at the haphazard stacks of papers spreading across the table and the garish gold ink that looped and curved across sticky notes.

The judge finally came out, and Logan stood, crisply buttoning his tailored jacket as he did so. At the signal, he identified himself clearly. "Logan Finch for the appellant, Your Honor." 

And then, from his right: "Janus Alighieri for the appellee, Your Honor."

Logan rolled his eyes internally. Janus was, unfortunately, a very familiar foe at this point. But then, they were two of the most respected lawyers in their state, with opposing specialties and reputations for innovative tactics.

Logan was self-aware. He had another reputation, too: as a black-and-white thinker, unshakable, unalterable. He preferred to think of it as a particularly strong conviction. Versus "The Snake" against him, who coiled and twisted the facts of his cases to benefit his clients.

And of course, that was the issue today - Logan strove to show that his client had a straightforward, airtight argument that should clearly prevail, while Janus found miniscule details that he said should be enough to distinguish the case at hand and make it different from previous decisions, enough so to allow the case to be decided in his favor. He'd charmed the jury at trial, and now argued against Logan's appeal.

Logan prided himself on keeping a cool head, but listening to Janus' speech just got under his skin. His neat handwriting started to get messier and messier as he furiously scribbled notes of counterarguments and responses to his opponent's points. Then Janus turned slightly, just enough to see frustration's color burn in Logan's cheek, and he smirked.

Logan barely heard the gasp from the observers behind the bar, because he'd just snapped his pen in his grip.

He looked straight ahead, somewhere slightly to the left of the judge's head, but he saw very little, his furious thoughts too loud to allow any else to be processed. But the audience was murmuring and talking, far louder than any judge usually allowed - what was going on?

A clerk from behind him hurried up to the judge's dais and whispered urgently in her ear. Logan had yet to look around, but he was slowly coming back to himself, enough to be confused at this disruption in normal procedure. He refused to look over at Janus' probably-still-smirking face.

The judge cleared her throat. "Counselors, we will recess for the day. Please join me in my chambers now."

Logan frowned, but cleaned up the broken pen and gathered his file neatly back into his leather briefcase. He didn't look over, but he heard the flurry and crinkling of papers as Janus threw his notes into his own bag. Without glancing over, Logan followed the judge to the small office at the back of the courtroom.

"Mr. Finch, Mr. Alighieri. I do hope there's a good explanation for this breach in propriety, not to mention the code of conduct," she said sternly as they both stood before her heavy desk.

"Breach, Your Honor?" Janus asked. He sounded just as confused as Logan felt.

"As barred attorneys, you are expected to know the code as well as I," Judge Kasel said severely. "No soulmates may be involved in a trial together, except as co-counsel."

Logan's ears roared. "Your Honor, I apologize, I must have misheard. Soulmates? How is that relevant-"

"Mr. Finch, don't play dumb with me - the entire courtroom saw!"

"Saw what?" Janus asked. His voice was oddly distant and strained from its normal silky tones.

Judge Kasel stared at them in disbelief. "You mean to tell me you both managed to not see that? I'm quite certain the entire county saw the glow just now, through even the back of your suits!"

"Glow?" Logan asked. His chest was suddenly very, very empty, a vacuum of air or substance, and had he not been sitting he was sure he would have fainted.

"Yes, glow, both your marks on your shoulders. Given your mutual surprise, I will assume that this was indeed unknown, and will not declare this case a retroactive mistrial. But you will both need to send in replacements from your firms."

Janus spoke up, his voice tinny. "Replacements, Your Honor? I should think even in light of this- development, only one of us would need to withdraw-"

"Mr. Alighieri, while I appreciate your dedication, I will not delay this trial for the entirety of your bonding. I will give you both 3 days to propose counsel to take over, and scheduling will proceed with them."

Oh fuck. Bonding, Logan thought, unable to speak. That absolutely ridiculous expectation.

The clerk poked her head in. "If they need to speak privately, this side office is empty."

"Yes," Logan responded robotically. "Yes, I believe we need to speak."

They filed into the small room. The clerk closed the door behind her, whispering "Congratulations!" as she disappeared.

Janus sat in one of the chairs heavily. Logan remained standing, staring blankly at the bookshelves built into the wall.

"I can't believe this," Janus said finally. "We've known each other for years, how could we possibly be...?"

"Soulmarks frequently emit a barely visible glow from proximity alone, particularly when located on skin that is generally covered. Heightened emotion or situations with high levels of stress lead to brighter glows that were invisible or unnoticed previously," Logan recited dully.

"Oh yes, how could I forget, I'm talking to Encyclopedia Brown," Janus said, rolling his eyes. "Of course you've memorized that too." He unbuttoned his suit vest dexterously despite his trademark yellow gloves, slumping forward in his chair as he threw his vest over the arm carelessly.

"At least one of us actually has a factual basis for this event, rather than us both being in the dark," Logan snapped back.

"Yeah, your vast knowledge of facts really helped! Did your misguided quest to know everything somehow miss the detail of who's your fucking soulmate?" Janus said, nearly whisper-screaming.

Logan whirled to face him, a fiery reply already on his lips, when he suddenly saw a blue light showing through Janus' white shirt, bright enough to glint off the polished chair back and off the glass of the picture frames on the wall.

He closed his eyes, breathing out slowly. "Yes. That was a detail I had not learned. It felt trivial, unable to affect my work. But now that it has, we're better off resolving this."

Janus deflated too. "Yeah. We should. If we can just get through this part, at least we'll stop glowing like horny teenagers."

Logan focused on a tiny flag displayed on the desk as he spoke, not looking over. "I know of a very respectable landlord who rents bonding apartments in the city. Nothing overdone or kitschy, no 'honeymoon' suites, just furnished apartments for indefinite stays."

"Fine. Not like we can't afford it, whatever the price."

"I have some arrangements to make at home-" Logan began

"As do I, unless-"

"Unless what?"

Janus took a breath. "How would you feel about living with a snake?"

"I rather thought that was the entire idea," Logan replied coolly.

Janus shot him a withering glare. "I mean a python, you absolute cotton-headed ninnymuggin."

"Ah, my mistake," Logan said calmly. "That should be fine. A pet, I assume? Or your chosen co-counsel?"

"Let's get one thing straight, Finch," Janus said, rising to his full height, looking down at his infuriating opponent. "I don't like you. I don't expect or particularly want you to like me. We are going to be residing together up until, and only until, our illogical marks have decided in their weird cosmic energy to stop lighting up like neon signs whenever we experience strong emotion in each other's company. I fully expect to be pissed off the entire time, which will make figuring that out easier. But you do not get to speak to me that way, or I'll-"

Logan looked up to meet Janus' eyes. "Or you'll what, Alighieri?"

"I'll report you to the bar for breaking the code, and convince them you already knew," Janus replied smoothly. "And you of all people should know- I am very persuasive."

Logan's eyes narrowed, but he nodded. "Fine. And yes, you may bring your python. I'll be leaving my cat at home, however."

"Fine with me," Janus said curtly, deflating back into his normal slouch.

"I will send you the details of the landlord I mentioned. I can make the arrangements within the hour."

"Sure. Wait-"

"What?"

"How are you going to send me the details?"

Logan paused. Their only real contact over the years had been in person or by professional communications. He could hardly use a process server or subpoena to give Janus his key. "Ah. Right. Your contact information, then?" He pulled out his notepad.

Janus pulled out his gold pen and scribbled his phone number at an angle, entirely crossing the college-ruled lines. Logan cringed but took it.

"I will contact you shortly, then. And I will may sure to look for pet-friendly apartments."

Janus nodded. "Right."

"Right."

They both paused.

"Uh. See you soon, then," Janus said, and left the room abruptly.

⁂

Janus had to hand it to him - the apartment was all Logan had promised. Clean, sleek, and spacious. The landlord had even left a spare heat lamp, so Janus' sweet Monty would be comfortable.

Best of all, there were several separate rooms in the suite - two bed, two bath, and two offices.

The kitchen was also well-furnished, and came stocked with staple foods. Logan had arrived, however, with extra bags of groceries.

"I brought my own additions," he said. "The landlord is a friend, but he doesn't buy from the shops I prefer."

He proceeded to pull out several large jars of kimchi, what looked like at least a gallon of soy sauce, and various bright packages that Janus couldn't read.

Janus resolved to take pictures and look up what these things were later. Not while Logan was standing here, glaring up and over as if daring him to comment.

"I've picked the smaller bedroom," Janus informed the shorter man calmly. "Monty is set up in there, so if you're weird about snakes, just avoid it. Actually, feel free to avoid it anyway. I've got a brief to write."

Logan made a noncommittal sound in response.

Hours later, Janus emerged from his office to eat something. His brief was finished, sent off to his senior partner. He hadn’t yet told the firm about the day’s events- only that the appeal would need to be handled by another partner with his associates’ help, he needed to take emergency leave, and he would let them know soon how long he expected to be unavailable. H

e found evidence in the kitchen that Logan had prepared, eaten, and cleaned up dinner for himself.  That was fine by him. He made his own food, grabbed a bag of candy, and retreated back to his room.

The next morning, he woke up at his normal late time, stretching in the sun. The kitchen once again showed evidence of Logan's presence- particularly the currently-soaking coffee pot.

When the sun started to descend once more and Janus had yet to see his new roommate, he grumbled. Guess he'd have to be the fucking practical one.

He blew Monty a kiss for good luck and stumped down to the rooms Logan had claimed. He rapped on the door. "Finch. We need to talk."

He waited. There was silence, then a slow drag of a chair. The doors cracked open.

"Yes? What about?"

"No. We need to talk. Or, fuck, I don't know. Be in the same room occasionally."

Logan sighed deeply, and opened the door more. "Fine."

Janus went to the living room and sat on one side of the couch. Logan followed him and settled on the chair facing him.

"So." Janus began.

"So what," Logan replied flatly.

"Sew buttons," Janus replied automatically.

"What?"

"Just something one of my friends says," Janus muttered.

"Ah. So what was it you want to discuss?"

"I don't know!" Janus snapped. "But I'd really like to get back to my life, eventually, and that can only happen if we bond." His lip curled.

Logan sighed heavily. "And how, exactly, do you propose we do that?”

Janus fell silent. He had very few ideas. Pop culture made it very clear that bonding was an extremely romantic event. First kisses. Proposals. Or, in the less sappy movies, it seemed to consist purely of falling into bed together. None of which appealed in the least, particularly not with Logan.

Logan stared expectantly. "Nothing? You just pulled me out with no ideas?"

"If you're the fucking brilliant one, you come up with one then!" Janus spat out the suggestion with a glare, but then he saw it - a soft gold glow shining through Logan's tee, reflected in the tasteful mirror behind him.

They both deflated again, glows reducing down to hidden beneath their clothes. 

Logan adjusted his glasses. "I. Ah. Apologize. I realize you are attempting to resolve this issue."

"But you're right. I have no idea how to," Janus admitted.

Logan took off his glasses to rub his eyes. "Unfortunately, neither do I. Perhaps just coexisting will be enough."

"How long will that take, though?"

"I haven't the foggiest."

They lapsed into silence.

Finally, Janus suggested, "Maybe we can do our work in the same room. Set up in the dining room with all our stuff. Coexist but in proximity."

Logan glanced over. "That seems relatively painless. Let us make an attempt, then."

⁂

Logan had not had any particular expectations for how well they could share a work space.

And yet, it was still far worse than he'd expected.

Janus talked to himself. As he read, as he wrote, as he researched. Not loud, but a constant stream of soft muttering, disjointed words and full sentences. 

It was the most distracting thing Logan had ever been suffered to experience.

"Will you please be quiet," he said tightly, after an hour passed with no signs of letup. 

"What do you mean?" Janus asked.

"That infernal whispering, please, could you stop?"

Janus looked at him quizzically.

"You're talking under your breath," Logan said. He felt a headache coming on. 

"Oh, am I?" Janus asked. "Sorry. I'll be quiet."

It lasted all of half an hour, and then the muttering started again. "SCOTUS said yes but that was a city sidewalk, 2nd says no but that was Lincoln Center, hm, decoration, use, separation, intent?" 

"You're doing it again!"

Janus looked slightly guilty. "It's barely conscious, it's how I process things. Could you just wear headphones?"

"I need silence."

"Noise-canceling, then?"

"Fine. Do you own a pair?"

But the headphones didn't help. The sensation was too odd, of being closed-in, and he kept bumping then as he went to lean against his hand. Finally, Logan stood. "I'm going back to my office. This experiment has failed."

Janus' eyes narrowed. "Well, thanks for deigning to sit in my presence for a full three hours before giving up."

"I'm not giving up, this is just not tenable!" Logan insisted. 

"Well, you asked for ideas, and I came up with one. If it's not working for you, you come up with a better one. Come find me when you're done thinking, I know it could take you a while."

He stood and grabbed an apartment key, and stalked out to walk off his frustration.

As he walked, he called his best friend.

"Hey Pat, it's me."

"Jan! Hi buddy, how are you?!"

He sighed heavily. "I want to go home."

"But you only just got there?"

"Yeah, and it's going shi- I mean, badly. Really badly."

"I'm sure you'll work it out," Patton said confidently. "You're a brilliant and wonderful human, and anyone smart enough to argue against you will be able to see that!"

"Thanks, hun," Janus said. "The fact remains that I also don't like him."

Patton hummed tunelessly. "It doesn't have to be instant, Jan. These things usually take time."

"Unlike you and Ro."

"Well, yes, but that's because we were meant to be!" Patton soft, his voice taking on that soft, besotted tone it always did when he talked about his soulmate.

"Isn't the whole point that all soulmates are meant to be?"

"Well, yes..." Patton faltered. "But it doesn't have to look like us, we're just hopeless romantics!"

"I know. How's wedding planning going?"

"We started watching movies for inspiration and got distracted with a Disney marathon," Patton said fondly. 

"But you had fun?"

"Absolutely!"

"Good," Janus said, meaning it. There were very few people, in his opinion, who deserved happiness the way Patton did.

He was quiet for a moment, then asked, "Pat- what if it was a mistake? What if we just have defective marks or something?"

"I'm sure that's not true!" Patton insisted.

"It just seems like - I mean, we're not even friends. Most people get to start from strangers at worst, but we've been antagonizing each other for years, what if, I don't know. Neither of us had a soulmate and so they glitched out?"

"You just need to find some common ground," Patton said confidently. "You can't both be so passionate about being lawyers without something more in common. I believe in you, buddy!"

Janus sighed. "Thanks, Pat. Say hi to Roman for me, tell him Monty misses him."

"Will do, nephew! Call any time you need, okay?"

"Love you, Pat."

"Love you tooooo!"

Janus realized he'd circled the block and was back at the apartment entrance. He steeled himself, then went back up. He repressed the petty urge to bang open the door to disturb Logan's quiet as much as possible.

Logan wasn't in the common spaces, but emerged not long after Janus returned.

"I feel I must apologize," he began. "It wasn't my intent to denigrate how you work. It is just clear that sharing a workspace is not going to be preferable for either of us."

"Yes, I'm aware I had a bad idea," Janus said, overly patient. "Kind of an odd apology, but I accept. Can I have lunch now?"

"Yes, of course. May I join you?" Logan asked.

Janus raised a distrusting brow.

"The idea of spending time in the same space was a good one. I thought we might try a context in which we don't need to focus."

"Fine."

They prepared food around each other, both managing to bite their tongues when they needed the same counter space or cooking implements, which Janus was proud of himself for. They ate in silence.

Janus heard Logan sigh in exasperation and braced himself for yet another snippy comment. Instead, he heard an unexpected question.

"Do you enjoy superheroes?"

"To eat? No, they upset my stomach," Janus replied drily.

"I mean to watch. Superhero movies and shows."

"Occasionally, yeah, why?"

"Perhaps we could watch one this evening. At the same time."

"Sure."

And they parted to continue working on their own.

⁂

Logan had been correct that, as far as superhero movies went, the MCU was a safe choice.

In retrospect, though, perhaps Civil War had been... less so.

It had started when Steve first objected to the Sokovia Accord plan- and Logan had scoffed.

Quick as a cat’s pounce, or an adder’s strike, Janus’ head whipped around. 

“You disagree?”

Logan glanced over briefly, screen light blinking off his glasses. “Well, of course. Didn’t New York and Sokovia show that some control is needed? Lawlessness leads to more civilian casualties.”

“And yet, if supers are controlled so much that risk of liability keeps them from acting at all, casualties would be just a tad higher, don’t you think?”

Tony and Steve’s voices raised on the screen as Logan replied, “What would the difference be of the villains and heroes if they all act with complete impunity?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, did we lose mens rea when we switched over into Marvel-land?” Janus asked, voice clipped. “Isn’t the entire basis of our modern penal system based on culpability, not just the act or harm done?”

Logan looked down his nose. “Of course culpability matters. But you well know that one of the factors for absolute liability is when an act is inherently and extremely dangerous. Say, for instance, displays of superhuman force in a densely populated area.”

“So you don’t think there can be any space for personal judgment on the heroes’ behalf?” Janus asked incredulously.

“Look what that space did already! Does the name Ultron ring a bell?”

“So of course, the one who made a terrible call is the one who now wants to be restricted? That sounds like asking for the global government to save him from himself instead of taking responsibility.”

“Better that those with actual accountability be the ones bearing the responsibility!”

“Oh, yeah, and we can definitely trust this government’s judgment! A Hydra infestation was all part of the plan!” Janus’ voice was raising, far louder than the movie that still flickered on, ignored.

“There still needs to be rule of law! Steve wants to abandon it all for one person, and a war criminal at that-!”

“And that’s incomprehensible?”

“Of course!”

Janus fixed his supposed soulmate with a glare. “And you mean to tell me that there’s no one, no one, that you would be willing to burn the world down for?”

