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sbdskate · 10 months ago

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Pencils Down (18+) - Daniel Ricciardo x lawyer!fem!reader

Pairing: Daniel Ricciardo x fem!lawyer!reader

Summary: At the end of the 2022 F1 season, Daniel Ricciardo finalizes his legal affairs by signing as a reserve driver with Red Bull. The tempting young associate who’s handled the negotiations is no longer off limits.

Warnings (18+): language, *smut (!!!), dry humping, oral (f receiving), fingering, NSFW

Word Count: 2,957

A/N: Surprise! This is an alternate Laws Of Attraction scene that I turned into a one shot. Initially, I had written the hook up to happen immediately after the contract signing, but realized it disrupted the flow of the story. That being said, I still want it to see the light of day. If you're new here: (1) welcome! (2) if you liked it and want the full story, you can find it here. Again, new to smut writing so feedback is always welcome and appreciated. Thank you!

Daniel Ricciardo had finally signed with Red Bull as a reserve driver. After a tumultuous 2022 season filled with lots of lows, you had been the one shiny bright spot as he navigated what his future might look like in the sport. Everybody seemed to have an opinion and something to say, though rarely to his face – how many times had he read in the press that he was “washed up” or that “his career is over” if he didn’t get a primary seat on the grid. But you’d listened to him and supported him as you traversed the fallout with McLaren’s termination and braved negotiations with other teams. Granted, as his lawyer it was your job to act as his fiduciary so he shouldn’t have read as much into it as he did. But from Belgium to Abu Dhabi, he shared his hopes and dreams with you for now and for the future and you received his words with care and without judgment.

Stress, despair, and proximity created the ultimate concoction that laminated the bond between attorney and client. The more time you spent together, the more you learned about each other, and the harder it was to keep personal feelings from muddling the professional relationship. He watched as you navigated worlds surrounded by men, both in Daniel’s field and yours, and he admired your wit, intellect and steadfast determination in the face of being constantly undermined and underestimated. And you, ever the skeptic and cautious to a fault, couldn’t help but succumb to the charm of the handsome driver even when he was at his worst.

Which brought you to the hallway of Red Bull hospitality, the ink from his signature still wet on the new contract for the 2023 season. The other lawyers and representatives had cleared out, leaving the two of you to contemplate whether the little touches and prolonged glances over the last three months were more than they seemed.

“So that’s it?”

“Yeah.”

“Pencils down.”

“Yep.”

“I’m not your client anymore.”

“Correct, I no longer represent you.”

“Now what?”

The irony of the situation was not lost on either of you. After months of buildup and counting down the seconds until the end of your attorney-client representation, you were stuck in a country that criminalized PDA and the cohabitation of unmarried couples. He was scheduled to go back to Perth and you back to the New York office of your law firm tomorrow. You hadn’t allowed your daydreams to get this far and you were stumped.

“I don’t know.” The universe was cruel and unforgiving. You checked your surroundings and bit your lip in frustration.

“Follow me,” he whispered. “I know a place.”

You followed the driver a pace or two behind in silence as you tracked the maze of Red Bull hospitality, cutting through the kitchen, hallways and corridors, until you reached Max’s driver’s room. He closed the door and locked it behind you. He grabbed your hands.

“Tell me you don’t want this. And I’ll leave you alone. You’ll never have to see me again.” His voice was low and gruff, in a way you had never heard before. He squeezed your hands, eyes pleading, trying to convey more than he could put into words in the moment.

You shook your head in disbelief that somehow that was the conclusion he had come to. You cupped his face with your hand, thumb rubbing along his stubbled jaw line. Your voice was soft, barely able to get the words out.

“I want this. I want you. Please.”

You didn’t have to say it twice. His lips crashed into yours in a passionate kiss that almost knocked you off your feet. Months of pent-up sexual tension and mutual curiosity were released in an instant. Your hands roamed each other’s bodies, too many places to explore to stay in one place. Your hands finally found a home in his soft, beautiful curls while his hand firmly held the base of your neck. His other hand rubbed circles around your lower back, cautiously moving downwards. You smiled into the kiss and moved his hand to your bottom, granting permission to proceed.

Having the green light, he moved his other hand down to grab a handful of your ass and picked you up. Instinctively, you wrapped your legs around him as he pushed you up against the wall. The hem of your pencil skirt scrunched up at your waist. The thin fabric of your underwear and the bulge of his pants caused friction against your sensitive clit, and you wiggled your hips to get more from the sensation. You kissed him back with ferocity in an attempt to stifle the moans you desperately wanted to scream out, especially as you felt him harden from the contact. You pouted when he pulled away, only for his lips to land on the sensitive spot on your neck. You threw your head back and closed your eyes, unfortunately with too much gusto causing a loud *thud* when your head hit the wall. He immediately stopped.

“Are you ok?” His concern was immediately replaced by giggles when he saw you laughing. “Shhhh we still need to be quiet.”

“I know, I know,” you said between fits of laughter. “It’s just – are we crazy? We’re in a glorified closet with paper thin walls.” You paused, your laughter slowing. “Maybe this isn’t a good idea,” you said with a sympathetic smile. He gave you a chaste kiss.

“If it were up to me,” Your eyes rolled back as his lips met the column of your neck again. “I’d wine and dine you so hard,” *peck* “maybe somewhere in Monaco,” *peck* “and then take you home and fuck you on the balcony.” You were practically drooling by the time he pulled away to look at you. “This is nowhere close to being good enough for what you deserve. We can stop whenever you want.”

You looked at him, dazed. His warm chestnut brown eyes were so earnest, but it was hard to keep your head straight with him still firmly pressed against you. You absentmindedly wiggled again but he steadied your hips with his fingers. He pressed his forehead to yours.

“I need you to use your words. Do you want to stop?” You frowned.

“No,” you paused. “But I don’t know if I want to continue here.”

“There’s always tonight.” Skeptical, you raised an eyebrow.

“Go on?”

“Well, I can come to your room once all the festivities are over and everyone goes to bed. If you’ll have me, of course.” You swooned.

“Don’t be ridiculous, I already told you I want you. It’s risky though, no?”

“I mean yeah, a little. But …” he grabbed your wrists and pinned them besides your head. “…trying not to get caught is half the fun.” His hot breath tickled your face. All sense of logic and reason went out the window. As a lawyer, this whole situation went against your very nature of rule following.

“Oh,” was all you could croak out.

“Can I do something for you before we go outside?”

“Please,” you begged, eliciting a wicked smirk from him. It dawned on you that he enjoyed seeing you frazzled. But you enjoyed it too. Considering how intense your job was, the mental reprieve was just as thrilling as his touch.

Peeling you from the wall, he continued to hold you until he sat down on the massage table so that you were straddling him. Free from you prior constraints, you rolled your hips over his hardened bulge as you made out. His hands moved from your ass to unbutton your shirt partially, just enough to expose your breasts. He moved a hand to cup one, gently rolling a thumb over your unlined bra where your nipple lay beneath. He separated from the kiss to make his way south, not missing the opportunity to take you in.

“Holy shit,” he breathed. He remembered when you burst into his own room just a few weeks ago to apologize for abandoning him in Austin. Flushed rosy cheeks, messy hair, clothes disheveled, panting - as you were now. He loved how easily he could make you come undone and that only he could ever see you this way. He raised his hips to meet yours when his mouth finally landed on your neck again. You leaned forward and gently bit his shoulder to suppress the noises that threatened to spill from your lips as you bucked your hips. Not trusting your ability to stay quiet, you began leaving a trail of kisses starting at his jaw and down his neck. He stopped you part way down his chest when he realized what you were doing, grabbing your hips roughly. You looked up at him innocently.

“What’s wrong?”

“Don’t.”

“I want to make you feel good.”

“You already make me feel good. This is about you.” He hoisted you back up on his lap, positioning so he could pick you up again. You let out a small yelp at the sudden movement, only for him to place you back down on the massage table. He leaned down to give you a kiss on your forehead before spreading your legs and kneeling in front of you. If you weren’t blushing before, your face was now beet-red. His hands lightly caressed the length of your leg, starting at your ankles and slowly making their way up your thighs. Your toes curled in your heels in anticipation.

You took a sharp inhale as he leaned in to leave a trail kisses up your inner thigh. You held your breath when he stopped at your panty-line, his hands playing with the sides of your thong. He looked up at you intently.

“Do you want me to keep going?” Eyes wide, you aggressively nodded and he chuckled at your eagerness. He drew little patterns over and around you, but purposefully just shy of your clit. You bit your bottom lip in frustration, the teasing becoming unbearable. He lightly dragged a finger over the center of your underwear, feeling your wetness through the fabric. As cool, calm, and collected as he looked to you, he too was quite literally bursting at the seams. His hardened cock strained against his pants seeking release. He wished he could fuck you right then and there, but understood the obvious risks you so pointedly observed.

Your legs trembled as he slowly pulled the fabric down. You wanted to scream feeling his hot breath over your entrance. You slapped a hand over your mouth when he closed the gap. He drew little circles around your bundle of nerves with his tongue before he switched to flicking. Your free hand found its way to his curls again, grasping for anything to keep you grounded as you felt like you would float away. Looking up from between your thighs, he saw the rise and fall of your chest and your bra peeking through your shirt. He unwrapped an arm to bring a finger to your folds, pausing to gauge your reaction.

You subconsciously bucked your hips, desperate for more contact. Accepting the sign, he inserted a finger, then two as he continued to lap at your clit. You arched your back in response to the dual sensations, doing your best to focus on your breathing. You wanted to shout his name to the world, to let everyone know that he was yours and you were his. Every obscenity known to man was on the tip of your tongue, but you held it in. His hands and mouth fell into a comfortable rhythm as your hand found a place in his hair again, running fingers through soft ringlets. Your core tensed, pressure pooling in your lower abdomen. He sensed you were close as you subconsciously squeezed your thighs around his head, encouraging him to keep going. He wished he could stay there forever. He looked up again a few moments later to see your eyes squeezed shut and your whole body convulsing around him as you reached your climax. He’d never seen a more beautiful sight.

You melted into the table as you came down from your high. You gave him a small pat on the head to indicate that you had finished, though your limp body was evidence enough to him. He smiled as he pulled away, giving a small kiss on your inner thigh before sucking his fingers that had been inside you moments ago. You lazily glanced at him slack-jawed. You still weren’t sure whether this was all just a fever dream. He began to wipe his mouth but you grabbed his shirt to stop him.

“No,” you mumbled. You haphazardly pulled on the shirt in your hands to encourage him to meet your lips and he happily obliged. “I want to taste myself,” you said under your breath just as the gap closed.

He wasn’t exactly sure what he had done to deserve such praise but was thankful nonetheless. You felt another wave of pleasure pulse through you as you tasted your own salty essence on your tongue. You began palming him over his pants, moving to unbuckle his belt when he stopped you. Sometimes he even surprised himself with the amount of self-control he had. But he knew it was only because if things progressed, the little he had left would dissolve into oblivion. He would happily go to jail for you, but he was not worried about getting caught himself. The repercussions for you would be detrimental in more ways than one and he wasn’t sure his celebrity would be enough to shelter you from reprimand.

“Nooooo,” you whined as he peeled your hand from his crotch. He gave it a kiss before returning it to your side.

“Not here. Later, I promise.” His cock was pulsating, he tried to think of the Bills, Zak Brown, or literally anything else to take his mind away from the vision in front of him. You moved your hand down to play with yourself, but he grabbed it again. Your lower lip jutted, and you spread your legs wider for him. He was pretty sure he would give you almost anything you asked for with the eyes you gave him. Almost.

“Why?”

“Because we’ll get caught.”

“If I go to jail, I go to jail.” He laughed.

“That’s not what you said earlier. Plus -” he gave you a peck on the cheek. “I can’t fuck you if you’re in jail.” He had a point. You closed your legs, finally conceding.

“Fine. But I’m not happy about it.” Taking your hand again, he helped you to your feet. He knelt before you to pull your panties up, unnecessarily taking his time. He didn’t miss the opportunity to kiss your hips and gave your butt a light tap to close out the encounter. He straightened your skirt, taking care to smooth out as many wrinkles as he could. You bit your bottom lip, your heart felt so full with how delicately he handled you but you also ached for him to rip off the clothes he just took great care putting on.

“You’re being awfully needy.” He continued to dress you as you complained, buttoning your shirt back up.

“What can I say? I’m a strong, independent, needy woman.” He bit back his laugh. He didn’t need you to know this hurt him as much as it pained you.

You pulled him in for a kiss again, though it only lasted a second before he practically pushed you away. You frowned and were about to ask his what was wrong, but looked down and quickly realized his conundrum. You were reminded of one of the few benefits of being a woman: the ability to hide arousal in public.

“Oh – oh shit. I can help…?” You gently touched his chest and began kneeling but he placed your hand back at your side and encouraged you to stand upright.

“Nope. No. I just have to… think of something else for a bit.” You looked at him intently but he was very focused on the ceiling. You didn’t want to make him feel bad, so you pursed your lips together to hold back your laughter.

“Ok. Well, um, I’ll see you later then.” He shut his eyes hard when you went to give him a kiss on the cheek. “Oh fuck, I’m sorry,” you said again, realizing you were not helping the situation. “I’m just - going to go.” You turned around and bent over to pick up your work bag, which incidentally prominently displayed the curves of your rear.

“Oh my God, please just get out.” You immediately stood up straight to find him covering his eyes with his hands.

“I know, I’m sorry!” You walked backwards to the door to avoid any further accidental temptation. “This was fun, I’ll see you later,” you said with a giant smile.

Not removing one of the hands from his face, he waved with the other one. “Just be careful on your way out. But please, for the sake of both of us, you need to leave,” he said with a smile.

“I know, I know, I’m leaving. Byeeee,” you whispered as you shut the door.

You quickly checked your surroundings and made a b-line for the bathroom where you finally had a moment to process what just happened. You looked at your reflection. Your heartbeat had finally returned to normal, but your cheeks were still a little flushed from the encounter. Otherwise, you pulled your slightly tangled hair back in a bun – no one would be none the wiser.

You didn’t look much different, but your sense of reality had been permanently altered.

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wandascrush · 3 months ago

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The family

Summary: Your family is very different from the Romanoffs. Maybe that’s okay.

Warnings: secrecy, criminal activity, mafia inuendos, kissing, lmk if I forgot anything! A/N: This part kinda serves as family background context

Family, family, family. You love em’ or you hate em’. When you really thought about it, your family couldn’t be any more different from Natasha’s. You came from a middle class family, while the Romanoffs were so removed from that life. You two weren’t different just in terms of tax brackets- no, the culture was different too. You had an older brother, your mother, and your father. Nothing really out of the ordinary, and you had family spread all throughout New York- extremely tight knit. Something the Romanoffs didn’t seem like they had.

The business of your two families, that couldn’t be more different. Natasha’s father was the head of the NYPD, an upholding citizen of the law. Your father- well, he ran a corner store with your mother, and as much as all of that was true and honest, they also ran a background business with your Uncles. You had always assumed it was petty goods or something minuscule, unimportant. That was until your favorite Uncle randomly got taken away one Tuesday afternoon at the dry cleaners he ran, and your family quickly cut off all ties with him. As if he ceased to exist. Their business affairs became much more secretive, organized, and quiet after that. That was the first time you ever felt that maybe the underground business your family ran wasn’t so unimportant…or underground. All of that was nearly three years ago, and now you understood the scope of what your family had going on- or that is, at least you thought you understood the scope of what they had going on. Either way, you came from a line of hard workers, entrepreneurs, and a loving home. Not perfect, not always pretty, and not shiny, but there was love in it. And you knew that. The sharp, young mind that you had would have never considered anyone in your family criminals- like truly bad criminals. Real criminals. Unfortunately, that’s not what Natasha’s father, Jon, saw when you stepped foot in their home. He knew all about your little family and their businesses, both above and underground. He just didn’t know what exactly they were doing underground, but he heard whispers of it from colleagues, friends, customers.

Natasha’s father is a man of few words, but his presence commands respect and fear. He’s not the type to show affection openly, and when he does speak, his words carry the weight of unspoken threats. You know he’s not the dad that kisses his daughters goodnight, or watches as they descend the stairs before their first school dance. He’s the type of dad to give you a firm pat on the shoulder, and go back to his study. Meanwhile Natasha’s mother was soft spoken, nice- but not kind, and distant. She was in two places at once when she talked to you, never quite giving her full attention.

On the other hand, your family was so warm, like a fireplace. Your dad was funny and so protective, but sometimes he could be so angry. Sometimes, he scared you. You now know he’s involved in something more than just the legitimate businesses he fronts; the hushed conversations in the study, the late-night visitors who never stay long, the subtle nods of acknowledgment he receives from men who walk with a certain air of authority—they all point to a darker truth. That never stopped him from being a good dad though, your dad. Your mother is equally enigmatic, a woman of grace and elegance who runs the household like a queen. She’s fiercely protective of you, but there’s always a sense of something unspoken, something lurking just beneath the surface of her calm demeanor. And her love for you two is fierce beyond belief. Then there’s your older brother, who’s already being groomed to take over the family business. He’s charming and charismatic, the kind of man who can talk his way out of anything, but you’ve started to see the darker side of him too—the cold, calculating stare, the ruthless determination to protect the family’s interests at any cost. As deep as your love runs for them, sometimes you wonder if you’re safe. Really safe.

Through you and Natasha’s “friendship,” or whatever it was, there were unspoken rules that lingered between you two: 1. Don’t get caught. 2. Never be affectionate in public. And perhaps the most impotent rule of all- 3. Our families can never know. She explained all these rules to you while sitting on your lap in the attic, kissing you between every rule.

#natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff angst #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff x female #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff

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wambsgansshoelaces · 1 year ago

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Turmoil; Chapter 1

Roman Roy x fem!Reader -read the rest here!

Prompt: slowburn romantic drama, arranged marriage plot line

a/n: thank you to anon for requesting! if you requested this fic, please tell me so I can tag you! I apologize if this reads as unrealistic or too dramatic- but please let me know your thoughts!

Word Count: 2.358k

Nothing. You’d turned yourself into something from nothing.

You’d ended up in New York on your own, running from your past, vying for a fresh start. With a degree from Harvard law in your pocket and an unsatiated hunger for success, it only took one case to change your fortune.

Your boss had pawned the case off on you because it seemed impossible. A man charged for real property fraud, and heaps of evidence to prove it. You initially thought you’d pawn the case off to some other schmuck, until you’d been given an anonymous tip and found a discrepancy in a bit of evidence that unraveled the opposition’s entire case.

It was a massive win- not just for you, but for your entire firm -and it came with a massive raise.

