Need A Dog? I Can Bark

Need a dog? I can bark

I honestly want my ask box to be flooded with requests, I only have one left 😔

Gays I found out I'm a beta💪 then my friend is an omega ✊

Sanzu + Mikey x you!

Smut and Fluff(if you squint)

Sanzu is gonna join ish, unprotected sex, soft Mikey, Switch Mikey if you squint

Smut + fluff if you squint:)

Wc:500?

The art isn't mine! Pls tell me immediately that the owner doesn't want reposts and if they do pls tell me who they are!:)

Some are proofread:)

Masterlist

Your hand starts to rub Mikey's tip giving it small kitten licks making him grab your hair and using his other hand to open your mouth pushing your head gagging at his cock. Pulling your head back to breath but he noticed pushed your head further now taking his whole cock. Tears fall down in pain and pleasure. You felt a pair of hands grab your waist and push you down further, you forgot Sanzu was below you eating you out.

You moaned, making vibrations on Mikey's cock and letting out an expected whimper as his head fell back, sucking and licking his cock while your other hand pumps what you couldn't fit in your mouth. As you were sucking Mikey's cock, Sanzu is below you gripping your thighs closer to his mouth. Wanting more you put one of your hands on your nipple and started to rub it while riding Sanzu's mouth and sucking Mikey off.

You felt like you were about to cum just because of Sanzu's tongue inside you, moaning uncontrollably and making vibrations on Mikey's cock.

"Ahh fuck! Sweetheart I'm close"

Mikey said, panting at the vibrations on his cock and you still trying your best to lick it, you pulled your head back and Mikey's cum spilled all over your face. Sanzu removed you from him then stood up walking to the edge of the bed laying down.

Mikey grabbed you closer to him

"Your mouth felt good around my cock sweetheart.."

"But.. I wanna try how good your pussy feel around me hehe♡"

Mikey turns you around and pushes your pussy to rub his cock, you let out a small moan making him chuckle. He slowly inserts himself inside you, letting you adjust his length. You gripped his hand and he held it back with you as he leans his head on your shoulder.

"Don't worry sweetheart you're doing great taking my cock♡"

He wasn't even fully inside you but you felt full already

"Tired? We can go slow or stop now you know?" He softly smiled at you but you didn't want to give up so you did your best to take him fully. After a bit of adjusting his length you started to ride him, slow but deep. Mikey wraps his hands around your waist, as his head was on your shoulder you could hear whimpers and soft moans coming out of his mouth. Starting to go faster his grip on your waist tightened making small bruises on your waist forming.

Not as if it bothered you, lewd noises were heard around the room. You didn't even notice that Sanzu was jacking himself off.

"Mikey don't be such a pussy and leave the slut shaking from not being able to cum"

@ambrodias

|| The rest is up for your imagination!:) I'll be writing obbession and will try to make my main focus by that book! I'll rewrite what I wrote before soon. || It's in wattpad

Happy new year but I forgot to write obbession and it's 3/4 a month since I last wrote a chapter

I write books to criticize them, if you hate it I'll join you mf

hanma x f!reader, baji x f!reader, izana x f!reader, ran x f!reader

summary - after years of careful construction, a tragedy causes the walls you've built up from professional and personal crumble.

a/n - police procedural au, judge! reader, please check out @keizos's tokyo blue collar au, murder, mystery, intruigue, swearing, smut, banter, im guessing at how these things work purely for plot reasons.

setup - on the eve of the trial of the son of the most dangerous organized crime syndicate in tokyo, tragedy strikes. friends become enemies, and old enemies become friends again, as you unite under the purpose of making the world a better, safer place.

unsure of how often this will update but envisioning at least three parts and a Fair Amount of Smut lmao | join the taglist

“Mr. Haitani,” You push your glasses up the bridge of your nose. “Your client has five minutes to show up or the Prosecution gets a default judgement.” Those well versed in Haitani Ran’s emotions could read the stress rolling off of his shoulders in waves, but a casual onlooker would only catch the sly smirk.

“She’s on her way, your honor. You’ve got my word.” He checks his smartphone. “Just a little traffic jam.”

“What a shame,” Hanma Shuji, opposing council says, leaning back in his chair and glancing at the beautiful young woman standing next to him, “That this is so unimportant to Mrs. Hyland that she’s late for her own court-”

“Objection,” Ran looks to you, “Inflammatory, your honor.”

