#*bangs a gavel down* HOT

[prince-of-orchids]

If another knight (who is also my former lover from my untamed days as a plucky young soldier) showed up to your castle to challenge and I had to duel him to the death for your honor, and you had to watch from the stands tracing my body in your mind as you watch me move in tandem, rough and sweaty and grunting with this man you know I once shared myself with, secretly wishing it was you I was so intently focused on, would that be hot or what?

- 🪓

(long time no see)

The appearance of a knight unknown to me was initially not surprising. One would assume a royal would be somewhat familiar with the guards who do and do not belong at the castle, yet it is no secret only one knight truly holds my attention. The ensuing challenge was an annoying formality at first, but then a duel to the death called you to take up arms for the honor of your prince. As the arrangements are made it's hard to keep the possesive flares at bay, especially once I learn of your prior relationship with the other knight. How dare they come into my domain and seek to claim your body once more, if not for himself then for death. To steal the breath from your overexerted lungs, and lay their own blood drawn marks upon your skin. Your days of wandering wherever your order of chivalry bade you, and seeking the company of other rough hands in the night are over. They've since made way for the stability my castle walls provide, and the comfort you find in my arms. He'd lost you long before you swore an oath to me, and now your home and heart, my darling knight, lie solely with your prince.

Even with my station, I am not allowed to interfere with duel. However that does not stop me from trying to add to your motivation. The keen eyes of the kingdom are on us now so subtlety is key. A few light yet lingering touches on your paldrons that shift just barely to the curve of your neck. Some vague whispers when we're just out of earshot about caring for your injuries and then caring for you in other ways. After the duel you may just have to lay back and take whatever I'm willing to give, you wouldn't want to agrivate your wounds with any strenuous activities after all. Anything to try and keep at least some portion of your mind dedicated to thoughts of me. Of course when the final hour arrives and the crowds have gathered I'll offer you a token of my favor; a hankerchief to tie onto your armor.

When the duel begins it's clear to me who the victor will be. Your prowess with a sword is well known; you hadn't garnered my initial notice for nothing after all. You're at home in the field of battle. Confident footwork resulting in a back and forth dance as you dodge and strike. The line of your body rigid yet dynamic. I've seen and cataloged every inch of you, so it's not hard to picture the underlying muscle all coiled with controlled anticipation, and ready to react at the slightest move from your opponent. Or the flex of your arm as it extends with another quick parry and arching slash.

You're nothing but an absolute marvel to behold. Which makes it all the more troubling to know the subject of your focus and efforts is not me. The consistent faltering of your opponent exposes their folly. This poor washed-up old lover of yours still operating on whatever impression you left in your absence. Still thinking, perhaps wishing, you are just as you were before, that fledgling soldier. And yet there's is still that underlying familiarity. The comfortability of sharing a space that speaks of nights spent trading blows on training mats and shifting bodies on bedrolls. By circumstance, this pitiful thing still demands your attention in full. The dance for two, the anticipation of a partner, and the eyes narrowed with single-minded focus. Action and reaction that should be ours to share.

In the end the killing blow is brutal, yet quick and efficient. When your opponent is knocked down to their knees and his battered face gazes up at you, there are no last words spoken. No quiet exchange of what-if's or muttered appologies. Just one more precise swing of your sword and the body crumbles in the dirt. You look haggard as you remove your helm. Your breaths are coming out short, and both sweat and dirt stubbornly cling to your face. The splatters of blood have started to drip down, leaving shining stripes of red across your armor. Finally the world rights itself again as you turn to meet my eyes in full, and I am blessed with the brutal visage of a knight radiant with victory. Amongst the cheering masses of the public, I gaze back at you with unabashed adoration and unsatiated desire in equal measure. You are mine once more.

(Hello again! It is an absolute pleasure to hear from you as always, and I hope the days are treating you well :] )

[magpiepills]

Promises Broken

Rating: EXPLICIT 18+ MDNI

Pairing: Javier Pena x f! Reader, Javier pena x unnamed OC

Word count: 1.1k

Summary: what happens after you knock Javi up?

Warnings: SMUT, SENSITIVE TOPICS, DO NOT READ THIS IF IT MIGHT UPSET YOU. Abortion, drinking, smoking, PIV, oral- f receiving, fingering, mpreg, sad Javi, absolute nonsense. No editing no beta, nothing like that.

A word from the author: there’s no reason for this other than @schnarfer and I thinking it’s kinda funny. Thank you to the folks who read the original, Promises, Promises

Javier shifts uncomfortably in the metal folding chair. The tv plays quietly in the corner, some tv judge bangs a gavel, someone coughs, a telephone rings, a chair scrapes against the worn linoleum floor. These things irritate him. Everything irritates him. His back has a twinge and his tits are sore. You still don’t answer the phone and he wishes he hadn’t memorized your number.

He’s assigned a number at the front desk and when it is called he is handed a clipboard full of forms to fill out. He balances it on his knee and scowls, unable to let go of his irritation. He didn’t even want you anymore. He only kept calling because he hoped you might chip in on the abortion. He certainly wasn’t keeping it. Sure, for a moment he thought maybe he should. He thought of his parents, he thought of the future. But he was here, alone, and living in the present, so he had to do what he had to do.

He filled out the form, writing as neatly as he could. After a long wait in that damned chair he finally got called back. An exam, a litany of questions, a knowing look, and a package of pills that he tucked into his leather jacket along with a list of instructions.

Steve was waiting in the car across the street. The men didn’t speak until they were back on the other side of town.

“You want to get some lunch?”

Food was the last thing Javi wanted.

“Just drop me off, Steve. And let’s just keep this between us, alright?”

“Sure. Sure. I don’t know anything. Didn’t see you today.”

Javi softened, nodding as he got out of the car. “Thanks.”

Inside his apartment, he turned on the tv, switching channels until he found a channel playing reruns of Gunsmoke. It reminded him of home. He took his pill and settled back on the couch, afghan draped around his shoulders. same couch you’d fucked him on with a weary sigh, and tried to sleep. Matt Dillon never had these problems. He pitied himself, he slept fitfully, he took the next day off work, blaming a migraine.

The rest of the week passed, and Javi’s mood didn’t lift. He worked as long as he could, spending as much time away from the office as possible. Even if it wasn’t strictly necessary, he would sit in his Jeep with the window cracked, chain smoking and stewing, logging his time in thought as “surveillance.”

You’d used him. Almost made a mother of him, and you couldn’t even say goodbye. The hot tears that burnt his cheeks only pissed him off.

Javi needed a drink by the time he made it back to his apartment. He ate leftover take out, and added to the mountain on unwashed laundry beside the bed.

On Friday, Steve cornered him at his desk. “Connie wants to go out tonight,” he said, with a resignation that suggested the matter was settled.

“So take her out, you don’t need my permission,” Javi grumbled, annoyed at the invitation made out of what he assumed was pity. He didn’t want to be cheered up. He didn’t want to talk.

He thought he’d gotten his point across until a small and determined fist rapped on his door at 6:45.

Connie stood expectantly, purse on her shoulder, husband cowed just down the corridor.

“Come on. Zip up your pants. We’re going.”

Javi opened his mouth to argue, but closed it again and took his wallet from its spot on the counter and pocketed his keys, following behind his friend’s wife just as she knew he would.

The bar was smoky. Popular with locals and foreigners alike, the drinks were strong and the lights were dim and the music was loud enough that Javi found himself unable to think. He was happy for the break from his thoughts.

Steve and Connie tried to talk over the noise but little of what they said made it to his ears. Javi surveyed the crowd, recognizing a fair number of people, clocking a few of the prostitutes he knew, a few of his CIs, and among them, one pretty woman he’d never seen before. Pretty, short, brunette, smiling and dancing, and looking directly at him.

Javi ashed his cigarette and made a beeline toward her. It was an easy sell. He leaned close so she could hear him offer to buy her a drink from the bar or to make one much better back at his. He flashed his badge, and she took his hand, following him out into the night. In the cab on the way home, he kissed her, asked her if she wanted to come on his fingers or on his face first. She didn’t smell like you, though, didn’t kiss him like you did. She was great, but she wasn’t you. He tried to put you out of his mind.

He tried not to think about you when he sucked her clit hard, when he opened her with two thick fingers and when he guided her onto her knees and gripped the plush, tan flesh of her hips, burying his condom-wrapped cock deep in her pussy that didn’t quite fit him like yours did. He held back, not pounding her as hard or as fast as he would with you. He held her after she came on him with a pretty cry of his name, but the fun was over.

“I’ll call you,” Javi promised at the doorway as you gathered your purse and coat, leaving soon in the cab he called for you.

“No you won’t,” she laughed and kissed him goodbye.

Even if he knew she was right, the rejection stung a little, it hung in the air as he watched her climb into the yellow car. Regret crept up his neck.

Javi showered, body loose and tired under the hot water, he soaped himself, rinsed, and brushed his teeth. He put on the cleanest boxers he had left and turned out the lights.

Before he could get into his bed, before he could throw an old tshirt over the damp spot on his sheets, he heard another knock on his door.

“Fuck me.”

It was well after one in the morning, and if Steve was here to bust his balls over leaving early to get laid, he might deck him. His right hand was curled preemptively into a fist when he opened the door, but he quickly dropped it when he saw you, standing there, smiling, bottle of whiskey in your hand.

[foursaints]

Scoliosis evan is soooo canon to me that boy has uneven hipbones and back pain like crazy while barty over here kissing down his curved spine like an addicted man

bangs gavel. no exactly you understand me… i think completely outside of the scoliosis i picture evan as built sort of weird in general. he’s gorgeous but also resembles a spindly little bug or a decaying ball-joint china doll with slightly mismatched limbs and he is constantly suffering old man aches and pains… barty is getting him a hot water bottle 6 times a day (and only salivating a little. ooogh mr rosier do you need me to carry you up the stairs?)

[halfwit-halfblood]

Safe — xavier thorpe

Part 1. More parts to come!

Pairings: Xavier Thorpe x reader (No use of Y/N, gender neutral) Summary: Xavier helps you deal with the stress of Parents Day Word count: 2k Warnings: Mentions of bad family relationships, anxiety

A/N: not sure how i feel about this so feedback is appreciated!! also i have no idea what a semester is or how long they are. don’t talk about it 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Here you go,” Xavier said, placing a steaming takeaway cup in front of you. “Extra sweet to counter how sour you are.”

You placed a mocking hand against your chest. “You always say the nicest things, Xav.” A slow grin took over his face as he sat opposite you in the library, placing his own cup to the side and pulling out his sketchbook.

Over the past month you had established a routine with each other that, in the beginning, had taken you by surprise; once classes were done for the day, every Tuesday and Wednesday you would meet by the school gates and amble down to Jericho to study and talk in the relative quiet of the town library over drinks from the Weathervane. Originally you had become friends thanks to the mere convenience of having the same class schedule, but over time something about you just clicked, and now these new habits fit you like a glove.

“That doesn’t look like Professor Crudwell’s thaumaturgy assignment.” You chastised.

“I’m not the one who needs to worry about my grade for it.” He hit back playfully.

“Low blow, Thorpe.” The chair creaked loudly as you moved to take a generous sip of your hot chocolate, earning you a glare from the librarian from across the room.

While you never wanted to bother the barista for extra syrup in your drink – a side effect of your scrupulous family who enforced the idea of never asking for anything more than you were given to the highest degree – Xavier had no issue with it and had recently taken to ordering for you to satisfy your extreme sweet tooth.

In this instance, he was right about the grade. Being of the psychic variety of outcast, Xavier had no problem with magical acts. For a fire sprite like yourself, wonderworking was a more arduous task that could often only be made better by the company that currently sat scribbling away opposite you.

“What are you working on?”

“A new mural.” He answered, pausing briefly to spin his sketchbook in your direction. “Miss Weems wanted a draft ready to show at Parents Day.”

The drink turned sour and heavy in your stomach. “Parents Day?” Nevermore had only been your home for one semester, having transferred at what would’ve been the start of your Junior year, and so a lot of the particulars about various Nevermore events and customs were foreign to you. Parents Day was, of course, a self-explanatory title, but you needed confirmation like a coffin needs a body.

Xavier paused and frowned at you. “Nobody told you about it?” You shook your head mutely. “Nevermore invites everyone’s families to campus for the weekend. Helps make the school look good, I guess. I never really got the point of it.” His voice was barely concealed resentment. While the details of the school itself often passed you by, the gossip never had. His father was an automatic taboo subject, which lent itself just fine to your friendship as you quite liked having the same restrictions applied to talk of your own family.

“When is it?”

“This weekend. They’ll all be here Saturday morning.” He said softly. As an artist he was used to noticing details. He could sense the tension in your voice, see the way this news pulled your expression taut and pale. Knuckles white against the curve of your cup. Something we’ve got in common, he thought sadly. “You alright?”

“I, um…” Anxiety swelled in your throat, forcing your words back into your chest where they jostled and multiplied. “I have to go.” Numbly you packed away your textbook and fled the library while Xavier called your name, pleading at you to wait. The door banged shut behind you like a gavel before he even had the chance to stand.

+

Was anything worse than feeling alone in a crowded room? You wondered. It was an anchor in your chest, a tight pinch across your skin like your heartache was too big to be contained under such fragile skin. Students rushed around the school gates as banners were erected and the first families started trickling their way in. All around you was a frenzied buzz of excitement and community and for a moment you felt suspended from your body, watching the scene from above; everyone moved in double time as the world carried on, and in amidst all the excitement there you stood, isolated.

You slunk through the shadows to the quiet areas of the school, letting the noise drift softly up through cracked open windows and wide balconies where it settled around you like a fog. Eventually you came to the quad balcony to find Miss Weems hosting the welcoming ceremony. You were keen not to be spotted by her or your parents if they had already arrived and watched the proceedings from one of the shadowed archways that led to the covered balcony.

Applause rung out as Miss Weems concluded her speech and families were free to enjoy the school in its entirety. “Hey stranger.” You jumped and spun around to source the voice, finding Xavier stood in the hallway behind you. “You been avoiding me?” He asked, hands in his pockets as he walked slowly past you to the balcony outside.

“No.” A single raised eyebrow was your response. “I promise.” You added sincerely. It was hard to blame him for the assumption while your phone burned a hole in your pocket, his unanswered texts piled in your inbox like a physical weight you felt keenly. The solitude you’d settled into the past few days was unpleasantly familiar. Once, it was a preference. But life at Nevermore had shifted your expectations of what peace was – where it was once silence and a locked door, it was now the boy in front of you: his laughter and the taste of chocolate on your tongue.

