#AND HE DROPPED HIS PAPERS IN FRONT OF THE WHOLE COURTROOM

[coveredinsun]

my mock trials are recorded which is fucking awesome because i love watching back how awfully i walked all over the lawyer attempting to trifle with me (make me look bad on cross examination)

#he got thrown off when i said something other than ‘good evening’ back to him at the start of my cross #and forgot an exhibit on my desk to which i asked ‘do you want this back?’ as i was leaving the stand #and i corrected him on a really wrong number #AND HE DROPPED HIS PAPERS IN FRONT OF THE WHOLE COURTROOM #IN FRONT OF HIS GRANDMA!!!!! i know she was there because i sat directly in front of her

[sporesmoldandfungi]

Flip City - Sued

Author's Note: This rewrite of my original sequel is heavily inspired by Channel Awesome's video on how they would fix the Ghostbusters 2 movie. I'm going to use roughly the same plot points from that video because it's more appealing to me as a writer, but I'm going to make it my own with Genevieve's relationships with everyone, especially Egon. Anyway, I hope you enjoy the first chapter!

Dana Barrett walked down the streets of New York, her heels clicking against the city pavement. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a gentleman selling today's paper. She stopped to read the headline "Ghostbusters V. The State of New York, Trial Today". She stopped in front of the small stand and picked up a copy, quickly skimming through the first few paragraphs.

The man poked his head up from reading his own paper. He took a deep sigh before speaking. "Drives me nuts, ya know? Those guys put their lives on the line for the city and how do we repay them? By suing the shit out of them. Property damage be damned, they saved my life and my family's lives, as well as countless others, that should be enough."

Dana smiled softly, "Yeah, I know what you mean."

The man took another sigh, "Man, I wouldn't wanna be them right now."

"Well, it's not that fun for me either." She replied.

"Why do you say that?" He asked.

"I'm engaged to one of them."

Across the city, in a courtroom full of people, The Ghostbusters sat waiting for the trial to begin. Genevieve sat in the audience in the front row, leaning over the railing to speak with Egon and the others.

"Where the hell is Dana? She's a key witness." Genevieve whispered to the four boys, frantically looking back at the doors, waiting for Dana to come running in any second.

"Relax, she'll be here." Egon reassured her.

Genevieve shut her eyes tighter than she ever did before, shaking her head slightly, as if when she opened them again, this whole mess would be gone, and things would be how they were before. But when she opened them, all she saw was Egon's worried expression. "I can't lose you, Egon."

"You won't." He spoke.

She shook her head again. "It's hard enough having to deal with the aftermath of having my entire mind and body taken over by a Babylonian god and watching from the front row as I almost killed everyone I loved. But to sit here and watch the four most important people in my life get locked up for fixing MY mess, I can't do it."

"Sumerian." He corrected, making Genevieve look at him puzzlingly. "You said Babylonian, Gozer is a Sumerian god. Gosh, you should know that above all." He teased, earning a sly smile from her otherwise worried expression.

"Well, when you suddenly get possessed, your main focus isn't what kind of god they are. So, excuse me for my ignorance." She quipped back. Her attention suddenly shot back to the matter at hand. She looked her wristwatch, showing her there were only five minutes until the trial began. She tapped Peter on the shoulder, "Venkman, where is Dana?"

Peter turned around, still looking unimpressed even though his whole future depended on the trial. "Dunno, she's supposed to be on her way. And by the way, would you cool it, Gozy? You stressing back there isn't helping us. We got enough on our plate. We're pretty much royally screwed with our attorney."

Genevieve looked confused until Louis Tully came stumbling into the courtroom. His arms full overflowing with documents and folders, almost dropping a few as he approached the Ghostbusters. With all of them being strapped for cash, he was the best they could do. He dropped his things on the table with a loud thud then leaned into the group, quietly and worriedly whispering, "I think you guys are making a huge mistake. I got my law degree at night school."

"That's alright, Louis, most of this happened at night," Ray said, promptly slamming his head on the table afterward.

The judge banged his gavel a couple of times, gaining everyone's attention. The Ghostbusters looked over to the prosecution and saw Walter Peck sitting with a few other lawyers, a smug smile plastered across his face.

"Before we begin this trial I want to 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?" the judge spoke, taking off his reading glasses and fixing his documents.

Winston scoffed, turning towards the others, "Sounds like a pretty open minded guy."

"They call him 'The Hammer'." Egon replied. Genevieve groaned and placed her head in her hands, her hope fading away with each second. Egon turned around, gently lifting her head up and caressing her cheek. "It'll be okay, no matter what. I love you."