A few years later, you’d amassed an egregious amount of money in total and even more respect from those around you, so you quit and founded your own firm. You’re thankful for everything you have. You stay humble, you’re likable, and you make sure everyone in your employment is as well. It keeps you afloat- New York loves you, but more importantly, they trust you.

It earns you millions.

You’re happy with the life you lead. You frequent charity events, donating whenever you can, staying kind. You know what kindness can feel like during a period of misery. You remember what relief felt like when extended a hand, so you extend yours whenever you can.

You help the people around you. You’re kind to everyone, conduct yourself with grace, and are aware of yourself and those around you.

Maybe that’s why Logan Roy chose you.

He’d written to you a week ago, inviting you to dinner to discuss business prospects. You assume he’s gotten himself into a legal pickle involving some of his questionable activity which some regard as criminal.

When you enter the restaurant, one of his men spawn at your side and lead you into the dimly lit back where nobody is sitting. Your heels click on the marble, your gait not wavering.

“Mr. Roy,” you say when you see him. He gets up, albeit very slowly, and shakes your hand.

“Y/L/N in the flesh.” He sits back down and gestures to the seat across from him. You oblige. “You’ve made quite the name for yourself.”

“I do my best.”

He beckons over a passing waiter. “Get her whatever she wants. Put it on my tab.”

You quietly order a small appetizer and watch him watch you.

“Well, Mr. Roy, I hate beating around the bush. Why am I here?”

“The first case you worked on. Do you remember that man’s name? The one you proved innocent?”

“Connor Frost. I don’t forget. Never showed his face once.”

“About him. For witness protection and press reasons, we were allowed to alter his name in the official papers. We also got away with him never being there.”

Your heart misses a beat.

“Connor Roy was on trial for real property fraud, and you proved him innocent,” he continues. You school your face into neutrality. You get a sick feeling in your stomach that won’t stop growing and gnawing at you. It threatens to eat you inside out. “I hate to burst your bubble, but he was guilty. Fucking stupid, it was.”

You blink. “I don’t mean any disrespect, but-”

Logan’s eyes never leave yours. “But nothing. The deed you found in Connor’s name? Forged. And the people who forged it were paid more than enough to never think of speaking about it in court. You couldn’t have known it was fake, so you took it to trial and won. I practically bankrolled that raise of yours.” You can feel yourself begin to itch. “Initially, there was never any need to tell you. If I had things my way, I’d have let you live your life doing whatever the fuck you wanted. But my son had other plans.” As if he didn’t just reveal that your first case was a joke, he offers you some wine. You quickly decline. You feel like you’re going to puke all over him.

“Kendall. You know Kendall.” His voice drips with venom. “Would’ve given everything to him, but he obviously has different ideas for the company. I can’t let him take it now. He’ll fuck up everything I’ve worked for and put into place at Waystar. And I’m not giving the company to the idiot who accidentally committed fraud to the point of felony, or the one who’s running around the world with her dumb fucking political bullshit. That leaves me with one son. So the company has to go to him.”

Logan tops off his glass of wine. “But, by God’s grace, this leftover son is the fucking stupidest of them all.”

You have no idea how this has anything to do with you.

“Let me be clear, Miss Y/L/N. I respect you. You’re a fantastic attorney. I’d have you on retainer- I will, once my current contract with that Frederica jackass runs out. But you must forgive me for all of this. I have to do what needs to be done.”

He inhales, then sighs. “For you to take control without me losing public face, I want you and my son to come to an agreement in a partnership.”

You have to give him the dumbest fucking look for him to respond with, “Marry him. I need you to marry him.”

“I’m sorry?” You can barely keep your composure. You think you’re dreaming, or someone spiked your water, or you’re dead, or anything but this.

“I can’t have him in control. I can pretend like he is, sure, but I need someone with a brain at the helm.”

“I… my degree is in criminal law. I have no idea how the corporate, let alone financial world runs.” It’s all you can think of to say.

He waves you off. “You’ll learn.”

You don’t know what to say. You probably look like a fish, mouth hung open as you gape at him. “Surely someone else is better suited to this than me. I won’t. I can’t.”

“This is why I had to apologize,” he mutters. “Do as I say, and our secret is kept. Walk away, the tabloids will learn of a little lady who buried and forged evidence to win her first court case.”

“You can’t be serious. I thought it was real!”

“The public doesn’t know that. Regardless, I’ve done worse. I’ve ruined stronger, more powerful people with much less.”

You press your lips into a thin line. “I suppose you’ve left me with no choice,” you grit out.

Logan smiles and claps his hands together. “Welcome to the family.” Your appetizer finally comes and is set in front of you. You don’t feel that hungry anymore. “What are you waiting for? Eat!”

He takes a bit of calamari from you. “I think it goes without saying,” he says, “that if you say anything about this conversation we’ve had, you’ll end up prosecuted and in jail for fraud.”

☾𖤓

You feel like you could punch a hole into the wall. You can’t believe it. It’s pure dumb fucking luck that you got caught in this.

Logan Roy didn’t choose you for your legal prowess, or any of your skill or ability like you’d stupidly believed. He chose you because he has control over you, and he knows it.

A few days pass, and you begrudgingly drag yourself out of your rotting place in bed. Cursing yourself the entire time, you change into something nice. Logan told you he was throwing a party in your name, to introduce you to the family- and the inner circle, you knew.

If anything, you think to yourself, you look fucking good.

You’re not prepared for the onslaught of paparazzi that bombards you the moment you step out of the house.

That bastard must’ve told the press about your engagement.

There’s nothing you can do but get into the black sedan waiting for you at the bottom of your driveway. You’re probably going to have to move, now.

You sit in the backseat, simmering the entire drive. You have to prepare yourself for the hell that’ll be stiff arming paparazzi to get to the party.

When you pull up, you take a deep breath, and step out the car. The man sitting in the passenger seat got out before you and walks out in front of you, another flanking you as you push through the chaos.

The flashes are almost blinding, but you keep your eyes open. Every picture taken tonight is going to be circulated tenfold by not even tomorrow morning. You hope you have resting bitch face in all of them.

Your miniature guard manages to get you inside with no issues. You’re late on purpose, and it seems like the room goes quiet when you enter.

The crowd stares back at you as you survey them. As much as your rage is telling you to make a scene, you won’t. Time and place, you tell yourself.

Immediately, you can tell Connor recognizes you. He tries to avoid your gaze, but your rage bubbles up and out of you. “Mind if I steal him for chat?” you ask the girl standing with him, voice painfully faux-sweet. You feel like you’re on Love Island, in some sick, twisted way.

The girl gives Connor an awkward pat on the arm before leaving him be. You can feel peoples’ eyes burning into the back of your head.

“You told me,” you begin, voice dangerously low, “that you didn’t do it.”

He looks everywhere but at you. “I was just doing what I had to.”

“Was fucking me over what you had to do? Because I feel like that’s all you did,” you hiss.

“Do you really think someone like me is going to ever go to jail?” Connor scoffs. “It could damage my reputation.”

“It could damage my reputation,” you mock. “Are you fucking stupid? Fucking God.”

You turn to leave, but immediately pivot back. “You’re a Roy. You would’ve been bailed out immediately. You wouldn’t have even gone to jail for an hour.”

You’re fuming. You’re barely holding it together.

Then, you catch the eyes of a man not that much taller than you, dressed in all crisp black. He’s handsome, you think, a light stubble dotting his jaw and soft eyes that wrinkle gently when he smiles.

He excuses himself from the conversation he’s having to come to you and Connor.

“Connor. You’ve met my lovely bride-to-be?”

You’re back to fuming, any thoughts of his beauty gone.

He sticks his hand out to you. “Roman Roy. Nice to meet you, I’m your fiancé.” His voice is painfully bitter.

“You think I want this any more than you do?” you ask under your breath, your handshake way too firm. His grip on your hand is equally as tight.

Connor snorts. “At least act like you like each other.”

“You’re the reason any of this happened. Keep yourself out of it,” you snap.

Roman sighs and turns away from Connor. “Can we go for a walk? We should probably have a word.” To your dismay, you agree.

As soon as you’re out of the main atrium and by yourselves in a grand hallway, you speak freely. “Listen, this is nothing personal,” you begin, “but I’m looking for a way out of this.”

Roman looks over at you as you walk, both of you going at a snail’s pace. “I don’t stink, do I?” He sticks his hands in his pockets. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry this happened to you. I know he’s blackmailing you.”

You sigh. “I should’ve known something was wrong with the case when I never saw my fucking client in person.”

“Well, I want this over as quickly as you do. My father doesn’t want me anywhere near the company, and I’d like to change that.” You both stop walking to face each other. Maybe you two can be friends, despite everything.

“Let me make something clear, though.” Roman takes a step towards you, leaning forward to whisper in your ear. “I’m only in this for me. Not you.”

Whatever positive thoughts you’d had were chased away. You spend the rest of the night fuming under your skin, lying through your teeth, and standing by yourself in the corner.

Siobhan Roy is the first to approach you.

“I admire you, you know.”

“Your father said that too, and look where I am now.”

She presses a flute of champagne into your hand. “I’m not my father.” You share a tense look. “Listen. I think we can do something good together,” she says lowly. “You want to disentangle yourself from this situation, and I want my father out of the picture when it comes to Waystar. Some of my clients have used your firm during political scandal. They all came away unscathed… I have full trust in your ability.”

“What do you want from me?”

“When the time comes,” Siobhan says, “I want you to help take my father to court. And put him down under. So to speak,” she adds. “And I’ll help make sure that if my father ever says anything about you, nobody believes it.”

After Siobhan, it’s Kendall.

“Shiv talked to you.” He’s worse at keeping conversation than she is. “I would also be involved in this. I’d take my dad’s place as CEO, Roman becomes COO.”

“I take him to court, I’m told.”

“Yeah. Yeah, you do, and you win,” he says carefully. “And then you get so much money you can run away to some foreign country and forget any of this happened.”

You regard him carefully. “How can I trust you? Or Siobhan? Or anyone in this fucking place?”

Kendall pauses, and takes a moment to think. “You can’t,” is all he says before leaving you standing on your own once again.

Finally, Roman makes his way back to you. You bristle as you watch him approach. “I know you don’t really like me right now, but I want to go home and I can’t leave without you on my arm. So, shall we?”

You roll your eyes, but take his elbow anyway.

#roman roy #roman roy x you #roman roy x reader #succession #succession hbo #succession fic #succession x reader #slowburn #roman roy slowburn #romantic drama #succession slowburn #x reader slowburn #wambsgansshoelaces #turmoil

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f1ghtsoftly · 8 days ago

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All The Women’s News You Missed Last Week

A Florida woman jailed for repeating the phrase “Delay, Deny, Depose” in a response to a health insurance claim denial. Australian Parliament passes a new “gag” rule on abortion debate. 3 new victims of P. Diddy come forward will allegations and more this week.

Want this in your inbox instead? Subscribe here

LGBT:

Syracuse judge who refused to marry same-sex couple will stop hearing criminal cases for now, officials say

Women’s Rights:

Iran imposes strict hijab laws; approves death penalty for offenders

Texas sues New York doctor accused of posting abortion pills

Queensland parliament passes ‘unprecedented’ gag on abortion debate

Male Violence:

Cult leader who claimed underage girls among his ‘wives’ jailed for 50 years

Hannah Kobayashi found safe after disappearance, family says

Women cops forging ties for life with the sex trafficking victims they rescue

The 50 men accused in mass rape of Gisèle Pelicot

Rape inquiry linked by Swedish media to Mbappé closed

New name, no photos: Gisèle Pelicot removes all trace of her husband

Champion cyclist pleads guilty over Olympian wife's car death

Yung Filly charged with reckless driving while on bail for rape charges

Jay-Z asks court to dismiss rape lawsuit over inconsistencies

Paula Abdul settles lawsuit alleging sexual abuse by Nigel Lythgoe

Three men accuse Diddy of rape and sexual assault in new lawsuits

Rapper Slowthai breaks down as he is cleared of rape

Calls for Archbishop of York to resign over Church failings in sex abuse case

Abuse survivors 'still failed years after inquiry'

Harshita Brella told family her husband would kill her, mother tells BBC

Women in the News:

Woman charged with threatening healthcare firm by using CEO killer's words

Assad's police threatened to bury me and my reporting. Now I'm back, and free

Relatives of missing Syrians 'suspended between hope and despair'

The woman helping amputees rebuild their lives in war-torn Ukraine

Family 'devastated' no prosecutions over Garda car death

Canada's finance minister quits over Trump tariff dispute with Trudeau

Woman killed in London triple shooting named

One in four babies in England born by Caesarean

Arts and Culture:

Influencer's brand faces backlash over bullying claims

Quannah ChasingHorse: The Indigenous American supermodel on bringing change

Meet Karol G, Colombia's Taylor Swift

As always, this is global and domestic news from a US perspective covering feminist issues and women in the news more generally. As of right now, I do not cover Women’s Sports. Published each Monday afternoon.

#radblr #radical feminism #radical feminist #char on char #radical feminists do touch #radfem safe #radical feminist theory #radfems #radfem #gender critical

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metalmonki · 6 months ago

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Objection!

Rafael Barba x fem!Carisi!reader

1k word count

Summary All you wanted was to be a lawyer like your big brother Sonny. So what happens when you get a job working under the famous ADA Rafael Barba

slow-burn, colleague to friends to lovers

Next Chapter

The day had finally come. I had successfully graduated Harvard Law. My Mum, Dad, brother Sonny and sisters Bella, Teresa and Gina had made the trip out of Staten Island to witness the graduation. The youngest of the Carisi clan, I choose to follow Sonny into the criminal prosecution career track. Sonny had recently transferred to the Elite Manhattan Special Victims Unit and was also studying at Fordham Law ‘to make myself a better detective’ he had said. Sonny and I, despite our 11-year age gap, were completely inseparable. He had been the one who got the rest of our family together to be here today. Sonny is the whole reason I was graduating today. He had encouraged me even after Mum and Dad had voiced their disappointment at my choice.

I had barely made it off the stage when Sonny had scooped me up in his arms and began spinning us around. He had the worlds biggest smile on his face and repeated over and over again how proud he was of me. Our parents and sisters soon joined us.

“I’m going to cook a big feast tonight just for you” Mom smiled.

“You always cook a big feast, that’s every meal for you” Dad scoffed.

“Oh shush you cranky old man” Mum swatted at him with open hands.

We all laughed at the pair and walked off to the cars. We had a long drive ahead of us back to Staten Island. After dinner I would then have to drive back into Manhattan with Sonny. I had come here with Sonny yesterday from his apartment in Manhattan and had no choice but to go back there with him tonight. Now I had graduated I had no clue what I was suppose to do. I had been applying for positions in almost every law firm in New York with no luck. I’d even applied for the DA’s office with no success. I knew Sonny would let me live with him for however long it took for me to find my feet. He had insisted on it in fact when I’d moved back to New York last month. This had been Mum and Dads complaint. I would waste my time on a piece of paper that would lead me nowhere. I’d even put in an extra two years on a masters degree just to increase my chances.

“Hay kiddo is everything okay?” Sonny spoke up “You’ve been silent for the last 45 minutes and you look worried”

“Maybe Mum and Dad were right” Was all I could get out.

“About what? Don’t tell me your doubting yourself now” Sonny smiled over at me.

“I spent the whole month applying for positions with no luck, all I’ve managed is a minimum wage bodega job. I can’t rely on you forever Sonny, you have your own life, the woman at work you said you fancy, while I just wasted six years to get a piece of paper that’s turning out to be useless. I wanted to be up there with the greats like Alexander Cabot and Rafael Barba” I sighed picking at my nails.

“Y/N Carisi always worrying” Sonny chuckled “Give it time you’ll get something soon; you don’t need to rush”

“I’m not trying to rush I just don’t like not knowing” I threw my hands up.

But wait I did. For 9 months I applied for any law jobs that came up. I worked my ass off at the bodega, saving every penny I could to get out of Sonny’s flat. Then one day it happened. I had been busy cooking dinner, a simple chicken alfredo, when Sonny basically smashed his way through the door. I hadn’t expected him home until much later. I knew they were having trouble catching the Central Park Strangler as the papers had dubbed him. A horrid man who would stalk lone women in central park, strangle and rape them. Sonny had said he was escalating an attack every night, he hadn’t killed anyone yet but Sonny was sure he would soon. He had made me promise not to leave the flat alone at night until they got the guy. He had left DNA at every scene so as soon as they got him he was going away for life. No chance of a plea bargain, no way to weasel out of it. Sonny had a huge smile on his face as he walked into the kitchen.

“I’m guessing by the smile on your face you caught your guy? That or you finally grew a pair and asked Amanda out and she said yes” I chuckled.

“Yes, well no, but yes” Sonny stumbled over his words while he hung his coat up and took his shoes off.

“Well which is it?” I laughed.

“We caught the guy, Barba had him shipped to rikers an hour ago” Sonny put his brief case on the bench and dug through it producing a manila envelope. “I also got this for you” he handed the envelope to me.

I wiped my hands off on my apron and took the envelope. I turned it over in my hands taking note of the District Attorneys office logo in the corner. I disregarded it as just being an envelope Sonny had handy. I turned the envelope over once more and unwound the string keeping it closed. Inside was a stack of paperwork maybe 30 pages thick. Written on top of the first sheet in bold letters were the words OFFER OF EMPLOYMENT. I looked up shocked at Sonny before looking back at the papers. We are pleased to offer you a position as an assistant to ADA Rafael Barba at the New York District Attorney Office.

“Oh Sonny this is amazing thank you” I pulled him into a hug.

“It was nothing I just called in a favour when I heard Barba needed some extra help” Sonny chuckled “All you need to do is fill in the forms and drop them off to Barba tomorrow. He says he’ll in his office from 3 onward”.

“I’ll fill them in first thing but for now lets eat!”.

“Oh you mean the food that’s burning on the stove?” Sonny chuckled.

“Shit!” I spun back to the stove but it was pointless the chicken had already started turning black and the pasta was almost boiled dry.

“I’ll order out and you can trying to salvage my pot and pan” Sonny laughed walking off phone in hand.

#rafael barba x reader #rafael barba x you #law and order svu #sonny carisi

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justinspoliticalcorner · 19 days ago

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Radley Balko at The Watch:

Donald Trump has never had much tolerance for the free press. Throughout his first term he demanded we “open up the libel laws” to make it easier to sue journalists for unflattering coverage — which, more than anything else, reveals that he doesn’t really understand how any of this works. Even if he were able to persuade some red states to pass libel laws more hostile to the press, and even if he could get the Supreme Court to uphold such laws, few public figures would be hit harder by those laws than Donald Trump, who regularly defames his perceived enemies . During his first term Trump also threatened to withhold federal contracts and funding, and to revoke tax incentives from his critics. He repeatedly threatened such repercussions against Jeff Bezos and his various businesses because the Washington Post published investigations into Trump’s incompetence, corruption, and abuse of power. Those threats in and of themselves were likely unconstitutional, even if Trump had never followed up on them.

