#I'm too young to testify in court

[lwjsbedtime]

I think a MDZS Psych AU would be hilarious. WWX's this super observant genius who remembers everything he sees and can easily guess people's true motives, but it only ever gets him into trouble.

First, YZY hates him for getting better grades than JC, then he's kicked out of LP for calling WC on his lies at a charity gala, effectively blackening the Jiang name. After leaving, he gets caught up in a plot to assassinate him, which leads to him testifying against the Wens in court - which leads to a new, intense interest in seeking justice for those who can't.

...Unfortunately, even this gets him in trouble. WWX's called in one too many tips to the local police station and now he's a suspect! Oh woe! Whatever is he to do?! They're going to lock him up and throw away the key!

LWJ, an up and coming officer with a decade long crush on WWX: Do not worry. I will speak with Uncle to clear your na-

WWX promptly decides to announce that he's psychic.

"Impossible!"

LQR...doesn't believe it. No one really believes it, but LXC takes the opportunity to hire WWX as a consultant for cases...

"...Otherwise not easily solved," he explains delicately, very subtly not winking at his brother who's also very subtly not eavesdropping on their conversation. "You would of course be working with Wangji."

WWX considers it for a moment: a well paying job that interests him, and he gets to bother LWJ all day? How could he possibly say no?

And so he doesn't. In fact, he agrees.

WWX and LWJ become partners. LWJ the dashing young police officer, WWX the spooky, scary crackpot-

"Do not insult yourself, Wei Ying," LWJ chastises.

WWX can't help but swoon. "So protective of my reputation LZ!"

"Mn."

LWJ has good reason to be protective - and of more than just WWX's reputation. Since becoming 'psychic', WWX's attracted a number of very vocal detractors who find his methods disrespectful - along with several enemies in high places who can't afford to have their secrets uncovered.

Thankfully, LZ is always there to keep him safe. And when LZ's busy, WN is willing to step in and help.

(WWX is somehow blind to both LWJ's boundless adoration, and the fact that he's essentially employed WN as a part-time bodyguard behind his back.)

Still, no system is perfect. While investigating the murder of a local debutante, WWX is captured by one of his enemies' lackeys - Jin Zixun.

"...Who?" he asks, drawing a blank.

Jin Zixun pokes his finger in WWX's face. "You-! Don't you remember everything? How can you pretend not to know me?!"

WWX blinks. He's sure he's never seen this person before in his life. But when he says as much, Jin Zixun looks fit to beat him.

Thankfully, before things can get too heated, LZ breaks into the warehouse they're keeping WWX in and rescues him. Is this another swooning moment? Of course! Any moment is a good swooning moment with LZ around.

"Mn," LWJ agrees, picking WWX up in a bridal carry (after arresting the bad guys, of course).

WWX laughs, hiding his cherry-red face in LWJ's neck.

"LZ!" he whines, batting his partner's chest. "Don't just agree with me! Think about my heart."

LWJ tilts WWX's chin back, so he can look him in the eyes as he says, "I think of nothing else."

WWX almost swoons for real. What an unexpected confession! Maybe he isn't as observant as he's given credit for?

"Ridiculous," LWJ denies, "You are very observant. Just not psychic."

WWX laughs so much he almost falls out of LWJ's arms. Thankfully, LWJ is stronger than he looks.

"I am so psychic!" he argues once he's caught his breath. "I'm getting a vision right now!"

"Oh?" LWJ's raised brow shows exactly how little he believes Wei Ying.

"It's true!" WWX says. "I see...! It's us! We're standing side by side and...we're getting married! We're gonna be together forever, er gege."

Heart in his throat, he looks up to find LWJ staring back at him with dark, hungry eyes.

"Mark your words," he says in a growl, and WWX gulps.

That day, LWJ becomes a little less sceptical of his new fiance's preternatural powers, and WWX becomes a firm believer in LWJ's physical prowess. 😉

----

Jin Zixun, some hours later, still handcuffed to a chair in the abandoned warehouse: Hello? I think you forgot me? ...Hello??

[dyns33]

A story of witch

Happy Valentine day !

As a gift, here a looooooooong Morpheus x female reader.

Careful, some spoilers here, from the comics and so maybe from season 2.

Time had a different hold on witches.

A certain influence, because contrary to common beliefs, nothing escaped time and nothing was perfectly eternal, but it slipped over them as long as they decided, and had enough magic to repel its effects.

Y/N had already been walking on Earth for several centuries when she met Morpheus.

She had heard many legends about the Endless. Rumors. Lots of warnings, especially regarding Dream, who was described as a changeable, dangerous, angry and resentful being.

Her many sisters whispered to each other that becoming his lover was as much a gift as a curse. He would offer you the whole world on a platter, he would do everything to please you, and then one day, without warning, you would no longer suit him, you would do something wrong according to him, the feelings would no longer be as strong, and then misfortune would strike you.

The king would always find a way to blame you for this new emotional failure. Then you risked Hell, endless nightmares, eternal sleep.

Too much hassle for little benefit.

Y/N didn’t think about any of that when she met Morpheus. Neither to the wonders he could offer her, nor to the torments he risked inflicting on her.

For a witch, some might have thought that she was young, still naive, far too in love with her books and grimoires, fascinated by stories, and therefore vulnerable to the charms of the dreams master.

She didn't think she would fall in love. Neither did he. The mourning of his marriage and his child were still recent, for a being such as him. Y/N had barely been born when this tragedy had happened.

The subject was not brought up, like none of his former lovers. Morpheus did not forget, he never forgot, but when a new relationship began, he did not look back to compare with the previous ones.

No doubt it was a mistake on his part, who then never learned from his mistakes.

Y/N hadn’t had as many relationships as him. Witches have the luxury of immortality, and they knew the consequences of it. Bonding with mortals wasn't a good idea, even less so with their peers. Too risky. Too dangerous.

Attempting to see the future in dreams could have been described with the same words. Y/N was taking the risk of being punished by two Endless, Destiny and Dream.

But Destiny never interfered in anything, and Dream was intrigued by the little witch, asking her not to repeat her experiments, but welcoming her into his domain.

As they walked in his garden, the inhabitants of the Dreaming knew before them what was going to happen.

"Your flowers are beautiful. Everything is beautiful here."

“Would you like to see my library ?”

"Oh, I'd love to ! But you must have a lot to do, I don't want to bother you more than necessary."

"You don't bother me, mikri magissa. You are welcome here."

It took a while for Y/N to realize that they were getting closer. The courting of the king of stories was subtle, ethereal like him, full of poems and tenderness while doing without many words far too heavy with meaning, and at the same time far too limited to convey all the ardor of their love.

Because they loved each other, there was no doubt about it. The end of their story came quickly, although to a mortal three centuries seemed like a lot. At the same time, those who knew Morpheus well could testify that this was quite a long time for a relationship with him. But as always with his relationships, there had to be an end.

“I’m just saying he’s not wrong.”

"You don't know what you're talking about, o mágos mou. This man is insane and I'm not lonely."

“However, I have felt you far from me for some time now. Perhaps forever.”

"Don't I love you more than anything ? Haven't I shown you my love on many occasions ?"

"I don't know. It's difficult for me to know with you, immutable and yet so variable. Sometimes you give so much, too much, and sometimes not enough, if it's not nothing. There is no middle ground with you. Probably not with me either. It's possible that I'll ask you impossible things."

“Nothing is impossible for me.”

“Yet you refuse to speak, to really speak. You flee this kind of discussion, as you fled the friendship of this man.”

“Don’t push me, Agápe μου.”

Y/N left the Dreaming that night knowing she wasn’t coming back. Morpheus' indifference to her departure could have been seen as fortunate, but it hurt her deeply. He didn't try to catch her, he didn't try to punish her either.

Even though it seemed obvious after several weeks that he would not pursue her, neither in her dreams nor in the Waking, Y/N took precautions to prevent their paths from crossing again. Using several spells, rituals, amulets and ancient seals, she ensured that her mind was cut off from the realm of her former lover.

This protection proved very useful when the sleeping sickness arrived.

Like the rest of the world, Y/N didn't immediately understand what was happening. She knew Dream enough to know that he would never neglect his work like that, that he would not abandon his position unless forced to do so, and that despite all the cruelty and resentment he was capable of, he would never do such a thing to the dreamers.

Something had happened, but she didn't know what.

Too afraid of what he could do to her if she went into the Dreaming, or what could happen to her sleep without the protections, Y/N didn't try to find out. It wasn't her business anyway, since they were no longer together and the fate of humanity wasn't part of her responsibilities.

Time continued to pass, and she still tried to help mortals when she could, with potions and incantations to help them sleep, or on the contrary wake up, ensuring that their nights were not entirely nightmares.

But this was difficult, because she was not the master of dreams. Without knowing it, she came very close to Morpheus the day her steps led her near a mansion with dark, gloomy energies, which she did not wish to approach too closely. However, there was something, abandoned under a tree near the property, which attracted her with strong force.

The body of a raven. A raven different from the others, a dream. Jessamy. Someone had shot her and she lay there, lifeless, far from her creator, far from her home.

Y/N took the poor thing with her. Necromancy being prohibited, it was not good to anger Death, and the existence of dreams being a complex thing, she did the only thing in her power, to offer a decent burial to the little emissary whom she had loved very much and who had often helped her control Morpheus' moods.

When collective sleep returned to normal, there were no signs. Nothing that made it possible to understand what had happened. Curious by nature, the witch repeated to herself that she should not try to understand. The rumors would spread quickly.

She heard about Burgess. Whispers recounted the long confinement of the maker of nightmares, who had taken revenge before setting off in search of his stolen instruments in order to rebuild his kingdom. Twice he went to the Underworld, he faced a Vortex, he fell in love. Nothing really new, just the same story over and over again.

Y/N didn’t want to know any of this, but the choice wasn’t hers. One of her sisters came to visit without being invited, and to ask her advice.

“I don’t see how I can help you, big sister.”

"You have experienced what I am experiencing. Tell me how to escape from Oneiros, because I no longer wish to see him and he does not seem ready to accept it."

The rumors had not mentioned the fact that Morpheus had fallen in love with a witch again. Older than Y/N, more powerful, crueler too, because Thessaly had little interest in things of the heart.

" … I repeat, I'm not sure I can help you. Make sure you don't inspire him with any more feelings and you'll be free."

"Sweet little sister, he still loves you and yet he left you alone. I'm asking for this."

"He doesn't love me. He didn't love me for a long time when I left."

"We argued often and each time my wing of the castle was razed and then rebuilt under his orders. There is no trace of his former companions left in all of the Dreaming. None, except you. He did not touch your room. He denied me access to it. He recreated it with everything else after his return. Can you tell me that doesn't mean anything ?"

Y/N didn’t respond. She didn't know what to answer, she didn't know about all this. Her eldest whispered that she was almost jealous. Many times she had wondered if she had gotten his attention because of their similarities, because she reminded him of his lost love.

It might be a good idea for her younger sister to discuss it with the Lord of Dreams.

"Or not. That would allow me to slip away without him probably noticing, but I can't wish harm on one of ours. I'll find a way."

This time, Y/N closed herself off to the whispers, not wanting to know if Thessaly had found this way.

Part of her wished the best for the lord of stories, who had suffered far too much in the last century despite all his wrongs, and who did not deserve to receive another injury. Another part didn't like knowing the older witch was with Dream.

She was afraid for her sister, and she was afraid for Morpheus, whose fickle heart was more fragile than he wanted to admit. The consequences were likely to be terrible for everyone.

Filled with memories, Y/N wanted to visit Jessamy’s grave. A powerful spell had hidden it from the eyes of the world, to prevent it from being desecrated, and she wondered if she had not made a mistake in doing so, for it was possible that Morpheus had never known where his faithful emissary rested.

But the magic of ravens was special, these beings knew things, and she shouldn't have been surprised to find one of them on the tree that protected the location.

"Good morning." she said politely, making new flowers appear near the grave.

"Hi. Do we know each other ? I feel like I know you."

"I don't think we've ever met. You're Dream's new raven."

"Yeah, Matthew. I don't know why I'm here. I'm sort of drawn to it, and Lucienne told me to follow my instincts for this sort of thing, but I don't understand. Are you the one calling me ?"

“I think it’s more your predecessor that you are feeling.”

"Jessamy ? Oh… The boss thought her body was destroyed or something. Were you the one who buried her ? That's nice of you. You don't look really surprised to see a talking raven. I feel like I'm supposed to know you. You seem important."

"Not really, no."

"The boss could tell me but he's busy at the moment. He's accompanying his sister on a quest. Good, it's keeping him busy. It's been raining too much since his break up, it's been days. Merv told me that it was almost always like that, frankly it's painful to watch. The time with this Nada, the time with his ex-wife, the time with another witch… I don't know what he has with witches. I didn't like her at all, she was mean."

“It rained in the Dreaming when I left ?” Y/N couldn’t help but ask, surprised by the news.

Before that day, she had always believed that her departure had had no impact. A total, cold indifference, showing that she no longer mattered. But Thessaly had talked about her room, and Matthew had talked about the rain, and Y/N didn't know what to think at all now.

She had left Morpheus because of his inability to communicate, the distance he put between himself and the whole world. His grand declarations of love always seemed hollow, lacking something.

Maybe he had changed. He would never have allowed his emissary to speak as Matthew did, who was moving around on his tree asking a thousand questions about the relationship between his boss and Y/N. He even allowed himself to order her to leave, because he really didn't need Dream falling into depression again by seeing her through his eyes.

"He's got enough problems, he… Oh. Oh, no. I feel it, he's there. Shit, shit, shit. I have to go !"