“Sustained.” You glance down at the case in front of you and then back at the dark haired man. “Thin Ice, Mr. Hanma.” He flashes his, frankly enormous palms, and shoots you a smile that you assumed made younger, less experienced women weak in the knees. It only serves to build your mounting annoyance. You check the clock hanging on the wall. Three more minutes. Hanma Shuuji’s client is a young woman, with long blonde hair, carefully styled in a blowout. Her lips are silicone puffed, her cheeks brightened with some kind of sparkle. You can’t help but remember the rumors, the things they told you about Hanma when you first transferred here a year and a half ago.

“That man,” Hinata, your stenographer at that particular trial, had hissed to you, “That man has fucked almost every single one of his clients.”

“No,” you’d breathed, scandalized. “No he has not.” She’d nodded vigorously.

“It’s true.”

Now that has you wondering while you tap your worn heel on the hardwood underneath your bench. Wondering what he does for these women, all different shapes, and sizes and ages, wondering why he does it, and what they see in him?

Your girlfriends always asked you to set them up with lawyers, and every time you refused. Lawyers were rarely sexy, you’d argue, and the ones who were attractive were so smarmy you’d get a layer of grease on your hands just from touching one of them. In court, Lawyers jousted in front of you, they fought dirty and hard, and while argument and banter seemed like foreplay in movies, in real life it rarely plays out that way. You’ve been watching Hanma now, much to the chagrin of Haitani and the other regular cast of high powered lawyers, who were bored of watching you watch their opposing counsel.

You started to notice things, notice the way he’d pat a clients shoulder at a tough moment, the calculated flash of his eyes before he’d go in for the kill, the way he’d open the door for other people even if his arms were full, and then deny doing it to anyone who thanked him. You sigh. One more minute. It was late on a Thursday, and there was paperwork waiting for you in your chambers, and you had an appointment with Detective Baji before you could be free today.

“Mr. Haitani,” You raise your eyebrows. “Sessions of court are not suggested attendance. Your client has been subpoenaed. She needs to be here.”

“She will.” Haitani promises. “Absolutely she will. Three more minutes, I just need-”

“Hasn’t my client suffered enough?” Hanma drawls, sitting down at the table next to her. “I think a default ruling would be-”

“A misscarriage of justice?” Ran quips, “I concur, Hanma-”

“Enough.” You cut through their bickering just as the door at the back of the courtroom opens and an older woman, with tanned skin and crystal blue eyes sweeps into the courtroom, followed by a full entourage. Ran’s shoulders droop with relief as he sweeps across the courtroom, taking the older woman’s arm and leading her to a seat at the table.

She can’t be more than fifty, you decide, but she’s had extremely careful work done. You take your gavel and bang it softly, bringing the court to attention.

“All rise,” the bailiff says, “For the honorable Judge L/n.” The whole court stands, Ran has to gently tap his client on the upper arm to get her to obey. Each of them begin their arguments, the crux of the case is that Hanma’s client is suing for wages withheld, while Ran’s client is claiming that the contract with the plaintiff was unfulfilled, that Hanma’s client didn’t show up to work, was often late, etc.

“Counsel,” You raise your eyebrows, “Approach please.”

“A please,” Ran says, grinning, “An approach please, that’s the warmest you’ve been to any one of us.”

“And now it’ll never happen again,” you snip, “Haitani, Hanma.” you start and he nods to you.

“Yes, your honor?”

“This case is bullshit. I came in today, expecting to do my job, and you’ve served me a steaming plate of bullshit.”

“Your honor,” Hanma protests, “This young woman is-”

“Suing her stepmother.” You slide the papers across the desk. “Over six hundred dollars.” Neither of them has the grace to look sheepish.

“I mean can we really place a numerical value on something like the relationship between-” Ran starts and Hanma speaks even more quickly,

“And frankly that makes it even worse that she would short her stepdaughter over something so petty, as six hundred dollar.” You pinch the bridge of your nose.

“You know I have a lot of cases,” you say sternly, “Important cases, I have the Giordano Case on Monday. That’s your firm, isn’t it?” You look at Ran, who nods.

“Shoulda seen the look on Mikey’s face when he saw you were assigned to the case.” Ran chuckles. “He was-”

“Give me one good reason not to toss this case in the garbage, Hanma.” You snap and he doesn’t even have to think about it.

“Because regardless of the reason why, if this young woman worked and was not paid, she deserves to be compensated. And I know that. And you know that. Which is why you won’t throw it out.” You sigh.

“Mr. Haitani,” you turn to the other lawyer, “You will get me timesheets showing documented proof that this young woman was not at the places she was paid to be at or I’m going to rule in favor of the plaintiff and grant her a percentage,” you watch the grin slide across Hanma’s face, “A percentage, Hanma, of the emotional damage claim she filed. Understood?”

