#judge gavel/paper

[dailypapership]

Paper ship of the day.

Judge Gavel x Paper

[dailyiisideship]

Today's ii wheel side ship of the day is...

Looseleaf x Judge Gavel!

[nanamiskentos]

LAY DOWN THE LAW — 五条悟 GOJO SATORU

PLOT 𐙚 Gojo Satoru is the city's hottest attorney and your maddeningly smug boss. Ten years of will-they-won’t-they office tension come to a head when a late night at the firm finally pushes you both over the edge, right onto his desk, and then some. You might be the secretary, but tonight? You’re the one running the court, with your hand shafted around a very big . . . gavel.

FEATURING Gojo Satoru x Reader

CW 𐙚 afab!reader, MDNI, Workplace AU, Boss x Secretary, Suits!AU, Lawyer!Gojo, power plays, possessive language, desk séx, couch séx, semi-public, oràl (f), cowgírl, swítch!Gojo, líght restraínts, praisé kínk, bíting/màrking, mànhandling, unprotected séx, GOJO IS A YEARNER

WC 𐙚 5.1k

NOTE 𐙚 one of my friends started watching suits for the first time and it got me thinking of the good old days...

The firm's office was quiet. Eerily so. The sterile kind of silence that only settled after sunset, when the junior associates had scurried off and the city skyline outside blurred into a sea of flickering lights and taxi horns.

Nights like this always felt heavier somehow, thick in your chest like an aching, hungry fog. Not because of the overtime, hell, you practically lived in this building and wore your stellar competence like a badge of honour, but because after hours meant only one thing.

You were alone. With him.

Satoru Gojo.

Senior partner. The best closer in the city, a hotshot lawyer snug in designer suits. A certified dream and nightmare wrapped into one tall, toned package.

And the worst part? You didn't even mind craving his presence, like a moth to a sparkling, blue flame.

Your gaze always lingered past the edge of your desk when Gojo strolled by in the mornings, leaving you with that casual wink as though gravity bent around him, and you just happened to be in its pull. His stupidly expensive Armani suits, his smug, whiny quips and that sharp-fanged grin that made you want to slap and straddle him in the same breath.

Which is exactly why your heart stuttered when the intercom crackled to life, and his voice slid through, smooth as a neat pour of whiskey, "Doll, can you come in here for a second?"

You knew the drill. Some last-minute filing. A deposition draft he suddenly had to review. Gojo would pour you a crystal glass of scotch, pretend to talk business, and shiver when you leaned in far too close behind his oaken desk, eyes lingering on the swan-curve of your neck.

And like always, you would pretend not to notice, pressing your thighs together to relieve the wayward tension he wrought in you.

But tonight? You were in no mood to play the pretty secretary as diligently as you had been for the past few years. You grit the tips of your heels into the soft carpet to heave open the heavy glass door to his office, not bothering to knock.

Gojo glances up from a stack of clean paper, leaning back in his pristine chair with the ease of a man who brought in millions upon millions of dollars in merger deals each year for the firm. His navy tie was loosened, top button of his starch-white shirt undone.

White hair tousled as though he had run a frustrated hand through it one too many times, and judging by the way his blue eyes greedily dragged up your frame and snagged on your collarbone, you were the reason.

"Late night?" You ask, tone clipped as you watch how the city lights spilled through the high-rise windows behind him, painting him in gold, and blue, and deep, dangerous shadow.

"Thought you could help me with something," Gojo tosses a crisp folder your way, and your nails snag into the thin cardboard without blinking, "Couple of items that needed sorting."

"You couldn't have done this tomorrow? This is just copy-room administration."

Gojo tilts his head, lashes pale as snow, and unfairly long, "You were still here," he shrugs with a casual indifference that doesn't match the tension gnawing at his jaw, "Figured I'd make use of your talents."

The bob of his Adam's apple clearly gave away the flimsy excuse, for Gojo Satoru has always been hungry for the sight of you, even when he was pretending otherwise.

Tonight, though, that smug smile and velvet tone hits different, like a match dragged too slowly across the box, and your jaw clenches.

Gojo had always hovered right there, just shy of indecent in the silent hours of the night. Just enough innuendo to make your thighs clench, but never enough to tip over.

Like he got off dragging the two of you to the edge, and then walking away.

No more.

You step forward, scuffing your heel into the soft weave of the floor, and slapping the folder flat on his desk, "You always do this."

Gojo blinks, jewel-blue eyes owlish and flicking innocently, "Do what?"

"Treat me like I'm yours. Flirt with me. Buy me expensive shit, –" You lean in, meeting the defensive scowl in his eyes, "You took me shopping privately for a Hermès bag this morning, apparently just because."

You know Gojo Satoru enough to recognise the twitch in his expression, the flicker of something real and not cloaked in his endless bravado.

You refuse to let up, "So tell me, Gojo. Are you ever actually going to do something about it?"

"I thought you were seeing that investment banker from the 46th floor," Gojo mutters, jaw tight as his eyes tear themselves away from you, the swell of your chest with considerable effort.

Ah. Nanami Kento.

That fling was brief, for while you liked your men strong, you didn't quite like them silent.

No hard feelings, of course.

"That ended six months ago," you say coolly, "And when I first told you about him, you didn't speak to me for a week. What was that about?"

Silence. You can't hear anything else but the hard, pounding beat of your pulse, and the faint hum of electricity running in the background, keeping parts of the office lit.

Gojo stands, not abruptly nor angrily. Just deliberately, like a man who already made up his mind long ago.

You inch back automatically, the edge of the desk pressing against the small of your back, below the crux of your spine. Gojo follows, close, too close. Heat radiates off your boss like static, and his scent, mint and cedar, curls in your lungs.

A large hand cups your jaw, and his touch isn't rough. Gojo uses just enough pressure to make you tilt your chin up to meet those storm-blue eyes. Darker now, dilated and devouring.

"Say the word," Gojo murmurs, voice thick with something you could even mistake as longing, "And I'll show you that I'm yours right here."

Your throat bobs, a hot flush beginning to kiss the tips of your ears, "What? Here, Gojo, –" You're hissing, even though you knew the building was entirely empty, and it was well past midnight.

Gojo's index finger is pressed to your lips, "You want me to be an honest man?" A wicked but almost bashful smile ghosting over the mouth of the most confident and self-assured man that you know, "Fine. I want to kiss you."

You don't give him the chance to ask again.

Grabbing the finely tailored lapels of his suit, and pulling the attorney down into you, kissing him hard. Tasting mint, coffee and the ghost of lemon candy on his tongue as his hand slams back against the desk, and you can swear he whimpers.

Gojo chases after you like a man starved. The press of his lips both hot and urgent, his clever tongue teasing until you groan, biting his lower lip hard enough to taste the tell-tale tang of iron.

That earns you another sound from deep in his throat, something that sounds almost grateful, and he pulls you closer. Looping a strong around your waist, already tugging at the hem of your top.

You think that the only downside of having Gojo Satoru like this, is the human need to pull back for oxygen.

But he seems almost magnetically drawn to you, eyes lingering on the glossy sheen coating your mouth, his breath shallow as he heaves a sharp breath, "Always wanted to know what you would taste like."

"Oh, yeah? Got your answer?"

"Well, one part of my answer," Gojo's large hands are running along the silky seam of your stockings, and you involuntarily shiver as you push against the firm planes of his chest, snaking your manicured hand lower.

"You're already hard."

Gojo gives you a faintly embarrassed, dull look, but it's true enough. There's a rock solid tent in his dark slacks, aching for friction against your thigh, as he murmurs against your jaw, "What, you think if I put my hands up your skirt, you're not gonna' be wet?"

What use is there in denying cold, hard facts?

Gojo's hands run down to your waist, spinning you around so fast that your palms slam against the hard surface of his desk for balance.

The wood is cold beneath your skin, spotless and severe, and each pen on his desk is lined up with military precision, not a page out of place.

For now.

You can feel the white-haired man behind you, his body heat pressing into your back as he leans over, pink lips brushing the delicate shell of your ear, "This desk's seen a lot of action," he murmurs, "But nothin' like this."

Your heart is thudding as soft, suckled marks are bruised gently into your neck, "You ever bend a client over it?"

"No," Gojo scoffs, dragging his hands up your sides once more, slow and reverent as though he wants to commit your form to memory, "Only ever thought about my favourite secretary."

You're gasping, lips slack, as he kicks your legs slightly apart at the knee, and then, fuck — his fingers are sliding up your inner thigh. Bold, skilled and confident.

When he find the wet heat, slick and searing between your legs, Gojo groans against your neck, "God, you really are mine, huh?"

"Check the paperwork, then, S-Satoru," You're hissing, trying to stay snide, even as your hips hungrily rock into his touch. Ensuring that you grind your dripping, plump folds against his fingers, coating his knuckles with your arousal.

"Oh, I will," Gojo purrs, "In fact –"

Gojo keeps a solid arm snug around you, holding you up as his other hand reaches for something on the desk, and before you can question what on earth he's doing now, you hear the rustle of paper.

He's got your file, that faded résumé that you had dropped in his lap when you had first demanded he hire you. You twist your head to blearily glare at him just as he flips it open.

"You had excellent references," Gojo muses, as though he's reading aloud to a jury. Meanwhile, two long fingers are filthily sliding into you, slow and deep, curling just right in pursuit for a sweet spot, "Punctual. Detail-oriented. Loyal. Mhm, tight too. Didn't see that in the résumé."

"S-Satoru," You choke out, nails already curling half-crescents into the polished wood. His palm now roughly angled so you can drag your throbbing cunt over his hand, and still catch enough friction to soothe your aching clit.

"Ah-ah," The white-haired man clicks his tongue, hooking his middle finger so a fresh wave of slick clings to the fine dusting of pale, white hair on his hand, "That's Gojo during business hours."

"It's past m-midnight."

"Heh, you're right," Gojo snickers, battering his fingers against that roughened, sweet spot, "In that case, call me whatever ya' want, doll."

You arch into his tender touch, breath hitcing as his fingers fuck you with the kind of steady rhythm that says he's had this moment planned, fantasised and rehearsed.

His other hand warmly slips under your top, pushing the fabric side just enough to tug your bra down, and palm your breast, thumb brushing your pebbled nipple as you whimper.

"You like this?" Gojo asks, the liquid-smooth tone of his voice now tinged with a hungry rasp, and his lips continue to delicately press kisses over the nape of your neck, "Letting your boss finger you over his quarterly earnings report?"

You try to respond, but your pleas come out more as a garbled moan, stifled as he probes his fingers against the elastic walls of your cunt.

Gojo grins, "Didn't catch that, sweet girl. You're gonna' have to say it like you mean it."

"F-fuck, yes, yes," you gasp, back arching as your thighs strain with the most delicious ache, "Want more, p-please."

Gojo stills, not all the way, just enough to make you squirm, hips rolling helplessly into the hand that no longer moves, breath catching in your throat as the heat and rhythm disappear.

His touch lingers, taunting, maddening, and you whine before you can stop yourself, the sound slipping past your lips like a plea you didn���t mean to give him.

He huffs a quiet laugh, the kind that curls down your spine like smoke, "More?" he echoes, faux-innocent and infuriating, his voice that same low, slick tone he uses when convincing clients to sign over the promise of ten million dollars, "You think I just give it away, doll?"

Your response is instant, breathy and heated, punctuated by the steady drip of your slick against his desk, "I earned it, didn't I?"

And that, that does something to Gojo. You feel the change. Like a muscle coiled too tight finally snapping loose.

It's in the way his warm grip tightens on your hips, the way he exhales like he’s been holding his breath for years, the guttural sound he lets out as he drops to his knees with a heavy thud, slacks creased, like a man possessed.

In one fluid motion, your translucent, sopping panties are around your ankles, torn down so fast the elastic snaps, and Gojo's murmuring a kiss of apology against your thigh, and his broad hands are dragging your thighs apart like he's carving out space for worship.

"Consider this your bonus," Gojo murmurs, voice dark with promise, ruined at the mere sight of your glossy, winking pussy, and then his mouth is on you.

Your gasp punches out of you like it's been yanked from the base of your spine. His tongue is hot and wet and obscene, sliding through your folds with the kind of deliberate slowness that makes you tremble. He licks you like he's determined to learn you, like he's done the theory, read the case notes, and now it's time for oral arguments.

And God, he's good at it. Gojo is really good at it.

He flicks his tongue over your swollen clit with practiced ease, teasing little circles that send white-hot pulses of pleasure through your gut. Every time your hips buck, he anchors you tighter, one arm locking around your thigh while the other drags you closer by the small of your back, forcing you to stay still and take it so perfectly for him.

"You're so w-wet," Gojo groans into your cunt, lips slick and voice reverent, like he’s drunk off the taste of your sweet pussy, "What's the matter, baby? Can't focus when someone's actually giving you what you need?"

Your fingers scramble for purchase on the desk’s edge as he sucks your clit into his mouth, tongue rolling against it with maddening rhythm. Your eyes flutter, head tipping back, your entire body buzzing with pleasure.

Your knees nearly buckle when he hums, hums, as though he's tasting vintage wine.

When Gojo pulls back at last, his mouth is shining, and he looks positively wrecked in the best way. Flushed cheeks, jaw damp, pupils blown wide. The front of his suit is creased, rumpled beyond salvation. His deep-blue tie's hanging off one shoulder. And his blinding grin is nothing short of smug.

"Gonna' bend you over this desk now,” Gojo says casually, like he's scheduling a client call, "Heels on. Hands flat. Keep your voice down unless you want HR to catch the encore on security footage."

You barely hear the rest of the sentence, you're already moving, limbs moving on instinct, spine arching as you brace yourself against the desk.

And you don’t even realise you're obeying until your palms hit the polished wood and you feel the weight of Gojo behind you again, hot and solid and absolutely unrelenting.

And when he finally pushes into you, all thick, hot, and utterly unforgiving inches upon inches, it knocks the breath straight from your lungs.

There's no teasing now, no soft wind-up or slow drag. Just the blunt, overwhelming stretch of his fat mushroom-tip probing and filling you in one deliberate thrust that has your back arching and your mouth falling open in a wordless moan.

You gasp, the sound stuttering against your forearm as you brace yourself on the desk, eyes squeezing shut from the sheer intensity of it.

Gojo's big. Oh, he knows it's big, and he fucks like he's trying to remind you of it with every single stroke. Ensuring that you never forget the sticky slap! of his thighs tacking against your own, dribbling with arousal and the prelude to his seed.

The white-haired man's hands clamp down on your hips, fingers digging into the soft flesh there with a bruising grip as he snaps his hips into yours, relentless and smooth, like he’s been waiting years for this.

The desk jerks with every thrust, drawers rattling. Loose pages scatter to the floor. Gojo's gilded nameplate goes flying with a clatter, landing somewhere near your pricey heels, and the coffee mug you brought him earlier tips over, soaking a stack of contracts you'd spent the whole afternoon organising.

Neither of you care.

"Fuck," Gojo groans, whiny voice fraying at the edges, rough and low and needy, "Look at you. Taking it so f-fucking well. Like this pretty pussy was made to be bent over my desk."

You let out a strangled moan, fingers scrabbling for purchase on the slick wood surface, the edge biting into your hips with every push forward. Your legs are trembling, heels still on, body taut with sensation, overstimulated already and aching for more. And you try to speak, to respond, but the words break apart in your dry throat, "Y-you are so –"

"Charming?" Gojo grits out, breath hot against the back of your neck as he leans forward to press his chest to your spine, one hand leaving your hip to curl around your throat, not tight, just enough to tilt your head up, "Devastatingly handsome? Ridiculously good at fillin' you up? You're gonna' have to be more specific, doll."

You let out something between a sob and a laugh, even as your eyes roll back at the next thrust. And Gojo's voice lowers to a murmur, but there's nothing soft in it, just heat, possession, a hint of desperation bleeding through the snark, "C'mon, baby. Say it. Say you're mine. Please."

You manage it on a gasp, voice wrecked, pleasure-drenched, "I'm —f-fuck, I'm yours."

That does it. Gojo groans like you just handed him a verdict in his favor, like your words scratched some raw, aching itch inside him that nothing else could reach, "Y-yeah, you are,” he growls, "All f-fucking mine."

He fucks you harder after that, messy, frantic, a little feral. One hand back on your hip, the other dragging down your back to press between your shoulder blades, holding you down, keeping you right there as he takes you like a man who’s been dreaming about this for far too long.

You can feel every solid, veined inch of him. The way he stretches you open, the obscene slick sounds between your thighs, the way his cock hits deep and perfect on every roll of his hips. His pace is devastating, measured and punishing and so fucking good it sends white sparks bursting behind your eyelids.

You must be drooling into the desk, heat curling in your belly, orgasm building again, fast and dangerous and unstoppable. And behind you, Gojo's voice breaks on a groan as he mutters against your ear, "You gonna' come for me again, pretty girl? Wanna feel you s-squeeze me while I fill you up. You gonna' let me, yeah?"

Your answer is a breathless, wrecked moan, because yes, fuck, yes —

And that’s all he needs. You barely manage to stay standing.

Your legs are jelly, trembling under the weight of overstimulation and everything he's just done to you, your thighs slick with him, your blouse clinging to sweat-damp skin, buttons half-torn and collar askew. Your breath comes in short, uneven pants, chest heaving against the edge of the desk like it’s the only thing keeping you upright.

Gojo's still behind you, spurting cock slowly being dragged out of your puffy, twitching folds, not touching, but there, looming, panting, shirt untucked, white hair wild and matted with sweat. He looks ruined. Flushed. Like he’s just sprinted all sixty floors of the high-rise with you on his mind.

And then Gojo sees it.

The faint red imprint of his hand blooming across your hip. The angry mark his Prada belt buckle left above the curve of your ass. The glimmer of your slick smeared across his cock, still hard, twitching against his abdomen, and soaking into the fine dusting of white hair crawling over his groin, glistening like proof of what he just did to you.

Gojo's pupils dilate, and whatever blue was left in his eyes vanishes beneath the darker, more reverent hunger, "Mine," he murmurs, half to himself, voice hushed and hoarse, like he has to say it out loud to believe you're real, "You're mine."

You twist to look at him, wobbly on your heels but a faint ghost of a smile paints your lips all the same, "Yeah, Satoru?" you say, voice still a little wrecked, "Then sit down."

Gojo blinks, stunned for just a second, the most in-demand lawyer in the city whipped into flushed silence from the command. But you just jut your chin toward the couch, charcoal-grey leather, sleek and smooth.

"I said sit."

There's a pause. A flicker of something wild in Gojo's incredulous expression, like he wants to fight it. But then his lips part into a grin that borders on worshipping, like he's never been bossed around in his life and is so damn into it, "Yes, ma'am."

Gojo drops onto the couch, milky and muscular thighs spread wide, weeping cock hard and glistening and flushed an angry red from base to tip. White-haired head lolling back against the cushions as he exhales like a man undone. His tie is half-off, collar loose, suit beyond salvation.

You straddle him before he can get cocky again, knees pressed into the cushions, ruined skirt hitched around your waist, heat still pulsing between your legs as you slide over his broad lap. Gojo's hands fly to your hips automatically, gripping tight, like his body's already memorised every inch of your skin like a precious canvas already.