“So, you’ve been avoiding,” he gestured to the crowd gathered in the courtyard below. “everyone?”

“Trying to.” He nodded and returned to watching the hive of activity, tapping his fingers on the banister.

There was a magnet hooked in your stomach. Two opposite forces stood in front of you, and while Xavier’s mind wandered you tried to decide which was stronger. The repellent that was your family with their pursed mouths and disapproving eyes, or the attraction that was Xavier’s presence and the way words came easier around him.

For a moment, the attraction won. You crossed the distance to stand next to him stiffly, body coiled like prey alert to its predator awaiting the right moment to flee. The quad had become a chaotic mess of mismatched tables pulled out of classrooms and forgotten closets, voices yelling over one another as six months’ worth of news and gossip was relayed, the unsavoury stench of red meat and chilled blood was unavoidable as food was distributed, and – victoriously – there was no sight of your parents. You let out a shaky breath and let yourself relax a touch.

“What brand of shitty are your parents then?” Xavier asked after a few minutes of companionable silence.

“The kind that made me beg Miss Weems not to let them in here.” After you ran out on Xavier three days ago, you had fled straight to Miss Weems and pleaded for her to bar your parents from the school this weekend. She patiently explained that she had been in regular contact with your family ever since your induction at Nevermore and thought the upcoming weekend would be the perfect time to overcome the past together. But she didn’t know your parents – stubborn, spiteful. Not once had they backed down from a fight and you knew that this time would be no different. Fortunately – or unfortunately, you had yet to truly decide – it was a trait you had inherited.

For the past two days you had paced and panicked enough to wear a groove into your dorm floor, or so your roommate had complained, about what to do if they made an appearance. At the same time, your anxiety was working overtime thinking about what Xavier must’ve thought when you ran off so suddenly from the library and how best to explain it to him. Ultimately, the idea didn’t fill you with as much dread as you thought. At the very least you trusted him, but if you were being honest with yourself it was more like you wanted him to know you as much as you craved to know him.

Your eyes skimmed over the gathering once more and a prick of fear in the base of your spine began to steadily work itself upwards. “Looks like I failed.” You said with faux casualness, watching your parents and grandparents walk through the east entrance with undisguised disapproval.

You stepped away from the banister as quickly as possible until their heads dropped out of sight, seeking reassurance from the solidity of the stone wall against your back. Panic seized your chest as your mind relayed the last time you saw your family – an apoplectic argument, a fiery outburst. The smell of smoke and a deafening silence.

Distantly you registered Xavier calling your name. He leaned down and held your arms while you regulated your breathing, tracing soft circles against the fabric of your blazer. “I’m okay.” You said eventually.

“You don’t have to talk to them, you know. We can hide out in my art shed if you want? I promise they won’t find you.” He replied, trying to meet your eye. “I have snacks.” At that your mouth twitched into a half smile.

“Anything sweet?”

“As if you even have to ask.”

Once you nodded your approval Xavier wasted no time in leading you through empty hallways towards the back of the school where the forest sprawled out endlessly, happy to let you walk quietly while you came to terms with the fact your family actually showed up to the school they vilified so often.

As you were circling around the quad to reach the other side, footsteps echoed from an adjoining corridor that connected to the outdoor space. You both paused, wondering if you should hide or hurry past as their shadows grew longer in the early afternoon sunlight.

“Well with not a single text or call this entire semester, we’re expecting perfect grades across all subjects.” The voice was clipped and stern – all sharp edges and callous undertones. The past six months had done nothing to dull your memories of the countless times you’d gone to war with that condescending tone, letting your mother’s words sink under your skin like something black and rotten.

Xavier glanced between your frozen figure and the intersection where your family would soon appear. In seconds he had grabbed your wrist and pulled you into an alcove to hide in the shadows of one of the many alumni statues, his chest against your back and his palm against your mouth.    

The sudden movement cast you from your memories and threw you back into the present moment, the warmth of his skin as he drew you further from your parents and into the darkness where they couldn’t find you. When they finally rounded the corner your breath hitched involuntarily, muffled by Xavier’s hand while his other came to rest on your shoulder; a comforting weight to keep you grounded.

“I assure you they’ve been doing their very best, it’s been a challenging year but –“ Miss Weems began.

Your father scoffed. “Challenging. Yeah, right. That’s an excuse for slacking off, believe me. Lazy. Disruptive. Demented – that’s all our child is.” You swallowed roughly as tears blinked their way free across your cheeks. The tight feeling that had plagued you over the summer returned in full force. I made one mistake! One! You wanted to scream at them. The fear and injustice pulsing through your veins left you shaking. Panic burned a path to your heart as your brain fought to maintain control, the absolute last thing you needed now was an unwarranted fire to prove their every criticism.

“I do hope we’ll be receiving an apology this weekend, Larissa. We were counting on you to teach some respect.”

“Perhaps we can all sit down for a chat in my office this afternoon? Once we’ve ah… located your bright little spark, that is.”

“I hope you’ve got extinguishers on hand, that’s all I say.” Ultimately, her final comment was one of the least openly malicious things your mother had said this past year, and yet the scar it left bled as strong and true as the rest. As their footsteps faded away the anxious energy fled your body with such a force that you slumped unceremoniously into Xavier. The hand resting on your shoulder reached across your chest and pulled you closer, the other leaving your mouth to do the same, cradling you within the bracket of his arms while your tears fell silently, and the footsteps faded into the distance.

The ocean rushed in your ears, urging you beneath the surface; his quiet reassurances anchored you to the shore.

They’re gone.

You’re safe.

I’m here.

I promise.

Safe. Safe. Safe.

Together you stood, bodies entwined, long after the corridor fell silent.

[cuffmeinblack]

Garreth Weasley x f!OC

Tags: explicit | friends to lovers | dark themes | trauma

Chapters 5 & 6

Garreth was placed on a chair in the middle of the circular room, his shackles secured to the floor to prevent escape—as if he could ever think of doing so, unarmed and exhausted as he was. He had to crane his neck to meet his accuser—the Minister of Magic himself. He sat surrounded by his subordinates, prim and proper and exuding power.  “Garreth…,” a small voice said from behind him.  He couldn’t turn his head enough to see her, but he recognised the gentleness, contorted with pain. “Mum?”  A sob met his ears and Garreth felt hot tears slide down his own cheeks. Any hope of a reunion was dashed when the Minister banged a gavel from his podium, calling to order the Wizengamot. As if cursed to obey, every single member fell silent, still, waiting.  Garreth hardly heard much of what followed in the prosecution’s opening statement. He caught odd words here and there amongst his spiralling thoughts: murder, premeditated, heinous. When the defence had their say, his own legal representative seemed apprehensive to say much of anything on his behalf.

[witchthewriter]

𝑴𝒂𝒄𝑮𝒚𝒗𝒆𝒓 & 𝑾𝒐𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒃𝒐𝒚: 𝑨 𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝑺𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒚 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐄𝐍

Paid story for @alohomorasomnium. Word Count: 3k Warnings: swears, implied past domestic violence/abuse (slight details), stalking

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ | ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ ᴵᴵ

DALTON.

*Last Night*

It was easy getting them drunk. The key was looking as if you were keeping up, as if you were drinking just as much. Brad was easier to fool, even though he was bigger than Riley; both taller and muscular. But Riley had a lot more going on in his head, he just wanted to prove himself – which always brought a man’s self-confidence down. No matter what.

  I knew these two would be the perfect lackies. One with no brains, and the other so desperate to fit in that he would do anything… But I’d have to work my way up to that first.

  Because first, I needed to make Riley feel as though he had a friend, a true friend.

“How you going?” Dalton said, leaning against the bar, Riley was awkwardly bopping his head to the music, beer in hand.

   “Huh? Oh, yeah yeah, really good-“ Riley gave a tight-lipped smile and took another sip of his beer. It was lukewarm now.

   “Wanna get outta here?” Dalton asked, bumping his shoulder against the smaller man.

“And go where?” Riley asked, eyes glued to the dancefloor, to where Brad was dancing with two women. The only two women who were attractive. The rest of the bar was half-full of twenty-somethings who had finished work.

  It was the closest bar, an hour out of Charming. They’d have to drive at least another hour to find a proper club.

   When one of the girls grabbed onto Brad’s hand and started leading him off the dancefloor, Riley sculled the last of his beer and nodded his head.

   “Yeah, lets go-“

KAELIE.

After an hour and a half of riding, Opie’s phone started to buzz. You knew, because you could feel the vibrations from his back pocket against your thigh.

   You knew you couldn’t pull it out, because even if either of you could press the phone against your ear, you wouldn’’t be able to hear the person on the other end.

 So, you let it ring out, the vibrating becoming more and more awkward as it continued on. And god, it wouldn’t let up. It made your stomach clench; it must be important. Very important.

  It had to be about Dalton.

He’d done something, he had to have, for the phone to still be ringing, every ten minutes.

  You had no idea how much longer you were going to be on the road for, but you knew next time you’d have to get Opie to keep his phone somewhere else. Because you were trying to daydream, and this was making it impossible to do so.

You weren’t going to sit here and let anxiety take hold of you. You’d had enough of Dalton and his shit. So, you decided to actively change what your mind was thinking of.

   You could feel the sweat forming on your scalp, sliding down your temple, over your forehead and it started dripping from your nose. Ew, ew, ew, you thought. Just wanting to get in the shower. You needed to stay in there and scrub yourself. God, you wished you could’ve brought all of your toiletries, but only a toothbrush, toothpaste and some make up would fit.

JAX.

 The gavel banged and the Sons left the meeting.

Half-sack was behind the bar, wiping down the bench and nodded at each of the men as they walked past.

   “You’re with us,” Clay barked at the Prospect, and he practically dropped the cloth.

Outside, Jax walked past Clay, and climbed onto his bike. He watched as Clay got onto his own, clipped on his helmet, revved his bike, and rode off. Tig, Bobby, Juice and Half-sack followed him, Tig blowing them kisses as he went.

   They were going to meet with Zobelle, see what he was about. What he had to say.

Jax and Chibs had other orders.

    “Ye right Jackie?” Chibs called out, sliding on his sunglasses and leather gloves. The sun beat down on them, hot and unyielding.

“Yeah, all good,” Jax replied back, turning on his bike and kicking the little stand into place. He waited until Chibs’ bike was rumbling to leave, and off they went.

  By the time they reached Opie’s place, both of them were soaked through. Though neither would take off their kutte. They hadn’t even thought about it. And yet, Jax still wore his long jeans, as Chibs wore long pants as well.

This was the first-time any of the Sons had visited Opie’s house without him there. It felt weird, or maybe it just felt weird not to have Opie in town. He had grown up there, hadn’t vacationed in another country, or even another state. Even his honeymoon with Donna wasn’t too far from town.

So, it was very odd to see that the windows had been closed, the shutters down, curtains blocking anyone’s view from the outside. Even when Opie left the house, everything was open. He even left the door unlocked. (Which had freaked you out when you first started staying with him. But he explained that everyone knew it was his place. And then you explained Dalton and … he started locking everything.)

   As the two men walked up the front steps, Jax with Opie’s mail in his back pocket, had found the spare key underneath a withered pot plant, and opened the door. Opie had told him where the key was hidden – a new one that was cut only days before you both left.

Opening the door, Jax’s attention was drawn instantly to the floor, to an envelope.

 It didn’t say who it was from, but both already knew.

The yellow A3 envelope contained photos of Kaelie and Opie leaving, but more annoyingly, of the Prospect who had been trailing Dalton as well.

    “Well, that fucker is pretty good,” Chibs said as he closed the door and took a look at the photos. “Hell, Opie looks the most happy since Donna …” The Scotsman raised his brows and blinked slowly, and then looked at Jax, who just nodded.

 “That’s why I want to nail this guy. When he’s gone, Opie and Kaelie can come back. It’s what Ope deserves, after everything.”

OPIE.

All this shit with Kaelie had to stop at some point, and they would return to Charming. But for now, Opie wanted to give her some good experiences. Make a few great memories.

It was why they arrived at one of the nicest places he had stayed. With Donna. But he wasn’t going to tell Kaelie that.

  Opie could hear your voice, the awe at the large cottage. It was a bed and breakfast, a nice one too. Opie didn’t mind spending a bit more for the night, unbeknownst to him that you would pay for this one as soon as you had the chance to.

The driveway was large and had a parking lot beside the house. This time of year it wouldn’t be too busy, with people wanting to visit the beach rather than a cottage not too far from the city.

  You practically leapt from the bike, almost hurting yourself as you unclipped the stupid helmet and quickly fixed your damp hair. Once you had slung your back over your back and tied up your hair, you were glad to follow Ope into the cosy house.

  There was a large porch, with a swinging chair, and vines that seemingly wrapped and grew around every part of the house. There were bushes with flowers and gnomes that stood proudly in front of the lush garden.

   “It’s beautiful,” you said as you stood beside Opie, there was a large bell mounted beside the front door, which said ‘open,’ in pretty dainty script across the glass.

Opie opened the door and let you walk in first, and you groaned in appreciation. The air conditioner was on and stood in the middle of the room, letting the air blast you. Minutes passed as Opie checked the both of you in and asked for one bed.

There was one flight of stairs and the lovely lady from the desk, who must also be the owner, unlocked the room and handed over the key.

   Inside was breathtaking. There was a four-poster bed, with a large window overlooking the forest (luckily not the parking lot), the sunlight filtered through the window. But it didn’t heat up the room, there was a thermostat on the wall next to the door. You smiled. A giddy feeling in your stomach, and then you walked past the desk that had a mirror and you frowned.

   “I’m taking a shower,” you announced and Opie nodded, a small smile forming.

You walked into the ensuite and nearly gasped. There was actual shampoo and conditioner, proper body wash and fresh towels. In a flash, you shut the door, kicked off your shoes and undressed.

While you were in the bathroom, Opie pulled out his phone and pressed a few buttons. Within three rings, the other person answered it.

   “Hey,” Jax answered, “where are you guys? How are you guys.”

“We’re just past Lodi now, a few hours from town. I can tell Kaelie’s getting restless.”

 Opie kicked off his large boots and sat on the bed as he listened to Jax talk.

     “You guys are gonna have to come home at some point, and I have an idea-“ Off came Opie’s socks and kutte. He leaned back on the bed.