Logan opened his mouth to respond, but Janus continued quickly before he could. “No one who won’t fight for themselves, because they think they’re not worth it, but you know they’re so worth it that you would be willing to kill for them?”

Logan, about to spit out an impulsive reply, paused, momentarily speechless. As clearly as if they were sitting on the edge of the couch next to him, his best friend from childhood filled his mind. Virgil, who never believed their worth no matter how many times Logan and their soulmate Remus told them so.

Janus saw the pause and continued softly. “I’m not saying rule of law isn’t important. But the trouble with laws is they’re only as tailored as legislators make them. And they’re human, and therefore fallible. We need exceptions, for those situations that they didn’t imagine.”

Logan struggled for moment, then replied, just as quietly, “You’re right.”

Janus’ mouth fell open in shock, but just as he did, the tv’s faint blue glow throughout the room was washed over with two beacons in blue and gold, blazing from their backs.

At the sight, Logan’s face went from contemplative and open to stony. He stood abruptly and stalked off into his room. The door closed behind him with a decisive click, and Janus was left staring at the wood in confusion and anger.

⁂

“I just don’t get it!” Janus whisper-screamed into the phone. He was power walking through a nearby park, moving so fast he’d passed a skateboarder and a particularly leisurely biker. “Does he want to keep on glowing forever? What is his problem?!”

Patton made sympathetic noises in response, quite familiar with the sound of Janus in full rant mode. Roman was lying with his head in his lap, listening on speaker, so Patton was settled in to be as receptive to his friend’s complaints as he needed.

“I mean, we finally agreed on something, besides the fact that we want to get this fucking resolved, and then he just, what, shuts me out? Literally and figuratively? I literally can’t even catch him leaving to the kitchen for food now!”

Patton winced. “Not since? But it’s been two days!”

“Two and a half, yeah,” Janus replied. His voice suddenly sounded weary. “I can’t keep doing this. The trial’s going on without us anyway, I might as well just give it up and make sure I never have to argue against him again.”

At that, Roman sat bolt upright. “Janus, my dear esquire! You cannot abandon your quest! This is your soulmate!”

“Yeah, well. Maybe some soulmarks are broken. Or we just met at the wrong time. Maybe if we’d met in law school we would have been a team, but now it’s too late.”

Janus sounded contemptuous, but Patton could hear a distinct note of regret.

“Maybe...” he started, but trailed off, thinking.

“Maybe what, Pat?”

“Well, it’s just that I’ve heard of soulmates who, you know, take an abnormally long time to bond, or manage to un-bond after years together, but they can fix it. Do you remember my old roommate?”

Janus wrinkled his nose. “Patton, are you suggesting couple’s therapy? I’m fairly certain that only applies to couples.”

“Well, you’ve kinda been forced to be one, right? At least to figure out bonding? They could probably help, or at least let you know if it’s not worth the effort.”

Janus sighed. “No, you’re right, it’s a good idea. I just have no idea how I’ll get Finch to go along with it.”

“Might I make a suggestion?” Roman asked politely. 

“Sure.”

“Perhaps try calling him ‘Logan.’”

Janus rolled his eyes. “Worth a shot, I guess. Love you both.”

“Love you Jan!”

“Best of luck with the love of your soul!”

 Back in the apartment, Logan was pacing in precise squares in his bedroom. He half-expected the rug to be worn down by the repeated impact at this point. 

“L, I don’t know what to tell you, buddy,” the gravely voice on the phone said. “You really have only two options here: find a way to avoid him forever, which will probably involve having to turn down cases you’d like-“

“I bet he’d stay on them just to force me off,” Logan interrupted, growling. 

“That is a possibility,” Virgil replied, their voice overly patient. “The other option, though, is to work this out,” they continued. 

Logan scoffed.

“Lo, that doesn’t mean you’ve gotta turn into a Hallmark movie! But it’s clear this isn’t just going away, and it’s not like you’ve got nothing in common.”

Logan groaned. “Virge, I don’t-“

“I know, man. I know. But you can’t just hide in your room until he just decides to move out, which means you’re gonna have to talk to him at some point.”

Logan didn’t reply, just continued pacing. 

“You know I’m right, Lo,” Virgil said patiently. “You don’t have to say it, just promise me you’re not going to keep being a hermit, okay?”

Logan sighed. “I promise.”

“There we go. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

About to hang up, Logan heard a voice in the background and Virgil asked him to wait.  Then, “Reme wants to say hi.”

Logan let out an exasperated sigh, but he was smiling. “Fine, I’ll allow it-“

“Loooogggyyyyy! How’s the soulmate boning going? Have you figured out that you’re a power bottom yet?”

“Hello, Remus. I take it you’re well.”

“Let’s just say I’m glad you’re my brother-in-law because I may have some need for a lawyer soon.”

Logan couldn’t conceal the grin from his voice as he replied, “As I know you know, I am not a defense attorney, nor would I ever be so unwise as to take you as a client.”

“Aww, you’re such a smart cookie! And by cookie I mean a snack, because mmmm-MMMm you’re a snacc!”

“Always glad to know I’m appreciated,” Logan replied drily. “Goodbye, Virgil. Goodbye, Remus.”

“See ya, L.”

“Byeeeeeeeeeee!”

⁂

When Janus returned, he was a bit taken aback to see Logan sitting in an armchair, reading. At the sound of the door, he looked up. 

“Ah, Alighieri. I- I wanted to apologize for my behavior.”

Janus paused. It was a good sign, but still so unexpected as to be unsettling.

Logan cleared his throat. “I shouldn’t have left you in a lurch. You did not cause this situation anymore than did I, and you have not been unkind. I have a suggestion for how we might move forward.”

Janus winced internally, thinking of another disastrous attempt at a movie or workspace. “I actually had a thought on that as well, but um. What was yours?”

Logan cleared his throat again. “Well, since we have been... brought into this situation together, but as a pair are struggling to adjust, it seems logical to consult with an expert, much as we would in our work. Therefore, we should consult a professional on personal relationships.”

“Oh, thank god,” muttered Janus. “Yeah, I was gonna suggest a couples counselor too. I think that would make sense. And I actually have a personal reference to a very experienced therapist.”

That settled, they found the earliest possible appointment, only two days later. 

“I do need to warn you-“ Janus said as they walked up to the office. It was their first time out of the apartment together, and it had been a very quiet walk over. “The methods of this therapist are- unorthodox. But they are highly acclaimed in their field.”

“Oh, are they an enby?” Logan asked. 

“Yes and no,” Janus replied. “You see, there’s two of them.”

“Two?”

“Yeah, they’re a couple therapist that is also a couple.”

“I don’t- well- I mean, that’s odd, right?”

Janus grinned. “Yeah, odd is a common word to describe them. But they’re highly praised and like I said, they were recommended personally.”

“Right,” Logan said, squaring his shoulders. “An open mind is helpful for effective therapy, after all.”

“That’s the spirit! I think,” Janus replied, holding the door open.

A gothy receptionist showed them to a private room with a comfortably large couch. Logan looked around in trepidation and slight alarm at the decorations. There were countless Funko-Pops, posters, stuffed animals, and an alarmingly high number of travel mugs from what looked like every single cartoon that had ever existed.

Janus was slightly more prepared then Logan, but he still jumped out of his skin by the sudden singing coming around the door. A deep voice was booming, “Duhhh duh-duh-duh-duh-da-DUH!” in a building crescendo that went on and on, until both lawyers were staring in a mixture of confusion and irritation.

Then a tall, lanky man slid in the door and lowered his glasses to wink at them both. “Hey babes. Welcome to therapy.” 

The singer followed him through the door, their bright pink hair a sharp contrast to their warm brown skin. “And thank you as always for the intro, honey!”

They smiled, big and toothy. “Welcome indeed! I’m Dr. Emile Picani, pronouns they/them, and this tall drink of coffee is my partner, Dr. Remy Picani, pronouns he/him! And you are Janus and Logan, correct?”

Logan looked a bit stunned still, so Janus took the lead. “Yes, I’m Janus Alighieri and this is Logan Finch, pronouns he/him for both. And I was referred by Patton Corwan-Augustus.” 

Emile smiled even bigger, if that were possible. “Oh Patty! Best roommate ever, I still miss his brownies. It’s lovely to meet you both!”

“Best roommate? What am I, chopped liver?” Remy asked, hand pressed to his chest. 

“Best friend, best coffee-maker, best of men and best of husbands,” Emile replied, and said husband immediately blushed.

Logan coughed politely. “Have you been married long?”

Remy smiled, still pink around the edges. “We’ve actually been married almost 10 years. The minute we graduated university, actually, when we knew our parents had not a shred left of financial control. We went through our PhDs together, which is why, of course, we’re qualified to help out other couples, because let me tell you, would not recommend.”

“Which brings us, of course, to you two!” Emile said brightly. “What is your goal in coming to therapy?”

Janus and Logan both began speaking at once.

“Well, it started in court-“

“It was completely unexpected, we’ve known each other for years-“

“-dreadfully embarrassing, not to mention the professional ramifications-“

“-it just feels like something’s missing-“

“-really want to just sort this out-“

“-just want to figure out the disconnect-“

“-and we can forget about the whole thing.”

“-want to make this work.”

They looked at each other, shocked, as their words both sank in.

Emile was tapping their Powerpuff Girls pencil topper steadily against their lips, eyes wide behind their pink-framed glasses. 

Remy, at their side, leaned back and took a long, loud slurp of his iced coffee, rattling the ice around until the room’s attention was on him. Then he looked up and said, “Hoooo-wheee.”

“So I’m getting a lot of differing goals here,” Emile said delicately. “Let’s start with you, Janus. Can you expand, please?”

Janus tried to speak, but felt like his voice had dropped into the cold pit that was suddenly his stomach. “I, um,” he started with a shaky breath. He barely noticed when Remy pushed a cup of ice water into his hand, but a sip steadied him somewhat.

“You can look just at me, if that helps,” Emile said softly. “Or at my buddy Kaa here.” They gestured to the stuffed snake on the shelf behind them. 

He looked like a fuzzy little Monty. That would do. 

“Thank you, Doctor,” Janus said, acknowledging the water from Remy. “So. We’ve been rival lawyers for years, because we’re both the best at what we do. It was shocking, to suddenly be glowing in open court, but I thought we just needed to find common ground that’s not arguing. That’s why I’m here, at least.”

“And Logan?” Emile asked, still in that kind voice. Logan wouldn’t meet their eyes, though, or anyone’s.

“I thought- we both seemed so upset by the news. Or at least, I was, and perceived you to be as well.” He didn’t look up as he addressed Janus, but his eyes shifted over and took root on Janus’ polished loafers. “My plan was to spend whatever time was needed to stop glowing, then get back to our respective lives.”

“Do either of you have a question you’d like to ask of one another?” Remy asked. “It can be as large or small scale as you’d like, serious or frivolous.”

Both men looked up at the lanky therapist, who’d actually removed his dark glasses, revealing slightly foggy-looking irises. “Logan, it looks like you have one.”

“Oh- yes. So, Alighieri- I mean, Janus. To be clear- you were not upset by the news?”

Janus took a breath. “I mean, I was shocked, and upset to be removed in the middle of a case. But not about the soulmate thing, specifically. And I have a question too?” He looked to the therapists, who both nodded.

Janus looked over, and saw the Logan was watching him in his periphery. “When you say you were upset about the news- was it about the soulmate thing, or about me as your soulmate?”

Logan actually sat up, looking shocked. “Oh, goodness gracious. Absolutely about the concept of ‘soulmate’ in general, not personal in any way. Did I-?”

“Well, yeah, a bit,” Janus said.

“I am- I am so sorry. I would have absolutely have been equally upset, no matter who I found to be an accidental soulmate.”

Janus felt his stomach unclench just a bit.

“Logan, what about soulmates in general upsets you?” Emile asked.

Logan’s mouth pressed into a thin line, and he stayed silent for a moment, then two. Finally, he said curtly, “I never asked for one. And no one asked if I wanted one, either.”

“No one asked if I wanted to be trans, and yet here I am,” Emile said with a cheeky grin. “We don’t always get a say over the circumstances of our birth.”

“But Emmy, you’ve found self-acceptance and happiness deriving from coming out,” Remy put in. “Logan, were you content with life before this reveal?”

Logan nodded. 

“So there was no sense of dysphoria prior, or absence of a euphoria that was gained since.” 

Again, Logan nodded.

“Couldn’t-“ Janus began. His throat felt a bit stuck. “Couldn’t there be something to be gained, though?”

Logan picked up a small figurine of Dexter from the table next to the couch, and fiddled with it in his lap as he spoke. “It’s not impossible, there could certainly be gains from a better acquaintance with you. But that’s not what a soulmate is supposed to be, is it? They’re supposed to complete you,” he said, his voice dripping in disdain. “Because you were incomplete before. Because you weren’t enough, alone, you were just waiting for the One. And of course, you can’t be trusted to find them yourself, some cosmic force determines it for you.”

Remy rested his hand in his hand, elbow propped on his knee. “Spill it, sis.”

Logan stared in confusion. 

Remy smiled. “It means, approximately, ‘continue, you’ve got something good to say’. I’m getting a lot here- but a lot of the frustration seems to be with the idea that forces you can’t control are messing with your life, is that fair?”

Logan shifted. “Well, yeah, but that makes me sound like a control freak.”

“Not at all,” Janus interrupted. “Of course you don’t want something incomprehensible to make decisions for you. That’s not controlling, that’s perfectly understandable and human!”

Logan managed a small smile in response.

Emile beamed. “I couldn’t have said it better myself!”

“But I am def gonna poke some holes in your thought bubble,” Remy said cheerfully. “Starting with this: what do you mean when you say a soulmate is intended to be The One?”

Logan stared in disbelief. “Come on. Really? Look at, I don’t know, any piece of media ever. Or at you two. Or at my- friend and his husband. Or any other pair of soulmates!”

Janus added, “I mean, that’s what’s intended, right? With the whole ‘marked from birth’ thing?”

Emile looked at them both very seriously. “Did you know that Remy isn’t The One for me?”

“But he’s your soulmate?” Janus gasped out.

Emile nodded gravely. “He is my soulmate. But he is not my only soulmate.”

“I was designated female at birth to very traditional parents. They wanted me to marry my soulmate at 18, like they had, and they assumed he’d be a man. But my other soulmate was a girl, and I loved her with all my heart. And when I realized I wasn’t a girl, I thought my parents might accept us more. I was wrong.” They took a breath. “We were separated. I don’t know what happened to her. But it was enough to know that my parents didn’t care about my happiness, soulmate or no.”

“I’m so sorry,” Logan said quietly, and Janus nodded, swallowing a lump in his throat. 

“I was lucky, though,” they continued. “I found Remy only two years later. And he accepted me as I am, both my gender and my other soulmate. And the cartoons, of course.”

“I never got to meet her,” Remy said. “So we will never know if she was my soulmate, too. I choose to believe she wasn’t. I think she could have been Emile’s one and only, had they been able to stay together. And that doesn’t make me feel any less lucky to be Emile’s husband, nor any less loved by them.”

“And not to shock you even more, but not all soulmates are romantic,” Emile said. “I know that’s the media portrayal- but well, the media is also pretty straight. And cis. And white. And neurotypical. And-”

“What they’re getting at,” Remy interrupted, “is that common portrayals miss a lot of the variety and complexity of humanity as a whole, let alone the complexity of relationships.”

Logan was sitting very still, and not speaking. Janus was trying to wrap his mind around this, and spoke with uncharacteristic uncertainty as he asked, “So- for instance, um, you could have soulmates who are, uh, queerplatonic partners?”

Logan’s head snapped up, staring at Janus with wide eyes.

Remy grinned. “Yes, of course! I was worried I was going to have to do a vocab lesson, but you both seem to know what that is.”

“But-“ Janus began, brows furrowing.

“But that means-“ Logan muttered to himself.

“Why isn’t he my soulmate?” Janus asked, at the same time Logan asked, “Why aren’t they my soulmate?”

Lit by the twin glows reflecting against the wall, the therapist couple exchanged a pregnant look. Emile reached out and took a hand of each patient. “I know this is a lot to process, but I really want you to keep something in mind: a soulmate is not the only way we can love someone. It’s not the ‘best’ way or only valid way to love someone. The same way the platonic love you clearly both hold for a significant person in your life is no less valid than romantic.”

Remy sat up straight. “I want you both to think about this when you go home. Your love for your QPPs is wonderful, and worth cherishing. And I know you are both lawyers, so here’s a question for you to brief. We cannot know the actual intent of whatever force gave you marks that respond to each other. So I want to you look for what evidence there might be, in each other, for your connection.”

Emile added on, “You have a link, and it’s worth exploring. It doesn’t have to ever be more important, more meaningful than another connection you have. But understanding it is critical to bonding successfully.”

“I think we should wrap there, for this week,” Remy added. “But you can talk about this, of course, without us.”

Janus and Logan nodded, and left. The walk home was as quiet as the walk there had been, but this time the air thrummed with thoughts and ponderings.

⁂

Janus and Logan made dinner with relatively little talk, only quiet asks to pass a spice or a cooking implement. It wasn't an uncomfortable quiet, but one where their minds were far too loud to vocalize just yet.

Janus quietly suggested putting on TV, and picked the game show network as a neutral, unobjectionable option.

They ate as they watched, still burdened with their own thoughts, but slowly started to murmur the correct questions under their breath before the Jeopardy contestants were able to.

Final Jeopardy, as luck would have it, was on Latin - but specifically, Latin as used in law. Both attorneys chuckled at the contestants' answers, some of which weren't even close to correct.

Janus directed a cautious smile in Logan's direction, and found it reciprocated. But as he saw that familiar glow start to reflect off the walls, he tensed, waiting for Logan flee once more.