Years without any news and within moments Y/N hearing about her former lover almost every day. Until someone came to her door and she found herself face to face with Morpheus.

He seemed embarrassed. He had always been awkward in the waking world, out of place, because dreams hardly survived in reality. But there was something else. He would never have bothered to knock before. He would have come into her house to say what he had to say, demanding that she listen to him, and agree with him at the end.

Without saying anything, he observed her as if he were seeing her for the first time, turning his gaze towards her bedroom, the door of which was surrounded by several symbols used to repel dreams and nightmares. Y/N expected this to make him angry. He had already not liked her touching his domain when they first met.

"I thought you followed my sister into the sunless lands…" he whispered, looking down. "I no longer felt your presence in the Dreaming. I didn't think you were running away from me. It didn't seem to me that I gave you reasons to run away."

“I wasn’t sure you���d be happy to see me again.”

"I have waited a long time for the day when I would have the joy of seeing your sweet face again. It never came, but I am the one responsible for it. You were right about Hob Gadling, You were right about many things but I didn't listen, and I lost you. It was one of my greatest regrets."

“Why are you talking like that ?” Y/N asked as she approached, their hands almost touching.

"Mikri magissa, so much has happened. I am at a crossroads, with a big decision to make. I admit to being afraid, and you give me courage."

“Maybe I can help you ?”

"Even if you could, I wouldn't ask you. The search for my little sister is dangerous, a lot of blood has been shed since we left in search of our brother and I couldn't bear to see it happen to you. I had agreed to help her to see someone again, without understanding that it was you I secretly wanted to see, and now I must find a way to console my sister, disappointed by my lack of investment. But the only way we have left is one that I dare not name."

Y/N had briefly met Morpheus' family, including Destruction and Delirium.

The prodigal had spoken to her little before his retirement, but he had seemed tired, reaching the limits of his functions and no longer seeing the point of remaining with all the inventions of mortals and immortals which fulfilled his role perfectly without he needs to intervene. His siblings did not understand his decision.

One of the most affected by his departure had been Delirum, very close to his brother, who would have given anything for a family reunion.

"If this means your downfall, I can't believe Delirium would ask such a thing of you." Y/N said indignantly, not daring to come any closer. “There must be something else.”

"I don't think my younger sister is aware of what she's asking of me, nor do I think it's possible for me to go any other way without putting someone else in danger. I just came to see you, and thank you for what you did for Jessamy, and for the dreamers during my absence. I hadn't seen all these acts of kindness. But maybe it's you who didn't want to see me again. Not with my behavior. Oh, mágos mou… I so wanted to be better for you, but I could only change by going through all these trials, and for that I had to lose you."

It felt like goodbye, and Y/N didn’t like it. By definition, the Endless had no end, at least not while there was life in the universe. Without thinking, she placed her hand on Dream's cheek. He usually hated it, being touched, especially without permission, but he closed his eyes with a happy sigh, pressing his skin against hers.

Asking him if he was okay seemed stupid, but the question left her lips, and when his eyes opened again, they had a strange glow. He muttered that no one had asked him that question since his release. It was almost years ago. In truth, no one had asked him that question, even before he was captured.

Like he said, it could be because he had changed, and he didn't really deserve to be asked if he was okay before. And now that he was making an effort, that he was understanding, that he was improving, it was too late.

"I'll find a way. I'll talk to your sister."

“Delirium has always loved you.” he sighed. "My whole family, I think. I never noticed that our relationship is the only one that Desire hasn't tried to sabotage. But maybe they knew that I would sabotage it on my own."

“Let me talk to her.”

Much to Morpheus' surprise, his younger sister listened to Y/N. She even seemed to become Delight again for a moment, as the witch promised to find Destruction, even if it would take time. She just had to be patient, but also accept that it was possible that their brother didn't want to be found.

It was his decision to leave, as it was her decision to change, and Dream's decision to stay the same. But if she asked him to continue their quest, horrible things could happen, and she might lose another member of her family.

"… Okay. But you promise to look ?"

“I swear on our mother’s first ledger.”

"Several people have died trying to help us, Delirium… It's not safe to…"

"Oh, shut up. You'll be with her to protect her, you didn't care about the others. You're probably happy that Y/N came back. I'm happy too, she's nice, you two were good together. If you find our brother, then everything will be perfect."

Several spells, formulas and sacrifices were necessary to find the trail of the Prodigal, or Destruction took pity on them by inviting them to join him, but they talked, and as Y/N had predicted, he did not wish to return, but he entrusted them with a dog to give to his little sister.

Before disappearing between the stars, he took his big brother by the hand, walking together near the cliff, and whispering something to him.

"What did he say ?" Y/N couldn’t help but ask.

"He told me not to make the same mistakes and to think about myself for once. Not about my position, not about my kingdom, about nothing but me, and about you. O mágos mou, it's been a long time, but if you…"

The kiss cut him off in the middle of his question, time seemed to stop, and it was as if they had never left each other.

[royal-confessions]

“Harald and Sonja and Haakon and Mette Marit are not good parents IMO, they are enablers. I'm not blaming them for anything Martha Louise and Marius has done, but tough love is part of being a parent if you know that they are straying. Every young person will do the most stupid things if you let them. The measure of a good parent to me is having children who are self-reliant. Notice how not one in the family seems interested in having jobs other than becoming influencers? They don't even bother with university studies despite having all the means in the world. Yes, Spain has Victoria Federica and Netherlands has Eloise, but Infanta Cristina's sons have jobs, even Froilan who used to be a trouble maker has a job, Eloise's siblings and other cousins also look like they have no interest in following her footsteps, Nikolai and Felix model but Nikolai just graduated from university, and in Belgium all of Astrid's older kids have jobs and lives far from the spotlight.” - Submitted by Anonymous

“I have a soft spot for Harald and Sonja but they might be too forgiving with their children and grandchildren and it's not helping any of them. Martha Louise was trouble before she got married the first time and had kids. She was accused of having an affair with a married man and Harald decided to use her diplomatic immunity so she would not have to testify in court. Now she's marrying a scammer and none of her kids have a proper job (the only reason they are getting attention is because of who they are, the eldest might be talented but she never had to struggle to get her artwork seen). I was happy that they let Haakon marry whoever he wanted, but now their granddaughter who is set to be a queen is haunted by her mother's past and her half brother's antics, I can't forget the jokes people were making about her sniffing cocaine on her 18th birthday.” - Submitted by Anonymous

[atopvisenyashill]

Top 5 smallfolk characters?

NICE QUESTION!!!!!!!!!!!!

THE COURT ATOP VISENYA'S HILL BABEEEEE. I'm making Sylvie, Essie, and Gaemon all one bullet point here so they don't dominate the whole thing but I love them so so much. The family they build against all odds, the desperate attempt to gain some sort of control over a king’s landing that has descended into chaos, the reforms they attempt to push - and the way their own reforms are SOO popular that it forces the other two Kings to start offering food and safety as well!! - and the sad, tragic end of Essie and Sylvie while poor Gaemon looks on. The way all three are denied dignity even in their dying.

Davos Seaworth. LOOK the rest of the nerds in the fandom can call him boring as much as they want but you will never catch MOI calling our only insight into the smallfolk boring, EYE have class solidarity unlike the rest of these posers. I find him equal parts frustrating and engaging; he is so clear eyed on the moral issues that people face yet covers his own eyes when it comes to Stannis' deficiencies. He is determined, always, to keep going, keep fighting. He's a flawed man with a flawed relationship with his wife and sons but he loves them so dearly, so normally. His greatest achievement is that he learned to read. He is so so dear to me.

Mya Stone. MY GIRRRRRRRRL I love how protective of Alayne Stone she is, I love that she knew she had to figure out how to protect herself and provide for herself and learned how to deal with the mules. I love that she had lofty dreams of marrying so far above her station, I love that she's forcing herselfto take the rejection in stride. I think I want a realistic happy ending for her, but a definitely happy ending - I want her to marry for love, I want her to be safe, I want her to feel fulfilled by her life, because she enjoys living, she doesn't take it for granted!

Shae. SHAE FOREVER AND EVER. I prefer her show counterpart - which, I do think they were trying to imply that she was higher class in Essos but ran away, but whatever, ignoring that - but that's largely because we really get to know Shae herself, through her own eyes. The way she grows to love Sansa, is desperate to protect her even against Tyrion! The way she chooses safety and comfort over love and testifies against Tyrion (the way the actress believed - and I do too!!!! - that she would have chosen Sansa, to protect Sansa, had she not been written by Those Dudes). "Your horse eats better than his children" is just an amazing line and she never lets Tyrion or Sansa forget that even with the troubled lives they've led, the smallfolk have a very good reason to resent them! And book Shae!!! She's just a young girl!!!!! She's a teenager picked out of the crowd by Bronn to be Tyrion's mistress, except she doesn't get to have all the safety and power that usually goes with being a mistress and she can't say no. She tries so hard to see the good in Tyrion, to see the intelligence, to get to know him, and she only stops when he gets physically violent with her. All she wants is safety, stability, and it's all ripped away from her before she's even reached twenty years old. She's treated like a pawn, both versions of her, a piece to be moved about by more important people, but she wasn't a piece, she was a girl, a woman, with her own dreams!

blahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh hard to narrow it down i’ll say KYRA (with the keys). She’s such an interesting, tragic character to me. The way she maneuvers to be Theon’s mistress, only for her trust in him to be completely betrayed when he assaults her. The way she very smartly realizes she can’t get home without Theon, and manages to rescue him and get SO CLOSE to freedom. She’s very much a quintessential sort of smallfolk character - she tries to rise above her station and is repaid by sexual abuse, literally hunted down for sport and gruesomely murdered. But at every turn, she tries so hard to assert her own agency!

Special mention because i debated that fifth spot a lot but Gendry, Nettles, and Alayaya are very close to my heart as well. I didn’t count the wildlings otherwise Ygritte and OSHA would be number two and three.

[taetaespeaks]

The Wife / THV part.4

genre : yandere taehyung, failing marriage, mean and cruel protagonists

summery : you five were the nightmares of teachers back in high school, now adults, your cruel and violent temperament doesn’t seem to have change neither does have the obsession taehyung has for you.

warnings : mean protagonists!!!!, smut, s3xual descriptions, strong language, violence, cruelty from the protagonists themselves. here we have an evil y/n. read at your own risk ! this story is hard and violent do not read if you’re sensitive to those topics.

rate : +18 only minors do not interact

<- masterlist ->

Your nights were getting harder and sleepless. It had been a month since the Jeon family scandal broke. Several women had testified against father Jeon and several employees of Kim Company had spoken on the networks and in court about the violence Mr. Jeon had used against them.

You didn't think Taehyung was capable of this and a few days after the euphoria of learning that your plan had worked perfectly, anxiety took its place.

You had always been confident in yourself and your decisions but a new unpleasant feeling met you. Guilt. Jungkook had never been a very good husband, cheating on you, not talking to you for months on end to put his work ahead of you, and then he had never even spoke to you about having children, preferring his secretaries, but when you heard him crying through his locked office door, your heart began to squeeze strangely and this feeling was more than unpleasant. So you avoided him like the plague, thinking you were the least of his worries anyway. He was already thinking of selling the house, and this fact alone was enough to convince your mother to offer you to come back and live with her "until things calm down", in other words, "until you find a new husband". When Jeongguk heard the news, he saw red, understanding as well as you did what this proposal meant, he risked losing his father, his company, his respect, his fortune and his marriage, because of Taehyung.

However, it had also been a month since you had heard from the said Taehyung. What you wanted was to be remarried to him in the first place but without his presence, he made the process more than complicated. You were already imagining yourself as an old maid, a victim of your own actions, finding only a little happiness in the idea that you had allowed abused employees to tell the truth even though you honestly didn't care and you didn't even know if it was true under the circumstances.

Your sleep was filled with nightmares of you, old and unhappy, but one in particular tormented you. You were running faster than you could run, blood on your hands, screaming for help. Taehyung was on your tail.

"Y/n?" Your eyes snapped open almost immediately as you leapt up, looking around and finding Jeongguk sitting to your right at the edge of your bed. If his eyes often took on a mocking look, this time his frowns indicated a state of genuine concern. His almost purple dark circles gave you the shivers as you watched the young man. Panic swept over you as images of your younger selves resurfaced, compounding your state of guilt.

"What are you doing in my room? You should be sleeping."

"I'm fine." He lied, lowering his head slowly. "So hee told me you were having nightmares."

The little bitch had had plenty of time to get you in trouble before being fired for lack of means on your part.

"Don't believe her, she likes to open her mouth too much." With a brisk movement, you came to sit beside him at the edge of the bed. With his hands clasped together, Jeongguk was looking at the floor, his eyes almost closed. You looked away.

You loved Jeongguk but he deserved what he got, you told yourself, even though you weren't sure. You never felt sorry for anything, you never felt sorry for the people you crushed under your cruelty, so why was your heart hurting for him? Was it really wrong? No. You had to do what you had to do to get the life you deserved, you would never again accept anything other than what you wanted.

"Is your mom coming to get you tomorrow?" He asked almost shyly.

"Yes."

A silence.

"I'm sorry, y/n." You closed your eyes, letting him speak. "I know deep down you're not a bitch, well no, I mean, you know, a bad person, well yes, in fact, you're a bad person." You chuckled, and he laughed in response. "But you've always been a good wife. I know when we first got married you did everything for us and all I did was cheat on you and lie to you so I'm sorry. I know you wanted children and a house in the woods to watch them grow up. You wanted dogs and to get your mother's old cat back to give her a peaceful retirement in the country." How could Jeongguk remember that? "I'm sorry I didn't give you the life you wanted but that's just the way I am. My life is my life and I don't adapt it to anyone, I know you're the same and it was only a matter of time before you left." Even with your eyes closed, you felt Jeongguk lift his head to look at you. "Have you found someone else yet?"