“So, you’re gonna need some leverage. And don’t worry Ope, this guy is majorly fucked up. Unser’s found some shit on him. But I thought you could find something, especially with Kaelie’s help. You’ll be able to come home.”

  “Yeah, we can do that. And I’m not surprised he’s done some fucked up shit. Any way Unser can use his actual badge and arrest this guy?” Stifling a yawn, Opie rubbed at one of his eyes.

“He needs evidence, but the right kind, and Dalton might be locked up for a while.”

Opie’s eyebrows rose, but eyes felt heavy, “shit, that’s some good news.”

   “Yeah it is, but you need to start looking. Get to a computer and look him up, maybe there’s an old report on him.”

   “Got it,” Opie said and yawned.

“I’m gonna have to go,” Jax said, another voice coming from his end, “look, I love you Ope, be safe.” And he hung up.

  That’s all Opie registered before he fell asleep.

GEMMA.

The day was hot and yet Gemma still wore her usual black. It was gonna be somebody’s funeral, she swore as she walked up the steps to the local library.

She shifted her large handbag as she walked into the airconned building. Sweat slid down her chest, and her irritability rose.

   “Hey,” she said at the empty front desk. Not caring that there were other people in the building. She fucking hated libraries. It wasn’t the books, no, she liked reading. It was the fucking audacity of the librarians coming to press their fingers against their lips and shoosh her. It happened from her childhood to the day she didn’t have to go to the fucking library anymore.

  A middle-aged woman with greying hair came out from the back. A stack of books in her hands, she hurried to the desk and smiled. “How can I help you?”

   “You got a computer?”

“Oh, yes we have a few. It’s five dollars for twenty minutes.” The woman didn’t look like a normal librarian, no pursed lips or narrowed eyes.

   “Ugh thought libraries were supposed to be free or somethin’,” Gemma scoffed, rifling through her bag to find her purse. But she hadn’t noticed how her voice had quietened.

“I know, I hate having to say that. The library is the only place you’re not expected to buy anything. But the computers are new and I don’t know I have to charge you honey,” she shrugged her shoulders empathetically.

Handing over the money, the librarian beckoned her to follow as she walked to the other end of the building. There were rows and rows of books, and then they came to an area with five computers, two of them were occupied.

   “Thanks,” Gemma said as the lady pulled out the chair, nodded and walked off.

Gemma sat down on the plastic chair and took out her glasses and a piece of folded paper with Dalton’s full name, date of birth and old childhood address. She typed it into the search bar and clicked enter.

KAELIE.

The shower was more than pleasant. The pressure was perfect; you were in there for forty-five minutes.

  Stepping out and wrapping the towel around yourself, you squeezed the excess water from your hair, dried yourself and re-dressed. Wiping a hand over the fogged mirror, you stared at yourself for a few moments. There seemed to be a sunkissed glow from your face and neck, and you spotted a few more freckles. Those hours riding in the sun did more than just make you sweaty and give you a sore back.

   You french-braided your hair and walked into the bedroom. Even the carpet felt nicer than the motel’s. It felt … plusher. Wiggling your toes, you opened your mouth and then heard a very small snore coming from the bed.

   Tilting your head to the side, you put your glasses on and took a few steps. The giant form of Opie lay half on the bed, his feet still on the ground. But he was too far into dreamland to bother to move.

   “Hmm,” you said and walked over to him.

Opie Winston looked so much younger when he was asleep. Even with the beard. There was an innate serenity that seemed to emanate from him, especially when he was asleep. Like it was radiating from him.

  You noticed his kutte and picked it up. It had some weight to it, unexpectedly. You moved it to the chair, displaying it, giving it its own seat.

   Then you moved his boots and tucked his socks inside them. You hadn’t thought of how exhausted he must be, and chastised yourself for it.

   “Hey,” you said lightly. You thought about moving his legs around but decided against it, thinking of possible injury.

  He didn’t move, so you lightly shook him.

“Yea-huh?” Opie said groggily, and blinked slowly.

     “You fell asleep like this, do you want to get into a more comfortable position?” You whispered, trying to keep Opie as …sleepy as possible.

   “What? Oh, I fell asleep?” He said starting to sit up.

“No no, lay back down, everything’s okay. Just move up,” you leant down and gently grasped his legs, and he understood.

   “Thanks,” he said with a yawn and did as you said.

Smiling as he nestled on his side, you went over to your bag to get out a book.

DALTON.

It had to be apart of the plot for me to look hungover, so I didn’t comb my hair as usual and rubbed my eyes before walking into the break room. It was empty except for Riley, who looked green and was slumped over in his chair.

   “I feel fucking terrible,” I announced as I walked in and plunked down on the seat closest to Riley. His eyes shot to me and the movement seemed to upset him more.

 “You don’t look that bad,” he remarked, and I heard his stomach gurgle. Lightweight, I wanted to bark at him. They had left the bar well before one am, and Riley had been babbling about how much he hated Brad, hated his mother and … his life. God, he was going to be an easy target.

It was then that Brad walked in, a swagger in his steps, “morning gentlemen,” he said with a smirk. His blonde hair was as windsept as always, and as loaded with hairspray as always.

  I heard Riley make a slight noise, almost like a whimper, and he ran out of the room, clutching his stomach.

    “Oh shit,” Brad said, and took Riley’s seat, “he doesn’t look good.” The words were said without concern and with slight amusement.

“He said he drank,” I murmured, squinting. Brad only grunted, and sat back, that smirk still on his face. Okay, I’ll bite.

    “Where’d you end up?” I asked, taking a sip out of my water bottle.

“Those two chicks I left with? Yeah, went back to one of their places and we fucked,” he said shamelessly.

   This fucking guy.

“No shit, wow, I’m impressed,” I put as much pep as I could muster into my reply. What a fucking liar, he saw him get back in his car and leave from the window.

  “Yeah, I think one was a virgin,” he coughed, and nodded. As soon as Peter walked in he sat up straight.

   “Morning ho- where’s Riley?” Peter started then stopped, his eyes flickering between Brad and I.

GEMMA.

 ‘This kid is fucking insane,’ Gemma mumbled, scrolling through the article she’d found.

It had taken a half-hour to find something solid, but she had found it, nonetheless. Unser had given her the dates and names of people, places, and towns – and she nearly jumped from her chair when she everything corroborated.

After reading that article, it didn’t take long for another one to stand out. One had truly horrified Gemma.

It was a fire. A deadly one.

  Three people had perished in the fire. Well, two people and a baby.

The source of the fire couldn’t be found, but police say it had been purposefully lit. The whole house had burned, utterly and completely, to the ground. The sole survivor was the foster teen who was unnamed for safety reasons.

   “Could he be in the Juvenile records?,” Gemma asked herself, taking off her glasses and leaning back in the chair.

She crossed her arms and closed her eyes. There was a dirty feeling, like oil in the pit of her stomach, or like a thousand eyes were staring at her bare body.

  ‘God, a baby,’ Gemma thought, and her mouth went dry.

[cinnamunspice]

(Antagonist!Thad Ask; Thad's not his normal self here.) @ Theo

"You must be sooo happy. You've got a nice little life with a family, a girlfriend that you love, and friends! You don't even have to worry about being a vigilante or a villain!" Thad laughs but it rings hollow, "But how long will all of that last until you fuck it all up? You're a Thawne, Theo. A real Thawne unlike your precious sister, Bea. You know deep down this nice quiet life isn't going to last, right? You're just going to ruin everything because that's what Thawne's do. Because that was what you were made to do. And no matter what you can't escape that no matter how happy you become. No matter how many connections you make. You can't fight the inevitable. You'll ruin everything around you because that is truly all you'll ever be good for."

unprompted // always accepting !

She had a nightmare like this, once. Not this exact scenario, but the eyes of someone just like her, a mirrored image that moved infinite, like endless mirrors, beyond her. Her own voice confirming what she feared, the worst of, that she was undeserving of her own happiness. Bang the gavel! Let the jury decide what to do with her! Instead, what awaited her was a sentence. Every choice she'd made in life, she would have to repeat, and repeat, and repeat, and watch as the timeline branched off into millions of different directions, and then face her now, to condemn her an eternity's sentence once again.

Choice, was meaningless. Your purpose, was meaningless in the vast emptiness of the universe. Time was so feeble, so flexible, it stretched out in front of her like a highway. She was a car that spun her wheels, but no motion took place.

Guilty! Guilty! Guilty!

Theodora Thawne stood there, not a blonde hair out of place, neatly straightened in a line behind her. Face perfect. No blemishes to be found. Skin soft, little to no hair where it did not belong on her body. Her dress was ironed, pressed, and muted yellows that matched her hair made her fair skin look even more pale in the sunlight. Theodora's nose was perched high, and the glare that graced her normally relaxed features was intense.

"Your self-loathing and jealousy is duly noted."

She spits, stepping closer to her multiversal counterpart. She tries not to imagine her words as her own sentence in the hall of endless mirrors.

Of course, she knew this quiet life, quitting the costume, trying to go to college, amend for her past mistakes, would never last! How would it? How could she atone for her very existence? Theodora Thawne was a creation, that from the beginning, never deserved a fair shot-- she was created to destroy, to bring things to ruin, and any attempt to otherwise was all just a ruse, a fake. After all, she has proven to be very good at that.

The mask of hers, cracks. Ugly tears messed up her mascara, her cheeks turned hot and red in the face of her anger. It cracked at carefully placed concealer.

An opening for an enemy.

"Don't talk about her, however. My life, my happiness, is my own." She hisses the last part, "Not of my 'precious' sister's doing. " but is that the truth?

[artzychic27]

Back at the Barnyard quotes for no reason

Jean: Hey, folks! Viewer mail time again! *Opens a latter* Here’s one from Sally, age 14. “Dear Jean, aren’t you interrupting the story at the most suspenseful part?” Well, the answer is yes, Sally. Yes, I am. Keep those cards and letters coming!

—

Science Kids: *Dressed in burglary gear and relaxing on a massage chair when Jagged Stone suddenly walks in* Jagged Stone?!

Jagged Stone: Yeah, I’m Jagged Stone. What are you all doing in my house?

Science Kids: … Robbing it.

—

Simon: All rise! Court is now in session! The honorable Judge Marc presiding!

Marc: *Sits at the desk and immediately bangs the gavel* Guilty! Now let’s get to the punishment!

Alya: You haven’t heard any evidence yet!

Marc: I don’t need evidence! I can tell she did it by her beady little eyes!

Marinette: *Nervously shifting her eyes*

Marc: But, if you’re gonna make a big deal about it… Prosecutor, proceed!

—

Austin Q: Hey, Denise. Can I teach you the dance of love?

Denise: Is one of the steps my foot on your neck? ‘Cause there’s a dance I could really enjoy.

Austin Q: Ooh! Shot down! *Backs away*

—

Simon: Hm. I guess stupid is contagious.

—

Cosette: We gotta ditch the body! He knows too much! We gotta take care of him!… We gotta whack him.

Aurore: There will be no whacking! Okay, Ivan’s a good guy.

Mireille: And he’s a vegan. God bless him.

Ismael: And, uh… What’s a vegan again?

Lacey: Ah, I got it. It means you can’t eat anything with a face.

Jean: No, no, that’s a vegetarian.

Cosette: I think vegetarians have to eat in the dark.

Reshma: That’s vampires.

Lacey: And, you can’t eat cheese?

Reshma: It’s not just cheese. Vegans can’t have any dairy products.

*Aurore silently freaks out when she notices Ivan starting to wake up, but the others are oblivious*

Denise: Cake has egg products.

Simon: But you can’t have any dairy.

Ismael: Aw, but I love dairy! Does that mean I can’t be a vegan?

Marc: I love the smell of bacon! There, I said it!

*Ivan wakes up, and the students gasp*

Ivan: Huh? What’s- *Denise kicks him in the head, effectively knocking him out*

Aurore: WOULD YOU NOT DO THAT?!

Denise: It’s not like we have a lot of options.

—

Aurore: We gotta snap him out of this. Okay, Jean’s family. He’s like the crazy uncle we never had.

Cosette: Uh… Right… I never had a crazy uncle…

*Flashback*

*Five year old Cosette is listening to their crazy uncle speak utter nonsense*

Crazy Uncle: The Easter bunny has betrayed me! We’ll have to close the beaches! You can’t close the beaches, we’re a summer town! Get these turtles outta my head, PLEASE! Aaand, linge! *Starts line dancing while scatting* Dah Dah! Yah Doo! Dah Dah!

*End flashback*

Cosette: *Shudders*

—

Denise: *As four Akumas stalk toward them* Well, well. Whatever will I do? *Drop kicks all of them without moving from their spot*

—

Kim: I prechewed it so you wouldn't waste jaw energy.

Adrien: ... So the sandwich in my mouth was previously in your mouth?

Kim: Nice taste, eh?

—

Adrien: Hey, anybody ever notice that Ladybug and Marinette are never together at the same time?

Alya: You're really 31 flavors of dumb, aren't you?

—

Shadow Moth: Hey! Who's there?

Ladybug: Your worst nightmare.

Chat Noir: And Chat Noir!

—

Austin A: No, I don't wanna get eaten, I'm too young! Too young!

Austin B: Dude, you're not gonna get eaten.

Austin A: What, you're saying I wouldn't go nice with some low-fat chips and a cherry cola?

—

Ismael: *To Bubbler* You got rid of the only people standing between us and shallow graves so we can celebrate the day this guy *Points to Adrien* came into the Earth?

—

Nathaniel: *Whispering* Whatever you do, do not eat the... *everyone runs and eats Louis' mini pizzas* ... All right. I guess they're all right.

Louis: I hope you like them. I made them with love... and flaming hot chili sauce! *All of the students start screaming as they try to cool their tongues down*

Marc: *Completely calm and eating another mini pizza* Man, you guys are lightweights.

—

Aurore: I don't buy it. There's no way Marinette pushed Lila down the stairs. Come on, let's go solve the case of the pushed Italian.

Denise: I don't know, Aurore. That's really going to cut into my weight-lifting time.

Aurore: I'll bring snacks.

Denise: I'm in!

—

Alix: *After Louis leaves* He's gone, but you can still smell the stupid.

—

Alix: Hey, what did you use in that energy drink?

Marinette: Milk.

Max: Vitamins.

Rose: Love.

Alix: And...?

Kim: And these pepper shakers. *Holds up a stick of dynamite*

Alix: That's not pepper, that's dynamite!