For the first time, though, he didn't. His eyes widened as he took in the lights, but he didn't move to stand or leave.

"About today-" Logan began. "I don't know that I am quite ready to discuss it all, but I did want to once again apologize for my handling of this situation, and its emotional impact on you. It was entirely unintentional, but I regret causing you distress."

"Thank you," Janus replied softly. "And thank you for being willing and open to go to counseling. I learned a lot today, all of it important."

"I'd like to talk about it tomorrow, if you'd be willing," Logan added. "There are some additional details I need to share, but I don't think I'm able at the present moment."

"Sounds good," Janus nodded. "I'm going to turn in for the night. Sleep well."

"You as well."

But despite feeling tired, Janus found he wasn't at all sleepy. He ended up sitting up until the wee hours of the morning, stroking Monty gently and thinking a great deal.

⁂

The next morning, Janus woke up much earlier than his usual habit, but he needn't have worried - Logan was clearly waiting for him in the kitchen, sipping coffee and idly solving the entire Sunday crossword.

He looked up at the sound of Janus' door, and indicated the mostly-full coffee pot with a nod. Janus gratefully filled a mug for himself and lightened it thoroughly with cream, drinking deep as he stood angled so that he could offer critique and suggestions on the crossword.

"No, shush," Janus said, though Logan had not spoken. "It's gotta be White. Y'know, Betty? C'mon. Most-loved Gold? It's obvious."

Logan just smiled and penned in “White” in the horizontal boxes, immediately able to fill in the Down clues crossing them.

Once the puzzle was complete, Janus refilled his coffee and sat properly at the kitchen island. 

"So, if you're amenable-" Logan began. "I believe I'm prepared to discuss yesterday in more detail."

Janus nodded. "Did you want to start off?"

"Yes, I think I must. Because there was one detail that I wasn't quite prepared to share that I think will be quite helpful in securing a full understanding."

At Janus' encouraging nod, Logan closed his eyes to take a breath, and said, "The truth is, I'm an aromantic asexual. That's why the concept of a soulmate was so upsetting to me, particularly because up until this week I had assumed I didn't have one."

Janus looked down. "I'm ace, too, but not aro, and... yeah, same boat, mostly. I thought I wouldn't have one, but when we started to glow, I assumed it must be romantic. But that must not be the case."

Logan tented his fingers together. "So you're not aro, but you do have a QPP?"

"Yeah - I definitely can experience romantic attraction, but what I feel for Patton has always been stronger, and different."

"I'd like to hear about him, if you'd be willing," Logan said softly, and was rewarded by a smile that seemed about to glow as brightly as his soulmark on Janus' face.

"Oh, he's just the best," Janus gushed. "I met him at the perfect time in my life. I'd just been dumped by an asshole because he couldn't deal with the fact that the asexual part wasn't just me being a tease. I was feeling pretty low, post-college, all alone in a new apartment, and then this beam of sunshine turns out to be the kind of neighbor who brings cookies as a greeting. Even though I wasn't exactly receptive, he just kept coming back, even just to check up on me, and soon I found myself looking forward to it, and then inviting myself over in return."

Logan paused. "Wait, your ex broke up with you because you were ace? Was it a surprise?"

Janus rolled his eyes. "No, not in the least. I'd told him, and reminded him, and he'd just been assuming I would 'get over it,' the fucker. Right after the breakup, there were times I wondered if he was right, if I should have just powered through my repulsion to make him happy. But Patton was amazing about that, too. When he heard what happened - oh my goodness, he was so angry on my behalf, he looked like he was going to Hulk out. And then he made it his mission to make sure I was being validated in my identity and knew that I was eminently lovable both in spite of and because of my aceness."

Logan smiled. "That's wonderful. I can see why you love him so much."

Janus sighed happily. "And it hasn't changed even though he's met his allo soulmate. Roman knows that our bond isn't and will never be a threat to theirs, and he makes Pat so happy. They're planning their wedding right now, but they've already signed all the papers and it'll just be a party where they gush about each other in public."

Janus sat for a moment, basking in the glow of his affection for Patton, before he turned to Logan and asked, “You have a QPP too, right?”

“I do,” Logan said, a smile stretching across his face unconsciously. “Their name is Virgil. And they’re also married to their soulmate.”

“Tell me about them,” Janus said, when Logan fell silent. 

“They’re- they are just amazing. They’re my best friend, have been since about fourth grade. ” Logan’s eyes went a bit misty as he considered his childhood. “We bonded over being surrounded by idiots, after a debate simulation where we were on opposing sides.”

Janus smirked. “You mean I’m not your first? I’m heartbroken.”

Logan shot him a glare, but it had none of true anger’s heat.

“I guess we always had the feeling that we weren’t quite like everyone else. Besides the introverted tendencies, it wasn’t really a shock when they came out as nonbinary. They’d been online, discovering new terms, and in learning about their identity I ran into the aro and ace labels. I felt seen, do you know what I mean? And then Virgil just compounded that feeling by immediately understanding and accepting me. They call me a brother, just to explain that our relationship isn’t “just” friends.”

“What was it like when they met their soulmate?” Janus asked. 

“It wasn’t nearly as smooth as your experience seems to have been,” Logan admitted.

“Their husband is... unique. Prone to rather odd fixations and interests. But he’s also demisexual, and like us, had thought he wouldn’t have a soulmate. And part of his defense mechanism against that kind of rejection was, well. Embracing his off-putting side. Being disgusting for the sake of it. Grossing out others before they could judge him for his orientation.”

Janus grimaced. “I know that feeling, all too well. Donning a mask, so that a rejection won’t be of you, just your persona.”

“Exactly,” Logan said, nodding. “I don’t think it helped that both Virgil’s and Remus’ soulmarks were in their hair. They’d both dyed their hair many times over the years, but it wasn’t enough to hide it. And once they had shown up- there was no more pretending.”

“Was it hard for them?” Janus asked. 

“Accepting it was. But then they started actually talking and then it just- clicked. All those macabre interests that overlapped, the mutual obsession with MCR. They fell in love the minute they both let their walls down. And like you said- it never really changed what I had with Virge. They didn’t meet Reme until college, and didn’t get married until last year. So Virge told Reme that I was here to stay, and part of their life, and he accepted it without a blink. He’s a forensic archeologist now, to Virge’s forensic detective, so they’ve actually both been helpful in cases, too.”

“That’s... kind of adorable, in a weird way,” Janus said, scrunching his nose. 

Logan chuckled. “‘Adorable in a weird way’ is the best possible description for their relationship.”

Janus tapped his finger on the island. “That sounds so familiar, though, and I can’t quite place it.” He closed his eyes, murmuring under his breath. “Wait! Is Virgil’s husband an Augustus?”

“That was his surname, yes, though now it’s Angelico-“

“Oh my god!” Janus burst out. “That’s Patton’s brother-in-law!”

“What?”

“Roman Augustus! That’s his soulmate’s name! And he had a twin, but they had a falling out and haven’t been in contact for a couple of years. But he said he’d been in forensics!”

Logan blinked. “Well, it is certainly a small world. Not that Remus has ever talked about his brother, but I knew he had one.”

“That’s kind of crazy. What are the chances?” Janus asked, laughing. 

Logan looked pointedly over. “Do you really want to know? I could calculate them-“

“Thanks, calculator watch, but I’m good.”

They both chuckled quietly, sitting side by side at the kitchen island. 

“Hey, uh- thank you for trusting me, with the other day, and with this,” Janus said softly. 

“I owe you thanks as well,” Logan replied. “I don’t frequently have the opportunity to talk about Virgil in detail and it’s- it’s nice.”

Janus just beamed, returning the sentiment without words. 

In that moment, the sunlight of the room was tinged with colored light, gold and blue overlapping into rich emerald.

Logan hesitated, seeing it, but after a moment lifted his arm. Janus smiled and leaned in, accepting the offered side-hug.

“Hey Finch- I mean, Logan?”

“Yes Janus?”

“I may not be sure yet why we’re soulmates, but I’m definitely not disappointed that we are.”

A beat.

Then a soft murmur replied, “Neither am I.”

⁂

Later that afternoon, Logan returned from stocking up on more food to find Janus lying upside-down on the couch, lanky legs dangling over the back. His face was red enough to show that he’d been sitting there for a while as the blood rushed downward.

“I cannot imagine that is at all comfortable,” Logan commented drily, neatly putting away the packets of noodles and snacks he’d purchased.

“It helps me think,” Janus replied. “Especially when I’m trying to see something from another perspective.”

Logan’s eyes narrowed. “This better not have been a set-up just to make that terrible pun.”

Janus looked over, grinning. “It actually started that way, not gonna lie. I’d been venting to Patton about an oral argument simulation in law school and he suggested this as a joke. And then it actually helped.”

Logan huffed in what sounded suspiciously like a muffled laugh and came to sit more normally in a chair next to the couch. “So what is it that you’re trying to change your perception of so literally?”

“Our case, actually - Gomex.” At Logan’s quizzical look, he replied, “The partners aren’t letting me onto new cases until they know I’ll be back in person. I’m getting bored. So I thought, you know. Why not figure out what I was missing in this one.” He shrugged, an odd contortion for an inverted torso.

“You were missing something? But you won at trial.”

“And I was caught off-guard by your appeal - or at least, the part where it survived my motion to dismiss.”

Logan allowed himself a satisfied smirk. “Surprised you with my impeccable research, did I? All my rock-solid precedent pointing out the clear error in the original jury instruction?”

Janus’ legs kicked idly in the air. “Your research is always impeccable. Of course you were able to find precedent on-point for the general issue, you’re good at this. But the facts of the case are just so different that how could any of those past rulings be definitive?”

Logan leaned back in his chair, tapping the arm pensively. “Wait, so you really believe that? It wasn’t just a tactic to make Gomex feel like they’re getting their money’s worth for your legal fees?”

Janus finally righted himself, sitting upright with a leg balancing on the coffee table. “Well, yeah , of course I do. I don’t take the time and effort to go to trial for bullshit unless the client can’t be talked down from combat mode. Racking up charges for unnecessary trial prep is only fun when they don’t take my advice.” He looked quizzically at Logan. “So you really didn’t see the difference between Gomex and, what, Sourgoutsis?”

“No material difference, no. It’s in the right circuit, it’s recent and binding, and it established a test that clearly applies here.”

“But the test requires knowledge!”

“Knowing includes reckless disregard for the truth, and Gomex had that.”

“Oh, you can hardly say it’s reckless when all the claims were paid without issue for a decade!”

Logan leaned forward, counting off points on his fingers. “The guidance is updated each year. The commentary points out the changes. Gomex has to certify as a company that they accept all current guidance and direction. If they didn’t actually know they were submitting false claims, they should have known, and had a duty to know.”

Janus’ eyes were flashing, but more with excitement than anger. “But even the commentary didn’t clarify that these specific claims would no longer be accepted in the future. Doesn’t the agency have a duty to be clear about changes in accepted policy when the code is so vast and companies used past claims as standards for future approval?”

“But the companies are the experts in their own industries. They should know that these kind of differences are significant and material.”

Janus sat up fully straight, pointing enthusiastically. “That’s it!”

“What’s it?”

“I figured it out! It is a matter of perspective. But not the perspective of side versus side, like I was thinking. It’s time.”

Logan leaned in, leaning his elbows on his knees. “Expand, please.”

Janus nodded, mirroring Logan’s pose even as his hands remained free to gesture. “So you’re looking at this as: company knows their procedures best, they’re the ones making profit off it, so their duty to know details is higher than the public agency. Right?”

Logan nodded.

“Here’s where I’m coming from - it’s not a question of if this company knew or should have known this distinction, or even if this industry has the expertise that the agency lacks. It’s about what this case would do to the Sourgoutsis test for cases in the future. If the agency doesn’t have to clarify a policy change now, why would it ever? If it’s not enough that companies rely on a long history of approval here, when will it ever be? Do you follow, Logan?”

Logan linked his fingers, tapping the tips of his forefingers gently. “So your concern is about using a history of compliance as evidence of good faith?”

“Exactly, yes.”

“But Gomex knew that the change meant the compliant history was no longer relevant.”

“Only because they had insider knowledge of the change process. Not from the public information.”

“Wait, so you agree that Gomex knew?”

Janus grinned sheepishly, baring all his teeth. “Well, we’re both off the case now, so- yeah. They knew or should have known their claims would get rejected and banked on the agency not noticing for just long enough.”

Logan gasped. “But you still went into court and got the jury to agree with you that they didn’t!?”

Janus shrugged pragmatically. “It’s not about Gomex, it’s about the precedent this will set. I’d rather one bad actor get away with it now than have who-knows-how-many claims get screwed in the future for a good-faith misunderstanding.”

“Especially if that bad actor is paying you millions to help them get away with it?” Logan asked with an eyebrow raised.

Janus raised one of his own. “So you’d rather let a bad test become binding because the agency is paying you millions to get it set in stone?”

Logan, about to respond hotly, paused. “I suppose that’s a fair assessment. I didn’t think it was that bad a test until now - I assumed the insider knowledge would be baked into the standard.”

“You gotta think cynically, Mr. Finch,” Janus said with a chuckle. “Picture the worst-faith application and work backwards from there, cause you know it’ll end up happening.”

“Hmm,” Logan said with a quiet laugh. “When you’re right, you’re right.”

Janus fluttered his lashes. “The great Logan Finch thinks I’m right about something. My life’s goal is achieved.”

“Hey, I think you’re correct quite a lot!” Logan objected. “Infuriatingly precise and pedantic, sure, but ultimately right. There’s a reason my firm sends me against you - no one else wants to fight what’ll be a losing battle half the time.”

“Only half?”

“Even you must admit I’ve been correct on more than one occasion,” Logan said with a smile.

“That is true,” Janus admitted. “Knowing that you’re going to be the opposing counsel always makes me up my game.”

“The feeling’s mutual,” Logan said wryly. “I’d never admit it to the other partners, but you make me a better lawyer, Janus.”

The flattered glow of Janus’ grin was immediately dwarfed by two other, brighter bursts of light. Gold and blue pulsed from their backs in a flash, then settled into steady light. The colors lit the stylish room, blending to emerald as they pulsed in time with each man’s heartbeat. Logan looked at the glow reflected on the white couch cushions with wonder as he realized that Janus’ back  was no longer shining blue, but green. He caught his eyes and realized his own glow must have changed colors as well.

The lights pulsed more and more gently until they dimmed and went out, leaving Janus and Logan sitting across from one another just as the last of the sunlight fell below the horizon and the room went dark. 

The silence stretched for several moments, until Janus finally broke it with a bemused, “Huh.”

“So that was-”

“I think so.

“So now we’re-”

“Bonded, yeah. I think.”

“That would be a logical assumption.”

The silence returned, each man lost in his own thoughts. When they spoke again, it was at once.

“Maybe we should-”

“Perhaps we could still-”

“-make sure it’s permanent?

“-take a few days more?”

They shared a grin.

“A couple more days couldn’t hurt,” Janus said. “After all, it could be a fluke. We wouldn’t want to set a standard from a mere fluke.”

“Oh, of course not,” Logan responded with the same tone of amusement. “We want to confirm the integrity of the test.”

Janus stood to flick on a light, then turned as a thought occurred. 

“Wait, Logan - even once we go back, we won’t be able to be opposing counsel anymore. The soulmate code will still be applied, even though we’re not romantic or QP soulmates.”

Logan’s face fell for a moment, then lit up once more as he stood. “Well, we’ve got a couple days at least. I think the two best lawyers in the state might be able to argue that every precedent has an exception, don’t you, Mr. Alighieri?”

Janus’ smile mirrored Logan’s own as he replied, “Why yes, Mr. Finch, I think we might.”

[bangchanshehe]

The Boogeyman pt. 2

Summary: You were constantly having the same reoccurring dream over and over again and your friends told you that it meant nothing. But as your nights became more strange as days passed by you knew that it was more than a dream. much, much more. You tried every night to stop the bizarre dreams from occurring in the same sequence to try to find out more about who or what was controlling them. But when you came face to face with the demon in your dreams in real life, you realized that what he had been telling you all along was true. There is no escape.

??? X Reader

Word Count: 3k

The rest of your morning passed as usual. You made your coffee at 6:30 am sharp, you did your hair and makeup and got dressed and made your way to work. The only difference between your morning and other people’s mornings is that you had only slept for 6 hours. You sighed to yourself once you were parked in the work garage and checked your reflection in the rear view mirror.

Fucking eye bags. You cursed under your breath.

You could tell that physically the lack of sleep was starting to get to you. You no longer had naturally dewy, well rested skin. Your eye bags had grown exponentially, and your mood. Most of all… your mood had taken a turn for the worse.

In your precinct you were always known as the most serious investigator, but lately a few co-workers had added some extra vocabulary to your name. detective “bitch-face”, was your favorite as of yet. You gathered up your bag, threw your keys and phone inside and held onto your coffee cup with a death grip as you prepared yourself for another day of mind-numbing work.

You had barely clocked in and sat your things down at your desk when your boss called you into his office. You rolled your eyes and mentally shifted into your role as a well mannered subordinate, before you stalked off to his office. You knocked twice on his glass door before welcoming yourself in.

“you wanted to see me?” you asked him with a straight face although you knew what he was calling you into his office for

“yes, take a seat y/n” he commanded in an authoritative tone

You obliged him and tried to make yourself comfortable in the stiff chairs.

“I know that you are having some trouble in dealing with the suicide cases y/n.” he started and you let out a sigh “I think that we need to put this case to rest not only for our sake but also for the family’s sakes” he leaned forward at his desk and spoke softer to you “simply put there is nothing further to investigate, and there is no sign of foul play in either of these women’s cases.”