You said nothing for a moment, not knowing the answer. "No."

"Well, the next man you get I hope he's as much of an asshole as you are." You laughed at the unison before your laughter choked in your throat at the feeling of Jeongguk's hand on yours. He held your smaller one in his gently for a few more minutes, you didn't know he was capable of softness. You abruptly opened your eyes to observe the strange sight of your linked hands. "And I hope you're happy. I know you're not happy, you've never been, but your dream house in the woods in the countryside could surely change you. I really hope so. Plus, we’re staying friends, right ?” Your heart ached again as in front of you, instead of your husband of six years, seemed to stand the sixteen year old Jeongguk who after fighting to steal a cake from a kid on the street had given it to you because he remembered it was your birthday. "Happy birthday, y/n. Love ya'."

•

You had surprised yourself by having more trouble packing than you had imagined, but blaming it on your lack of familiarity with manual tasks, you had redeemed the idea of not wanting to leave.

Jeongguk helped you put your bags in the trunk of the cab your mother had sent you, complaining bitterly about having to pay for it, and even though you and Jeongguk didn't exchange a word, the atmosphere was tense and heavy. That is until a surprise guest arrived.

A black BMW roared onto the property, the sun painting its perfect body with a golden glow. You and Jeongguk watched the stranger with hostility, one beside the other, as if ready to run away in case of danger, eyes wide open like two rabbits caught in headlights at night. The said car stopped next to the driver's car in front of you and your breath caught as you made out the people inside.

Taehyung, Jimin...

"Jimin?"

The young man leapt out of the car and ran towards you with his arms wide open, almost falling on the white gravel of the entrance.

"Y/N!!!" He slammed into you, causing you to take a few steps back in shock as you wrapped your own arms around him. The feeling of safety instantly eased your anxiety as Jimin rocked you back and forth in a comforting embrace that you enjoyed.

Jeongguk, on the other hand, had not moved, not paying any attention to Jimin's return, his attention was fixed on the driver who was now standing at the left of his car. Taehyung, more handsome than ever, in a very expensive suit, was watching the scene with a tight smile, leaning against the fender of the BMW.

Finally, Jimin's embrace tightened gently one last time. "You're beautiful." He whispered before letting you go turning to Jeongguk who hadn't moved. "Dude, you've doubled in muscle, what are you eating, man ?” Jeongguk’s only response was a murderous look to the young man. “Damn, okay. I complimented you and everything but okay i guess.”

"What the hell are you doing here?" Even though he included Jimin in his sharp question, you knew he was only addressing Taehyung. The young man who was bluntly watching you slowly turned his gaze to Jeongguk and then to his clenched fists as he approached him with an anger that was rare for him.

"If I were you, I wouldn't do that." Jeongguk stopped short, looking with shock at the young man who had once been one of his best friends. "Don't get daddy into more trouble." The blow came without delay, pushing Taehyung backwards and splitting his lip slightly. You and Jimin flinched as he grabbed your arm, pulling you back in a light attempt at protection.

"Shut the fuck up, Kim. What do you want?"

"I'm coming to get y/n." Replied the brunette, wiping the blood running down his chin with a backhand.

"Why?"

"At her mother's house, she wouldn't be safe. Not knowing you know the address."

"What are you talking about, man?" Jeongguk turned to you in disbelief, questioning you with his eyes, but your dazed look spoke volumes.

"Your father has been accused of abusing his female companions. I will not leave y/n at the mercy of men like you two." You predict the second blow before it actually came. This time, Taehyung ended up on the ground, holding his nose and grunting as Jeongguk repeatedly kicked him in the ribs.

"You son of a bitch, I never laid a hand on my wife." One blow harder than the others. "Never! You always wanted her for yourself, didn't you? Is that why you do this?" Another blow.

Jimin grabbed Jeongguk from under his arms, hastily pulling him back from Taehyung, whose side had just made an ominous cracking sound. Hesitantly and almost tributing on your high heels, you approached Taehyung who was trying to stand up with difficulty.

"Are-are you okay?" Taehyung felt his heart quicken at your interest in him, so he smiled, with a dazed look that left you confused. You were soon his, and the pain didn't outweigh his initial joy at having you all to himself.

"y/n. You're not going with him." Jeongguk easily disengaged himself from Jimin, pushing him back. "You stay here." The order made you flinch.

"Don't decide for me, Gukkie."

"What? You want to go with this freak? Do you have any idea what he's really like? He's more dangerous than me." Jeongguk's voice cracked and you felt as if the air had suddenly turned colder as his weakened eyes filled with tears.

"Jeong-"

"You know what, just get out. And you two too. Fuck you." Shoving Jimin aside as he passed, he turned around to go back into the house, his cheeks wet and his fists clenched.

"Jeongguk!"

He didn't look back.

•

Taehyung's house was huge and cold, like a marble palace. There were guards at every door, and as soon as you arrived, one of them had been appointed as your bodyguard. Hoseok. A rather handsome man whose smile and relaxed air made you feel more like you were facing a friend than a man who was ready to save your life at any moment.

When the door of the room that was to become yours closed behind you, a strange feeling came over your body as Jimin accompanied Taehyung to the hospital for his ribs and nose. The room was huge, the cold marble under your feet sending icy shivers down your spine with every step, the thick black curtains hiding the daylight and a picture of you and Jimin posed on an oak dresser served as the first decoration.

Your mother was strangely docile to the idea of you being at Taehyung's house, not even complaining about the cab she had paid for and which had not been used in the end, she had made every effort to hang up as quickly as possible, as if made uncomfortable by the idea of talking to you.

Around 11 p.m., when the two men had returned, Taehyung had not come to see you, leaving you alone with Jimin. Sitting together at the window sill in silence, the room seemed even bigger and colder.

"I'm sorry." Why did everyone want to apologize right now, as if you were an angel fallen from heaven. Jimin knew better than anyone that you didn't deserve any apology. "I didn't know he was violent.”

Your words were lost in your throat as you looked at him dumbfounded. Violent? Sure, Jeongguk wasn't an angel any more than you were, but he never raised his hand to you, and your arguments were quite rare.

"I don't understand, Minnie."

"It's nothing. Just so you know, I really think I should have stayed maybe it would have been better for you this way."

"What are you talking about? You know Jeongguk. He would never do that to me."

"I don't know if I really know him, but I know you."

“Okay, and ?”

“I mean, you know sometimes I do want to kick you in the face with my bare foot but what makes me a good person is the fact that I don’t act on that impulse, right ?”

“Absolutely.”

“Even though I really want to sometimes, you know-“

“Yeah, I got it. I understand, I tried to bury you alive that on time we went at the beach, remember?”

“Okay but you said you didn’t attend to kill me!”

“I lied.”

“Oh my god and you think you know people.”

You remained silent, though smiling softly as a humorless laugh echoed from the doorway. Taehyung stood there, dressed simply in a white teeshirt and gray jogging pants. His dog, Yeontan under his arm. Your heart clenched once again in front of Taehyung but this time it was not unpleasant. A slight white bandage rested on the bridge of his nose and the corner of his lip had turned slightly purple but other than that, he looked perfectly fine.

"We were talking about-"

"Can you take Tan out? I'd like to talk to y/n." Jimin hesitated but complied without looking at you, leaving you once again puzzled. Jimin had always been more compliant than you, but never this compliant. Between him and your mother, you could not help but be confused. You only came back to reality when the door slammed leaving you alone with Taehyung.

"What did you tell them?" You asked in a breath. He answered with a sigh as he sat down on "your bed" in front of you with a slight smirk on his face. He seemed delighted.

"I did what I had to do to get you out of there. That's what you asked me, right?" You didn't answer, you knew and he knew the answer. "Come on. Come on, y/n." He patted the spot to his right on the bed and you hesitantly joined him. As soon as you sat down, he turned to you with a big boxy smile. "I ordered Italian. I know you like it but if you want to eat something else, just tell me." You remained silent ignoring the smile that was slowly disappearing from Taehyung's face. "Why do you always have to make everything harder than it is." He stood up abruptly to stand in front of you making you jump. "Since when do you feel sorry for people?"

"Jeongguk is my friend."

"Not anymore."

"Of course he still is."

Suddenly Taehyung seemed to change his expression, his face clouded over and his eyes shining with a paradoxically dark glow.

He moved closer to you so that he could push you against the bed as he stood over you, his palms on either side of your frightened face. He tilted his head slightly to the side like a curious little puppy before smiling again.

"I love you. Only I love you." You said nothing. The mask of the scornful duchess lying probably at your feet, you looked at your new husband-to-be with apprehension.

Taehyung lowered his head to come and stroke his nose against yours, closing his eyes with satisfaction as you did the same, your breathing suddenly quickening. "I love you." He repeated before crushing his lips against yours, the pain coming from the cut on his lips not rivaling the urge he had to touch you. He knew you loved him too, otherwise why would you be here? You loved him contrary to what Sa ra could say, anyway he left you no choice. His lips slid against yours more gently as one of his hands went under your shirt to touch the delicate skin of your stomach going up to your chest, making you tremble slightly under the contact. Slowly, his lips met your earlobe, then your jaw, then your neck. He took hold of one of your breasts, kneading the flesh and letting a satisfying huff escape from his mouth and lodge itself in your neck.

"I know Jeongguk wasn't fucking you." You shuddered slightly.

Finding your tongue again, you opened your eyes to look at Taehyung sternly, he in turn raised his head with amusement, a loving look on his face.

"Of course he did."

"How come he never got you pregnant then?" Without waiting for an answer, Taehyung lifted your top and pulled it off, you didn't stop him from doing so, pondering the question as he watched your bare chest beneath him hungrily.

"I don't know. He didn't want kids."

"But you did."

"I don't know."

"I do."

"Okay? Nice, I guess? Good for you." He stroked your delicate nipple with the tip of his thumb as he looked up at you with a look of challenge in his eyes.

"Jeongguk wasn't a good husband. He didn't treat you like he should." You nodded in agreement, which seemed to delight him, too distracted by his index finger that had joined over your nipple and pinched it lightly, drawing muffled moans from you. "I wouldn't be ashamed to get you pregnant. I'd fuck you in front of him if you asked me to." You moaned louder as Taehyung's lips closed over your other nipple, your lower belly filling with a heat of desire as he sucked like a hungry man on the fragile little button. Moaning slightly, Taehyung closed his eyes savoring your body like a fine wine, almost driven mad by your existence and smell.

Suddenly the door opened, you tried to hide your nakedness from the newcomer but your assailant didn't let you, blocking your hands, he simply raised his eyes to observe the newcomer, sliding his tongue one last time over your nipple before raising his head to Hoseok. Red with shame, you hid yourself in Taehyung's burning neck, making him quiver with delight and blush slightly in turn. Hoseok, on the other hand, didn't seem the least bit bothered or embarrassed by the sight.

"Kim Namjoon on the phone, sir." With that, he smiled, closed the door and left as quick as he had come.

"Damn it, Tae, I don't want your entire staff to see me naked."

He smiled at the nickname he liked so much. "Don't be shy. They'll eventually see us fucking in the kitchen or wherever. We don't care. We do what we want. Hoseok should only be considering himself blessed by the sight of your boobs." The remark drew a smile from you as Taehyung released you from his hold, crossing your arms over your chest, you sat back to watch him get up.

"Duty calls. You should rest, Jimin is in the next room."

You nodded and he bowed his head slightly in greeting before leaving.

For many minutes you sat in the same place, a thousand questions torturing your mind. Once again, you would not sleep that night, wondering if you made the right choice or if you just got yourself into something else, something where you were not the master of the game you were playing and therefore could lost.

<tag list : @gethatcake @multifandombishthatlovekth>

[dragonagitator]

One of the more interesting time-travel-related wrinkles I've been thinking about a lot for my House MD isekai fanfic is about how both House and the author self-insert OC will be 45 years old, but House is a Boomer and my OC is a time-travelling Xennial / geriatric Millennial. (While most demographers would place me in Gen X, culturally I've always been much closer to Millennials -- being raised by a software engineer meant I've always had a home computer, and have been on the internet since I was 12 -- and I'll be writing my OC like that too.)

So there's going to be a weird dynamic where they'll have all the usual Boomer/Millennial generation gap issues despite being the exact same age. That's going to be a lot of fun to write (my OC will be introducing the phrase "okay boomer" to the team's toolkit for dealing with House's microaggressions), especially when the slow burn starts heating up.

Boomers were the last generation to be raised with the norms "you HAVE to get married" and "it's normal to hate your spouse" and thus they tend have a lot of really awful beliefs about love, romantic relationships, marriage, etc. that younger generations find super weird and sad. You can track this generational attitude change pretty closely in comedy and television. "I hate my wife" jokes used to be a staple for stand-up comedians, but you almost never hear them anymore because modern audiences don't find them relatable or funny. The "spouses who hate each other" trope used to be incredibly common in sitcoms, but now you usually only see it in dramas where everyone is awful anyway. Even cop shows and other murder mysteries are having fewer and fewer "the spouse did it" culprits.

House's cynicism about love and marriage is pretty typical for his generation. For a guy who prides himself on rejecting social programming, he actually absorbed almost all the standard Boomer norms about marriage except the very last one -- he believes, like most Boomers, that marriage is awful, it is normal to hate your spouse, etc., and his only deviation from the norm is deciding "well then I just won't get married."