[cowboy-robooty]

Love your HCs <3!!! And your art!!!!!!!! Le Question: is Romano 99.99999% straight like Veneziano? What's his sexuality journey like? If you don't mind sharing your thoughts. Is it as weird as Veneziano's pre school BF then pussy for a millennium. Thank youu

FIRST) THANK YOUU MANAJW i always feel surprised when i remember it isnt just me and my 3 friends on da world wide web that like my stuff <:') ARIGATO! FROM ME! *points at me* TO YOU! *points at you*

Anyways now SECOND) i think romano knows he likes girls and actually is nice to them and tries to rizz them its just hes cringe fail so i actually think hes a total virgin whos never dated anyone ever bc hes so aids. i think he doesnt really see guys as an option not because of sexuality but more because hes too busy trying to catch a girl he aint even got TIME to think about other fish types we go one type at a time. like when he goes i would never date anyone in the g8 its not because theyre boys its because "theyre stupid and annoying and ugly and should kill themselves and one of them is my fucking brother" romano is a boy kisser its just that never gets addressed because he hates all the men around him too much. i also think he kinda likes the idea of a girl more than actually dating a girl because 1) he doesnt take into account that girls actually can fart (60% why he thinks theyre so angelic and wunderbar) and 2) he desperately wants to be popular asf like italy so hes like ITALY BANGS CHICKS EVERYDAY SO OBVIOUSLY THERES GOTTA BE SOME SECRET SAUCE IN THERE. but i think he never in his life ends up dating a girl because they all reject his ass bc he fumbles so hard and then prussia activates his yandere gene and he gets loyal asf (but still demented and terrible. basically nothing changes other than him no longer hitting on girls) so woooooo I THINK THE LABLE HE USES IS "normal" (he is anything except normal)

*read tags if u wanna see why i changed my mind. actually romano uses da lable

**drumrolllllll**

BISEXUAL! **judge gavel slams down**

SENTENCE: 10 THOUSAND HOT POCKETS!

[dimensionhoppinghybrids]

The truth behind the lies. End.

Previous part here

------

The tense atmosphere in the court hall was heavy and oppressive. Joseph had submitted his evidence, which were documents and photos to the court and the judge, an Octillery of all things, before the court had begun. He had made sure that all of his evidence was correct and even included a picture of the pictures. He didn’t show the contents directly, believing it was unnecessary. The Arcanine chief of police would back him up on that later, and he was all the glad for it.

The next hours started as a battle of whits and patience for Joseph as all of his evidence was brought one by one and challenged, discussed, and in some attempts, they tried to refute them.

Evidence he had gathered from current prisoners, unstable individuals, what have you. But Joseph fought fiercely and with determination.

“Those kids lashed out. Those kids were hurting. And like any other government body, they slipped through your cracks when they needed help. Call them what you will, but they were just kids. Hurt, afraid, and pushed aside. How else do you expect them to have survived?” Sneered Joseph as he stared at one of the officials, and the judge banged on his gavel.

“Order! I will have order!” the Judge snapped as the murmur of the crowd managed to get a bit too loud. “Do not make me hold you in contempt of court. I do not care how much your reputation proceeds you sir Valkyrie, you will obey my laws in this hall, or I will have you thrown out. Understood?” He asked with a severe look.

Joseph could only give a stiff nod and he hoped that his backups for securing the evidence would hold out.

Thankfully, they did.

There were some in the guild that knew where this could go if found true, and they were concerned. Specifically the higher ups. Not all, just some in particular that knew that reputation was everything in the long run, and this would wound them.

The defenses that Joseph had put up were called three things. Aestas Bellum And Desire. They knew the consequences too. And when they had been filled in on his plans, they hadn’t hesitated to jump in.

If anything got destroyed, there were copies. If it went missing, more copies submitted and put in before it could be considered lost.

The court battle had taken weeks at this point, and everyone had grown tired on coming in after court had been adjourned for the day as it all dragged out, day by day.

It became a hot topic in the press as evidence after evidence was brought up, argued and brought up in further detail.

Bunny had been questioned, along with her therapist. A few other witnesses, kids from Ruric’s past had been asked to come in too. Those that had survived to this day? All so happy to see him again, calling out to him, and admitting to calling him; “He’s. He’s our hero.” One Linoone, one scarred at her front legs from self inflicted wounds on her person. Her fur disheveled and a bit ratty. She had been in an institution due to her self harming tendencies, and her severe social anxiety and depression. She hugged around her tail, shivering like a leaf in a storm as she bravely tried to go on. Joseph didn’t rush her. He stood well away, giving her a simple, encouraging smile. Tears streamed down her face as she described, just a little, of what Granbull would do to them, but she stopped, her voice failing her after a few very horrible sentences. “He promised us.. He promised.. It would all be worth it.” She whimpered. “But, but.. I didn’t I..” And she started to cry deep and heavy sobs.

Joseph couldn’t take it, and he rushed to help her down and out. She shivered from his touch, wanting to run away and flee. Not to be here anymore, but Joseph didn’t linger on long and she ran away to her own therapist, who could only try not to hug her patient.

A few others repeated a similar situation. They’d lose their composure and they would need to walk away, unable to bear it.

That alone stacked things in favor for Joseph. As much as he hated it, he knew it was good for his side of this argument, and all of those injured souls, even hurting so much, had tried their best to help Ruric and his friends. Because, as much as they were hurting, Ruric now needed their help, and they had come when needed.

After the third week, when the pictures of the tin box came into the fold, Joseph was asked; “And where did you find this item with the incriminating evidence inside?” Asked the prosecution, who had to defend this. “I can’t say.” Joseph said, looking at the prosecution and giving a grimace. “What I found there was more then just that. But I can’t say what, because i fear that those with ill intent will want to find it, and take what isn’t theirs.” He said, and the prosecution pushed on this, like he knew they would.

“And what is it that they would want to find?” Joseph gave just a simple stare. Debating on how to phrase this right, as he had to answer truthfully. “What was rightfully earned. Earned by trial of combat.” It was the only thing that he could say, but that was enough to make those that supervised the guild and the chief of police take an interest in Joseph.

They could probably guess what he had found, but without a location or a proper description, it was only baseless theories.

Things dragged on a bit more, for one more week they had to wait, and a month after this had all started, the jury had come to a decision. Because in this, the ones running the rescue teams couldn’t make a call, and after hearing all that he head heard, the judge had insisted on it. He was just doing his best to get this all going and keeping things to the facts, and so far, that had happened. Now he just wanted to be done with this.

The jury had had a long discussion and debate, and come to the conclusion that Ruric, of murder, wasn’t guilty.

Joseph was so glad to hear the verdict ring out to everyone in the hall and he heard the cry of cheers as those that had watched on and listened in, and been sympathetic rose in their seats. It had been a hard battle and it had been the most important one of all.

The rest though had been tricky. Those had required plea deals, and Joseph could only fight as much as he could for those to be as fair as possible and not have any hang ups. He wasn’t a lawyer by profession, but this court of jesters was like any other damned court of nobles. Just not as cut throat.

With his moonlighting as a defense attorney over, he cracked his back, and his soul felt tired.

He went to the trio, and gave them all a hug before they would be carted off to their own prisons. They couldn’t stick together, but with the plea deals he managed to wrangle? They’d get good prisons. Not long term ones as he’d seen in so many ways. Where lifers and those that might get the death treatment would stay. No, theirs was a temporary stay, and he hoped he had done all he could for them.

“Be safe you three. Don’t get into any trouble, alright?” He said in a hopeful tone as he saw them off.

He had done all he could, given this all he had.

He was at this point, very tired as he walked away from the jury. It was coming to be spring now, and things were... Finally just done.

He would see them in perhaps... What, a year? Maybe two? He would see, as it depended on good behavior. He smiled to himself, happy with a job well done.

----

A day later, somewhere else---

The newspapers came in, and the rush of news of what had transpired for over a month exploded once more in the news.

The headlines boldly said; “RESCUE TEAM LEADER FOUND GUILTY, TRUST IN RESCUE TEAMS QUESTIONED?”

It was a tabloid of tabloids, drama and rumor, fact mixed with a bit of fiction by the authors of articles set into motion which only made the imagination run even more wild.

Joseph had knowingly opened this flood gate, and he knew that there would be no closing it now.

Any good will or reputation that anyone had for the rescue teams plummeted, and they found themselves in some ways, ridiculed, heckled or shamed. Specifically the leaders, as they had to bear the brunt of this accusation, and scrutiny from those they wanted to protect.

It would be a hard several years, and they would all need to prove themselves for the folly of just one if not a few individuals.

But that was life. Where one made the biggest outcry when a part of the group, then all those in part, would reap the shame that followed.

They only hoped that they could earn the trust they had once had, once more.

END.

[imaginedreamwrite]

Love On The Brain: Part 8

There was a pain that was piercing at the base of your skull, the sharp intensity that had burned from the weight of the men standing at a bench across from yours as a judge turned his boasting gaze from you, one of the singular omega’s in the courtroom, to the series or six alphas you’d been bonded to.

There was silence that was heavy in the air, the tumultuous lack of sound that was, in itself, deafening as the judgement was about to come down.

Before the judge had leaned forward, before he had given his final word, you turned your head to the left and glanced upon the agent who was overseeing the case.

Your eyes had been sorrowful as you stared the beta down; the look of neutrality was impossible to perceive.

The blank stare as they sat a few feet from you with their hands folded in their lap was aggravating, and all you wished to do was scream at them.

You wanted to scream at them until they looked at you, until they looked at your alphas.

“Look at them!” You had wanted to yell and beg, plead with every inch of your resolve. “Don’t do this to them! Don’t do this to me!”

“After deliberation,” the judge had reached for his gavel, and your heart was plummeted into your stomach, “I have decided to allow the dissolution of the pack in question and allot the omega to the original pack-“

“LOOK AT THEM!” You wanted to scream, and you had.

The sound that had come from your mouth was one of instant and searing pain, as if the bond that had been formed was being ripped from your system as if every tie was being severed with a hot spear.

“Please don’t do this!” Your voice was frantic, and it took everything you had to look at them to commit their faces to memory. “Please! Please, I need them! Please!”

Your cries had become silenced by the sound of grinding metal. Your please had been silenced by the horrendous and tainted scorch that consumed the entire courtroom, your alphas and yourself separated by a wall of fire that was creeping closer. You were screaming their names, your eyes frantically searching for a way out of here.

“Please!” The scene before you had morphed again, and you were back in court, in the same courtroom with the same OAD officer and your alphas. “I was trying to defend myself! He was going to assault me!”

There were no other omegas. You were the only omega in a room full of alphas, and their scents were aggravating. Their smells were assaulting you like thick vines crawling up a solid wall, choking the life of every other plant.

“-unhinged-“

You felt the click of metal around your wrists and a rough hand grab your arm.

“-danger to others-“ your hair was grabbed, and your head yanked back, a firm hand wrapping around your throat.

“-vile and pathetic-“

“Take the marks off.” There was a needle rising toward you, the sharp glint of the end catching in the light, and you knew it was sedative. You knew they were going to remove your marks.

And the judge was at the centre of it all, a grim reaper that was handing down your sentence with a pliant smirk on his face.

“Guilty.”

The bang of the gavel had sent a strangled scream through you, and the moment the sound had echoed in your head, you had shot awake.

There were beads of cold sweat rolling down your back, dripping between your shoulders blade, leaving a trail of sickly wetness in its wake, as the stench of your nightmare, of your fear, had permeated throughout the room.

“You’re okay.” Your wide eyes had roamed the room, and it was almost natural to be on edge. It was as if all your senses had made you to the alpha in your room, as if you were so blinded by fear you couldn’t recognize the notes of his scent.

Your fear had made you incapable of identifying him, and as a result, you had reached for the drawer of your nightstand to open it. Your hand had sought one of the few small weapons you had within when he spoke again, and your sense of reason returned.

“You’re okay.” When he had spoken again, you let loose the weapon and closed the drawer again. Your wide eyes had fallen into the image of Bucky sitting in a chair near your bed with his arms crossed over his chest.

He looked ragged, his eyes downcast as he sat there, projecting and casting his scent toward you to calm you.

His hair had been pulled out of his face and tied in a small bun at the nape of his neck, and there were defined bags under his eyes. He had carried the weight of an alpha who was distressed, and you hadn’t felt it until now.

Through the bond, you felt his distress. Through the connection, as new as it was, you felt his misery.

“You had a nightmare-“ Bucky had shifted in the chair he was sitting in, yet he hadn’t approached you.

“Bucky-“

“-I’m sorry. We are all sorry, but I…” he swallowed and looked away, his jaw clenching as his scent had reacted to the guilt, to the remorse and the anxiousness. “I heard you; I felt your distress through the bond, and I…Frank, Jake and I all felt it. He called and Frank….”

“It was about the trial.” You had slowly changed positions, pulling your knees up to your chest and had wrapped your arms around your knees. “Well, the second nightmare was. The first…I was being removed from this pack and given to the original. I was screaming at them all; I just wanted them to look at me, to look at you all.”

“I had nightmares too,” Bucky had cleared his throat and leaned forward with his elbows resting on his knees, “about the omegas we couldn’t save or the ones who were too far gone. I see their faces; I see their broken spirits. Everything that was done to them by people who should’ve kept them safe…I’m not trying to excuse what we did or how we treated you-“

“Can you sit with me? Please?” You had tilted your head, your tired eyes meeting his, and the desperation to feel him was overshadowing your hurt and anger.

“Do you want me to?” Bucky had asked, remaining silent and still, and it wasn’t until you had slid over and lifted the blanket that he had stood from where he sat and moved toward you.

As he moved to sit on the bed, he had gazed at you once more, his blue irises darkening briefly as he had been overcome with conflict.

“I had been convicted guilty.” You had spoken softly, voice barely above a whisper as you conveyed your nightmare into verbals words, detailing all you could for Bucky as he had slowly started to settle beside you, his warmth and his scent, despite still being angered and hurt, offering you some comfort.

“Guilty?” You watched his dark eyebrows becoming furrowed and the hard lines of his frown mirroring his displeasure and confusion.

“The judge had said I was ‘unhinged’ and ‘vile and pathetic.’ The conviction had come, and the strike of the gavel…they had removed the marks. All six were removed forcibly while I was in handcuffs. I could feel the metal as if they were really around my wrists. It felt so real, I thought maybe…it was happening.”

“You should talk to Andy.” Bucky had made the suggestion, his hand reaching for yours as it rested around the front of your shins. “I know you’re angry with us all, but if you talk to him, he could reassure you.”