You knew that the correct and polite thing to do would be to agree with your boss, but you had a hunch that you couldn’t get rid of. And you knew that if it was you in those women’s shoes, that you would want for someone to try their best for you.

“all do respect sir, ill have to disagree” you started “I’ve spoken to the families and neither of them mention mental illness or indication of suicide. Their work life, social life and financial stability was solid. There was no reason for those women to have motivation to take their own life. I’ve already –“

“let me stop you right there” your boss interrupted you mid-sentence. “we don’t know for sure that these women weren’t suffering from any mental illness. We cant say that they didn’t commit suicide just because they were perfect on paper.” He shook his head in disagreement

“sir, I’ve spoken with the medical examiner and they say that there is no sign of natural death….” You gave him a stern look and he gave you one back “these women essentially just dropped dead. Nothing in their system, nothing wrong with their health. It doesn’t make any sense!”

“I want you to dismiss the case.” He said firmly

“if either of these women were your daughter or wife, would you want someone else to just dismiss the case sir?” you asked him

He paused for a long while giving you a pointed glare before finally looking down at his desk and back up at you again. “y/n, I am going to give you one more week to work on this case. Either you bring me more evidence that this was a homicide by that time, or we dismiss the case. Is that understood?” he asked you

“yes sir! I appreciate it sir!” you said with a small smile, happy that you had talked him into giving you some more time.

You walked out of his office with more motivation than ever to help these women and their families. You made your way back to your desk, unpacked your files and looked back over their cases, starting with the basics.

Looking over the autopsy results the women seemed to be perfectly healthy beings with nothing in their system other than an sleeping aid.

You didn’t find that the fact that they might need help with falling asleep strange, but if you were going to produce results by the end of the week you had to cross all of your t’s and dot all of your I’s. starting with a call to a medical examiner.

You picked up the phone and dialed the examiner less than hopeful to find anything of significance but unwilling for the case to be dropped without finding any further answers.  

“hello, this is examiner song speaking. How can I help you?” a friendly and familiar voice answered

“Hi, Mr. Song this is detective Y/N speaking. I have a few questions for you in regards to the double suicide case. Are you free right now?” you asked him as friendly as possible hoping it would gain you the favor

“oh! Sure ask away!” he said as chipper as ever

“I see from the report that both of the women were both using a sleeping aid and I was wondering if the dose that they had in their system was typical and if you had any other information on this medication?”

He hummed for a moment “the amount still left in the blood stream was pretty typical for a sleep medication, particularly if they had taken it that night. There doesn’t seem to be any signs of drug abuse or abnormalities. However, I don’t know too much about the medication other than its prescription and you have to have some serious sleep insomnia to get prescribed it.” he mentioned

You quickly scribbled down the name of the drug on a piece of paper and thanked the examiner before you hung up the phone. Looking back over the files for the women you quickly look up their family physician’s number only to find that the women both go to the same doctor.

You wrote the number down underneath the name of the medication and stuck in on your computer monitor. You highly doubted that it was a strong lead to pursue since doctor song said the levels look normal and decided to save it for later.

You restlessly looked over your notes and files calling anyone who you think would have any additional information on the women, before you finally noticed that it was close to 11.

You pulled out your phone and text your best friend who was a practicing therapist in your area. You had met her because of work and ever since then you were glued to each other. You smiled to yourself remembering how comfortable it was for the two of you when you had first met. It was like you had just met your best friend who you hadn’t seen for a while and had a ton to catch up on.

The entire reason that you were there to begin with was because you were injured on the job and was told to go as a part of probation until you were “better again”, which was short for do your required 3 appointments for an hour and you’ll be cleared to be back on the force again. But the two of you were so close that you met often after your standard three meetings. Only this time you often met at a bar, after business hours for the both of you.

Hey, want to get Mexican food for lunch around 12? You sent here knowing that she was done with her standard 10-11 appointment. You had looked away for only a moment before you had heard your phone vibrate.

ABSOLUTELY! I have the craziest story to tell you when I get there! Get ready!

You laughed quietly at her text. She always had some crazy story to tell you about her clients. Was it technically legal for her to do so? No, not really. But she was at least responsible to change the names and places in her stories so that at least identities were protected. Plus, since she worked strictly with more upscale clientele, she heard a lot of stories about wild affairs, extravagant parties and occasionally a celebrity gone bad.

You locked your phone and put it down on your desk hoping that within the next 45 minutes you’ll be on a better track then you currently were.

  “so you would never believe what happened today!” your friend started off excitedly from across the table, drink in hand “my typical 10 o’clock canceled on me today… whatever, no big deal. But come 9:50ish I get this message from the receptionist that a certain very attractive celebrity wanted to book a same day appointment with me if at all possible. So I’m all ‘hell yeah! Get his ass in here!’ and when he came into my room he told me this story about how he drunkenly married a woman from a foreign country, spent the next three amazing weeks with her in paradise and now she’s gone and he’s completely torn apart from it” she said like it was the wildest news she had ever heard

You stared at her from across the table wondering where she was going to go with her story. Unamused or impressed with what she was telling you

“and I mean like full blown ugly crying in my office over this girl. He pulled out his phone and showed me a picture after picture of her proclaiming that she was the most attractive woman he’d ever met. And eventually at the very end he said that he had received a message from her saying that she was pregnant with another man’s child and wanted to be with him to raise the baby” she stopped to take a breath “I mean the poor guy was really losing his marbles over this chick. But as he’s walking out of the building I literally see him eye fucking some chick and then without a word she just gets into his car and they drive off together to do god knows what!” she finally finished

You raised your eyebrows at her and gave her a look of disbelief. You wouldn’t have believed your ears if it weren’t for the fact that you had some of your own run ins with celebrities or word of celebrities in her office.

“that’s so crazy!” you said confused over such behavior.  “hey I have a question for you about a medication and I have no clue if you’ll actually know anything about it.” you said pulling out your sticky note with the name scribbled across the top

She leaned over to look at the name and immediately perked up. “oh yeah I prescribe that pretty often to patients who need help sleeping.” She said before looking up to you “why? Are you looking into a new sleep medication?”

You sighed and put the note away. “well I found it through a case and had never heard of it, so I figured I’d ask. Is it any good?” you asked her

She scoffed and giggled “it’s the best thing that anyone has invented since bread.” She said “fuck all of the older sleep medications. This one is the best. Plus… there’s a little more that goes into it than just getting the drug from a store. You take a questionnaire and they give you an at home test so they can create it to be designed more for what you need.”

Your eyes went wide and you sat back in your chair happy to hear about how good the medicine was. Whatever the price was you would be willing to pay for a decent night’s sleep again.

You pulled out your phone and googled the drug, and scheduling was much simpler than you thought, you made an appointment for 5:30 so you could go straight after work.

“thank you my sweet, sweet friend. I’ll see you later!” you said with a smile on your face shoving one last tortilla chip in your face before you ran to your car so you could get back to the office on time.

  The rest of the shift went by terribly slow and you were actually itching to get out of your chair come five o’clock. You had done literally everything that you could have to cover your basics with the case but everything seemed to run into a dead end.

You quickly packed up your belongings and raced out the door so you wouldn’t be late for your appointment. You were as giddy as a school girl to find something that might finally help you feel like a normal human being again. and as soon as you pulled up to the offices for the drug you smiled.

Utopia Inc. you read to yourself, before getting out of the car and walking towards the doors.

Once inside you were impressed with how comfortable and yet clean the offices were. You took a seat in a chair and began reading over the paperwork and questionnaire.

Are you getting more than 5 hours of rest? No.

Do you have trouble falling asleep? No.

Do you have trouble staying asleep? Yes.

On a scale of one to ten how would you rate your average nights rest? 4

Are you currently using any other sleep-inducing medications? No.

What is the average time that you sleep in one night? 4-5 hours

You sighed as you looked over the remaining questions. You couldn’t even remember the last time that you had a decent nights sleep and you were more than anxious to have that back. But the questions were a little dull. You were hoping that the questions would be a little more in depth than the traditional sleep surveys you’ve done in the past.

As you filled out the remaining few questions your name was called by a nurse and you quickly stood and approached her.

“please come this way miss Y/l/n” She said opening a door and walking down a long hallway full of doors. She stopped in front of a office and held the door open for you “ go ahead and have a seat, and the doctor will be ready in just a moment”

You thanked her and took a seat in the stiff looking chair. You read the posters on the walls and looked around the room while you waited, bored and nervous all at once.

Knock, knock.

Your head snapped up and a friendly looking man walked into the room.  He peaked his head into the room and gave you a warm smile before introducing himself.

“hi y/n! my name is Jongho and ill be taking care of your sleep test and diagnosis.” He held out his hand for you to shake and you accepted with a smile “I already looked over your questionnaire and it looks like you have some symptoms of severe sleep insomnia” he explained

“which I have some good news and some bad news with that. Unfortunately there is no cure for sleep insomnia, however after we run some sleep tests on you we can get an idea of what kind of medicine you need to regulate your sleeping patterns” he explained to you very calmly and coolly.

Knock, knock.

The two of you turned your head to see who the new intruder was in the room and you were surprised when you saw a very attractive man walk into the room with a bright smile. Jongho was surprised as well by the new guest in the room and looked back over to you with a smile only to give the man a curious glare.

“hello my name is Hongjoong!” the man said extending his hand “ill be assisting doctor choi”

“y/n” you said taking his hand

You couldn’t help but notice the strange way that the physician looked to the man before he looked back at you with an awkward smile. For some reason it made you feel unsettled

“right, so all you have to do is turn on this device and put it on your finger as you sleep for the next week and it will record all of the information that we need. From there once we look at the reports we will form a diagnosis and get you the perfect medication to help you out. Re-testing can occur at any time if you feel that the diagnosis was incorrect and you need a different medication. Any questions?” he asked you with a smile

You shook your head and jongho smiled back at you. He gave you a bag with the necessary equipment and a packet with questions and answers on insomnia. He scheduled an appointment for a week from now and you were completely ready to go home. He shook your hand one last time before you left the office and on your way out Hongjoong stopped you.

He handed you a business card and you accepted it.  it was simple with his name, email and phone number  on the card. “please don’t hesitate to reach out if you have any questions or difficulty during the tests”

You looked him over once more noticing how differently he was dressed compared to doctor Choi who was in a white medical gown and business casual clothes. He was wearing a suit that looked like it cost a fortune and he had the air around him like he was a man who didn’t work with people all day long. he seemed impatient, guarded and utterly too perfect.

you smiled at him once before leaving the long hallway and entering the reception area once more. happy like a child on Christmas you carried the box to your car and set it down carefully in the passenger seat as if it were a precious treasure. You looked back up at the building one last time before you pulled away and smiled. Hopefully this would be the answers to your prayers and help you start a happier and healthier chapter in your life.

[thebiasrekkers]

Shouldn’t Be- KNJ [Part 2]

For the @btswriterscorner​ - Amor Fabula Launch Project in celebration of the month of Valentine’s Day!

Plot: Kim Namjoon is a Doctor whose most challenging client ends up teaching him about how love could heal.

Rating: PG-13 // SFW

Genre: dystopian!au/dystopian themes | angst | romance/fluff

Pairing: Kim Namjoon x Female OC (Madeline)

Warnings: Strong language, mentions of conversion, violence

Links: FAQ || BTS Masterlist || Admin L’s AO3 || [ REQUESTS ARE OPEN ]

Word Count: 1,985

AN: This certainly was a challenge to build a world like this. It was a bit different than what I like to write (supernatural and fantasy) but I feel satisfied with it. I hope you guys like it as well! Comments, reviews and all around messages are always welcome!

© thebiasrekkers (Admin L). All rights reserved. Reposting/modifying our work is prohibited. Translations are not allowed. Plagiarism/stealing is not tolerated by any means. Legal action will be taken in instances of theft. 

Freckles. 

That was the main thing that he noticed when he bent down to examine the woman that had stumbled there that night. Namjoon had been working late into the night because he was on the verge of something that would be able to help provide a greater success rate for others. However, in that process--he’d pretty much ignored his social life and his new Match of 6 months. The man had shut himself away just to do it, much to her agitation. 

Now because of that, he was now staring at another woman who had been hurt. All week, he’d been seeing reports of the Rebel activity in the area but never thought that there would be some sort of demonstration or attack so close to him. It was something that he really hadn’t seen in person either, only by education and reports. That was the extent of his knowledge of violence and to see the results of it before him? It rattled him, to be honest. Human life was very precious to begin with, not even suicide was allowed in their lives because that one person could help produce more people. That was the very reason he worked so hard to help the population live, to expand and to rid themselves of their faults that had been passed down from generations ago. 

She trembled in his arms, after weakly beating at the door to get his attention. Her face was slowly losing its color and Namjoon’s mind went into overdrive. Each of them had the training to treat people but his specialty was in the genetics and reproduction area. Still, he was woefully under prepared to treat trauma like that where he was. 

“Miss? Miss? I need you to stay awake--focus on my voice.”

She murmured something that he couldn’t make out but he could tell that she was trying. Namjoon figured that she might have been caught in the crossfire with the authorities and the Rebels. He bent down and scooped her up, the need to get her to a better spot to be treated was becoming more apparent as he shook himself out of the daze he was in. Silently, he thanked Felicity for the fact that she wanted him to look better--of all things. 

“Miss? What is your name? ID number?! I need those for the ambulance.”

She started to claw at him but he held her close, worried that she would make her injuries worse. Finally, he was able to get to one of the rooms where he could properly take a look at her--noting the clothes that she had on as they looked like she had been cut with something. Shrapnel? Knives? Just as he was about to inject her with some painkillers, she grabbed at his arm and pleaded with him before he was able to administer it. Her voice was shaky but her grip was firm as her eyes told of an emotion that he hadn’t felt in such a long time.

“No please. No doctors, I’m so scared. Please don’t let them get me…”

“But I am a doctor, Miss and you need more treatment than what I can offer here!”

Tears started to leak out of her eyes and it took everything in him not to become like that himself. What was wrong with him? He’d dealt with a great many things but the pressure that was beginning to grip his chest? It concerned him just as much as her refusal for treatment did but that’s what he chalked it up to. No doctor would be lenient with a life in their hands those days. He had to do something to get her to relax enough for him to do something until the ambulance got there. 

He lowered the needle and grasped her hands, the ones around his forearm. Sighing again, he worried about the consequences of what he was about to do. He needed to help her but then again, what if she was a Rebel? Mentally shaking his head, Namjoon decided to take that out of the equation because he had a responsibility to help her--to help save a life. 

“Miss, I at least need to know your name and blood type if you need a transfusion….”

“Madeline.."

He nodded and against his better judgement, he started to treat her as best as he could without having to call anyone else out there. He could tell that she was determined to not have anything done to her unless he didn’t call anyone. The wounds, after cleaning and inspecting them, would have been bad had she not had any treatment at all. However, working with what he was just going to be good enough. He frowned as he worked, sewing up the places and gluing some together. She finally settled into a state where the drugs were kicking in and he was able to inspect her more closely. 

It was the freckles that caught his attention more, almost like he was connecting the dots on her skin. They reminded him of a constellation map of the sky--just like the ones he used to look at when he was younger. They reminded him of a time long ago when he wanted to fly in the sky and see what was really out there. His boyish imagination was quickly shut down with the System’s rating of him, placing him in the Medical Field. He had to tear his eyes from them as he resisted the urge to map them out. 

He reached over to tie her hair up and realized that her hair seemed to be one of the softest things he’d ever touched. It took everything that he had not to marvel in it, to run his fingers over the locks and spread them out to inspect them. His heart hammered in his chest as he got a better look, trying to see if there were any more wounds that he needed to attend to. His throat hurt from swallowing so harshly throughout the process but after stopping the bleeding, he could finally breathe just a bit easier--just like her. 

Her breath started to even out a bit more from the frantic panting, slowly starting to breathe deeper and easier. He had to thank whomever was up there that she was able to make it to someone that could treat her--even if it was a little bit. 

She wearily opened her eyes, the sparkle that had dimmed a bit but still was twinkling strong. He needed to get her some place safe, an area to rest until her injuries had healed. Her gaze stirred those strange feelings inside of him again, the ones that he’d been taught were dangerous and caused the literal Hell on Earth that they were experiencing now. The very reason why they had to live in colonies due to the wars and annihilation that their ancestors had caused. 

Looking at her, he had to wonder about why those were banned. Why they all were taught something different since basically birth and placed in the areas that they were currently in. He didn’t even look at Felicity that way and she was his wife. What was it about that connection that drew him in so? Namjoon had to figure it out, his curiosity starting to over take him. 

“Where else does it hurt?”

She sighed and struggled to speak due to the drugs in her system. He realized that it would soon be a trial to even keep her conscious so he shook his head, a little grin on his face appearing. He was being so stupid for asking, he realized. He reached up and placed a hand on her head, smoothing back some of the sweaty hair that had placed itself there. He then knew where he could take her to recover where he could easily keep an eye on her. But first, he had to get her there safe and sound. 

He was truly lucky that he and Felicity hadn’t moved in together yet, despite her insistence. Leaning over her again, he double checked what he had done and when he was satisfied--that was when he presented the idea to her. It was a bit silly to do so since she was slipping into delirium but the doctor would feel odd should he not tell her what he was doing. After all, they were going to be seeing each other quite often once he got her set up. 

It was damn near a miracle that he got Madeline to his home without anyone noticing what had happened. He even made it a point to let his co-workers know that he would be taking the next few weeks off due to personal issues. The authorities had descended on the lab and even made it a point to question everyone that worked there, himself included. Being the honest soul that he was, Namjoon told them everything that he could--only omitting the fact that he treated and kept a person in his own home. 