She smiled into his hand, kissing it gently, "I love you too."

The gavel came down again, "All right, all right, let's get on with it."

Louis nervously approached the judge, fixing his glasses messily before speaking, his voice wavering with anxiety. He cleared his throat before speaking again, "Your Honor, ladies and gentlemen of the- of the audience. I don't think it's fair to call my clients frauds! Okay, so the blackout was a big problem for everybody, okay? I was stuck in an elevator for two hours and I had to make the whole time. But I don't blame them! Because one time I turned into a dog and they helped me. Thank you."

Chuckles were heard echoing in the courtroom and Louis held his head down in shame, walking back over to the Ghostbusters.

"Very good, Louis. Short but pointless." Egon said.

The trial seemed to drag on. City rep after city rep went on and on about the damages and costs the Ghostbusers caused. Walter Peck went on his usual spiel, claiming the Ghostbusters were frauds and no good liars. Louis made a fool of himself, Peter couldn't care less in his testimony, Ray cared more than anyone.

Egon couldn't even focus on what was being said, all he could hear was Genevieve's foot bob anxiously behind him. She hasn't been the same since Gozer. Sure, he was overjoyed to finally be in a romantic relationship with her, and she felt the same. But even that wasn't enough to stop the panic attacks, the nightmares, the anxiety that followed her every day. And he couldn't do much to help. He was stuck watching the love of his life morph into a shell of her former self, and it not only broke his heart, but it scared him beyond belief. Would she ever be that girl again? Or is this the new norm?

Below the city where the old Van Horn station used to be, a blood-red river of slime flowed directly below them. Churning and pulsating, fueled by the fear of every New Yorker, which nowadays, there seems to be a lot of. As the trial came to a close, the slime began to travel upwards, inching its way closer and closer to the surface, fueled by the fear and anxiety of the five Ghostbusters and the judge began to read the verdict.

"Peter Venkman, Raymond Stantz, Winston Zeddemore, Egon Spengler, stand up. Get up! You too, Mr. Tully. I find you guilty on all charges! I order you to pay fines in the amount of $25,000 each! I sentence you to eighteen months in the city correctional facility at Rikers Island! On a more personal note, let just me go on record as saying that there is no place for fakes, charlatans and tricksters like you in decent society! You prey upon the gullibility of innocent people!  And believe me, if my hands were not tied by the unalterable fetters of the law! And I would indulge in the tradition of our illustrious forbears reach back, to a purer, sterner justice, and have you burned at the stake!" The judge roars, fully rising from his seat with the last sentence.

As soon as the judge finished reading, or screaming, the verdict, the slime had finally penetrated the surface, slipping through a crack that lay directly beneath the judge. A loud explosion made the entire courtroom shake and a bright ray of light revealed two cackling ghosts, one tall and lanky, the other short and stout. Full-blown chaos broke out, people began screaming and ran out the doors, leaving only the Ghostbusters, Louis, the judge, and Walter Peck in the room.

The eight of them quickly ran for cover, trying to find a way out. The judge cried out to the Ghostbusters, "It's the Scoleri Brothers! I tried them for murder, gave them the chair! You gotta do something!"

"Why don't you tell them you don't believe in ghosts?" Egon quipped.

The ghosts cackled louder, chasing more people out the courtroom. The judge looked white as a ghost, shaking with fear, "You gotta do something, help me!"

"Don't talk to me, talk to my attorney." Ray said.

"And that's me! My guys are still under a judicial mistrangement order! That blue thing I got from her! They could be exposing themselves!" Louis said, waving documents in the judge's face.

"And you don't want us exposing ourselves!" Peter added, making Egon and Winston roll their eyes.

Walter Peck intervened, "Your honor, you can't actually be considering this."

As the judge, Peck, and the other Ghostbusters all argued with one another, Egon turned around to see Genevieve, shaking and holding onto herself tight. He approached her, wrapping his arms around her waist, pulling her close. She quickly grabbed onto him, holding on as tight as she could.

"I can't do this, Egon. I can't be a Ghostbuster." she said into his chest, a tear escaping her eye.

He held her close, stroking her auburn hair gently. "I'm afraid we don't have a choice, darling." He pulled her back so he could look at her in the eyes as he spoke. "We are the only ones who can stop things like this from happening. And you, Genevieve Stratford, are one of the bravest people I know. You have to take that fear and channel it into something deeper, something bigger than us, something that can light that fire in you and make you strong. Do you think you can do that for me?"