“Yes, your honor.” Ran responds seriously. You give him a tight little smile, for all his bluster, Haitani Ran always delivered on time. You stand and bang your gavel. “Court dismissed for the day. We will reconvene on tomorrow at 9AM,” you glance at the older woman. “That’s 9AM sharp. I don’t tolerate lateness in my courtroom.”

“Noted.” She says, brow furrowing, pressing her lips together. You sigh again and sit, there’s a flurry of activity as you exit and go back to your chambers. You’re halfway through a written statement when there’s a knock on the door, a silhouette in the glass panel.

“Ah, come in!” You call, and Hanma Shuuji scoots around the door and closes it behind him. “Mr. Hanma, I’m really not in the mood to hear that I was too hard on you.” He shakes his head, sitting down on one of the plush chairs in front of your desk, eyes flicking to your shapeless black robes that are hung carefully on a coat hook in the corner.

“That’s not what this is about.” He looks a little uncomfortable for a moment, more uncomfortable than he usually looks just trying to fit his long limbs in a normal sized chair. “Your honor,” you hold his gaze, “It’s about the Giordano Trial.”

“What about it?” You glance at the clock. “Detective Baji will be here soon and at this rate I won’t be done with paperwork until 8PM.”

“It’s about you working until 8PM. Or later.” He says quickly, his dark brows knitting together. “It’s not safe, your honor.” He smirks. “Even if you’re meeting with Detective Baji at,” he checks his phone and a mocking grin plays on his lips, “Ooooh, at 6PM. Tell me,” he leans forward, “Is your problem with me that I’m not poor enough, like if I showed up in the same shoes I’d been wearing for three years would that melt your icy heart?”

“First of all, Hanma,” you snap, “There’s nothing happening with Detective Baji, he has a case he wants me to consult on, I understand never getting laid is probably difficult for you and so you have to supplement with your pathetic imagination,” that makes him snort, “But I’ll thank you to keep your suggestions out of my chambers. Second of all, don’t tell me you’re here offering up your protective services from the Italian Mafia.” His grin only widens.

“Fuck no. Just a warning, and a suggestion to get a protective escort,” he yawns, “Not sure if Detective Baji was gonna stay over after.” He sings the police officers name.

“Thin ice.” You repeat, lips pressed together. He nods, considering.

“Also,” he leans back in the chair. “You’re hurting Haitani’s feelings by not fucking him.” Your eyebrows shoot to your scalp.

“Get out of my office.”

“Noted,” Hanma crows, scrambling to his feet, grabbing his coat and dashting towards the door, throwing it open and nearly slamming right into Detective Baji. The two men stand awkwardly in the doorway for a moment. “Be uh,” there’s something odd and genuine in Hanma’s eyes for just a second. “Take care.” You sigh deeply and rest your head on the desk as Baji closes the door behind him.

“The hell did he want?” He says, scowling.

“To be an asshole.” You mumble. “Him and Haitani wasted thousands of tax dollars on the most bullshit civil case I’ve ever seen today.” Baji sits down across from you, and you lift your head.

“Haitani can eat my entire asshole.” He grumbles, tying his long dark hair into a pony tail. That pulls a giggle from your lips. “So can Hanma, as far as I’m concerned.”

“So what’s the case you need a consult on, you know I’ll have to recuse myself if it comes to court.” He nods.

“I didn’t want to worry you.” He says gruffly. “So I didn’t tell you why I needed to see you.” he takes a folder out from under his arms. “Got this mailed to the precinct today. ‘Fuyu is running shit on it but,” he opens it and you take a deep breath. It’s a photo of you, making breakfast in your apartment, leaving, getting in your car, but in every shot you’ve been scribbled out with red marker.

“What, is this Giordano?” You say, narrowing your eyes.

“Not gonna freak out on me?” Baji says, genuine surprise in his voice.

“You’re usually a better judge of character than that.” You give him a weary smile. “Not my first rodeo, Detective.” He nods, balking the smallest degree at the use of his official title.

“I am remanding you to protective custody.” He says, and when you open your mouth to protest, “And don’t say shit to me about it, your honor.” You close your mouth.

“Fine. Is there a safehouse open, Detective? One without bed bugs?” He winces.

“There uh, there actually isn’t.”

“You’re fucking kidding me.” You pinch the bridge of your nose in frustration. “Tell accounts payable I’ll spring for a hotel.” Baji looks a little uncomfortable.