But now that the fervor had died down, he could concentrate more on his new patient. Madeline had been asleep for nearly 48 hours and that was starting to bother him. After the questioning, Namjoon had checked up on her in the spare room. Her light breathing calmed him down after bending over to check her pulse. His fingers found her wrist and he closed his eyes to help him focus on counting the beats. They were a lot stronger than they were before, when he had stitched her up and it gave him a little more hope about her recovery. 

It would still be a long one but that was why he decided to take that time off. Namjoon really couldn’t let her leave with all of that and as strange as it was for him, he needed to have her around to figure out what it was about their connection that drew him in so. Was it also a genetic thing, to want to touch and to feel the warmth radiating off the other? Was it something ingrained in them so deeply that they couldn’t engineer it out of themselves? 

“So, you like holding hands--don’t you?”

He snapped out of his thoughts to her voice, something that brought him back to the reality of the situation before him. He felt a bit silly for reacting that way but when she spoke finally, it was the timbre of it that nearly made him crawl in there with her to sleep. And he always had trouble sleeping too. 

“I--uh was checking your pulse. You’ve been out for nearly 48 hours but you’re safe!” He hastily added, the confidence ebbing away the longer he talked to her. “I took you back to my place so that way you could rest.”

She gave him a grateful smile and sighed, almost trying to turn over in the bed but he stopped her. Even the huff that escaped her lips made the corners of his mouth turn up in a smile. He shook his head at her and reminded her that she still had fresh stitches so she had to stay still. The unspoken communication between them was almost like they were yelling at each other, her eyes on something or if she sighed a certain way--he knew what she needed. He knew every time she was in pain because of the stitches or when she pulled some out by accident when she had a nightmare. 

Namjoon knew and she knew that his quiet soul yearned for something more. It practically was screaming out for someone to notice and there she was, quite literally falling into his lap. They started to have a little bit of peace while she healed--and that was something she didn’t ever think she would get again. But he made it possible as she healed, as they both healed. 

[glolovescats]

A story of me and my history. My experiences.

CW - trauma, sexual assault, mental health struggles (ADHD, BPD, OCPD, Depression, PTSD, Autism??), self harm, addiction, psychological abuse

.

.

I’m 27 years old, non binary, AFAB. I am the older middle child of 4, all of my siblings are brothers.

I’ve been diagnosed with ADHD, BPD (Borderline Personality Disorder), OCPD (Obsessive Compulsive Personality Disorder) and most recently PTSD.

My first psych evaluation was when I was 5 years old, and I have recently found the notes from that evaluation and they point to early onset BPD traits as well as ADHD.  Though it is stated repeatedly throughout the notes that they could not complete a full assessment because I refused to participate in any activity or or engage with anything that I deemed “too difficult” instead spending more time on the things that I was comfortable with such as painting.

My favourite lines from the assessment are as follows:

“If she is not motivated by an activity, she trends to wander off physically and mentally.  However if interested, she can concentrate for long periods of time.”

 “*Deadname* was a great talker and loved to tell stories on and off topic. She had a keen sense of her own capabilities and was often self-critical of her work stating ‘it does not look good.’ It was very difficult to change her mind and she appeared to want to be in control of the situation.”

I remember after this assessment being medicated for ADHD for a few months. My parents called them my “hyper pills” because if I was hyper it meant I probably hadn’t taken them..... yikes.

After those few months, for whatever reasons my parents took me off the medication.

I have had a very intense oral fixation since a very young age, biting my nails for as long as I remember and being a thumb-sucker, not just during sleep but during awake hours as well, until I was 9 years old.

When I was 11 I began self harming, as a way to release my emotional energy and tensions and soothe myself.

When I was 13 I told my mom about my self harming, at which point she sent me to a psychiatrist again. I was again diagnosed with ADHD and put on medication, which I remained on until my second year of college when I decided I didn’t want to be medicated anymore.  As a teen, I continued to self harm but hid it from my mom as she was very critical and cruel in her reactions to it.  Anytime I had emotional outbursts (which was, fairly often) I would be asked “have you taken your meds today!!?” as if that would solve everything going on.  I spent many hours curled up in a ball in my closet crying, sobbing, feeling like I was going to explode, then hurting myself to calm down.

When I left home for college, I developed anorexia. I stopped cutting myself, but began hitting myself repeatedly until bruises formed, then maintaining those bruises over long periods of time as a new form of self harm.  It was also in this time that my love of cannabis started to really form (I had enjoyed it as well as a teen, but in limited capacities as I lived with parents who I had to hide it from, and they were quite controlling over my social life and free time)

After 2 years of college, my first queer partner, whom I still feel very fondly for and maintain a very strong friendship with, noticed not only my eating disorder but also my self harm habit, and convinced me to seek help.  A few months later I went to my doctor and was diagnosed with Depression and Anxiety, and put back on medications.  I was 19 then, I am 27 now and still on that same medication, though the dose has varied throughout the years depending on my emotional state.

I went through some other relationships, some healthy, some less so.

I became more and more in love with cannabis. SPending what little money I had on it. “Borrowing” some from friends and lovers. Smoking when I woke up, in the afternoon, and before bed, sometimes throughout all hours of the day.

When I was 23 I fell in love with a man named Derek. It was the first cis man I had ever truly fallen in love with, and that love became... toxic. Obsessive. At the time I would have called it passionate but I know now that it was very unhealthy.  I put everything in my life aside for him. I risked pregnancy not because I wanted a child (I never have) but because I wanted to make sure he would never leave me.  This is also when my love of cannabis solidified into an addiction.  I was using it to cope with the pain of being so desperately in love with someone who, wasn’t very good at catering to my needs, to put it lightly. He was a dealer at the time, this was before it became legalized in Canada so dealers were still very much needed.  So I always had access to it, and for free or cheap.  We would wake up in the middle of the night and go smoke a couple bowls before heading back into bed. We smoked all day every day, it was what our relationship revolved around.  We would also take large amounts of MDMA on the weekends and go out dancing from midnight to 8 or 9am at the after hours clubs, then go home and smoke to ease the come down. This gave me a love for MDMA which is a terrible thing for someone with low serotonin to begin with.

Nearly two years into our relationship, my friends started to notice that I wasn’t being treated well, that I was always hurting, always longing for more from him, and always pushing aside my needs to accommodate him.  They begged me to leave him.  I was having breakdowns, even with my antidepressants. I was self harming again. I was having rage blackouts. I was hurting.  A few months later, he broke up with me.  I begged him not to. I promised I could be right for him. We just had to try. He didn’t want to try.

Now, 4 years later, I’m so glad he didn’t. Yes, my heart was shattered in that moment, yes it sent me on a spiral, but I see now how toxic the relationship was and he is not anything like the person I would want to be with for life.

At that time I was living in towns on the outskirts of Toronto, but his dumping me gave me the push I needed to move to into the city, which I did, y months later. March 15th 2017.  Moving to Toronto meant more freedom, more access to all the things that made me happy - a queer community, a polyam community *I discovered Polyamoury about 2 months after our breakup and realized how much I needed it*, more job opportunities, more diversity and acceptance.  It also meant higher rent, higher weed prices as I was now buying from dispensaries, higher transit costs and generally higher cost of living.  Some of my new friends were sex workers and it... appeared enticing for me.  however I didn’t feel close enough with these friends yet to ask details about safety, vetting, standards, etc.

Well, I decided to get into sex work for myself, without really knowing what i was getting into.  I’m not going to get into much detail here because my PTSD stems directly from these experiences and I don’t want to trigger myself right now.  But I spent 2 years working as a Sugar Baby and Full Service Sex Worker.  I did not have standards. I was driven by my need to maintain my weed habit - which was at least 2 grams/day - so on average about $600/month or more.  I didn’t take safety into mind more than letting my roommate know the given name and phone number of the person I was meeting up with.  This led to... a lot of fucked up situations. A lot of pain and trauma. I was constantly high, which allowed my to dissociate while these things were happening to me and suppress the memories quite quickly. By this time in my addiction, I was never NOT stoned.  On top of that I would occasionally take MDMA before or during a date to maintain a peppy mood and appearance.  On March 1st 2019, after realising that I wasn’t even making money off of all of it, I was driven far into debt by trying to maintain appearances and a lifestyle that i just couldn’t afford, and a realization that I was dissociating whenever I was being intimate with a client OR a friend or loved one... I decided to leave the industry. It’s been over a year now.

In the first year of my living in Toronto I saw a psychiatrist about my mental instability, my rage blackouts, my obsessiveness. I was diagnosed with BPD and put on a mood stabilizer, which I admit has helped a lot in terms of my heightened emotions and rage problems.

During those first 2 years in Toronto, I was also in a queer, polyam relationship with a person named Laurel.  At first i was drawn to their softness, their creativity, their ability to be vulnerable with me and others.  Eventually, that vulnerability became co dependance. They used me as a crutch, they took all of my emotional energy for themselves and never gave any in return.  While I was being traumatized, I was also supporting them through their mental health struggles and ignoring my own. They had a bad habit of disregarding and stomping all over my boundaries. even after we would discuss them and i would make compromises. I was being abused by this inherently toxic person (I say that, having many friends who have witnessed and felt the toxicity from this person as well). By April 2019 I was drained, I was traumatized, I was falling into a pit and being pushed down even further by the person who claimed to love me.  When I tried to set boundaries I was met with threats of suicide, manipulating me into staying with them longer.  But eventually I started to see through it and I just couldn’t anymore. I ended it. Which was met with a lot of cruelty and more manipulation to the point where eventually I had to just block them from every form of contact and move on.

Throughout the year after that, my weed habit maintained, and got even more intense, going up to closer to 3 grams/day and including concentrates and edibles as well.  I was always high. Always numb. I couldn’t remember anything. I couldn’t focus during conversations even if I was really interested in what we were talking about. I couldn’t stay awake, I would pass out while hanging out with friends, while on public transit, in movie theatres.. anywhere. I could hardly get out of bed in the mornings and when I did I would go straight for the bong.

I was constantly fatigued and I felt numb. I didn’t want to believe my precious cannabis could be doing this to me though, so I begged my doctor to refer me to a psych to discuss changing medications, assuming it was my meds giving me these side effects.  That psychiatrist diagnosed me with OCPD, saying that he believes this is what has always caused the depression and anxiety, and he also diagnosed me with CUD - Cannabis Use Disorder - essentially a fancy way of saying I’m an addict and my drug of choice is cannabis.  He told me that he would not touch my meds until I either drastically cut back my usage or stopped altogether.

I was devastated, I hated the idea of having to not smoke weed anymore. And I knew I would HAVE to stop altogether because my many many many attempts in the past to cut back were never successful. I knew then that I was an addict, just like my alcoholic father, my alcoholic and cocaine addict younger brother. I knew I had the gene too.

I discovered MA - Marijuana Anonymous, which is like AA  or NA but for stoners.  My dad had been sober for 11 years with the help of rehab and AA so I figured I would give it a shot.  I smoked my last bowl on February 29th, I went to my first meeting on March 1st.  I haven’t smoked or consumed any cannabis products since. It’s over 4 months now. I also made the conscious decision to be sober from alcohol as in the past my attempts at smoking less weed led to drinking more alcohol.  I know I need to fight my addiction as an entire entity, not just as one substance.

In the past 4 months I’ve been through a lot of ups and downs.  Not only with sobriety, but with the pandemic hitting Canada mid march, forcing me out of work and stuck at home, it’s had both positive and negative effects.  My first month of sobriety I was fairly manic, I wasn’t as hazy and groggy and fatigued, I had also just started taking Vyvanse - a stimulant - for my ADHD. So I was very motivated and I was cleaning and creating and doing all these things I could with my free time.  Then about a month and a half into it I started to get physically depressed - I say it that way because my mind felt ok. IO wasn’t having catastrophic thinking or suicidal ideation or desires to self harm - but I was feeling very avoidant and sleeping and napping so much more. Two months in, my memories that I had been suppressing with the constant high started to come through to my conscious. Sometimes they were childhood or teen memories, which I could mostly cope with.  But then came the memories from the sex work. The traumatic experiences. The shame that surrounds them.  I was having invasive thoughts. I would lay my head down to sleep and suddenly be in flashbacks.  I had known for a long time (about a year, since leaving the industry) that I was triggered into panic attacks by intimacy and touch, but I didn’t know exactly what was causing those panic attacks. I just knew that touch made me feel so unsafe.  Well, now I knew why. One night I called my sponsor, crying, stuck in a loop of flashbacks and memories and feeling like I couldn’t breathe.  And then the words just flowed out of me, I said “I think maybe I have PTSD”.  Luckily for me, I already had a follow up appointment with my psychiatrist scheduled for the next week. I told him everything that was happening, that I was remembering things but then getting stuck in flashbacks and shame and cycling thoughts. He then diagnosed me with PTSD. He suggested we go back up to a slightly higher dose of my antidepressant while maintaining my other medications (I’m still on the mood stabilizer and the stimulant) and urged me to find ongoing therapy. My sponsor had sent me a link to a group of psychotherapists who work on a low budget sliding scale, so I referred myself to them and within 48 hours had a free 50 minute consultation scheduled.

Where am I now?

Struggling with the invasive thoughts which make me feel depressed, but knowing where they stem from is helpful.  Awaiting my therapy consultation which is in a couple of days, hoping it’s a good match and that we can start speaking weekly or every other week depending on cost.

For a while now I’ve been trying to decipher whether I really do have ADHD< BPD and OCPD all blended together, or if I’m really autistic, because so many of my traits and symptoms overlap with autism.  I’m doing my research now on traits of autism and seeing where I identify.  I doubt I would ever get a diagnosis, as doctors would rather believe we have all these other disorders rather than autism (stigma), but to know where I feel I fit would be helpful.  I have some friends on the spectrum and I’ve reached out to them to discuss as well.  My youngest bother is autistic but he really fits the “autistic teen boy” stereotypes which I do not.  And I understand that autism can present very differently in different genders and different people.  Personally, I believe I may be Autistic and have PTSD. But I will continue to pursue ongoing therapy, as well as DBT therapy, to address my behaviours and see where I can learn to cope better.

I am probably the most single polyam person you could meet. I have no intention of dating, though I do have a couple crushes I intend to grow strong friendships with, until I have learned to cope with the PTSD and intimacy triggers. In a way it’s as if I am currently feeling asexual, because even the thought of kissing someone I like triggers me into a panic.  But I don’t believe that I will feel this way forever so I don’t use asexual as an identifier or label for myself.  I am not working, though still technically employed, my job is in the travel industry and we don’t expect to have enough meaningful work to return to until at least the fall.  When i do return to work I’ll be doing so remotely, as will most of the employees of our company. So I have less transit expenses, less time constraints, and more freedom to focus on myself and my personal development.  I’ve made this tumblr to explore and learn more about autism in adults. As well as to have something to do and distract myself with when i start to enter a depressive cycle.  SO this blog will be a mix of mental health and neuro-divergent info posts, along with cute animals, selfies, travel photos, and maybe a little shit posting - as a treat.

Welcome, and thank you for reading my story.  If you have any questions or relate to any of it and want to chat, my inbox is open.

[illyrianwingspans]

Do Not Go Gentle: Twenty Twelve

Link to song: Twenty Twelve by Matt Maeson (my babe)

Synopsis: Another dark and twisty bend in Feyre’s life.

TW: Mention of physical/emotional abuse, domestic abuse, self-harm and dark thoughts. If you're sensitive to these topics, please read with caution.

Ao3 Link

Chapter 12: Twenty Twelve

“You need to get off the couch.”

I dragged my eyes up to meet Lucien’s. (That movement alone was enough to tire me). He was staring at me, arms crossed, contempt making his muscles contract beneath his button down. I knew him being here was a sacrifice. Tamlin didn’t like him leaving the office. But he did so, most lunch times. I think it’d been Alis that sent him after me after she noticed I’d been docile for over two weeks now. The only fresh air I’d gotten was sips of it in the morning when I went to the balcony.

I never stayed long, though. Too tempting.

He’d cook for me and I wouldn’t eat it. He’d sit with me, talk into the open—it was fruitless, as I only had eyes for the TV, or for sleep. But he came every day, nonetheless.

“I’m tired.”

“Bullshit.” Lucien said, reaching his hand out for me to take it. “Get up.”

“I’m not in the mood, Lucien,” I meant to be forceful, but it sounded more like a defeated sigh than anything.

“Get up.”

“Lucien—”

“Get up,” he snapped, and my head finally whipped to meet his, a battle of wrath that had our gazes locked together.

“No,” I bit out. My chest heaved at the effort it took, the clenching of my teeth. “Stay out of this, Lucien.”

“I won’t stand idly by and watch you destroy yourself.”

Destroy myself. As if I had a say in any of this.

He must’ve seen the paradox of what he said, because his shoulders hunched and he said, “We both know how he can get. Everything is just getting too heated right now with Hybern—it’s taking a toll on him. On all of us. I’m trying to get him to let up.”

I stayed silent, unable to meet his gaze. Everything was always so focused on Tamlin—his stress, his business dealings, the pressure on him—and yet day in and day out, all I could picture him doing was sweet-talking clients, reading documents, making calls. Maybe it was my own selfishness that made me fail to see it, but I remained resentful, unable to respond to Lucien.

“Nothing will work, Lucien. I know him. You know him. I'm stuck.”

Trapped. I wanted to say trapped, because there may as well have been steel bars over the windows. But it was too blunt, too gory to equate my current lifestyle to a prisoner or a caged bird.

But that's exactly what it felt like.

“I'll talk to him,” he tried again, the hope draining from his face with each passing second.

“Don't stick your neck out just for me.”

“My loyalty is to Tamlin, Feyre,” Lucien said quietly, “but also to my friend.”

He left, and I burrowed deeper into the blankets, eyes closing from the burden of exhaustion a simple conversation now weighed down on me.