He saw the confliction in her eyes, but still, she nodded. "You're right, you're always right."

He smiled, "And I promise you, I won't let anyone, or anything hurt you, ever again, okay?"

She nodded again, "Okay, I trust you."

By the time Egon got a remnant of the old Genevieve back, Peck was being ushered away by the judge and the remaining Ghostbusters began walking towards their proton packs. They all suited up, groaning as they pulled the heavy proton packs over their backs.

"Oh… oh, I always hated this part of the business. You know, it's been a couple of years since we used this stuff. I hope it still works." Peter said, groaning as he adjusted the pack on his back.

"It should. The power cells have a half-life of five thousand years." Egon said, situating his and Genevieve's packs.

"Well, there's no time for a bench test! Heat em up!" Ray said excitedly.

Peter was the first to switch his on, a low musical hum ringing out. He smirked and sang, "Doe..."

Ray followed suit, smiling and joining in with a "Re..."

Egon followed, adding "Egon!". The others looked at him, but he just smirked, proud of his play on words.

The room began to vibrate with that familiar uneasy feeling whenever a ghost was present. Chairs soon began to fly up in the air, moving quickly towards the five Ghostbusters.

Ray quickly opens fire, the others following but they all miss. The Scoleri reveal themselves briefly then disappear. Thinking the job was already done, they slowly broke out into quiet chuckles and giggles. Peter got cocky and began to imitate the fat brother, but was caught off by the Scoleri joining in on the laughter, revealing themselves again.

Peter quickly fired and got a good grip on the fatter brother. "Come on big boy! Let's go! Let's go! I'm gonna take you home to my private zoo!"

"You got him! You got him! Spengie, bring out the trap!" Ray shouts excitedly.

The tall one, quickly flew behind Ray and Winston, catching Egon's attention as he grabbed the trap. "Behind you, Ray!"

Ray and Winston fired, catching it in a tight confinement stream. Genevieve ran towards Peter, seeing him struggle with the fatter brother. She fired and her proton stream wrapped around the waist of the ghost, dancing in harmony with Peter's confinement stream around the ghoul's legs. The two teams began to herd the ghosts towards where Egon was setting up the trap.

Before Egon activated the trap, both of the Scoleri brothers' heads turned to face Genevieve. In two deep and strangled voices they roared, "Join us, Genevieve."

Her eyes widened and she sceamed, "The trap, Egon!"

He quickly activated it, the portal blinding the five as the Scoleri Brothers got sucked into the trap.

The four boys laughed triumphantly, huddling around the trap. Genevieve was laughing too but was still trying to register what those ghosts just said to her. No ghost had ever spoken to her, let alone know her name. Egon held out his hand, and she accepted it, joining the huddle.

"Two in the box!" Ray began.

"Ready to go!" Peter and Winston chimed in.

"We be fast!" Egon and Genevieve added.

"And they be slow!" They all cheered.

They walked out of the courtroom, greeted by hundreds of reporters and onlookers. As Peter declared their victory, Genevieve stood back, trying to grapple the ghosts' message, "Join us." Egon looked over to her, giving her a reassuring smile. She returned it, smiling at the reporters and at Ray as he cheered triumphantly, but the Scoleri Brother's voices still echoed in her head.

"Join us, Genevieve."

#ghostbusters #egon spengler #peter venkman #ray stanz #winston zeddemore #dana barrett #ghostbusters 2 #ghostbusters 1989 #peter #egon #egon x oc #egon spengler x oc #egon spengler x reader #egon x reader

[1rsoldiersince2012]

Bound by Law (Matt Murdock x reader)

Words: 2584 (chapter 22)

Summary:

You and Matt met in the courtroom. Now, you may think that Matt was a knight in shining armour and defended you in the name of all United States laws, but that was not the case. Matt was totally destroying your client, and you wanted to tear him into pieces right then and right there, because with Murdock as your rival, your head is on the firm's plate with each case. Did Matt care? No, he only cared about bringing justice, he was a human-machine, driven by the need to bring righteousness no matter the cost. Or was he just that? What happens when you get involved in Fisk's business and Daredevil's lies against your will?

UPDATES EVERY other FRIDAY ?

Find my other accounts on ao3 and wattpad!

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1rSoldierSince2012

wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/user/1rsoldierSince2012

22. In the Blood

While you were lying in bed with a book, trying to distract yourself from what happened earlier, so painfully aware of Robert's presence next door, Matt found himself engaging in another conflict with the Russians. As well as has Wesley.