But the threats also had their intended effect. Bezos intervened to stop the paper from endorsing Trump’s opponent last month, and since the election the billionaire has been tripping over himself to heap praise on the incoming president. Trump has since only doubled down threatening the media. Over the course of his 2024 campaign he threatened to strip legacy broadcasters of their licenses (it’s not clear what that would mean, given that broadcast is all but obsolete), and his surrogates have pushed the absurd idea that unflattering coverage, “biased” debate questions and fact checking, and the edits 60 Minutes made in its interview with Kamala Harris amounted to “illegal in-kind campaign contributions” that could bring criminal liability. Trump now appears ready to make good on many of his campaign threats. Here’s a quick rundown of what to look for.

Civil actions against journalists

We can start with Brendan Carr, a Project 2025 contributor and Trump’s nominee to head the Federal Communications Commission. Carr has already suggested that the FCC should investigate CBS over the 60 Minutes interview, as well as NBC’s invitation to Harris for a cameo on Saturday Night Live. Carr also wants to impose a partisan, contradictory regulation regime on social media platforms that would basically make it impossible for those platforms to exclude Nazis and white supremacists, harassment, and other objectionable content. It would basically turn every social media site into the cesspool that is X. Carr’s censorious blueprint is based on the theory that the owners of social media platforms have no First Amendment right to run their operations in a way that reflects their own beliefs and values. Carr and his ilk argue that social media sites are the “new public square.” But public squares are, well, public. You’re free to stand on your soapbox and pontificate to your heart’s content. Social media sites are companies. They require servers, paid staff, and other expenses. By Carr’s logic, if a private bookstore or coffee shop also became known for hosting political speakers, they’d be required to host and provide a platform for anyone else who wanted to speak, whether or not the owners agreed with that person’s views.

Trump’s plan to make the Department of Justice his personal, publicly-funded law firm will also have First Amendment ramifications. We’ll likely see him use government personnel and public resources to pursue his personal vendettas against media outlets. Don’t be surprised to see the DOJ or White House legal counsel use taxpayer resources to pursue, for example, the accusations against CBS, Washington Post, and New York Times, in which Trump claims to have suffered Dr. Evil-like damages.

Trump will likely look to red states for other ideas. Florida Republicans have tried to follow Trump’s lead by “opening up” the state’s libel laws to make it easier to sue for defamation. Their aim is to provide a vehicle for the Supreme Court to overturn NYT v. Sullivan. So far, they haven’t been able to get those bills passed. But they’re trying. And at least three Supreme Court justices seem open to the idea. Both Missouri Attorney General Andrew Bailey and Texas Attorney General Ken Paxton have opened investigations into the advocacy group Media Matters over its report about paid ads from mainstream companies appearing next to Nazi content on X. To be clear, the Media Matters report is journalism, full stop, and these attempts to silence them to win favor with Elon Musk ought to be as embarrassing as they are illegal (they’re both). Even if none of the Trump administration’s retributive civil actions hold up in court, as we’ve seen with Musk’s own absurd lawsuit against Media Matters, Trump-friendly judges can make investigations and lawsuits as cumbersome and costly as possible. The mere threat of retaliation will likely intimidate some outlets from covering Trump critically. I would hope good journalists and editors would continue to pursue important stories regardless of these threats, but the capitulation we’ve already seen from Bezos, as well as from the corporate owners of Gannet, the L.A. Times, and other papers, bodes ill for the independence of news desks.

Criminalizing journalism

Trump and his allies have made clear that they also plan to target specific journalists. It was only about a year ago that then-Senator JD Vance sent a letter to the DOJ on official letterhead calling for a criminal investigation of journalist Robert Kagan because of a column Kagan wrote for the Washington Post. Ironically, that column was about Trump’s authoritarianism. It was arguably the single most censorious act any member of Congress has undertaken in years. The same JD Vance would later deflect Tim Walz’s debate question about January 6th by decrying . . . “censorship.” We know that the first Trump administration was already targeting journalists who cover immigration and the border. Officials kept lists of reporters who covered Trump’s immigration policy skeptically, and singled them out for “secondary screening” when they left and attempted to reenter the country. U.S. Customs and Border Protection officials would later say they were considering opening a criminal investigation into some journalists for possible violations of the federal law that makes it illegal to “encourage or induce an alien to enter the United States.” This is the same law under which some immigration activists have been criminally prosecuted for leaving water out to migrants crossing the dessert.

[...]

Protest

Trump has made clear for decades that he has little tolerance for protest. We know from former aides that during his first term, Trump badly wanted to invoke the Insurrection Act and bring in the military to end the George Floyd demonstrations. We know that on more than one occasion he asked his aides why protesters couldn’t just be shot. We know that he has privately praised dictators in China, Venezuela, and Turkey specifically for their ruthless crackdowns on protest.

Trump was prevented from following through on his worst instincts the first time around by people like former Joint Chiefs Chairman Mark Milley and Defense Secretary Mark Esper. In response, Trump publicly suggested that Milley is a traitor who should be executed. If we see protests after the inauguration, Trump will quickly bring in the military. How the public reacts to the ensuing violence will probably determine how violent he’ll get going forward. But Trump and the people who will run his second administration have vowed to make sure there are no Milleys or Espers this time around. Trump has made that clear with his nomination of Pete Hegseth to run the Department of Defense. In one of his books, helpfully titled American Crusade, Hegseth warned that if Joe Biden won the 2020 election, Trump supporters would turn to violence, which he argued would be justified. He then wrote: “The military and police, both bastions of freedom-loving patriots, will be forced to make a choice. It will not be good. Yes, there will be some form of civil war.”

[...] Expect the Trump administration to defend or, with the help of a Republican Congress, even try to federalize some of the anti-protest legislation we’ve seen from red state lawmakers — policies like “buffer zones” in which members of the public are forbidden from recording law enforcement, limiting the criminal and civil liability of people who strike protesters with their cars, and criminalizing consumer boycotts (but only those that legislators find personally objectionable). I think we’re also likely to see more Republican state legislatures — and possibly Congress — take aim at charitable bail funds. Expect to see federal and state prosecutors go after the people who operate these funds under racketeering and money laundering laws, as we’ve already seen in Georgia. Republicans will claim that these funds are fronts for terrorist groups while also attempting to expand the definition of terrorism to include “antifa,” pro-Palestine organizations, and activist groups like Black Lives Matter.

[...]

Other threats

After decades of complaining (with some merit!) about leftist hegemony on college campuses, conservative activists and Republican governors have fought back with the brute force of state coercion. Republican legislatures in dozens of states have passed bills restricting academic freedom, from banning entire fields of study at state colleges and universities to prohibiting speakers from discussing certain topics, to even barring certain words and phrases from appearing on school websites. As with every other threat to speech we’ve discussed so far, we’re already seeing too many schools preemptively surrender. Just last month, the University of Alabama threatened a professor with termination for organizing a protest against a particularly censorious bill in the state legislature.

Many of these state laws banning DEI and CRT on campus were modeled after an executive order Trump signed in 2020. There’s ample reason to think the new Trump administration will federalize this right-wing holy war on academic freedom. MAGA figures like JD Vance have cited Hungarian President Victor Orbán’s hollowing out of and taking over academia as inspiration. Project 2025 calls for withholding student loan and federal research funding from colleges and universities unless they adopt policies like eradicating DEI programs and prohibiting gender studies, critical race theory, LGTBQ studies, and other subjects that give polemicists like Chris Rufo the vapors. Same for federal contractors, recipients of federal research grants, and anyone else who gets any sort of federal subsidy.

MAGA also seems ready to embrace the idea of compelled speech. Carr, along with several state governors and AGs want to force social media sites to host content they and their users find objectionable. Texas Attorney General Ken Paxton recently announced he’s opening a separate investigation into companies that don’t want to advertise on racist and far-right social media sites, either. Apparently, it’s a crime to not give Elon Musk your advertising dollars. Republican attorneys general are also using antitrust laws to silence corporate activism on issues like climate change.

Paxton and two dozen other Republican AGs also filed yet another anti-speech lawsuit, this one against against Yelp, for publishing information (that happened to also be true) that he believes to be critical of crisis pregnancy centers. As with the attack on Media Matters, the AGs are trying to silence the site under consumer protection laws. As the Reporters Committee for a Free Press warns, “The application of consumer protection laws in the context of editorial decisions — by any private speaker — is dangerous. And Texas has articulated no limiting principle that would preclude the application of the state’s consumer protection law against members of the press on a similar theory.”

Project 2025 also calls for prohibiting a list of terms and phrases from being published in any federal document. Incredibly, it also calls for retroactively removing those terms from existing documents. In the introduction to the blueprint, former Heritage head Kevin Roberts calls for the elimination of the terms “diversity, equity, and inclusion (“DEI”), gender, gender equality, gender equity, gender awareness, gender-sensitive, abortion, reproductive health, reproductive rights,” and, in a particularly Orwellian twist, “any other term used to deprive Americans of their First Amendment rights.” It’s striking just how quickly the right shifted from complaining about soft censorship and content moderation on social media sites to sheer joy over the prospect of using state power shutting down dissent and silence critics. After Musk purchased Twitter, he converted the enormously influential platform into a bustling Nazi bar and far-right arm of the Trump campaign. The site is all but unusable now. For all the right’s complaints about throttling and “shadow bans,” Musk’s prioritization of accounts that pay him has effectively shunted anyone who isn’t echoing Musk’s own politics to the margins. It also means the top replies to every post tend to be racist, bigoted, trollish, or grievance-fueled garbage.

More recently, Musk has been joking/not joking about purchasing MSNBC and converting it into yet another right-wing outlet. This — along with the editorial interference of newspapers owners who are worried about government sanctions of their other businesses, is also classic authoritarian maneuvering. In Russia, Putin quickly realized that he could control newspapers and media outlets two ways — by pressuring their owners’ other business interests, and just by having his oligarch cronies simply buy them up and convert them into government mouthpieces. (He soon found it was easier to just arrange for critical journalists to fall out of windows — a habit Trump has had difficulty criticizing.) The same thing is happening in Hungary under Orbán. Setting aside whether or not Musk could actually buy MSNBC, his mere mention of the idea had right-wing personalities salivating at the idea of subverting a leading left-of-center outlet into the right-wing echo chamber.

That glee stems from a belief that conservative voices have been silenced by left-wing control of the media. This is self-evidently false. It is true that those newsrooms that still attempt to be accurate and fair — to deliver “straight news” — are disproportionately left-leaning. But it’s also true that the right has successfully created its own media ecosystem that’s wholly independent of those newsrooms, and can now bypass them entirely to get information to its audience. The sheer giddiness on display from the people about to take over the government at the prospect of snuffing these newsrooms out is alarming. Adding to the problem, Project 2025 also calls for targeting public broadcasting. That’s a longtime conservative hobbyhorse, but it would do the most harm to local public radio — not the national NPR programs that irk conservatives — and it will hit hardest in areas that lack daily newspapers.

[...]

Finally, there’s the threat to nonprofits. Here, too, the Democrats have utterly failed to prepare for the gravity of the threat. Last month, 15 House Democrats joined Republicans to pass a bill called the Stop Terror-Financing and Tax Penalties on American Hostages Act. That’s far fewer than originally supported the law, which was introduced to target groups who advocate for Palestine. It was still 15 too many. The sweeping law would give the Treasury Secretary the power to unilaterally declare any nonprofit a “supporter of terrorism.” Trump could effectively shut down nonprofits for the flimsiest of reasons, from the ACLU to Planned Parenthood to ProPublica. Beyond the screaming unconstitutionality and general un-Americanness of it all, it’s just a breathtakingly stupid policy for any Democrat to support, especially just months before a man hellbent on vengeance and retribution takes over the White House.

The upcoming Trump Administration will be disaster for the freedom of speech, the freedom of the press, and the right to dissent without fear or intimidation.

#Trump Administration II #Donald Trump #Elon Musk #Freedom Of Speech #Freedom Of The Press #1st Amendment #Censorship #Brendan Carr #FCC #Project 2025 #New York Times v. Sullivan #J.D. Vance #Robert Kagan #Kash Patel #Pete Hegseth #Russ Vought

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milkydraws8 · 11 months ago

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The Public Defenders, an informal group of New York businesses that look out for the little guy

Matthew 'Matt' Murdock of Nelson and Murdock, a struggling small-time legal firm. Beloved and broke for his near-suicidal opposition to the various mobs and penchant for hopeless pro-bono work. Outspoken against the so-called 'Devil of Hell's Kitchen'.

Daniel 'Danny' Rand, ex-boy millionaire back from the dead. Claims to have trained with mystical monks in an ancient magical temple. Lost his legacy to his father's company, doesn't seem to care. Has a killer right hook.

Lucas 'Luke' Cage, ex-con and almost-murdered inmate at Seagate Penitentiary. Got a new lease on life and an old lease on a barbershop. Never been much of a leader but apparently he's kinda good at it. Currently the biggest pain in the ass for Harlem's criminal underworld. Has pretty thick skin.

Jessica Jones. Not sure what she's doing. Obviously a lot less of a hard-ass than she tries to present herself as. Surprisingly good at soft-skills. Can hold her liquor.

Jennifer Walters. Loudest one in the room. Pretty sensational, almost greasy lawyer. Never does anything egregiously against the law. Actually could be doing a lot worse, although she could be doing a lot better. Having way too much fun to change. Has a famous cousin.

Mercedes "Misty" Knight. About this 🤏 close from losing her badge and gun. About this close 👌 from losing her arm. Got a mechanical replacement, luckily.

#marvel #the defenders #public defenders #daredevil #matt murdock #iron fist #danny rand #luke cage #jennifer walters #she hulk #jessica jones #misty knight #my art #earth 802

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garglyswoof · 7 months ago

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Fragile Things

ao3 For @kastleexchange Come What May Day 1, "What Could Be" The first thing they say to each other in Daredevil: Born Again. Please note i have no clue what canon is anymore, except (hopefully) in terms of characterization. She knows it can’t last, like it’s a truce the world has temporarily granted, fragile and held together by the most tenuous of things. A house of cards, really, and she eyes it warily, even as Matt’s let down his own guard now that Fisk isn’t around. No one has stepped up to the plate to organize criminal activity on the scale Fisk had managed, his empire ran haphazardly by lesser minds, as lesser threats.

So yes, Matt has let them in more, her and Foggy, now that his nightly excursions seem almost too easy. Not that they don’t leave him bruised and battered, but he seems less afraid of pulling his friends in when there’s not a criminal mastermind behind them, just poor attempts at the throne.

Still, she‘s tense that whole spring, into summer, then the fall, waiting and watching that house of cards. The Jack of Hearts looks a little bit like Foggy, who’d grown a goatee and then shaved it off in favor of just a mustache despite Karen needling him mercilessly for it.

“Karen, I’m going through my eras of TV Hunk. We’re in the Tom Selleck phase, do you know how many women swooned over his mustache? I will not be bound by societal changes.”

“Does Marci like it?”

He glances sidelong at her, pauses then lets out a defeated sigh. “Yes, or you know it would be gone in 30 seconds.”

“Ok I’ll work on her. Every time you come into the office I picture you sliding across the hood of a 70s muscle car like you’re in Magnum P.I. and I can’t take you seriously.”

“Reminds me of that time when Fr--” Foggy stops himself, but she knows.

“Yeah,” she says softly, her eyes flicking up to meet his gaze then leave it. “Yeah it does.”

It would be a lie to say she didn’t think about Frank, but Murdock, Nelson and Page had been a good distraction this last year. Setting up the firm, finding a new office in the Kitchen, and just playing serious legal catch-up to the two avocados at law were enough to keep thoughts of him to a dull roar (she’d bought them little namesakes, glass-blown ones with painted-on sunglasses and a mustache, from a stall at one of those weekend art festivals that were always popping up around the city).

Still, at night when she tosses her keys on the side table and the lonely weight of her quiet apartment settles into her bones, she thinks of him. Of how he couldn’t look at her in that damned hospital room, eyes darting, of how he pushed her away with his own stubborn, selfish aims. Yeah. Yeah, she’ll have a lot to say to him, if she could.

But he’s been gone this past year, or maybe just terrorizing some other part of the country’s criminal organizations. Like she’d thought earlier, New York was missing some of its seedy underbelly these days. It’s why it worked, this house of cards.

It comes crashing down that Thursday night.

It had been a good day, Matt heading into court in the afternoon, Foggy finally breaking the industrious quiet by announcing he’s always wanted a putting green in his office.

Somehow that has evolved into a three-hole miniature golf course where the final hole is a ramp to Foggy’s blown-up face from an old political poster with the mouth cut out. Karen’s sides hurt from laughing as the city settles into the dark of evening.

“Wow, you really suck at this,” Foggy laughs.

“I did not know I needed to practice -” she bursts into giggles -”putting a ball - oh god - p-putting a ball into your m-mouth”.

Foggy loses it too until a text buzzes both their phones. They both sober up from the laughter, each thinking the same thought as they reach for their mobiles. Matt’s been gone too long.

Sure enough, it’s a text from him, and Karen’s heart sinks from the vagueness of it.

Won’t be able to make it out tonight. You two have fun and see you in the a.m.

She looks up to see Foggy’s expression as he studies the words on the screen like an Ancient Text, the backlight and the now dim light in the office lending him a haggard expression. It's the first time she’s seen it in a year.

“He’ll be okay, Fogs.” She isn’t sure she believes it, but she says it anyway. She doesn’t think he believes it either, but he smiles all the same. She marvels, not for the first time, at how trauma is a form of time travel. Because despite the progress of this past year, her and Foggy both remember Matt, before, and they are right back there again in an instant.

Foggy’s expression almost breaks her heart as he nods and takes an absentminded last putt, the ball rolling up the braille legal book ramp and straight into the picture’s mouth.

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

Karen hasn’t changed a bit, despite all that’s happened, and she knows this is a bad idea but can’t stop herself all the same. She’d said goodbye to Foggy at the office doorway, mumbling something about cleaning up the casserole dish from one of their recent sliding scale (if you could call it that) clients. Foggy had been on the phone with Marci, but had paused - Karen’s heart aching with the kindness of him - for a moment, holding his hand over the speaker.

“You sure?” He'd mouthed before speaking in a whisper. “This isn’t about Matt, right?”

She’d shrugged her shoulders. She wasn’t going to lie about that, at least. “Maybe it is, but it’s okay. I just want to have some time to think, and scrubbing cheese off this casserole dish will sadly give me time.”

He’d left then, with one worried glance backwards. She’ll have to keep an eye on her phone tonight, she’s willing to bet he’ll at least text to check in on her.