***

I didn’t know how I felt as Tamlin put his hand on my thigh, giving it a quick squeeze before we exited the car. New clothes always made my skin itch, and I fidgeted in the leather seat as the bright sun cast a glare in my eyes. A routine that’d been second nature to me felt as though I was walking in another person’s life. This morning, I’d brewed two coffees, one which I’d sipped and one that I’d packed in my bag, knowing that I’d definitely need all the caffeine I could get today.

And, the fact that I didn’t want to go back to that shop. I wouldn’t, couldn’t, go back into that shop. As it passed by in the lobby, I averted my eyes, refusing to relive the moment when the barrel of that gun pressed into my forehead.

We both waved to Alis on the way through reception. She took a double take as she saw me, clad in black pants and a checkered blazer, at Tamlin’s side on our way up to the last floor.

Lucien had pushed. He’d pushed, to his detriment, but Tamlin finally eased up. If I wouldn’t work in the coffee shop, and Tamlin wouldn’t allow me to go anywhere else, the best compromise would be to work with him.

Well, not exactly him. With Ianthe.

I wasn’t prepared emotionally nor physically with what today would involved. Not because I was exhausted—which I most definitely was—but because I hadn’t spoken directly to Ianthe in a month, since the wedding, and I liked it that way. Tamlin punched in the elevator code, the same one as our apartment, and I frowned.

“Did you change the codes at home yet?” I asked Tamlin. After Rhysand had waltzed in that day, I’d asked Tamlin to change them lest the dark-haired man would attempt to try again.

“Mhm,” he said, but his eyes were glued to his phone screen. I let out a silent sigh. Long day indeed.

As we got to the executive floor, Tamlin went directly to his office and gave me a kiss on the cheek before depositing me with Ianthe. She bade Tamlin a good morning, then her eyes turned to me. The look she gave me screamed that she was already frustrated, as though my presence alone were a burden.

“Alright, Feyre,” she said merrily. “Let me show you to your office.”

The elevator was two doored, so that Tamlin’s office was one wing and the board of directors and other chief officers were separate from him. This side of the wing was like a T, straight ahead being Tamlin’s office, a conference room to the left, and a very short, narrow hallway to the right. Ianthe diverged to the right and unlocked one of the creaky rooms, flicking the light switch with her long, brightly coloured fingernails.

“This is you,” she said brightly, though there was no way of making this situation any better: my ‘office’ was no more than a janitor’s closet. Long and narrow, with a small desk that barely fit a desktop a few files and a landline, with no windows. Beside the desk was a filing cabinet that Ianthe pulled open.

“In here are our old files that haven’t been digitized. For now you can start by entering these into our customer system and filing them with the information provided on the summary sheet stapled to the front.” She pulled one open and showed me the page, which was pretty standard. I nodded, and she pulled up the computer application for the filing data system they kept.

“That can probably keep you busy for a day or two, so we’ll start there for now. Lunch is at twelve,” and that was all before she sauntered out, closing the door loudly behind her.

I sighed, pressing my fingertips to my temples, staring back and forth between the files and the computer. This was going to be hell.

At least, I told myself as I began carefully, painstakingly reading the summary sheet, I’m not being gunned down.

***

It took me all week to finish all the files.

The words scrambled beneath my eyes, whether they be in the illegible hand-written notes or the glare of the computer screen. Every night I came home with a headache, and barely had time to force food down my mouth before I collapsed into bed. One night I woke up to pee and realized I hadn’t even taken off my work clothes.

From my desk, I could hear Tamlin and Ianthe chatting at her desk. Their laughter rang through my desolate office, making me cringe as I took another sip of my coffee, and tried to focus on the task before me. I thought it would be monotonous, repetitive, but each case and client had specificities that had me digging through the system—one I barely knew how to work—to ensure that I checked everything off. Names repeated themselves over and over again, and I always had to make sure that it wasn’t just a file I’d misplaced but actually already listed.

I think the worst part of it all was that this work wasn’t essential. They could’ve kept these files in the cabin for all they cared. They just wanted to give me something to do, like I felt important.

Every now and then, Tamlin would come and visit. For him, I’d put on a smile, pretend like this was the best idea we’d ever had, working together. I’d have lunch in his office with him if he wasn’t in a meeting.

One day he’d leaned over and kissed me, longingly, heatedly—it’d been a while since we’d been together like that. Every bone in my body was exhausted, but I’d kneeled before his chair. The day after, when Ianthe went to run an errand, he’d locked the door to his office and turned to me, eyes filled with lust. The wood felt cold against my cheek as he’d bent me over his desk.

In my office, though, the world felt obsolete. Every creak or flicker of shadow made me jump. One day, the lights flickered and I nearly broke into sobs. My chest tightened the moment I crossed the threshold, images of the trapped car filling my mind.

Friday night, we went home for the weekend, but Tamlin continued his work in his office. It left me back to my old patterns, holed up on the couch until I couldn’t tell the difference between the ends of my body and the beginnings of the plush leather.

Ianthe didn’t know what to give me the next week. She resorted to having me file through emails, which was more mind-numbing work of rifling through spam and sorting business inquiries. Whenever I got bored, though, I dug through the application. I had unrestricted access—Ianthe assumed Tamlin wouldn’t mind—so I read through current files. When my eyes fell onto a name, my heart jumped.

Hybern & Co.

Hesitantly, I looked over my shoulder to the door and went to slide the lock. Only I sighed as I realized that this was a fucking janitor’s closet, and the lock was on the outside.

Instead, I angled my chair to black the door’s way, and began skimming the file.

It was long. Pages and pages of notes, probably annotated by Tamlin, as well as deeds of sale, co-ownership declarations and contracts. None of the legal jargon language made sense. Nonetheless, I dug around through my measly desk until I found a portable hard drive, then saved the lengthy document.

I swallowed hard as I looked down at the USB key. It burned in my hand as I pulled it out of the computer and chucked it into the depths of my purse.

Just in case.

Ianthe’s laugh carried out through the short corridor, and I immediately exited the program and wiped my history. There could be no room for any doubts about me in either of their minds. Their laughter continued, and I creaked my door open amidst the raucous to see what was so goddamn hysterical as to disturb the entire floor.

As I approached Ianthe’s desk, their chuckles erupted once more. Ianthe said, “And then Jensyn looked to her and said—” Ianthe paused when she saw me, eyelash extensions batting together once. Smiling politely, she asked, “Is there something you needed?”

Mouth open in confusion, my eyes darted between her and Tamlin, who also seemed to think that I had a question.

My cheeks heated. It couldn’t have been any more clear that I’d intruded in on their conversation.

“Um, I just wanted to know if you want me to empty the junk file once I’m done sorting.”

“Of course, go ahead.” She said. Silence ensued once more as the three of us looked to one another. Without another word, I turned around and headed to my office, face and ears pounding with embarrassment. From behind my closed door, I could hear Tamlin’s laughter pick up once again.

Tears threatened to fall over. But they never came as I buried those feelings deep down inside me.

***

I sighed for what felt like the millionth time as I read through the file again. Sweat collected on my lower back, and I gulped down another sip of water. The room felt too hot. Too enclosed.

Ianthe had me working on filing current clients within the application, which was a completely different system than the older paper files. Every computation had me squinting my eyes, looking between the codes that Ianthe had scribbled for me which were a dozen numbers long and the ones that looked up at me on the screen. A dull throb sounded throughout my head, so bad that I had to close my eyes and look away from the screen.

Instead, I punched in the extension to Ianthe’s desk, and she picked up on the first ring. “Yes, Feyre?”

“Hi, uh sorry to bother you I just needed to know if you wanted me to sort by lot number or last name of the beneficiary.”

“Oh, lot number, definitely. And don’t forget to update all the deposit certificates if you see that a new payment’s been made.”

I swallowed hard, looking at the dozen or so files that I’d already ticked off the list she gave me. “Deposit certificates?”

“Yes, the receipts that clients get after they put a payment down on the property. If there was a new payment, come to my desk and look through the deposit cabinet and find the right one, scan it, then upload it to the file.”

“Oh, um, I think I might need help with that.”

Silence. Then, “Alright, just come up to the front desk and I’ll talk you through it.”

It took everything within me not to slam the phone down. Then everything within me not to break into sobs as Ianthe taught me the process, step by step—which was extremely, banally simple—as though I were an incompetent child who couldn’t do simple math. After a half hour, I finally got the hang of it and headed back to my office, not bothering to close the door behind me as I knew I’d be wandering in and out to scan the files.

She’d told me I should be able to finish the updates in a few days. Only a week later, I was still running back and forth between her desk and mine, still puzzled as I continued working out nooks and crannies of the filing software. The worst part, though, was that I could tell she was frustrated with me. She wasn’t even trying to hide her scowl of disappointment every time I interrupted her work, nor her sighs as I asked question after question.

Tamlin peaked through his office every now and then, all smiles and jokes as he saw the two of us working together. “My real wife and my work wife,” he’d say, and Ianthe would laugh. I didn’t have the energy to correct him. I didn’t have the energy, either, to tell him I wasn’t in the mood when we ate lunch together and his fingers ran too far up my thigh. He did the work anyways as he had me over his desk time after time.

As I walked back to my office and plopped down on my chair, still trying to fix my ruffled hair after he’d pulled on it a little too hard, I kept the door open, unable to stand the feeling of it enclosed on me anymore. Ianthe’s laughter carried through the floor once more, and I rolled my eyes as I listened in on their conversation.

“So you remember what I told you about Jensyn and Marcia? Well, anyway, the other day in the meeting, Marcia outright called him out in the meeting about denying her vacation days, and he looked her straight in the eye and told her that next time she calls in sick, she better delete her instagram pictures of her in the club the night before.”

Rich, booming laughter followed as Tamlin said, “I knew I hired that guy for a reason.”

There was more office talk that I tuned out while checking and emptying the junk mail before Ianthe dropped her voice an octave. With the door closed, I definitely wouldn’t have heard, but she may have been talking right to me as she said, “Tamlin, I need to talk to you about Feyre.”

Ice filled my limbs. My fingers paused, poised over the keyboard, waiting for his reply.

“What about her?” Tamlin wondered, voice equally low. I held my breath, ears straining.

“She’s slowing me down, Tam,” Ianthe said, and heat flooded my face. “I can’t keep doing this. Every five minutes she keeps asking questions I’ve answered dozens of times.”

My ears were hot with embarrassment, and I took deep, even breaths, trying not to break down then and there.

“I know,” Tamlin admitted quietly, “but there’s nothing else for her to do. She needs this.” Tamlin sighed. “Give her simpler things. Getting coffee and lunch, answering the phones.”

Not defending me. As always, putting his employee’s productivity, his company, before me.

I couldn’t listen to the rest of the conversation. I sat there, slouched in my chair, waiting for the tears to come. Waiting for the pain in my chest to leak throughout me, for the tears to pour down my cheeks.

But as I sat there, I realized, I couldn’t feel anything at all.

***

“Spring Corporations,” I answered dully. The person asked to be patched through to Tamlin, and I punched in his extension code, waiting until I heard my fiancees voice before setting the phone back in its holster. It was the second call I’d received all day. The first was Ianthe, teaching me how to answer and send the call to Tamlin’s extension.

Besides that I sorted through the emails. Ianthe had sent me to get her and Tamlin coffee as well, but I stared at her blankly when she told me her order from Hum’s. There was no way I was going into that shop for her. Ten minutes later, a pair of footsteps could be heard. I heard Alis’s voice wishing her a good day.

I was back to square one. Doing fuck-all, all day, mind wandering as I was stuck in the office chair. I felt like a child playing pretend to feel important. At this point, there was no point in me even being here anymore. The couch at home was definitely more comfortable, anyways.

The phone rang, snapping me away from my thoughts. I cleared my throat, picked up and said, “Spring Corporations.”

Silence. “Hello?” I demanded.

Then, “Feyre?”

All my muscles stiffened at the sound of that voice. That voice, and that face, the one I’d been blocking out of my memory and mind for the past month and a half. “Why are you calling Tamlin’s office, Rhys?”

“Why are you working in Tamlin’s office, Feyre?”

I rolled my eyes. “I’ll transfer you to Tamlin.”

“No, no Feyre wait.” Desperation had seized his voice, and it was enough to pause my fingers before they punched in Tamlin’s extension. “I need to talk to you. I found something this morning and I really just need you to listen to me. Please.”

“Didn’t you get the message when I blocked you? I don’t care anymore, Rhys,” I said, not caring that my voice was cold and unfeeling, not caring that all he wanted to do was help.

“Somebody hacked into your apartment's mainframe system today. They are trying to get to you and Tamlin, and they're very close.”

I blinked, once, twice, not understanding how the statement didn't jar me. “Do you know who it is?”

“No,” he said, and the way he said it made me know that it was killing him, “all I know is that you're in danger, Feyre. Real imminent danger. You need to protect yourself—”

Closing my eyes, the throb behind my forehead worsened as I drawled, “Why can't you just talk to Tamlin, Rhys? There's nothing I can do.”

“Just tell him yourself, Feyre,” he said like it was obvious, like telling my fiancee that I've been speaking to the man whom he told me never to see again wouldn't get me in a pile of steaming shit. “This is about your safety.”

“He won't believe me.”

“Leave him.”

Silence. Then cold, twisting fury in my gut. “Excuse me?”

“As a matter of fact, you're not safe anywhere near that man, Feyre. Leave him. Mor has a place you can stay at—”

“Are you fucking kidding me, Rhysand? Leave my fiancee? Leave my life?”

“At least you'll be less miserable than the way you're living in that prison.” My mouth was wide open, unable to answer. Rhys said frantically, his voice laced with pain, “It's killing you, Feyre. How can't you see that?”

“You don't know me, Rhys, and you sure as hell don't know what's good for me. Stop pretending like you have a say in any of this. I made your fucking coffee, that's it. So please, just—”

“Who the fuck are you talking to?”

The phone dropped from my hand.

Tamlin stood in the doorway, fists already clenched at his sides.

My fingers shook as they clenched the arms of my chair, pining my wrists down in his vice-like grip. His golden hair was hanging haphazardly around his face. He was a beast incarnate as the anger swelled within him, ready to explode.

“Tamlin,” I breathed. “I was just telling him to stop calling. He kept going on—”

“Why didn't you hang up?” he growled. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

I flinched. “Tamlin—”

“And to top it off,” he smiled, and ugly gut-clenching smile, “he's telling you to leave me? Is that how it is? You want to leave me, Feyre?”

“No, Tamlin, I love you,” my voice trembled. “It wasn't—it's not—”

From the phone dangling in my lap, faintly I could hear, “Feyre—”

Tamlin's eyes widened with flames of rage. One moment he was towering in the doorway, the next he reached over and tore the phone from my desk and threw it across the room, the sound of plastic splitting and scattering all over the ground filling the small space. I wasn't breathing as his hands then slammed down on the arms of my chair and he slammed it back against the wall, my head hitting the cold hard cement as the wheels creaked and groaned beneath me. Pain bloomed across my scalp, and a sob squeezed out of me as his nose was up against mine.

“I told you never to speak to him again,” he spat, “and still, after everything you don't listen to me.”

“Tamlin,” I sobbed, “I'm sorry.”

“Downstairs. Now. Lucien's driving you home.”

***

I pulled the hood of my coat over my head. I'm pretty sure it was bleeding.

My arms were covered in sleeves of bruises. I hadn't realized until the adrenaline left my body how forceful he'd been. The coat covered them at least—I couldn't bare any stares right now. Not in the midst of the chaos threatening to consume me whole.

When I passed Alis, her face was one of devastation as she took me in. I only walked faster, but not before she called out, “Feyre!”

Despite everything screaming to run, to get out of this place, I turned and faced the gentle, kind woman who'd been an integral part of my life for the last two years. Her brown skin stood stark against the collar of her white blouse, the sleeves of which she clutched as she took me in, her mouth tightening into a scowl.

“What did he do?” she wondered quietly. Everyone else in the lobby milled about, without a care, not witnessing or paying mind to the horror amongst them.

“It's nothing, Alis,” I said quietly, unable to meet her eyes.

She stared at me—I could feel her piercing gaze burning through me—then quickly scribbled a number down. “My personal cellphone number,” she explained, tearing the page off and placing it in my hand. “Call it for any reason, any need.”

I nodded numbly, slipping the paper into my purse, then headed for the building's main exit. Wading through the crowd of people, my mind kept flashing back to Tamlin towering over me and—

How powerless. How seemingly insignificant I'd become, both to him and to myself.

Because if I cared even a little about myself, why couldn't I leave him?

My frown deepened as I saw Lucien, gaze full of pain and empathy as he stood in front of the car, hands braced against the hood. Immediately, his arms wrapped around me, and I stood there, unable to react. He was all I had, him and Alis. My final lifelines. My sole friends.

I couldn't remember the last time Tamlin had held me like this. I couldn't remember the last time I'd felt loved. Not just told the words, not just promised a partnership, not just cohabiting the same living space, not just sex and niceties—but loved.

And yet, this was all I had. In a way, after all the stains I'd left on this world, maybe it was all I deserved.

In the car, we stayed silent. The elevator as well. I left for my room and changed into something more comfortable, checked my head to see the damage—I had been bleeding, but it was dry now, and easily covered by pulling my hair back in a ponytail.

It was only finally when we both sat on the couch, facing the silent, blank TV did Lucien say anything. In those moments of silence before he opened his mouth, I could feel my heart beating, slowly, lethargically, as though it had given up as well.

“You have to understand, Feyre,” Lucien said quietly, “the amount of stress he's under.”

My eyes closed. This was it.

There comes a point during a relapse, I realized, a breaking point. One when the obstacles become insurmountable, when hope within fingertips' reach disappears from view, when the little light left in your dark, fucked up world extinguishes completely.