My OC pointing out that it's possible to simply... marry someone you actually like... might be the first time he really hears and absorbs something like that coming from someone whom he can't just write off as young, naive, inexperienced, etc. I'm happily married IRL and my OC will have been happily married back in her own timeline, too. (One of the reasons the slow burn will be so slow is that she'll be grieving her husband for a while.) So she actually objectively knows more about it than he does and will not hesitate to rub that in his face.

It won't be enough to completely change his views (the Boomer brainwashing is strong), but he'll be slightly less resentful about it when the two of them have to get married to avoid being forced to testify against each other in court.

(House and my OC are going to commit SO MANY CRIMES, you guys. One of the ways I'm working through the "this kinda feels like cheating" discomfort of being happily married IRL but shipping my author self-insert OC with another man is by making my story a bit of a cautionary tale about what I might get up to without my IRL husband's good influence and constant admonishments of "no murder!" My OC is going to commit AT LEAST three murders in her efforts to change the timeline.)

[kookaburra1701]

First Lines!

tagged by @thana-topsy tyty

if it wasn't for these tumblr tag games I would have run out of steam looooong ago but these keep me microdosing on endorphins ha ha

tagging @nientedenada @gilgamish @moriche

Tag the first lines/first paragraph of three of your current works in progress!

I have shared mostly snippets from The Wives of Shor so I'm going to dig in my (massive) WIP-pile for this to share some different things.

Because I Could Not Stop for Death This fic deals with the immediate aftermath of the death of High King Torygg at the hands of Ulfric Stormcloak, through the eyes of Thane Bryling as she struggles to relate to her new jarl, Queen Elisif.

Like Topsy I will share a bit more than one paragraph because the opening is mostly dialogue, and I do what I want. ----------------------------------- "Arkay bless this soul and sanctify its broken vessel!"

Styrr's words were ones that Bryling had heard echo off the walls of the temple courtyard many times before.

"May the light keep it in its warm and soothing embrace!

The pine-pitch smell of the lit torch Styrr held aloft was also familiar.

"May the light cleanse this vessel and let it rest in peace!"

She had often stood shoulder to shoulder with the rest of the Solitude court; sending one of their own off to Sovngarde with honor.

"By the light's holy radiance, let the dead stay dead."

The black banners that shrouded the Imperial sigils of Castle Dour had barely time to develop creases from being stored away.

"May the spirit of Torygg, son of Istlod, join the honored dead in Shor's Hall."

The name of Bryling's liege-lord and shield-brother on Styrr's lips closed Bryling's throat and she struggled to breathe. She could not think of the...thing in the wicker casket on the pyre as Torygg. The casket was too light when she took her position as one of the pallbearers and hefted it upon her shoulder for the final walk she and Torygg would ever take through the streets of Solitude.

A strangled sob interrupted Bryling's thoughts.

Lady Elisif Jarl Elisif, Bryling corrected herself- dressed in the same black gown and veil she had worn for Istlod's funeral not even a year before- was weeping. Wedded, crowned, and widowed within a year. Bryling spared a few moments' pity for Torygg's young bride. It was just as well that Elisif was mourning so loudly - it would not do for one of Torygg's thanes to grieve more openly than his widow, even though she had known him far longer than Elisif. -----------------------------------

Ordior Arma Working title. This fic explores Hadvar of Riverwood's officer training with the Imperial Legion in Cyrodiil. Having never traveled much farther than Whiterun, he finds himself as the only Nord in his officer recruit cohort. This fic is basically my excuse to take out my Roman Empire special interest and roll around in it while also being mean to our special boy Hadvar. ----------------------------------- "Name?"

"Hadvar of Riverwood."

The walls of the Imperial fort of New Urasek rose high above Hadvar's head. For a moment, he was certain the Legionary consulting the list was going to tell him there was some mistake: that his name was not on the roster, that he had been admitted to the Legion by accident, that he had arrived at his assigned training post too late - or too early, that-

"There you are. Give me your orders and writs."

Hadvar handed over the pieces of parchment he had carried for the better part of a year: the orders from the Legion in Cyrodiil telling him where to report for training, and the letter of credit bearing the seals of Whiterun and High King Istlod pledging the funds necessary to see him from recruit to his first assignment.

"Congratulations, Hadvar of Riverwood. I have received word that our request to have one of Whiterun's Legion volunteers receive training as an officer in Cyrodiil has been accepted. My steward found no one who would speak against you, or testify that you have ever been anything but honorable and an asset to Whiterun hold. Therefore, as your jarl, I have selected you to be sent to Cyrodiil to become an officer in the Legion. Do you accept?"

Standing in the Great Hall of Dragonsreach, speaking to the jarl himself, Hadvar had only been able to nod. He had been brimming with pride and excitement, barely able to breathe.

Standing in front of an imposing fortress gate, the spire of the White-Gold tower visible over the battlements, Hadvar felt sick to his stomach. The long miles between the shore of Lake Rumare and Riverwood seemed impossibly vast. ----------------------------------- La★Blue Daedra, or A Takotsubo in the Waters of Oblivion A Sanguine/Hermaeus Mora tentacle sex fic. Yeah. That's it. That's the summary. I've got about 2K of it written, no idea when the consentacle muse will strike again, or if it will. ----------------------------------- With the clear vision provided by hindsight Miraak could see that the trouble began, as it so often did, with a visit from The Spider.

He did not react when a spindly shard of darkness separated from the gloom in a corner of the Footnote where he conducted his research. Delicate clicking, chitinous steps approached him from behind, but not until the soft, cold hand wrapped itself in his hair and forced him to lift his head did he meet Mephala's gaze.

"How diligently you work for my brother," she purred.

"My Lady Webspinner." Miraak carefully dispelled the rune he had been building. "How may I be of service?" Mephala's chelicerae lifted the corners of her mouth in pleasure, and she released his head.

"Your service belongs to my brother, I have no need of you," she said. Her primary eyes were downcast, as if examining the scroll spread out in front of him, but her secondary eyes were watching him intently.

[folliesandfolderols]

Writing prompts day 49, 50

From this prompt list. If you've read this far, I'm not sure you need any explanation, but the short version is I hadn't written any fiction since 2019, I set a goal to write at least 150 words/day in 2024, and this list was my way to restart. Also I abruptly decided on day 2 I would write an entire Tim/Damian story connecting all the prompts, because I am Good at Judging My Limits. /sarcasm Anyway, I finished the rough draft a while ago and am now unlocking the old entries as I edit. Buckle in because this one is long.

Read from the beginning here, or on ao3 here

Day 48 here

***

14. A whispered ���Please” slipping out of kiss bitten lips.

27. Soft whines and whimpers; held back noises because they don’t want anyone else hearing them; a plea for more without the use of words.

94. Whispered praises against the other’s lips, which are met with soft whimpers and moans.

***

Tim didn’t see Damian again for a full week. He threw himself into casework and patrol, going out every night to, as he told himself and everyone else, "make up for all the coverage you took the slack for while I was gone." He could tell no one believed him, but they also didn't question him so he took it as a win. Jason bitched a little about never being able to get the two of them in the same place at the same time for their case, but he didn't really have a leg to stand on given the different ways they could collaborate.

Cass mentioned that Damian had headed for Metropolis to testify in some criminal trial he'd worked on with Jon in his civilian capacity over a year ago. She said it casually to Stephanie, just at the edges of Tim's hearing, and didn't look at him at all. Clearly she suspected something. He resolved never to bring up Damian in her presence.

He was just curling into bed on the seventh morning, staring at the light bleeding in around the curtains and once again remembering Damian telling him he should get shutters installed, when a text from Jason came through. Got a lead.

Tim didn't regret the distraction at all.

tell me

Why do you insist on not using punctuation like a normal human? Okay. There's a connection in Metropolis, believe it or not. They're the second-to-last stop on the northbound route and where the main arteries to the northern Midwest branch out.

so damian's there right now—can he check it out????

He's too busy; has to be in court every day for eight hours a day and Jon has other stuff he's doing. My sources are saying there's a connection with a couple of wealthy Metropolis dudes with ties to organized crime: Rufus Waters and Terrence Galloway. They're the ones taking the hottest girls and putting them to work as escorts etc. so they can get dirt on other rich dudes through them. Tale as old as time.

don't u start singing for me now

Timbo, you don't deserve my dulcet tones. Anyway. These guys love to see and be seen at bougie shit so they can throw their money around. The Metropolis Opera has something called the Aria After Party tonight for "young patrons," which I'm guessing means anyone under the age of sixty. You should go. Bruce keeps a box in Metropolis for when he needs another excuse to go there publicly.

Tim groaned. Opera was a definite acquired taste for him. He pulled up the Metropolis Opera's web site.

ah fuck they're doing the abduction from the seraglio

Is that a hotel? Are they keeping a lot of victims there? How do you even know?

no i mean that's the opera they're performing

Well, shit, Timothy, are you gonna survive a night of caterwauling that's not your fave genre just so dozens of young boys and girls don't get sex trafficked? Because I'd hate to fucking inconvenience you.

no need to get bitchy i'm going it's just i saw it awhile ago and it's kind of racist and not mozart's best work. so will some of the trafficking victims be there with waters and galloway or what?

Yeah, they usually have at least one on each of their arms so they can advertise. Just go with the flow and see what you can figure out. IDK, get wild and crazy and see if you can get one of the girls to leave with you.

Tim rolled his eyes. Yeah, right, like that would be hard. i am extremely charming and all the ladies love me so no worries i've got this

Sure, sure, I'm sure even someone who's being exploited is gonna be a sucker for those baby blues.

why jason i didn't know u noticed do u wanna tell me something

Absolutely, I want to tell you to shut the fuck up and do some detecting tonight. I'll drive down too in case you need backup but I'm gonna stay at that one safehouse Bruce has near Mortimer Bridge. Comms'll be open.

got it.

Tim put his phone on do not disturb and rolled over to his stomach, determinedly squeezing his eyes shut. He was going to get some sleep before he drove across the bay tonight, dammit. Good thing he'd had his best suit pressed recently.

He zoomed down to Metropolis after he took a detour by the Manor to borrow Bruce's Chiron. After all, what was the point of being the sort-of son of one of the richest people in the world if you couldn't drive faster than everyone else even without a mask on? Even when the car was idling at a red light, he could see pedestrians turning to look behind them at the sound of its engine. He grinned at the sight—he'd never deny that he shared the Bat penchant for making an entrance.

The opera itself went as expected. He saw some of Bruce's friends who made the same rounds of charity events and backstage events, and even some of his former classmates from Brentwood. The latter made a point to come to the box during intermission and make idle queries about where he was living, what he was doing, and how his Wayne Enterprises dealings were going at the moment. He kept his best vapid smile firmly in place and kept giving the answers that would get him an invitation to the party Jason had mentioned.

Finally, just as the lights dipped in warning, Jeffrey Chung said, "Hey, dude, there's this after party thing we're going to when the show's over. It's to support the opera and raise money for new carpets or whatever. Wanna come?"

Tim shrugged, though internally he was pumping his fist in victory. "Sure, I don't have to be back in Gotham tonight."

Once the lights were down and the performance had resumed, Tim raised his opera glass and tapped on the nightvision option so he could see across the hall. Galloway had a box opposite Bruce's, but it had been empty at the start of the show. Now, though, both Galloway and Waters sat close together, whispering to each other while the four stunning women with them stared at the stage with various levels of boredom. "You seeing what I'm seeing?" he subvocalized.

Jason replied on the comm. "Yep. Good deal. Hopefully you can get an invitation to one of their homes at the after party and plant some bugs."

"Even if I can't, I can get some into the women's purses, plus Waters' and Galloway's suits." He paused, then added judiciously, "It was a good idea to come here." A complimented Jason was a happy Jason. He was a former Robin, after all.

A brief pause in which he knew Jason was trying to hide his discomfiture. "Yeah, well, only a moron wouldn't have thought of it, so."

Tim suppressed a smile.

The after party was exactly what he'd expected: sponsored by a local entertainment and society magazine at a dark cramped restaurant that was trying to become fashionable, decent drinks, and pointlessly complicated hors d'oeuvres in which figs, liver, and fish were over-represented. Plus conversation in which bemoaning the state of taxation and by-the-way bragging about recent travel played a heavy role. Tim group-hopped with Jeffrey for a few minutes before wandering off on his own to make a circuitous route toward Waters, whose two companions were looking increasingly tired behind their charming smiles.

He approached them from behind, reaching just past their little cluster of people to grab a fresh glass of sparkling wine from one of the side tables. While he was back there, he dropped a combination bug/tracker into the clutch hanging from one of the escorts' arms. By the time he'd straightened, Waters had turned to see who was there.

Up close, he looked like the douchebag he was: floppy nose-length hair parted in the middle into two carefully styled waves, stupidly expensive tie gone askew despite the gold tie clip studded with huge diamonds, the type of puffiness around the jaw that bespoke self-indulgence, ill-fitting suit that he hadn't bothered to get tailored correctly. Kind of a faux pas, son, Tim heard Brucie say with that informal intonation that was an ultra-rich person's way of taking others down a peg or two. Most of the time Tim hated that the voice lived in his own brain, but in this case he felt like the target deserved it.

Guys like this always expected to be known, so Tim fixed a delighted expression on his face and reached to shake hands. "Well, hello there, Rufus Waters! We've got quite a few friends in common but I don't think we've ever officially met. Tim Drake."