It had been the silences from Matt that had scared them the most. She isn’t doing that to Foggy.

Still, she’s pretty sure he wouldn’t approve of her rifling through Matt’s files, her notes, and the Bulletin trying to triangulate where the hell Daredevil is off to tonight. She figures it out when she sees the line in the local crime beat from last week, from a paper she hadn’t yet let herself start reading again until now.

Ex-FBI Officer Charged with Death of Priest, FBI Officer Escapes From Prison

She drops the paper and scrambles to her desk, pulling out the drawer that holds her purse, shaking, and grabs her gun, her breath ragged in the quiet of the office, the gun almost sucking the light out of the room, matte black. She stares at it for a moment before raising it in both hands, her feet unconsciously shifting apart to ground her. She feels the trigger under her finger, safety still on, she knows, and she presses the trigger once, twice, three times, over and over until her face crumples and she slides to the floor.

She doesn’t give herself much time to let the pain rule her, she never does. If Bullseye is back, then that’s what Matt is looking into, and she knows he’ll need help despite not wanting it. Not to mention she has a score to settle with that psycho. Her hand shakes as she locks the office up until she stares at her fingers, willing them to calmness.

The church still looms taller than her faith, which isn’t hard to manage, she thinks wryly. The night holds an early fall chill, a breeze off the river teasing the hairs at the nape of her neck where her hair is pulled into a low ponytail. Quiet rules the street with the church lit gently by low exterior lights as she eyes the windows and tries not to think about the past. She’s almost about to give up, thinking that she’s guessed wrong, when she sees the heavy front door shift. A figure darts through, too broad-shouldered to be Matt, she thinks, then the door shuts without a noise and she’s staring into a face lit lowly for just a second before the man ducks into the shadows.

Frank. She’s frozen there, on the sidewalk, and she knows it’s the stupidest thing for her to do so she darts off the path onto the grass that edges the church’s lot. She’s not sure if he’s seen her, and can’t spot him anymore in the darkness, and she has a moment to think - god how on earth did he just disappear like that? before he’s in front of her, finger to his lips at her impending shriek of surprise, his face familiarly blood-spattered and sporting an almost goofy grin. It doesn’t make sense, any of it, and she stares at him in confusion as he tugs her hands into his, holding her out like he wants to look at her, take stock, that grin lowering like a sail as his eyes grow more intense and how can he be so casual and what is going on and -

“Ma’am,” he says, his tone teasing.

She relaxes, because there can’t be any danger here if he’s acting like that, but then tensing back up because honestly, what the hell?

He must see it in her face because he rumbles an apology. ‘M’sorry. Just…seeing you like that, reminded me of…” he trails off, dropping her hands to tug at his hood in mimicry of his beggar routine. That happened forever ago, but he still remembers. So does she. “And you’re still all heart, I don’t even need to ask.”

Something about the way he says it, almost proprietarily, pisses her off. Her eyes flash in the shadows they’ve found themselves in, pulling deeper in as a car passes and breaks the silence with loud, low bass. “Yeah, Frank? What clued you in there?”

She wants him to say it. Doesn’t want to have to spell it out.

His head punches back slightly, taking the blow. He changes the subject, or maybe it’s still the same one. “I came back as soon as I heard. The church’s been clean so far, surprised though. Guy like that usually wants to win where he lost.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought too,” Karen admits. “So what’s with the blood?”

He touches his face, as if reminding himself. “Research.”

She almost laughs.

“Where’s Red?” He rasps out.

“This was me trying to find him,” she says and watches his face soften out of the corner of her eye.

“I’m sorry, Karen.”

She waits, staring down at where the grass, wet from the day’s watering, sticks to her sneakers.

He clears his throat. “I wasn’t there for you when he came after you the first time. Fuckin' killed me to hear about it. Killed me to know you were hurt and scared and I wasn’t around to help.”

He’s not saying the right things, but they’re still good ones. She smiles a timid smile, glances up and lets him give her what he can. She’s got a year of therapy on one Frank Castle under her belt. “It’s okay, Frank.”

She knows he wants to say more, say something about the hospital. She pulls him in for a hug, kisses his cheek in a spot bare of blood. Maybe she’s the one that isn’t ready this time.

“It’s okay.”

She feels his lips on her neck, a brief chapped kiss, before he pulls back and stares into her eyes like he’s trying to solve her mystery.

“I just want to find Matt, Frank. Make sure he’s okay.”

Maybe he hears it in her voice, the unspoken later, maybe he just senses the urgency.

“Alright then, let’s go.” He grabs her hand again, pulls his hood up with another. She’s so in shock that she doesn’t move until he starts tugging. He looks back at her, casually throws back, “You’re going to do it anyway. At least I can keep an eye on you this way.”

It both pisses her off and makes her smile. Her feelings are never black and white for Frank Castle, but it definitely seems like he’s accepted some things about her, at least. She squeezes his hand that dwarfs her own, callused and warm, and follows him away from the church, into the heart of the city.

#kastle #kastle fanfiction #kastleexchange #kastlenetwork #kastle ff #the punisher #daredevil

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amberlynnmurdock · 2 years ago

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Blind Faith

Chapter 1: My Savior

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader

Summary: One college-drunken night, you didn't expect to be saved by the man in the mask. You didn't expect him to agree to walk you home, either. You especially didn't expect to enter into an affair with the masked vigilante. That's what happens when you follow faith blindly. You let yourself fall in love, with someone who won't even tell you who he is. On top of pining for the Devil of Hell's Kitchen, you have to graduate NYU, take the LSAT, keep this secret, manage your social life and an internship at a law firm named Nelson & Murdock.

Warnings for this chapter: attempted assault, drug use, mentions of alcohol

New York City

Midnight

A grayish fog hovered over the streets of Hell’s Kitchen. Shining lights were now dimmed as stores were just starting to close. Yes, it was midnight, and stores were still open. But this was New York City, and it just made sense. Although some businesses were ready to close up for the night, others were just opening. As the day crowd shuffled on home, the night crowd was heading out. They consisted of many different groups: from college students to socialites, to white-collar business people to criminals—all out for the very same reason: simply because it was New York City.

You fell under the college student category. This was your last semester at New York University and you weren’t going to waste any weekend—or weeknight, in this case—to go out drinking with your friends. You only ever regretted it at the very end of the night, when you were laying down in bed and the room was still spinning, or hugging a toilet bowl. For you, it wasn’t the end of the night; it was the beginning.

“Here we are,” your friend, Emily, announced. The auburn-haired girl scrambled in her leather purse for a pass for you and your friends to show the bouncer, who stood at probably six feet and wore a leather jacket. “Our promoter’s name is Cain,” she yelled at the bouncer over the music booming inside.

Without a smile, he checked her pass from Cain and nodded his head.

“IDs,” he demanded.

The four of you all pulled out your IDs. When you reached for your wallet from your purse, it was then you realized how buzzed you already felt. Your other friend, Bella, giggled next to you as she accidentally dropped her wallet on the ground. There was a difference between accidentally dropping something and drunkenly dropping something. You laughed with her and nudged your waist into hers.

After calmly showing the bouncer your IDs, the four of you gracefully entered the club, the muffled music from outside now blasting in your ears. Now that you were all 21 with graduation on the horizon, there wasn’t any worrying anymore about fake IDs. You could come and go to bars as you pleased.

“Let’s get some shots!” Emily shouted. You all walked in a single file but held onto each other’s hands as you navigated the sea of people dancing on the floor. Navigating the crowd didn’t come without being shoved, which is why you all held onto each other. You gripped Bella’s hand tightly as she followed behind you, making sure she wouldn’t get pulled away.

The music was so loud you could feel it reverberate in your heart. Good thing you decided to wear your black boots, too. If you had chosen to go with heels, your toes might’ve been stepped on in this crowd. You consciously pulled down your black mini skirt since it rose a bit from walking.

“Four shots of Casamigos, please!” You shouted at the woman bartender who leaned over to hear your order. She nodded in response and gave a thumbs up, immediately grabbing a bottle and lining up four shot glasses. You gave her your card to open a tab.

Your other friend, Hannah, squeezed your arms in excitement.

“Fuck finals!” She screamed. You laughed before taking your shot with the girls. After ordering another round of shots, the four of you began your night of dancing, drinking, and partying like you didn’t have to wake up early for any exam.

~~~

As the night went on, the drinks didn’t stop. Neither did the dancing nor the dodging of drunk men trying and failing to flirt with you and your friends. You and Emily went to the bathroom together to ensure the other was safe, even if one of you didn’t have to go. Bella and Hannah stayed put at the corner of the bar.

In the bathroom, girls lined up waiting for their turn in the stalls. You managed to squeeze by them to get to the mirrors because you didn’t have to go. Arriving at the mirror, you were pleasantly surprised with how well your makeup had held up. Your hair was messy from dancing but after flipping it twice, you styled it again. You adjusted your black top, too, pulling it up a bit.

The girl in the mirror next to you was bent over, so you couldn’t see her face. Just as you were about to lean over and ask if she was okay, she flipped her head up and took a big sniff. Ahh. You realized. She’s doin’ okay.

When Emily was done, the two of you exited the bathroom and reentered the club. You found your other friends and ordered one last round of shots before you called it a night. It was a successful night—you all managed to keep each other within a good distance, you danced, you turned down gross men and their attempts at flirting—now all that was left was to get back to your apartment building safely. Easy.

“Just one more song!” Hannah begged, and it didn’t take much convincing for the rest of you to agree. Your heart banged against your chest as you danced along to the last song of the night, definitely on a different level than you were at the start.

The only downside to going out was dressing for the weather at the beginning of the night, and not anticipating that it would drop a few degrees by the end of the night. Thankfully, being in a stuffy club with lots of other people and dancing made you work up a sweat and essentially get hot. When you walked out into the 50-degree weather, it felt like a comfortable 60 degrees. Still, the chill coated your bones immediately, and you started to dream of your bed. Your ears were ringing from the loud music, and you stumbled a bit walking.

The apartment building was only eight blocks from the club. The four of you linked arms and began your trek home, laughing and talking about the night you just had.

“That guy was so gross, Bella,” Hannah laughed, “I can’t believe he had the audacity to think just because he bought me a drink I’d go home with him. The fucking nerve some guys have.”

“Seriously,” you agreed, “not to mention when his phone lit up, ‘Boo-Boo’ had just texted him."

“Ugh, what is wrong with men?” Bella groaned.

And in the middle of your conversation, your heart dropped to the bottom of your stomach upon realization. Your card.

“Oh, shit, guys,” you cursed, stopping in your tracks which caused your friends to stop as well. “I forgot to close my tab and get my card back!”

“Oh no,” Emily said, “can’t you get it tomorrow? Do you really need it now?”

“This club doesn’t open until 11 PM. It’s now or never,” you shook your head, annoyed at yourself for being so forgetful. “I’ll go grab it and meet you guys back at the apartment.”

“No way,” Bella argued, “you can’t go back alone! Let me go with you.”

“No, it’s okay,” you protested. It was already almost two in the morning, and you knew all of you had exams at eight. It was dark out and late, but you were only four blocks away. You’d sprint back and take that as a punishment for your forgetfulness. “Seriously! I’ll be fine. There are lots of people around here anyway. We all have an early exam, I don’t want to be the reason we flunk our senior year.”

Your friends seemed unsure, but you assured them you were 100% okay with going back alone. Perhaps you were a bit buzzed, but not too much you wouldn’t be able to find your way home. With that, your three friends sauntered back home as you turned around to go back to the club.

~~~

Getting back inside the club wasn’t hard since people were starting to trickle out. The upbeat pop music had transitioned into lo-fi beats by the DJ. Without so many people standing shoulder to shoulder on the floor, you were shocked to see how open and big the floor really was. You made a beeline for the bar and found the bartender you spoke with earlier in the night. She had bleach-blonde hair and a septum piercing.

“I saw you and your friends get outta here quick. Wanted to stop you but, y’know,” now that the music had faded, you could hear her thick New York accent. You smiled and shrugged your shoulders.

“I know, that’s why I rushed back. I didn’t want to short you!”

“If you hadn’t come back, we would’ve put an automatic 20% tip anyway,” she reasoned. Without asking, she poured you a glass of water.

Signing the receipt and slipping the card back into your wallet, you smiled at her.

“Well, here’s thirty percent.”

“Thanks, babe,” she graciously took the receipt. “Your friends outside? It’s pretty late for you to be alone.”

You waved a hand, dismissing her and finishing the water to help sober you up. “I’ll be fine. Only eight blocks away from home.”

“Sheesh. You say that like it’s two. Take this,” she slid you a tiny pink contraption, which you realized was a can of mace. You slid it into your purse quickly.

“Thank you, I appreciate it.”

“Now get home safe,” she demanded.

“You too!”

Turning around from the bar, it was evident the club was closing up for the night. The normal lights came on, which brought about a whole new vibe to the place. Only a few partiers lingered, while the rest made their exit. You weren’t concerned at all walking home since you saw the crowds of people. And you weren’t being naive either, or so you convinced yourself. You’ve lived in New York for the past four years—you weren’t scared of it anymore.

Walking outside, it was unfortunate to see the crowds of people walking the opposite way you were going. Looking to your right, towards midtown, you could see the lights and large crowds of people huddling together, rushing to get home. To your left was a different story: darkness loomed ahead, and only two or three small groups were walking in the distance. The only light came from the dim orange street lamps that barely brought a glow. Bracing yourself, you took a deep breath and kept your finger on the mace the bartender had given you.

Okay, maybe it was a little spooky walking home alone. But you walked at a fast pace. You wrapped your arms around yourself in an attempt to keep from shivering. You wished you’d brought a jacket.

As if a higher power had nudged something in your subconscious, you looked up from the sidewalk and saw three men loitering at a corner of a building. They had their backs against the brick wall, with their hands in their pockets, like they were waiting for something or someone. Knowing better, you crossed the street to avoid walking past them.

You heard one of them say something, but you couldn’t make out what it was. Your pace quickened, as did your heartbeat. Suddenly, it didn’t feel so cold anymore. The adrenaline you felt from walking away from them had sent your body into a panic. An unpleasant hot feeling spread across your chest, yet your arms still shivered from the cold. It was suddenly getting harder to breathe, as you walked against the wind.

“Hey!” One of them shouted. “It’s not lady-like to run away.”

The only way you could describe how you felt at this moment was like being trapped inside a dream—no, nightmare—where you felt like you were capable of breaking free of something, say a locked car, but things out of your control forced you to stay put. It was like trying to yell the word No! at someone but you couldn’t for the life of you find your voice. It was like wanting to hit back at someone in your dream, but your arm felt like it weighed 100 tons. It was like falling, as you did now, and not being able to get back up.

You took a harsh fall on the pavement, tripping over some uneven sidewalk. Your knees scratched the sidewalk harshly and immediately started burning from the sensation. You dropped your bag and turned to face your attackers, helpless.

“Oh, she’s already ready for us, with her legs spread in that little skirt,” another one of them growled. You tried to back up and stand up but a third was behind you, who lifted you from behind your shoulders and gripped you.

“Let me go!” You struggled against the man who reeked of rum and cigarettes. His cold leather jacket was on top of your bare skin—you felt like an animal being dissected. The more you struggled against him, the tighter he held on. He kicked your knees from behind, causing your legs to go weak so now you knelt in his grasp.

“Who’s first?” One of them smiled a twisted smile. His hand held onto his crotch aggressively, getting himself ready.

“Let me fucking go! Help!” Your voice sounded hoarse, scared. These were the assholes you weren’t supposed to be afraid of—they weren’t supposed to win.

“Let her go.”

A fourth voice came from somewhere behind the two men who stood before you. For a moment, you thought it was one of their cronies who was acting selfishly and wanted you first, but from the looks of the men, you knew the voice didn’t belong to their kind. The two men in front of you parted, revealing a man dressed in all black, with a black mask covering half his face. He held two wooden sticks.

“Don’t make me say it again,” the man demanded in an oddly calm voice.

“Come and get her, asshole. You might have to wait. I don’t take too long,” the man who gripped you held on even tighter. You yelped in his grasp and tried to kick out of his hold on you.

The man in the mask acted quickly. Before you knew it, one of the wooden sticks in his hands was thrown at the man to your left, who fell, holding his face where the stick impacted him. The man in the mask seamlessly kicked the other guy on the right, who tried to lunge at him. He threw him to the ground like he was nothing more than a ball. The man who held you suddenly pulled something out of his pocket: a switchblade.

“Hey!” His grimy voice echoed in the air. The man in the mask turned his head menacingly, slowly. The man who held you placed the switchblade on your neck. You gasped as you tried to sink away from the sharp blade tickling your skin. “I ain’t care if she’s dead when I do it.”

The man in the mask punched the guy in front of him to stay down. The one behind was knocked out.

The man in the mask slowly turned around to face you and your captor. You tried to break free of his grasp again but failed. He pressed the front of the blade to your neck more harshly this time.

Before you could even react, the man in the mask lunged a wooden stick at the man’s face, hitting him square in the face. He dropped his switchblade in pain and you took this as your attempt to escape, this time succeeding. You stood by the side and quickly grabbed your purse on the ground. You watched as your savior, you thought you’d call him, punched the man in the face, repeatedly, until he fell down unconscious. Your savior grunted with each blow, making sure the man was knocked out.

Out of breath, your savior slowly stood up from kneeling on the man’s chest and turned in your direction. Your heart was beating uncontrollably now, completely shaken from your attempted attack. An attack that fell through, because the man in the masked saved you. You didn’t know what to say. You were shivering, but not from the cold.

“Are you okay?” He asked you as he took a step forward. You flinched unnaturally, only because you were still on edge. When he saw you flinch, he stopped in his footsteps immediately. “I won’t hurt you.”

“I know,” you replied, wanting him to know you were grateful. “I’ll… I’ll be okay.” Nothing like that had ever happened to you. He gave you a nod and grabbed his wooden sticks on the ground, tucking them into his pockets. “Thank you… so much.”

He pressed his lips together in response.

“You shouldn’t be out this late alone, a young woman like you,” he had caught his breath by now and spoke softly.

“I’d argue men like that shouldn’t be able to walk out at night freely, so young women like me could feel safer,” you couldn’t help but say in response. You shivered in the cold and hugged your arms around your body. “But I guess that’s why you’re here. You know, I think I remember reading about you in the papers. Girls on my campus feel safer knowing you may be out there.” He hummed in response.

“Thank you,” you repeated yourself, unsure if he heard you the first time you said it. “I was really scared. I don’t know what would’ve happened if you didn’t show.”

“No need to thank me,” he waved his hand in response. “I…no need. Take care of yourself, okay?” He began to walk away, his black silhouette beginning to look like a shadow. You called after him in protest, before he could get any farther.