"I'm still ya' boss, you know," Gojo says, looking up at you through those sinfully pale lashes, trying for cocky and failing, it comes out breathless and wanting.

You roll your hips down slowly, grinding against Gojo's lap, until the head of his spurting cock slips against your entrance, snagging against your walls, and his head thunks back with a guttural groan and a raspy, "Fuck."

"Don't think so, 'Toru," you murmur, voice low, syrupy, and you can feel his cock twitch against your inner thigh, jumping at the abbreviated name, "Right now? I wanna' be in charge."

That does it. Whatever minuscule control Gojo had snaps.

He grips the plush flesh of your ass, and yanks you down as he thrusts up into you, burying himself to the hilt in one sharp, perfect stroke that leaves you gasping and mewling at the tip of his cock swabbing deeply within you.

It's so utterly messy and wet, and filthy, your bodies crashing together with the raw sound of sex, of urgency, of months, no, years of restraint finally shattered.

Gojo's hungry mouth finds your neck, open and greedy, licking and biting like he wants to leave a roadmap behind, a pattern he wants to follow forevermore. You gasp, manicured nails clawing down his chest, raking through the remnants of his tailored dress shirt.

"You like that?" You're whining, voice catching as your hips start to rock once more, adjusted to the sheer girth of him, pace steady and punishing, "Getting m-marked?"

"Fuck, yeah," Gojo groans, snapping his hips up so hard your breath stutters, and a steady plap! plap! plap! echoes in the empty office. "Want you to w-wreck me, doll. Wan' the whole d-damn firm to see I belong to you."

You're certainly not gentle when you kiss him again. You slam your mouth to his, teeth and tongue and something that tastes like vengeance and victory. He kisses back like he's still starving, like he hasn't eaten in weeks and you're his last meal, what he's been craving the most.

Somehow, somewhere in the chaos, his silky tie ends up wrapped loosely around your wrists, a makeshift restraint anchoring your hand to the back of his neck, keeping you steady as you bounce in Gojo's lap, feeling him sway the thick bulge of his cock in and out of you. You can feel the thrum of his pulse there, frantic and wild, syncing with yours.

"I dream about this, you know?" Gojo mutters against your mouth, nibbling on your glossy lower lip. "Y-you. Riding me and using m-me. Fuck, I wake up hard just thinking about your voice."

Your pussy must be drooling all over his lap, and your walls tighten around him and Gojo chokes, his blue eyes rolling back for a second as his chest flushes a pale shade of strawberry red.

"Then wake u-up, 'Toru," you whisper, lips brushing his jaw, gently nipping at the soft skin, "And t-take it."

And Gojo does. He thrusts his cock up into you, hard and deep, pace brutal and beautiful all at once. His hands are everywhere, gripping your hips, palming your breasts, fingers sliding down your spine to hold you in place while he slams into you with the rhythm of a man unhinged.

Gojo's mouth latches onto your collarbone, biting down hard enough to bruise, and when you do the same to his shoulder, he whines, "More," he begs, "Give me more. F-fucking ruin me. Leave your teeth in me, I'm yours."

His hand slips between your bodies, calloused thumb rubbing tight, fast circles over your clit as you ride him, and the pleasure builds fast, white-hot and sharp, until you're shaking with it, your moans dissolving into ragged gasps.

"Gojo, –" you breathe, barely above a strangled whisper as his cock carves out loud squelches and leaves you both boneless and breathless. Jewel-blue eyes snap up to yours like you’re divine.

"That's it," Gojo growls, lower lip slack as he watches the sticky, gluey strands of your arousal cling to his thighs, "C-come for me. Come allll over my cock n' be a good girl and fall apart, my girl."

And you do.

Your orgasm hits you like a freight train, sudden and seismic, your whole body spasming, thighs locking around him as you cry out his name. Gojo watches, utterly spellbound, as you unravel, sweat-slick and stunning and trembling on his lap.

"F-fuck, fuck, sweetheart," Gojo gasps, hips stuttering, and soft strands of white hair falling over his eyes, "Holy shit, gonna come, fuck, I'm c-coming, –"

He spills inside you with a ragged moan, all thick, pearly seed and the rhythmic pulse of his cock's release as he thrusts deep, clinging to you like he never wants to let go. The aftershocks roll through both of you, sticky and breathless and all-consuming.

You collapse against his chest, both of you panting like you’ve run a marathon. Gojo's arms wrap around your back immediately, hands splayed across your spine, holding you like something sacred.

"Don't you dare quit on me," Gojo murmurs, voice hoarse and broken, "Swear to god, if you hand in your resignation, I'll follow you into retirement and eat you out every morning like it’s my full-time job. We can get a nice, shiny penthouse and, –"

You snort, still dazed, chin tucked into his shoulder, enveloped by the sheer, searing exertion rolling off him, intertwined with his signature, smoky scent, "You're insane."

"What?" Gojo breathes, that indignant tone creeping back up into his voice, as he trails long fingers up and down your back with slow, reverent strokes, "I'd make a hot trophy wife."

[wonderjanga]

The Government and Marvel

C.C. was in the military. Specifically the Navy. He got discharged when he got a nasty injury to his side. He then later fully became an archeologist. He’d always had a passion for it. Anyways, the government tries to use this to their advantage and pull a fast one on Marvel.

Marvel: *finishes saving a person*

Men in Black Suits: *roll up and serve Marvel with papers*

Marvel: *raises a brow and reads the papers* “Blah blah blah… under government orders… blah blah blah… Clarence Charles Batson… blah blah blah your military service is reactivated… huh?”

Man in Black: “You read that right, Captain Batson. Welcome back to the Navy.”

Marvel: “Aw shoot.”

That’s right, they pulled a Captain Atom and reactivated his military service. Safe to say, this wasn’t good for anyone. Mostly Billy. Cause his dad was dead. And he really didn’t want to have to be a navy man.

Hal: “I just can’t believe it. You’re a military man. Why didn’t you tell us?” *gestures to himself and John* “We could all be military bros together.”

John: *clearly does not want to be here and apart of the convo*

Marvel: “Uh…”

John: “Hal, it’s secret identity for a reason.”

Marvel: “Well, it’s not that. Uhm I’m not C.C.”

Hal: “What?”

Marvel: “I’m not C.C. Batson. I may look like him, but I’m not. The Wizard based my appearance off him.”

Hal: “Okay… Maybe don’t respond then?”

John: “No, don’t do that. Let’s go to Batman. He’ll probably know what to do.”

Batman said he’d take care of it, yet somehow, and you couldn’t ask Billy, he ended up in court. And with literally no money to hire a lawyer, Billy goes to Brian Butler, aka Mister Scarlet. A lawyer who sucked at his job. But hey, it’s the best Billy can get.

Mister Scarlet: “Your honor, my client here has not once claimed to be the man named C.C. Batson. Not only that, but Mr. Batson died in a collapsed tomb almost five years ago.

Government Lawyer: “Objection, your honor. Mr. Batson’s body was never recovered. Captain Marvel at his core a magical hero. Who’s to say he couldn’t have survived?”

Mister Scarlet: “It’s highly unlikely he did. C.C. Batson was described as a man who cared for his friends and family. If he’d survived, why would he abandon them?”

Government Lawyer: “Maybe you don’t truly know someone.”

Judge: “Order! Order!” *bangs gavel a couple times* “There’s no substantial evidence that the hero Captain Marvel is Clarence Charles Batson. This case is closed. Captain Marvel will not be serving in the United States Navy.”

Bonus:

A leaguer found Marvel staring at a weathered photograph of C.C., Marilyn, Mary and himself.

Random Leaguer: “Oh my god…” *jaws dropped* “He flipping lied. He is C.C. Batson!”

[lurkinginnernarrator]

“Shen Qingqiu! What is this nonsense about Qing Jing requisitioning a disguise for one of its members?! You would dare send one of your little disciples trussed up like a pretty young mistress! Even I thought you better than”–

Qi Qingqi’s voice cut off on an extremely strangled note. She and the other Peak Lords all seemed unable to capture an ounce of oxygen.

Cang Qiong’s finest were gathered in a elegant war room, massive tables shoved to the side, covered with maps and intelligence reports: A mind-numbing amount of information scattered across sheaves of paper and neatly written on large boards; they spanned the walls not open to the serene nature of Qing Jing’s outdoors.

The murmuring of focused and purposeful Qing Jing disciples hushed at Qi Qingqi’s outraged exclamation and the sudden appearance of a majority of their shibo.

In the midst of the room, Shen Qingqiu stood, hands frozen in the action of sheathing a dagger to his inner thigh. While normally, such a sight would be arresting enough, it paled in comparison to the vision Qing Jing’s Lord made currently.

His eyes caught wide and surprised were rimmed with coal and rouge, claret lips parted infinitesimally. Gentle strands of hair framed his face and cascaded down his curved back. Hair ornaments tinkled and glittered in the silken black waves.

Delicate, airy robes flirted with graceful wrists, red lacquered nails making a pleasing contrast. Carmine and the tones of blushing rose danced about Shen Qingqiu, gentle fabric draping from his shapely frame; soft skin of his collarbones an–and the rounded mound of his, hi-his bust? Exposed. As was the refined line of sinewy thigh.

S-sshink!

Shen Qingqiu’s hand leaves the handle of the blade, nebulous skirts falling back into place, his pale thighs veiled from sight once more.

“Qi-shimei, Liu-shidi, Zhangmen-shixiong?”– Shen Qingqiu's eyes quickly take in the numerous uninvited visitors, yet his lilting voice doesn’t quicken from its whiplike cadence –”To what do I owe the pleasure of a visit from Yue-shixiong and my shidimen?”

For some unknowable reason, Sect Master Yue and the Bai Zhan War God forsook courtesy for silence.

“Rather, to what does this Master owe my beloved sect siblings appearance,” the polished voice drawled, “ whose purpose is no doubt to meddle in the affairs of a Qing Jing operation? Without, may I add, any proper knowledge of the purpose of this operation to begin with?”

Mu Qingfang, who to this point was standing unobtrusively to the side, stepped forward, courteously greeting the Maste– Lady? Of Qing Jing.

His fellow peak lords prayed blessings, to be gifted such a level headed martial brother!

“These shidi apologize for the discourtesy, Shen-shixiong.” Mu Qingfang’s voice may have hesitated, or stuttered, and almost uttered ‘shijie’ but no one noticed because they were too caught up in their own lawless thoughts.

A Qing Jing disciple helpfully handed Shen Qinqqiu a fan. With a crack! It met his open palm, a gavel descrying doom.

Haloed in light, the Qing Jing Master stood like a wrathful goddess, a holy judge tired of the sullying presence of mortals.

Qing Jing’s Master, when garbed in his usual attire, was a sharp, intimidating figure. Graceful in his execution of masculinity, not unlike a dagger. Moreso, then, donning the mantle of femininity. Some intangible attributes changed, that when masculine, repelled, yet when feminine compelled. Those certain peak lords were unprepared to handle such a thing.

Shen Qingqiu tsked, turning his back he subsequently ignored them after hand-waving a disciple into acting as the hospitality.

The wrong-footed peak lords were bundled off to the side and laden with tea and light victuals, being appeased into silence and unobtrusiveness by snacks. If some of the scholarly disciples secretly thought of it as the kiddie table, that's for them to know, isn’t it?

[syrupsyche]

Instead of working on anything substantial, I've crafted an elaborate family and backstory for modern/teacher AU Enjolras....I bestow him my greatest gift (complicated relationship with his parents ❤️)

Read more about his family below! Warning for long post:

Maximillien Enjolras + Kim Eun-ji (김은지)

= Eun-bin (은빈) Enjolras ((<- this is our Enjolras))

Korean mother, French father. They met in Korea when Enjolras Sr. was sent to work as a military diplomat, and they raised Enjolras there for a few years.

Mother was an activist who fought for women’s and workers’ rights. To this day, Enjolras is still confused how his radical, leftist mother fell in love with a government official. (Spoiler: they fought. A lot.)

During his doljabi ceremony, he grabbed a toy gavel, though really only to smack another baby’s head with it. Still, that excited his parents, who thinks he will be a great judge or police detective upholding justice one day (Spoiler: upholding justice, yes, but very clearly not on the side of the government)

Loved reading and being read to. The earliest memories Enjolras had of his father are of him reading Palmer’s Twelve Who Ruled to him. Not to be beat out, his mother read Hwang et. al.’s Gwangju Uprising to him. This is why Enjolras turned out the way he is.

Family immigrated when Enjolras was 4. Mother wanted to keep Enjolras’ Korean name on his documents, but his father kept trying to dissuade her, saying that it'll just make life harder for Enjolras. Tried to downplay his mother’s arguments that cultural names are important by saying “no one looks at these stupid papers anyways”, to which his mother promptly stole and set fire to half of his father’s papers before he could stop her.

When Enjolras asked how she never got into legal trouble, she snorted and said his father knew damn well he'd never be able to raise him as a single father, and so let the incident slide. Enjolras remains Eun-bin Enjolras on his official documents ‘til this day.

Father was barely home, so Enjolras latched onto his mother. She basically raised him as a mini version of her, and embedded in him much of the values and beliefs he still holds onto. He helped to prep mutual aid packages, seal letters written to their local ministers, take notes for his mother while she was on calls, etc.

However, Enjolras and his mother began to butt heads more often once he got older and gained an actual personality that wasn’t just his mother’s. His views on queer rights, immigration, the incarceration system, etc. deviated from her more conservative stances, and when two very similar and very stubborn people begin to fight…yeah, it caused quite a rift.

Father suddenly died when Enjolras was 17. Too busy with his final year of school and college applications and liaising with external clubs and societies, Enjolras never found the proper time to grieve. ‘Til today, Enjolras can't properly articulate how he feels about his father, and wonders if his father would even like him the way that he is now.

With his mother, their relationship continued to be fairly rocky through university and took quite a dive when he had to spend some time in jail right after university. After that, he moved out and began working as a teacher so that he can have his own finances and space (“his own space” like he isn’t quite literally living with his boss and his boss’ family)

Over time however, he and his mother began mending their relationship, the distance and time apart helping them both. He calls her every week, she learns a lot more about Enjolras’ world through her own research, and they fight a lot less often.

Enjolras finally brings Grantaire over during Seollal and his mother LOVES him; she thinks he will help temper Enjolras (HAH…). Grantaire’s a little afraid because uh oh, now there’s two incredibly intense and strong-willed Enjolrai in his life, and oh no, she’s already roping him into helping with her causes…😨

[scariusaquarius]

rehab. 33.

Avenger! Bucky Barnes x Winter Soldier! Fem! Reader

Summary: While on a mission to find any more possible super soldiers that were a part of the Winter Soldier program, Steve and Bucky make a discovery in an abandoned HYDRA base that was cleared out a few years prior to their mission. They discover the Reader, a long-forgotten soldier that was still asleep within a functioning cryostasis pod; still awaiting orders. While Bucky isn't happy about it, he is put up to the challenge of helping to rehabilitate the soldier in Wakanda where she may be able to become a person again.

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A/n: THEY HUGGED. THEY HUGGED. THIS IS NOT A DRILL. BIG shoutout to my mom for helping me write this chapter. She is an absolute BEAST when it comes to law <3 so please make sure to give most of the thanks to my mother LMAO (and yes, it was slightly humiliating to ask her help with this). apparently the chapter wasn't as long as i thought, but hey, 7.2k words is still hefty Also, if you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee! If you would prefer to read Rehab on Archive, you may do so right HERE!

This is an au where Bucky joined the avengers but still rehabilitated in Wakanda (sometime before Infinity War [canon divergent cause NOPE]). I am NOT fluent in Russian, so I did use google translate cause I couldn't find a good translator that I trusted. If anything is wrong, PLEASE let me know!! Also, I tried to list as many warnings as possible so you know what the story will contain as chapters are posted. Stay safe!

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Genre: Slowburn, Enemies to Lovers/Friends to Lovers, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Humor, Drama, Dark Content Rated: Explicit Warning: Angst, Dark Content: Graphic Depictions of Sexual Assault, Blood and Gore, Mentions of Manipulation, Kidnapping, Canon-Typical Violence, Body Horror, Nonconsensual Body Modification/Scarring, Emotional and Physical Abuse, Mentions of Murder, Mentions of Suicidal Thoughts/Ideation, Graphic Depictions of Human Remains, Mentions of Sexual Coercion/Manipulation, Death, Misuse of Drugs/Forced Drugging, Self-Harm (Graphic Depictions and Mentions), Nightmares

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Author: ScariusAquarius

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rehab masterlist. / rehab masterlist 2. chapter 30 / chapter 31 / chapter 32

Three days later, the courtroom was completely packed.

Cameras clicked, pens scratched against paper, and the tension was thicker than ice as the spectators whispered among themselves. Power, politics, and consequence hung in the air; an evident reminder of what was to come. The eyes of the world were on Jack Rollins as he sat chained and shackled to the defendants table on the far side of the room, his face blank and uncaring.

On the other side of the room sat a team of the Avengers. Steve, wearing a clean navy suit that barely hid his incredible frame. Natasha, who was wearing a sophisticated black and red suit with an annoyed look upon her face and her arms crossed.

Maria Hill was wearing a simple black and white pantsuit, her hair in its signature bun while sitting rigid and unreadable, the recorded confession tucked beneath her casefile carefully. Clint and Wanda were also present, sitting on the end of their table with equal expressions of suspense while simply adorning their uniforms.

Each of them were staring at Director Holloway, seeing right through his tailored suit that he attempted to wear as a suit of armor. Suddenly, the gavel was struck loudly, the sound crashing through the room like an explosion, and everyone immediately quieted down as the judge entered the room.

"All rise."

Everyone stood in unison, and as the bailiff called the court into session, the judge sat down and gathered herself. She was an older woman, a fire within her green eyes and curly greyed hair framing her face as she nodded to everyone within the room.

"Be seated."

The crowd sat down in unison, chairs and benches creaking, and the prosecution stood, the woman's voice clear, sure, and assertive as she looked at the judge.

"Your honor, today we bring forth not just a trial for Jack Rollins, but a call to action as well. This case is deep-rooted not only in HYDRA, but the Central Intelligence Agency. It is not just about one man's heinous desires or one man's betrayal, but the failure of a security agency within our own government, our country, that is supposed to keep our people safe. It is a call to action to figure out how and why and to immediately end this treasonous behavior."

Steve glanced at Director Holloway from the corner of his eye, and he watched as the man seated directly behind the defense's table shifted uncomfortably within his seat as the crowd began to scrutinize him.

Clenching his jaw, Steve glanced back to the judge, who frowned at the woman's opening statement, and at the sound of shuffling beside him, Steve glanced at Maria whose fingers had ghosted over the tape recorder. Then, the prosecutor cleared her throat before regarding the Judge with a firm look.

"I'd like to call a witness to the stand: Agent Maria Hill."

Murmurs echoed through the crowd, and Maria stood with practiced poise. She was comfortable and confident as she walked to the stand; as if she had done this a hundred times before. Once she was sworn in and seated, the questions immediately began.

"Agent Hill, if you would, can you state your name and affiliation for the record?"

Maria nodded, introducing herself.

"Agent Maria Hill, former Deputy Director for SHIELD."