“I know it wasn’t going to go away just because I was in a pack. I stabbed…” You felt bile rise in your throat, and you had to close your eyes and even out your breathing to prevent yourself from getting sick.

“You were defending yourself.”

“I was also unaccompanied. I was vulnerable. What will the court say about that? I was on the run from the pack I was assigned to. I had…I was-“

“-defending yourself from an alpha who was going to hurt you.” Bucky had shifted closer to you, his fingers weaving in with yours, as he gently pulled your hand away from your leg and returned it to the bed. “You were doing everything you could to keep yourself from being assaulted.”

“Bucky-“ you had slowly relaxed and had returned to a resting position with your back resting against the mattress and your eyes searching his.

“I’m sorry for what I did. I know Ari and Andy are too.” He drew his fingers along the side of your cheek to your jaw. “You really should talk to him if you’re having such vivid nightmares. He could help.”

You bit the inside of your bottom lip and pushed yourself closer to him, allowing him to wrap an arm around your waist and bring you to his chest. You let him rest his chin on the top of your head as he fully embraced you, easing you back into peace and comfort.

“I’m still mad at you.” You muttered, snaking your hands under his shirt to rest against his abdomen.

The office door was closed, yet you had known he was inside working on something. You could have been halfway across the property and know that Andy Barber was throwing himself into work to distract himself from both his emotions and yours.

How long had it been since you had talked to them? Hours? Days?

Time had seemed to pass differently with them here, or maybe it had been all in your head as you tried to navigate your way through this experience. It had to even out. Eventually, it had to settle and yet until it had, you were thrown for a loop.

How much time had passed?

Frank and Bucky were back; Jake and Steve took flights home today. They would all be here in one place, in one home, and you would be amongst them all again, and the reemergence of them all could throw you into another heat.

Andy, Ari and Steve would have their chance to mate and mark you. It was a necessary task to seal your position in the pack and prove to the OAD that this was the right decision. Whether you were in a good place with them had been the big question.

You descended the last few steps and had shuffled toward the door of the office with an oversized sweater, acting more like a dress than not, keeping you safe and giving you the added comfort you would need for this.

You had headed Bucky’s advice; you had come to talk with Andy to quell some of the prevailing nightmares that had left you rattled and anxious.

You approached the door and knocked twice before you lowered your hand and let the sleeves of your sweater obscure and hide your hands in the fleece-lined material. You waited until the door opened, and you were face to face with Andy, your breath hitching in your throat as you saw him, the visceral reaction to a beautiful man.

It was a conflict between how you felt about what happened and how you felt about him. You were drawn to them all; you were taken by every one of them, and yet you had still judged hurt and angered by what they had done, by how they had treated you.

“Honey,” he crooned, and his gaze had softened as it fell on you, “are you okay?”

“I want to say yes,” you had been brought to the point of tears, your throat clenching and the ability to breathe without crying was getting harder the longer you stayed there, “but no. Not really.”

“Have you been sleeping well?” He knew without you having to say anything, and you felt relief by his astute sense of awareness.

You shook your head and lifted your sleeve-covered hand to your face, your fingers wiping the few salty tears before they had rolled too far down your cheeks.

You had sniffled and then cleared your throat, your mind struggling to communicate with your tongue to get what you wanted to say out. You were at a loss for words; you couldn’t physically say what you meant, what you wanted.

“Come sit with me?” Andy had reached for your hand, his touch gentle as he pulled your sleeve up and reached for your writing. “We can talk?”

You had followed him into the cozy office and had stood near the door as he reached past you to close the door. As the soft click had echoed in the space, Andy had approached his desk chair again and sat upon the leather, shuffling a few things around to make space for you if you wanted it.

“I’ve been having a lot of nightmares about the trial…about the OAD removing me from this pack and giving me back to them like I’m nothing….”

Andy had hummed while he looked you over, studying you from head to toe before he leaned in and placed his hand on your knee, his thumb brushing against the soft leggings you’d worn under the oversized sweater.

There was an air of comfort like you had experienced with Bucky, and then you heard the same kind of genuineness behind the words he spoke with such honesty.

“I’m sorry for how I treated you. I should have never treated you like you were a job-“

“Bucky said the same thing in fewer words.” You bit down on your bottom lip. “I forgive you, all of you, but I’m still mad.”

“You have every right to be.” Andy hadn’t denied your anger; he hadn’t denied your hurt. Nor had he made an excuse because there wasn’t one. “But if you want to talk-“

“I was guilty. They found me guilty, and then I was…God…”

“You can tell me, honey.” Andy had gently pulled on your hand, gently leading you closer toward him.

“They removed the marks, everyone. There was no hesitation when the judge had given the verdict. There was no shred of remorse or hesitation; it happened so fast, and then…I could feel the handcuffs. I could feel the prison jumpsuit. I felt all of it.”

Andy had remained silent while he listened to you speak. He had heard to you telling him every manner of what you had gone through in your realistic nightmares, offering his comfort via his scent and the soft stroking of his thumb across your knuckles. He had kept his eyes on you; his blue irises fixated on you and you alone as you had unloaded all manners of your anxieties on him.

When you had finally come to a pause, Andy had tilted his head and stroked his thumb against the underside of your wrist, scenting you in comfort and warmth. He had pulled you toward him until you were close enough for your chests to touch.

“Would you like me to walk you through the process? Step by step?” you had answered him with a nod of your head, your silent movement his answer.

Andy had continued his gentility by easing you onto his lap, affixing you in a way that was most comfortable and then he had held your back to his chest with his left arm while using his right hand to move the mouse on his computer, pulling up the first of many digital files he had.

He hadn’t expected to see you when he had walked through the door into his room, although his surprise had extended beyond just seeing you in his room.

His surprise had come at you studying the little rack of numbered shells he had on the wall, your inquisitive gaze fixated on the light-coloured shells and the coloured numbers that had been fixed upon them.

You had been so focused on the shells, so drawn to their numbers that you hadn’t heard Ari enter the room, nor had you registered his scent as it had quickly filled the empty spaces of the room. You hadn’t been aware of Ari until he spoke quietly, his voice soft as not to spook you.

“Princess,” he had further entered his room and set his headphones he’d used during his run on the shelf nearest the door, watching you look over your shoulder, “are you okay?”

“I haven’t…been sleeping well. I uh…I went and talked to Andy and Bucky.”

Ari had followed your gaze as you directed your attention back on the shells, your curiosity at the object on the wall drawing him closer as he sought to give you an explanation on the item.

He had moved closer until his chest was against your back, and his hands had naturally forced to rest against your hips. He was hesitant to touch you, to put his hands on you, after everything he had done after he had made you feel as if you were nothing more than a job.

That was the farthest from the truth, and yet none of them had quantified that in any proper manner. All they had done was make you feel as if you were an obligation.

“That is the number of omegas we’d saved.” Ari had turned his head and brushed his lips against your ear, his voice sending pleasant shivers down your spine as you reacted to the feel of him so close and his scent that was so comforting and endearing.

It was the touch and the silent way of communicating that had extended the apology and acceptance without needing to air it all verbally.

There was lingering hurt, as there had been with both Bucky and Andy, but beneath the lingering hurt and irritation was forgiveness. You had and would forgive them, but you would not let it slide so easily.

“You are not just another omega. You are not an obligation or a job. You are so much more.” Ari had moved his hands from your hips to the front of your waist.

His fingers had pressed against your sweater before he had slowly started to pull up the bottom to trail his fingers along the edge of your leggings. He needed to feel you in the same manner as Bucky and Andy, just as you needed to feel his comfort.

“You saved them all?” You had reached out to touch the first shell, the number of omegas they had saved was right in front of you, and it had explained so much about why they had done what they had, yet it didn’t excuse them.

“Bucky had nightmares too.” Your fingertips traced the edges, ridges of the shell and the written number on the curve. “I could see it, or sense it, the way he spoke about them. They were intense and the…omegas they couldn’t save or the ones that were too far gone to return to everyday life-“

“It’s not an excuse, but we were afraid. We have seen what happens to omegas; all of us in different aspects of our careers have witnessed the aftermath of what can happen within seconds-“

“They removed my marks.” You had pulled your hair off your shoulder, exposing Jake’s mark on your neck, your fingertip running along the healed scar. “They removed them all.”

“They use a chemical treatment that loosens the molecular attachment.” Ari had placed his hand on top of yours, weaving your fingers together to feel the same mark. “It burns like acid. Omegas have described it as being burned from the inside, the pain is radiating, and the emptiness they feel after is traumatizing.”

“They had removed them all while I was in handcuffs.” You had pressed your back against his chest and turned your head, brushing your cheek against his chest. “It was needle after needle; it was as if liquid fire was consuming me. Even before that, the entire room was engulfed in flames.”

“It was a nightmare,” Ari hummed in your ear, his chest vibrating against your back, “it won’t happen, sunshine. I promise we will all do everything we can to keep you safe.”

“Ari-“

“I’m sorry.” He had stood firm as you pulled away and turned to face him, your arms reaching for and snaking around his waist before you had pressed yourself flush against him.

You had nuzzled your cheek against his pectoral, enjoying the moment his scent had enveloped you entirely. “You are so much more than an obligation; than another omega on another job. You are so much more than all of it.”

[sporesmoldandfungi]

Flip City - Chapter 3

A/N: Hello! I hope you guys will enjoy this chapter, and give me your opinions on some of the changes I made to the general flow/plot of the movie scenes I used. Thank you! 

----- “Where is he?” 

“Mrs. Spengler, please calm down.” 

“Go to hell! Where is my husband?” 

The officer gave in, ushering the hysteric woman to follow him. They walked past the front desk and past the large offices and finally reached rows of small jail cells. She could see three men sitting in one, they just happened to be Ray, Peter, and Egon. She ran past the officer, standing in front of the cell. 

“Genevieve!” Ray said excitedly, standing up to greet her. 

She was not as excited to see her friends. Her eyebrows furrowed and Ray stood back, knowing that she was angry. “Would one of you be so kind as to tell me why I got a call at one in the morning saying that my husband was arrested?” 

“You know that blackout?” Peter said. 

She nodded. 

Peter motioned to himself and his friends. 

Genevieve understood immediately, “You caused a blackout! How the hell do you manage that?” 

“Don’t look at me, look at Ray, he was the one who was underground when it happened.” Peter said defensively. 

“Shut up, Venkman, you’re not off the hook yet.” 

“Genevieve.” Egon finally stood up, walking over to the bars. He pushed one of his hands through, awkwardly stroking her cheek. “We’ll worry about who to blame after we get out of here. Have you found out how long we’re in here?” 

She calmed down as soon as his fingers met her skin, “The officer said they’re about to post your bail, which is gonna be costly.” 

He nodded, “See? Everything is going to be alright.” 

That was true, until a week later, when the three men ended up in court. Turns out, causing a city wide blackout doesn’t look so hot especially after causing thousands of dollars of property damage years before. The city of New York was pretty fed up with the Ghostbusters at this point, hence, the lawsuit. 

Genevieve, Dana, and Winston sat behind the three men’s table, eagerly waiting for the trial to begin. Egon turned around, motioning for Genevieve to get close to him. 

“How do you think I’ll look in stripes?” he joked. 

“You’re not going to jail. Plus, I think orange would compliment your eyes more.” she smirked. 

The judge banged his gavel down three times, making Egon quickly turn back around. Genevieve, Winston, and Dana all shared a nervous look before turning their full attention to the judge. 

“Before we begin this trial, I want to make one thing very clear. The law does not recognize the existence of ghosts. I don't believe in them either. Don't wanna hear a lot of malarkey about goblins and spooks and demons. We're gonna stick to the facts in this case and leave the ghost stories to the kiddies, understood?” 

“Sounds like a pretty open minded guy.” Winston whispered to Genevieve. 

“They call him ‘The Hammer’.” 

“At least they have a decent lawyer right?” he asked. 

Genevieve shook her head, “I wouldn’t be too sure about that.” 

Just then, Louis Tully came walking over to the defendant’s table, dropping a large stack of files on the tabletop. He talked to the three men anxiously and Ray threw his head in his hands in response, assuring his lack of confidence in his only line of defense. 

The two lawyers got their things straightened out and Genevieve tuned out most of the protocol stuff. Both lawyers interviewed some witnesses, one being a “specialist” for ConEd saying the Ghostbusters were, to put it delicately, full of shit. Genevieve was tuning out most of it, only paying attention when Louis called his fourth witness to the stand, Genevieve. 

She knew there was a chance she would be questioned, but it still took her by surprise when she heard her name called. She glared at Louis as she approached the witness stand. He looked apologetic. 

“Mrs. Spengler, h-how long have you known these men?” 

She cleared her throat before answering, “I’ve known Dr. Stanz for almost twelve years, Dr. Venkman for ten, and my husband for thirteen years in March.” 

“A-and would you say that these men are, uh, dangerous or reckless in any way, I mean, matter?” 

“Well, they are not intentionally.” 

Louis leaned in, “That doesn’t help us at all.” 

“What I mean is, our line of work requires us to sometimes be a little dangerous and reckless, if we weren’t, there’d be ghosts and supernatural beings all over New York. But, in an everyday setting, those men are only reckless if it is an absolute emergency.” 

Louis looked lost, so he handed the questioning off to the prosecutor. She was a lanky woman with curly hair and glasses. She glared at Genevieve as she began her questioning.

“Where were you the morning of November 4th, Mrs. Spengler?” 

“At home, waiting for my husband to come home.” 

“Right, and how long was Mr. Spengler gone that day?” 

“Dr. Spengler.” she corrected her, which got a smirk from Egon. “And he left around noon.” 

“Did he tell you where he was going or his plans for the day?” 

Genevieve shrugged, “He told me that he was helping out Dana and that he may be back late.” 

“And you just believed him?” 

She scoffed, “I’m sorry, but what are you implying?” 

The prosecutor shrugged, “I don’t know Mrs. Spengler, but I know most housewives would be pretty suspicious of their husband being gone all day helping a female friend. You never called to check on him, you just let him do whatever he wanted.” 

“Look, lady. The whole “affair argument” makes zero sense for whatever point you’re trying to prove. But to answer your question, no, I didn’t call to check on him until late. I’ve worked alongside my husband for years, I know his working habits, one of them being his dislike of being interrupted. I also know he works better late into the night, I’ve seen it firsthand, so that’s why I called to check in late at night, because I’m a good wife who knows and trusts her husband.” she said to the prosecutor. Genevieve turned to the judge, “We done here?” 