“Hey, wait!” You called. He stopped in his tracks and turned his head to look at you.

“You said it yourself it’s not safe for women like me to be out here alone,” you began, “will you walk me home?” Part of you wouldn’t admit it, but you were still too scared to walk alone.

He paused for a good thirty seconds you thought, like you knew he was really thinking about it. The best part about being a pre-law student was that in situations like this, you got to put your knowledge to the test. He did technically just testify he believes women like me shouldn’t be out here alone. If he really believed it, he’d follow through.

You could’ve sworn you saw a hint of a smile on his face. But without seeing his eyes, and the night being as black as his mask, you really couldn’t tell.

He didn’t say anything back, but you took his turning around and walking toward you as a response that said yes.

~~~

Matt Murdock didn’t walk the people he saved home very often, but you brought up a valid point that he couldn’t really say no.

“Lead the way,” he spoke in a low voice as he walked to you. He could hear your heartbeat—it was still beating fast, without rhythm, meaning you were still scared.

Matt walked with you at first in silence. He used this time to put a picture in his head: why were you out so late? And alone?

He noticed the smell of liquor and sweat on your skin first. You mentioned a campus before, so he immediately knew you were in your early 20s. By the sound of your shoes—boots—hitting the pavement, you must’ve been dressed up for something. Or, dressed down, on second thought. Your legs and arms were shivering from the cold—you were in a skirt. And, a sleeveless top. Ahh, he thought in his head. I remember my days of college partying, too.

Still, he wondered where your friends were. Were you really out here alone?

And as if you’d read his mind, you spoke.

“You know, I wasn’t alone this entire night,” you explained. “I was with my friends earlier. We went to a club, just down the street. I forgot my card there and needed to go back.”

“Why didn’t any of them go with you?”

“I told them not to. We all have early exams in the morning. I didn’t want to keep anyone out later than they had to be.”

“And going to a club at midnight isn’t too late?” Matt couldn’t help but pry, lightheartedly, with a small smile.

“I know what you’re thinking,” you replied, “but it’s our senior year. You know, senioritis. We’re all over it. And we don’t want to pass up any opportunities to go out. Did you go to college?”

Matt didn’t respond. He kept walking with you.

“Ahh,” you said in realization, “forgot. Vigilantes are supposed to remain mysterious.”

Matt didn’t respond.

“You know, vigilantism is really backward? What you did for me—which I am eternally grateful for, by the way—is still illegal.”

Matt couldn’t help but smile in response. He nodded.

“I know. Hence the mask,” he replied.

“Of course. You cover your face so you don’t get caught acting outside the law. Even though it may be for the greater good,” you thought aloud.

“You… are you studying law?” Matt asked, despite himself.

“I am!” You replied excitedly, “How could you tell?”

He didn’t respond. You continued.

“When I graduate, I intend to take the LSAT, and immediately apply for Columbia Law.”

Matt raised his eyebrows, which you couldn’t see.

“Hey, as a vigilante, do you know any lawyers? I might need some letters of recommendation for that,” you chided. Matt chuckled softly.

“I—“

“Oh, right, forgot. Secrecy, and vigilantism. Mystery. How do you make any friends?” It was then Matt realized you may still have been a bit buzzed.

“I tend to keep people away when I’m dressed like this.”

“Hmm,” you replied.

Silence filled the space between you again. Matt could hear you slightly yawn. In your purse, he sensed a can of cheap mace. When you moved your arms, Matt caught a whiff of your fragrance. He couldn’t put his finger on what it was, but it was sweet. Like, marshmallows.

After another block, you slowed your speed, and Matt was content to know you weren’t scared anymore. Not scared in his presence, not scared at all. Your heartbeat had fallen to its normal rhythm. Your breathing was soft.

“This is it,” you announced, stopping in front of your apartment building.

Matt lingered in the shadows, against the wall of the building. He knew the security guard was at his desk inside. When you realized he was hiding, you couldn’t help but laugh.

“You’re so dramatic,” you giggled. Matt didn’t find it funny, but he was amused at your entertainment.

“My savior,” you spoke softly, just for him to hear. “Thank you again. Perhaps I should get myself into more trouble.”

Matt shook his head, “I’m not a savior. And don’t get yourself into trouble. Study. And good luck with law school.”

“I said you are my savior. There is a difference,” you argued. Matt noticed you did that a lot—argued. He smiled—it’s something he doesn’t do very often when dressed like this.

“Be safe,” he pleaded.

“__,” you said your name. Matt was caught off guard by your introduction. “I don’t have to know your name, but you can know mine. My name is __.”

“Be safe, __,” he repeated.

“I will. And you do the same.”

With that, Matt heard you shuffle for your keycard. You entered your building. Matt waited on the side of the building for you to go up the elevator, to the 11th floor, swipe your card to your apartment and lock the door behind you. After that, he stopped listening. He knew you were safe. He exhaled sharply and slumped his shoulders against the brick building.

He wasn’t a savior.

He disappeared into the night.

#matt murdock #BEEN A WHILE SINCE I WROTE FOR MATTY BOY #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock imagine #matt murdock fan fiction #matt murdock/reader #daredevil #charlie cox #charlie cox x reader #daredevil x reader #blind faith #charlie cox fan fiction #matt murdock fic

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communicationthroughlyrics · 1 year ago

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I Got a Secret, So I'ma Drop 'Em to the Floor

Years of observation had you watching the redhead from afar- wishing, hoping, that someday you could get past your one night stands for her.

8.1K Word Count

A/N: Welp, here it is, sorry for dragging it out so long, I've been hella sick of late. Enjoy, and Merry Chrysler!

TW: daddy kink, strap on use, poorly translated Russian, face riding, angst and mutual pining, nat being a total pillow princess because she deserves it, edging. 18+

You hated this time of year. The pomp and circumstance of the holidays never sat well with you- never feeling like you had

anything worth celebrating. You were always dedicated to work first and never gave yourself the time for more than a meaningless fling. The seemingly forced happiness many coworkers at your workplace exuded, mixed with the obligatory Christmas parties, one of which you were currently getting ready for. You had no desire to attend, but the obligation of this being your business made it necessary. The buzzing of your phone on the right bedside table told you that someone had texted- presumably your assistant, Kate.

You were lucky- you were running the only all-female partner-led law firm in New York. You, being the original, founding member, a prodigal law student from Stanford University, finishing your Masters in Criminal Law in an unheard of 3 years out of high school, and being brought up under the tutelage of Matt Murdock before breaking out of the Nelson and Murdock firm and starting your own. With much criticism at your decision to leave the best law firm in the state, you were met with unfathomable backlash, people trying to make it impossible for your firm to succeed, but your mentor knew what being the underdog meant, how hard it was, and was in your corner the entire way.

Within the matter of a half-decade, you became one of the most highly sought-after lawyers in the state and had a legion of powerful women behind you as partners in your law firm, and with that- you had the only truly all-female law firm in the state, and most likely the country. Y/L/N, Sharpe, Book, and Walters were the best of the best. You also had a slew of “up and coming” hotshot female lawyers, people always seemed to pick apart the penchant you had for dynamic, jaw-droppingly attractive, and authoritative women. Your love life was nothing for any outsider to envy- you hardly dated, just fooled around with whatever poor, unsuspecting should fall into your allure, your uncanny ability to entice and ensnare even the most savvy and discerning women.

Glancing at your phone, you were correct in seeing Kate's name flashing on your screen, a quick text is sent to confirm that you were, in fact, on your way to the holiday party. You peered over your shoulder, seeing the myriad of Christmas lights mixed with city lights, overlooking the holiday festivities being had in Central Park. Grasping the green pinstripe suit jacket and flinging it over the shoulder of your cream-colored turtleneck-clad frame, you made your way down to where your driver was waiting for you. Hopping into the back of the blacked-out SUV, and made your way towards the meatpacking district, to STK, where you had been able to cover the operating costs of the restaurant for the night, and then some, to ensure the restaurant was only full of employees of your large firm. A few members had ‘decorated’ the restaurant as if everyone attending didn’t already know the impending holiday was the reason for the party.

You could hear the overwhelmingly jolly music blaring from the interior of the restaurant as you arrived- you only let yourself indulge in the musical accompaniments of the season on the holiday itself, any more than that seemed to be too much. Bracing for what was behind the door, you pulled your arms through the sleeves of your coat, taking a deep breath and allowing yourself to exhale, watching the cold air around you transform your warm breath into opaque clouds.

“Is the big, bad attorney afraid of a little festive fun?”

You rolled your eyes in response as you turned to face the source of the voice. One of your aspiring partners, Wanda, stood behind you. With her signature head tilt and smirk, she was looming on your heels, arms crossed. She looked stunning in an all-black suit, her blazer not leaving much to the imagination as there was nothing on underneath. Of course, you knew what was underneath, you had already slept with her, to say it was a shock when she walked into your office a few days later, announcing she was the new junior attorney was an understatement. She had tried many times to get back in bed with you, but you never broke the 2-night rule. There was only one person that you consider ever breaking that rule for the one woman in the office you hadn’t seen completely bare- Natasha Romanoff. She was the only person in the office to give you a run for your money, and she could go toe to toe with your antics. She had arguably bed just as many as you, and most certainly wasn’t shy about it.

“No, Maximoff. There’s a difference between fear and hatred. I hate the holidays.” You snark back, her tutting at her revelation.

“Oh, Y/L/N, you should never tell others what gets under your skin. Now, come come, let’s go inside. It’s freezing out here.” She loops her arm in yours, leading you to the door of the chophouse. You let her lead you towards the door, withdrawing your area from hers as you walked inside, taking in the dull roar of the crowd now occupying the space, various shades of red, gold, green, and silver smattered throughout, with pine boughs and wreaths adorning the columns in the space, and various ornaments and a fairly large Christmas tree nestled in the far corner, surrounded by the gift boxes that held everyone Christmastime bonus, meticulously wrapped by your assistant. Wanda quickly made her way to a group of junior litigators who were clustered at the end of the bar. One thing you will give the redhead credit for, she certainly held the presence of being a bonafide partner, she never once acted like a timid junior who was afraid of fucking up.

As you wormed your way through the crowd, you stopped time and time again, everyone thanking you for the party or feigning interest by asking your plans for the holidays, some of the plus ones asking where your significant other was, some of the elder employees shocked you hadn’t a girlfriend, let alone a date. By the time you had made your way to the partner’s table, the amused look on Jennifer’s face made it obvious to your disdain for the social interaction. She handed you a glass, your gaze questioning its contents as the dark brown liquid swirled around the martini glass.

“It’s an espresso martini, Y/N. Relax. You need to loosen up.” Her eyes went wide as you slammed the booze back, smiling as you set the glass onto a passing waiter’s tray. “Jesus, I didn’t mean like that…”

“Relax, Jenn,” you snarked, mocking the tone she used with you. You slowly made your way around the table, greeting and talking to everyone, before turning around as she walked in the padded front doors.

“You have a little bit of something…there, ya know?” Kate whispered at you, motioning at her bottom lip as you watched the woman make her way through the restaurant, her gaze briefly shooting your way, smirking as she gave you a once over. You think you may have stopped breathing, between her all-white suit with her auburn hair that you honestly just wanted to see stuck to her forehead covered in sweat, you dreamed of seeing her panting and what her moans would sound like and had to shake yourself out of it, quickly turning the other direction and flagging a waitress down for a drink. After smacking Kate and telling her to leave you alone, you flashed a bright smile at the woman who took your drink order, her shy smile causing you to laugh as you made your way toward your seat, planning on ordering your dinner so you could give everyone their token seasonal package and then the sooner you could be home, with your lingering thoughts of the redhead meandering from table to table, laughing and talking to various people throughout the room.

***

You couldn’t help but notice throughout the night that she made her way around to every single person, including the partners, everyone except for you. Dismissing the behavior of the flirtatious redhead, you made your way to the bar, having given your speech to congratulate everyone on the banner year and wanting a repeat performance, blah, blah, blah. You began to hit on the ridiculously attractive barkeep, flirting your way to her remaining down at the end of the bar you sat, blushing at the remarks you would make as she kept you well hydrated.

“Well, Y/N, you can certainly put a holiday party together. I can’t say the same for your speeches.” Your breath caught ever so slightly, and you rolled your eyes, turning to the redhead beside you.

“Happy fucking Holidays to you too, Romanoff. Also, probably not how you should be talking to your boss.” You smirk, taking a sip of your drink before setting the drink back down on the marble bar top. You took in the woman standing next to you, her red locks curled and flowing over her shoulder, the white suit with her gold rings and necklaces, and white heels that still didn’t bring her quite to your height. You imagined the look of those necklaces dangling in your face as she rode your strap to oblivion, her hair in a curtain surrounding your face. You took another sip of your drink, watching the woman’s every move.

“Well, boss, considering how you’ve been eye-fucking me all night, I think I should get a pass.” You almost spit out your drink at the remark.

“What the hell are you going on about, Romanoff?” She left you speechless by the bar, winking after receiving her drink. She made her way to the makeshift dance floor on the other side of the restaurant, where she rocked and swayed with her drink and the music. She kept her distance, but her gaze was piercing through you no matter where you ended up at the party. After a few more drinks, you had finally loosened up enough to dance around with the music some, but it wasn’t anywhere near how you wanted to be dancing, nor who you wanted to be dancing with. Thinking that one more drink wouldn’t hurt, you stood at the bar, waiting for the new bartender to make you your drink. You had been hoping for the same smoke-show blonde to be behind the counter, but she had left, and someone else- who most definitely wasn’t her- was manning it now.

“Don’t look so disappointed, Y/N.” a voice resonated through the music from behind you.

“I can’t help it, I wanted something to do when I got home tonight…” you answered, the alcohol at this point not helping you to filter what probably should and should not be said at a work function you are throwing. You missed the look of disappointment on the face of the woman behind you.

“Something, or someone?” they spoke over the music, right into the shell of your ear. Goosebumps erupted across your body at the breath fanning across the side of your face.

“Someone,” you answer, turning around to face the frame behind you, putting yourself ungodly close to Natasha’s now shimmering body, an expression of amusement on your face. If there was one thing people (who stuck around) always seemed to be annoyed with, it was your gross ability to be extremely confident- borderline cocky, and acerbic the more you drank. You usually pissed more people off than you charmed as the night went on. But all that usually mattered was that someone was going to lay in your bed that night. And they would get railed senseless.

Your wandering gaze wasn’t missed by the redhead, but she was still slightly caught off guard by your remark, thinking you wanted the bartender to be your companion home. Natasha had been playing the long game- she had been pining after you since she saw you speak at a college seminar, you are the reason Natasha got into law. When you accepted her application as an intern junior associate, she thought she might explode. You had her working on a team with Jenn as her mentor. While she was disappointed she wasn’t on your team- she soon found out you didn’t have one. You worked alone. She has been working to gain your attention ever since, a small glimmer of her hoping you would once- just once- make an exception. She saw the “tough guy” charade, the playgirl demeanor, and frankly saw right through you. You had no idea, but Natasha could read you like a book.

“Don’t be such an ass, Y/L/N.” You scoff at the remark, putting your arms up.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa… Romanoff… do I sense some jealousy? Or did you have her on your to-do list as well?”

“Oh, please, Y/N. I am most certainly not jealous. And no, the blonde bimbo was not on my to-do list. Unlike some people I know, I don’t make it a sport to pass through every floozie in the 5 boroughs.”

“I don’t make it a sport, Romanoff. It just comes naturally. Besides… no one can handle me on the regular anyways.” You turn your back to the redhead, the bartender sliding you your drink. The booze didn’t stand a chance, you downed it in one gulp, wiping the back of your hand over your mouth, cleaning the corners of your lips with your thumb. You pretended not to notice the slight tint to the woman’s cheeks, and the small glimmer in her eyes as they darkened slightly at your actions. “Now, Romanoff. You can either join me for the after-party down the street, or you can shut the fuck up about my lifestyle.” You spoke into the woman’s ear as you stood more upright, having to bend over slightly to reach her pierced ear. “Maybe now, you can learn from the master…” you quip, digging at her antics of going toe to toe with your sexual prowess.

“Please, Y/L/N. If anyone is going to be learning anything, it isn’t me.” She snarked back, playing right into your hand. You pretended not to see her body shiver slightly as you spoke in her ear, but you knew you finally had her where you wanted her.

“Let’s go, Romanoff.” You grabbed the woman by her arm, leading her out a side door, where no one from the office could see. The brisk air was a shock to both of you, as you both let out a slight gasp at the chill in the mid-December air. You continued to walk, leading the woman to one of the few nightclubs you would allow yourself to frequent. Luckily, it was a short walk from STK, so you noticed the strobing and pulsating lights, and then you began to hear the dull thrum of the music from inside. It was bound to be packed- this was a Friday night, after all. You approached the bouncer, grabbed Natasha’s hand and he let you in front of all the people in line, recognizing you instantly.

“Come here often, I take it?” She asks as you get inside, dropping her hand to thread your arm around her waist, leading her to the bar.

“Yeah, you could say that.” You smile, flagging down one of the usual bartenders. He recognized you instantly and began to make you your usual drink. “What do you want, Romanoff?” You ask, placing your mouth right next to the redhead’s ear so she can hear the question over the music.

“Triple vodka and soda water, please.” She answers, watching you lean over the bar and give the barkeep your order. He smiled, nodded, and went to make her drink, going heavy on the pours.

“I know you like your vodka, Romanoff. You fucking Russians, I swear you drink that shit like it’s fucking water.” You cringed at the thought, handing her the glass that was mostly alcohol.

“Yeah, well there’s other things us fucking Russians like to do too. And please, call me Nat. You don’t need to use my last name like we’re in the fucking military.” She says as you sit at your usual table upstairs, in the corner, away from the dance floor. “You even have your table here? Who’d you pay off for that treatment?”

“No one. I’m always here, made friends with the owner. Now he treats me like a daughter.” You reply, taking a large swig of your drink, and unbuttoning a few of the buttons on your shirt, so you only have 3 buttons holding your shirt over your stomach. Natasha pretended not to watch as you unbuttoned them with one hand, as you watched the crowd, but you caught her stare. “See something you like, Nat?”

“Huh? Oh... no. Hell no. Just thinking.” She responded, quickly turning her head away, and taking a large drink of her poison before looking at the floor below. “Wanna dance? Christmas music is hard to get a rhythm to…” she asked, looking your way.

“No, I'm good. I’ll watch from up here, and see if someone catches my eye.” You wink, taking another sip of your drink as she nods and goes back downstairs, worming her way through the sea of bodies. She found a spot that you could just barely see, and you kept your eyes trained on her as it wasn’t long before she had a few guys come up to her.