Waters gave him a supercilious look down his nose before the name clicked and he returned Tim's grip. "Oh, right, you're Bruce Wayne's, uh . . ." He floundered a bit.

Tim jumped in before he could feel awkward about it. "Right, yeah, he's like a second father to me, taught me most of what I know today, set me up at WE. And who are these lovely ladies?" He turned with his most charming smile to the escorts, who both straightened and returned the expression with a little more enthusiasm than they'd shown previously.

"This is Luz," Waters indicated the Latina on the right, "And Katarina." The white blonde gave him a tiny wave. She stood at least three inches taller than him in her heels.

"You're a lucky man to have two dates when some of us have zero," Tim laughed, clapping him on the shoulder and planting another device in his collar. "Have some pity, give a lonely person a few tips."

"You don't need game to get these girls," Waters said, sliding his hands down to cup each of their asses and pulling them closer. "Just be rich and they'll throw themselves at you. Right, ladies?"

They both laughed and patted him on the chest. "Of course," Luz agreed.

Her eyes were dead despite the sparkling expression in her voice. Tim wanted to throw up, but instead he made a wide enough gesture to drop another tracker into the open mouth of her purse. "Well, then, clearly I'm all set! Luz, Katarina, tell your friends you know someone with lots of money and time who's ready to spend both on them."

"Thought I heard you were more into boys," Waters said, with just a thread of contempt sewn in the sentence.

Tim gave him a smirk and a tiny up-and-down just to watch him squirm. "Hey, I'm an equal-opportunity type of guy."

Katarina's smile turned a bit more genuine at that, and she caressed him from his shoulder to his wrist, where her touch lingered. "I appreciate a man who doesn't set artificial limits for himself." She had a slight Russian accent, but the British inflection was stronger.

Tim couldn't stop himself from blushing a tiny bit. "Oh yeah? And what kind of limits do you set for yourself?"

She raised his hand to chest level and held it in both of her own. He could feel her breath on his knuckles. "Not many, honestly."

Someone bumped into Tim from behind, sending his drink flying onto all three of the others. The women shrieked. He spun, but the culprit had been swallowed back into the crowd and probably didn't even know what they'd done. He turned back to Waters, who was grimacing at the wine splashed across his jacket.

Tim grabbed a cloth napkin from a nearby table and dabbed at it fruitlessly. "Oh fuck, I'm so sorry."

Waters waved him off with better humor than he would've expected. "Not your fault. I've got fifty more suits just like this or better. I should probably get back home, though. Some of us were already headed there anyway for a party that isn't as boring as this one. Wanna join us?"

"Do it," Jason said, and Tim agreed.

Waters' house was tacky nouveau riche even for a tacky nouveau riche neighborhood, full of peacock accents, stark white walls broken up with haphazard black and white photographs of tigers, and neon mood lighting in alcoves that made no sense. From what Tim could tell, all the men present were either potential clients for the sex traffickers or were actually part of the profiteers. A few women wore typical black evening dresses and held conversations with the men with business-like expressions, but most of them were stunningly beautiful, in low-cut gowns, and seemed to serve the function of seductive eye candy. Bass boomed from speakers set into the walls, drowning out any conversation more than a foot away, which he had to think was purposeful.

Tim took the first opportunity to make a circuit of all the lower-level rooms and get video of the layout, then withdrew to one of the recessed areas to get a better look at faces.

"Galloway's there," Jason told him. "Just showed up. He and Waters and that woman who looks like a matron from a Romanian orphanage were all talking by the Jacuzzi, but it looks like they're moving inside, probably headed for his study via the kitchen stairs. Get up there before them and you might be able to plant some bugs in good places in time for us to hear their plans. One camera in the hall at the top of the stairs nearest you, one in the study on the bookshelf closest to the window."

Tim started up the stairs, body bent over the railing like he was calling down to someone on the ground floor to hide his face.

"Tim?" Katarina rounded the banister just as he got to the halfway point.

He used it as an excuse to keep his back to the camera as he continued ascending. "Just headed to the bathroom!" he called. "Be right back down."

She gave him a long look, but nodded without saying anything and walked away.

Tim did a backflip as he reached the landing beneath the camera’s range of sight and hit the lens askew with his heel before ricocheting off the wall and down the hallway. Hopefully the cameras were just precautionary measures and no one was watching the video feed at the moment.

"Third door on the left," Jason's voice directed him.

Tim picked the lock in a matter of seconds—what kind of idiot didn't use biometrics for sensitive stuff? Well, he supposed he should be grateful—and entered the study in a crouch, locking the door again behind him. Taking care of the remaining camera proved to be easy work, and then planting his own surveillance devices was no trouble at all.

"Shit, they were faster than I thought they'd be. Go out the window."

Tim dashed to the window facing a side yard fenced in with wrought iron and almost tugged on the sash lock before he noticed it had been painted shut.

"Tim, I'm not joking, they're almost there."

Shadows loomed in the light under the door as Waters' voice reached his ears. "—talked to the people we've got in Tulsa—"

A hot hand grabbed his upper arm and propelled him into a closet he hadn't noticed before, closing the door behind them silently just as the study door swung open with a creak. Tim had just enough time to wonder why the  hell he hadn't fought back before the faintest ghost of Oud-Al-Janaid gave him his answer. His vision adjusted to see Damian's eyes glaring down at him, green in the lamp light now slivered under the bottom of the door.

"Tim, what the fuck is happening? Gimme a report!" Jason sounded pissed, which meant he was actually concerned.

"Everything okay," Tim breathed out, and took the comm from his ear to drop into a pocket.

"Are you checking up on me?" Damian demanded in a whisper so quiet Tim more felt than heard it. The fury came through loud and clear, though. Tim shook his head. 

Cass had started learning ASL several years ago because her own rudimentary signs were frustrating her when she couldn't speak fluently, so the rest of them had learned as well, but they weren't conversational, more at toddler level plus a lot of finger spelling. Toddlers could communicate, though. 

He signed, With Jason. Don't know you here.

Damian replied, good I come. They catch you.

Tim shrugged. Maybe.

He strained his ears, but the closet door was made of quality wood and he couldn't hear the words being spoken outside, just tone. Whatever conversation the three were having sounded like routine business. It didn't matter since the hidden cameras would pick up everything and have it ready for review.

For the first time, he became aware of how Damian was dressed. He wore a long cut tuxedo in dark green, with gold thread embroidered in intricate vines down its front and on the sleeves. Heat climbed up Tim's cheeks at the sight. He had to work to take his next breath evenly. Opera?

Damian nodded. Not box. Already go here after other party. When see you, know you come up to this room, so I wait here.

He'd probably braced himself in a corner of the ceiling just to have the drop on Tim. He narrowed his eyes, struck by sudden suspicion. Drink?

It was Damian's turn to shrug. You mind?

Tim shook his head, clamping his thumb and first two fingers together for emphasis. No. Waters could drown in booze for all he cared, let alone give up a suit jacket to it. It didn't speak well of his powers of observation that he'd missed Damian's presence, though. It wasn't as if he didn't draw the eye.

The study door opened and closed again. They both straightened to attention. Waters and the woman's voices kept talking, but Galloway's was silent, so he must have been the one to leave.

Tim turned his eyes back to Damian and had to fight not to clear his suddenly dry throat. Fuck. Why was he so attractive? It wasn't fair.

Damian gave a tiny sigh as their gazes met. It sounded like regret. Tim didn't know how to fix it, though, so he stood on tiptoes and kissed first one cheek, then the other, then his chin. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry.

Damian didn't move for a long moment, and kept looking at him with an unreadable expression. Probably he'd just made the situation worse.

But then Damian tilted up his chin with one finger and kissed his forehead, his eyes, his temples. Tim shivered at each delicate brush of lips. His heart swelled in his chest with emotion too significant to define.

And Damian kept kissing him. The curve of his ear, the thin scar on his neck left by Jason a lifetime ago. Tim braced himself with both hands on Damian's hips and let his eyes fall shut. Damian shuffled toward him, closing the few inches between them, arms wrapping around his back and pulling him close to kiss the top of his head. Tim strained his head up to kiss Damian's pulse just below his jaw. Damian let out a shuddering breath at the contact and turned his face so their lips met. Tim encircled his neck with both arms and pulled him down to kiss him harder.

This was so stupid. He was so stupid.

The lump in his throat made it hard to breathe. His heart kept thudding an uneven tattoo, made clumsy with the mingled joy and pain inherent in Damian's touch. He pulled his mouth away, meaning to say something, anything that would help instead of hurt. Instead, Damian took advantage of the pause to hoist him against the wall by his thighs. Tim wrapped his legs around his waist and clung.

Unlike the last time he'd pinned Tim this way, Damian's body was strung tight with tension. He angled his hips into Tim's. Tim bit his lip against the frenzied sound that wanted to break free as their erections pressed together. Damian shoved one big hand into his hair and tilted his head back to kiss him with ardent force. Tim opened up and let him in deeper.

I'm sorry, he tried to say through his touch, through the tiny whimpers he couldn't entirely strangle, through the kisses he nipped against Damian's mouth. I'm so, so sorry. I do want you. I really do.

He wasn't sure if Damian understood what he was telling him. He wasn't sure he wanted him to.

Damian fumbled between Tim's legs, getting his suit pants open, and pulled out his cock. Tim whined feather-soft against his mouth at the relief of freedom from the confines of clothing. He yanked the sole fastened button of the tuxedo jacket free and parted the sides to reach Damian's trousers, unfastening them as well until his searching fingers found their goal.

Damian bucked into Tim's grip as Tim fitted them together in his hand. "Please," slipped out of his lips in a quavered whisper, and he gripped their lengths in one of his hands as well, moving in tandem with Tim's strokes. It was a little rough at first for Tim without lube, but Damian was leaking precome all over both of them, enough to smooth the way after a second.

They rocked against each other for long moments. Tim lost track of how much time had passed, or whether he was being quiet enough. The necessity of making Damian feel better buried every other concern. He looked up at the handsome face currently slack with arousal, begging silently for absolution. The care in Damian’s touch felt like a plea of its own.

His lips parted as he panted for air, and Damian slid his thumb between them. Tim sucked on it without thinking, and that was all it took to get Damian to stiffen from head to toe and spurt hot over his cock and fingers. His chest heaved, though his breathing stayed soundless.

Tim relaxed against the wall, letting Damian's thumb slip from his mouth, nearly as satisfied from feeling Damian's orgasm as he would've been from coming himself.

Damian clearly didn't share the sentiment. He buried his face in the crook of Tim's shoulder and inhaled against his skin, then renewed the motion of his hand around Tim's erection. Tim squirmed, almost overstimulated in the bad way, but Damian directed his legs down so he was standing again and that helped, to be able to push against something with his feet.

"There you are," Damian murmured against his mouth, practically soundless. "You're so lovely when you're like this." Tim moaned in the back of his throat at the praise and throbbed in Damian's grip. "Stunning. You'll come for me now, won't you? Let me feel it."

Helpless, Tim slapped one hand over his mouth and came so hard it almost hurt.

When his eyes and ears started working again, Damian had turned away and was listening intently at the door. His clothes were back in place. How had he managed to put himself together while Tim was still a mess? Grimacing, Tim pulled his handkerchief out and wiped himself off, then set his own pants back to rights.

With a satisfied nod, Damian said, "They're gone. We can leave." He pushed the closet door open.

Tim fought the urge to force a conversation at this exact moment and followed him down the stairs, fitting his comm back into his ear as he went. There were still plenty of guests milling around. Jeffrey caught sight of him in the foyer, and by the time Tim extricated himself from the goodbyes he had to say, Damian was long gone into the night.

“Was I hallucinating, or did I see the baby bat leave just now?” Jason asked.

Tim couldn’t keep his shoulders from slumping in defeat. “No. I saw him too. We didn't really talk, though.”

day fifty-one here

(p.s. the Brucie line in here is an affectionate shout-out to one of my favorite Superbat fics, "Sometimes, Always, Never," by liodain.)

[smokeybrandcompositions]

We Can't Be Friends

No one really talks about this but I'm gonna. Y'all know Epstein was caught doing the sh*t he was doing back on the Nineties right? Maybe the Aughts. The timeline is wildly fuddled with dude because he never really paid for any of the atrocities he committed, mostly because of the people he committed them with. I can't remember if he did time for it but the young woman in question was substantially underage. She testified that Epstein's rape was her first time ever having sex, so there's that. She recalls that the other guy, this was a tag-team scenario, was so upset that Epstein stole her virginity, they got into a physical tussle. After that altercation, this other man raped her, too. Brutally. Like, he beat and slapped her during, calling her all out her name for not being pure. After watching her get forcibly deflowered. Ma testified to this in court. Epstein was convicted. I think he did a handful of months or was put on probation or some sh*t.

That other man was Donald Trump.

I've known about this for years, long before he became president. Years before he was on The Apprentice. I've known about this incident even before I understood just how inept he was as a business man. The only things i've known about Trump longer than him being a rapist pedophile, is the fact he's an abhorrent racist. In order of realization, racist, rapist, full-on business idiot. I say all of that because there are people I know who still support dude. Knowing that he literally bankrupted a casino. Knowing that his wealth was generated by bankruptcy loopholes and tax dodging for decades. Knowing that he is a rapist pedophile because I just told you that not a paragraph ago. Never mind he is an adjudicated rapist, having lost a slander civil suit to one of his victims for defaming her about speaking aloud of her assault,twice. They will STILL support someone like that because "the economy". At that point, you have to be one of the most morally bankrupt and selfish motherf*ckers on the planet, right? It's okay to put a proven monster in the big chair, a fascist one at that, because your money was better when he was in charge? Word? We can't disagree on this and still be friends. I can't accept the fact you'd be fine endangering literally SO many people, just because your stonks were good way back when, especially when there is fresh data that says your stonks are better now than they ever were under Trump. There is legitimate, analyzable data, which states we are much better off now, than we were under Drumpf. If that's the case, then it's not about the economy, or the border, or whatever else. It's about you and your level of comfort being a sh*t person.