The prosecutor regarded Maria with a steady look, asking her as she stood in front of Maria.

"You were involved with the independent investigation into Jack Rollins' activities following a discovery made by the Avengers, is this correct?"

Maria replied coolly, nodding as she responded.

"Yes, Mrs. McDaniel. I co-led the investigation into the CIA after irregularities surfaced within the agency."

The prosecutor, Mrs. McDaniel, nodded before she began to pace slightly, glancing down at the ground as she held her hands behind her back, looking up at Maria once more after a moment.

"And, pray tell, what did you find with this investigation?"

Maria answered immediately, adjusting in her seat as she stared down Director Holloway through her reply.

“That Jack Rollins was not only a former HYDRA operative who survived the attack at the Triskelion in 2016, but that he continued covert operations within a post-Winter Soldier initiative while under the guise of CIA employment—backed, knowingly, by Director Dean Holloway.”

The courtroom broke into hushed whispers as the shock went through the crowd, and the Judge immediately banged her gavel once in warning.

"Order!!"

The crowed instantly quieted down, and the prosecutor gave a slight nod to the Judge in thanks before McDaniel gestured towards the evidence box where Natasha's recording was sitting.

"We understand that you have brought a recording into evidence today. Can you explain to the court what this recording entails?"

Maria nodded, gesturing with a nod of her head towards the box as she explained.

“Yes. The evidence is direct audio confession from Director Holloway, recorded during a closed-door debriefing. Permission was granted to record for internal review."

Director Holloway instantly became red in the face at Maria's white lie, and the prosecutor asked.

"It's our understanding that Director Holloway admitted to the CIA's involvement with HYDRA, is this correct?"

Maria looked at Holloway again, her voice steeled and firm as she glared at the man as he damn-near pouted right back.

"Yes. Director Holloway admits to protecting Rollins and redirecting the attention of HYDRA-affiliated incidents. He also admits to providing logistical resources that ultimately enabled human experimentation and funding an enhanced super soldier program, namely Project Achilles."

There was a moment of silence before the prosecutor turned to the Judge, stating to her firmly.

“We would like to submit the recording into evidence.”

The judge nodded, her annoyed eyes glancing at the woman as she demanded.

“Play it.”

There was a moment of silence before the sound of static crackled through the speakers within the courtroom, and then Holloway's voice became clear as day as the recording began to play.

'Listen, this wasn't my idea! The CIA has been using HYDRA as a means to an end! We partnered with them back in the 60's...creating our own super soldier program in order to make the best agents to ensure national security!'

A cut, and then the audio continued as Holloway began to panic within his seat, his eyes wide and face paled, sweat running down his temple as his breathing quickened.

'HYDRA has always been using us as we have been using them. Stealing our information, sabotaging our efforts, the whole nine yards!'

Then, Natasha's voice echoed through the room.

'What do you know about Project Achilles?'

'Project Achilles...it was a last resort. We worked together with HYDRA to create the perfect agent...we slaved for years trying to replicate what Howard Stark had created. Robert had always been a brilliant mind, you see? While HYDRA and the CIA had the same idea of creating a perfect weapon, the CIA wanted to...to have the perfect agent that could protect our country! But HYDRA....HYDRA wanted to expand their influence...to control from within! Project Achilles was just a front!'

The silence within the room was loud once the recording ended. Nobody uttered a word, not even a single breath, and the revelation of what the CIA had done echoed through the room. The prosecutor frowned heavily, and she asked with a low voice.

"Earlier, Agent Hill, you mentioned something called Project Achilles. Can you explain to the court was this project was and what it entailed?"

Maria cleared her throat before explaining, folding her hands in front of her and leaning on her arms slightly.

"Project Achilles was a Winter Soldier program that was started in 1975, but is speculated to have begun since the 1940's after Project Rebirth. It was a joint effort between the CIA and HYDRA to create the ideal infiltration and combat soldier through physical and psychological conditioning. However, it was revealed to be a guise for human experimentation."

The prosecutor hummed, raising her brow slightly as she pressed.

"And it's to our understanding that there is a surviving subject to the project, correct?"

Steve became uncomfortable, frowning as the defense suddenly stood and exclaimed.

"Objection, your honor. Relevance?"

The judge gave the man an annoyed look, raising her greyed eyebrow as her unimpressed expression killed the defense attorney's confident expression.

"Counselor, I think you're gonna want to hear this. Overruled."

The prosecutor then continued after subtly rolling her eyes.

"Can you reveal to us who this subject is?"

Maria looked down at her notes for a moment before she glanced back at McDaniel.

"The subject is classified as Winter Soldier #08, Subject number #2018 under HYDRA and Project Achilles documentation. However, her real name is (Y/n) (L/n). She was born in 1952, and she was a scientist for the CIA before her documented death in 1979, in which she was turned into a Winter Soldier for both the CIA and HYDRA."

Maria paused, glancing at Steve, who simply nodded to her encouragingly.

"She is alive and currently under the protection and care of the Avengers."

Suddenly, the court broke out into gasps and uproars, cameras clicking nonstop and reporters immediately shouting questions. Holloway's face became completely pale, eyes wide, and it looked as though he might faint.

Jack, having not moved since the trial began, finally shifted and glanced up at Maria with a cold and calculating expression. The judge smacked her gavel down repeatedly, exclaiming with a hiss.

"Order! I will have order in the court or everyone in the room will be held in contempt of court!"

The murmurs in the room subsided, but just barely. The prosecutor nodded her head towards the Judge before giving Maria questioning glance.

"Is there anything else that you can tell us about Ms. (L/n)?"

Maria hesitated for a moment before she stated.

"(Y/n) was raised entirely within the Project Achilles initiative since her birth. When her mother attempted to escape with her on December 18th, 1979, she was killed. Ultimately, (Y/n) was taken and turned into a Winter Soldier before being subjected to years of trauma-based conditioning, psychological manipulation, brutal combat trainings, sexual assault and rape, among others."

Maria then paused before glancing at Steve.

"Until recently, when she was recovered by Steve Rogers."

The prosecutor nodded, and thanked her before the defense attorney stood. He was slow and methodical, fixing his suit as he walked up to the stand. He was quiet for a moment, glancing at Maria as if he was trying to put her on edge, but Maria simply raised her eyebrow at him, unimpressed.

"Agent Hill, based on your testimony, you are claiming that the CIA was involved with HYDRA knowingly, is that correct?"

Maria raised her brow again, tilting her head inquisitively.

"That's what Director Holloway's confession stated, so yes."

There were a few chuckles through the room that had the Judge's eyes squinting, and Natasha smirked to herself slightly. The attorney's brow furrowed, and he continued.

"You also stated that the discovery of the CIA and HYDRA working together occurred during an investigation. However, this was not led by the federal government or an oversight committee, but by you and the Avengers. Forgive me, Agent Hill, but this might seem as though this is biased-considering this was done by vigilantes with highly personal stakes."

Maria frowned then, responding firmly.

"We followed the evidence. We weren't the ones hiding it."

"Still, you admit that this investigation was done without sanctions, yes?"

Maria remained calm and collected, giving the man a cool stare as she shot back assertively.

"Unofficial does not mean unfounded."

The attorney spun around, wagging his finger in the air as he called with an almost 'a-ha!' tone to his voice.

"Ah, but since the investigation was unregulated, it seems this was manipulated and selective, would you not agree?"

Maria leaned forward a little, shooting back coolly.

"If we were admitting to manipulation, then Director Holloway's voice wouldn't be on that recording admitting to a federal conspiracy."

The defense turned around then, a strange gleam in his eyes as he pointed out as he suddenly moved on.

"Let's talk about the recording then, Agent Hill. You stated that Director Holloway was informed of being recording, correct?"

"Yes. Natasha Romanoff and I made it very clear that he was being recorded."

The attorney then turned, asking with a raised brow.

"And, you have this consent in writing?"

Maria shook her head, responding with a easy look upon her face as she raised her nose slightly at the man.

"No. Verbal consent is common in secure debriefings."

The attorney then raised his eyebrows completely, giving Maria a look as he out-right asked her once again.

"So, you don't have evidence that he explicitly consented?"

The prosecutor stood up again, frowning heavily.

"Objection, your honor-asked and answered."

The attorney seemed to become red in the face when the Judge gave the man a harsh look.

"Sustained. Mr. Leeds, move on."

Mr. Leeds huffed slightly before he moved back from the stand. He then crossed his arms, a hand to his chin as he began to think. Leeds then gestured, almost carelessly as he put on a care-free image.

"No further questions, your honor."

The judge then looked to the prosecutor, asking after giving the man a skeptical look.

"Redirect, Mrs. McDaniel?"

The prosecutor gave Maria a proud nod before stating to the judge.

"No further questions, your honor."

The judge nodded before looking at Maria, stating.

"You are excused, Agent Hill."

Maria gathered her files before standing down, giving a brief look to Director Holloway and Jack before sitting back down. Natasha leaned over and whispered.

"Way to make him tuck his dick."

Maria smirked, shrugging as she eyed Natasha from the side.

"You win some, you lose some."

Natasha smirked widely before glancing back to the prosecutor. McDaniel looked to the Judge then, requesting the woman with a confident look upon her face.

"Your honor, I would like to call my next witness, Captain Steven Rogers, to the stand."

Steve then stood, adjusting the cuffs to his suit before he walked down to the stand with a calm but confident gait to his step. Once he was sworn in and and sat down, McDaniel addressed him.

"Captain Rogers, for the record, please state your name and affiliation."

Steve nodded, introducing himself.

"Steven Grant Rogers. Former Captain of the United States Army, Former Commander for the Howling Commandos, and I now serve as a tactical consultant and field commander with the Avengers Initiative under special pardons granted by the United Nations and the United States Government."

McDaniel nodded before she asked Steve, crossing her arms as she looked at him with a neutral expression.

"Captain Rogers, you were involved with a recovery operation to an abandoned HYDRA facility several months ago, correct?"

Steve nodded, agreeing, and the woman continued.

"Can you tell the court who accompanied you on this mission?"

"Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes and I led the mission together."

The prosecutor nodded, asking him as she leaned against the table.

"Can you walk us through this mission?"

Steve sat up a bit, beginning to explain as his natural militant persona began to shine through.

"We received credible intel of an old HYDRA facility that was stationed in Eastern Europe and off the books. Bucky and I infiltrated the facility and found that it was still operational despite being abandoned. That's when we found (Y/n) (L/n)."

A stir moved through the crowd, but Steve never moved his eyes from McDaniel as he continued to speak.

"She was in cryogenic stasis when she was found. There were logs that she was in and out of suspension for decades, training data, lab files. It was made apparent that there was long-term experimentation and programming."

"Was there any indication of her origins?"

Steve shook his head, explaining.

"Not initially, no. We discovered her origins later when we tracked down (Y/n)'s most-recent Handler, Jack Rollins, and Director Holloway after we discovered she was a scientist for the Directorate of Science and Technology within the CIA."

McDaniel nodded before she asked.

"What was (Y/n)'s role in Project Achilles?"

Steve's face became firm as he answered, his eyes flicking towards Rollins, who was giving the man a quiet sneer that had Steve's blood boiling.

"(Y/n) (L/n) was the successful test subject of the project. From what we have gathered, (Y/n)'s whole life was fabricated by HYDRA and the CIA: from her birth, her schooling, friends, even her job. They were grooming her to become the most-effective covert Winter Soldier."

McDaniel then asked further, tilting her head a little as the room erupted into tiny murmurs and whispers as pens began to furiously scribble into notepads.

"Were you aware of her ties to the CIA at the time?"

"No. We discovered the connection through a recorded memory (Y/n) had thanks to the advanced technology procured by Princess Shuri of Wakanda."

Feeling that this was enough, McDaniel looked at the Judge and nodded her head.

"No further questions, your honor."

Leeds stood up then as the judge addressed him, pursing her lips.

"Counsel, you made begin your cross-examination."

Leeds didn't hesitate, clearing his throat as Steve regarded him with a guarded expression.

"I'd like to clarify a few details to the court. Captain Rogers, you stated that you led this mission with Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes, correct?"

Steve nodded, squinting his eyes slightly as he looked at the man.

"Yes, that is correct."

Leeds then raised his brow, stating.

"And this is the same James Buchanan Barnes that was, for a period of time, known as the Winter Soldier-a HYDRA operative."

McDaniel immediately stated firmly, her stance almost aggressive.

"Objection. Relevance."

The Judge nodded before looking at Leeds with a pointed expression.

"Sustained. Mr. Leeds, rephrase your question or move on."

Leeds hummed, nodding.

"Of course. Captain Rogers, would you agree with Sergeant Barnes has a complex history involving HYDRA?"

Steve became guarded again, his expression steeling as he responded with an assertive tone to his voice as he tried to not become offended by what the defense attorney was beginning to imply.

"I would agree that Bucky was a victim of HYDRA. He, just like (Y/n), was captured, brainwashed, tortured, and used as a weapon by HYDRA. After rehabilitation in Wakanda and with the help of Princess Shuri's technology, he is no longer under their control. In fact, he was fully pardoned and cleared for operations under the Avengers Initiative on the basis that he attends court-mandated therapy sessions overseen by Dr. Christina Raynor."

The defense attorney then asked as he turned to look around the court room, his voice carrying through the room like a cloud of poisonous gas.

"To your knowledge, did Sergeant Barnes have any prior connection to the facility in which (Y/n) (L/n) was found?"

Steve paused for a moment before he swallowed thickly, stating suspiciously.

"No."

"But Sergeant Barnes had previously operated in similar HYDRA facilities, yes?"

Steve then spoke with an offended tone, stating firmly as he sat forward slightly in his seat as his muscles tensed; ready for a fight.

"Yes. Against his will while under the control of Alexander Pierce—and through enforcement by Brock Rumlow and Jack Rollins. That was established in his pardon proceedings."

The room erupted into whispers again, and the attorney frowned heavily. Jack snorted from within his seat, and Steve felt his body tense up even more. The defense attorney then turned again, his gaze steeled as he asked.

“And yet, as we are to understand it: following her recovery, Sergeant Barnes became deeply involved in her rehabilitation. Would you say that’s accurate?”

Steve nodded, his voice clipped as he replied while glancing over at Natasha and Maria, who were glaring at the attorney.

"Yes. He stepped in to help. Since Bucky has experience with her type of trauma, he elected to help her."

The attorney nodded before smiling politely at the Judge.

"No further questions, your honor."

The judge nodded before glancing at McDaniel, who rose from within her seat and raising a hand.

"Captain Rogers, just two questions."

Steve nodded, recomposing himself as he breathed deeply, and McDaniel asked him after giving him a moment.

"To your knowledge, did Sergeant Barnes have any control over his actions while under HYDRA’s influence?"

Steve immediately replied, his voice firm as he shook his head.

"No. He had absolutely no control whatsoever."

McDaniel nodded before asking further.

"To your knowledge, did (Y/n) (L/n) have any control over her actions while under HYDRA's influence?"

"No."

McDaniel glanced at the Judge before she nodded.

"No further questions, your honor."

The weight of Steve's answers filled the room, silence overcoming the crowd as the simple scratching of pens from the reporters filled the atmosphere, and Steve was excused to step down. When he returned to the table, Clint hissed out as the Judge called for a recess.

"That damn attorney is trying to do everything except talk about the actual ordeal at hand."

Steve let out an exasperated noise, not sure how to respond, and McDaniel leaned over to whisper.

"That's kind of his job. Don't worry, we're gonna be okay."

Steve nodded, and McDaniel further elaborated.

"We've got a last-minute witness that we are going to call before Shuri begins her testimony."

Wanda then frowned, finally speaking after simply staying quiet and observing the proceeding the whole time.

"Who are you going to call in?"

McDaniel smirked and winked.

"You'll see. For now, let's just take a breather and get ready for the next part of the proceeding."

Once court was back in session and the prosecution was composed and collected, McDaniel stood up, calling to the judge as the room immediately became quiet except for the cameras clicking once more.

"Your Honor, the government respectfully moves, pursuant to Federal Rule of Criminal Procedure 16(d)(2), to call Anthony Edward Stark as an additional witness for the limited purpose of authenticating the memory‑extraction files obtained from (Y/n) (L/n). We further move for their admission into evidence as Government Exhibit G."

Leeds immediately stood, his expression angry as he raised his voice as the court erupted into gasps. With the exception of McDaniel, the prosecution widened their eyes with shock while Natasha smirked and stifled a laugh. On the other side of the room, the defense immediately paled.

"Objection, Your Honor! Mr. Stark was not disclosed as a witness! We’ve had no opportunity to prepare or challenge his qualifications."

The judge gave Leeds a steely expression, pointing at him.

"Mr. Leeds, I advise you to correct your tone swiftly. Mrs. McDaniel, please explain yourself."

McDaniel nodded before she launched herself straight into the fire, stating confidently as the cameras furiously clicked.

"The files we obtained were de-classified and transferred to our office just before the court proceedings began. We notified the defense as soon as we received them. Mr. Stark's testimony will be confined to digital-forensic authentication to verify the chain of custody, cryptographic signatures, and checksum integrity of the evidence before Princess Shuri of Wakanda gives her testimony."

Leeds was glaring at McDaniel hotly while the judge became thoughtful, and after a moment of thinking, she sighed before stating.

"I’ll allow the motion, over objection, solely on the limited scope proffered by the prosecution. The defense may conduct voir dire immediately upon Mr. Stark’s appearance. You may proceed to call your witness."

McDaniel visibly relaxed with relief before Tony was called into the courtroom. Immediately the cameras began to flash and click, reporters calling out to him, but the judge was swift to yell while slamming her gavel down with a sneer.

"Order! One more time, folks! One more!"

She shook her head when the room quieted, rubbing her forehead in exasperation, and Tony was sworn in before being seated. McDaniel gave him a moment to get situated before she stood and addressed him.

"Mr. Stark, can you please state your name and affiliation for the record?"

Tony smirked slightly, his demeanor calm and relaxed as he stated almost cockily, eyeing the other side of the room with glee when Steve just rolled his eyes and shook his head.

"Anthony Edward Stark, CEO of Stark Industries and inventor of Stark Forensics cryptographic suite. Oh, did I mention I'm an Avenger as well?"

The judge immediately gave Tony a deadpan look, pointing at him.

"Stark, do not test me."

Tony huffed slightly, and McDaniel gave him an annoyed look before asking.

"Mr. Stark, you reviewed the digital files of the extracted memories of (Y/n) (L/n) that Princess Shuri of Wakanda obtained, is this correct?"

"Yes, in fact, I did."

McDaniel nodded before she asked.

"What steps were taken to ensure the absolute authenticity of these memories?"

Tony immediately sat up, a slight grin on his lips as he boasted.

"Listen up, you're gonna love this. First, I confirmed the SHA‑512 hash values matched those generated by Dr. Shuri’s extraction device. Then I ran end‑to‑end checksum comparisons after each data transfer—through Stark Forensics servers, to CIA evidence lockers, and finally to the court’s repository. All checksums were identical. I also verified the embedded Wakandan quantum‑seal certificate using our cross‑jurisdiction key exchange protocol. Pretty amazing, right?"

McDaniel gave Tony a hard look before continuing.