The judge slammed down his gavel, “Dismissed.” 

Genevieve left the stand and walked past the three men. She leaned in close to Peter, “Beat that, Venkman.”

Moments later, Peter was called to the stand. In classic Peter style, he showed no remorse or guilt as he walked over to the witness stand. He still wore the Venkman smirk as he sat down. Louis walked to Peter quickly, rushing through his questions. Peter ended up leading Louis through most of the questions, being his backbone throughout the entirety of his questioning. 

The prosecutor was then able to ask Peter questions. Peter winked at her as she approached him. 

“Dr. Venkman... would you please tell the court why it is that you and your co-defendants took it upon yourselves to dig a very big hole in the middle of First Avenue?” she asked. 

“Well, there are so many holes in First Avenue, we really didn't think anyone would notice.”

The gallery, including Winston and Genevieve, let out small chuckles at Peter’s remark. 

“Keep that up, mister, I'll find you in contempt.” the judge warned. 

“I'm truly sorry, Your Honor.” 

The prosecutor stepped closer to Peter, “I'll ask you again, Dr. Venkman. Why were you digging the hole? And please remember you're under oath.” 

“There are some things in this world that go way beyond human understanding. Things that cannot be explained. Things that most people don't even want to know about. That is where we come in.” he said, motioning to his four colleagues who in return nodded in agreement. 

“So what you're saying is that the world of the supernatural is your exclusive province?” she said, leaning on the stand. 

Peter tapped her hand, making her move. “Kitten, I think that what I'm saying is that sometimes, shit happens, someone has to deal with it, and who ya gonna call?” 

The gallery cheered in response, which only made the judge angrier. One of the many pieces of evidence in front of the defendant’s table was a jar of pink ooze. Ray found it under the spot where Oscar’s carriage stopped. He noticed as the judge’s voice got louder and filled with more anger as he shouted for the gallery to shut up, the ooze would begin to bubble. Ray just dismissed it, seeing as it didn’t react at all as the gallery and the judge settled down. 

Peter left the stand, sauntering over to the defendant’s table. Genevieve rolled her eyes as he cockily bowed to his friends. The judge slammed down his gavel, making a wave of silence go over the room. 

“Peter Venkman, Raymond Stantz, Egon Spengler, stand up! Get up! You too, Mr. Tully.” he yelled. 

The four men reluctantly stood up, knowing their fate before the judge even spoke another word. 

“ I find you guilty on all charges. I order you to pay fines in the amount of $25,000 each.” 

Bingo. 

Ray looked down at the evidence table once more, seeing the jar of pink ooze bubbles again. This time, he didn’t take his eyes off it, even when the judge announced their sentence. With another slam of the gavel, the ooze bubbled again. Ray felt the energy in the courtroom shift, he tapped Egon on the shoulder. He motioned to the jar, “Egie, she’s twitching.” 

The judge saw the men ignoring him, which only made him angier. He slammed down his gavel louder and harder, “I'm not finished! On a more personal note, let just me go on record as saying that there is no place for fakes, charlatans–” 

Egon interrupted, watching the ooze continue to bubble more and more. “Your honor-“

“Shut up! Tricksters like you in decent society.”

Peter finally looked down at what his colleagues were staring at. His eyes widened as he watched the ooze bubble higher and higher, almost to the point of overflowing. He spoke up, “Your Honor, this is important.” 

The ooze began bubbling faster, like it was boiling. Egon turned around, motioning for Winston, Dana, and Genevieve to look ahead. The three of them stared at the slime in horror, knowing all too well something bad was about to occur. 

The judge was still on his rampage, yelling about how the Ghostbusters prey on innocent people. 

Ray tried getting his attention, “Yes, sir-”

He was met with a loud, “Be quiet!”

The slime continued to rage, bubbling higher and faster, the jar itself began to shake violently. 

“And believe me, if my hands were not tied by the unalterable fetters of the law... And I would invoke the tradition of our illustrious forebears…” 

Egon motioned for the men to take cover under the table. Genevieve, Winston, and Dana followed suit, crouching underneath their chairs, being able to see the three men through the bars of the wooden gate that separated the courtroom. 

The judge continued, “... reach back to a purer, sterner justice, and have you burned at the stake!” 

The pure anger and final fury from the judge shot the slime out of the jar, landing on a ghost trap on the evidence table. In result, two ghosts, one short and fat, the other being tall and skinny, flew out of the trap. Ghost-like electricity shot through them, they cackled as a result of their freedom. 

Chaos broke out in the courtroom, almost everyone in the gallery left and the stenographer and the bailiff ran to the juror's door. The only people left in the room were the five Ghostbusters, Louis, Dana, the judge, and the prosecutor. 

The judge sat in shock, “Oh my God, the Scoleri brothers.”

The Scoleri brothers dive bombed the judge’s bench. Luckily, the judge hopped off just in time and joined the remaining people under the table. 

“Scoleri Brothers!” the judge cried again. 

“Friends of yours?” Ray asked. 

“I tried them for murder! Gave them the chair!” he explained. 

The skinny brother scanned the room, still cackling. 

“You gotta do something!” the judge said to the Ghostbusters. 

“Why don’t you just tell them you don’t believe in ghosts?” Egon joked. 

The Scoleri brothers found their hiding spot, the fatter one raised the table as the skinner one held up the chairs that Dana, Genevieve, and Wintson were hiding under. They all ran to the judge’s door, but were met with a locked door that did not budge no matter what they did. 

The judge grabbed Ray, “You gotta do something. Help me!” 

“Don't talk to me. Talk to my attorney.” 

“And that's me!” Louis said triumphantly. “ My guys are still under a judicial mistrangement order. That blue thing I got from her. They could be exposing themselves.” 

“And you don’t want us exposing ourselves.” Peter quipped, earning an eye roll from Dana. 

Before anyone could respond, they heard screams coming from the gallery. Each of them poked their heads out from their new hiding spot and saw the fat brother holding the prosecutor by her foot, dangling her across the courtroom and out the door. 

“You’re next, bubbles.” Peter said. 

The judge gave in, “All right, all right! I rescind the order! Case dismissed!” 

“Hooray! We won the case!” Louis cheered, but was cut short by the judge screaming at them to do something. 

Both of the brother’s were nowhere to be seen, so the Ghostbusters took this as their time to suit up. As Peter put on his proton pack, he was surprised to see Dana standing with them, looking at the evidence table for something for her to use. 

“Ah-ah-ah. What do you think you’re doing?” he asked. 

“I’m helping.” Dana stated. 

“Thanks for the offer, hun, but we got this. These bozos are a two man job at best, besides I don’t need you getting in my way.” Peter said. He was obviously worried about her, but covered it up by being a complete asshole. 

“We’re rusty, Pete, we’re gonna need all the help we can get.” Winston said. 

Peter groaned. 

“Second, that.” Genevieve said, walking over to the Venkman’s. She held up a trap, “Do you know how this works?” 

Dana shook her head. 

“Well, since we don’t have enough proton packs for you to use, you’ll man the trap, it’s really the most important part of the job. We’ll get the ghosts and hold them directly above the trap. On our call, you slide the trap to the middle of the room and hit the foot pedal to activate it. That will open the trap doors and hopefully catch the little shits, but you cannot look at the trap when you open it. Just slam the pedal and turn your head.” 

Genevieve handed Dana the trap. “Got it.” She ran to take cover by the overturned table. 

Peter groaned again as he adjusted his proton pack, “I always hated this part of the business.” 

Egon walked over to assist Genevieve in putting on hers. He smiled down at her, “This feels awfully familiar.” 

“They’re still way too heavy. Are we positive this shit still works?” she asked. 

“It should. The power cells have a half-life of five thousand years.” he replied. 

Ray interjected, “Well, there's no time for a bench test. Heat 'em up.”

Peter turned on his thrower. The pack hummed in response, making Peter sing out a low, “Do…” 

Ray followed suit with his, “Re…” 

“Egon!” 

They all looked over at Egon, who was smirking proudly at his joke. There was little time to laugh though, seconds after Egon’s play on words, the chairs in the gallery began shooting up in the air. The ghosts were still invisible. 

“Whoa!” Ray shouted. 

One by one, more chairs shot up and the Scoleri brothers eventually appeared. The Ghostbusters shot out at the ghosts wildy but still missed. The brothers flew above them and into the wall behind the judge’s bench. Peter yelled ridiculously, obviously amped up from busting again. The awkward silence that followed made Ray chuckle. Peter gave in, then Genevieve, then Wintson, then finally Egon with an extremely monotone laugh. The laughter came to a halt when both brothers reappeared. 

Peter ran after the fat one, shooting at him from the gallery, and eventually got a steady hold on him. “Come on, big boy. I'm gonna take you home to my private zoo!” 

He still struggled with the large ghost, forgetting how hard the job was. Winston stepped in, helping Peter with the fat ghost. They walked in sync, getting closer to the trap. 

“Dana! Get ready with the trap!” Genevieve called out, shooting to get the skinny ghost.

 The ghost was harder to catch, he was quick and swerved out of the way of her stream time and time. Ray cornered him, sending the ghost running back towards Genevieve. She was able to get a semi-stable grip on him, wobbling slightly as she fought against the ghost. Egon stood beside his wife, shooting out to assist her. The two pairs both walked to the middle of the room, waiting for Dana to slide the trap. 

“Now Dana!” Ray called out. 

She slid the trap across the courtroom floor, landing it perfectly in between the two pairs. 

“Get ready!” Ray warned, following with a “Now!” 

Dana stomped on the trap’s pedals, and everyone shut off their streams and turned away as they listened to the Scoleri brother’s get sucked into the trap. There was a few seconds of silence before the trap began to beep, letting them know their entrapment was successful. They each stood up and formed a small circle around the smoking trap. 

“Two in the box!” Ray started. 

Egon and Genevieve joined in, “Ready to go!” 

“We be fast!” Winston and Peter continued. 

“And they be slow!” The five Ghostbusters cheered, pointing down at the trap in glee. 

They all laughed with another as Louis exicidely stared at the smoking trap. Dana walked over to Peter, placing a hand on his shoulder. “When on earth did you guys come up with that?” 

“About a week after Winston was hired.” He replied.

“It’s our unofficial motto. It varies from ghost to ghosts.” Ray added. 

Dana shook her head and laughed, “You guys had way too much time on your hands.” 

“Yeah, yeah, you can make fun of me some more after we show our victory to the press.” Peter smirked. 

Louis grabbed the trap and led the group out the courthouse door, holding the stinky trap with pride as Peter declared to the press, “We’re the best, we’re the beautiful, we’re the only…Ghostbusters.” 

Taglist : @annoyinglythoughtfuldestiny , @egonspenglersweetie , @hiddlebatchedloki , @spenglers-main-squeeze

[thatesqcrush]

The Auction, Pt. 2

Bryan Kneef x Reader. CW: discussion of sex work, "being bidded on/purchased" touching of reader - but its consensual, vaginal fingering, language. WC: 2K.

You met with the brains of the organization for a long time. Her name was Cordelia and according to her, you were “a perfect candidate” as she eyed you up and down.

“How does this work? Is this safe? ” You asked, crossing your arms and narrowing your eyes. “How much of a cut do I get? And don't bullshit me.”

“Ah, I’ve always appreciated a woman who gets down to brass tacks.” Cordelia replied. “The cut is 50/50, off the books. We’ll screen your sexual health, of course. While those results are pending, we’ll vet you - make sure you’re of sanity and have no criminal background. This is all done behind closed doors - no one in your immediate life would be the wiser. If that’s all clear, we will arrange the date for the auction. In the meantime, we like to invest in our ladies once they’re cleared - meaning we’ll make arrangements for hair, makeup, clothes, and the like.”

You swallowed hard. “I can assure you, I’m clean. I haven’t had many partners prior.”

Cordelia nodded. “Well, then we have nothing to worry about.”

**

Your test results came and you received a clean bill of health. The next step was to be primped and polished. Naturally you were middle of the road - some days you could be really girly and other days, not. You weren’t tethered to any one style. But it had been awhile since you were ever able to relax, so when you were sent to a spa for a day of treatment, you jumped at the chance.

After, it was onto shopping.

You felt like Vivian from Pretty Woman as salespersons brought you dress after dress while you got your hair and makeup done. The request from Cordelia was ‘sexy, not slutty.’

You settled on a red hot mini dress with a v-neckline and center ruching for added dimension. Finishing the look was a pair of simple heels that showed off your toned gams and a pair of jeweled hoop earrings. You hardly recognized yourself in your reflection in the floor to ceiling mirror in the store. ‘This is one night; you’re playing a role.’ You told yourself. You figured if you repeated it enough times, you’d believe it.

An unmarked car came to collect you once you were done, driving you straight to the location where the auction was taking place.

You knew there would be other women there from Bonnie. What you didn’t realize was that you’d be going very last. Your nerves were starting to fry and your stomach was twisted in knots. You sipped water through a straw so as to not ruin your lipstick. Finally, there was a rap on the door and Cordelia poked her head in.

“Darling, it’s your time to shine. Now go earn your worth.”

**

You could hear raucous laughter, cheering and applause from behind where you stood. The music pounded and you could feel it in your bones.

Finally, the door opened - it was pitch black on the other side, save a spotlight. You said a quick prayer, even though you weren’t very religious as you stepped into the light.

Once there, the light adjusted to a more dim version and you were able to focus your vision on the crowd before you. Music played quietly in the background before a woman began to speak - someone who sounded very much like Cordelia.

What she says next and what is said after, is all blur. Bids begin to roll in and it’s in that moment you realized you were nothing more than a hooker, using your body as a means to an end. Humiliation flowed through you - you didn’t feel like you - you didn’t feel as good as you thought. Instead your worth was measured in bank rolls.

You scanned the room, men of all shapes, sizes, colors and creeds were there, waving their black AmEx cards like they were charging a steak dinner. And that’s how you felt - you were a lamb being slaughtered.

The gavel banged and you heard Cordelia exclaim, “Sold! To Mr. Bryan Kneef for two-hundred and fifty thousand dollars.”

You whipped your head at Cordelia. Had you heard her correctly? Two-hundred and fifty thousand dollars? The fact that you got to keep half made your head spin.

“And that concludes tonight’s auction. Winners may come to collect their prizes in the back.”