[smokeybrand]

We Can't Be Friends

No one really talks about this but I'm gonna. Y'all know Epstein was caught doing the sh*t he was doing back on the Nineties right? Maybe the Aughts. The timeline is wildly fuddled with dude because he never really paid for any of the atrocities he committed, mostly because of the people he committed them with. I can't remember if he did time for it but the young woman in question was substantially underage. She testified that Epstein's rape was her first time ever having sex, so there's that. She recalls that the other guy, this was a tag-team scenario, was so upset that Epstein stole her virginity, they got into a physical tussle. After that altercation, this other man raped her, too. Brutally. Like, he beat and slapped her during, calling her all out her name for not being pure. After watching her get forcibly deflowered. Ma testified to this in court. Epstein was convicted. I think he did a handful of months or was put on probation or some sh*t.

That other man was Donald Trump.

I've known about this for years, long before he became president. Years before he was on The Apprentice. I've known about this incident even before I understood just how inept he was as a business man. The only things i've known about Trump longer than him being a rapist pedophile, is the fact he's an abhorrent racist. In order of realization, racist, rapist, full-on business idiot. I say all of that because there are people I know who still support dude. Knowing that he literally bankrupted a casino. Knowing that his wealth was generated by bankruptcy loopholes and tax dodging for decades. Knowing that he is a rapist pedophile because I just told you that not a paragraph ago. Never mind he is an adjudicated rapist, having lost a slander civil suit to one of his victims for defaming her about speaking aloud of her assault,twice. They will STILL support someone like that because "the economy". At that point, you have to be one of the most morally bankrupt and selfish motherf*ckers on the planet, right? It's okay to put a proven monster in the big chair, a fascist one at that, because your money was better when he was in charge? Word? We can't disagree on this and still be friends. I can't accept the fact you'd be fine endangering literally SO many people, just because your stonks were good way back when, especially when there is fresh data that says your stonks are better now than they ever were under Trump. There is legitimate, analyzable data, which states we are much better off now, than we were under Drumpf. If that's the case, then it's not about the economy, or the border, or whatever else. It's about you and your level of comfort being a sh*t person.

[if-you-fan-a-fire]

"FIRST IN 70 YEARS IS INEBRIATE'S PLEA," Toronto Star. July 7, 1934. Page 3. --- Gets Remand on Promise Not To Be Back for Another 70 ---- Short shift was given two of the thirteen "drunks" in early morning court to-day, when it it was learned they were on their "umpteenth" trip through the mill. The two, James Carr and Patrick Beattie, were fined the maximum - $50 or one month. With the exception of Lawrence Keogh, who, at the crown's request. was asked to stay around until Monday, the others were freed on remanded sentences.

"Give me a chance your honor. I haven't been here for 70 years," pleaded John Cumming, one of the thirteen.

"Seventy years?" asked the cadi. "Yes, and I won't be here for an- other 70 years."

"All right, I'll take your word for it."

"I asked him to leave like a lady. but he answered like a bully, so I called a cop," protested a young woman, explaining why she had laid a charge of trespass against Archie Fordie.

Fordie and his boy friends, she told the court, used the alley beside her house for an open air club house. And when they started in to serve liquid refreshments, she said it was too much.

"That the trouble," added Inspector Guthrie. "They get a wine jug and go up there and get drunk."

Fordie was placed on a year's probation and told to seek his fun elsewhere.

The usual crop of youthful ride stealers lifted their tousled heads above the rail, and accepted $5 or ten-day penalties for riding gratis on the C.P.R.

The trio said they had come in from Hamilton.

Held on $1,000 Bail Held on a charge of breaking and entering a cigar store on Lake Shore Blvd., Elmer O'Donnell was held over to July 11, on $1.000 bail.

Other remands were granted to Victor Taylor and James Montgomery on charges of stealing a truck. Bail was allowed at $1,000 each.

Held on several charges of theft and receiving, Kenneth Stroud and Robert Prince were remanded to July 13 and released on $2,000 bail.

George Prince, charged with receiving in connection with the same crimes, was remanded in custody.

Defence counsel T. B. Horkins strongly protested against the crown's recommendation that George Prince be held, but Crown Attorney W. O. Gibson, K.C., remarked the police had already been put to the expense of bringing him back from Brockville.

"Besides this is not an ordinary case of auto theft," he said. "The car in question was stolen in Toronto. License plates for another car were taken out in Milton, and the driver's permit Smith's Falls."

Charged with Intoxication. Karrall Venn was found guilty and fined $50 or one month. Immediately after Magistrate Coatsworth had passed sentence, Venn's wife fell heavily to the floor in a faint. She was car- ried from the courtroom by two policemen.

Venn was arrested after he had been found attempting to "fix" a car, after the owner had been arrested for being drunk. Venn himself was so drunk, police officers testified, he "didn't know what he was doing." They didn't have the key, and they were trying to make it go, the court was told.

On $150 cash bail, Ronald Hirst was remanded to July 10. Hirst, facing a charge of keeping a betting house, was arrested yesterday, after leading Morality Officer Joseph Sunderland and Plainclothesmen Holden and Adie a merry chase through his house. Police allege they found Hirst conducting a $150 a day racing business.

Would Take Whole Blame "Last night I saw the two accused men, James Clark and David Cunningham, go up a lane on Lombardi St. with a bottle," said P.C. Phillips in liquor and traffic court to-day.

Clark and Cunningham came up on a charge of having as the result of their apprehension by P.C. Phillips last night.

"I searched the men and found a bunch of skeleton keys and a small hack-saw in Clark's pocket," the officer added.

Clark avowed that he had the keys for 25 years. "They are the keys of to trunks," he said. "I'll have break the locks if you keep them."

Clark pleaded guilty through his counsel, T. O'Connor. "I'm going to take the whole blame," he declared.

"No, you're not. I'll just give you $25 of it," Magistrate Jones said.

Cunningham, who guilty, was deprived of $10.

[the-firebird69]

Trump Stays Calm in Court. His Emails Tell a Different Story. - The New York Times

This guy is in court and he gets out and he's talking about it like people were jumping on him and throw him around and it's b******* people can see the trial and people have copies and they shouldn't but they do and he's lying about the whole thing and the judges looking at it now and he's saying this this actually violates all sorts of Court laws and rules we need you to shut your mouth and you're lying and the question say and it's reporters who are saying that he's lying and he might be held in contempt again and the judge warned him today do not shoot a bunch of emails around about court is not legal and you're making up what was going on recreating it changing it and you did but he's right about one thing they are taking them down and he's saying this foolish stuff when they're actually taking him down so Stormy Daniels testified and she did not imply she was paid off he said I still have the money and he's trying to pay me not to talk about it and here I am talking about it and it's not for the work I did it's way too much it's over the amount and he is a liar and he told me on this day out loud is for you not to talk about it and she mentioned five days and she has a recording and they have not admitted as evidence yet she made 10 copies and gave them to people and they did not play it yet but they put it in places that are secure and if there's something that happens to them they don't come back and they don't remember the tape gets released and Trump is going to be fried and they're a witnesses they've heard him saying she's paid for silence and they're going to go to court on this three of them and she already said it okay that's all and they're getting corroborating evidence and they're actually covering all the bases right now Michael calling me the payments it was a secret of thing what he said to Michael Cohen was this is to draw that situation to a close we don't want her mouthing off and that's just different words if you translate it and the prosecutor thought about it and he said I can translate with this means but then they might say that I'm putting words in his mouth and then he says he said it like an aside way and usually we just shout this is what he was saying she went through the whole thing and said I should say what does it mean when someone says that and just wait and wait but it's it says I don't want to hear her talking about the subject and it was referenced and Jesus slightly and it means that it's using slang and if they want to be thorough they can go through his slang because it is individual to gangs and groups and secret clubs so the prosecutor is having a field day and he's going through his language and what it means and how people reaction how they respond and what they say and it's not only slang when it's slightly cold but if you say it's like slang from Jersey or whatever and you call out a locality too and it adds to the ferocity of his statement and he was thinking about that but now he says that's awesome and he says it's going to be a trap door for anyone every single one of his people and he says well that's amazing so now people can't get over it all he's doing is is speaking in slang it's it's like not even that it's like American slight is what it's called it's it's really American slightest a form of slang and he looked it up and he said you know what this is American flight and there is a way to say that so he's going to try that first and he he said this the guy is saying stuff out loud and it's in American and he's saying we're American and other people are not he's looking at you and you say you're too young and says I'm too young to what no you're a homicidal f****** queer you better fight your friends and the actual enemy I've had enough of it but I needed it so you wouldn't fight us so he looks around and says I got to get the hell out of here and then he says that he says this the kids right I don't freaking moron so we're going to fight him in blown away and we can't stand him.

The poor lizard probably got dust with poison if not he's going to get it and he's going to be out and he'll get tossed out hopefully or he'll die and he's been shrunken down too much he doesn't know anything

#in other news they're seeking out this mask and they can't find it they're asking him and he says I know that it's up there eventually and then this it could be buried and he says I think it looks like these aliens and they haven't gone there yet and they say what would they have and then he says I don't know down below Damascus growing and somehow The mask comes out and goes on one of them so how the hell is that going to happen and they start getting curious and said maybe these people are under there as well and he says I don't think so and it became obvious that there's something weird here he says they might be but I'm pretty sure they're on Titan and people are saying they are and it's Billy z and he did mention something about putting things in the way and now they're going to get mad and the max will get mad too cuz he's doing it all over the place and he's doing it with threats with these ships and it's the bugs and the frogs and the idiot keeps on bothering our kid and a kid keeps on telling us

Now Tommy f is issuing threats on our son and to him too his senses I'm going to break your neck by punching your neck and you won't think I can cuz you're a f****** idiot you got to knock you over when you're in a retard form I'm going to kick your leg in when you're an old person form and someone else is going to do it cuz I'm going to stay there me that's one of these two complete idiots that you keep pushing and pushing and pushing

Now we're going to help it happen and we have other business to attend to like there's two morons they're going to get out of here again as a matter of fact they're going to burning Man so we're going to post something

Thor Freya

Olympus

[nothing0fnothing]

This isn't really the same but one time I intentionally dressed like a child and my mum STILL overtly sexualised my outfit and made me cry.

When I was 20 I'd gone through a lot. I'd list it all but it's all pretty depressing but basically it was a bunch of crimes of a sexual nature that had been done against me. My mum didn't know about all of it, but she knew about the crime and that I'd been testifying in court about it so obviously a normal person's inherently gonna choose to be empathetic and sensitive of their child's feelings in a time like that. right?

So, it's all over and I'm starting to find my new normal, but it's early days and I'm bambi walking through life. I was invited to a party and I wanted to go and do something normal for a night. It was in the middle of the summer, and I put together a super cute 60s inspired baby blue print romper with a blue ribbon in my hair, frilly white socks and white Mary Jane's. I just wanted to look nice without looking sexually appealing at all. The outfit was giving cute/young/playful and I really just needed to invite in some of that energy after the rough few months I'd just had.

My mum looked at my outfit and told me "you're asking to get raped in that."

Immediate tears. Locked in the bathroom crying while she banged on the door demanding I come out. I'm having an absolute spiral because to me I'm dressed like a 6 year old but my mum has just said I'm dressed like a rape victim so now I'm having random PTSD flashbacks of being 6 years old and experiencing CSA. She's shouting through the door that she's joking that I don't know how to take a joke and I'm doing this specifically to make her feel bad. And the whole time this is happening the guy whose meant to be walking me to this thing is outside.

So basically I come out of the bathroom and she tells me she didn't mean it I just had a lot of skin on show (I didn't. They were knee shorts and a sweetheart neckline.) So I put on tights and a cardigan to cover up and just felt low key shitty the entire party before I left early because I felt too self conscious to be there.

Did anybody else’s emotionally abusive mom tell them “you’re too young to wear X” until you turned 18, and then immediately changed it to “you’re too old to wear X” and constantly try to dress you like an old church lady? With a heavy sprinkling of “you’re too fat to wear X” and “your boobs are too big for you to wear X” thrown in? And now you’re close to 40 and teaching yourself to wear whatever the fuck you want even though you’re definitely fatter and older than you were then?

[justiceamberheard]

Do you have any link where is disproven that Amber didn't do that on the bed? I'm tired of seeing poop memes but D**p stans swear it was "tested and proven" so I want proof so they shut up pretty please? I don't follow the trial it's too triggering for me :(

The UK trial found that one of their dogs "had an incomplete mastery of its bowels" due to consuming Johnny's marijuana at a young age. Multiple witnesses testified that they had seen dog poo in their apartment and cleaned it up multiple times. Johnny claimed he was going to have it tested to prove it was human but never did, but his fans of course still claim he did.

Depp claims this incident was what made him choose to divorce Amber, despite the fact she was the one who initiated divorce proceedings and he was trying to force her to get back with him in Summer 2016.

Get this though -- just before the incident, Depp texted his assistant Stephen Deuters asking him to defecate in the master bedroom, saying "it'll be funny". Looking at his communications over the years he seemed obsessed with scattological humour to the point it might have even been a fetish. But of course, he focuses on the incident to further humiliate the woman brave enough to leave him.