“There’s an option. One you’re not gonna like.” You narrow your eyes. “Giordano isn’t my case. You could crash at my apartment.”

“Do you have a guest room?” You ask delicately and he snorts.

“No. I have a couch.”

“And me, I would be on the couch?” He smirks at you.

“Why dontcha fuck around and find out, huh? Get your shit. You can finish your paperwork at my place.” You nod. “Or you could, y’know, go to bed at a reasonable hour.”

“Don’t act like you’re concerned about me.” You mumble, gathering your papers and slipping the folders into your briefcase. “Can one of your uniformed officers swing by my place and pack a suitcase for me?” Baji shakes his head.

“Can’t risk one of them being followed to my place. I’ll take ya tomorrow morning before work. Doesn’t matter if they follow you to court.” You glance at the pictures of you alone in your home before Baji scoots them back into a folder. He catches something, just a quick cloud of emotion passing your face. “Don’t worry about a thing, your honor.” A cocky grin spreads across his face. “You know my team has never lost an officer.” You look at him sharply.

“You’re in the major crimes unit.”

“I lead the major crimes unit. And no one who reports to me has ever come back in a body bag,” Baji brags, “I take care of my people.” You reach for your coat, slipping your arms into it.

“That is actually comforting. Thank you.” He smirks.

“C’mon, your honor.” He offers you his arm but you shake your head, leading him out of your chambers. Your heels click on the linoleum.

“When we are not in this building,” you press the elevator button, “To avoid awkwardness, I give you permission to call me by my last name, rather than my title.” He chuckles.

“Sounds good.” He looks over at you. “And for the record, once we leave this building, you’re a civilian, and you will do as I say.” You raise your eyebrows and take your glasses off, folding them and placing them in your pocket.

“Is that so?” You say smoothly, and he scowls.

“It absolutely fucking is!” He snaps, just in time for the two of you to round the corner on the three people you’d least want to see in this moment, Haitani Ran, Hanma Shuuji and Kisaki Tetta.

“Really?” Ran says immediately, upon seeing you with Baji. “Really? Is it because I’m rich, do you hate that I’m-”

“Bro I already asked her!” Hanma says excitedly, “I already asked her that, we’re on the same fucking wavelength.” You don’t miss a beat.

“Deeply unprofessional Mr. Haitani as always, and Mr. Hanma you were the one who suggested I needed to go into protective custody,” Baji balks a little at that but it’s barely noticeable. “Mr. Kisaki.” You nod and the blonde regards you coldly.

“Your honor.” You nod to the group and you and Baji turn to leave but Hanma jogs and catches up with you.

“So I was right,” He says, long strides easily matching yours and Baji’s. “Did they threaten Kakucho too?” Baji’s eyes narrow and he raises his voice.

“You know I’m not going to comment on an ongoing investigation.” He roars. “Get the fuck out of my sight, it’s after 5PM so legally I don’t have to look at you anymore.” Hanma cackles, but reaches out and touches your arm, giving it a little squeeze before darting away. Baji reacts like he’d hit you, whirling on the lawyer, and you watch him remember his rank and status in real time as he holds himself back from socking Hanma in the jaw.

“Relax, Detective.” You say softly, and it seems to work, Baji’s dark eyes melt a little at your tone. “They’re just upset because neither of them did well in court today.” You pause, “Which is odd, usually frankly they each have their moments of competence but this was not one of them.”

“Whatever.” Baji grumbles, leading you to the metal detectors and the big open doors. The grand entrance room of city hall has vaulting ceilings, conversations carry quickly. You watch as Baji takes his gun and holster, his badge and cell phone, and places it in a little bowl. You put your wallet and cell phone in one and step through the metal detector after him. He holds the door for you and you both step out into the cool december air. You start down the white steps in front of City Hall, but Detective Baji clears his throat. “Protective custody means I go first.” You swallow.

“Right. Sorry.” He shrugs, one hand curling around your upper arm and guiding you down the steps and to the parking garage.

“The hell do you think that’s about,” Hanma says, eyes narrowed as the two of you disappear around the corner.

“You don’t actually think you’ve got a shot there?” Ran responds, doubling his scarf and tucking it into his jacket. “If she won’t fuck me, I’ve got some bad news for you.” Hanma shakes his head.

“Nah I don’t wanna fuck her.” He says quietly, and Ran snorts.

“Yeah, alright.”

The train ride to Baji’s apartment is pleasant and quiet. His building isn’t quite as nice as yours, but he punches in a security code and undoes several locks before opening the door to his place. It’s a stereotypical bachelor pad, sports posters, a well worn couch, and a kitchen that looks like it’s never been used.