Cordelia wrapped her arm around your waist and began to whisk you away when you heard someone thank ‘Mr. Kneef for his payment.’ You turned to see who he was and in the dimmed light you saw it was ‘Mr. Mysterious.’

And you damn near passed out.

**

You sat in the room you were originally in. There was one security camera in place and Cordelia advised that winners liked to meet first before any further advances were to come.

Your leg bounced as you drank your water again. You felt as if you were there for hours but realistically it was mere moments.

The door opened and Mr. Mysteri—Kneef walked in. You smiled nervously at him and extended your arm. “Hi. Bryan, right?”

Bryan didn’t reply. Instead he gave you an intense, smoldering look. His cologne wafted over you, warm and woodsy causing your skin to goosebump.

You brought your arm back and clutched your hands behind your back. Bryan took another step towards you, as if he were trying to get a closer look at his purchase.

“Take off your clothes.” Bryan requested quietly. You opened your mouth to say something but the look in response along with a perfectly arched brow caused you to snap your mouth shut. “I want to see what I bought.”

You reached around, undoing the zipper - thankful it was along the side and not along your back.

You slid the dress off, strap by strap. You hadn’t worn a bra - just a nude thong which wasn’t even fancy - simple and basic, meant more for avoiding lines than anything else. The dress pooled at your feet and you stepped out of it. You moved to kick off your heels when Bryan interrupted you.

“Leave them on.”

You nodded and stood up, anxiously awaiting the next move.

Bryan removed his jacket and folded it neatly, hanging it over a chair. He began to roll up the sleeves of his dress shirt, showing off his muscular forearms with thick, meaty veins.

You looked up and saw the small security camera and realized this private show wasn’t so private. The sound of a finger snap brought you back to the present and you whipped your head towards Bryan. Your heart began to race and you wondered if you should just bolt. You tried to mentally measure the distance between you and the door.

Bryan approached you. His gaze softened, as if he were sorry for what he was about to say. “I’m going to touch you now. At any point if you want me to stop, I will. Consent is very important to me.”

“It is to me too.” You replied, meeting his gaze. After a beat, you continued. “You can touch me.”

His warm touch began rather innocently, along your arm up to along your shoulder. As he walked around you, he kept touching and feeling. His hand got to your ass and he let out a deep rumble as he squeezed the fat of your flesh.

Bryan walked around you. When he came around to the front of you, he cupped one breast with his hand, feeling the weight against his palm. You did your best to remain stoic, ignoring the bolt of pleasure that had shot down to your core. That changed when he firmly twisted your nipple, as you let out a moan as he did so. That earned another arched brow from him, as if taking mental notes.

He rounded you again, and you felt him close the small gap that remained. You felt his cock, hard, pressed against the small of your back. His fingers gently traced your arm and then brought it up, so it was around his neck. He ran his hand back down along your side, and you trembled under his touch. You were certain your heart was beating outside of your chest. When he got to the side of your ribs, he splayed out his hand, so his palm was against you. Slowly, his hand made way down to the apex of your legs.

“Open.” He rumbled in your ear quietly and you followed his instructions. Your breath hitched as his hand cupped your mound. Bryan’s fingers then moved to stroke you softly, teasing your clit and then moving back to stroke your folds. Your pussy grew wet, your breath became more labored as he continued his ministrations. You bit your bottom lip as he slowly but surely worked you to orgasm. Just when you thought you weren’t going to be able to take anymore, Bryan sunk a thick finger inside your soaked pussy. Your pussy clenched around his finger tightly and you let out a wrecked moan in response.

“You’re so wet and we haven’t even started.” Bryan murmured. His beard against your cheek added another layer of sensation. There was no resistance when Bryan sunk another thick finger and began to pump them in and out of you. The sound of wet filled the room and your legs felt wobbly as you gripped around Bryan’s neck harder. Your other hand found his free hand and you brought it up to your breast, encouraging him.

“I’m so close.” You panted. “Oh fuck!”

“Come for me like a good girl.” Bryan growled as he rubbed your clit with the fat pad of his thumb. He used his other hand to pinch your nipple again and you arched against him, coming so hard that you drew his fingers further in.

“That’s it, that’s it.” Bryan praised. “Oh sweetheart we’re going to have so much fun.” He slid his fingers out of you and you whimpered at the loss.

Bryan spun you around to face him. You were a mess as you watched him admire his wet fingers in the light. Bryan brought them to you and you took his fingers into your mouth, cleaning them of your juices and then imitating as to what you could do with your mouth.

Bryan gave you a salacious smile as he withdrew his fingers. He traced them along your cheek, leaving a wet trail to your mouth where he rubbed your bottom lip.

“I definitely got my money’s worth with you.” Bryan replied. “Go home, get some sleep. I’ll have arrangements made so we can have even more fun.”

You watched as he walked away, grabbing his suit jacket and exiting without so much as a second glance. You stayed frozen in place for another five minutes or so, until you realized you could redress and go home.

The car ride home left you with more questions than answers and more horny than ever. Your battery operated boyfriend ran through its battery as you replayed the evening over and over as you were too wired to sleep from the earlier events.

Eventually you did, with Bryan’s name still on your lips.

TBC.

Tags: @mgarner1227 @madpanda75 @tropes-and-tales @beccabarba @dreamlover31 @dreamlover31 @prurientpuddlejumper @sass-and-suspenders @youreverycolor @neely1177 @witches-unruly-heart @mrsrafaelbarba @skittle479 @greeneyedblondie44 @mommakat32 @teamsladsandgents @detective-giggles @garturbo @zoeykaytesmom @ottosuricato @zoeykaytesmom @bananas-pajamas @law-nerd105

@storiesofsvu @pieceofshittytitty @i-justreally-like-cats-okay @whatisthislife28 @jazzyjoi @rampantmuses @rachelxwayne @qvid-pro-qvo @madamsnape921 @averyhotchner @alwaysachorusgirl @amelia-song-pond @tintinxtintin @wanniiieeee @blueberryt @crowfootwrites @emandems10 @berniesilvas @whoamelinda @its-just-me-chey @resparza @chunex @chasingeverybreakingwave @itsjustmyfantasyroom @bisexual-dreamer02

[teenage-mutant-ninja-freak]

Ok but like here me out their s/o defending the mob!turtles in court and walking about like bad B’s 😆 love your work btw!

thank you so much! I love that you guys seem to like the mob! turtles stuff

Mob! Leo

now they’re trying to get you to admit that all the clubs and bars they own are a front for the mob

but you’re not gonna do that

you’ve been prepped and practised by Leo for way too long

and honestly you’re just ready to cause hell because they have no real evidence, they just want you to slip up

“look, ms y/n, you seem like a decent and intelligent person...”

“thank you, and if I weren’t under oath, I’d return the compliment”

the whole courtroom goes silent

you look over at Leo who is trying to conceal his grin behind his hand

that night you’re in for being showered with gifts, wine and attention

because he loves this cocky side of you

the one that knows you can get away with murder because of him

Mob! Raph

it’s not unusual for Raph to be on trial for something relating to murder

it’s actually pretty usual for him

but you’re on the stand this time and he hates that you’ve been dragged into it

but alas you have been and it’s your turn on the stand

honestly you’re so done with the entire thing, it’s been hours of nothing but circumstantial evidence and he-said-she-said stuff

so you’re feeling a little feisty 

“Now, the autopsy was done on his dead body and-”

“Well, I’m glad it was done on his dead body, I’m sure if he were alive he’d have put up a bit of a fight now wouldn’t he...”

the judge bangs his gavel and demands you take this more seriously to which you just roll your eyes

Raph has to look away to keep a straight face

but when you get off the stand you get a quick swat on the butt and he tells you “hey, take this more seriously....That was kinda funny though, but be serious”

Mob! Mikey

Mikey’s been on trial more times than he’s had hot dinners

and it’s for everything from tax evasion to aggravated assault to arson

at this point the trial is just dragging on

Mikey’s lawyers are just too good for him to go down for this which is always the case

money really can buy you a lot of things

“and your last relationship was terminated by?”

“By death”

“and who’s death was it terminated by?”

“I’ll give you three guesses....”

Mikey can barely contain himself especially when you follow it up with “Maybe law isn’t for everyone...”

when you get off the stand he scoops you up in his arms and gives out a fully belly laugh

you’re in for a wild time tonight, he loves seeing this side of you

Mob! Donnie

Hacking is always what Donnie’s in for

or something related to that

but this time it’s to do with a fight at one of the clubs

“And were you present when this picture was taken?”

“I...I’m in the picture”

“Yes but were you present?”

“Did you actually pass the bar exam?”

He can’t help himself, Donnie snorts with laughter

he’s got to give you credit, that was funny

for days after the trial he’s so much more relaxed with you

little things like this lets him know that he can trust you and let his guard down with you, that you have his back

flowers and trips away ensue because of your “good behaviour” 

[magalidragon]

#5 in anger management 😏😈

Alrighty then! 😈 Back to Barrister Dany and Judge Jon! In all their dirtiness, lol

#5. “I think you lost your underwear somewhere.”

Jon idly rubbed the ‘Love’ tattoo on his wrist with his opposite thumb, listening to Tyrion complaining over a motion that Dany had just filed on behalf of her client, a motion that Tyrion seemed to have particular angst over.  Jon figured it was because Dany had filed a motion claiming prosecutorial malfeasance, which honestly, given that it was Tyrion Lannister, Jon was pretty sure was 100 percent accurate.

He shifted in the back of the courtroom, glancing at Judge Ashara Dayne, who had transitioned to the Court of Common Pleas.  She smiled in his direction, gave a small wave, and proceeded to rule that she would need time with the motion and until then, court was adjourned, over Tyrion’s protests.  She banged the gavel, and everyone stood, including Jon, waiting for her to depart before they gathered their things.

He walked down the aisle towards the defense table, Dany saying goodbye to her client before the bailiff took him away.  He stopped, waiting on her, and Tyrion wandered over.  “You lost?” he asked.

Jon glanced sideways.  He smiled politely.  “Tyrion, lovely to see you of course.”  He lifted his brows.  “You said something?”

“I was just wondering if you were lost.”

“Your Honor.”

Tyrion frowned.  “Excuse me?”

“Oh, I was just saying ‘Your Honor’, because last I checked I’m still a judge even if it in juvenile court.”  He rarely ever played that hand, but it was fun to play with Tyrion, because he was such an arsehole.  

Tyrion glared at him, gritting out, “Your Honor”, like it was glue in his mouth, and stormed away.  

Dany stepped over to him, lightly pecking his lips.  “That was fun.”  She frowned at him, head cocking slightly. It made her earrings bob, sending bright red little sparkles of light around her in the sunlight through the wide courtroom windows.  “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to pop by.”

“Well I’m glad, let’s go back to your office.”  

He walked at her side, his robes billowing out around him; he’d forgotten to take them off when he left his courtroom, not usually one to wear them beyond chambers.  He rubbed his wrist again, wincing at the slight pain shooting through his radius.  “Your block this morning still hasn’t worn off,” he complained.  

She giggled.  “I’ll make it up to you.”

“And how, pray tell will you do that?”

“You’ll see,” she said airily, checking her phone, and let out a sound that most dogs probably wouldn’t even be able to hear it was so high-pitched.  “Oh!”  She turned it towards him and sighed.  “Look at Lya!  She’s such a strong little girl!”

“Dany, she has our son in a headlock.”

“Hmm, he’ll get out of it.”

The terrible twos were indeed truly terrible, especially with their twins.  Daemon and Lya loved each other like siblings did, falling asleep in each other’s arms most evenings, but only after they had ripped at each other’s hair, thrown each other’s food, and had now begun fighting in a manner suggesting they had inherited their mother’s rage issues.  He would need to get them into Arya’s martial arts class soon.  He was positive Lya was already adept at Faceless, because even in utero she’d been hiding, using her brother as a shield until finally the doctor was able to space out the rather ‘erratic’ heartbeat and discover it was two babies, not one.  

They entered his office via the back entrance, bypassing Gilly and Satin, who he believed—hoped—were out to lunch.  He moved to unzip his robes, idly checking the schedule in front of him on the desk to see he didn’t have court until later that afternoon.  He would work on some judgments until then, or rather…he caught sight of Dany, who had shaken off her blazer and removed her heels, padding over to him silently.  He arched his brow.  “Can I help you Mrs. Snow?”

“Hmm…that depends Your Honor.”

“On what?”

Dany pulled at the sides of his robes, her fingers flicking the zipper.  She lifted her eyes, large and sinful, the lavender ring around her pupil disappearing into deep indigo, her lips parting to allow her tongue to dart out and wet the top one, voice husking:  “On what you decide.”

“Decide?” he gasped, her hands tracing over his chest.  He closed his eyes, suppressing the growl deep from within.  He dropped his hands to her hips.  “And what do I have to decide?”

“Hmm…the decision before the Court is…” She pushed him, easily, down into his chair.  He shifted backwards, his dress slacks incredibly uncomfortable, the front already tenting out as he grew harder with every whisper of her words.  She overed over him, her hands on either side, on the chair’s armrests.  The deep ‘v’ of her dress gaped, giving him an unobstructed view of her perfect breasts.  He moved, wanting to fill his hands with them, but she shook her head, pushing him back into the seat.  “Nope.  You have to decide.”  She licked her lips again, whispering.  “Do you want my mouth or…” Her fingers traced over the front of the robe, separating it, and began to pop his shirt buttons.  “Or my cunt?”

He released a high-pitched whine, shifting in the seat again, gasping.  “Both?”

“Nope, you get one or the other.”

Eyes clenched shut, her scent catching him, floral and spicy, he couldn’t possibly decide.  Her fingers began to undo his belt buckle and it seemed she was going to decide for him, but she stopped, hands on his hips.  “Dany,” he gasped, eyes springing open, seeing her smirking at him.  “I can’t.”

“Nope, Your Honor must decide.”

Fuck, every single time she called him that he swore he could come.  He shook his head fast, decision made, when she licked her lips again, bright red, the same color as her dress.  “Fuck, your mouth.”

“Hmm, very well.”  

She fell to her knees and pulled at his pants, his hips lifting to let his cock spring out, and she frowned, cocking her head.  “Hmm…I think you lost your underwear somewhere.”  She grinned up.  “Your Honor.”

It was his turn to smirk.  “I think they’re still somewhere in the couch from this morning.”

“So you’ve been commando in court all morning?”

“Hmm…I suppose I have been.”

“My, my, my, whatever will the Minister of Justice have to say to that?”