[deadstrangeblog]

Hi-Fi Murders

On April 22nd 1974, 18-year-old Sherry Ansley and 20-year-old Stanley Walker were working the late shift at The Hi-Fi Shop in Ogden, Utah, when the unthinkable happened. Just before closing time, a group of masked men entered the small store on 2323 Washington Boulevard and took it's employees hostage. The gang consisted of William Andrews, Keith Roberts, and Pierre Dale Selby. They were all members of the United States Air Force, but they all had issues that made them collectively decide that a life of violent crime was they way to go. Pierre, an immigrant from Trinidad and Tobago, was a prime suspect in the bloody murder of a fellow soldier just a year before. William Andrews was a drug user in the darkest depths of addiction. Keith Roberts, the youngest of the trio, was a troubled 19-year-old, reportedly with no direction in life.

After locking the doors, Pierre and William forced their hostages downstairs to the basement whilst Keith waited outside, ready to do his job as the getaway driver. With the staff out the way, they began ransacking the store.

Everything was going according to plan until 16-year-old Cortney Naisbitt arrived at the store. He wanted to thank the employees for their kindness, as they'd let him use the small parking lot whilst he visited the store next door. When he approached the store however, his gratitude was met with two angry robbers who took him hostage too. Pierre and William rushed, hoping there would be no more distractions. Shortly afterwards, Orren Walker, Stanley Walker's 43-year-old father, became worried about his son and went to the store to check on him. He was met by Carol Naisbitt, the young boy's mother, who shared his feelings of worry. Both were forced into the store at gunpoint and taken hostage, joining their terrified children.

The presence of more witnesses made Pierre and William furious, and they inflicted terrible violence. Violence included kicking a pen into the ear of Orren Walker, and rápíng eighteen-year-old Sherry who was later shot in the head. The hostages were also forced to drink drain cleaner, causing burns to their mouths and throats. Later, Pierre would state that he stole the idea from the film Magnum Force, where a woman is killed by being made to drink Drano. Pierre and William tried to duct-tape the hostages' mouths shut to silence their screams, but the oozing blisters made by the drain cleaner prevented the adhesive from sticking. Orren Walker was the last to be given the Drano, but he managed to avoid swallowing it by dribbling it out of his mouth and faking the reactions he had seen the other hostages (including his son) make.

After a while, Pierre became angry that the crime wasn't going according to plan. He thought that the deaths were taking too long, so he put an end to the night of torture by shooting his hostages. He shot mother and son Carol and Cortney Naisbitt execution style. Carol was killed instantly but Cortney survived. Laying next to his mother's dead body, he stayed silent.

20-year-old Stanley Walker was shot dead whilst his dad watched. Orren Walker was then shot, but the bullet missed and grazed the back of his head. Not satisfied by the violence, Pierre tried to strangle him with a wire. When this failed, he got a ballpoint pen, shoved it inside the man's ear, and gave it a swift kick. The pen came through his throat and caused excruciating pain. Despite his ordeal, Orren survived and was able to testify in court, helping to put the gang on death row.

After being repeatedly abused, Sherry Ansley was thrown to the ground and shot in the back of the head. Orren would later reveal Sherry's heart-breaking last words in his testimony- "I'm too young to die."

After inflicting such heinous violence on their victims, William and Pierre finished robbing the store and went back to the van. Keith, apparently only acting as a getaway driver, had no idea that the night of robbery would turn into a gruesome triple murder. That night, only two survivors lived to tell the tale, but they had come away with terrifying memories. When the scene was discovered three hours later, young Cortney was not expected to live. He defied all odds, but the bullet had caused extensive damage to his brain and he lived the remainder of his life on Social Security, unable to hold down a job due to his memory problems. Orren Walker survived with extensive burns to his mouth and chin, as well as the damage to his ear caused by the pen. Unlike Cortney, the only serious injuries he took away from that night would by psychological ones.

The gang were caught when an anonymous tip came into the police, just hours after news broke on the crime. An Air Force Veteran remembered one of his colleagues saying "One day I'm gonna rob that Hi-Fi shop, and if anybody gets in my way, I'll kill them." That man was William Andrews, who was good friends with Pierre Selby and stationed at the same base. On the same day as the tip, two local boys were dumpster diving outside the Air Force Base when they came across something unusual; several empty wallets containing nothing but photographs. It seemed suspicious so they called the police department. When officers arrived, they realised that the photographs belonged to all the victims so they gathered all the men on the air force base to appeal for information. When giving the speech and showing the evidence, most of the men in the crowd stayed silent and looked solemn. All except two. Pierre Selby and William Andrews were seen pacing up an down and looking very nervous, making anxious exchanges to one another. Detectives deemed their behaviour odd, so obtained a search warrant for their barracks.

Police found fliers for the Hi-Fi Shop and a rental contract for a storage unit. In the storage unit, they found stereo equipment taken from the Hi-Fi Shop that was later identified via serial numbers. Police were certain they'd caught the killers so swiftly arrested them, though initial witness reports state that two vans filled with at least 6 black males were seen travelling to the Hi-Fi Shop, they only had enough evidence to arrest Pierre Selby, William Andrews, & eventually Keith Roberts. With the collection of evidence, Pierre and William were charged with were charged with first degree murder and aggravated robbery. The both received the death penalty, and died via lethal injection. Keith was given a lesser sentence due to having no prior knowledge of the murders. He served 13 years of his 5 years to life prison sentence before being granted parole. Once out of prison, he borrowed a relative's gun and shot himself dead, unable to live with the crimes he had help commit.

The case of the Hi-Fi Murders remains one of the darkest in the history of America due to the excessive violence carried out by the attackers. FBI trainees at Quantico, Virginia, are taught about the case and it serves as a sample in the FBI's Crime Classification Manual.

[patchoulimademoiselle]

Guilty. (Part 2.)

Part Two. 

Steve Rogers (Lawyer AU) x Reader Insert.

Word count: 4.9k

Warnings: Natasha Romanoff gives off crazy sex appeal, smoking, self destructive habits, laguange, masturbation, SMUT, fingering, choking.  

Masterlist. 

Part two: 

The next time you see Steve, he's freshly showered with wet hair, clad in a navy suit that brings out the blue of his eyes. He looks tired, even despite all he's done to clean himself up. His eyes are red, his face expressionless, and if it weren't for the coffee in his hand you would be concerned he won't make it through the day.

He grabs you when he gets close enough, hand on your elbow to pull you in close, "I need you on the next one." Is all he says, voice a whisper.

"What is it?" You ask, hand on his chest to stop him from walking inside your office. Wanda is here, and you have something you need to tell him as well. "We need to talk. Privately."

He nods, glancing down at his wrist watch. "Your place in an hour, I need to pack up here. Send Wanda home, don't let her do anything else."

That gets your head spinning, gears turning, the strange way she was acting this morning and the urgency in his demeanor, something is wrong. Very wrong.

You nod, patting twice where your hand rests. You turn on your heel, leaving him to watch after you. You place your hand on Wanda's shoulder, "You've done great today, hun. But I'm going to pack up and head out, you need to do the same. Can you take the metro?"

She nods. "Yeah, sure. Found something worth chasing?" She asks, pencil dropping in her hand.

"Something like that." You sigh. "I'll call you when I need you again. Be safe, and let me know when you're home."

"Sure thing." She looks happy to be sent home early, but annoyed. You woke her up early only to send her home after a few hours. Hopefully you would be able to explain yourself, but for now, she's a liability, and she needs to be gone.

You lock the door behind her, turning to Steve who stands with his arms crossed, deep in thought even though his eyes are already on you.

"Wanda said something to me today-"

"Her brother is involved."

"What?" He cuts you off before you could even finish.

"Her brother is a lawyer on the case. He's her twin, young and inexperienced just like her. But he's licensed, and he's working the case."

You're shocked, sinking back against the door for support. "Do you think she's been leaking information?"

He shakes his head. "No, she doesn't know anything, because we don't know anything."

It's an exaggeration, but it's true, you've hardly covered anything at all for her to start leaking information to her brother. She may not even know he's on the case yet, let alone been able to agree to spy for him.

"So what do we do?" You ask.

"Keep her here, see if she talks." He says, hand on his chin. "Filter her tasks, minor enough to not be important, but important enough to not make her think we're on to her."

"That or miss-feed her." You suggest. "She won't be present in court, she isn't permitted to be without my permission. Whatever she feeds them should be off stray enough to give us an advantage."

"That's good." He nods, eyes flicking to you for a moment. "That's real good."

You have the nerve to smile, letting out a puff of air. You won't tell him about the car ride this morning, at least not yet. Not until he's settled. He's still stressed, you can see it on the wrinkles on his forehead, in the way his fingers twitch against his chin. You know what he's going to ask before he asks it, eyes floating up to your face. "Cigarette?"

You nod to your purse, and he's quick to get it for himself, not even caring to step out on the balcony before lighting one to smoke it. You eye the smoke detector warily. "I need you to come with me for the next one. It's a woman, Natasha Romanoff, and she's going to eat me alive the moment she sets eyes on me."

You aren't sure what that means, but you know it can't be good. You've never heard of her, lawyer or not, and that's never a good sign.

"What do you need me for?" You ask.

"You're a woman, you can read other women. It's up to you to decide if she's full of shit or not."

He speaks so bluntly, as if you two are nothing more than colleagues after all, and a part of you feels uneasy about it. It feels like you're walking into a trap, it feels like all the odds have been stacked against you, and rather than reassure you, his anxiety is making you feel even worse.

"Steve, stop talking like this." You groan, slamming your head back against the door. You still haven't walked away from it. "You're making it sound like we're apart of the mafia and not the public justice system."

He smiles, eyes a little lighter. "We might as well be." Is all he says, walking towards the balcony, letting himself outside.

If you weren't tired before you definitely are now, the lack of sleep the night before on top of all this excitement was proving to be too much for you. You sit back at your desk and take a sip of water, closing your eyes for a moment. You reflect on everything you've just learned, the risk you're taking by keeping Wanda on your team.

She's a good girl, hard working, and it hurts to think that she may betray you down the road. It would be easier to let her go now, gently and easily, tell her that the firm doesn't have enough funding to pay her, tell her that you're unfit to have an assistant. Anything is better than letting the poor girl walk into a trap. You can hear Steve scolding you before you even suggest it. Letting her go would not only be a sign of weakness, exposing a soft spot to women on your team, but also alerting Stark's lawyers that you know what their next move will be. The small advantage you have will be gone in an instant.

The life of a lawyer is a hard one.

"Falling asleep on me?" Steve knocks against your desk top, your eyes snap open to glare at him.

"I wish." You groan, sitting up in your chair. "What do we need to go to my place for?"

"In an hour," He reminds you. "We have something else to talk about, something entirely unrelated to this case."

That has your attention, sleep deprivation leaving you. "About?"

There's a smile on his face that you can't place, a ghost of a smirk curling his lips in a way that makes your stomach flip and flushes your cheeks. "You'll see." He doesn't give you time to dwell on it, nodding towards the door, telling you it's time to go.

You grab your purse and take one last sip of water, pushing your hair back off your face before you stand. Your heels echo as you follow after him, making sure to lock the door to your office behind you.

Natasha Romanoff is a character, that's all you can say while being respectful of her practice as a former lawyer. She's witty, giving off a sex appeal that leaves even you flustered a few times, not to mention Steve. He's a speechless fool every time she locks eyes with him, and a part of you is jealous by that, the other part knowing you have no choice but to speak up and save him from the torture she's putting him through. It's all a test, and now you understood your purpose in going along. He needed saving, a solid reminder to remain professional no matter what. If you weren't there, she probably would have tried to seduce him.

But you don't fall under her spell so easily, remaining stone faced as she throws her best wit at you, and her most obscene pick up lines. She's good. She knows how good she looks, and she uses it to her full advantage. It's a dirty trick to use in a court room, but it's gained her a successful career that you can only dream off, so you try to show her nothing but respect as you drill her with your questions.

"We're here about Stark." You cut the formalities, Steve shifts and readjusts his suit jacket. "We can't walk into this blind, we need to know his strategies."  

She's smiling at you over a cup of tea, she offered you one and of course you both declined, not classy enough to drink something like tea. "Stark is unpredictable." She says, lipstick leaving a bright red print behind on her cup. "Let's start there."

Notepad and pen at the ready, Steve pulls out his phone to record, setting it out on the table for all to see. Natasha takes note of it and rolls her eyes. "You can quote me on anything you want, but don't think I'm going to testify." She says. "Stark will ruin all of us, don't be stupid."

It was stupid, the way Steve laid all of your cards out on the table. It shows how desperate you really are, you have no tricks up your sleeve and no back up plan. But the again, it could be a front. Natasha doesn't know that you have a potential spy on your team, she also doesn't know that you're fully aware of just how desperate Stark must be as well. Either way, you trust her enough to be truthful, but calling her to the stand would be a suicide mission. She's obviously afraid of Stark, and you aren't blind to the fact that she would turn on you if it were in her favor.

"We don't want you on the stand." Steve says what you were thinking, and you try to hide a smile. "We just want to know what he'll try to throw at us."

You're in sync, two of the same mind, and my god, if there was ever a time you wanted to kiss him, it would be right now. He looks so serious, determination spread across his features, yet there's a tint to his cheeks that gives away his exhaustion, the lack of sleep you had the night before would soon catch up with you both, coffee or not, and you have a feeling that somehow it's going to inconvenience you.

"Everything he can." Natasha sets down her tea cup, shifting in her seat. "Especially whatever this is." She waves a finger between you both, "This protectiveness you have of each other will be the end of you. They'll dig into it and exploit it."