Although Fisk's business has been going on quite well recently, the Russians became a problem and Wesley's headache yet again. Simply because they were unable to contain the Devil of Hell's Kitchen. Wesley confidently strides into the taxi workshop, looking up and down at the two men in the middle of the garage. "Oof, those look like they hurt." He mutters with no emotions of compassion or mercy. Only sheer disappointment.

"I've had worse." Anatoly answers with a thick Russian accent, making Wesley's ears bleed. Oh, how much he hated working with them, yet he had to admit that the Russians were a cheap brute force, but... They started slipping too much recently.

"I know how much your people delight in extolling the amount of pain they can endure, but maybe next time you could try ducking? Leland's finalized the paperwork. Prohaszka's holdings in Kitchen Cab have been acquired and transferred via third party to Veles Taxi. Your distribution infrastructure just doubled." Wesley spills quickly, maintaining the same relaxed tone the whole time. Tone that was intimidating everyone.

"Tell your employer we are grateful." Anatoly takes the papers from Wesley's hands and slips through some pages.

"Don't think he really cares at the moment. You were light again this week." Wesley looks at the two men in front of him, beat to a pulp, yet still cocky.

"There was a complication." Vladimir intervenes, saving Anatoly's ass from the deadly stare.

"One you assured us you were addressing." Wesley rolls his eyes slightly, crossing his arms.

Vladimir hurries to remind Wesley about his brother, "Do you know what he was asking? This fool who laid hands on my brother?"

Wesley refrains from rolling his eyes again, and just wants to get out of this filthy place as soon as possible, "not my concern."

"It should be. He was asking about your employer, by name." Anatoly steps in the chat again.

"All the more reason to settle this. You sneeze, we all catch a cold. Madame Gao and Mr. Nobu have expressed their disappointment." Wesley simply answers, watching how Anatoly's eyes got bigger upon the mentioning of Gao.

"We have not heard of this." Vladimir breaks the short silence.

"Hmm," Wesley hums throatily, "that's because we've been talking behind your back, about how the Russians can't seem to handle one man running around in a mask. I mean, if he had an iron suit or a magic hammer, maybe that would explain why you keep getting your asses handed to you-"

Vladimir starts walking off before the sentence is finished, with Anatoly following him. "We're done here."

"He's weakened your operation." Wesley drops, pushing his glasses up his nose.

Vladimir turns back on his heel and quickly returns to Wesley, trying to prove who's the man of this place by standing close to Wesley. "You think us weak?"

"This isn't personal, Vladimir. It's business. Distribution of Madame Gao's product has been affected, which in turn is causing delays in other ventures. This is not acceptable. Fortunately for all parties, my employer has agreed to help return you to solid footing."

"How?"

"By aiding you in certain duties deemed vital to the continuation of service-" Wesley smirks a little, while Vladimir turns to leave again.

"He wants to take over."

"We value the services you provide, but clearly," Wesley says louder, laughing under his breath, "you need help providing them. We'll all profit nicely under the new structure."

"How nicely?" Anatoly stops Vladimir with one hand.

The men exchange a row of words in Russian, making Wesley sick from the language again, although he regretted now that working with Russians, he had a language barrier. The feeling of being not superior in the situation was crushing to say the least. Vladimir finally turns to look at Wesley, "tell Mr. Fisk-"

"We don't say his name." Wesley cuts right away, instantly annoyed.

"Tell... Mr. Fisk..." Vladimir says again, this time more confidently, "that if he wants a pound of flesh... he can come here and carve it himself."

Wesley exhales through his nose loudly. "This is an offer, not an order. The choice of how we proceed is yours. Talk it over with your brother. We'll be in touch." Turning on his heel, he leaves the garage, returning to the black SUV, where Fisk was already waiting for him.

Vladimir and Anatoly continue arguing in the garage, finally deciding on sneaking into the hospital to get more information from Semyon.  Meanwhile, Wesley closes the doors and immediately takes off his glasses, rubbing his eyes for a moment. Fisk patiently waits for him to say anything, intently following every movement of the man in front of him. Although he was the same man that he knew, there was something different about Wesley today. Something so small and simple that it was not visible to the eye of the cold-blooded maestro in the black suit.

"Anatoly may be the way in. He seems more amenable to the proposition, or at least not quite as...vitriolic as his brother." He finally says, not putting his glasses on yet. 

"Well, confrontations can be expensive. I'd prefer to handle this quietly. How are we on the timeline?" Fisk asks immediately.

"Within a reasonable margin. Assuming we can settle with the Russians quickly."