“Fuck, I hope she never finds out and can we not talk about Olenna Tyrell now?”  

She licked at him, like a lollipop, from base to tip, silencing anything he had to say on the matter, her mouth easily sliding over him, engulfting him in her heat.  His hands flew to her hair, wrapping the silky strands around his fists, hlding it from her face as she worked him over, her throat a hot, tight suction around him, taking him deep before she let go again, teasing and taunting, her hand moving in tandem with her mouth, while her other scratched lightly up over his chest.  

Seven hells, he thought, over and over again, his cries caught in his throat, a fist coming to cover his mouth so no one could potentially overhear what was happening in his office.  He made the mistake of glancing down at her again, her eyes wide and watery, spittle and precum around her lips and chin, and he forced himself not to thrust into her suddenly, but couldn’t help it when his hips lifted, just in time for her to pop off of him.  

“What,” he began, startled, and desperate to come, so close, his body quivering and the tingle in the base of his spine already starting, warning.  

Dany hiked her skrit up over her hips, pushed aside her red thong, and gripping him, slid down easily, not stopping her long, low moan.  He swallowed any further sounds she might make with his lips, kissing her hard, one hand still wrapped in her hair and the other coming down to her back, helping her grind into him, rubbing her clit on his pelvis as he arched up into her, hips rolling together, both of them so close.  

He came fast and hard, flooding into her tight heat, hips juddering with each wave, and didn’t stop until she came too, a few seconds later, gripping him like a vice.  He couldn’t see anything, just blinding light behind his eyelids and damn well couldn’t hear much either, nothing but a muffled “Love you.”

“Hmm,” he murmured, seeking her mouth again, whispering.  “I love you too.”

They remained ine ach other’s arms a moment longer, until he softened and pulled out and she climbed off of him.  In the bathroom they cleaned up and made themselves presentable, no one the wiser at what might have just happened.  He kissed her goodbye, said he’d see her at the gym later before they picked up the kids at Auntie Arya’s, and reluctantly unlocked the door to see her out.

“Mrs. Snow,” Satin said primly, waiting for the door to open.

Dany grinned.  “Satin.”  She waved.  “Bye darling, see you later.”

“Bye,” he called, watching Dany sashay out.  He grinned and nodded for Satin to come into the office, taking a seat in his chair while Satin moved to the couch.  He took the papers that they were set to go over and lifted up his pen.  “Alright, so first I want to talk about the Rast judgment…”

Satin wasn’t saying anything, not even paying attention.  Jon frowned. “What?”

Satin leaned over the edge of the couch and picked up a pair of black silk boxers, holding them up on the end of his pen.  He smirked.  “These yours, Boss?”

“Hmm,” Jon noted, frowning.  “So that’s where they were.”

Smutty One Liners Prompts

[ghost-flakes]

liminal

summary: you decide to sign up for what you think is a date night auction for some spare cash.

pairing: kurogiri/reader

word count: 2,665

notes:  AU, no specific setting. not beta read and different than how I’m used to writing. hope you enjoy!

★ written for the Citrus Dome Collab - check out other entries here!

★ also posted on AO3!

warnings: mentions of sensory overload (not related to bedroom activities), intimacy, no smut. 

The stage lights were blinding and hot. They seared into your skin and made the edges of your vision fuzzy.

You felt like the very act of existing was generating sweat and you prayed that your makeup would hold.

Not that you really wanted to be in this situation, now that the reality of it was setting in, but it was a matter of principle. 

You were looking for some extra cash on the side and a friend of a friend had mentioned an auction night that was coming up that paid handsomely. You had thought that it was a date night type of auction, but once you saw the auction location (a revamped warehouse), you weren’t so sure. 

You miiight have glossed over the details the event organizer had told you about in favor of speculating about where, how, and why he chose to go around in a purple suit. But somehow, he made it work?

Before you knew it, you had found yourself trussed up in sparse but elegant clothing, just this side of revealing. A hint of skin here and there, enough to catch the eye but not so much to compromise your modesty. (However much you had left at this point, anyway.)

You tried not to think too hard about how efficiently you and the other participants had been prepped, but trepidation clung to the edge of your senses like stubborn cobwebs.

As the auctioneer introduced you, you let your gaze travel across the room, taking in your potential companions for the night. They were a strange assortment.

The mildest seemed to look like salarymen - one man with a very long, pointed nose that was oddly familiar. A man wearing an accordion mask, whom you guessed must have had some sort of yakuza ties, as he was flanked by three others and the whole group was given just a little extra space. A couple of other masked men (seemed like there was a theme tonight), a lizard man, a stapled patchwork man. 

A rainbow of hair colors scattered far and wide.

Golden wisps streaked across the back of the room before your attention was stolen by a couple of women who were sharply dressed and no less intimidating than any of the men. 

The room’s overall vibe was barely restrained anticipation, but underneath that was a strong warning: fuck around and find out.

Oh boy, did you not want to find out. 

If their quirks were half as exotic as their looks, you’d be torn to bits in minutes. What a morbid thought for what should have been a lighthearted, wallet-fattening evening.

Sure, the house took a hefty cut, but the hope was that the winning bid would be high enough to make it worth it.

Depending on how this turned out, you’d either start buying lotto tickets weekly or swear off gambling for life.

You saw the auctioneer gesture toward you with a flourish of his hand. Showtime!

You smiled demurely and ducked your head coyly in an attempt to hide your expression. Paired with a measured bow, hands in front, held for just a little bit longer - you felt the air in the room shift as you put yourself in the care of the audience. 

The display of vulnerability was like blood to sharks. The room exploded into action, with a near constant fwip of rustling material as guests raised their paddles to bid and the auctioneer egging them on further.

You quickly became dizzy from the thought that so many people would be bidding for your time. The room suddenly felt far too small for the amount of activity going on, and you could only wait for the final bid to land.

The room was getting louder as the bidding became more heated. You heard the clatter of a chair as someone scrambled on top of a table as if it would help them bid harder. Other patrons cried out in protest, only to be quickly put in place by a sharp reprimand from the auctioneer.

This didn’t do much to keep the room from steadily approaching a fever pitch. 

The higher the numbers, the more pressure you felt.

You were still stuck in place, sweltering under the stage lights, praying that the highest bidder at least had a kind heart so you didn’t have to spend your earnings on therapy. Or a hospital visit.

It was slowly dawning on you that the crowd seemed more than a lil’ shady but it was far too late to back out now.

The auctioneer’s voice got louder as the bid got higher. Everything was moving too fast and you stopped actively listening in order to try not to get overwhelmed. 

You heard what sounded like the bang of a gavel against a podium (how absurd, this wasn’t a courthouse), before a disgruntled hush fell across the room. Looks like bidding was over. You saw the man who had climbed onto the table drop to an unhappy squat as he tossed his paddle on the floor in disgust. You would have laughed if you weren’t afraid.

You turned toward the auctioneer and watched his face as he spoke. You only caught part of his sentence  “-- come up and collect your date for the evening, you lucky man.”

You saw someone cross the room, followed by glares from the rest of the patrons. As he got closer, you could see that he seemed to be made of fog. Or was it mist? Either way, it was a rich purple, constantly ebbing and flowing to an unknown rhythm. 

He stopped at a polite distance and introduced himself, his voice calm and low. He already knew your name, thanks to the auctioneer.

He offered his hand to you and waited. You hesitantly approached, and placed your hand in his. It felt cool, but broad and firmer than you expected. You couldn’t place the texture - something between velvet and mist.

While you were mulling over the feeling of your hand in his, he opened a warp gate and guided you both through it.

What a way to reveal a quirk.

On the other side was the inside of a small house - traditionally built but with some modern accoutrements and a little worn around the edges - but most importantly, quiet.

It was a wonderful reprieve after the cacophony of the auction.

You both shucked off your shoes before entering the living room, where he guided you to sit at a low table. A teapot and cups were already waiting for you.

You watched curiously as he served you before himself, unsure what to make of any of it.

The auction, the man, the house, the tea. The sheer amount of money he had spent on a night with you. You could easily be set for a couple of years with how much he had shelled out, and yet here he was, hosting you with patience and care. 

You still had no idea what he wanted from you.

The steam from the tea lazily floated into the air. Kurogiri’s mist undulated at a different pace - a little faster - the plumes of his fog curling into each other at the edges, like small whirlpools. 

Was he nervous?

You looked at his eyes, and saw that he had been watching you just as intently.

Somehow, the connection was comfortable. It was rare to find someone you could sit in silence with without needing to fill the space.

You watched him curiously as you sipped your tea, waiting to see what would happen next.

He excused himself for a moment and left the room. Even the sound of the shoji door sliding shut sounded gentle.

You let yourself sink into the peace of the room while you waited.

Whatever would happen, would happen, but you could try to get some enjoyment out of it. Your practicality combined with your bouts of recklessness certainly landed you in some odd situations. Your good fortune let you slide out of potentially nasty situations just as easily as you got into them and you were sure someone out there was watching over you.

Some time later Kurogiri returned to the room and walked around the table to your side. He extended a hand to you again. You unfolded yourself from your sitting position and accepted his aid.

He led you out of the sitting room, down a short hall and to another room. You could smell moisture in the air as you approached, but couldn’t see past Kurogiri’s frame.

Once you got to the room, he stepped out of the way and gestured for you to enter.

You did so, and once you had crossed the threshold of the room, you heard the door close behind you.

You looked over the shoulder just to reassure yourself that the door was closed, before looking around at the rest of the room.

OK, there was a sink and a toilet, no surprises there. 

You moved into the adjoining room to discover a shower, accompanied by a large bathtub, filled with warm water and beckoning to you. There was a light fragrance wafting through the air, something earthy yet soothing.

There was a fluffy bathrobe laid out to the side.

Alright, you got the hint.

You disrobed and quickly showered, not wanting to waste any time that could be spent soaking in the tub. Once you settled in the tub, you felt your muscles warming up and all tension (and reason) escaping. You leaned against the back of the tub and let your eyes flutter shut.

You thought you heard Kurogiri enter and exit at some point (his passing only revealed by the sound of the opening and closing of the doors) but you couldn’t be bothered to look.

When you finally deigned to open your eyes, you noticed that your clothes were gone. Was he really going to wash them for you? Man, this guy’s hosting skills were above and beyond.

By now, the water had cooled off, so you slowly rose out of the tub, as if wishing could warm up the water. The tub had been the perfect size - no need for bathtub gymnastics or body parts sticking up out of the water like mountain tops, laid bare and chilled by the wind.

You reluctantly left the tub and dried yourself off before wrapping yourself in the bathrobe, which was the softest thing you had felt in your life. Would it be a faux pas to ask him where he had gotten it?

You saw that slippers had been left out for you and ignored them. You preferred to feel the polished wood of the floor underneath your feet.

You made your way out of the bathroom, and wandered out into the hall. Before you could venture too far out, Kurogiri approached from the opposite end. The streaks of his eyes were curved up a little. Was this his version of a smile? Combined with his vest, tie, and neck brace being gone, it made him look surprisingly vulnerable.

You got the impression that this was a rare sight and were both flattered and honored.

As he led you to yet another room, you noticed that you could feel no dust or debris underneath your feet. He or whoever had cleaned the house had done an impeccable job. The amount of attention that went into the care of the house and the graciousness that had been shown to you during your stay made something in your chest stir. Sure, this was an extremely odd situation to be in, but not a bad one, so far.

He stopped in front of another shoji door and slid it open carefully. You felt as if this would be your final destination for the night. Kurogiri bowed his head and then gestured for you to enter first. You beamed at him and then stepped into the room, wiggling your toes against the tatami. You heard him close the door before feeling his presence behind you.

A quick look across the room revealed an austere bedroom. A bed, comfortable and low to the ground, a couple of lamps, your clothes neatly folded and resting by the side of the bed. Somehow, seeing them there made you feel reassured.

“You may change if you like.” 

You turned around and looked up at him as you thought about what you’d like to do.

“I’m okay like this.”

He nodded, and you suddenly felt shy. Was it bold to stay in a bathrobe? Somehow, you didn’t want to change into your clothing - it felt like things would suddenly become more formal and distant.

He moved toward the bed and waited. You realized he was waiting for you to get in first. Your stomach clenched as you felt a bolt of fear pass through you and you took a slow breath in to steady yourself. 

You climbed into the bed and moved towards the center at the side farthest from the headboard to give Kurogiri room to maneuver and knelt. You watched him climb into the bed. The sight of him looming over you for a brief moment changed the fear at the bottom of your stomach into something else.

Kurogiri reclined against the headboard and patted the bed next to him. You noticed that the cuffs of his shirt were unbuttoned. His shirt was still buttoned up all the way.

You crawled up the bed toward him, careful not to let the bathrobe slip and reveal anything, and gingerly settled down next to him. You tentatively leaned against him, and he wrapped the arm closest to you around your shoulder. You settled in closer to him and your head ended up in the crook of his neck. The casual intimacy made your heart race.

You looked at the curve of his neck, watching his mist slowly form and rise up into the air before seeming to disappear. Could you disappear into him if you got too close? But no, that was a silly thought. His body, though lacking clearly defined edges, was definitely solid beneath and around you. He was both warmer than you expected and slightly cooler than you wanted.

You leaned a little bit closer, careful not to brush your nose against his neck and breathed in. He had a pleasant smell - it reminded you of a shrine in the forest. A hint of incense and trees, refreshing and sacred.

You felt his head lean against yours and did your best to relax despite the strangeness of the situation. His mist tickled against your hair. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see the gold streaks of his eyes almost disappear. He slowly shifted to angle his body more toward you, and caressed the side of your body with his free hand. He was careful not to stray too high or low.

You felt something inside of you shift with the tenderness of the gesture. It asked for nothing more. You felt the edges of reality become a bit fuzzy, like you were somewhere between the waking world and a dream. You sunk deeper into this feeling and felt Kurogiri relax next to you, as if he were going through the same thing.

He continued to touch you gently - how much time passed, you did not know. You began to feel streaks of desire light up through you, like shooting stars passing gently across your body. You did your best to ignore them, not wanting the moment to end or change. Kurogiri’s hand stopped moving and settled against your hip. You knew his hand was bigger than yours, but it felt even bigger curled around your hip. You felt the warmth of his touch as it slowly bled through the bathrobe. You took a deep breath, held it, and exhaled as you willed yourself to settle down.

You felt Kurogiri shift as something in the air changed, but all he did was place a tender kiss on your forehead.