“Want a beer?” he offers and you shrug.

“Do you have wine?” You ask, slipping out of your coat.

“I have whiskey.” He confirms and you nod.

“Yes, that.” He takes a beer out of the fridge and opens it, tugging his hair out of it’s ponytail. You can see the streaks of grey in it now. “Tell me,” he reaches up to a cabinet and takes a bottle of Lagavulin down. “Tell me about how Haitani and Hanma ate ass in court today, that’ll make me feel better.” You laugh lightly.

“Ah, they brought a wage theft civil case in front of me,” you explain, “And thought I wouldn’t notice it was a stepdaughter suing her stepmother because she filed with her biological mother’s last name.” Baji cackles.

“I’m sure they shit their pants when they heard they got you in court.”

“I hate bullshit cases.” You shake your head, Baji hands you the glass of whiskey. “I hate bullshit, period.”

“You know,” he watches you move some laundry over so that you can sit on the couch. “You’d have made a kickass D.A.”

“You’d have hated me.” You say, with a little shrug. “I’m a hardass on my cops when I’m prosecuting. Sneeze on evidence wrong and I’ll throw it out.”

“But that’s what makes you good at this,” Baji protests, and there’s a little spark of warmth in your chest. “I want you to hold the police on my force to the highest possible fucking standard, forget sneezing on it, if any of my cops mishandle evidence, if they breathe on it wrong I want that shit gone.”

“And that,” you respond, more warmth in your voice then Baji’s heard, maybe ever, “Is what makes you so good at your job, Detective.” Baji sighs, leaning against the counter.

“Detective, huh? When we’re out at the bar you call me Baji.”

“You’re on duty.” You take another sip of whiskey. He nods, putting his beer on the

counter. A little smirk crosses his face. “What?”

“Hanma didn’t seem to like that I was the one takin’ care of ya.”

“None of them actually want anything to do with me.” You take another sip of your whiskey and let it burn it’s way down your throat. “Men like that lust after powerful women, they have this fantasy of submission, right?” Baji nods, coming to join you on the couch. “But the truth is, once they realize that being with an ambitious woman means long hours, it means tough days, it means someone who won’t take their bullshit, they’re in the wind. They’ll find themselves some, usually much younger woman, who is satisfied with being taken care of.”

“Sounds lonely.” He says, leaning back against the arm of the couch. You shrug.

“I’m the most reliable person I know. I take care of me. I’ll never need a man like Haitani, or Hanma, or Sano to take care of me.”

“Sano’s not so bad,” Baji protests and you roll your eyes.

“How could I forget that you all get together and play poker every weekend?” He shakes his head.

“Yeah well, Hanma, Haitani and Tetta are absolutely not invited to that. Sano and I went to high school together.” You nod. He looks at you sharply. “You like Kakucho.” You shrug.

“I work with Kakucho.”

“Huh.” Baji takes another sip of his beer. Something occurs to him, “So if what those men need, to be satisfied, is someone young and low maintenance,” you laugh.

“If you like your credit card not maxxed out, they’re high maintenance.”

“You and I both know that all of them make more than we’re gonna take home in our entire careers.” He shrugs. “Or at least me, given that I can’t go corporate.”

“I don’t want to practice law again.” You counter, “Or run for office. So I think their income will continue to far exceed ours,” you give him a warm smile, “But with job we get our moral high horse. It’s almost as sweet as a mansion with a pool.” He returns your smile.

“You didn’t let me ask my question.”

“Go ahead.”

“What,” He puts his beer on the table, “What satisfies you?” You give him a little smile.

“Nothing.” You whisper.

“Really?” He raises his eyebrows.

“I’m a big empty black hole of want.” You finish your drink, and hold the cool glass in your palms. “I do something, and I want to do better, I get something, and I want more. Nothing is good enough. Ever. Nothing satisfies me, I’m,” you look for the right word. “Hungry. I suppose.” There’s a pause.

“You suppose.” He muses. “I think I might be the same.” He looks away from you. “Hungry.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” You place your glass on his coffee table. He nods.

“It makes me better at my job, there’ll always be another asshole who deserves to suffer for what he’s done, and I’m the man to make sure he unequivocally suffers.”

“Some would say prison is about rehabilitation.” You quip and he shrugs.

“I used to believe in that. Then I stared down a guy who’d murdered his five year old daughter after she walked in on him fuckin’ the nanny.” He shakes his head. “No remorse.” You shiver. “Sorry,” he says gruffly. “Not very good conversation, I guess.” You don’t absolve him.