"We will. One way or another."

"What about the masked idiot?" Wesley clutches his glasses slightly, knowing that the force he applied might be enough for them to break. The fact that The Devil not only ruined their business, but also hurt you, was enough for him to finally snap and punish that idiot himself.

Fisk sighs slightly, "If the brothers can't handle him, I'll find another solution."

Car stops and Fisk immediately grabs the handle, blocking Wesley's arm from doing the same thing. " You stay with the car, I need to attend this alone." Fisk rasps, and gets out, leaving Wesley alone in the backseat, with some idiot behind the wheel.

Fisk has told him about his plans to ask Vanessa out to dinner. Of course, he was happy for his boss, but a little voice at the back of his head was laughing at him at times. Wesley remembered how cowardly he felt today when he kissed your cheek before leaving. That idiot Robert has spoiled everything. Wesley curses under his breath. He didn't even get a chance to pay the bill. Yet, the fact that he managed to kiss your cheek, to get even a little bit of physical contact was both calming and driving him insane. Of course, this was all a part of a big plan, the important dots on a huge map, but he couldn't stop that fire burning with jealously inside of him. When Robert asked you about sleeping at your place, Wesley felt the urge to take out his gun and just blow his brains out. A small, sudden sound snaps Wesley out of the trance that he was in. Looking down into his lap, he notices how he crushed his glasses, and the sharp pieces sticking into his palm made him bleed, proving that just like every other man, he was indeed vulnerable. With no panic evident on his face, only a slight frown, Wesley takes out a handkerchief from his pocket, calmly picking out the shards and wrapping what was left of his glasses into the soft material. The blood kept slowly oozing, yet James didn't hurry to wipe it. Something about that made the situation both poetic and ridiculous. 

Fisk returns rather quickly, not noticing the bloody hand of his most trusted man, and bragging about how successfully the conversation went. Wesley shoots a small, understanding smile, balling his bleeding palm into a tight fist. 

***  

Russians kept Matt busy. In fact, they kept everyone busy, turning themselves into the city's biggest headache in a matter of weeks. After Claire stitched Matt up last night, he got a burner phone for the sake of her safety, and yet the worst has happened again. The phone call that Claire managed to make before she was dragged out of her flat, made Matt feel the fire was catching up with him, thinking that because of his dumb decisions, an innocent woman might not make it till the dawn of the next morning. 

And while Matt goes on another rescue mission, putting criminals into their places, Foggy finds himself in Marci's bed again. Instead of drowning in a pile of case papers, he was drowning in the sea of white, over-perfumed sheets. Over and over again, he told himself that Marci was no good, and yet, he kept coming back to her like a moth keeps flying towards the flame.

Ironically, Matt was the one who encouraged Foggy to move on, and still, Matt himself kept the record of one-night hookups, up until they had a case against you. There was something so sinful, so strong about you that he, as a devoted Christian, was ready to commit that sin. Right now, there was no time to think about you, especially when he was beating the crap out of those Russians, but later, back in Claire's kitchen, when Matt was stitching her up, he felt the need to do anything to protect you from Wesley. Claire, still recovering from the shock, proved to Matt that the city needs protection, the city need him in that stupid mask, and you... You need him in that stupid mask as well. 

*** 

Matt returned home late. From the sounds of the city, he was guessing that it was around 2 AM. Exactly 10 hours until the court. And 7 hours until he sees you again. 6 hours until he goes to church. And 5 hours of actual sleep. If he will even manage to fall asleep. The stress of running around was catching up with him, Matt felt drained, but the emotions of people he saved, especially Claire were still raw, still getting under his skin and tearing his heart apart. How long will he be able to be sponge that takes in all of the pain and all of the emotions from others? When will Matt be able to not only give himself to others, but actually get something in return? Matt sighs loudly and lays on his back. The sheets felt like a thousand needles stabbing his back, but maybe it was because he felt like he was missing a part of himself, like he was living his whole life incomplete.

With only 5 hours of sleep Matt was dressed in his best suit, making his way towards the church. Father Lantom was sitting outside the church, wrapped up in a long black coat. The shy rays of sun illuminated his face, making him look like a saint. "Haven't seen you here in a while."

Matt feels startled, although he knew that Father always somehow saw him, even in the biggest crowd. "Well, I've been busy." Matt sits down next to him and inhales the cold weather, feeling somewhat relaxed when it fills his lungs.

"I know." Father turns to look at Matt, even more tired than he usually was. "The press loves this new mysterious figure."