You know that, Steve knows that, and it's the very reason that there is nothing going on between you to begin with. But the chemistry is there, there is no hiding that. A stranger could tell, a woman who has laid eyes on you for just a few minutes. It's obvious that there is something, even if it's not official, and even if it hasn't been explored.

If her observation phases him, he doesn't let it show, eyebrows furrowed. "He plays dirty, sure. We know that. Tell me something I can't hear anywhere else," Steve says. "What has he asked from you personally as a lawyer."

Her eyes slit down into a glare, one that stops your heart beat even though it isn't directed at you. "I'm not going to testify."

"Yes, we know." You sigh, tapping a single fingernail on the table. "Off the record, the recording is just for our notes. Just tell us exactly how dirty he can get. What are some things that he's asked of you in the past?" What laws has he broken?

She hesitates, pondering her options and their consequences, then lets out a heavy sigh, settling back into her seat with her fingers pressed to her temples. "This is going to ruin my credibility." She says. "I can't give you specifics, but he does like to bend the rules a bit. He looks for loopholes, breaking one law in favor of another to cover his ass."

She stands, walking back to her desk and pulling open a drawer, you and Steve exchange a look, his hand clamps down on your thigh as he offers you a tired smile, forced, but the gesture shines through nonetheless. "I do have something I can give you though. It's a case I worked on, it was kept out of the media, but there may be some details here that can help you." She digs around, fingers skimming alphabetically arranged folders, plucking one up and bringing it back over to you. "It's a lawsuit over workers comp'," She says, eyes on you. "It's not much, but it's all I can offer."

It's good enough, she's smart, and she knows exactly what's being put on the line by helping you. So you take what you can get, nodding, you take the file from her hand. "Thank you." You say, standing, and Steve follows suit. You shake her hand. "You know how the reach us, let me know if we can ever return the favor in the future."

You've made an ally, you realize now that Natasha wasn't a dirty lawyer, she was just smart enough to know better than risk her career and reputation. She's got a bit of red in her ledger, but by helping you she's wiping it out, doing what she can where she can, and you respect it wholeheartedly.

You both leave, Steve's hand on your back to push you forward as you leave Natasha's office. In his car, you open the file she gave you, looking over the case she was assigned. It's a couple years old, but fairly similar to what you're dealing with. Stark Industries refusing to pay a worker, the lawsuit was buried under false claims of fraud, the employee was fired and had to pay a settlement fine. "Steve," You reach over and pat his arm, his eyes floating over to you for a moment, his hand flexing on the steering wheel. "This is golden."

The small handout Natasha gave you is huge, a gold mine, all you had to do was find this former employee and convince them to go on the stand along with James Barnes. "What is it?" Steve asks.

"You need to meet with, Brock Rumlow." Your eyes scan the file. "Former employee who sued for workers comp, Stark buried him under false fraud charges."

Steve hums, thumb tapping against the steering wheel, "I'll go by tomorrow after I look over his file. Offer him immunity, and a chance to reopen his case. He'll be fully compensated, there's no reason he'll say no if he's looking for a chance to get his justice."

You sound like vigilantes, smiling to yourself as you shut the file and tuck it into your purse for safe keeping. You don't go back to the office, Steve turns down your street and you remember suddenly that he wanted to meet at your place. The nerves set in immediately, a silence falling between you as he pulls into your driveway, cutting the engine of his car.

He takes off his seat belt, shifts a bit to look at you, and for the first time, you're nervous to be alone with him.

"Of all the years I've known you, I've never known you to be shy, Y/n." He says, tone deep and voice mocking your demeanor.

You glare over at him, "I've never known you to be so reserved with me."

Both are lies. You were shy at first, eager to please and never wanting to disappoint, his every criticism molding you into the lawyer you are today. He was never open with you at first, his trust was something you had to earn, but now that your dynamic was established, the silence between you feels like something from a past life. You, a shiny new assistant, and he your mentor. A flash back into the past, you feel so small sitting next to him.

You expect him to say something coy, but his eyes are tired as he looks at you. "Are you going to invite me in or not?"

With a roll of your eyes, and him hot on your trail, you get out of the car and unlock the front door, letting him inside. You step out of your heels, dropping in height, and move quickly to get away from him before he can comment on it. You head into the kitchen, putting on a fresh pot of coffee, turning to find him standing at the island, eyes locked on you.

"What did you want to talk about?" You lean back against the sink, arms crossed, a safe distance between you. Yet you still feel a bit flustered under his gaze.

"Us," He says it simply, as if that should answer your question. "This case is going to be dangerous for us."

The way he says the word sends a chill up your spine, and you can't stop yourself from shivering. The word weighs heavily in your mind and on his tongue, the hint of something more, the same something everyone sees but you're too afraid to acknowledge.

"There is no us."

The words sound flat to your own ears, unconvinced, and the pointed look he gives you from across the island says the same. "There is an us." He says, palms flat on the marble table top. "It's forbidden, and unspoken, but it's there." He pauses, sighs to himself, "And it's driving me crazy."

Driving him crazy, your memories take you back to your fresh days at the firm, those days where you didn't have to pretend not to like each other, where you could bask in his appreciative gaze and not have to think twice about the consequences. You wish it could feel that way now, pinned under his stare, you wish you could enjoy it, but all you feel is the risk you're taking by even been here right now, completely alone in your house where anyone could assume anything.

He licks his lips, makes a move to step around the counter, and you stop him before he can get any closer, finger pointed at him in warning, "Don't you dare."

Don't you dare come any closer because I won't be able to stop myself.

You busy yourself with pouring two mugs of coffee, adding cream and sugar for him, just sugar for you, glaring at the man as you slide his mug across the island to him. He matches your stare, forever challenging you, not stopping even as he takes a sip.

"We can't." Is all you say. "We can't, and you know we can't. So don't."

The air falls silent between you, and for a moment you think he's going to listen to you. You think he's going to stay away and stick to the rules he set long ago when you first met. But then he sets his mug down, rounding the island to takes yours from you as well, setting it aside.

He's on you quick, fingers on your jaw to hold you in place as he captures your lips in a warm kiss. Your eyes flutter closed, the feeling you've longed for washing over you, leaning into his touch. His other hand is on your hip, grip digging in, and it's enough to snap you out of it.

You pull back, leaning over the sink behind you. He tries to follow. "Steve-" Your voice comes out as a strangled wine, and it doesn't help your case, his lips peppering against your jaw instead.

"Everything you do is such a tease." He says, fingers sliding down your throat. "Even when you try to resist me, you were designed to tempt me."

You don't know where this is coming from, he always seems so collected around you. But here, now, he's losing it, your very existence eating away at his resolve.

"Your little skirts and high heels, you have no idea-" He cuts himself off, shoulders rising with each breath he takes, grinding his hips against you, and oh, you feel it.

You aren't a lawyer right now, all your training and years of experience out of the window. Right now you were completely at his mercy, held under his grip, right where he wants you. You gasp as you feel his grip tighten around your neck, pulling you to meet his lips once again.

You don't resist the second time, eyes closing as you wrap your arms around his neck. He hums against your lips, approval, hands dropping to hoist you up on the edge of your sink, prying your legs apart to wrap around his torso.

You can feel his bare hands on your thighs, inching their way up under your skirt, it makes you flinch, touch starved, not expecting the intimacy of him holding you here like this. Your thoughts betray you, your body betrays you, your back arching into his touch, pressing you against his chest. You've had a little taste, his hands warm as they explore, and now you've decided you want more.

His lips are warm with coffee, lips sweet with sugar, and when he grinds into you this time, you feel it right between your legs, the material of his pants brushing against your panties. You don't hold back this time, moaning into his mouth. He swallows it eagerly, tugging you even closer if possible.

"Do you remember?" He whispers against your lips, letting you catch your breath. "Do you remember how I used to spread you out on my desk just like this?"

He doesn't let you answer though, eyes falling from yours to examine you fully, and you can feel when his gaze reaches your sex, "Cute panties."

You want him to ruin them, push them to the side and stretch them out as he fucks you. Right here, bent over the sink like you're the house keeper, his dirty little secret.

A whine slips past your lips at the thought, your legs squeezing his hips in an attempt to grant yourself some kind of friction, and he had the nerve to coo at you, kissing your lips. "You little succubus." He says, "I've dreamed about this."

Something about Steve Rogers naked in bed and dreaming of you sounds dirty, and you decide you like it, suddenly his kisses aren't enough for you.

"Steve-" Again, you call his name, not sure what else to say. But the urgency is there, the strain in your voice and the desperation in your eyes is all clear to him as you muster up enough courage to touch him, fingers cupping him through his pants, your knuckles brushing against your own sex at the same time.

He inhales sharply, closing his eyes, and you enjoy the brief power you have over him, massaging his erection. It doesn't last long, fingers wrapping around your wrist to pull you away.

He draws back as far as your legs let him, eyes locking with yours. "This will never happen, I meant that." He says, "But I can't stop wanting you."

It's like he's trying to torture you, and you've had enough. "Please just touch me." You're not one to beg. But for this, you would drop to your knees if he asked you to. "If you can't do anything else, just touch me."

He hesitates, finger pushing your panties to the side, the pad of his thumb gliding through your slick. It pulls a groan form him that you've never heard before, realizing that you're this wet for him. "Fuck, Y/n." He pants against your mouth, kissing long forgotten as he steals a glance down at the scene in front of him. "You're so good."

You don't know what he means by that, you don't know if he's talking about how you look, or how you feel, but either way you relish in his praise, nudging his face with yours to kiss him again.

He's greedy, slipping his tongue into your mouth, drawing slow circles with the pad of his thumb as you grind into his hand. It becomes too much, the pressure directly where you need it, and you try to back away for some air.

"No, don't run." His grip on your thigh is tight as he holds you in place. "This is what you wanted, isn't it? My hand up your skirt?" He kisses your cheek, pressing his thumb hard against your clit. You whine, body twitching at the intensity of his touch. "This is what you've been after all those late nights you pranced around teasing me?"

Teasing him how? You can't think, his words too much when they're accompanied with touch.

"Hair a mess, shirt undone, you don't realize what you look like?" He's slow in slipping his fingers inside of you, "You look good enough to fuck."

All the times he's reminded you why this can't happen fly right out of the window at the thought of him fucking you, at the thought of what his cock might look like, tip swollen red and leaking precum, stretching you out slowly.

"You want me to fuck you, don't you?"

You've never moved so quick, head nodding at a pace that rattles your brain a little. And he has the nerve to smirk, shaking his head at you. "I can't, baby." It makes you whine, and he's quick to shush you with a kiss. "There will be no stopping if I do, you know what's at stake."

But his actions contrast his words, cock growing in his pants right before your very eyes. His fingers pick up speed, his other hand at the small of your back to balance you, "Don't move." Is all he says, fingers moving at a rapid pace, the palm of his hand brushing your clit.

You clench around his fingers, feeling your pleasure start to build up, and it makes him shudder at the feeling. He can see it, your pussy throbbing in anticipation as he fucks you with his fingers, and he wants nothing more than to replace them with his cock. He groans, closing his eyes, not able to stand the sight of it.

But then you do something unexpected, eyes snapping open when you reach to undo his pants, freeing his erection. It springs up at attention, red and swollen, the sight of it alone makes you jolt, fingers eager to touch him.

He gasps at your touch, because you do something he's never felt before, your palm cupping his tip and smearing his precum as you slowly jerk him off, his hips matching your every movement.

When he cums, it's warm against the tops of your thighs, glistening as he continues to fuck his fingers into you. Your toes curl, and he realizes that you're struggling to orgasm. He decides to take mercy on you, pulling you against his chest, voice in your ear, "Is this what you need?" He asks, kissing your neck. "Can't come without my voice in your head?"

He's teasing you, throwing it right in your face that you can't get off without a little affection, but you don't care, panting and desperate, teetering on the edge of what you want.

"It's okay, I got you." He nudges his nose along your jaw, pulling back to steak a kiss from you. You hate the fact that it's helping. And then, "Cum."

And you do, hard, twitching under his hold. He kisses you through it, fingers slowing ever so slightly, until finally you're left slumped against him. He reaches for a dish towel, wiping you clean before helping you back down onto your feet. You feel exhausted, panting for breath, sweat coating your face, too tired to register the way he slips his fingers into his mouth.

"You did good work today," He says, leaning in to kiss you one last time, and you taste yourself on his lips. "Get some sleep."

He lets you go then, smile tired and lazy as he walks around the island. "Steve, my car."

He doesn't say anything in response to that, he only shrugs his shoulders, the atmosphere shifting once again. "We need to stay on our toes." He says. "And you need to meet with James at least once before the trial. He requested it. I'll take you."

It amazes you how quickly he recovered, just seconds ago he was cumming across your thighs and now he's stone faced as if he didn't just lick your cum off of his fingers.

"Okay. I'll meet with James tomorrow, you can meet with Brock." You nod at your own suggestion. "It will give me an excuse to keep Wanda away tomorrow."

He finishes his coffee and leaves, not saying another word, and a part of you feels oddly rejected by it. He comes here, gets you all worked up, chases a nut and then leaves. The worst part is that you can't deny how much you enjoyed it. The feeling of his lips against yours, the dirty words he whispered in your ear, his cock hard in your hand. It has you horny all over again, the shower head pressed to your sex as you shower, eyes closed tight as you imagine it being something else entirely.

You sleep well that night, the ghost feeling of his hands on your body, and it's the best sleep you've had in a while.

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

Steve is a piece of shit, and I love it. 

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