As Lucien kept explaining how Tamlin was going through a phase, a rough patch, that things would eventually ease off and get better, I broke. The parts of me I'd tried to hold together for so long cleaved apart. I could feel myself exiting my body. I was disappearing before my very eyes, and there was nothing left to stop it.

“Aren’t you going to say anything?”

I hadn’t realized he’d finished speaking and a long pause of quiet stretched between us. Distantly, I shook my head. “Just go.”

His face fell. “Feyre—”

“I need to be alone right now. I need some silence, and I need space to breathe, and I need you to leave.” I was completely calm. There was nothing else within me to draw from, no anger or rage, no resentment, no sadness. Nothing.

Reluctantly, he pressed up off the couch and I heard the chime of the elevator and his heavy footsteps, signalling that he was on his way down and I was finally by myself.

I didn’t remember how it went.

It was a while after Lucien left, when I finally got the meagre strength and energy to get off the couch and wander to the ensuite where the bathtub awaited. A short time later when the water filled up to the brim, I shed my clothes and sank into the waters.

But not before pulling open the last drawer on the right, the one with my brushes and hairdryer, where at the very back lay a rectangular brown box. One I hadn’t opened in two years.

I remembered my fingers shaking. Clutching it for dear life. Sinking into the warm waters.

Drawing the first cut, not caring that the past scarred ones lay beneath them, screaming at me to put the box cutter down.

Everything after that was a blur. The water drained. I towelled myself down and put on some loose pants. Tamlin came home, released his wrath—another angry welt on my ribs, a glass shattering against the wall, shards that cut my hands as I picked them up, more words disgust and mistrust thrown my way.

But I didn’t care. I didn’t have the will to care anymore.

***

I almost stayed home. It was so tempting to lie in bed, to be alone, away from him. But I didn’t trust myself to stay sane in this cramped apartment for another day.

Tamlin kissed me deeply this morning as we were getting ready. It was full of remorse and apologies, I could tell by the way his fingers trailed gently down my cheek afterward as we stared at each other for a few long, quiet moments. I just hate that I flinched whenever his hands came near my face.

In the car, his hand sat on my thigh. Biting my lip, I screamed curse words in my head, bracing against the pain that licked up my thighs. They were a distraction, something I could focus on. The city was drenched with rain, and I wrapped my arms around myself, clad in a thin long-sleeve sweater. Cuts. Bruises. So many ugly parts of me I needed to cover up.

The day passed as usual. Upon arrival, Ianthe barely looked at me, probably from awkwardness and discomfort after hearing yesterday’s spat between Tamlin and I. Not that it mattered, really. I hold myself in my office as usual, sorted through the email, snooped around files. There was nothing else for me to do. Remnants of the landline still remained scattered across the floor. I didn’t have the energy to pick them up.

After lunch, I was scrolling through my nose when the elevator chimed. It wasn’t unusual—every now and then Tamlin had meetings with current or potential clients. But I had access to his schedule. He didn’t have an appointment at this time.

I wandered out into the hallway only to see a frantic Lucien shouting at Tamlin’s office door. Ianthe was standing behind the desk, mouth open in shock, and Tamlin finally appeared from his office, blonde hair slipping from where he had it tied at the nape of his neck. His eyes immediately found mine, and they were relieved when he saw I was fine.

“What’s going on?” I demanded Lucien with more force than I thought I had in me. “What is it?”

“Someone broke into your apartment. There’s a sniper reported in the area with eyes on your complex. The entire place is on lockdown and swarming with police.”

Rhys was right, was the first thought that clanged through me. The second was softer, fainter—fear. I hadn’t felt it in so long.

Lucien, exasperated, said, “We’ve gotta go now, Tam.” Tamlin nodded his head and ran back into his office to get his coat and keys.

“I’ll go with you,” Ianthe piped in.

Lucien reluctantly nodded then they both went for the elevator. I ran back to my office to fetch my purse and my phone, thinking this was definitely going to pre-occupy the rest of the day. Footsteps trudged down the hall until Tamlin was in the doorway, face hard and cold.

“Let’s go,” I said and made to walk out the door. Instead I walked right into his chest, which didn’t move as I tried to make my way around him. His broad frame blocked me in completely, and my brows furrowed.

“Tamlin, come on.”

“I need you to stay here.”

I blinked. His green eyes stared back into mine indifferently. “What?”

“You have to stay here. I can’t let you get hurt. Not again.”

“I’ll be fine. There’re police everywhere. They’re not going to let anyone hurt me. You won’t let anyone hurt me.”

“I thought that was the case before. But you keep nearly slipping away from me every time.” His hand reached out, just like this morning, and his fingers traced the side of my cheek. “I can’t lose you, Feyre. Stay where it’s safe. You can go in my office if you want.”

Contained. Confined. Caged. Safe. They were synonymous to him.

Trapped. Enclosed. Imprisoned. That’s how it felt, how the rest of my life would feel if I listened to this man for another minute.

“No.”

He turned for a moment, his feet ready to lead me to his office, and I took my opportunity to slip past him.

“Feyre—” he growled, hands frantically trying to grab onto me, but I tore away from his clutch and sprinted to the elevator. I needed to get out, I needed to get away, to run away—

The distance between the elevator and I closed, and I crashed into it, pressing the button repeatedly until the doors wrenched open. Gasping, I flung myself across the threshold—

He was stronger. Faster. He always was.

Hands gripped around my bruised wrist and I cried out as Tamlin pulled. Hard.

The ground slammed beneath me as I landed on my back, staring up at the doors that teased, open before me like a gateway to heaven. I dug my feet into the ground, trying with all my withered strength, all my might to resist. I screamed, struggling against him, trying to hit him with my other hand, but he grabbed that one just as quickly.

He dragged me back to the office. The carpet burned beneath me, and I shouted in pain as my thighs alit with the fire of the swollen cuts. Writhing and contorting were of no use, his grip was like iron as he let out a final grunt and I found myself back in my office. His hands dropped me and my head slammed into the floor once more. Stars scattered in my vision.

“Please,” I sobbed.

I felt him lean down in front of me and whisper, “I’m doing this for you. For us.”

He took two steps back, a dark shadow hovering in the dimming light of the doorway.

“Please.”

The door slammed shut behind him, with only the sound of a key and the lock sliding smoothly into place.

[fal-carrington]

Just The Two of Us Pt.3

Pairing: Kamilah x Mc x Adrian

(Part 1) (Part 2)

Tag list: @galaxyside-0 @zoe6111 @scarlet-letter-a0114 @gavryllo @loveshamelessly @thecleveridiot09 @whoinvitedalx @rudeassmonkey65 @rocket-scientist07 @zerozone-80 @bucket-harrington @ilovekamilahsayeed @jen825 @incorrectbloodboundquotes @soundtrackforlife @rubyheartjane @desiree-0816

Disclaimer: All the characters belongs to PB

Prompt: After the last night fighting against Gaius, before his fall, he puts his plan into execution, changing the lives of Adrian, Kamilah and Mia forever. Friendships may end, a heart may be broken and a new love may arise. In the end who will win the girl's heart? 

Thunder crept through the black skies, and heavy rain fell outside, leaving drops of water on the glass windows as the temperature outside fell more and more. Mia kept her eyes on the window watching the rain fall, her arms crossed trying to warm herself in her white wool sweater, she was in Kamilah's beautiful and elegant office at Ahmanet Financial. That night Kamilah had asked her to go to her office so that both could discuss an important issue, she had not said exactly what, but something in the back of the girl's mind said that her life would change even more. She sighed impatiently. She had already paced through the office, watched every item, every object carefully for the entire time she was there waiting for Kamilah. Eight months had passed since the blonde had moved to Kamilah's house. Living with Kamilah was a different experience than she had imagined. Both had different schedules, which means they hardly saw each other at home. Kamilah was never present, which look like Mia lived alone, at least two or three hours of the day Kamilah would return home to shower and change clothes and return to her company. Which gave Mia the impression that the vampire was avoiding her. Her cell phone vibrated at that moment, Mia took it out of her pocket and checked it out. A new message. Adrian. The girl felt her chest tighten at the sight of that name on the screen. Adrian... The love of her life. They hadn’t talk since their broke up. Whatever it was... She had to find out. "I miss you. Deeply. Every day.” She read the message. "...You are here. Great.” Mia heard Kamilah's voice behind her, closing the office door behind her. The girl blocked the cell phone and put it in her pocket, turning to the vampire queen. "Yeah... You called me. It seemed urgent.” The blonde bit her lips anxiously. Kamilah stood in front of the door, studying her silently. From the way she looked at her, it seemed to Mia that she knew... She knew Mia was hiding something. Kamilah nodded silently and went to her private bar. "Do you want something to drink?" Kamilah asked. "Whatever you have is fine for me." Mia replied trying to sound casual. Kamilah made the drinks silently. When she finished, she approached the girl and handed her a glass of whiskey. "I apologize for making you wait. I was at an important meeting." 

"It’s fine." She shook her head. Kamilah sat down on the black leather sofa, pensive. "Please, sit down." She gestured and Mia did, sitting a few inches away from Kamilah. "You must be wondering why I called you here tonight, which could be so important." Kamilah's eyes turned to the girl, warm, hot as fire. Mia could smell the perfume radiating from the CEO's suit.

"... It is true that we married in difficult circumstances for both of us. It was not something planned, it was not something any of us could have some kind of control over. It just happened.” Kamilah said quietly, as if she was looking for the right words to say. "I have to confess that the only time marriage arose in my mind was when I was still young and idealistic in my time in Egypt. But of course this never happened... until now. " "Uh, for me too. My mother always dreamed about my wedding day, I think she always imagined that I would end up marrying Connor, and... Well, it did not work out. My parents knew about Adrian, but... I told them we broke up. I did not mention the wedding, of course. I'm still trying to find a way to tell.” She scratched uncomfortable her neck. "I see," Kamilah said. Mia kept her green eyes glued to Kamilah, still trying to understand what the CEO was trying to say with all that. "What happened between us that night... It's forever. It brought consequences for both of us. You and I were married in a supernatural ceremony, and we will not be able to undo this, I thought of making things legal. So I talked to my lawyers and I decided to make things right." "What does that mean?" Mia asked confused. Kamilah reached into her jacket, pulling out a velvet box. Mia could see the Tiffany and Co's insignia in the box. She opened her mouth, speechless. "This... is what I think it is?" She stammered, pointing to the little box. "Lily told me how you always dreamed of winning a Tiffany's ring. So I bought this for you, I hope you like it.” She opened the box revealing a gorgeous ring with a large white diamond on it. "I want you to marry me at civil. A real marriage for both of us." Kamilah took a deep breath, looking into her eyes with an unexpected vulnerability in those brown eyes. "The ring is... The ring is beautiful," Mia said shocked. Yes, she had always dreamed of winning a Tiffany's ring, but she never thought it would ever come true. "I spent almost a century building this company. My image... It's very important to me, Mia. The media always see me as inaccessible, and at some point I would have to change some things. As the head of this company, my image is everything. If you agree to marry me, this will only benefit you. I can give you at least 5% a month so you can do whatever you want with that money.” "I do not want your money. I never wanted that, I told you that I want to work and be independent.” Mia shook her head and held the briefcase to her, Kamilah stopped raising her hand. "I never said it was what you wanted. If you are my wife, legally, you can have anything you want, protection, comfort, I can give you a much better health plan, you can have everything you ever wanted." Kamilah said "In the other hand... You will go to some dances, and charity parties with me, as well as other commitments."

"So, you want me to play the perfect wife as return?" Mia concluded.

"I'm not imprisoning you. You can get involved with anyone you want, as long as you are discreet about your affairs and it is not published in any newspaper or magazine. You are young. Look at this as a contract and we'll both be happy with this deal." 

Mia remained silent, pondering. The chances of her ever having a bit of affection on Kamilah's part were high, but there was nothing she could do. Both were already married and bonded, and staying away from Kamilah was not an option. Then, suddenly Adrian show up at the corner of her mind.

“But... What about Adrian?” She asked uncertain, Kamilah’s perfect brows furrowed, she changed her posture.

“What about him?”

“This will... This will kill him. Even more than the bounding cerimony we did.”

“I know, but there’s not another way for the both of us, we all know that.” Kamilah said contemplative.

“This will be a lot worse than that. That night we both were forced into that wedding, now we are doing this by our choice. We are making this official, the whole world is going to know that I’m your wife, not his. He’s going to think... He’s going to think—” Mia was unable to continue, Kamilah stared at her patiently.

“What he’s going to think?” Kamilah asked. “...That you have feelings for me? We both know it’s isn’t true.” Kamilah said. “Leave Adrian with me, but this... This is about you and me and our contract.” Kamilah took a deep breath.

“Can you stop talking about this like a negotiation? I’m not your client or one of your employees! I’m your blood wife”

“Mortals...” Kamilah cursed under her breath. “Adrian may have your heart, but I have your hand and that’s all that I need. What do you want, Mia?" Kamilah asked.

“Oh, god... I’m going to break his heart doing this.” Mia felt the hot tears streaming down her cheeks, she quickly wiped, trying to hide from Kamilah, but Kamilah was quick enough to notice. "I sign the papers, but I want something," Mia said finally, Kamilah sighed patiently.

"Which is?" Mia looked at those deep brown eyes, timidly.

"The only thing I want from you, to agree to do this, if it's all right for you, I'd really like to get your last name, because... I've never had the surname of someone who cares about me. I know you said that you don’t. But... You saved my life in that temple, and I know how much it cost you, and if it's enough for you to hate me for the rest of eternity, whatever, I do not want your money, your property, your last name is the only thing I need it.” Mia took courage and said those words staring at Kamilah, who in response seemed to have taken a punch in the face, she had actually caught the queen by surprise.

“As you wish.” Kamilah answered coolly back. 

Mia held out her hand to Kamilah, who stared at it at first, not understanding, but then sighed, rolling her eyes, taking the ring and putting the girl's left hand. "It's absolutely beautiful," Mia said looking at the ring. "Just like you," Kamilah replied, causing the girl to look at her.

And there Mia was at the city hall at the end of that afternoon, waiting for Kamilah to show up. Mia should know better than that. She struggled with the pros and cons of this situation, after all, she was already married to Kamilah, she just wanted to legalize things, after all Kamilah was a public figure, and had an image to watch over, that is, Kamilah was only thinking about her business, as always. Deep in her mind, came the image of Adrian and how much he was suffering from it all. Poor Adrian.

The city hall was crowded with people, Mia looked around the long line that stretched down the hall, waiting for Kamilah. The girl bit her lips, her fingers tracing a long pattern on the fabric of her white dress. She waited at the end of the line, watching couples of their own free will marry. Couples in love. Lily was there uneasy beside her, Mia obviously called her as her bridesmaid, Lily anxiously clapped the sole of her boot on the floor.

"I can not believe this is happening," Lily said with a smile. "You're really getting married, and this time it's not going to be a ceremony by an evil priest." Mia sighed, definitely her best friend was more anxious about this than she was. It was all Kamilah's idea. Mia could remember perfectly when Kamilah proposed this, a civil marriage. A real wedding in front of the judge. It was not exactly a romantic proposal for marriage, it was just another contract for Kamilah.

"Have you told your parents yet?" Lily asked.

"Uh, not really. I plan on telling them in person, I guess it's not the kind of thing you say on the phone,” Mia said. "Where is she?" She looked out the back door, waiting for Kamilah to appear.

"Do not worry, she'll show up. So... After today you are officially rich. Can I call you Mrs Sayeed?” Lily teased a smile from Mia's face.

"Kamilah's last name is the only thing I'm going to get out of all this mess," Mia said, remembering her past conversation with Kamilah.

"Anxious?" Lily asked.

"It's not exactly the wedding of my dreams, but rather a little. Do you think I'm doing the right thing?"

"She'll take care of you, love is a thing that builds up over time, Mia," Lily said. Mia shook her head.

"I'm not expecting Kamilah's love." Mia smiled shyly. Lily took hold of her hand, squeezing a little bit. Mia's attention was drawn to the city hall doors when Kamilah appeared, absurdly beautiful as ever, wearing a black suit and a blue social shirt, her hair and makeup always beyond perfection. There was something about Kamilah which intimidated her and attracted her at the same time. Kamilah walked to Mia and Lily with impeccable confidence attracting glances, she was talking to someone on the phone besides her was a woman in a impeccable suit.

"... Postpone my next meeting in forty minutes, I have an appointment now that requires my attention." Kamilah said for the woman, she hung up her cell phone and looked at Mia from above. "... You look very decent today." She praised her unexpectedly. Mia opened her mouth staring at the tall woman in front of her, speechless.

"Uh...Thank you? Who’s that?." She asked curious.

“Mia that’s my assistant Karen.” Kamilah did the introductions.

“Nice to meet you, Mrs Sayeed.” Karen gave Mia a handshake with a half smile.

“I’m not—” Mia opened her mouth to say something, she wasn’t used to be called like that and probably would never be. “...Nice to meet you too, Karen.” Kamilah gave a half smile.

"What are you doing in line?" Kamilah pointed at the staff.

"Waiting our turn," Mia replied as if it were obvious.

"Nonsense. Let's go. They're waiting for us.” Kamilah stepped out of the line and passed those people cutting the line.

"Kamilah, we can not cut the line!" Mia hurried to catch up. A man standing in front of the judge's office doors clasped Kamilah's hand with a smile on his face.

"We were waiting for your arrival, Mrs Sayeed. This way.” Mia and Lily exchanged glances as he guided them into the cabinet. They were greeted by a gray-haired old man wearing a black tunic, he smiled amiably and squeezed Kamilah's hand.

"How are you, Gilbert?" Kamilah smiled for the first time that day.

"Very well, I thank you for your generous contribution to our new forum pavilion, Kamilah."

"Just doing my duty."