"I don't think 'loves' is the word to use here, Father." Matt smiles shyly for a moment, but then his lips turn to thin line on their own.

"Love has many meanings, Matt." Father intently watches Matt for any kind of reaction, any twitch of muscles, yet he receives none. "Care to discuss what's on your heart over a cup of latte?"

"Yeah.. Sure." Matt gives up running away from those offers, not wanting to hurt the old man anymore. 

"Finally someone agreed, I've been wanting to try it since they brought the machine here." Father talks along the way, just to keep the mood of conversation going, before Matt returns to his old, quiet self. "You've got court today or do you go to work dressed like that now?"

The question throws Matt off a little, and he grins again. "Like what?"

"Ellegant." Father watches the cup filling up with steaming liquid.

"I threw on the first thing I touched."

"It was with that nicely folded handkerchief as well?" Father Lantom puts the cup in front of Matt and sits down too. Matt doesn't answer, meaning that the quick banter will be put to rest now. "Anything you'd like to say, Matthew?"

"I'd say that I'm a fool but you already knew that." Matt leans over the cup and inhales the sweet aroma, which is oddly so similar to your perfume that the thought makes him shake his head slightly.

"That goes without saying. Maybe you wanna talk about what happened in that fancy lawyer firm?" Father asks as carefully as possible, feeling the need to somehow crack the man in front of him.

"A friend of mine got hurt. That's it."

"Yet the press is saying that you're the one who hurt her."

"It was an accident, and I was an idiot." 

"Why did you go there?" Father presses, wanting to know the truth from Matt himself.

"Because..." I care. He wanted to let it out, to say those words, but something was just stuck in his throat, preventing him from doing so. "I couldn't let an innocent person get involved in a shady business."

"Did you succeed?"

"If by succeed you mean that she got shot, then no."

Father falls silent, thinking over his next words. The look on Matt's face was unreadable, something new and unusual to Lantom. "Does she know about you? The other you."

"No. No one knows. No one will know."

"And what shady business was she getting into?"

Matt scoffs a little, finally taking the cup into his hands, "her boss tried to fake the evidence. Whole case is a mess." Father opens his mouth for another question, but Matt beats him to the answer, "she started working for us yesterday."

"Oh. Now I see why the fancy costume is on display." Father laughs slightly, but gets serious as soon as he notices Matt's furrowed eyebrows. "You care about her, don't you? Enough to risk your identity getting revealed just to save her from bad decisions?"

Matt takes a sip of the drink, taking his time with the answer. But this silence says enough for Father. 

"Matt, you have to-"

"I care about everyone in this city, Father, and last night I risked a woman's life with the Russians. I can't let anyone close to me because they will end up getting hurt." Matt feels like he's back in Claire's apartment, listening to her heart ramming in her chest violently.

"Can't let anyone close to Matt Murdock or close to the Devil of Hell's Kitchen?"

"If they get close to one, the other becomes a threat."

"If it's really like that, Matthew, you've got a problem in... separating them. Don't let the Devil get the upper hand. Find your anchor, someone to keep you to your true self."

"Here I thought you were gonna bring God into the conversation." Matt scoffs again, finishing the latte.

"I'm afraid that God won't be much of a help, you have to sort it out yourself before it's too late. Open up yourself to others, Matthew, don't take away other people's darkness, thinking that it won't affect you too." Father finishes, from the movements of Matt guessing that he'll be soon leaving.

"Yeah, thanks for the drink, Father." Matt gets up with a slight struggle, which earns him a a reproachful look. 

"Don't get lost, child." Father calls one last time before Matt loudly closes the doors of the church. 

#matt murdock #matthew murdock #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock fanfic #human disaster matt murdock #foggy nelson #karen page #james wesley #wilson fisk #marvel daredevil #marvel #daredevil #daredevil fanfiction #netflix daredevil #lawyers #bound by law #father lantom

[iboatedhere]

“A cop? Really?”

TK heaves a sigh and digs his fork a little deeper into his salad. The tines of the plastic fork pierce the styrofoam and he rolls his eyes as dressing leaks out and onto the picnic table.

He grabs a napkin from the stack that Paul brought and mops up the mess.

“Thanks a lot, Mateo,” he grumbles as he balls up the dirty napkin in his fist.

“What did I do,” Mateo asks, mid-chew and Marjan rolls her eyes before she unwraps her own burrito.

“We didn’t hear it from Mateo,” she says and Paul nods.

“We didn’t need to. That courtroom was packed full, man. A whole bunch of people saw you lose your shit over a cop.”