"In your expert opinion, has Exhibit G been tampered with or edited in any way since its initial extraction?"

Tony shook his head.

"Nope. Exhibit G is as authentic as it gets. I mean, they're direct recordings of these memories as they happened in real time."

McDaniel nodded before stating and moving back to sit down at the table.

"No further questions, your honor."

The judge nodded before regarding Leeds with a firm look.

"The defense may proceed to voir dire the witness."

Leeds wasted no time in standing up, giving Tony an annoyed look as he asked from his spot behind the table.

"Mr. Stark, you're not a neuroscientist nor a medical doctor, correct?"

Tony tilted his head, confirming with an intrigued look upon his face.

"Yes, that's right."

Mr. Leeds then smiled slightly, a haughty look upon his face that had Tony becoming annoyed.

"So you cannot guarantee the accuracy of how these memories were extracted-only the authentication that these recorded memories matched the digital files that were attached?"

Tony glanced to the side before looking at the man with an exasperated look.

"Considering my testimony is to ensure the authenticity, that would be correct."

Mr. Leeds gave Tony a dirty look before stating firmly.

"Nothing further, your honor."

"Then, the court will notion that Exhibit G is moved to admission for evidence."

Tony smirked and once he was excused, he practically skipped over to the prosecution table where he plopped down into a seat next to Steve. The Judge instantly looked at Tony, asking him.

"Mr. Stark, what the hell are you doing?"

Tony shrugged, gesturing with his hand wildly.

"Oh, this is a show that I don't want to miss, your honor. You understand, right?"

The judge instantly smacked her elbows onto the table, covering her face as she groaned and threw her hands up into the air.

"Whatever. Not a damn peep, Stark. Can we please move on? Mrs. McDaniel, your final witness if there are no further surprises?"

Steve gave Tony a firm look while Tony smirked at him and winked before looking back at McDaniel as she stood after sighing heavily for a moment as if she was regretting calling Tony as a witness.

"No more surprises, your honor. The prosecution would like to call Princess Shuri of Wakanda to the stand."

The room, although controlled, erupted into more murmurs and whispers as Shuri walked into the room. Her head was held high, a serious look upon her face as she walked in while adorned in her royal garbs. When the woman was sworn in and sat down, McDaniel greeted her.

"Princess Shuri, would you please state your name and affiliation to the court?"

Shuri couldn't help but to smirk slightly.

"Princess Shuri of Wakanda. I am the lead scientist of Wakanda."

McDaniel nodded before asking the woman respectfully, clasping her hands together as she spoke.

"Princess Shuri, you were the creator of the Wakandad technology that was used to isolate, delete, and repair the mind after the effects of mind-control and installed programming, such as the Winter Soldier programming, for Sergeant Barnes and later, (Y/n) (L/n). Moreover, the neural-interface extraction technology used to obtain the memories of (Y/n) (L/n), correct?"

Shuri nodded, elaborating while wincing slightly as she held a hand up.

"Yes, though, if I may correct you? The technology that I created specifically after managing to completely reverse Sergeant Barnes' Winter Soldier programming is an AI that is capable of identifying HYDRA's programming. Not only that, but as well as detect the intensity and depth that it runs. It gives possible solutions and suggestions on what to work on first...and tells me when something activates the program."

The room erupted with hums and small exclamations of awe, and Tony couldn't help but to nod proudly as she spoke. McDaniel's smiled kindly as she asked.

"Can you go into depth about the core principles of this technology that you created?"

Shuri's eyes lit up, and she clasped her hands together as she began to explain.

"Oh, absolutely. Our system uses a vibranium‑infused quantum synchronic scanner to non‑invasively map and record synaptic transmission patterns in the hippocampus and temporal lobe, which is responsible for memory. It captures any memories as they are encoded, then encrypts them with a multi‑factor quantum key, ensuring absolute chain‑of‑custody integrity."

Shuri was smiling, proud of her creation as she spoke, and McDaniel couldn't help but to grin back before asking with a spring within her step and a confident tone blooming within her voice.

"And how exactly do you identify the validity and accuracy of these memories that you are able to extract?"

Shuri launched into the explanation, gesturing all-the-while almost excitedly.

"My program, as well as Mr. Stark's own programs that were used in unison, are put through the AI system that is able to identify the difference between what may be a dream and an actual memory. We look at the synaptic transmissions and cross-reference them with current memories that are located within the hippocampus. After, they are put through a technical audit, overseen by Mr. Stark and his Forensics technology."

McDaniel then moved on, asking.

"Now, did these memories that you have extracted include memories of interactions of Jack Rollins?"

Shuri immediately smirked at Jack, who was glaring at her with a murderous look within his eyes as his jaw clenched.

"Without a doubt."

She then looked at McDaniel, her smile slowly falling as she further explained.

"These memories include many instances of Jack Rollins' supervision of (Y/n) (L/n). They contain traumatic sequences of rape, sexual assault, physical abuse, punitive training sessions, and other abuse tactics that are consistent with HYDRA's Winter Soldier regime."

McDaniel nodded before looking at the Judge with a determined expression.

"We would like to submit these clips to the court. Please let it be known: the following clips are incredibly disturbing, and viewer discretion is advised among the court."

The Judge nodded, her expression serious as she gave the go-ahead. Instantly, a white screen descended as the clips began to play. the first clip was of (Y/n) being held down on the ground, her legs kept spread as Rollins' face smirked menacingly at her.

There was blood covering her thighs and pooled beneath her body. She was trying to struggle, thrashing as he seemed to be shoving an unknown object inside of her. Her vagina was blurred, thankfully, but it was no secret what was happening within the clip.

The courtroom erupted into horrified gasps and gags, and Tony had to look away, becoming stone-cold as he listened to the room react. Beside him, Steve was frozen, his eyes unable to leave the screen from the shock and horror. Natasha and Maria were eerily quiet, and Clint made a noise of disgust. Wanda closed her eyes and covered her mouth, becoming emotional and beginning to cry.

The next clip was of (Y/n) standing in front of Rollins, his face angry as he held a baton within his hand, and though he was speaking, there was no audio. The next second, he violently brought the baton down, and (Y/n) was knocked to the ground, blood spitting from out of her mouth. She shakily sat up, her hands trembling as she unbuckled Rollins' belt and unzipped his pants. The clip ended abruptly, and the next one began almost immediately.

The next one was worse: Rollins was standing above her with a knife, sawing into her skin with a maniacal look on his face as a doctor stood by in the background. His face was covered in her blood, parts of her skin hanging by mere threads and others freshly sewed back. Although her vision blurred for a moment, there was a moment where her head fell to the side, and the court was able to clearly see her face.

(Y/n)'s lower-half of her face was completely covered in blood and open wounds, her eyes bloodshot and one completely red from a busted blood vessel in her eye. She was crying, wailing although no sound came out, all the while Rollins began to rape her, and the clip was turned off.

Tony had to close his eyes and begin breathing as deeply as he could. Steve was angry, his body trembling and the table beginning to break beneath his grip. Natasha stared with a stone-cold face as she watched, and Maria had to look away in disgust. Clint was slack-jawed, his eyes glazed over from the fury that had went through him, and Wanda continued to cry silently as she kept her face covered.

Steve slowly looked over at Rollins, and the only thing that stopped him from lunging at the man was Tony's harsh grip on his arm.

The man was smiling at him. Not a single ounce of remorse or guilt upon his face. Tony was giving Steve a harsh look, stating.

"He's done. He's done for, Cap."

There were angry tears in Steve's eyes, and the man almost felt ashamed for losing his cool for a moment. After a few more clips, the white screen was retracted, and the court was completely quiet. No cameras clicked, no pens scribbled. It was deathly still and quiet. Nobody dared to even breathe. Finally, McDaniel stated quietly.

"No further questions."

The Judge was quiet, her eyes glaring slightly at Rollins before she looked at Leeds.

"The court recognizes that these recordings are authenticated direct memory extractions, reviewed by two expert witnesses and voluntarily submitted. They will stand as evidence. Counselor, proceed carefully."

Mr. Leeds swallowed thickly, his gaze accusatory towards Rollins before he simply muttered, defeated and slumped within his seat.

"No questions, your honor."

The judge was quiet for a moment, quietly scrutinizing the man before stating.

"Counsel, having heard all the testimony and reviewed the admitted evidence, the court will now hear closing arguments. The government may proceed."

McDaniel then stood, her gait filled with solemn but determined fire as she began to address the jury.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, you've heard testimony from decorated agents, government officials, and technological experts. You've seen firsthand accounts authenticated by the most advanced technology known to man—memories, extracted directly from the mind of a survivor. And in those memories, you saw Jack Rollins.”

She began to pace in front of the jury, who was giving her their undivided attention as she continued to speak.

“You saw him inflict cruelty. You saw him carry out the most heinous torture, discipline, and manipulation. You've heard a recorded confession from the Director of the CIA, Dean Holloway, admitting to the CIA's involvement with Jack Rollins and HYDRA under the guise of national interest; effectively enabling these crimes.”

McDaniel then shook her head, her voice raising just the slightest as she raised her hand.

"This is not just about a shadow that is hidden within history. This is about men in power who made repeated decisions that cost lives; who destroyed a person's humanity and called it patriotism. Who destroyed a man who was once a war hero. And who continued these operations years after HYDRA was thought to be gone."

McDaniel then turned to look at Jack Rollins and Dean Holloway for a moment before spinning back to the jury.

“Jack Rollins committed the most atrocious crimes known to man, and Dean Holloway enabled them. And now, you hold the power to deliver justice—to say, unequivocally, that what happened was not just wrong—it was criminal. The government asks you to return a verdict of guilty on all counts for all parties involved.”

McDaniel regarded Leeds with a haughty expression, the man stewing within his seat, and the second that McDaniel sat down, Leeds stood up and wiped the sweat from his brow. He walked to stand in front of the jury, who all seemed almost disinterested in what the man had to say.

“You’ve just heard a powerful argument. You’ve seen painful images. You’ve listened to compelling witnesses. And I don’t doubt for a second that you are angry. That you want someone to blame, but in a court of law, emotion and sympathy is not enough. In our government, we deal in facts, admissible evidence, and the burden of proof."

He cleared his throat before he began to speak, becoming a bit frazzled as he watched one of the reporters roll their eyes at him.

"M...My client, Mr. Rollins, has been accused of crimes based on memories extracted by experimental technology. Technology that—even if groundbreaking—still raises concerns about accuracy, interpretation, and consent. Furthermore, Director Holloway’s statements were recorded under questionable circumstances—without legal counsel, and without assurance that what he said wasn’t coerced or misunderstood.”

The defense attorney gestured widely with his hands, pleading.

“I ask you not to ignore the pain you've seen—but to remember your oath. That you would base your decision not on outrage, but on evidence beyond a reasonable doubt. And when you do that, you will see that this case, no matter how sensational, is riddled with shadows. Shadows that cast doubt—and doubt, ladies and gentlemen, demands acquittal.”

Once Leeds sat down, dabbing more sweat from his brow, the Judge then instructed the jury.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, you will now receive instructions on the law before retiring to deliberate."

The judge then began to give her instructions, and once the court was called into a recess for the jury to deliberate and she left the room, Mr. Leeds began to quietly berate Rollins, who didn't seem to be listening to a single word that he was saying.

In contrast, the prosecution was deathly quiet, nobody daring to utter a single word, save for Clint, who was comforting Wanda carefully and gently. Tony simply muttered to Steve after a moment.

"I told you. I told you they were fucking horrible."

Steve's jaw clenched as he eyed Tony, and Tony glanced at Steve. Steve was almost surprised at Tony's teary eyes, and Steve looked away. He couldn't even speak, unable to properly word his thoughts, and Tony took a deep breath.

"I say after this, we all get drunk and take (Y/n) on a vacation."

"Wakanda is her vacation, Tony."

Natasha stated numbly, and Tony rolled his eyes. When the Judge entered the room again, the atmosphere immediately changed. Instantly, everyone shifted within their seats, and hearts began to race in anticipation.

"Will the jury foreperson please rise?"

A woman stood then, seeming to be in her 50's and a strange look upon her face as she looked at the judge. She was holding onto a small piece of paper, her lips pursed as she glanced around the room, looking almost nervous as she began to read from the paper.

"In the matter of the United States versus Jack Rollins, on the counts of all charges brought against Jack Rollins—we find the defendant: guilty."

A murmur moved through the crowd, and Steve and Tony both took a relieved breath. Natasha and Maria subtly fist-bumped, and Clint, Wanda, and Shuri remained quiet and stoic. The woman then took another breath, reading from her paper once more.

"In the matter of the United States versus Director Dean Holloway—on the charge of obstruction of justice, conspiracy, and aiding and abetting war crimes—we find the defendant: guilty on all counts.”

The judge nodded and the crowd began to buzz with anticipation as the woman spoke.

"Thank you, members of the jury. Your service in this difficult, historic, and timeless case is noted and praised by this court and your country. Sentencing will be scheduled for a future date. Court is adjourned."

Her gavel smacked down with finality, and the courtroom immediately went wild. Cameras began to flash, reporters shooting up from their seats as they tried to get both the prosecution and the defense to answer their questions. However, security was adamant about keeping a path cleared for the parties to exit the courthouse.

Once everyone was outside, it became worse. Steve, Tony, Natasha, Clint, Wanda, and Shuri were all completely surrounded by reporters, spectators, and protesters yelling and screaming. Steve was immediately overwhelmed, and Tony took off his sunglasses as a reporter shoved a microphone in his face.

"Mr. Stark! Given how long she was with HYDRA, do you think (Y/n) (L/n) is even capable of being a real victim—or is she just another trained killer playing the sympathy card?"

Tony blinked as the crowd suddenly became for half of a beat; tension immediately rolling through the air, and Tony's jaw clenched. He leaned forward into the mic before stating firmly.

"You know what I think?"

A beat, and then.

"Fuck this guy."

Tony immediately shoved the reporters out of the way, and the rest of the prosecution followed. Once everyone climbed into Tony's limo and the vehicle drove away, everyone finally took a breath and relaxed. Steve's head fell back against the seat, and Clint stated softly.

"We did it, guys. At least we did it."

Natasha sighed before stating, shaking her head as she pointed out.

"The fight isn't over yet. HYDRA is still out there, and now that they know that the world knows...finding them is about to be a lot harder. Ten bucks that they are already trying to clear out."

Shuri hummed, her fingers drumming against her thigh as she replied with a firm gaze.

"Not if we can help it. We will root out every HYDRA agent until there are none left to poison this world with their disgusting presence. I can assure you of that. You have Wakanda's full support...unless my brother says no."

A small chuckle went through the group, and Tony stayed staring out the window with an angry expression on his face. Steve glanced over at Tony, asking carefully.

"Are you alright?"

"Besides never being able to unsee those clips? I'm just peachy, Cap, thanks for asking."

Steve felt almost bad for asking, and after a moment, he was surprised by Tony's voice asking him softly.

"And you?"

Steve pressed his lips into a firm line, closing his eyes and becoming instantly haunted by the images of the clips. Shooting his eyes open, Steve just sighed.

"Angry."

Tony nodded before he simply stated as the world began to feel a lot heavier.

"Good. Remember that for later."

Steve wasn't exactly sure what Tony meant, but Steve decided not to dwell on it. Instead, he watched the world go by as he silently wondered if Bucky had been watching the whole time.

-

STORY NOTES: please don't make me summarize this a;lskdjf;alsj THE MANS IS GUILTY

TRANSLATIONS:

None, thank god

TAGLIST: @buckvoidsyy @chonkybonky @seemsxsketchy @tilldeathripsusapart @vicmc624 @mgchaser @aash3 @samfunko @seventeen-x @valckenaux @babybeeelle @sc4rrc @cjand10 @bane-y-zane @notsostrangerthing @thenameswinter99 @bumblebeebutter @torntaltos

[leonkennedybreedingkink]

B-E-H-A-V-E, ARREST US! (ITALIAN MOBSTER, LOOKING SO PRECIOUS!)

leon kennedy x fem attorney reader

warnings: unwanted advances, car crash, ummm he breaks into your house… slight misogyny in his internal monologue? ooc leon too. Obsessive behavior if you squint. copious amounts of pet names because he’s on some shit. more unreliable narration. title taken from kill v maim by grimes

an: this was inspired by the courtroom scene in the dark knight sorry hope you enjoy :)

Leon Kennedy looked like he was having the time of his life as he was yanked out of the prison’s bus, smiling smugly as he was led along to the courthouse. Some cops had to push the press out of the way as they tried to shout questions at him, shouting at the press to get back and clear the way. You wouldn’t think a criminal trial would get such a big production, and yet. The head of the Salazar crime family gets caught on RICO charges and the press goes insane.

He doesn’t get a glance at you as he’s ushered in for the first day of cross-examinations, chains around his wrists and ankles jangling.

The presiding judge arrives and all stand before sitting. The charges are read—hundreds of counts of extortion, racketeering, witness intimidation, obstruction of justice, et cetera. Then, he’s brought up to the witness stand. Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God, yadda, yadda. “I do.” He wears that smug smile like the Armani suit he chose today, sitting with a bang of the gavel.

And aren’t you just so cute, in your little skirt suit and button-up shirt. A cutie like you shouldn’t be in a courtroom, you should be in his bed. What a cute little Assistant District Attorney, he should’ve looked you up when he had the time, he didn’t know the DA’s office hired such adorable looking little things.

You look visibly uncertain when you catch him eyeing you up and down, looking back at the big bad DA—Redfield or something—who sits at the table looking extremely unamused. “Please state your full name for the record.” You tell him, thumbing through the little manila folder you’ve got in your hands, heels clicking on the floor.

He leans forward into the microphone with a small smirk. “Leon Scott Kennedy.” He’s not listening to a word you’re saying as you pace in front of him, only clueing in when you look at him expectantly, eyes bright behind your glasses. “Can you repeat the question?”

You look so cute when you frown in irritation, he might just eat you up. “I asked if you can explain the thousand percent exponential increase in your earnings in just one month.” You fiddle with the papers, eyes flicking off to the side. “Exhibit ‘C’ in front of you.”

“Ah.” He looks down and spots the cute little graph, wondering if you made it. “My investments turned out swimmingly.”

“Your investments.” You repeat flatly. Cute little habit you have of parroting him. “Who did you invest with?”

“Oh,” He waves a hand blithely, “a new company, you wouldn’t know them and don’t need to worry your pretty head about it.”

You freeze, not sure what to do as he flirts with you so openly.

The judge gives him an irritated look and says, “I’ll remind the defendant to remain civil.”

Leon shrugs it off, he’s made of iron, he can handle this little bit of pressure, it’s good for him anyway. And he loves a challenge.

You clear your throat a little nervously, leafing through the notes you have. Aw, your little hands are shaking minutely, he bets if he held them, they’d shake more. “This company has no record of existing before those investments.”

Leon blinks. See? The pressure’s good for him. He gives you a slight smile as he recalibrates, linking his hands together in his lap. “Is that so? Then where would it come from?”

“Why don’t you tell the court?” Comes out a little short and his lawyers object on the grounds of it being combative. He watches you count to ten before you calm down enough to nod to the judge when he tells you to tread carefully. “I’ll rephrase: I’m hoping you can tell us.”