You could see her turn them away, their dejected expressions showing that she didn’t let them down easily. But then, you recognized the woman approaching her as the bartender from the restaurant, and Natasha glanced at you before nodding as they started to dance. It started innocently enough, but as the songs faded from one to another, and the closer their bodies got. Soon, the redhead had her hands wrapped around the waist of the blonde, the blade’s arms around Nat’s neck. You could feel the bile rising in your throat, as not only the woman you wanted was too close to a woman you were trying to take home in her place. It was a sick, sick, game. Natasha would occasionally glance at you, ensuring that she was getting the rise she wanted out of you. She knew that this could very well be the tipping point- and may get her what she wanted most.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

You watched as the two seemed to get more affectionate as the night went on, and before you knew it, your body was involuntarily moving back to the bar, where you ordered a few shots, downing them back to back to back, before making your way onto the floor and finding someone that was dancing alone. You were sure to keep your gaze on or around Natasha, trying to monitor her every move. She was clenching her jaw at the brunette now “dancing” by you, but the poor thing was so drunk you could barely call her dancing a seizure. It looked embarrassing she was like a fish out of water, just flopping herself all over you and anyone who bothered to come near her. But Natasha still didn’t like it.

You moved around, going from woman to woman, dancing, and grinding, but never letting your envious gaze leave the woman you wanted the most. She was the same, now moving around from woman to woman, but her eyes always seemed to linger on yours. Finally, you felt like you had been goaded enough. You waited just long enough for her to push away from someone else, and as her back turned, you slid up behind her, slipping your hands around her waist, moving with the new song that was pulsating over the speakers.

“Having fun, are we?” You asked, pressing the woman’s back to your front, earning a slight gasp.

“I am, thank you.” She smirked, and god- that sideways smile could honestly bring you to your knees. “I thought you didn’t want to dance?”

“I couldn’t help it, my song came on.” She laughed, her head leaning backward to your shoulder.

“Please, Y/N. You saw me dancing with your conquest from earlier. You got jealous.” She turned around in your arms, slotting one leg in between yours, as you pulled her hips up to yours. You continued to move to the beat of the music, keeping as little airspace as possible between your bodies. You swore you could honestly light a fire with the amount of heat being generated between you two at the moment.

“You see, Natasha, that’s where you’re wrong.”

“Oh? And how would that be wrong? You were pining after her all night back at the restaurant.” She quipped, but you saw the jealousy flash across her face.

“That was me settling, dorogoy.” you watched her eyes darken at the use of the Russian endearment.

“Uhh, one…when did you learn to speak Russian and two… settling?” She asked.

“Ohh milaya, I can speak a few languages…” You whispered in her ear, causing a large eruption of goosebumps to erupt across her collarbone and shoulders. “…and yes, I was settling. There was someone else I wanted more at the party.”

“Blyat…” she whispered, hoping you wouldn’t hear her.

“Ah, ah, ah…saying things like that won’t get you the answers you want.” You quipped, turning her back around, pressing her back to your front.

“Oh? And how do you know what I want? Are you like Santa Claus now?” She chuckled at the joke, gasping when your hand ran up her side, drifting over her exposed collarbone and settling loosely around her neck. Her eyes quickly clouded over and closed, her head leaning her head back so her mouth rested by your ear.

“Detka, I sign your checks. I am kinda like Santa Claus.” She groaned as you pushed your hand up the column of her throat, pulling her lip from the prison in between her teeth and continuing up, grabbing onto her hair and gently pulling her back flush with you. “…But I can think of a few other things you can call me…” you whispered against the shell of her ear, pulling her hair down so her neck was strained and her eyes screwed shut. You ran your teeth and tongue up the side of her neck, coming to rest being her ear, by her throbbing pulse point.

“Fuck, Y/N…” she groaned as leaned back into you. As soon as you let her hair go, she snapped her head back, turning herself around in your arms, and grinding to the music down your now outstretched leg. She came back up, her forest green eyes dusted with lust, coming to a stop as your noses touched. “I don’t want to be a conquest for the night, detka.” She emphasized how you pronounced the very same word to her earlier.

“Well, how cocky of you, did you think that is what I wanted? You think of all the people in that office, and around this city I have slept with, that you could change how I go about my personal life?” You backed away ever so slightly, the redhead was slightly stabling, so you caught her by her ribcage, pushing her backward away from you.

“Please, Y/N. I see how you gawk, I know you’ve run through almost every person in that office like a wildfire, and you-YOU-don’t have any desire to put your hands all over this?” She spun, dropped low, and stuck her ass straight back into your groin. She gasped as she felt the “little surprise” you had been wearing all night. She stood up, backing her ass back up into you, rubbing all over your strap, causing you to groan as you watched. “How about you give me a little extra ‘Christmas Bonus’, hmm?” She continued to wiggle against you, the concealed toy hitting the right spot to cause you to let out a throaty moan. “C’mon, detka, I want to hear you, I want to see you fuck me… with this…” she emphasized as she palmed the toy, peeking over her shoulder at you. You pushed her shoulders down, causing her to bend at the perfect angle, and come up slowly against you, and just as she reached the perfect position, you thrust your hips forward driving the toy into her ever so slightly.

“You’re coming with me.” You responded as you grabbed her waist, leading her off the dance floor, back to your table to collect your belongings, as you called your driver to meet you out front. She flung back another drink as you were walking down to the lower lever, sliding the glass across the bartop and linking her hand in yours. You stood behind her as the chauffeur arrived in front of the club, and as you opened the door, leaning towards Natasha’s ear, you whispered, “Let me show you how much I want this to not be a one-night stand, detka.” You’re lips ghosted the shell of her ear, and you slid your hand down, grabbing her ass and pushing her into the car as she turns around with an astounded face. She sat there, staring, as she couldn’t quite wrap her head around the words you just said. You sat there with your legs spread, a cocky smirk adorning your features, watching her come to terms with what you had just said.

“You…wha…what???” She questioned, all confidence seeming to be gone at this point, the power in your hands.

“Oh, come on, baby girl… daddy didn’t stutter… you heard me correctly.” You snarked, leaning back and stretching your arms over the back of the seat, loosening your tie and unbuttoning the top buttons of your shirt. You didn’t miss how she reacted, her legs squeezing together as she screwed her eyes shut, groaning at your demeanor. You leaned forward, looking at her closed eyes, pulling her chin towards you, in between your thumb and forefinger. “Don’t leave me waiting, doll. Repeat what I said.” You smirked as her eyes flew open, and she took in your proximity, your thumb running over her prominent cheekbones. She leaned into your touch, as you opened your hand and slid your palm alongside her face, grabbing onto the back of her head to get her attention. “What…did…daddy…say?” You punctuated each word, inching her face closer with every pause.

“That… that I’m coming with you?” She asked, your lips curling into a sinister smile as she tried to remember the rest of your statement. “…and…and that you want to show me this won’t be a one-night stand?” She whispered the last part, like she was afraid you would deny the statement, and kick her to the street after riling her up to the point that she was sure her arousal could be seen through her new work pants. Your grip loosened as she mentioned the last part, a whimper leaving her slightly parted lips as you leaned forward, trapping her against the bench seat in the SUV across from you.

“Good girl, milaya.” You whispered against her lips, her eyes screwing shut as to pressed your lips to hers in a chaste, fiery kiss. You knew you were pulling into your parking garage, so there wasn’t time to get her properly edged. She moaned as you traced the inside of her mouth with your tongue, trying to memorize everything you could before your driver opened the door. You pulled away all too quickly, right as the door opened, and she almost fell forward in the direction of the kiss. “Whoa, be careful detka…there’s no rush. We have all night.” You respond as she moans, you catching her falling frame as you slip out of the SUV, holding out your hand as she stumbles towards you, almost falling out of the back. You laugh, wrapping your arms around her slim waist and lifting her down to the ground, setting her down carefully.

You reach your hand out behind you, leading her towards the elevator that would carry you up the 129 floors to your penthouse. The moment you backed into the elevator, she pressed herself onto your leaning frame, grabbing hold of the tie around your neck and pulling you in for another scorching kiss- a kiss that would make Eros and Himeros blush. A clashing of tongue, teeth, and winded breath as you both clawed at each other, fighting for dominance in the kiss, you eventually winning by gripping her hips so tightly she would surely have bruises in the morning, spinning her around and slamming her into the opulent wall of the elevator. The moan that left her mouth was filthy and sinful, and you couldn't wait to make her groan like that all night long. You pulled her head to the side and kissed your way up and down her neck before the door dinged open, and you backed away, smirking at her glassed-over expression as you led her into the penthouse. She glanced around at the space, smiling at the token Christmas tree tucked in the corner, half decorated as the only evidence of the season she could seek out. You began to further unbutton your shirt, standing there as she took in her surroundings, and when she turned around, she saw your dress shirt completely unbuttoned, the tattoos adorning your ribcage now ever present, the tie barely hung around your neck, and your jacket flung over your shoulder.

“You just gonna stand there and admire? Or are you gonna put Daddy to use?” You respond, biting your lip slightly, as she stalks over to you like she is hunting prey. She grabs a hold of your shirt, pulling you into her and running her nimble fingers over your bare chest.

“No bra tonight, darling?” She asked, her eyes darkening as she slowly began inching her hands all over your frame, sweeping her thumb underneath your breasts, tracing the tattoo that resides in between. “Fuck, detkaaaa…” she drew out the endearment in her mother tongue, running her nose up your neck and behind your ear. You wrapped your muscular arm around her waist, scooching it down to beneath her thighs.

“Up, babe…” you tap her thigh with your other hand, signaling for her to jump into your arms, you looping your forearm under her ass as she wrapped herself around your front like a koala. She began to rock her hips slightly, trying to gain friction against the member you still had in your pants, but you pulled her up higher so she couldn’t reach it. “Ah ah, behave…” you whispered into her ear, feeling the goosebumps erupt across the span of her back and thighs. “You don’t want to be a bad girl on your first night, do you? You don’t want to disappoint me, malyshka…” you kicked open the door to the bedroom as she nestled herself into your neck, you threw the blazer off your shoulder and onto the chair by the door. The whining and squirming mess attached to your frame like a leach squealed as you threw her onto your massive bed in the center of the room. Her red hair fanned out perfectly as she pulled out her ponytail holder, and her legs crossed as she bit into her lip so hard the skin turned white. “Ooooh, baby… be nice to those perfect lips… don’t bite so hard…” you tutted as you reached out, dragging your thumb across her lower lip, pulling it from the grasp between her pearly white teeth and red lipstick. You began to remove the dress shirt from your frame, tossing it in the same direction as the chair that now has your jacket on it. You began to loosen the tie, yelping as she pulled you forward so her lips rested on your ear.

“Leave the tie, detka…” she pulled back, looking into your eyes as you groaned at her response.

“Lie back for me, Natasha…” you leaned back, unbuckling the belt on your waist, whipping it out of your belt loops, and throwing it to the side, before unbuttoning your pants. You kneeled with your knee slotted in between her legs, leaning over her frame with both your arms flanking her side. “Tell me, me… malysh… how would you like this to go? Do you want Daddy to take it easy?” You trailed your finger upland down her clothed chest, biting your lip when you also felt, no bra. With one hand, you began to unbutton her shirt, slowly, painstakingly slow, as you continued to trail your finger up and down the now bare, creamy skin. Leaning over, your trailed kisses up the center of her sternum, nipping at her collarbones as open-mouthed kisses trailed over the expanse of her pale chest and neck. You leaned back as you finally reached the bottom of her shirt, she sat up and quickly tossed the offending article to the side.

“Please… please Y/N…” she moaned as you returned to nipping and kissing, soothing and licking spots all over her chest. She began bucking her hips slightly, trying to gain friction where her core was aching most.

“Aw, ‘please…please Y/N’ “ you mocked as you pulled back, shoving her back down to the bed and taking in her disheveled state. She was squirming, squeezing her legs together as you grabbed a from the hold of her ankles, making the auburn-haired woman moan as you ripped them apart, and groaned at the visible wet patch forming on the dress pants she was wearing. “Ohh, detka… you’re drenched… all for me? It looks like I owe you a new pair of pants…” you snarled in their face, causing her eyes to roll back as your finger swiped up the folds outside of her pants. You groaned as the fabric now clung to the form below, seeing the detail of her pussy coming through the drenched, white fabric. You leaned over, swiping your nose through her crotch as you leaned over her, watching as her frame squirmed beneath you, her eyes screwed shut.

“Please…please Y/N… take them off…’m so uncomfortable…” she trailed off, squirming as her hands grasped at the sheets below. Ripping her legs apart again, your deft fingers unbuttoned her pants, before slowly gliding down the soft fabric, teasing her inner thighs, before getting down to her ankles, and ripping the fabric from her frame. She gasped at the sudden cold- her back arching as you slid your arm under the small of her back, lifting her frame with ease and tossing her deeper onto the mattress, before stalking over her now bare frame. You leaned back onto your heels, admiring the now easily apparent bruises adorning her collarbone, the scratches running down her chest to her belly, and the flushed expression with her mouth agape as she wriggled beneath you. You looked down to see her sopping, puffy cunt dripping onto the fabric below, her legs shaking to rub together, but your frame in between kept that from happening.

You leaned up to her ear, purposely driving your thigh into her dripping sex, nipping at the shell of her ear- earning an almost pornographic moan from the woman.

“You have no idea, krasivaya, how long I have been thinking about this… How long I have wanted to see you, feel you, hear you, taste you.” A devilish smirk laced your features. “Now, detka- make yourself useful…ruin daddy’s pants, doll.” You nipped at her pierced ear, jingling the pricing with your tongue, and feeling the woman’s back arch against you as her eyes rolled back.

“Fuuuuuuuuck…. Y/N…” she moaned, her hips picking up their pace as you stilled them beneath you.

“Ah, ah… what’s my name, darling?” You pinched her hip bones, before pushing your hands up her frame and resting them on her pebbled nubs, lightly running your fingers over them, teasing her with the ghost of your touch.

“Hnnnng…..daaaa…..daaaaddy…” she moaned as she scratched her nails down your chest.

“There you go…there’s my girl…” you respond, grabbing hold of her hips and beginning to run her folds up and down the covered musculature of your thigh. You randomly would flex your leg, allowing for a variation in her pleasure. You groaned as you watched the slick patch develop on your thigh saturating the fabric on your legs, groaning as the folds of her pussy would part and slide up and down, her hips driving up as she tried to gain friction on her aching clit. “Good girl…” you moaned as you watched her thrusts become firmer and sloppier, signaling she was reaching her peak. Shut as you felt her legs begin to tremble, and her entrance began clamping around nothing, you pulled her away from your leg. She let out a pained groan, her climax beginning to fade away as a dull sheen of sweat became present on her body.

“Ah, ah… babygirl- terpeniye (patience)…You want to cum on Daddy’s strap, yeah?” You shushed her moans, pushing your finger into her swollen lips. She opened her watery, dark green orbs, a doe-eyed, lusty expression taking over her features. She nodded furiously as he bit her lip again, you tutting and leaning down, freeing her lip and capturing them with your own. The kiss started slow, passionate, as all the pent-up emotions of years of watching her prance around your office, her professional cockiness irritating to most, but it made your heart swell like the Grinch to think that she wanted that kind of power, and authority and rapport within the community- next to you. Everyone always tried to use you, sleep with you, to get the next position- no one ever outright said they wanted to work beside you.

“Push…puhlease…daddy… I need you… I’ve been dreaming… of this… for so…so long…” she moaned and squirmed, pawing at your breasts, pulling the hair on the nape of your neck, and the bulge that is yet to be uncovered from your pants. Your eyes rolled back at her admission, a brief sigh leaving your lips as you leaned back, looking down at the sopping wet patch of her arousal adorning your right thigh. You slowly pushed the pants down, as she pulled at one nipple with her hand, the other hovering over her drenched core. She moaned as you let the fabric catch onto the start adorning your hips, causing it to rebound and smack you in the lower stomach. You leaned your frame forward, placing your arms on the side of her torso, and allowing yourself to drag your hips up, the toy running through her sopping folds. “aaaAAhhhH!” She arched into you, letting out a glass-shattering moan.

“Good, good girl. Let Daddy hear you. I’ve waited so long…we’ve waited so long…” you moaned into her mouth rocking your hips back and forth slowly, allowing the silicone hung from your groin to lubricate against her. She clawed at your back, as you held yourself over her, watching her mewl and wiggle beneath you. “Ohhhhhh, Natasha…” you moaned at the sight of her beneath you. “You drive daddy wild, baby. This body, your moans, how wet you are for me, tell me, baby girl… my malyshka… who makes you wet like this? Hmm? Who makes you moan and wiggle beneath them like a fool, like I DO?”

You grazed your teeth over her nipple, you’re tongue swirling over the bud, before puckering your lips and blowing a cool stream of air onto the rock-hard pebble. She pushed her chest up to your face, arching her back so deep your nose rested between her bosoms. You began nipping and biting, licking the tight skin between her breasts pulling your arms out from underneath her frame, and grasping a boob into each hand, pushing them against your face. You continued to flick the nipples as you nipped and licked every inch of her pale, muscular chest. You pulled your face away, pushing her boobs further together, and grabbing onto them pulling yourself forward as you teased her entrance with the tip of your cock. She bit her lip, nodding and moaning a yes as the tip pressed into her saturated folds. You let go of one of her boobs, lining the tip up with her dripping hole. You began to slowly push in, creeping the dildo into her sex ever so slowly, watching as her cunt swallows the toy vein by vein. You were mesmerized by the sight of her pussy swallowing you whole and she quickly grew impatient with how slow you were spreading her open.

“Unnngh…. daddyyyyyyyyy… pleaseeeee… please fuck me!” She mewled beneath you, running her hands through her hair as she bit her lip.

“Ohhh, baby. Because you asked so nice…” you grabbed hold of her hips and rammed your hips forward HARD. You bottomed out, nestling your groin against hers as she regained her breath, her hands pawing behind your head until they found purchase at the nape of your neck. “Do you feel better, baby? Nice and full of daddy’s cock, baby?” You mocked, as she wiggled and shook her head beneath you. You quickly shifted your grip up to her boobs, grabbing hold of them before rutting your hips into hers like an animal in heat. You continued to pound your hips against hers, the wet slapping of the toy and the harness meeting her soaked, puffy lips as your hips expertly found new angles, quickly finding the spongy spot inside her that made her see white. Her grip in your hair began to get tighter, as you continued to thrust the toys full length inside her. You moaned as you watched her stomach bulge with each thrust, moving one of her hands to rest on her stomach as you continued your relentless pace on her cunt.

“m s’close, da…daddy…” she mewled beneath you.

“You are, honey- Daddy can feel it. What do good girls do, baby doll?” You asked, pushing her hand into her stomach so she could feel the toy inside her.

“Th…they…ask to…to cum, daddy?” She asked, her eyes rolling back into her head as you let go of her breasts, grasping her hips firmly and watching the buds bounce with each thrust of your hips.

“Thaaaaats…my….good…girl…” you let out between thrusts. “Do you feel me deep inside you? You feel me up in your stomach, baby?” You asked as she moaned, nodding her head, her thighs slowly tightening around your hips.

“S’deep, feels s’good…” she moaned as she wiggled beneath you.

“What do good girls do, detka?” As the Russian endearment rolled off your tongue, her eyes rolled back and her back arched.

“Ohhhhh, Daddy! Please!! Let me cum daddy!” She moaned as she came back down to the mattress. You kept a relentless pace, feeling sweat rolling down your chest and back. You edged her, pushing her further, and further, until she began whimpering painfully from holding back. You leaned up to her ear, licking the shell, before whispering.