“I did not lose my shit,” TK repeats. “It was just...an unfortunate accident.”

“That happened twice,” Paul says and Marjan nods.

“That’s a pattern,” she adds quickly.

“It was an accident,” TK says more forcefully.

He’s standing by that. He’ll put his hand on the bible and swear it in front of a judge and jury if he has to. The fact that he dropped his entire file folder of notes and questions as soon as Officer Reyes took the witness stand was merely a coincidence and any evidence to the contrary is purely circumstantial.

The fact that it happened a second time, after he and Mateo spent far too long rounding up every single piece of paper and putting them back in some kind of working order was damning, he’ll admit, but it doesn’t make it any less accidental.

“The folder slipped from my hand,” he says lamely and Paul and Marjan laugh.

“Yeah,” Paul agrees, “because your palms were so sweaty from losing your mind over a cop.”

“In my defense,” TK says as he points the fork at Paul, “it was an extremely hot cop.”

Read More On Ao3

#am i back on my canva bullshit?? I most certainly am #all photos were taken from unsplash which is an open source if you're concerned #911 lone star #911 lone star fic #tarlos #tarlos fic

[ncssian]

A Favor: Part Six

Nessian Modern AU

Masterlist

a/n: nsfw sort of?? barely

***

Cassian is going to kill Nesta.

He’s never met a woman so stubborn that she would rather throw herself under a bus than accept help from others.

“What happened to your rants about universal healthcare and redistributing wealth?” He gestures furiously between the two of them while keeping one hand on the steering wheel. “I’m trying to redistribute the wealth!”

She scoffs from the passenger seat. “Nice try, comrade. I’m not letting you dangle your wallet over me while I live with you for free. It’s disgusting and manipulative.”

Cassian wants to grab her by the shoulders and shake her. “Why do you automatically assume I’m trying to manipulate you?” he says incredulously.

“You don’t get to pay for my things,” she snaps. “They’re mine.”

“I know you’re already broke from that MRI—”

“That’s none of your business.”

They pull up to one of the university buildings. “Oh, great argument.” Cassian brings the truck to a stop. “Are you gonna use that one in court?”

Nesta buttons her blue blazer and furiously grabs her things, not saying a word.

“What are you thinking now?” Cassian pokes, the hardness dissolved from his voice a little.

She shoves the passenger door open. “How much longer it’s going to take to get my car fucking fixed,” she bites, hopping out of the truck and slamming the door shut on Cassian’s face.

Clenching his jaw, he watches her walk sharply for the building, tension ratcheting her figure. Impossible woman.

She does look damn good in a pantsuit, though.

***

Nesta has to take deep breaths before she enters the mock courtroom, refusing to let Cassian get to her head right now.

It's not his offering to pay for her endometriosis treatment that pisses her off, but it's that he won't take no for an answer. She wishes he could just let her dig herself into a hole of debt and despair like millions of Americans already do every day. She wishes he wouldn't demand an explanation from her every time she screams and cries about getting her way.

Later. Her mind clears through an imaginary filter. You’ll deal with him later.

Now, she has a case to win.

Nesta strides into the courtroom with her file of documents and takes the speaker’s bench, her opponent already seated on the other side of the aisle. Emerie Nikolis is five feet nine inches of Mediterranean goddess, and the only student at Prythian Law who’s been able to challenge Nesta for her spot at the top of the class. Not that she’s succeeded.

Nesta’s never been up against another woman for a moot court, though, and it adds a buzz to her nerves. Men always come into the courtroom with too much confidence and not enough research, and from there Nesta can steadily dismantle their arguments until they’re left spluttering. From Emerie’s cutting hawk eyes, Nesta knows she doesn’t function like that.

As student judges file in and head for their seats, Nesta leans over and mutters to Emerie, “Good luck defending the side that represents everything morally corrupt with this country.”

Emerie brushes back her ponytail and smiles mockingly at Nesta. “You mean the side that powerful white men have chosen since the beginning of time? I won’t need luck.”

Nesta scowls at the panel of student judges. They are all white men.

“You’re lucky I enjoy a challenge,” she hisses, and sits back in her seat as they start calling oyez.

***

Cassian doesn’t mean to fall asleep.

He’s cleaning up around the house while Nesta is gone, and ends up finding a worn paperback trapped between the leather cushions of the couch. Pulling it out, he takes one look at the cover and nearly chokes. A half-undressed man graces the cover in regency-era clothes, his flowy shirt unbuttoned to reveal toned abs. A woman with golden curls clutches onto him passionately, only dressed in a corset and underskirt.