Leon leans so close to the microphone that his lips nearly touch it. “I think you mean, you’re hoping I can tell you.”

Your jaw tenses, and that can’t be good for your teeth, a pretty thing like you shouldn’t be so stressed. Unexpectedly, you go with it, shrugging blithely before you say, “Sure.” Your move, is what you really mean.

He grins widely, amused and delighted all at once. “I had my friends do a little digging for me to find a suitable investor for our… money.”

“Uh-huh.” You shift a little, your confidence coming back. “What made you trust this investor?”

He comes to a pause—he hadn’t been expecting that. “What do you mean, counselor?”

You grin just this side of smugly at getting him slightly off kilter. “This investor has no prior portfolio of successes or failures. How could you trust them if you have no background?”

Leon’s chains jingle as he spreads his palms with a shrug. “Investing is risky. And everyone has to start from somewhere, Tesla wasn’t built in a day.”

The jury and gallery murmur before the judge bangs his gavel for silence.

He watches your face harden in annoyance. “A bit of an unnecessary risk, no?”

“Why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free?” He throws out to see you confused, your head cocking at him as your brows furrow. You stare at him for a good few minutes and he can’t resist leaning in with a slight smirk and asking, “Cat got your tongue?”

The judge reminds him again to behave, if he does that again, he’ll be taken to jail in contempt of court. Oh, but that would be fun, wouldn’t it? It’d be an inconvenience for him, but to see the little look on your face as he’s walked away… he’ll keep that in mind.

You clear your throat and he watches you swallow, throat bobbing. “What made you choose to throw your lot in with a company that didn’t exist before the very month before your earnings increased?” He can practically see you telling him to dig a hole, any hole.

Leon shrugs. “Gut feeling. And my friends had given me good things from them.”

“How come their investments never showed up in their portfolio?” He watches you try to contain your glee. You’re too cute when you’re trying not to look too happy and remain professional, he bets if you won—which you won’t, he’s made sure of that—you’d be skipping down the courthouse steps.

Leon pauses for a long while, eyeing you as he considers all the possible answers—I never asked, why don’t you ask them, it was under the table—before he settles on, “My mistake, counselor, I’ll clarify: I’d meant that my friends had heard good things about them through the grapevine.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.” You say, eyes narrowing slightly. “I’ll repeat myself: that company—CAPCOM Industries—doesn’t have a prior portfolio of investments, good or bad. How could they have heard good things if there’s no previous work, if they don’t even exist before the month when your earnings went up?”

The defense objects on the basis of badgering, which the judge overrules.

Damn, you’re good, and foxy in all the ways that can be meant. Which leaves him with one option. He smirks and leans into the microphone, maintaining eye contact for a stilted amount of time. Eventually, he says, “I plead the fifth.”

Oh, beautiful. You couldn’t have given him a better reaction. Your jaw drops open and you stare at him for a long while as he sits back against the witness chair.

He’s cross-examined for a few hours before you’re all adjourned for a two hour long recess.

Cross examinations go on for five more days before closing statements come, this trial having gone on for a month at this time.

Defense goes first, blathering mindlessly about how Leon has a right to spend and earn his money how he chooses, on and on. He tunes it out, more interested in watching you pull your silly looking peacoat off and hang it over the back of the chair, dressed in a cute little button up and slacks set, your hair gathered at the back of your head. How cute, he bets they’d look cuter on his floor. Corny, but he had to use it.

Oh, the DA’s making you give the closing statement. That’s just cruel, you’re just a little creature and should be protected. To him, it just looks like a little girl trying to walk in daddy’s shoes.

You get up and shift around the edge of the prosecution’s table, your notes in hand. Wow, you really fill out those black slacks so well, he’ll have to thank whatever God is out there for building you like that.

He tunes in when you say: “You all have had the chance to hear many things over these past few weeks.” Your hands shake slightly, cue cards creasing at the corners. “That Leon Kennedy is being wrongfully prosecuted, that we have no right to poke into a man’s business and how he makes his money.”

He watches you pace in front of the jury, loafers whispering on the floor. That’s a shame, he likes you in heels, really makes your legs look long.

“You also have heard testimonies about how police have been hindered from doing their very jobs for fear of one bogeyman. You’ve heard testimonies of people he’s sold drugs to in front of NA meetings. On and on.” He watches you turn around and meet his eyes, tongue darting over your lower lip. He swallows when he sees that, stomach flipping. That’s embarrassing, he’s a grown man, he doesn’t get butterflies.

“When you take all that away though, all that remains is one man, this man.” You turn back around and point at him behind you. “No man is above the law, especially not one who terrorizes our city. We must take it back from him. Thank you, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, for your time.”

The judge waves a hand and the bailiff takes Leon out of the courtroom to wait out the verdict in his jail cell. He maintains eye contact with you the entire time he’s dragged out of the courtroom, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.

The next day, all parties are brought to court to hear that the jury is deliberating. The next day, the same. The day after that and the day after that are the same. The entire next week, the jury is still sequestered and deliberating.

Until you wake up one day, a pit in your stomach as you dress for court and wade through the paparazzi and news outlets on your way into the courthouse.

All rise as the judge presiding enters, all remaining standing when the jury spokesperson finally answers the judge. “We’re deadlocked, your honor.” She says solemnly, “We’ve been deadlocked for weeks, nobody will budge.”

Your stomach drops all the way down to mingle with your intestines, your knuckles blanching at your side.

The judge sighs and looks down. “Then I’ve no choice but to declare the state of New York versus Leon S. Kennedy a mistrial. Thank you, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, for your time. Case dismissed.” He bangs the gavel with a sense of finality.

Poor baby, you look a little like you have to sit down when you hear that. Leon shakes the hands of his lawyers, smiling like the cat that got the canary before he looks over at you.

Even worse, you can’t retry him with these charges because it’d qualify as double jeopardy. The bailiff contemptuously uncuffs him and he rubs his wrists, watching you stand there with your mouth agape, looking positively destroyed at not being able to put him behind bars. He bets you look just a little like that after being fucked silly.

Jeez, little thing, you don’t need to look so damn sad about it, he’s sure he’ll slip up at some point and you can have your fun with trying to prosecute him and igniting your little cat-and-mouse-game.

He makes a point of waggling his fingers at you as he walks by. “Don’t be so sad, cupcake.” Leon says blithely, sauntering out of the courtroom like he owns the damn place. “Better luck next time.” He calls out, a smug laugh echoing off the marble as he walks away, the doors shutting behind him firmly.

You’re at the DA’s office for the rest of the day, trying to get the files in order for the archives because a lawyer’s office is a little like a church—you never get rid of anything that may be important, no matter how old it may be.

You’re in there for a long while before you go out to the parking garage around two thirty in the afternoon, your car flanked with paps. It takes a while until they let you go, having to lay on the horn until they scramble out of the way and you’re free to go. You’re most of the way home when you notice a black SUV following you. Your hands flex on the wheel as you speed up just a little, taking a right turn to test your suspicions.

They follow.

Could be just a fluke. You take another right turn.

They follow again.

Could be another fluke and really awkward, anybody ever tell you that you’re paranoid? You take a third, then fourth right turn, the SUV following you the entire time.

Okay, so you’re not paranoid, and you’re being followed. You take every almost legal action you can, too caught up in the SUV behind you to note the SUV aiming right for you on your left.

The cars collide and your air bags go off, knocking you unconscious and giving you a bloody nose. Thank God you’re not awake, otherwise, you’d notice that the driver gets out of the car to see how you’re faring before speeding off.

You come to when the paramedics are there and trying to stabilize you, your neck in that stupid looking brace as they ask you questions you already know the answer to, hauling your sorry ass into the ambulance after gathering your bag and hightailing it to the nearest hospital.

You’re given two of morphine as you’re kept alive long enough for them to cart you to the hospital. You’re in and out of it as the EMTs give the hospital the details of you being t-boned, loss of consciousness at the scene, pupils equal and active, and so on and so forth. The doctor asks for your name and you give it a little sluggishly, but correctly. They work on you in a trauma room, x-raying and suturing up the cuts on your face, feeling for any fractures on your nose and eyes and any abdominal discomfort.

When they deem you lucky you weren’t hurt further, you ask if they can take off that ridiculous neck brace—you’ve gotta fight them for it, but they acquiesce because you’re so good at arguing your case. When you’re taken to a hospital room to wait for the cops, you call your secretary and update her on the situation.

Are you okay? No. You rather liked that stupid car.

No, like, physically. Yeah, you somehow only got away with a couple cuts, bruises, a mild concussion, et cetera.

Are you safe? Probably.

Do you need anything? A change of clothes and something greasy in the morning, they want to keep you overnight for monitoring.

I’ll get some flowers for you! And a card! No thanks, that’s not necessary, the pollen makes your ears itch.

The police eventually make their way up and you give your statement, more and more irritated when they see it fit to try and interrogate you when you’re not under arrest, but that’s cops for you.

You have a fitful sleep because those lights are always on and your bedroom is usually kept dark, you like honoring your circadian rhythm. Which is why you’re awake at seven when you receive a call from an unknown number.

“This is the assistant district attorney speaking.” Your voice is a little scratchy from lack of water, you have to turn and clear your throat.

He chuckles on the other end of the line, the sound making you freeze. “Did I interrupt your beauty sleep, counselor?”

You straighten up. “How did you get this number?”

“I have my ways.” Leon replies casually, “How are you feeling?”

“Shitty.” Mild concussion, one major cut and two minor cuts on your face, a minorly broken nose and bruised ribs and sternum, but you’re fine.

He laughs on the other end of the line, warm and… affectionate? “Such language so early in the morning.” He tuts, his sheets rustling as he shifts.

You grind your teeth and count to five before you respond, holding your phone so tight you think you hear the case creak. “You hit me with a car.”

He scoffs, shifting his grip on his phone. “I certainly did not.”

“Then you had your underlings do it.”

He laughs again and you almost want to throw your phone. “You’re sharp.” Indirect confirmation, this entire conversation is inadmissible in court. Motherfucker. “I like you, you know.”

You pause, anger momentarily dissipating. “What?”

“I like you.” You can damn near hear his smile.

You pause for long enough that he wonders if the line went dead. When he checks, his phone still has that timer counting how long you two have been on the phone: edging onto five minutes. He waits for a little longer, eventually starting to feel uncertain when you repeat, “You like me.”

He laughs, just slightly tinged with relief. “Yeah. So? Is that so hard to believe?”

Coming from the man who arranged for you to be in a car accident? Yes, absolutely. “Yes.” You say shortly, eyes wandering around your hospital room. “Absolutely.”

He tuts on the other end of the line, more rustling coming through as he shifts and gets out of bed. You never would’ve taken him for an early riser, you thought he was the sort of guy to laze around until the last possible moment—but then again, you’ve known a lot of drug dealers in your time and not all of them were lazy. Dealing drugs, apparently, requires a lot of hard work, regardless of whether it’s street operations or organized crime like Leon fucking Kennedy makes most of his money. “That’s a shame, I was hoping I could take you out.”

And apparently, he has a fondness for double entendres, you just know he’s holding back a cackle. But even onions have layers.

“Not happening.” You feel immensely satisfied when he pauses this time, holding back a smirk of your own.

“May I ask why not?” He asks eventually, voice carefully level. You get the feeling that he’s never been rejected before.

You pause in turn this time, befuddled as to why he’s even asking why not. There’s many things: he’s evil, you’re on opposite sides of the law, you don’t even like him one bit, it’s a conflict of interest—“You know why.”

“No,” He says firmly, surprising you. Okay, maybe you can see why he became the Don. “I want to hear it in your own words. Why not?”

It’s your turn to pause, staring at your phone as the seconds tick by. “You’re a mob boss. Why would I want to go out with you?”

“Why don’t you?” He presses, voice hardening before he reminds himself that he catches more honeys with fly, rather than vinegar, or whatever the stupid saying is.

You hang up on him and put your phone on do not disturb when he calls you back. You’ve got a caffeine headache and a concussion headache and it’s too fucking early to deal with this bullshit. Your secretary finally gets over here around eight thirty with a change of clothes hanging from her arm and a bag of appropriately greasy food and a coffee for you. She pauses in the doorway when she sees you, brows furrowing in concern. “Jesus. You look like you got hit by a car.”

You frown at her, setting the clothes at your feet when she comes closer, passing you everything you asked for. Food gets eaten and burnt coffee gets drank first, grimacing with every sip. You can’t change yet, still hooked up to all these monitors. A doctor comes in at nine-oh-five sharp, flipping through your chart before he asks the perfunctory questions and declares you safe to go home—gotta love the American medical system. A nurse unhooks you from the monitors and gently drags the IV needle out of your vein, giving you privacy to change.

You’re summarily sent home with a concussion care sheet and strict orders not to return to work for two weeks. You’ll stay home for a week at absolute maximum, but it’s the thought that counts. You and your secretary take her car to your apartment because yours is totaled and you argue with your insurance most of the way there. When you get out, she stops you with a gentle grab of your wrist. “Are you sure you don’t want me to come up with you?” She asks, teeth digging into her lower lip.

“I’m a big girl.” You snort, gently removing your wrist from her hold. “You left the key in the right place, right?”

“Yeah…” She says reluctantly, left leg bouncing.

“Okay, then. See you in a week.” You get out of the car the rest of the way and she calls back, “Two weeks!” Before speeding off. You make your way to the apartment building—one of the most secure in the city—and buzz yourself in, walking through the lobby and garnering a few stares as you walk over to the elevator and press the button for your floor. You lean against the wall for support, pressing a hand to your aching head.

You sigh once you’re inside your penthouse, toeing off your shoes and hanging your bag on a hook by the door, trudging to your room and collapsing on your bed. It takes you three days of medical leave for you to become officially restless, you hold out for the next four days before you come in on Monday to your desk covered in Get well soon! Bouquets. You pause and stare at it, then note a giant teddy bear holding a heart that reads: You’re bear-y cute!

No note for the flowers or teddy bear, but you know who they came from.

You have a normal month of work, discarding the bouquets Leon sends every damn day. Just how much money is he throwing away trying to woo you? Eh, just a penny in the bucket; when you were gathering evidence for that RICO case against him, you saw how much he made in a month, easily your yearly salary.

You come home from a long day—your office is litigating another for a miscarriage of justice, you haven’t come home in days—sighing as you hang your coat and bag up, freezing when you hear a gun clicking. “A little cliche, isn’t it?” You move a little slower as you toe off your shoes, kicking them over by the shoe rack. “The click of a gun as a greeting, I mean.”

Leon laughs, then puts the safety back on the gun, setting it on your coffee table. “Why not have a little theatre in your life?” He eyes you as you turn on the lights, revealing you, consummate professional in your adorable looking slacks and button-up shirt. “Anybody ever tell you that you fill those out really nicely?” He says, eyes on your thighs and ass as you walk over to the kitchen.

You grunt in disgust, pulling your hair down from where it was gathered at the top of your head. “How did you get in?” You ask as you fill up a glass with tap water. Really, you’d rather go for a mixed drink or some wine, but you don’t trust him enough to drink in front of him. This is really just the horseshit icing on the bullshit cake, to be honest.

“Pfft.” Leon waves a hand. “Key on top of the door. You should’ve moved it after your assistant came and got you clothes the day you got out of the hospital.” He shifts, long legs crossing. “How are you feeling, by the way?”

“Better.” You say shortly, keeping space and the counter between you two. “It’s amazing that I wasn’t more hurt.” You walked around with a butterfly bruise across your nose for a while and the DA had to keep you out of court until it cleared up, but you’re fine.

He smirks, pink mouth pulling up and to the side. “Yes, quite a miraculous thing.” He sighs and gets up, buttoning his suit. Is that what he thinks real people dress like? Jesus.

“I find that I rather like you alive, not dead.” He says conversationally, looking over at you and really taking the chance to drink you in, brows twitching together when he sees how tired you look.

That’s not how you’re supposed to look, you’re supposed to look bright-eyed and bushy-tailed and all excited. “You look tired, bunny.” He tells you, leaning against the table.

You stare at him for a while, head cocked to the side. “Work.”

“Ah.” He kisses his teeth, eyeing you up and down shamelessly. “There are easier ways to make money, sweetheart.”

“I love my job.”

He laughs, soft and deep. You shift a little from foot to foot, nails tapping against the counter.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing, babydoll.” He waves a hand and watches you bristle, shoulders stiffening and drawing up. “You can’t offer a guest a drink? I’m parched.”

You frown at him. “Guests are invited in. You broke in.”

He leans over and swipes the half full cup from you and turns it so his mouth can touch the imprint of lipstick you left behind. “No sign of forced entry.”

You’re a little too shocked to say or do anything. “Because you used the key.” You watch his throat bob with a swallow.

“Tomato, tomato.” He sets the cup down and gives you a debonair smile. “Anyway, counselor, I thought it’d been a while since we talked.”

You stare at him for a while. “And you can’t get yourself arrested instead?”

He laughs a little louder and your hands fist on the countertop. He strolls to your door and opens it up. “Where’s the fun in that? Get some sleep, counselor.” He calls out, door shutting behind him and rattling the pictures on the walls.

You wouldn’t think it after seeing him on the witness stand, but he’s got a dramatic streak the size of you.

Leon smirks when he sees you walk over to the holding cells, an unexpectedly stern look on your face. “We’ve got to stop meeting like this, cutie.” He drawls, head cocking as he looks you up and down, eyebrows raising.

“So you took my advice about getting yourself arrested.” You fold your arms and lean against the wall.

He gives a dashing—and a little smug—smile, eyes flicking up from where they ogle your chest. “And you can prosecute me again, I love watching you work.” He stands up from the bench, wandering over to the bars. He leans forward, hands wrapping around two as his head cocks, still grinning like a fat cat who got the canary.

You don’t move from where you’re leaned against the wall. “You’d be wasting the court’s time over a speeding ticket. The DA doesn’t take those cases.”

“Ah, not a speeding ticket, beautiful.” He uses pet names so easily. He leans in as if to tell a secret—you lean in too, straightening up slightly. “What if I’d said I turned myself in?”

Your stomach drops. “I’d say that you’re a liar.”

“Ouch, counselor.” His smirk remains on his face. “I’m many things, including a bogeyman, but I don’t lie.”

Your face warms. He really remembers your closing statement? You’ve had two cases every month since then. “Legally, financial fraud counts as lying. False advertisement, for another.”

He scoffs, blue eyes rolling before he shakes his head at you. “Where’s your sense of fun?”

You were just joking, but telling him that takes all the fun out of it. “Why turn yourself in?”

“Easy, counselor.” His—clean, warm, smooth—hands flex around the bars. “I’m not on the stand yet.”

“I’m not examining you.”

His dimples show, eyebrows jumping up as he stares at you like you put the stars in the sky. “Touché.”

You can’t prosecute him anyway because of a legal hiccup; somehow, you think he meant for that to happen, to walk into the police station, knowingly not be read his rights and to confess anyway, thus violating his third or fourth amendment, that parts not your deal, it’s the stupid cowboy cop’s fault.

You’re there, trying to do a good impression of disappointment as the judge informs everyone that the case is dropped, yet again putting these charges—and all he admitted to—inadmissible under, yet again, double jeopardy.