“Konchi dlya menya, dorogaya. Otpusti menya.” (Cum for me, darling. Let go for me.) The shaking of her form beneath you told you all you needed to know… her legs wrapping around you tightly, pushing the toy as deep as it could go inside her. She pulled you down with her arms, kissing you passionately through her orgasm, as wave after wave crashed over her.

“Chert voz'mi, detka.” (Damn it, baby.) She whispered, winded as she let you go, running her hands through your disheveled hair, looking up at you with her blissed-out eyes. You laughed, nestling your head into her neck, collapsing over her frame as you caught your breath.

“That good, huh?” You laughed, peering out the side of your eye to her staring at the ceiling.

“Oh, god… If I had known you could speak Russian sooner, this would have happened ages ago, detka.” She laughed as you lifted off her frame, shifting the toy that was still inside her up to her stomach. “oooOOhhh m’god, too much, too much…” She pushed you away, and you leaned back, resting your weight on your heels as you slowly pulled the toy out, groaning at the sight.

“Fuckkkkk, darling…” you moan, swiping your thumb through her sensitive folds. You stepped back, removing the strap from your hips, and pulling her by her legs towards the edge of the bed. You kneeled on the floor, flattening your tongue and licking a fat stripe up her glistening sex, causing her legs to clamp shut at the sensitivity.

“dddDDDDaaaAAAddddyyyyy!” She screamed as she laced her hands through your hair, peering down through the valley of her breasts to watch you devour her sopping wet cunt. You continued to lap, nibble, lick, and plunge your tongue inside of her, as she quickly began tightening around your muscle. You wrapped an arm around her hips, bringing your thumb to meet her clit, rubbing furiously as you continue to lap at her entrance, devouring her cum and pushing her towards another explosion. Using your other hand, you spread her dripping lips to allow yourself deeper into her puffy sex. You nestled your face inside, wiggling around like you were going to shove the entirety of your face into her waiting core. “oh GOD you’re good at that!” She moaned, you laughed and sent vibrations pulling through her, causing her to arch, sitting almost fully and grabbing onto your face, rutting her hips shamelessly against your face. You groaned at the sight of her pulling you into her, thrusting herself without any regard like she would die without an orgasm. You reach your arms around her lower back, pulling her close as you continue to devour her whole.

“Ddd…dddaaaaadddyyy, puhhhhlease…” she panted out, struggling to catch her breath as she chased her high on your face. You hummed against her, lifting away slightly to allow yourself the freedom to speak.

“Go ahead, baby- cum on daddy’s face, doll.” You groan, before she unabashedly pushes your face back to her core, and you continue a ruthless pace with your tongue, wiggling and nestling your face into her sex. Her hips continued to rut into your face, stuttering as she came to her climax, her abbreviated motions jostling your face as you lapped at her folds, cleaning up the cum before she pushed you away. You smirked, climbing back up her body, her essence running down your face, dripping off your chin. She moaned at the sight, swiping her cum off your chin before sucking on her thumb, hollowing her cheeks as she cleaned it off.

“I have waited, sooo, sooo long for that, Y/N.” She whispered as you neared her, nudging her nose with yours.

“Hmmm, me too, Natasha.” You whispered back as you looked into her glassy eyes, kissing her deeply, her moaning at the taste of herself on your tongue. The kiss continued as you poured all the years of pent-up frustration into it, and you could tell- she was putting all her emotion into the kiss, running her hands all over your sweaty, sticky frame. “Merry Christmas, doll.” You whispered as you pulled away, a smirk adorning her strung-out face.

“What happened to the big bad Grinch? You were bah-humbug earlier…” she laughed as she pulled you close, your face nestling into her sweat-covered neck.

“You happened, you’re all I’ve ever wanted, baby. I’ve had my eye on you for a while, Tash.” You muttered against her neck.

“You’re all I have ever wanted, malysh. Merry Christmas.” She whispered as she played with the hair on the back of your neck, gently lulling you almost to sleep. You moaned as you lifted yourself begrudgingly from her frame, stalking over to your bathroom, and grabbing a washcloth to clean Natasha up for the night. “Oh darling, if you think we’re done, we’re not. Nas yest' gody, chtoby naverstat' upushchennoye, detka.” (We’ve got years to make up for, baby.)

#communicatethrulyrics #wlw fanfic #natasha romanoff #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #lesbian nsft #lesbian kissing #natalia romanova #natalie rushman #scarlett johansson smut #scarlett johansson x you #scarlett johansson x fem!reader #scarlett johansson x reader

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legallawsandrulesnyc · 4 months ago

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Expert Defense: What to Expect from Criminal Law Firms in New York

When navigating the legal landscape of criminal defense in New York, choosing the right law firm is crucial. Criminal law firms in New York are known for their expertise in defending clients against a wide range of charges, from minor misdemeanors to serious felonies. These firms are staffed with seasoned attorneys who specialize in criminal defense, often bringing years of experience and a deep understanding of the state’s criminal justice system.

One of the key aspects that set criminal law firms in New York apart is their familiarity with the local court systems. The New York criminal justice system is complex, with its own set of rules, procedures, and key players. A knowledgeable attorney from a local firm will have established relationships with prosecutors, judges, and other legal professionals, which can be advantageous in negotiating plea deals, understanding the nuances of a particular court, or strategizing for a trial. This local expertise is particularly valuable in a city as large and diverse as New York, where each borough may have its own legal culture and practices.

Another critical factor when considering criminal law firms in New York is their approach to client representation. The best firms are client-centered, meaning they focus on understanding the unique circumstances of each case and tailoring their defense strategies accordingly. This personalized approach ensures that every aspect of the client's situation is considered, from the evidence at hand to the potential impact of a conviction on the client's life. Whether the case involves drug offenses, white-collar crimes, violent crimes, or DUI charges, a good criminal defense attorney will craft a defense strategy that is specific to the client's needs and goals.

Furthermore, criminal law firms in New York are often at the forefront of legal innovation, leveraging the latest technology and investigative techniques to build robust defenses. This might include using forensic experts, private investigators, and cutting-edge legal research tools to challenge the prosecution’s case. In high-stakes criminal cases, where the consequences of a conviction can include long-term imprisonment, hefty fines, and a permanent criminal record, having a law firm that employs all available resources can make a significant difference.

It’s also important to note that many criminal law firms in New York offer a broad range of services beyond just defense in court. These can include pre-trial services, such as bail hearings and negotiations, as well as post-conviction services, such as appeals and expungements. By providing comprehensive legal support, these firms ensure that their clients are fully supported at every stage of the legal process.

Lastly, when selecting a criminal law firm in New York, it’s essential to consider the firm’s track record. Reputable firms will have a history of successfully defending clients, with case results that demonstrate their ability to achieve favorable outcomes. This could be in the form of case dismissals, reduced charges, or acquittals. Potential clients should look for firms that are transparent about their past successes and are willing to discuss how they’ve handled cases similar to theirs.

In conclusion, criminal law firms in New York are uniquely equipped to handle the complexities of criminal defense. With their local expertise, client-focused approach, and commitment to using all available resources, these firms play a vital role in defending the rights and freedoms of those accused of crimes. Whether facing minor charges or serious criminal allegations, partnering with a skilled criminal defense attorney from a reputable New York firm is essential for navigating the legal system effectively.

#criminal law firms New York #criminal attorney #NYC criminal defense lawyer #lawyer in new york

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tomorrowusa · 9 months ago

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The Donald Trump hush money trial starts today in NYC.

Jury selection is the first order of business. In normal trials that may take a day or two. With Trump's legal foot-dragging, that could go into weeks.

There had been some doubts about Manhattan District Attorney Alvin Bragg's approach to this case. There is some new ground here. But Slate's Mark Joseph Stern, an attorney who initially had some reservations about the prosecution, is now "fully onboard" with it.

Over the past year, though, I have realized that my initial doubts about Bragg’s indictment were misplaced. It now seems clear that Trump’s New York trial, slated to begin this week, will be the former president’s only criminal trial before the November election. The other three strong indictments against him in other jurisdictions have unfortunately been delayed by a corrupt judge, a foot-dragging Supreme Court, and a district attorney’s questionable conduct in an already complex case. This, combined with Bragg’s excellent pretrial briefing, has substantially strengthened the case for this prosecution. It is important to American democracy that Trump be forced to defend at least some of his alleged criminal conduct before a jury of his peers in advance of Election Day. [ ... ] Shortly before the 2020 election, Trump wanted to kill a story about his alleged affair with Stormy Daniels, an adult film actress. So he allegedly directed his longtime fixer Michael Cohen to pay off Daniels, through a shell company, for her silence. Afterward, Trump funneled $420,000 to Cohen in installments. But he allegedly concealed the payments by listing them as legal expenses for a retainer that did not exist. Last year, I was uncertain whether this scheme, while sordid, rose to the level of a felony offense. I am now convinced that, if proved that he took these actions, it surely does. The falsification of business records is, by itself, a misdemeanor under New York law, but it’s a felony when it’s done with the “intent to commit another crime or to aid or conceal the commission thereof.” In his indictment, Bragg claims that Trump lied about the payments with the intent to violate election law, which is what elevates the crime to a felony. Initially, I was suspicious of this theory; what election law, exactly, was the former president attempting to violate? The district attorney’s initial statement of facts was hazy on this crucial point, raising the possibility that he couldn’t tie the underlying fraud to a state or federal statute. Turns out he could. Bragg has argued, convincingly, that the former president intended to violate at least two election laws—one state, one federal. First, Bragg asserted that Trump and Cohen ran afoul of the Federal Election Campaign Act by making unlawful campaign contributions (in the form of a payoff) at the direction of a candidate (that is, Trump).

As a criminal defendant, Trump has to be in court for the trial. And except for holidays, court will be in session four days a week.

So Trump will be in Lower Manhattan quite a bit for the next couple of months. The New York County (Manhattan) Courthouse is at 100 Centre Street. And he owns a major property at 40 Wall Street (modestly called The Trump Building) where he might occasionally be seen. Google Maps puts the walking distance between the two locations at 0.8 miles (1.28 km). So if you're tempted to exercise your First Amendment right to express your opinions to Trump...

#new york #donald trump #hush money #trump's legal problems #alvin bragg #stormy daniels #michael cohen #falsification of business records #cover-up #federal election campaign act #lower manhattan #mark joseph stern #lock him up #election 2024 #vote blue no matter who

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beardedmrbean · 2 months ago

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Former Abercrombie & Fitch CEO and accused serial sexual predator Mike Jeffries was arrested Tuesday as part of a sex-trafficking investigation.

The 79-year-old disgraced fashion-giant boss — whose twisted antics allegedly led to more than 100 men being abused — was nabbed in West Palm Beach, Fla.

His partner, Matthew Smith, 60, as well as a business associate, James Jacobson, 70 — previously described by accusers as a middleman who is missing his nose and covers the spot with a snakeskin patch, according to the BBC — were also arrested in the case, sources told The Post.

Federal prosecutors in Brooklyn were set to hold a news conference later Tuesday to announce the charges in the sex-trafficking and interstate prostitution case – including involving a “former CEO of a major company.”

The arrests come roughly a year after the FBI started probing claims Jeffries allegedly orchestrated elaborate sex events to exploit and sexually abuse young male models during his 22-year tenure at the brand.

The claims first surfaced as part of an explosive BBC News report last year in which 12 men alleged they were lured to events at Jeffries’ upscale New York residence or luxury hotels in the world’s fashion capitals between 2009 to 2015.

In the wake of the BBC report, a class-action civil suit was filed in New York last year alleging that more than 100 men had been abused and that the fashion juggernaut turned a blind eye to Jeffries’ alleged misconduct.

David Bradberry, the lead plaintiff in the case and one of the dozen men who spoke to the BBC, alleged he felt pressured into having sex with Jeffries at one of his parties in his Hamptons mansion.

Bradberry, then 23 and an aspiring model, told the outlet that he “didn’t feel safe to say ‘no’ or ‘I don’t feel comfortable with this’” because of the home’s “secluded” location and presence of Jeffries’ staff — who all dressed in a uniform of head-to-toe A&F.

The suit, filed in October last year, also alleged Jefferies had modeling scouts scouring the Internet for prey — and that some prospective models vying to become the next face of Abercrombie ended up sex-trafficking victims.

“Jeffries was so important to the profitability of the brand that he was given complete autonomy to perform his role as CEO however he saw fit, including through the use of blatant international sex-trafficking and abuse of prospective Abercrombie models,” the suit alleged.

Jeffries, who left Abercrombie in 2014, denied the allegations at the time.

His lawyer, Brian Bieber, said in a statement to The Post on Tuesday, “We will respond in detail to the allegations after the Indictment is unsealed, and when appropriate, but plan to do so in the courthouse – not the media.”

Abercrombie & Fitch said at the time that the company was “appalled and disgusted” by the claims, adding it had hired an outside law firm to conduct a review.

n the wake of the arrests, lawyers representing the plaintiffs, Brad Edwards and Brittany Henderson, said in a statement Tuesday, “Our firm represents all of the victims in the class action case we filed on their behalf.

“All four of the defendants, including Abercrombie and Fitch, have tried everything possible to delay our lawsuit from proceeding, presumably because they knew it would lead to criminal arrests. Despite their efforts, the arrests happened anyway, and we are looking forward to cooperating with law enforcement to make sure that the criminal and civil justice systems are successful in this prosecution.”

Jeffries was largely credited for the brand’s boost in popularity among teens in the early nineties with its slew of advertising campaigns featuring bare-chested young male and female models.

The brand became a darling of turn-of-the-millennium teen mall culture with its stores pumped full of cologne.

Lawyers for Smith and Jacobson did not immediately return Post requests for comment Tuesday.

#nunyas news

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semisgroupie · 2 years ago

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PART I — A BROKEN RECORD ON REPEAT

shidou ryusei x fem. reader

wc: 5.5k

warnings: foul language, alcohol, reader is in a loveless relationship, legal jargon, talk about babies, some angst

note: this is a very plot heavy chapter and very little shidou and reader interaction but that’s to build up for what’s to come!

series masterlist | next part | taglist

Mundane?

Could that be the word you’d use to describe your life currently? No, even that is being too nice. You could list off all the possible adjectives in your mind but they wouldn’t be enough to properly describe your emotions towards your life. You’d have to string together a sentence to do so.

So now what would the sentence be?

Your life is like a broken record that goes on nonstop and makes you want to rip your hair out of your scalp.

Bingo!

That’s what you would describe your life as. Everything fell into place and there was no excitement for you to look forward to—well there was something very exciting coming your way, you just didn’t know it yet. But it’s best to give some background.

You grew up in a traditional nuclear family. Your parents worked endlessly to make sure you and your younger brother lived a comfortable life. You appreciate them for that and in return you made sure to do your best in school to ease any burden on them. You were a straight-A student, captain of the debate and mock trial teams in your school and helped out in your community. For that, you ended up receiving a full ride scholarship to one of the top universities in New York City.

During your time in college, you worked your ass off to maintain the scholarship and thensome. That’s when you found your passion in law and attended law school which led you to where you were now. One of the top corporate firms in New York City, you always made sure to devote time to your family and you were able to buy your parents a beautiful home where they could finally relax and retire.

At the age of 23, you met your now fiancé, Niles Murdock. He put you at the top of his world, for the first few years you two were together. Then it seemed like once he put a ring on your finger, he just stopped trying. No more random bouquets, no more casual walks in the park, no more lazy nights where you two sat cuddled up and ordered takeout to stuff your faces, it was all over. His parents were decent people, maybe that’s a lie. They only saw people and actions as transactions and they were the ones to convince you to go into corporate law. “That’s where the money is!” They said and you followed like a pet.

When you graduated law school you had multiple offers but your heart was leaning towards a position at the prosecutor's office. You would’ve had to work your way up but it would’ve been something you enjoyed. But you took the offer at Baker, Fisher & Ross LLP. The first year was hell, sitting in meetings and conference rooms with men that only saw you as a walking sex doll and disregarded any of your opinions. Three years later and now you’re the youngest and only female being considered for a position as partner, at only 28.

That was currently the only perk in your life.

Sometimes when you sat in your office and looked out the window, you wondered what would’ve happened if you went into criminal law. Where would you be then? Would your relationship with Niles have ended? Would you be slaving for a dollar? But most importantly, would you be happy?

But those were all questions that would remain unanswered. You had to push them aside because you had more important matters to focus on. You had to make partner in this firm. You had to or else this route would mean nothing. It would mean that you threw away everything, for nothing.

In the morning you woke up in an empty bed, as per usual. Niles was a stockbroker so he had to go meet with his Wall Street coworkers and probably snort a few lines of coke to start the day. You walked out of your bedroom and went straight to the shower to wake yourself up. As the water cascaded along your skin, you went over your schedule for the day. You had three meetings and then after lunch you had to go meet with the mock trial team you were mentoring. You loved working with them. They all reminded you of yourself, all bright eyed and eager to the world of law. If you could, you would warn them about making the right decision. You wanted to warn them to keep the fire inside them lit and not let it die out like you had. But then you’d scare them off and there goes something to brighten your day.

You finished your shower and rummaged through your closet, grabbing your gray pants suit and heels to set on your bed while you prepared a pot of coffee and made yourself up. After you finished getting ready, you poured the coffee into your mug and grabbed your bag. Just like clockwork you walked to your car, drove to your office building then walked to the local bakery to pick up a croissant for your secretary. Jesse was an angel, he was someone that you could rely on and chat with whenever you felt like you were going insane. Hell, he probably could write novels about your life with how much you told him.

After paying for the croissant you made your way back down the block to your office building and made your way inside. The building had 18 floors and was filled with multiple law firms. Your firm took up the top 6 floors and you didn’t really know much about anything else that occupied the space. Maybe if you’re stuck in the office late you’ll go look around and figure out what’s going on inside the building. It’s not like security would confront you anyways, they were too busy sleeping or flirting on the job.

You made your way through the growing crowd of people and waited for the elevator. Then after a few moments you packed yourself inside the metal box that was kind of like a can of sardines waiting to be sealed. You held your bag and the bag with the croissant inside close to you and looked out into the crowd of people that were waiting for the next elevator. They all shared a similar expression of boredom but there was someone that caught your attention. Just as you were about to turn your complete focus to them, the doors to the elevators shut and you started your ascent to hell. But there was something about the stranger that would stick in your mind no matter how quickly you looked at them, their pink eyes.