“If it helps the um,” you gesture to him, “The hunger makes you better at this.” He nods. “I’ll tell you something, if you promise to keep it a secret.” He nods. “I’m a little afraid. For this trial. The Giordano Crime syndicate are old money, and well embedded into the city’s elite. I’ve gotten threats before but they’ve been small time.” Baji considers.

“What if I told ya to c’mere?” He grunts, lifting an arm. To his shock and subsequent delight you scoot underneath him, he nestles you against his chest. “You know you’re gonna be fair.” He says, and you nod. “And you know that if anyone comes through that door I’m gonna put a bullet in their chest.” You swallow. His hand comes to rest on your waist.

“Thank you.” You don’t move away from him, he smells like cologne and cigarettes.

“That suit can’t be comfortable.” He says quietly.

“It’s not.” You mumble, and he moves a little, pushing your jacket off your shoulders. “Baji.” You caution.

“What?” He asks, and you feel his lips at your temple.

“I don’t sleep with cops, lawyers, or politicians.” You respond, looking up at him. He doesn’t seem phased.

“Make an exception.” You feel his lips on your cheek, on your jaw, “Lemme make you feel good, for a bit. Y’work so hard.” You feel his hands, cool on the plush of your thighs, slowly parting them, with no resistance from you.

“Baji,” you say again, but this time you sound less sure,

“What if tonight,” he puts one hand on your clavicle, laying you down on the pile of laundry on the couch, “You just pretended I wasn’t a cop,”

“I-” You go to protest but he unzips the back of your skirt so smoothly, and starts easing it down.

“Why dontcha just,” his voice is matches on tinder, deep gravel that goes right to your sex, “Pretend I’m some dirty,” you feel him slip your panties to the side, “Mechanic,” you laugh a little but it turns into a moan when he licks up your slit. “I’m just gonna make sure everything down here is in workin’ order,” he growls, and you feel his hand anchor around your thighs, “Been awhile since anyone touched ya like this, huh?”

“Yes,” you breathe, your back arching off the couch with even the most careful light touches.

“Hmmmm,” he hums, kissing your clit softly, smirking at your desperate moan, “That seems just fine,” he slips a finger inside you, “What about this, huh, this workin’ ok?” He curls it inside you and you sit straight up gasping, hands flying to his wrist.

“Baji, I shouldn’t-”

“Shouldn’t what,” He lifts his head to look at you, “Shouldn’t let yourself experience pleasure, the hell is-”

“I shouldn’t sleep with a cop, even, even a good cop, even a police officer who is sexy, and smart, and kind.” You protest. “Even a police officer who is funny, and sexy, and really really good at his job.” He pauses, withdrawing his hands from you and flashing his palms.

“You said sexy twice y’know.” He manages a smirk.

“Oh dear.” You huff a little sigh. “Did I?”

“You did.” He stands, “Lemme getcha some clothes to sleep in huh?” You nod, swallowing hard.

“I’m sorry.” You call over your shoulder and he stops, turning around to look at you. He stares at you intently for a moment, before leaning against the wall and closing his eyes.

“Whatcha scared of?” He asks, and you swallow nervously. “C’mon sweetheart,” he says and then holds up a hand, “Yeah I know I’m the only guy who can call you that without gettin’ eviscerated.” You consider lying, and decide against it.

“You have instant credibility hanging between your legs.” You pull your panties back up. “I didn’t get so lucky. I can’t be the Judge who fucks cops sometimes, or the judge who fucks lawyers, and keep my reputation and career.”

“And the politicians?” Baji asks with a crooked grin.

“That’s more of a matter of personal preference.”

“Jesus,” he turns his back on you and walks to his bedroom, “You could stop bein’ funny and smart for a little bit and maybe I’d stop tryin’ to melt that cold cold heart of yours.” If Baji had been watching your face, instead of changing out of his suit he’d have seen the way those words stung on your face, taking you by surprise enough so that you can’t keep it from your face. By the time he steps back out the pain is gone from your face.

“For you,” he hands you a pair of sweatpants and a soft T-shirt. “For the record.” He picks up your empty glass and takes it to the sink. “I don’t mind bein’ friends with badass women. So I’m not gonna stop havin’ lunch with you, and having you over for the games and shit,” he gestures to the nicest thing in his apartment, a flatscreen TV. “Just because you’re not gonna fuck me.”

“That’s actually um,” you consider, “That’s very kind of you.”