Leon, for his part, looks pleasantly surprised, then a little quizzical as his cuffs are unlocked and he’s set free. He catches you by the arm after lurking by the door for you to come out, dragging you to an alcove. “I was read my rights.” He tells you, blond brows furrowed as he boxes you in.

“Were you?” You ask innocently, head cocking like a confused puppy—Leon almost wants to kiss you for it. “It wasn’t on the recording of the procedures.”

He stares at you; you watch him with interest as the cogs turn behind his eyes. Understanding clicks in place and you pat his chest twice.

“I’ll see you next time, cupcake.” You tell him, close to skipping away, you’re so giddy. He watches your hips sway as you walk away, lower lip between his teeth before a smirk crawls across his face. He walks away whistling, scuffing his dress shoes on the floor.

[aspenmissing]

ᴄᴏᴜʀᴛʀᴏᴏᴍ ᴄʜᴇᴍɪꜱᴛʀʏ

ʀᴀꜰᴀᴇʟ ʙᴀʀʙᴀ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ || ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ || 1857 ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ || ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ɴ/ᴀ

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: ᴀꜰᴛᴇʀ ᴀ ꜰɪᴇʀᴄᴇ ᴄᴏᴜʀᴛʀᴏᴏᴍ ꜱʜᴏᴡᴅᴏᴡɴ, ᴅᴀ ʏ/ɴ ᴀɴᴅ ᴀᴅᴀ ʀᴀꜰᴀᴇʟ ʙᴀʀʙᴀ’ꜱ ʀɪᴠᴀʟʀʏ ꜱᴘᴀʀᴋꜱ ᴜɴᴇxᴘᴇᴄᴛᴇᴅ ᴄʜᴇᴍɪꜱᴛʀʏ ᴏᴠᴇʀ ᴅʀɪɴᴋꜱ, ʙʟᴜʀʀɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ʟɪɴᴇ ʙᴇᴛᴡᴇᴇɴ ᴏᴘᴘᴏɴᴇɴᴛꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴍᴏʀᴇ.

ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ʀᴀꜰᴀᴇʟ

The courtroom was silent — not with peace, but with pressure. It was the kind of stillness that only came after a verbal chess match between two lawyers who knew how to push each other’s buttons and draw blood without ever stepping out of decorum.

Your heels clicked faintly on the polished floor as you stepped forward from the prosecution’s table, shoulders squared, posture regal, voice smooth as silk. “Respectfully, Your Honour,” you said with a calm laced in steel, “I’d like to remind Mr. Barba that a dramatic pause does not count as an objection.”

There was a slight rustle of papers and suppressed laughter from the gallery, but your eyes were locked on the man across the aisle — Rafael Barba. He sat, legs crossed casually, elbow resting on the arm of his chair, fingers pressed to his lips like a king amused at court.

He lowered his hand, tilted his head just enough to be insufferable, and offered a smirk that could've been patented for charm and irritation. “Only when you’re not interrupting my rhythm, Counsellor.”

“Must be easy to lose rhythm when your argument’s off-beat,” you replied sweetly, eyes narrowing just a fraction.

“Counselors,” Judge Petrovsky interjected with a long-suffering sigh. She leaned forward with that look only seasoned judges had — the one that read, You’re both brilliant, and you’re both exhausting me. “This isn’t a tango, people. Proceed.”

You inclined your head with mock humility, stepping back as if giving Rafael the floor. He gave you a slight nod in return, that unspoken acknowledgment — we’ll pick this up later.

You both had reputations. Barba was the firebrand ADA with a sharp tongue and a sharper mind — the kind who could slice through witness testimony like a scalpel. You were the strategic one, surgical with your words, careful with your emotions. If he was heat, you were control. And in that courtroom, your styles collided with sparks.

The witness fumbled under Barba’s cross, then tried to steady himself under your redirect. The jury shifted in their seats. The gallery whispered. And when closing arguments came around, you both danced that final, devastating duet. He was eloquent. You were brutal. The jury took hours to decide. The tension lingered even after the gavel struck finality.

But it wasn’t courtroom tension anymore.

No.

Something else had taken root.

The early evening air was crisp when you stepped out of the courthouse. You paused at the top of the stairs, feeling the weight of the day finally begin to slip from your shoulders. The sun was low, painting the city in streaks of gold and fire. Horns blared distantly, and the sidewalk bustled with late commuters and lingering court staff. You were reaching for your phone to call a car when a familiar voice floated up from the steps below.

“You owe me a drink.”

You turned, already smiling. Rafael Barba stood a few steps down, adjusting the cuff of his sleeve with practiced ease, the ghost of a smirk curving his lips.

“I believe I earned it, Counsellor,” he added, eyes glinting beneath the fading sunlight.

You walked down the steps to meet him, raising an eyebrow. “Earned is a generous word.”

He feigned offense, hand to his chest. “Objection. That’s slanderous.”

“Overruled,” you said, brushing past him with a playful smirk. “I let you have that one. Consider it an act of mercy.”

He chuckled, the sound deeper than his usual courtroom laugh — unguarded, real. “Mercy. Right. I should thank you then. Preferably with bourbon.”

You glanced over your shoulder at him. “The place on 7th still open?”

“Unless it’s collapsed under the weight of prosecutorial egos,” he said dryly.

You nudged him with your shoulder. “Careful, Counsellor. That almost sounded like flirting.”

He tilted his head, smile widening. “Would that be out of order?”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the grin tugging at your lips. “Come on, Barba. Let’s go before you start quoting case law at me.”

“Oh, I brought case law,” he replied smoothly, falling into step beside you. “But I thought I’d wait until the second drink.”

You snorted. “Charming.”

He gave you a sidelong glance. “So they tell me.”

The bar on 7th was the kind of place that didn’t need to advertise. Nestled between a pawn shop and a closed-down theatre with a flickering marquee, it looked unassuming from the outside. But the moment you stepped through the door, the world shifted. It was dim and warm, the air touched with the scent of old whiskey, polished wood, and the faintest trail of cologne from the man beside you.

Inside, the lighting was low, golden. Vintage sconces cast pools of light along worn brick walls. The booths were high-backed and made of old leather that groaned when you sat, and the bar itself—mahogany, rich and dark—had been polished by time and elbows, the kind of place with history layered into every groove.

Soft jazz drifted from a record player in the corner. Not a playlist. Not a DJ. A record player. Real vinyl. It suited the place. Intimate. Timeless. Quiet enough for conversation but loud enough to hide the sound of hearts picking up speed.

As you stepped inside, Barba didn’t even have to approach the counter. The bartender looked up from rinsing glasses and gave him a familiar nod.

“Regular?” the bartender asked, a dry smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“I’ll take two,” Barba said, then turned to glance your way. “Neat, right?”

You nodded once, surprised but a little impressed that he remembered your preference from some office mixer two years ago—one of those tedious events you both spent in the corner dissecting appellate court rulings like it was foreplay.

You slid into a booth tucked in the back, sinking into the cool leather and exhaling a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding since you stepped out of the courthouse. With a relieved groan, you kicked off your heels beneath the table, letting your sore feet rest against the polished floor. Your blazer came off next, folded neatly and draped over the edge of the booth, revealing the sleeveless black blouse you’d worn beneath. Practical. Elegant. Tactical.

Barba joined you a moment later, setting your glass down with that same courtroom precision he used when presenting evidence—deliberate, exact. His jacket remained on, but his tie had been loosened and the first button of his shirt undone. Still composed, still sharp, but something in his posture had softened. Like he’d shed the weight of the job—if only a little.

He lifted his glass.

“To mutual respect,” you offered, voice low, the glass cool in your fingers as you tapped it to his.

“To formidable opponents,” he replied, and there it was again—that glint in his eye, a flash of something sharper than amusement. Admiration, maybe. Or interest. Possibly both.

You took a slow sip. Bourbon, rich and smooth, warmed your throat. You tilted your head as you studied him. “You mean to worthy distractions.”

He let out a soft chuckle, the kind that rumbled low in his chest. “Touché.”

The moment stretched, but it didn’t strain. There was no courtroom to impress. No judge watching. Just the two of you and the low thrum of music and the sharp scent of aged oak from the bar.

“You’re not used to being challenged,” you observed, the words falling somewhere between curiosity and flirtation.

Barba didn’t answer right away. He swirled the bourbon in his glass, gaze lingering on the amber liquid before lifting to meet yours. “I enjoy being challenged,” he said, voice slower now, heavier. “Especially when the challenger knows what she’s doing.”

You raised a brow. “Is that respect I hear, Counsellor Barba?”

He smirked—subtle, but unmistakable—as he leaned in, elbows resting on the table, fingers lightly tapping his glass.

“Please. Outside the courtroom,” he said, voice dropping just slightly, “it’s Rafael. Only colleagues call me Barba. Or Counselor.”

You tilted your head, a teasing lilt in your voice. “Oh? And what does that make me, then?”

His eyes gleamed. “Dangerously close to neither.”

You let out a quiet laugh, sipping your drink. “Careful, Rafael. That almost sounded like flirting.”

He grinned, leaning back slowly with that infuriating, self-satisfied ease. “Only almost?”

You blinked, amused. “So Rafael it is, huh?”

“You've earned it,” he replied smoothly.

“I’ll let you have it,” you countered, lips curving in a faint smile. “But if we’re keeping it fair, you can drop the ‘Counselor’ too. Y/N is fine”

He leaned in just a fraction more, head tilted, voice quiet. “Oh, but I like calling you that.”

There was a pause. Not the kind that begged to be filled, but the kind that hung, heavy and electric. You stared at each other across the small distance, and something buzzed at the edges of your skin.

You set your glass down with a quiet clink and met his gaze evenly. “Flattery? So soon?”

“It’s not flattery if it’s true.”

You considered him for a long moment. The Rafael Barba you’d heard about—the biting cross-examiner, the iron spine in court—was all real. But here, under the golden lights, with a whiskey in hand and no one to perform for, you were starting to see the edges of something more. Tired eyes that still sparkled with sharp intellect. Hands that had gestured with precision now resting, relaxed, on the table.

“You know,” he said, voice dipping lower, more intimate now, “next time we’re on opposite sides…I won’t go easy on you.”

You let that sink in. “Good,” you said finally, and your voice was just as soft. “I’d be insulted if you did.”

Barba sat back, watching you with an expression that bordered on admiration. Then, his eyes drifted toward the bar.

“Another drink?”

You tilted your head, giving him a playful look over the rim of your glass. “So tell me, Rafael… is this your strategy now? Get me tipsy and hope I let my guard down?”

He smirked, already rising to his feet with a slow, deliberate stretch. “Only if it works.”

You narrowed your eyes, amused. “Fine. But behave at the bar. No charming the bartender for extra drinks while you’re up there.”

He stood with a slow, deliberate stretch, adjusting the cuffs of his shirt and smoothing his tie with one practiced motion. “No promises, Counselor.”

“I thought we retired that title for the evening.”

“Old habits,” he said, offering you a wink before turning away.

You watched him walk to the bar, taking in the way the light cast across his shoulders, the sharp cut of his suit, the confidence in his stride. He greeted the bartender with a few quiet words, resting one hand casually against the bar as he waited.

He looked back once. Not to check on the drinks. To check on you. And your heart—traitorous, eager—skipped in response. You sat back, running your fingers lightly around the rim of your glass, a soft smile ghosting across your lips.

Rafael

Not Barba. Not just Counsellor.

Rafael

And maybe… something more.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

One of America’s most corporate-crime-friendly bankruptcy judges forced to recuse himself

Today (Oct 16) I'm in Minneapolis, keynoting the 26th ACM Conference On Computer-Supported Cooperative Work and Social Computing. Thursday (Oct 19), I'm in Charleston, WV to give the 41st annual McCreight Lecture in the Humanities. Friday (Oct 20), I'm at Charleston's Taylor Books from 12h-14h.

"I’ll believe corporations are people when Texas executes one." The now-famous quip from Robert Reich cuts to the bone of corporate personhood. Corporations are people with speech rights. They are heat-shields that absorb liability on behalf of their owners and managers.

But the membrane separating corporations from people is selectively permeable. A corporation is separate from its owners, who are not liable for its deeds – but it can also be "closely held," and so inseparable from those owners that their religious beliefs can excuse their companies from obeying laws they don't like:

https://clsbluesky.law.columbia.edu/2014/10/13/hobby-lobby-and-closely-held-corporations/

Corporations – not their owners – are liable for their misdeeds (that's the "limited liability" in "limited liablity corporation"). But owners of a murderous company can hold their victims' families hostage and secure bankruptcies for their companies that wipe out their owners' culpability – without any requirement for the owners to surrender their billions to the people they killed and maimed:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/11/justice-delayed/#justice-redeemed

Corporations are, in other words, a kind of Schroedinger's Cat for impunity: when it helps the ruling class, corporations are inseparable from their owners; when that would hinder the rich and powerful, corporations are wholly distinct entities. They exist in a state of convenient superposition that collapses only when a plutocrat opens the box and decides what is inside it. Heads they win, tails we lose.

Key to corporate impunity is the rigged bankruptcy system. "Debts that can't be paid, won't be paid," so every successful civilization has some system for discharging debt, or it risks collapse:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/10/09/bankruptcy-protects-fake-people-brutalizes-real-ones/

When you or I declare bankruptcy, we have to give up virtually everything and endure years (or a lifetime) of punitive retaliation based on our stained credit records, and even then, our student debts continue to haunt us, as do lawless scumbag debt-collectors:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/12/do-not-pay/#fair-debt-collection-practices-act

When a giant corporation declares bankruptcy, by contrast, it emerges shorn of its union pension obligations and liabilities owed to workers and customers it abused or killed, and continues merrily on its way, re-offending at will. Big companies have mastered the Texas Two-Step, whereby a company creates a subsidiary that inherits all its liabilities, but not its assets. The liability-burdened company is declared bankrupt, and the company's sins are shriven at the bang of a judge's gavel:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/01/j-and-j-jk/#risible-gambit

Three US judges oversee the majority of large corporate bankruptcies, and they are so reliable in their deference to this scheme that an entire industry of high-priced lawyers exists solely to game the system to ensure that their clients end up before one of these judges. When the Sacklers were seeking to abscond with their billions in opioid blood-money and stiff their victims' families, they set their sights on Judge Robert Drain in the Southern District of New York:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/05/23/a-bankrupt-process/#sacklers

To get in front of Drain, the Sacklers opened an office in White Plains, NY, then waited 192 days to file bankruptcy papers there (it takes six months to establish jurisdiction). Their papers including invisible metadata that identified the case as destined for Judge Drain's court, in a bid to trick the court's Case Management/Electronic Case Files system to assign the case to him.

The case was even pre-captioned "RDD" ("Robert D Drain"), to nudge clerks into getting their case into a friendly forum.

If the Sacklers hadn't opted for Judge Drain, they might have set their sights on the Houston courthouse presided over by Judge David Jones, the second of of the three most corporate-friendly large bankruptcy judges. Judge Jones is a Texas judge – as in "Texas Two-Step" – and he has a long history of allowing corporate murderers and thieves to escape with their fortunes intact and their victims penniless:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/08/07/hr-4193/#shoppers-choice

But David Jones's reign of error is now in limbo. It turns out that he was secretly romantically involved with Elizabeth Freeman, a leading Texas corporate bankruptcy lawyer who argues Texas Two-Step cases in front of her boyfriend, Judge David Jones.

Judge Jones doesn't deny that he and Freeman are romantically involved, but said that he didn't think this fact warranted disclosure – let alone recusal – because they aren't married and "he didn't benefit economically from her legal work." He said that he'd only have to disclose if the two owned communal property, but the deed for their house lists them as co-owners:

https://www.documentcloud.org/documents/24032507-general-warranty-deed

(Jones claims they don't live together – rather, he owns the house and pays the utility bills but lets Freeman live there.)

Even if they didn't own communal property, judges should not hear cases where one of the parties is represented by their long term romantic partner. I mean, that is a weird sentence to have to type, but I stand by it.

The case that led to the revelation and Jones's stepping away from his cases while the Fifth Circuit investigates is a ghastly – but typical – corporate murder trial. Corizon is a prison healthcare provider that killed prisoners with neglect, in the most cruel and awful ways imaginable. Their families sued, so Corizon budded off two new companies: YesCare got all the contracts and other assets, while Tehum Care Services got all the liabilities:

https://ca.finance.yahoo.com/news/prominent-bankruptcy-judge-david-jones-033801325.html

Then, Tehum paid Freeman to tell her boyfriend, Judge Jones, to let it declare bankruptcy, leaving $173m for YesCare and allocating $37m for the victims suing Tehum. Corizon owes more than $1.2b, "including tens of millions of dollars in unpaid invoices and hundreds of malpractice suits filed by prisoners and their families who have alleged negligent care":

https://www.kccllc.net/tehum/document/2390086230522000000000041

Under the deal, if Corizon murdered your family member, you would get $5,000 in compensation. Corizon gets to continue operating, using that $173m to prolong its yearslong murder spree.

The revelation that Jones and Freeman are lovers has derailed this deal. Jones is under investigation and has recused himself from his cases. The US Trustee – who represents creditors in bankruptcy cases – has intervened to block the deal, calling Tehum "a barren estate, one that was stripped of all of its valuable assets as a result of the combination and divisional mergers that occurred prior to the bankruptcy filing."

This is the third high-profile sleazy corporate bankruptcy that had victory snatched from the jaws of defeat this year: there was Johnson and Johnson's attempt to escape from liability from tricking women into powder their vulvas with asbestos (no, really), the Sacklers' attempt to abscond with billions after kicking off the opioid epidemic that's killed 800,000+ Americans and counting, and now this one.

This one might be the most consequential, though – it has the potential to eliminate one third of the major crime-enabling bankruptcy judges serving today.

One down.

Two to go.

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

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/16/texas-two-step/#david-jones

My next novel is The Lost Cause, a hopeful novel of the climate emergency. Amazon won't sell the audiobook, so I made my own and I'm pre-selling it on Kickstarter!

[literatecowboy]

Dr. Feelgood

12. Moonlight, Midnight

Masterlist Summary: You've been in trouble at work several times before for "lack of professionalism" but now you've gone too far. You've been reassigned to Task Force 141 as a temporary doctor to replace the ones they've made quit out of frustration. You must either prove yourself and earn your former position back at a prestigious military hospital in California or face dishonorable discharge. Author's Notes: The end...except for an epilogue lol Warnings: court proceedings, smut, mildest angst not involving character

-----

“Since I have been here, I have been presiding over cases for nearly thirty years. I have seen soldiers face charges of murder, of theft. This case has certainly been unique. Based on the evidence I have reviewed and the testimony of the witnesses, I am dismissing this case,” the Judge Advocate said, setting down his papers and removing his reading glasses. Your eyes widened and your mouth fell open, but your lawyer glared you into silence. The prosecutor rose and addressed the judge. 

“Your honor, the prosecution moves to drop the charges against the defendant,” the prosecutor said, sitting back down. You were unable to stop your outburst this time. A relieved sob tore through your throat and hot tears began to stream down your cheeks. Your lawyer squeezed your hand and smiled at you. 

“Very well. That concludes this arraignment,” the Judge declared, banging his gavel. 