The elevator ride was fairly quick and you got off at the 17th floor. The top floor was reserved for the big shots and partners and if everything were to go your way, you’d be up there soon. You made your way to your office and stopped by the desk that sat in the antechamber that connected you both. “Good morning to the best secretary in this hell hole, I brought you your favorite.” You set the bag down at his desk and received a bright smile.

“You’re the greatest.” He took it and quickly opened it to eat the contents of the bag. That’s one thing about Jesse, you could give him a bag of rocks and he’d still be thankful for it. You smiled and turned to head into your office, just as your hand touched the knob Jesse cleared his throat. “Sorry, I got distracted but I heard that at the end of this week is when you’ll find out if you make partner. They’re having a little party at Vincenzo’s and they’ll make the announcement there. But don’t say I told you, Mr. Fisher is going to come down to tell you the news, so act surprised.” You felt a surge of adrenaline rush through your veins at his words. You’ll finally know if your work has paid off and if you made the right decision. “You got it, I’ll start practicing my shocked expressions.” You winked at Jesse then made your way inside your office to gather what you needed for your first meeting.

Right before you got ready to take your lunch break Mr. Fisher made his way to your office. You looked up at the older gentleman, out of the three men who helped create the firm, he was the kindest, he still had some sense of humanity in him. “Good afternoon, I just wanted to stop by and let you know that we’ll be announcing our decision on Friday. I also wanted to thank you for your hard work, if it wasn’t for you I’m not too sure if we’d still be running as good as we are. Enjoy your day and keep up the good work.” He smiled and left your office, once he was out of sight Jesse got up and made his way into your office.

“Come on, you’re telling me what he said on our way to lunch. Oh and is your detective friend joining us today?” Your ‘detective friend’ is someone you met in college, more specifically one of your closest friends that you met once you started college. Joy Aurora, she was your college roommate from freshman year and stuck by your side through law school while she pursued a career in law enforcement. Now she works as a lead detective in the prosecutor’s office. She was the first person to sense the bad vibes from Niles but she wanted you to be happy so she didn’t interfere. That still doesn’t mean she doesn’t put her (not so) little opinion about him every time you two talk.

“No, she has to go to Long Island to try to find some evidence for a case she’s working on but she’ll probably be able to meet us later on this week.” You organized your things then went with Jesse to lunch at the local diner.

“So you’re telling me that you have to go to dinner with Niles’ parents tonight but he couldn’t spare the time to have lunch with your brother when he visited a month ago? I mean, I know he’s an ass but that’s a major dick move. But remind me, what do you see in him?” You took a few moments to think about your answer but the pause was enough to convince Jesse. “He was perfect when we were dating. He always surprised me with flowers out of the blue, he always found time to come over and would force me to eat while I was studying for the bar, he was sweet with my parents and brother, he made my heart skip a beat whenever I saw him and I had to catch my breath whenever he smiled at me.”

“But how do you feel about him now? And be honest with me, Y/N.” You knew he was going to ask that question but you still dreaded it. “I don’t know how to feel about him. I feel like he’s tired of me and I feel bored. I feel frustrated with him but I’ve gotten used to it.” You looked down at the engagement ring on your finger and looked at the diamond on it. “Niles surprised me with this engagement ring about two weeks after I started working at the firm. He took me to get my nails done, helped me buy a beautiful dress and took me to dinner at this French restaurant that I still can’t pronounce the name of. Afterwards we walked around Central Park and then he popped the question. Back then I felt like I was on cloud nine, now I feel like I made the worst decision of my life. Isn’t that funny? How your life can change in an instant. I like to think that he’ll change, that he’ll go back to the Niles I fell in love with but with each passing day the hope just fizzes out.”

Jesse got up from his seat across from you and pulled you into a hug. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked. I just don’t like seeing how miserable you look. You always look like you’re longing for something else and I don’t know what to do to help you. You’re my friend and I hate feeling like I can’t help you.” You hugged him back and shook your head. “It’s something that I’ll have to deal with by myself, Jesse. I got myself into this mess and I have to get myself out of it, or at least make it more tolerable.”

The rest of your lunch break was spent hearing Jesse complain about his tinder dates and boring love life. After heading back to the office you went to gather your things for the mock trial team you were mentoring and went to the conference room on the 15th floor. The students were still on the way so you could set up everything and refresh yourself on the details of the case they’ll be arguing for their competition. On the elevator ride down you skimmed through the packet to get a general gist of what the case was then made your way into the conference room.

Once inside you set up the packets at each of the empty chairs around the table and set the extras in the middle of it. You checked the time, still about 15 minutes until the students were supposed to come in so you had 15 minutes to kill. Thankfully there was a dry erase board in the conference room so you walked over to it but there were no markers. “Just my luck.” You looked around the conference room, checking wherever you could just to find at least one marker that you could use. You were just about to start crawling around to check any nooks and crannies around the room when you heard a knock on the door.

You fixed yourself a bit and turned to the door. “Sorry to bother, I just came to bring these in.” You saw the male at the door with a box of dry erase markers in his hand. Your eyes roamed along his face and once you met his eyes you quickly recognized him. He was the guy you briefly saw in the morning right before the elevators closed. He had beautifully tanned skin that contrasted perfectly with his blonde hair and bright colored eyes. Your eyes quickly traveled to his slightly exposed chest since the top two buttons of his shirt were opened. But you shook yourself out of your little trance. “Thank you so much, I was on the hunt for dry erase markers.”

You walked over to close the distance between you two and stuck your hand out to take the box from him. Your fingers just barely grazed his and you took the box. “I’m Y/N, I work for Baker, Fisher & Ross. Nice to meet you.” You stuck your free hand out to shake his and you had to fight yourself from going into another trance. “I’m Ryusei, I work a few floors beneath you at Jameson & Cole. My boss told me at the last minute that she had thrown out the last dry erase marker and had me go on a supply hunt so that was a pain. So, if any of the big shots at your firm need an assistant please let me know.” He joked and you shook your head as you laughed, “trust me, if you’re annoyed over a last minute task you’d hate working for any of the partners at my firm. They’re all very snooty and think too highly of themselves.” He chuckled and leaned against the doorframe. “Thanks for the warning.”

You spent the next few minutes chatting with him until his phone started ringing. “Fuck, I have to go set up for my boss’ meeting. It was really great talking to you, I’ll see you around.” You nodded and lifted up the box of markers as he started to take his leave, “thanks for the markers.” He flashed a wink at you then turned the hall to go to the elevators.

You stood in place for a moment and collected your thoughts. At the end of the day he was a stranger that you probably won’t see again so there was no need to be hung up on it. So you carried on with what you were planning to do. By the time the students made their way in you had some notes written on the board and you turned to them. “Alright guys, my name is Y/N and I work for Baker, Fisher & Ross and I’ll be your ticket to winning this whole competition. First things first, we’ll do introductions and then do a little exercise to loosen ourselves up.”

The rest of your day went by quickly and then it was time for what you were dreading most, dinner with Niles’ parents. All you had to do was grin and bear whatever bullshit they had prepared for you but biting your tongue was no easy feat. On the drive back home you received a text from Niles that told you to just meet him and his parents at the restaurant. You had gotten used to just meeting Niles at restaurants since he could never be bothered to meet you at home so you two could go together. After a quick drive back to your loft, you showered and then redid your makeup and slipped on a black dress then quickly left to the restaurant.

Coincidentally it was the restaurant Niles took you to when he proposed so all those memories came flooding back. After parking you entered and the host led you to the table where your fiancé and future in-laws sat. “I hope I didn’t keep you all waiting for too long, I came here as fast as I could.” You gave a short hug to both of his parents then sat down next to your fiancé. Surprisingly he leaned over to kiss you and took your hand in his while his parents began to drone on.

Being with his parents was surprisingly pleasant this time. There were no offhand comments thrown your way and they didn’t let their privilege ooze all over the place. Well, that was until Niles announced that you were up for partner at your law firm. His mother spoke first, “oh dear, if you make partner then you won’t have much time. You two have been together for so long and I don’t have any grandchildren yet. When I was your age I already had Harrison and was pregnant with Niles.” You chewed on your bottom lip to try to fight the urge to roll your eyes then you mustered up a fake smile.

“I completely understand where you’re coming from Susanne but we still haven’t really discussed the topic of children yet and making partner is what I really want.” She shook her head and sighed which meant that it was time for her husband to steer the conversation. “Sweetheart, sometimes you have to push what you want aside. I mean, Niles is doing great on Wall Street and is making more than enough to support you and children. What do you think, son? Don’t you want children?” You looked over at Niles, hoping that he’d defend you in this matter. “Well, I do want children,” a genuine smile was threatening to spread across your face, he was finally defending you, “you guys are right. I can support us, baby. I think that’ll be the perfect next step for our future.”

And just like that, your hopes got crushed. “We’ll just have to talk about it more.” You faked another smile as you spoke and you moved your hand from his grasp. The rest of the dinner went by quickly and you walked with him and his parents to their car. Once they drove off, you and Niles made your way to your car since one of his buddies dropped him off. The drive back was silent and it was almost impossible to fight your frustration and bite your tongue.

It was just bubbling and threatened to boil over. Once you two were in the lobby of your building you had to get it off your chest. “Are you serious, Niles? You expect me to give up my career so I can be a housewife? You know how hard I’ve worked for this and you want me to just throw it away?” He pinched the bridge of his nose and turned to face you, his hazel eyes had no emotion to them, just like the rest of his face. “What’s so wrong with that? You knew from the start that I wanted to have kids and at this rate we’re not going to have them.”

Your eyes widened at his words. “We’re only 28. I’m not throwing away anything for children, I don’t care what you or mommy and daddy dearest think. For once I want you to act like my fiancé and support me and my decisions. Just once.” He opened his mouth to reply but you had already gone ahead of him into the elevator and pressed the button to your floor. Just as the doors were about to close a wrinkly hand stuck its way through then a familiar face walked in. “Just in time and my favorite neighbors are here.” You smiled at the elderly woman as she got on the elevator, “good evening Mrs. Bennett.”

“You two look so spiffy! Was it date night?” You shook your head and spoke to her during the short ride while Niles leaned against the opposite wall and watched you two in silence. Just as the elevator was about to stop at your floor Mrs. Bennett gently placed her hand on top of yours, “are you two in search of a puppy? My daughter’s dog just gave birth and we have too many puppies to give away. If you’re not busy just stop by my apartment.”

Niles opened his mouth to say something but you beat him to the punch, “how wonderful, I’ll join you on the way to your apartment and see the puppies.” Niles scoffed and rolled his eyes, “that mutt is going to be your responsibility, not mine.” He muttered and walked out of the elevator once the metal doors opened then you and Mrs. Bennett followed behind.

He went into the direction of your shared apartment and you went the opposite direction. Mrs. Bennett shook her head and looked at you, “trouble in paradise?” You shrugged and followed her to her apartment, “I guess you can say that.” She sighed and decided not to press the subject further. She opened the door to her apartment and right in the middle of the living room you saw a cardboard box with multiple eyes staring at you. “They’re akitas and just take your time with them to find your perfect match. Do you want some tea?” You shook your head and approached the box, there were 6 puppies in the box all begging for your attention. You played with them for a little then held up one, the one that practically clung onto you during your entire visit. He was a boy and had black fur with white spots over his eyes that made it look like he had little glasses. “I think I’ll be taking this one home.”

Mrs. Bennett approached with her cup of tea and smiled, “perfect and don’t worry about paying for him. Think of him as a thank you for all the times you came over to check on me and bought groceries for me.” You hugged her and with a short goodbye you left. As you walked through the hall you held the puppy up as you thought of a name for him. “Spot? Hm, that’s a little generic. Biscuit? I can see you don’t like that one. How about Atlas?” The puppy wiggled in your grip and yipped, which you took as a sign of confirmation. “Atlas it is.”

You unlocked the door to your loft and walked inside, Niles was in the kitchen with a glass of whiskey in his hand. “So you picked one out?” He didn’t even bother to look at you or Atlas as he spoke but you just shrugged it off and set Atlas on the floor. “Mhm, his name is Atlas. Don’t sound too excited.” You watched as Atlas approached Niles and nudged his leg with his nose but Niles just stepped away from him. You patted your thigh which caught the puppy’s attention and made him run back to you. Niles finally looked over at you and then looked down at Atlas, whose tail was wagging a mile a minute.

“Well Atlas is your problem, not mine. I don’t understand how you’re not ready for kids but can sign up to take care of a dog.” He downed the rest of the contents in the glass and put it in the dishwasher. “I’m going to shower then I’ll sleep in the spare bedroom since you’ll want to share our bed with that mutt.” You just watched as he disappeared into your shared bedroom to gather some things then went into the spare bedroom. You looked down at Atlas who looked back up at you with wide eyes and leaned down to pick him up. “Don’t mind him, he’s grumpy. I’ll just shower you with enough love for two people.” You kissed his snout and made your way to your bedroom to get ready for bed.

The rest of the week went by in a blur, you were able to fit Atlas into your schedule easily and even Niles warmed up to him. He even surprised the pup with a squeaky toy one night after coming home from work.

Soon, it was already the big day. The day where you’d find out if you made the right decision for your career path. You decided to wear what you dubbed your lucky dress, which was just a red dress that you wore to important consultations. You did your makeup and made yourself some coffee then brought Atlas to Mrs. Bennett’s so she could watch him while you were at work. On the drive to the office you felt excited, adrenaline surged through your veins and you sang along to whatever song played on the radio at the top of your lungs. You went through the usual morning routine, getting a croissant for Jesse and everything went as it usually did.

The day went by so slowly in your opinion. You wanted to know what their decision was already but you had to be patient. The time soon passed and you made your way to Vincenzo’s with Jesse. He wrapped an arm around your shoulder and kept you close to him as you two walked into the restaurant. “This is your big day superstar, did you pack your things for our move to the top floor?” You smiled and lifted a hand to gently pat his chest. “Once the announcement is made I’ll get my things ready.”

The restaurant was packed. It seemed like the whole office building was invited. You looked around but Niles wasn’t there but maybe he was running late. There was no way he’d miss an important day like this. Or at least you hoped he wouldn’t miss it. “I’m going to get some drinks, I’ll be right back.” You moved from Jesse’s grip and walked over to the bar, there stood Joy. You smiled brightly and hugged her tightly. “Hi beautiful, where’s your knight in shining armor? I haven’t seen him here yet.”

You shrugged at her question and grabbed a strawberry daiquiri, “no clue, I sent a message earlier to make sure he knew where to go but I haven’t gotten a reply from him yet.” Joy raised an eyebrow and even though she hadn’t said anything yet, you knew what was going to come out of her mouth. “I know, just give him some time. Maybe he got caught up or he’s on his way.” She shrugged and took a sip of her beer, “if you insist but I hope he shows face soon. If not, I’m going to talk your ear off about him and nothing will be able to stop me.” You laughed and nodded.

You spent the next half hour with Jesse and Joy then your attention was piqued when Mr. Baker, Mr. Fisher and Mr. Ross stood at the small stage and Mr. Baker tapped his microphone. “Good evening everyone. First off, thank you for taking the time to come and celebrate this event with us. This decision we’re about to announce took so much time and so much debating, I just want to say that both people who were up for this position are more than deserving for this position and it pains us all to offer it to only one person. So, with great pleasure I would like you all to congratulate Mr. Kuon Wataru!”

Your eyes widened at the announcement and your heart sunk to the pit of your stomach. “Kuon got it? He made partner?” You asked your questions to no one in particular and you watched as Kuon got up to thank everyone. Mr. Fisher made his way through the crowd and approached you with an apologetic look on his face. “Y/N, I’m sorry. I fought for you as much as I could but they wouldn’t budge no matter what.” You nodded and downed the rest of your drink as Mr. Fisher placed a hand on your shoulder and gently squeezed it before walking away.

Jesse placed his arm around you and held you close to him, shaking his head. “Fucking bastard, his father made that big donation during our last fundraiser so I wouldn’t be surprised if that’s what swayed their opinions. It’s not like all of us were born with a silver spoon in our mouths.” You felt like you were suffocating, like there were large hands clamping around your neck and they were squeezing down as hard as possible.

“I need to get some air.” You made your way through everyone as quickly as you could. All you had was tunnel vision to the exit, not even acknowledging anyone that was near you. You went out through the side entrance and leaned against the wall as your chest rose and fell with heavy breaths. You went through your bag for your phone and dialed Niles’ number. After a few rings you finally got an answer, “hey babe.” His words were slurred and you could smell the alcohol on his breath through the screen and you heard all the chatter and laughter in the background.

Your frustration quickly rose and you couldn’t even hold yourself back. “Are you fucking kidding me? You’re out getting shit faced during one of the biggest nights of my life? I bet you didn’t even remember what today was. You couldn’t even bother to reply to my text earlier. You know, I had a feeling you’d end up pulling some shit like this but I tried to push any doubt aside because why would my fiancé not show up? Why wouldn’t my fiancé be around for such an important occasion? But it turns out that you don’t fucking care! You don’t care about me and what I want, if it’s not about you getting your way then you don’t care! Don’t bother coming home tonight, don’t bother coming back at all, I’m done with you Niles. This is the last straw. It’s over.” You hung up the phone and tossed it back into your bag.

You felt the tears build up and they quickly blurred your vision. You wiped at your eyes to try to hide the tears, you’d just hate it if anyone came out and saw you like this. You didn’t want to go through the whole explanation of how your life turned to shit in less than 10 minutes. You decided that you should just head home and then you could drown yourself in whatever alcohol you had stored and cuddle with Atlas. You went through your bag to find your car keys and just your luck, they weren’t there. “Of course, I left them in the fucking office.”

You wiped your eyes once more and made your way to the office. You felt your phone vibrate in your bag, of course it was Niles trying to make up some poor excuse to explain why he didn’t show up but you weren’t in the mood to deal with it. You walked inside of your office building and stood in front of the elevators.

For some reason you looked down at your hands and saw the diamond of your engagement ring glistening in the light. The tears built up again as you looked at the ring. You were so caught up you didn’t even hear anyone approach. You sniffled and wiped your eyes then a voice broke you out of your trance.

“Hey, are you alright?”

taglist: @blueparadis @vinsmouke @dabibreeder @nekee-lilac02

#series: strange love #bllk x reader #blue lock x reader #bllk x you #blue lock x you #shidou ryusei x reader #shidou ryusei x you

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