“You will be on the couch though.” he says, leaving again and returning with a pillow and comforter. “Bathrooms there, and I’m gonna order a pizza and watch the hockey game.”

“Sounds good to me.” You change and the two of you settle in for the evening, you hug a pillow to your chest as he swears violently at his ever losing hometown heroes. You’re starting to drift off to sleep, head perilously close to Baji’s shoulder when his beeper explodes in the kitchen. He leaps up with athleticism you didn’t know he possessed, diving for his cell phone. “Baji.” He answers, then looks sharply at you. “Got it. She’s secure, but we’ll meet you at the hospital.”

“What’s happening?”

“Shoes,” he orders, and you scramble, grabbing your phone and wallet as you shove your feet into a pair of Baji’s slippers, comically large on your feet. You wrap your scarf around your neck and he draws his weapon.

“Detective-”

“I’ll answer once we’re in my car.” He says. He takes you down the few flights of stairs to the parking garage under his building, and searches the car, an old brown sedan, before having you get in the passenger seat and turning the key in the ignition. “Kakucho’s been shot, it’s bad, he’s at Mercy Memorial.”

“Fuck.” The tires squeal and he pulls out of the parking garage. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. How bad is it?”

“Bad.” Baji says gruffly, flying through the icy night. It’s late enough so that there isn’t much traffic. “He was down at a bar with a few of his friends from school and someone just opened fire, a couple of them were hurt, but they’re fine. It’s Kakucho, he was the target, and he’s in surgery.”

“O-okay, was it Giordano?”

“We don’t know yet.” Baji grits his teeth. “But I’d say likely, yeah, or someone they hired. This’ll push the case back, maybe a long time. We don’t even have another D.A. right now because Mcellan is on maternity leave.” You groan loudly.

“So what, what are they-”

“Let’s focus on the issue at hand, and get briefed when I get there.” He looks over at you. “I want you within two feet of me at all times. Understood?” You nod. “I’m dead fucking serious, right now, I am an officer of the law and you are a civilian.”

“Yes, detective.” You say quickly and he nods, pulling up and parking illegally before leaping over the hood and pulling you out of the front seat.

“For the record,” Baji’s hair flys behind him, “If I had someone to leave you with, I would have left you with them.”

“I want to be here.” He leads you across the parking lot and into the ER. “Akkun,” He yells to an exhausted looking man with pink styled hair,

“It’s doctor,” the young man protests.

“It’s resident.” A woman with short silver hair cuts him off. “Detective, the others are in the waiting room, Kakucho is in surgery with Dr. Kurokawa.” She glances at you. “And you, miss? Can I help you?”

“Dr. Senju this is Judge L/n.” Baji scoots in front of you. “She’s in protective custody and needs to stay with me.” The woman sighs, and you can feel her eyes lingering on Baji for just a second too long.

“Akkun.” She says shortly. “Show them where to go.” The young resident nods and leads you up several flights of stairs into a waiting room. Everyone stands when the two of you burst in, there are cops there, you recognize Detective Ryugi, and the rest of them are lawyers. Mikey Sano, Haitani, Hanma, and Sanzu all turn to you, eyes wide. Baji turns to you, and points with his gun at a seat.

“Sit.” He orders. “And stay.” He goes over to the other Detective and you collapse in the plastic chair. Haitani, Hanma and Sanzu make a beeline for you while Mikey takes a call on his cell phone.

“Look at you,” Hanma says. “You know I didn’t actually think you were fucking the Detective, but damn good for-”

“I’m not.” You cut him off. “I’m in protective custody. He just lent me some clothes because all the safehouses have bedbugs.”

“Well we both know you’re saving your heart for me,” Ran winks at you, but even for him it’s a halfhearted deflection that you choose not to dignify with a snippy comeback.

“You good?” Hanma asks, shifting his weight nervously. You nod.

“What about all of you, were you there?” Your eyes widen at Mikey, who’s left arm is bandaged.

“He just got nicked.” Sanzu confirms. “He’s fine.”

“Are all of you alright?” You ask quietly.

“Yeah,” Hanma says, studying you. “Do you care if we’re okay?” He waits for you to banter back but your eyes widen.

“Hanma of course I do.” The double doors to the room open and a tall lean man, with violet eyes and white bleached hair tied back in a bun strides into the room. The surgeon's scrubs are bloody but his eyes are laser focused.

“Kakucho Hitto is stable for now in a medically induced coma.” There’s a silence and Izana’s eyes sweep across the room, settling on you. “Ah, oh, hi.” He hooks his thumbs in his pockets, a blush dusting his cheeks.