“All rise,” the barrister echoed. The courtroom burst into noise as the people rose. The judge shuffled out. It was over. 

Before you could blink, the strong arms of your fiancee wrapped around you from behind. You squeezed your eyes shut, tears falling freely as he pulled your body into his and wrapped his arms around your waist. 

“You did it, love. It’s all over,” he murmured. You nodded, struggling to catch your breath as you cried. 

“I love you, Simon,” you sniffled, turning and embracing him, burying your face in his chest. He rubbed your back gently. 

“I love you too.”

—

“...and by the time Price got up tae testify, it was over. Those fuckin’ lawyers shoulda said ‘case dismissed’ right there, ye could tell they knew they were losin’,” Johnny said, throwing his hand in the air. He had shed his suit jacket and tossed it over his shoulder. Gaz rolled his eyes and went to adjust his ball cap, forgetting he wasn’t wearing it. 

“It isn’t the lawyers that say ‘case dismissed’ they say ‘we drop the charges’ mate,” he teased. You laughed as you followed the two out of the courthouse, wiping the tears from your eyes. 

“What you said for me on the stand? Thank you. All of you,” you said with a smile, squeezing Simon’s hand. As you headed for the parking lot you spied Price on his phone, pacing. His eyes were narrowed and though he did not yell, it was obvious that he was angry with someone. 

“Was the truth, bonnie. The charges were bogus, and tae judge saw that,” Soap said, offering you a smile. As Price watched your group approach, he hung up his phone and put on a smile. 

“Drinks on me, in honor of our victory,” he announced, clapping his hands together. 

“Everything okay?” you asked. Price nodded, shoving his phone into the pocket of his slacks. 

“Peachy, love. Are you alright?” he asked, pulling you in for a hug. 

“Just fine. And…thank you, for everything you said about me when you testified,” you said, squeezing him tight. Price nodded, and smiled. 

“I owe you my life. We all do. And somehow, you make my lieutenant a more cheerful man. You’re one of us, doc. And we protect our own,” he said. 

“Let’s go tae a pub, I could eat a horse,” Johnny moaned from the back of the car. John laughed and let you go, and Gaz helped you squeeze into the middle seat between him and Jonny. You rode off into the sunset with your best friends and your future husband. 

—

You whined quietly as Simon pulled his lips away from yours, your eyes fluttering open as he cradled your face in his hands. He slowed the pace of his gentle thrusts, gazing deep into your eyes. 

“Si-mon,” you groaned softly, running your hand through his hair and pushing your hips down against his in attempt to get more friction. “You’re being mean,” you whined. Simon took your hand and kissed the back of it tenderly. 

“I’m sorry, love. I just…want to savor you,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your lips and trailing kisses down your neck. You whined and arched your back, pushing your body into his as he picked up the pace again. 

“You deserve to be worshipped,” he murmured into your ear, his thrusts slow and tender. You grabbed his face and pulled his lips to yours. 

“I love you,” he groaned as you came up for air, his hands mapping every inch of your body. 

“Fuck, Simon, I love you too. You’re perfect,” you whined, trailing your fingers down his chest. Your lips interlocked again as he reached down and thumbed your clit gently, his hips stuttering as he tried to resist his orgasm. Pleasure seared your flesh and shot through your body, and you seized. 

“Cum, love,” Simon ordered, biting at your neck tenderly. You did not disobey, your body trembling as waves of pleasure overwhelmed you. Your eyes fluttered shut. Moments later Simon’s hips stuttered to a stop and he groaned as he spilled heat into you, pulling you into a tight embrace. 

You came down together, breathing in each other’s arms. Simon lay down and pulled you into his side, and you whimpered as he slid out of you. He kissed your noises away before getting up, returning with a towel and cleaning you gently. You yawned and he smiled, pressing a kiss to your forehead. Before long you were asleep, chest rising and falling in the moonlight. Simon did not allow himself to sleep. 

When midnight struck, he carefully extricated himself from your arms and slid out of the bed, dressing quietly. As he pulled his balaclava on and slid a gun into his waistband, preparing to leave, he watched you sleep peacefully. The case against you had been dismissed, but the problem was not yet dealt with. 

Simon slipped out into the hall and met Price in the quiet of the night. They had a general to visit.

Epilogue

-----

Taglist: @iamaliceinwonderland, @itsmeamysworld, @ghostlythots, @oranoyaora, @keiva1000

[dailyiisideship]

intro🔥🔥

hey guys this is the side blog I'll ship side characters here if I remember

Same rules and tag guides as the main blog

Woo

Character List:

8-Ball

Ballpoint Pen

Banana

Bandana

Barrel

Baton

Bell

Black Hole

CABBAGE.

Camera 1

Camera 2

Chives

Clip

Cookie

Cork

Dictionary

Dime

Dr. Fizz

Looseleaf

Frank

Groscer

Guava

Guitar

Hay Bale

Judge Gavel

Kumquat

Lemon

Magnifying Glass

Mangosteen

Mecintosh

MePhone1

MePhone3GS

MePhone4S

MePhone5

MePhone5C

MePhone5S

MePhone6

MePhone6+

MePhone7

MePhoneX

MeTag

PASTA.

Pineapple

Pizza Cutter

Poptart

Rubber Ball

Shell

Spikey Mervert

Springy

Starfruit

Steve Cobs

Teddy Bear

The Prime Shimmer

Thermos

Toilet Paper

Tomato

Traffic Light

TV

Tyler Bombard

Walkie-Talkie

Zoetrope

[prismaticpichu]

*clears throat* Sephiroth is on trial in an ace attorney ass courtroom, how do things go?

ANON I AM HUGGING YOU SO FUCKING HARD YOU HAVE NO IDEA 🤣❤️💖 YOU GET IT LOL!!

~

Judge: *pounds gavel thrice* Court is now in session for the trial of Mr. Sephiroth…

Judge: …!

Judge: Hmm. That is quite bizarre…

Edgeworth: Is something wrong, your honor?

Judge: Ah, yes, well… Our defendant doesn’t appear to have a last name.

*a heavy silence looms in the courtroom*

Edgeworth: …Our defendant has a more than complex background in deference to familial ties, your honor. He doesn’t currently have a legally documented surname.

Edgeworth: Are you serious? We haven’t even commenced the trial yet!

Phoenix: *pounding hands on desk* Maybe so, Edgeworth. But do you really think we can begin when we can’t even have the foundation of such basic information?

Edgeworth: …?! What are you babbling about?

Phoenix: *brandishing a document* I’m talking about, of course, the nature of my client’s name!

Edgeworth: …?!?!?!

Phoenix: You stated just moments before that, quote, ‘He doesn’t currently have a legally documented surname.’”

Edgeworth: Correct! The likes of which is a documented fact.

Phoenix: …*placing his hands on his hips as he smirks* Is that so, Edgeworth? Because if that truly WAS the case… then what is the document I have HERE!

Edgeworth: …?!?!?

Phoenix: *smirking still* I thought you might say that. Well… let me enlighten you all about a little something: just earlier, I stopped by the ShinRa labs in order to gather as much information about my client as possible. While there, I happened to stumble upon something very interesting. Something that, frankly… *his smirk deepens* Will shoot your little ‘fact’ right down where it stands.

Edgeworth: What is the meaning of this…?! WRIGHT.

Judge: Umm… gentlemen, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but… we have a trial to—

Phoenix: *brandishing the papers once more* Ladies and gentlemen… I would like to correctly introduce the name of my client…:

Phoenix: Mr Sephiroth Crescent, the surname of his mother——Lucrecia…!

Phoenix: …

Edgeworth: …

Judge: …

.

.

.

Sephiroth: …I—I believe you are mistaken, Mr Wright; my mother’s name is—

Phoenix: Jenova?

Sephiroth: …?!

Phoenix: I read all through the files, Sephiroth. All the experiments. And I’m afraid, as much as it hurts to say… that your father, Professor Hojo, has seemed to have lied to you since the very beginning.

Sephiroth: …

Phoenix: (poor guy looks so wounded…) *ahem*—

Edgeworth: Wright! I find this information completely irrelevant to the murder at—

Phoenix: Like I was saying… Hojo, your father figure, he seemed to have created a false identity of your mother… And manipulated you in order to conceal the real truth of your identity.

Sephiroth: My… identity?

Phoenix: *nodding* Yes. Lucrecia, you see… was the name of your mother. Your real mother. Your real mother who, in spite of everything… loved you to pieces, Sephiroth. Loved you so much that on the hospital bed she just wanted to hold you, just to tell you she-

Edgeworth: …Congratulations, Wright.

Phoenix: …What?

Edgeworth: Do you SEE your client right now…?!

Phoenix: …

Phoenix: …!

*Sephiroth, head buried into the defendant’s stand, his entire body trembling with the stifled weight of tears*

Sephiroth: Mother… mother… m… o…th..er mom… I love you too…

Phoenix: …

Edgeworth: …

Judge: …

.

.

.

Judge: Well…

Judge: This poor man certainly doesn’t look like a murderer to me

[m-jelly]

The Crow's Song - Ending

Prince Levi x Witch Reader

Royal Romance with magic.

Court day and Jane shows her madness is deep. The baby arrives and you learn the fate of Vance. A cute moment with your husband and the new little princess.

Ao3

The judge moved papers around on his desk. He released a long sigh and looked up. “Everyone all settled in?” He smiled as people responded. “Lovely. Duke Erwin, you are representing the Prince and Princess. Are you okay? You have everything.”

Erwin rose to his feet. “We’re okay over here.”

“Good.” He leaned and eyed you to see Levi had almost wrapped himself around you. “Your Highnesses, are you okay? If you need to step out, you are welcome to.”

Levi bowed his head. “Thank you.”

He looked over at Countess Layla to see she was pouting hard. “Countess, please behave yourself okay?”

She huffed. “I’ll do my best.”

“Thank you. I don’t want a fight in my courtroom today.”

She folded her arms. “Fine, fine.”

He released a long sigh. “Now, normally we have the King and Queen, but the two of them are currently occupied with having a strong word with King Rowen. So, we will do our best.” He shuffled in his seat. “Alright, quiet in court. I am Judge Robert Stevens, I will be presiding over this case along with the next one.” He sighed. “First, this is their Highnesses vs Lady Jane Applegate. Please bring in Lady Jane Applegate.”

All eyes moved to the side of the room where the stairs down to the cells resided. The wooden seats creaked as people shifted to look. The insane screams and shouts were initially quiet but were getting closer. Everyone present was getting very nervous and uncomfortable, it was hard to hear someone screaming and shouting so much like they were some possessed being.

The guards dragged Jane by her upper arms. Normally, people would go to a dock, but she was volatile so they chained her to a post behind bars in a cell alone. As they put her in her spot, the two guards had to wrangle her like a wild animal. She thrashed and moved a moment but paused as soon as she spotted Levi.

Jane lit up with joy. “Levi! Levi, my love! I knew you’d save me!”

Levi hugged you tightly and rubbed your baby bump. “The baby okay?”

You looked up at him as Jane kept shouting. “Yeah. They’re moving a bit.”

Levi placed his hand on your hump and smiled. “I can feel them. They’re comforting us.” He kissed your temple. “You are so beautiful.”

You gazed at him. “My handsome man.”

He kissed you causing Jane to scream bloody murder. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too.”

Judge Robert Stevens slammed his gavel. “Lady Jane Applegate, you will hold your tongue until I say you can speak. Do you understand me?”

Jane lowered her head. “I do, but he’s mine.”

“Right, now let’s begin.”

You gripped Levi’s thigh and turned your head to him. “I’m tired.”

Levi squeezed you. “Do you want to leave?”

You hummed. “I…I don’t know.”

“We’ll do anything you need.”

You released a long sigh. “It’s okay. We need to be here. I need to be here.” You looked ahead as Erwin talked about the case. “Just seems so…odd. I know she’ll never get better and she’s a bad person. I dunno, it’s just odd that we’re in court and closing this chapter in our lives.”

Levi kissed the side of your head. “I understand.”

Judge Robert sighed. “Lady Jane, your plea in this was rather confusing. So, please state your case.”

Jane smiled as she shuffled. “Thank you. I admit I attacked the witch.”

“The princess.”

“Witch.”

Judge Robert sighed. “Please refer to her with her correct title.”

Jane gritted her teeth. “This is what I’m talking about! That title is mine! I’m the princess! I was meant to meet the prince at a ball. He’d fall in love with my sweet innocence and purity. That witch was supposed to be the villainess in my story. I was supposed to be married to him!”

“Lady Jane. Please, lower your voice.”

Jane launched towards you. “You were supposed to die by my hand in that bedroom! That evil spawn inside you was supposed to perish. I’m meant to have a blessed baby with the prince! You both need to die so this world can be fixed! You’re killing it all.”

Judge Robert slammed his gavel. “Order! Order! Lady Jane, never in all my years have I met someone as delusional as you. This is not some magical book that pulled you in. This is real life and you almost killed an innocent woman. According to Duke Erwin, Prince Levi was the one who chased the princess for romance and marriage.”

“She put a spell on him!” She locked eyes with you. “You’re a disgusting monster! Your baby is trash!”

Levi reached over and covered your ears. He glared at Jane as she carried on screaming. He looked down at you and smiled softly. He mouthed to you. “I love you so much.”

You smiled brightly and mouthed back. “Love you.”

He leaned his head and kissed you. He moved his hands from your ears. “Sorry, I didn’t want you to hear what she had to say.”

You hugged Levi. “Thank you.”

Judge Robert shook his head. “Unbelievable and delusional. Lady Jane, you need serious psychological assistance. I believe the best course of action is to give you life but provide you with mental health assistance.”

You winced a little. “Ah.”

Levi panicked a bit. “Bunny?”

You hummed and rubbed your belly. “Baby kicked. I could do with some fresh air.”

Levi slipped out of his seat and then guided you out of court as Jane started shouting about her fate. He found a little spot for you by a water fountain. “How is this?”

You nodded. “It’s perfect.”

Levi stopped you from sitting. “Wait.” He dragged his blazer off and lay it down. “There, now you can sit.”

You hummed a laugh and sat down. “You’re so cute.”

He crouched in front of you and massaged the back of your legs. “We don’t have to be here, okay? We can go home and sort out the baby’s room.” He rested his chin on your lap. “Erwin will update us.”

You released a long sigh. “But I want to be seen as strong.”

“Darling, you are strong. You faced off against Jane and Vance.” He placed his hands on your belly. “You are making an adorable little baby.”

You giggled. “You always know how to make me smile.”

He tilted his head and kissed you. “I want to make you smile as much as possible.”

“You’re a wonderful husband.” You caressed his cheek. “Can we go home?”

“Yes.”

He helped you to your feet. “Let's get home, have a hot chocolate and snuggle up a bit.”

“I think that’s the perfect plan.”

You couldn’t stop crying, it was just a perfect love-filled moment. Your darling daughter had just been born, your body was a mess but you were so happy at how plump and lively she was. You looked up at Levi sitting next to you to see he was crying just as much as you. “Levi.”

He wrapped an arm around you and kissed your temple. “You are amazing. She’s perfect.” He sobbed a bit. “She’s so chunky.”

Kuchel hurried over to you and dabbed your forehead. “You have an incredibly healthy baby girl.”

You sniffed. “Daisy, she’s called Daisy.”

Levi kissed your cheek. “Princess Daisy Ackerman. It’s beautiful.”

Your mother reached for Daisy. “Can I take her? She needs cleaning.”

You handed your baby over. “Okay.”

Levi hugged you. “Bunny, I’m going to try and heal you with my magic, okay?”

You nodded. “Okay, as long as Daisy is okay.”

Levi helped you lie down on the bed. “She’s fine. She’s in good hands.” He placed his hand on your pelvis and the side of your face. “Relax a bit, okay?” He sighed as he sent his magic into you. “Let me know if you feel sick.”

You closed your eyes and leaned into Levi’s touch. “Mm, it feels so warm and cosy.”

Levi leaned over and kissed your forehead. “I’m glad it feels good.”

You opened your eyes and gazed at him. “Kiss.”

He kissed you. “You get all the kisses.”

You winced. “Mm, stop.”

He pulled back from you. “I’ve healed a lot. You just need one more session. You did well.”

You smiled brightly. “Thanks. Can you help me sit up? I want to hold Daisy when she’s back.”

“Of course, but I think it’s best we move you to a new bed.”

“Really?”

He nodded and scooped you up into his arms. “The bed is a bit of a mess.”

You looked down to see what he was talking about. “All that came out of me?”

“Don’t look at it. Focus on me.”

You smiled at Levi. “Okay.”

He carried you to your shared bedroom and straight to the bathroom. “I think a bath would be good.”

You sighed a bit. “Yeah.”

“I know, I know, you want Daisy but you need a nice bath and new clothes. Daisy is being checked and cleaned by our mothers.”

You smiled a bit. “I hope she’s healthy.”

“She is.” He removed your dress and sat you in the bath. He started delicately scrubbing you. “Is the water okay?”

“It’s making me tired. So, it’s perfect.”

“I’m glad.” He carried on cleaning you before lifting you out of the bath, drying you and placing you in a new night dress. “Cute.”

You hugged your husband. “Thank you. You’ve been unbelievable.”

He carried you to the bed and tucked you in. “I just want to take care of you, that’s all.” He kissed your cheek. “Now, I’m off to get our precious little girl. You going to be okay without me for a bit?”

You nodded and pulled at the bedsheets. “I think so.”

“I’ll hurry.”

You waved to Levi as you sat in bed alone. You lowered your hand and hummed in thought. It was odd to not have a baby moving inside you anymore, there was just this emptiness and an aching in your body from delivering her. It felt weird to be alone as well. In the last two months of your pregnancy, you were never left alone. Your labour was a full day and even more people were around you, but now you were alone and you felt.

Empty.

For a long time, you were alone and had no one, you were by yourself and then you dated Vance and it was impossible to get away from him. When you broke up with Vance, you were alone again and it brought you some sense of peace. Levi walked into your life and you hadn’t been alone for years because of him. Levi changed your little world into a bigger one full of life, laughter, friends and love. So, sitting alone in a room after giving birth, was hard.

You didn’t like being alone.

Levi softly opened the door with a smile on his face and Daisy carefully held against him. “She is clean. She is healthy and she has done a poop already.” He chuckled. “The doctor said he’s never known a baby to be so active and healthy and that you must have fed her well.” He looked up at you and his smile dropped. “Sweet bunny witch wifey?”

You rubbed your tears away. “Sorry, I was just thinking that I used to be so lonely, but you’ve made my life and world so much better. I’m not alone anymore.” You sobbed a bit. “Being in here without you or anyone, I just missed that liveliness around me.”

He hurried over to you. “Oh, sweet spell bunny.” He sat and showered your face with kisses. “I love you so much. You’re so cute.”

You sniffed. “You’re cuter.”

He smiled softly. “I agree though. Before finding you, life was lonely. I’m so glad I have you.” He looked down at Daisy sleeping. “Look what you made.”

“We.” You played with Levi’s hair. “We made her.”

“I was all you.”

You hummed a laugh. “Levi, I did need your cum to make her.”

He blushed a bit. “True, but you baked her like a little cute loaf she is.”

You reached down and lightly touched her puffy cheek. “Okay, you win.” You sighed. “She is so cute. Did she really do a poop already?”