"And is that lovely lady that I heard so much about it?" He squeezed Mia's hand, which smiled shyly in response. "She's really beautiful as you told me." Mia looked at her blankly. Kamilah scratched her throat.

"Can we start this? I have an important meeting in a few minutes."

"Sure, sure." Mia took her place in front of Kamilah, Kamilah reached out and took the girl's hands, at the same instant Mia felt the heat radiating from Kamilah, that electric current running through her body. The judge had already begun his speech about love and the duties of each couple. Kamilah's brown eyes studied her patiently, bottomless, drawing her ever closer. Mia ignored the treacherous thoughts that invaded her mind, she loved Adrian, only Adrian, but she was marrying Kamilah, it was no more than an act, a facade, having to play the CEO's perfect wife was her next mission and she hated every minute of it. As time passed, and they both listened to the judge's sermon, making their vows and promising things they would probably never do, Kamilah took a box from inside her jacket, Mia watched as she opened it and handed it to Lily as she picked up a pure gold ring .

"You bought rings," Mia said as she saw the ring in Kamilah's hand.

"Of course I bought it. Did you really think I was going to let you wear that horrible ring that Jameson arranged?” Kamilah took her hand from the old ring and replaced it with the new one. Mia did the same with her, putting the ring in Kamilah's hand, making the same promises she had made weeks ago.

"...You may now kiss the bride," the judge nodded to Kamilah. Mia waited for Kamilah to say it was not necessary, as she did the last time, but Kamilah surprised her as she took a step forward with her eyes still locked on Mia, touching the girl's cheek gently with her hand and lowering herself to the height of Mia to kiss her. Mia felt Kamilah's hot lips against hers, suddenly all that energy, that warmth, that attraction returned, she could feel how much Kamilah was holding on that kiss, standing on tiptoe and wrapping her arms around the neck of the CEO.

“YAY!” Lily screamed bursting confetti into the two, making them both look back to her.

"Lily! I told you not to do this here.” Mia called her attention.

"Sorry, sorry."

"All right, I'll get someone to clean it up," the judge said quietly. Mia smiled at him ungraciously. Kamilah stepped away before Mia could even protest, leaving a quick kiss on Mia's lips. Mia moistened her lips, still looking uncomfortably at her. Both signed the papers, after the bureaucracy they were dismissed. Mia followed Kamilah out of the room, who was cleaning her suit.

"I took so many pictures," Lily said excitedly looking at her cell phone as she walked them both out of the office.

"That was a lot faster than I thought," Kamilah said, adjusting her suit, her eyes on the marriage certificate.

"Yeah... quick," Mia said absently.

"How are you feeling?" Kamilah asked.

"I'm pretty sure you do not mind the answer," Mia replied, folding her arms, Kamilah rolled her eyes impatiently. "About our contract marriage? Well... It's confusing, strange, I don’t know, I—"

"...Since we arrived you keep insisting on complaining about everything, I've let things go faster, you in my point of view, you're earning as much as me with all of this," Kamilah said coldly.

"Uh, guys..." Lily called them.

"You're never satisfied with anything, you mortals are so selfish." Kamilah said trying to keep her voice down. Mia opened her mouth in revolt.

"Do not you dare start with that, Kamilah—" She pointed at the beautiful tall woman in front of her.

"Guys, I know you both love to fight, but who called those reporters?" Lily pointed to the glass doors, drawing their attention.

“I’m going to call the car.” Karen said.

"Oh, fuck," Mia said as she noticed the crowd of reporters crowding at the door. "What do we do? How did they know about us?!"

"This was supposed to be an intimate ceremony, clearly is not anymore." Kamilah said quietly. She brought her face closer to Mia's, giving her a wry smile. "Better get used to the attention, Mrs Sayeed, because today it's from here to worse."

Raines Corp

The elevator doors of Raines Corp opened, giving way to Kamilah, the vampire queen entered gracefully, being received by the new secretary of Adrian.

"Hey... Can I help?" The new girl asked, stammering as she got a cool look from the CEO, who walked into the boardroom where the Council met that night.

"I apologize for my delay," she said as she sat down to her usual seat. All the council members were already there.

“Nonsense, we were just waiting for our majesty coming back from her wedding.” Adrian answered angry.

“He knows.” Kamilah thought to herself.

"Look who it is, if not the newest bride." Priya gave a mischievous laugh, resting her elbows on the table. "How was the wedding? Tell me, does Mia is a good kisser? Oh, I suppose I should ask Adrian that too, don’t I? They both know the answer."

"Congratulations Kamilah, she's a catch." Lester smiled at her, receiving a angrily glance from Kamilah.

"That's enough," Adrian said, standing up and adjusting his suit. "I believe we have more important issues to discuss."

"Yes, such as how Kamilah's honeymoon is going to be," Priya pointed out. "It's okay to be jealous of Mia, Adrian, I’m as well. You were not the only one who wanted Mia just for you. "

"Shut your mouth before I cut your throat," Kamilah muttered.

"I can not believe I left Brooklyn to hear three bitter children quarreling." The Baron cursed.

"Right, right." Jax stood and stood beside Adrian. "I believe we have things more important than Kamilah's marriage to be discussed, for example, how we are going to distribute the clans to end the hordes of ferals in the city."

And there was three hours of discussion and no progress. When all the council members left the room, there remained only Adrian and Kamilah, who sat at the table, Adrian with his eyes on the glass, without looking at her.

"Adrian..." Kamilah started to speak, but was interrupted by he.

"How can you?" He raised his eyes, revealing a pained expression on his face, Kamilah opened her mouth to answer, but she could not. "How can you betray me like this? You. You are my best friend and sister. After all these years—"

"I had no other choice," Kamilah said.

"WE ALL HAVE A CHOICE!" He shouted, raising his voice. Kamilah remained calm looking at him. "You chose to marry her behind my back, and now the whole world knows, the whole world knows that she belongs to you."

"Oh, please. We were already married, I just legalized what was already done. You and I both know that there is no love in this marriage. I do not love her and she does not love me, we are not even sleeping in the same bed, I spend most of the week in my company."

"What's the story?"

"I met her at a business meeting, I called her for a drink weeks later. We fell in love, and we started dating in a few months, we married at an intimate ceremony in New York. The media loves these things."

“You did not even bother giving her a perfect marriage.” Adrian said disgusted.

"No, but I minded giving her a home, a better life," Kamilah replied. “What happens inside that house is my and her business, Adrian." Kamilah said.

"What did you offer her to accept that?" He asked standing up.

"All she could ever want."

"Except love," Adrian said coldly.

"She just asked for one thing, Adrian. And I gave her what she asked for."

"What?!"

"My last name." Adrian's eyebrows furrowed, and his look of anger shifted to hurt in a matter of seconds.

"Then that's it? A marriage of appearances? How do you think she'll live with that, Kamilah? This is not life for her, You can live on a facade, but Mia will not, keep that in mind Kamilah. You stolen my one true chance of redemption and married her, I will never forgive you for this and neither do she.”

“I can live with her hatred.” Kamilah said coldly.

Ahmanet Financial

It was an intense night at Kamilah's company, the CEO had just left a complicated business meeting with a Korean company, she had to use extreme methods to get a deal closed, and there was another one within the next hour. Her fight with Adrian had given her so much to think, deep down she felt horrible in all this situation, her disgust for Gaius had grown even more, if it was still possible. Kamilah sighed as she leaned back in her chair, checking the last reports she had received. The queen just wanted peace. A minute of peace and silence. She had even asked Karen not to let anyone bother her in her office.

When in that moment of peace was interrupted by the doors of the office bursting open, giving way for a rebellious Mia, followed by Karen.

"Kamilah!" That little blond creature with green eyes radiating fury, stared at the CEO as if ready to leap on her neck.

"I'm sorry, Mrs Sayeed, I tried to stop her." Karen tried to apologize in vain. Kamilah held up a hand to silence her.

"It's okay, Karen. Can you leave me alone with my wife, please?” Karen nodded as she walked out of her office as soon as she entered.

"You and I have something serious to discuss." Mia pointed at her angrily.

"Well, it should be for you to come into my office like you were at your house," Kamilah said patiently, taking a deep breath to keep calm.

"Oh, I have a good reason." Mia took the control of Kamilah's desk and turned on the plasma tv glued to the wall. "Us." She passed through channels and they all had a picture of Kamilah and Mia with the media popping out saying about how the dreamy CEO of The United States had married a young girl. "I got a heated call from my parents, they saw the news, they were so fucking angry with me, how could I marry so young and not tell anyone, not invite anyone from my family! My mother almost killed me on the phone! And my Nana... Oh my nana, when she finds out she will be so upset” Mia paced back and forth, running her hand through her blond hair, nervously.

"Oh, that's what this is about." Kamilah closed her notebook, not caring.

"Kamilah, that's very serious!" Mia stopped to approach the CEO's desk. "They're pissed as hell! I have to fix it! "

"Yes, you do. In the meantime try to avoid going into my office like that." Mia stopped in her tracks to look at Kamilah.

"What? You’re not taking the subject of family seriously?" Mia laughed.

"Did I say something funny?" Kamilah frowned. "Deal with this Mia." Kamilah shrugged, unbothered.

"No, you and I are going to solve this. We're in this together now.” The girl leaned her hands on the CEO's desk.

"Mia, they're your responsibility." Kamilah took a long breath. "I will not take sides to settle a fight between mortals."

"No, now you listen to me. You're not going to threw this on me, this I will not solve on my own. You agreed to that, you agreed to marry me. By the time you agreed to that, you became part of this family too, they are our family.” Kamilah opened her mouth to argue, but Mia interrupted her. "And I do not want to hear you say you do not mind, because from now on you and I are going to do it, whether you want it or not." She stared into Kamilah's deep brown eyes, which were returned by a cautious look from the CEO.

"Mia O'Connell Sayeed, are you challenging me?" Kamilah sat up in her chair resting both hands on her desk, her face inches from Mia's.

"Yes. I am,” Mia confronted her back.

"A bold choice, many people who chose this did not survive." Kamilah said between her teeth.

"Let's see then." Mia stood up, not taking her eyes off Kamilah. "You'll meet my parents and my family, and this discussion is over." She said taking her coat and going to the doors of Kamilah's office, leaving her angry and alone.

A dangerous combination.

[paternosterlawgrp-blog]

6 MOST IMPORTANT FACTORS TO DETERMINE HOW MUCH YOUR SLIP AND FALL CASE IS WORTH

How much is a slip and fall lawsuit worth? This is a question I hear often, but it isn’t a one size fits all answer. The fact is every case is different and every person is different, so there is not a universal answer. Fear not, though, because every case does have a number, and it is predicated on some very serious issues.

To determine what your skip and fall case is worth, the amount you will get at the end of the case, lets determine what factors we have to look at to decide what the outcome will be.

What is a Slip and Fall?

A Slip and Fall accident actually refer to several different types of accidents. One can literally slip and fall. If someone spills some liquid at the supermarket or big box store, for example, and the liquid causes you to slip, it’s a classic slip and fall.

You can also trip and fall. If you were walking through a Las Vegas casino and the carpet on the floor has been inadequately tacked down, or if there were some obstruction in your way that caused you to trip, this would be a trip and fall.

There is also an accident known as a Step and Fall. In Las Vegas, where you often have to walk vast distances to get from one hotel to another, we often see step and fall accidents here. Parking lots that have potholes where you can take a misstep or a broken piece of tile which just catches you the wrong way are step and fall injuries.

All of these accidents fall under slip and fall law.

What is Premises Liability Law?

Slip and fall accidents are a category of premises liability law. Business property owners, under Nevada law, have a duty of care to their customers and to the public. They are responsible for ensuring their businesses are safe. There should be no areas where members of the public could be harmed through no fault of their own.

Property owners must maintain their premises in a safe condition. In a store, for example, there should be no fallen objects on the floor or spilled liquid. In a hotel or casino, there should be no lumps in carpet that anyone could trip over. In rental properties, spaces should be well-maintained. There should be no low places where someone could trip on a sidewalk or holes or defective places in stairs where anyone could trip or slip.

Here in Las Vegas, we have some of the largest hotels and casinos in the world. Generally speaking, they maintain their properties very well. But problems do arise from time to time, and even they miss things. When this happens, they are in breach of the law because they didn’t take the best care in the public – your – safety. The breach in the duty of care means they were negligent in their duties as property owners.

It is the negligence that creates liability for an accident that occurs as a result of the breach of duty of care. If an owner can be proved negligent, and that negligence caused an accident which in turn caused you to be injured, you can bring a suit for a slip and fall under the law.

But what if the owner believes the premises are safe? After all, it is not unheard of for hotel owners, for example, to argue that their parking lots are completely safe, despite a large and uneven crack in it that makes tripping on it an inevitable outcome.

The law turns to a reasonable person standard in these cases. The premises can be deemed unsafe under the law if a reasonable person would believe them to be unsafe. Most reasonable people, for instance, could agree that a cracked and uneven surface of a parking lot can cause you to trip if you aren’t looking directly at it when walking.

What if the premises are safe, but some event or action occurs suddenly makes them unsafe? Couldn’t the owner say that they didn’t know the premises were unsafe because they didn’t check?

In that case, the law also turns to a reasonable person standard. A business owner is responsible for fixing and responding to events or actions that make the premises unsafe if a reasonable person knew or should have known they had become unsafe.

Part of the owner’s duty of care is to fix or remedy the situation within a reasonable period of time, as well. If someone spills something in a store, the manager or the employees should clean it up as soon as possible. They can’t wait a few hours, because the court are highly unlikely to consider that a reasonable period of time.

In addition, if a premises or location becomes unsafe, business and property owners should clearly mark the affected area as unsafe. They can place hazard tape, warning signs, or cones to alert anyone in the area that there is a danger and it is unsafe. Those signs you see in stores about a wet floor when they are mopping is to protect you and them.

Knowing this information, you are now ready to understand what the 6 most important factors to determining how much your slip and fall case is worth.

1)The Amount of the Full Damages

When you are injured by a slip and fall, the full damages you incur are a mix of things that need to be identified and valued. If you went to a doctor, the medical bills you have incurred (not simply what your insurance co-pay may have been) are part of the damages.

Beyond that, though, are the long term effects of the damage. If you are unable to work because of your injury, whether for a short period of time or a long term disability, the loss in income is a damage you have incurred. If your house has to be retrofit to accommodate you because of the injury, that is a damage. All of these are easily identifiable monetary damages you have incurred and will go in determining how much your case is worth.

2) Future Treatment Costs

If you have to continue seeing a doctor or medical professional because of your injury, even if you have mobility, these future costs should not be paid by you, as you were not the one that caused the long-term damage. These costs are directly attributable to the slip and fall case and are used directly in the determination of your cases value.

3) How Much You Have Lost by Being Injured

Lets use an example for this. Lets say someone who was a truck driver slipped on some icy stairs at a client facility when getting paperwork signed to off-load his delivery truck. In trying to save himself, he grabs the handrail, but the ice was there too. He slips and his eye catches the handrail, making the driver blind in one eye temporarily. This sounds like a terrible accident, but at least the driver can still walk, talk, and isn’t completely blind.

Driving a truck requires you to have vision in both eyes, so he can’t drive a truck anymore. This means the occupation he studied for and is getting paid to do is gone. If his livelihood has been impacted by this accident, the loss in income is something that can be quantified and needs to be taken into consideration for his case.

Although the example above is fictional, slip and fall accidents often have severe losses because of the injury, and a good attorney will fight to make sure you get what you deserve for those losses.

4) How Much You Will Lose in the Future Because of the Damages

Using the same example above, what if the driver was permanently blind in one eye. While he can work in the office, they can’t pay him the same wages as if he were on the road. Assuming he earned $60,000 per year on the road and will earn $45,000 in the office, the other $15,000 per year, with adjustments made for inflation and average increases in both roles, will be considered.

The subsequent loss in income over his working years will all be taken into account when determining the future losses for your case. Your attorney will do all the research for you to get you the most they can for your case, but they know how to make all this information highly relevant to the case and the courts.

5) Pain and Suffering

This one is the hardest to quantify, as it relies on every individual person’s state of mind. If you are wheelchair bound because of your accident, and your spouse can’t take care of you in that condition, causing a divorce, that is very difficult to handle emotionally. This falls into the pain and suffering category.

What if you suffer from phantom pains because of your injury for years (or the rest of your life)? There is nothing physically wrong and no doctor can help, but you feel real pain. This also falls into the pain and suffering pool.

Last example (I promise); what if your injury causes you to become depressed. How that makes you feel can’t necessarily be measured in dollars and sense, but you are still feeling some pain and suffering. This is all vital to your case.

6) Hiring the Right Attorney

If you are in a slip and fall injury in Las Vegas, NV, you have options of lawyers who can represent you. The streets and the strip are littered with billboards of attorneys all claiming to be the best. How do you know, then, who is really the best.

You want to choose a personal injury attorney who does nothing but personal injury law. You want someone who has represented thousands of clients in slip and fall cases and knows exactly how to win them and get large settlements awarded in your favor.

At Paternoster Law Group, we believe that nobody who was injured in a slip and fall accident should proceed in dealing with the companies who caused the injury without talking to a qualified attorney first. As experienced personal injury lawyers, we know the games insurance play to get out of paying what you deserve.

Don’t fall for their tricks. You deserve every penny of damages the law allows you to collect. Call our team at Paternoster Law Group Personal Injury Lawyers at 702-654-1111 or contact us online to schedule a free consultation to discuss your legal options. We are conveniently located in Las Vegas and can schedule meetings in person at our office, wherever you are, or via tele-conference. The sooner you meet with us, the better your chances of preserving your rights to recover the compensation you deserve

Source: https://paternosterlaw.com/slip-and-fall/what-slip-and-fall-case-is-worth/