“It’s nice to see you Izana.” You say, wishing you hadn’t washed your makeup off.

“Izana?” Ran hisses to Sanzu, “Izana?”

“We went out a couple times.” You stand and push past the group of lawyers.

“Six times.” Dr. Kurokawa says quickly.

“Yes.” You chew your bottom lip. “That’s correct. It was 6. I forgot.” He nods to you.

“You’re not um,” he looks, as close to flustered as a man like Izana Kurokawa gets. “You’re not in need of medical attention?” Detective Baji swings in, to your rescue.

“We need to know a recovery time estimation and if you’ve retrieved any full or partial bullet fragments.” You sigh with relief as soon as Izana’s attention isn’t on you any more. You stare at the floor for a moment, calculating something.

“The state is almost certainly going to need a new prosecutor.” You say quietly, and feel three pairs of eyes on you. “There’s no one from Kakucho’s office who’s up for prosecuting Giordano, after this, people will quit over it.” You shake your head. “It’s a fucking shame.”

“Just get someone else?” Ran says. “How hard can it be to find a competent lawyer?”

“Why don’t you list all the reasons none of you work for the state?” Ran shudders.

“You’re correct, actually.” Hanma eyes you warily for a moment, but you stride over to Detective Ryuguji and start asking him questions, he overhears the word, next of kin. You hear a wail down the hallways and a beautiful woman pushes through the double doors, in pajamas and a robe. She pushes past you and slips between Detective Ryuguji and your body, throwing his arms around his neck, crying in an aching, raw way. You scoot awkwardly backwards and Hanma waves you over to the side, leaving the other lawyers.

“That’s his wife. Kakucho’s.” You massage your temples. “Late for ya?” Hanma asks, and you nod, checking the clock, it’s a bit after midnight. “Don’t push our 9AM,” he begs, and you laugh. “I had to talk to my client for ages to make sure she understood she had to be on time.”

“I would never.” You give him a little smile. Kakucho’s wife is despondent, and loud, accosting a nurse demanding to speak to Izana who has since disappeared into the operation room.

“You should do it.” He says quietly. “Stand in for the D.A. There are plenty of judges on the circuit, but you should represent the states case against Giordano.” You look at him sharply. “I’m serious.” You sigh.

“I haven’t practiced in years, Hanma.” The lanky man shrugs. “The state will figure it out.”

“I googled your record.” He leans down to speak even more quietly. “No wonder you don’t take shit from any of us.” A small smile plays on your face.

“Well, I was good.” He watches something sad manifest in your expression. “Emphasis on was.” Something beeps on the nurse's belt and Kakucho’s wife gasps as the nurse ignores her and whirls around back into the OR. A silence falls. Every person in the room has eyes on slowly swinging double doors, until they are still. Slowly each person drifts to a seat, Hanma and Ran settling on either side of you. You stare at your hands, refusing to look at either man. It’s half an hour of full silence, Baji holds your gaze every few minutes. Dr. Izana Kurokawa pushes his way through the doors a few minutes later, a grim expression on his face. He pulls Kakucho’s wife aside and says something very quietly to her. She breaks down, wailing, falling to her knees. Izana stays with her for a moment, but his eyes flick to you, and he waves you over.

“F/n.” He says quietly. “This is serious. How much do you trust each of these Detectives?” Your brow furrows.

“Baji and Ryuguji I would trust with my life, the rest of them about as far as I can throw them.” Izana nods.

“I know Mikey is opposing counsel for the state on Monday, provided the trial won’t be postponed.” You nod quickly. “If he pries, I will call you.” You nod slowly.

“Please.”

“The Giordanos,” Izana considers carefully, “They’ve ruled this city for a few generations. Ronald Giordano deserves to go to prison, in my opinon.”

“I can’t comment on that.”

“I know.” Izana says quickly. “So who’s gonna pick up the case?” You sigh.

“Unclear.” He reaches out and gives your arm a little squeeze. “Izana,” you whisper, “How much danger am I in, you know these men, you know Mikey, he’s their lawyer, he’s always been their lawyer.” Izana shifts his weight nervously.

“A lot of danger.” He pauses, “You look beautiful, even dressed like this.” You shake your head at him. “You’d be safe in my penthouse.” He takes your hand and palms you an electronic key. “Please meet me there, with the detectives. I’ll tell you all what I know.” You look at him sharply. “And no pressure,” he practically hums, “But obviously I’d prefer you stay.”

“We’ll see.” You hedge.

“We will.” He nods. “Yes we will.”