“Yeah, was a deadly one.”

You leaned down and inhaled. “Mm, she smells so good though.”

“Like baked goods.”

You laughed. “She is a baked good.”

Levi leaned over and kissed you. “You’ll never be alone again, okay?”

“Thank you.”

He looked down as Daisy shifted and whined. “I think she’s hungry. Are you okay to feed her? It’s okay if you’re tired, we have milkies back up.”

You moved your dress down. “I’m good to go.”

Levi moved Daisy into your arms and helped you a little. “There we go.”

You smiled as Daisy latched on and started drinking. “Oh, thank goodness she latched on.”

Levi wrapped his arm around you. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

You yawned a bit. “I’m tired.”

He squeezed you. “I know, I know, but just a little longer and then you can nap.”

“Mm.” You pated Daisy’s bum. “She’s doing so well.”

“You’re doing good as well.”

“I guess I am.” You pulled Daisy from your chest. “Could you burp her?”

Levi happily took his daughter. “I’d be honoured.”

You slipped down in bed and sighed. “I’ve never felt this exhausted.”

“Well, you did bring a little…well…” He looked at Daisy. “She’s not little, she’s a chunky flower. Anyway…” He smiled at you. “You did bring a chunky baby into the world and you can’t use magic, everyone has been around you so much. Oh, and finally Vance has been sentenced.”

You gripped the sheets. “He has?”

Levi rocked Daisy. “Yeah. I guess I should have told you. He was sentenced.”

“What…what happened?”

“He’s been banished to an island. He’s had his magic taken from him. He’ll be made to work on the island with others. They haven’t healed him so his arm is back.”

You stared at Levi. “Let me guess, you asked them not to?”

He pouted. “That hand touched you!” He gasped when Daisy whined at him raising his voice. “Shh, it’s okay, little flower. Daddy got angry at a poohead.”

You giggled as Daisy settled down. “All better.”

Levi slipped down into bed and lay Daisy on his chest. “I’ll do the first shift. You sleep as much as possible, okay?”

You hummed. “Are you sure?”

He nodded. “Darling spell bunny, you pushed this chunky thing out of you. You need rest. Leave it to me. If she needs feeding, I will wake you.”

You rubbed Levi’s arm. “Thank you.”

Levi lightly held your hand as his other rested on his daughter. He smiled softly as his whole body relaxed. He rested his eyes a moment but Daisy getting fussy woke him up. He worried she was hungry because you were in a deep sleep but then he smelt it. “Oh, you pooped big time, huh?”

He slipped out of bed and took his daughter to her room. He cleaned her up and changed her. As soon as he left his room he saw his parents and yours. He showed Daisy to them and enjoyed the fuss they were making of her. He gave them an update on how you were doing and accepted their offer to take some shifts so the two of you could get some sleep. He handed his daughter over to your mother and bid them farewell for now.

He dragged his tired body down the hall and back to the bedroom. He paused when you sat looking exhausted. “Love.”

You opened your arms to him. “Come here.”

He hurried over, climbed into bed and spooned with you. “Mm.”

“Daisy with our parents?”

“They offered and said we need sleep.”

You cuddled Levi. “I think that’s a good idea.”

Levi hummed. “Plus, you need me.”

“I always need you.”

“Me too.”

Daisy sat on her blanket in the ballroom, her favourite blanket in her hand and her eyes locked onto you as you flew around. She squealed with laughter. “Ma, ma, ma!”

You floated over to her. “I’m here, little flower. Stay there for mummy.” You flew up and lined the walls with more decorations. “There.”

Daisy slapped her hands on the floor and began crawling to you. “Eh! Ma, ma, ma.”

Levi entered the ballroom with a few boxes. “I have those decorations from my welcoming ceremony. I can’t believe we’re using what my mother used for me for Daisy. Makes me feel so warm inside. I just know everyone will love Daisy.”

You hummed a laugh. “It’s very cute. This place went from baby Levi to baby Daisy.”

Levi placed the boxes down and saw his daughter crawling. “Oop, we have an escaped bunny.” He used his crows to grab her by the back of her onesie, lift her and bring her to him. “Got you.”

Daisy squealed in delight and clapped her little hands. “Aboo!”

Levi chuckled. “That’s right, aboo.”

She looked up and smiled. “Ma!”

Levi smiled at his daughter. “That’s right, it’s mummy.”

You flew down and fixed your dress. “Sorry, since getting my powers back I just want to use them all the time.” You made lights sparkle for Daisy. “I love my magic because it led me to you.”

“I love your magic too.”

You kissed Daisy’s cheek and then Levi. “Could you watch her for a bit? I’ll finish off decorating.”

Levi carried his daughter over to her blanket and sat. “Looks like it’s you and me kiddo.”

Daisy patted Levi’s cheek. “Bah.”

“That so?” He sat her on his lap and picked up her favourite toy. He wiggled the little toy at her making her giggle. “I’m a happy little crow, hop, hop, hop.” He used it to kiss her nose. “I protect you and mummy.”

She clapped her hands. “Mm.”

He lifted it and made it dance. He summoned some of his magical crows and made them dance too. “Little crow party for my little baby.”

She wiggled on her bum. “Ah!” She reached for a shadow crow, but fell forward and hit her head. “Uh…” She welled up. “Oooow.”

He scooped her up and held her as she cried a little. “It’s okay.” He kissed her forehead. “You got a little boo boo, huh?” He picked up her toy crow. “Here you go.”

She grabbed her toy and hugged it. “Mm.”

He cuddled her and kissed the top of her head a few times. “Better?”

She patted and pulled at the doll. She stopped and sighed. “Mm.”

“Big sigh for a little girl.”

You landed on your feet and smiled. “I think she’s probably hungry.”

Levi adjusted her in his arms. “Let’s get you something to eat, huh?”

You sat down and grabbed a food pot from your bag. “Here.”

“Thank you.” He took the pot and spoon from you. He fed Daisy and smiled as she happily ate and wiggled. “You are very hungry, huh?”

“She eats a lot. I’m glad she does.” You cleaned her face a little. “Each day I hope that she’s healthy.”

“She’s healthy.” He gave her a drink before helping her burp. “All better. I think we’ll have a little play now, huh?” He placed her down and watched her crawl. “I feel like it’s she’ll be running circles around us in no time.”

You hummed a laugh. “It’s hard to think she’ll be growing up into an adult one day.”

Levi flopped onto your lap and whined. “No, she’d not allowed.”

You played with Levi’s hair. “She has to.” You watched Daisy crawl around and then move towards Levi. “She’s coming back for you.”

Daisy crawled over and petted Levi’s head. “Da, da, da.”

Levi smiled. “Thank you.”

She hummed then noticed you and squealed in delight. “Ma! Mm!”

You picked her up and kissed her face. “Hello, my little flower.”

Levi sat up and smiled. “You know, I couldn’t have asked for anything better in life.”

You grinned at him. “I feel the same way.”

“We have a very long life together. The next major step is being King and Queen when my father steps down.” He moved closer. “Can you handle that?”

“Me? Handle work, you and this one? Easy.” You smirked. “Just watch me. I’m a woman who sets her mind to achieve things and gets them. I mean, I got you.”

Levi chuckled. “You really did get me.”

“What about you?”

He released a long sigh. “With you by my side? I can do anything.”

[50calmadeuce]

Ch. 41: Court - Dorian Again Con't

Warning: Mention of miscarriage. Some chapters have sex.

Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction using characters from the Top Gun: Maverick world, trademarked by Paramount Pictures Corporation. I do not claim ownership of the characters and the world that I am borrowing.

The story and situation I am creating are a work of my imagination and I do not ascribe them to official story canon. This work is for entertainment only and is not a part of the storyline.

I am not profiting financially from the creation and publication of this story, but I do hope it gives you happy thoughts.

These stories are my own, so please do not take them and use them for yourself without my permission. If you see them somewhere else, please let me know. :)

Dorian's attorney slowly approached the witness stand. "Dr. Stryker. You stated in your last statement that you and Dr. Seresin are married and the child she is currently carrying is yours."

"Yes," Dorian agreed.

Mr. Rowe walked over to his desk and grabbed a piece of paper. "I'd like to submit the marriage certificate of Dr. Stryker and Dr. Seresin."

Your eyes widened in surprise, and Dunby glanced at you. You shrugged and shook your head, equally astonished.

Mr. Rowe handed the marriage certificate to the judge, who examined it carefully before raising an eyebrow. "Mr. Rowe, this document claims that Dr. Seresin is married to Dr. Stryker, but this contradicts the testimony we’ve already heard. Do you have any explanation for this?"

Mr. Dunby stood up, visibly irritated. "Your Honor, this is clearly fraudulent. Dr. Seresin has already testified about her marriage to Lieutenant Jake Seresin. This document cannot be legitimate. I have right here the marriage certificate of Jake and Y/N Seresin."

The judge nodded as the bailiff walked over and grabbed the paper from Mr. Dunby and walked it over to the judge.

Dorian’s attorney remained calm. "Your Honor, we believe that this document will prove to be genuine and that it was obtained under legally binding circumstances."

The judge reviewed both marriage certificates, his expression growing more serious with each passing moment. "Mr. Rowe, I now have two conflicting marriage certificates in front of me. One for Dr. Y/N Seresin and Lieutenant Jake Seresin, and another for Dr. Y/N Seresin and Dr. Dorian Stryker. This is a serious matter, and we will need to resolve this discrepancy immediately."

Mr. Dunby stepped forward. "Your Honor, we request that the so-called marriage certificate between Dr. Stryker and Dr. Seresin be reviewed by a forensic document expert. It’s clear to me that Dr. Stryker is attempting to manipulate this court, and my client has already testified to the truth."

Dorian sat quietly, his eyes fixed on you, while his attorney tried to regain control of the situation. "Your Honor, we are confident that the authenticity of this document will hold up under scrutiny. Dr. Stryker and Dr. Seresin have a complicated history, and we ask that the court consider all the facts before passing judgment."

The judge leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers. "Very well. I will order an immediate review of these documents. Until we have clarity on this issue, we will adjourn for the day. Court will reconvene tomorrow at 9 AM."

With that, he banged his gavel, and the tension in the room broke as people began to file out. You, still in shock, couldn’t shake the feeling that things were about to get even more complicated.

You walked out of the courthouse with Mr. Dunby, Max and Chuck right behind.

Dunby stopped and looked at you. "Where the hell did he get a marriage certificate with your name on it?"

You shrugged. "I have no clue. I know I signed a lot of stuff during the first time we worked together and when we created the book."

Mr. Dunby rubbed his temples, clearly frustrated. "We’ll need to go over everything you signed back then. He might have slipped something in without you realizing."

Max stepped in. "If he forged your signature or tricked you into signing something, we’ll find out. Dorian's desperate, and he's trying to pull every trick in the book."

Chuck chimed in, his voice steady. "We’ll get to the bottom of this, Doc. No way he can get away with something like this."

You nodded, feeling a mix of frustration and disbelief. "I just don’t understand how he managed to pull this off. I mean, I’ve only ever been married to Jake."

Dunby sighed, his expression growing more determined. "We’ll look into every document tied to that time. If he slipped something into the paperwork, we'll catch it. You’re only married to Jake, and we'll prove that in court." He pat your shoulder. "I'll stop by later and we'll go over some things."

"You might as well just come over for dinner. I know how much you enjoy Chuck's cooking." You took a deep breath, grateful for the support from all of them. "Thanks, all of you. I’m just ready to put this nightmare behind me."

Max added, "And we will. One step at a time."

Dunby looked at you. "Have you spoken to Jake lately?"

You shook your head. "No and I have no clue where he is or what he's doing. Welcome to being married to a fighter pilot."

Dunby reached out and placed his hand on your shoulder. "It's okay. We may not need him, but if you talk to him, give him my information."

You nodded. "I will."

"Now. Go and get some rest. I'll see you later."

As you nodded and walked away from the courthouse, you felt the weight of everything that had happened so far. The day had been overwhelming, but you knew that rest was necessary if you were going to continue fighting tomorrow.

Later that evening, Dunby stopped by and the two of you sat on the couch. He pulled some papers out of his brief case and set them down in front of you.

"Do you recognize these?"

You looked at one that said Wyoming Marriage Certificate. It had your signature along with Dorian's.

You shook your head. "No. I don't."

You looked at the date. "This apparently was done while I was working on the grant then."

"And what about this one?" he asked as he set another marriage certificate in front of her. This one said Texas Marriage certificate.

"Yeah! I had to sign that after the officiant married Jake and I."

Dunby nodded, his brow furrowed in thought as he studied both documents. "The Texas certificate is legitimate, no doubt about that. But this Wyoming one… it looks convincing, but if you don't remember signing it, something's not right."

You stared at the Wyoming certificate, feeling a mix of confusion and anger. "I never married Dorian. I would remember something like that."

Dunby leaned back, tapping his fingers on the arm of the couch. "I believe you. But we’ll need to prove that this Wyoming certificate was forged or obtained under false pretenses. The timing, with you working on the grant, could have been when he slipped this in without your knowledge."

You sighed, rubbing your temples. "It makes sense, I signed so many things back then. I didn’t read every little thing, and I trusted him professionally."

"We’ll dig deeper," Dunby assured you.

Your cellphone rang and you looked to see who it was. It was Jake!

You answered and placed him on speaker phone.

"Hey, babe!" you answered excitedly. "You're on speaker phone and you called at the perfect time. Mr. Dunby wants to talk to you.

"Hey, darlin'. That's fine."

You held the phone out towards Mr. Dunby.

"Hello, Lieutenant Seresin," he said.

"Mr. Dunby. How is the case going?" Jake asked curiously.

"Well, that's what I want to talk about. I know you and Y/N didn't really talk much for four years, but Dr. Stryker brought up a marriage certificate between him and Y/N while she was in Wyoming."

Jake sighed and you could tell he was upset. "Is it legit?"

"It looks like it, but we also have your marriage certificate from Texas."

"Then you should be fine."

"Yes and I hate to ask this, but you didn't file for a divorce while separated, did you?"

"No. I wouldn't do that. I may have been a shitty husband for four years, but I would've talked to Y/N if I wanted that."

Mr. Dunby nodded, clearly relieved. "That’s good to hear, Jake. We just needed to be sure. This whole situation with Dr. Stryker is complicated enough, and the last thing we need is any confusion about your marriage."

Jake's jaw tightened, clearly frustrated. "I can't believe this guy is pulling this kind of stunt. How did he even manage to get her signature?"

"That’s what we’re trying to figure out. Y/N doesn’t remember signing anything like that. It might have been slipped in with other documents when they were working together," Dunby explained.

Jake sighed.

"Lieutenant. Is there any way you could come to the hearing? Even if it's virtual?"

"I can talk to my superior and let you know."

"That would be great. I'll let you talk to Y/N now." Mr. Dunby stood up and went to the kitchen.

You took the phone off of speaker and placed it to your ear. "Ok. It's just me now."

"How are you holding up, Y/N?"

You sighed. "As best as I can."

Jake's voice softened. "I wish I could be there with you. This whole thing sounds like a mess."

You nodded, even though he couldn’t see you. "It is. I never expected Dorian to pull something like this, especially not with a fake marriage certificate. It's exhausting."

"I know," Jake replied, his tone filled with concern. "But you’re strong, and we’ll figure it out. I hate that I can’t be there right now, but you’re not alone in this."

"Thanks," you whispered. "It helps to hear you say that. I just want all of this to be over."

"I meant what I said, Y/N. I may have been a douche of a husband for four years, but if I did want a divorce, I would've talked to you in person."

"I know, Jake," you acknowledged.

"I don't know how I got so lucky to have someone like you in my life."

You smiled. "You're not the only lucky one, Jake," you said softly.

"I love you, Y/N. I'm going to go talk to Maverick and see what I can do to help with this trial," he said.

"I love you, too. Let me know what you find out."

"I will. Talk to you later."

With that, he hung up his phone.

Tags: @buckysteveloki-me @bellyliveslife @tgmreader @callsign-barbelle @86laura11 @dizzybee03 @kmc1989 @guacam011y @nerdgirljen @hookslove1592 @dempy @djs8891 @smoothdogsgirl @devil-angel-winchester

[dailypapership]

Greetings and salutations!

Welcome to dailypapership! Every day, I spin a wheel that includes mostly every II character, and whoever it lands on gets paired with Paper for the ship of the day. Of course, there are certain characters are excluded for their obvious reasons, but for the most part, it's every ship randomized by the wheel.

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About Mod 💠

Please refer to me using Xe/Xem, He/Him, Vey/Vem, or 0/1 pronouns since those are what make me most comfortable.

Why did I create this blog? Simple, really!

I love Paper. Oh and also silly little ships.

A ton of ship blogs inspired me to make this blog, if I'm being honest. I just kept seeing blogs, even different fandoms, that had their ships. Still, this is mostly inspired @dailyiiwheelship

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Post Tags 🔖

#dailypapership - The main tag for this blog. All posts related to a Paper ship will be tagged under this.

#[nonship post] - For posts that aren't at all related to the Paper ship

#[bulletin board] - Posts that are important

#[queries] - Mod answering asks, feel free to send any! :3

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Notes 📝

1. Again, all of the ships are fully randomized by the wheel. The only time I will spin again is if it lands on the same character.

2. If you're looking forward to a specific ship and want to be tagged when it gets posted, feel free to send me an ask! I'll be happy to tag you if the wheel lands on that pairing. Just let me know

3. Ships aren't strictly romantic!!! You can see them as platonic or in whichever way you want !

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FULL CHARACTER LIST

If I'm missing any characters please let me know!

8-Ball

A.D.A.M.

Apple

B.R.I.A.N.

Balloon

Ballpoint Pen

Banana

Bandana

Barrel

Baseball

Baton

Bell

Black Hole

Blueberry

Boaty

Bomb

Bot

Bow

Box

Cabbage

Cabby

Camera 1

Camera 2

Candle

Cheesy

Cherries

Chives

Clip

Clover

Cookie

Cork

Cucumber

Dictionary

Dime

Dough

Dr. Fizz

Evil Paper

Fan

Frank

Gamey

Goo

Groscer

Guava

Guitar

Hay Bale

J.U.S.T.I.N.

Judge Gavel

Knife

Kumquat

Lemon

Lifering

Lightbulb

Magnifying Glass

Mangosteen

Marshmallow

Mecintosh

MePad

MePhone1

MePhone3G

MePhone3GS

MePhone4

MePhone4S

MePhone5

MePhone5C

MePhone5S

MePhone6

MePhone6+

MePhone7

MePhoneX

MeTag

Microphone

Nickel

OJ

Paintbrush

Party Hat

Pasta

Pepper

Pickle

Pineapple

Pizza Cutter

Poptart

Rubber Ball

Salt

Shell

Silver Spoon

Soap

Spikey Mervert

Springy

Starfruit

Steve Cobs

Suitcase

Taco

Tea Kettle

Teddy Bear

Test Tube

The Floor

The Prime Shimmer

Thermos

Tissues

Toilet

Toilet Paper

Tomato

Traffic Light

Trophy

TV

Tyler Bombard

Tyler Bungard

Walkie-Talkie

Window

Yin-Yang

Zoetrope

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