A slow smirk spreads over his face and he snickers. He didn't know people read these anymore. A glance at the back of the book proves his point: published in 1999, a true vintage piece.

Plopping onto the couch and laying back, he opens the paperback. If Nesta doesn't want him reading her books, she shouldn't leave them lying around the place.

Flipping to a random page, he frowns when it isn't a smut scene. Boring. He keeps flipping until he finds one, and props his feet onto the armrest to get comfortable. Now what exactly does Nesta Archeron get off to?

Over an hour and a hundred pages of surprisingly tender romance later, his aching eyes finally slip closed. The open book falls onto his face, and the scent of faded ink follows him into sleep.

Cassian is in a dim candle-lit room. Foiled wallpaper and overstuffed furniture decorates the space, and there, by the small window, she waits.

She turns her head to speak over her shoulder, “You came.”

“I did.” The line comes to him naturally.

Without turning around, her hands reach up for her hair. She starts removing pins from her updo, golden curls falling apart one by one. Once the last pin drops, she finally turns around.

Gleaming locks now frame her soft face and shoulders; her pale breasts rise and fall above the low curve of her thin nightgown. Under the candlelight, she looks freshly forged and porcelain-like at the same time.

“Could you help me?” Nesta says.

Cassian is stuck in his spot, unable to move. He's never seen Nesta like this: so heavenly, but so different.

“Cassian?” she asks again.

“Oh,” he stutters, “um— what do you need?”

She steps closer. “You.” His breathing stops. Nesta slips her slender hands up his arms, to his shoulders. She's holding him close. “I need you to tell me something.”

“Anything.”

Her breath fans over his face. “Do you want me?”

Cassian is very still.

“Do you want me like I want you, Cassian?” she repeats, pressing closer to him. He can feel her nipples through the wispy fabric of her gown.

“Yes,” he breathes shakily. He doesn't know which hurts more: wanting Nesta or being wanted by her.

“Have you been very lonely, Cassian?” She drags her hands back down his arms, finding his hands and placing them on her shoulders. “Is that why you like having me around so much, because you’ve been lonely?”

This Nesta knows him… a little too well. His breath hitches as his hands, directed by Nesta’s hands, slowly pushes down the sleeves of her nightgown. In a flash, the fabric has dropped to her waist, baring her unblemished chest and stomach. Before Cassian can even absorb what's happening, her arms are winding around his neck again, and now she's pressing entreating kisses into the crook of his neck.

“Tell me,” she mutters onto his skin. “Do I make you feel heard, or am I just a pretty face to you?”

“Nes—Nesta.” Cassian tries to swallow air.

She smells so good. She feels so good, and she's not even doing anything to him, just holding him.

“Heard,” he gasps when she goes for the buttons of his shirt, her mouth finding his chest. “You make me feel heard. I like it when we talk and you listen to me. Nobody listens to me.”

She pulls away from him, mouth shining. He just now realizes how jarring the gilded ringlets of her hair are.

“That’s so good,” Nesta purrs, reaching up to clasp his face. Her hands feel thin and rough, like paper. “You’re so good.” She reaches in, her lips chasing his, and—

Awareness seeps into the corners of Cassian’s reality, and his eyes peel open. He blinks between two different worlds until he finally realizes— it was a dream.

Of course it was a dream. Nesta doesn't have blonde hair or curls. And her skin isn't porcelain smooth, but dotted with freckles and moles. And yet, the arousal stirred in him is very much real, evident by the ache in his dick. Fuck.

A throat clears softly and Cassian jumps. The romance book is still on his face, he notices, and his world is darkened by the rough pages. Batting it away, confused, he fully awakens when he sees who’s in front of him.

She’s still in her pantsuit from this morning, but her hair is undone and her cheeks carry a rare flush. Her clothes are rumpled.

“Nesta.” He scrambles upright, painfully aware that he was just dreaming about her half-naked. He carefully arranges his elbows on his knees, his hands dangling between his legs. “You’re back,” he says casually. Taking notice of the blackness outside the windows, he becomes concerned. “You’ve been out this whole time? Oh God, I was supposed to pick you up—”

“No, no,” she says quickly. “Didn’t you see my texts? I went out with some people from moot court.”

Cassian widens his eyes. He’s never heard her mention any friends from school, much less leave the cabin to hang out with other people.

“I totally kicked this girl’s ass in the Title IX case I was telling you about,” Nesta goes on, “and she wanted to take me out for afternoon drinks, and some other guys ended up tagging along too…” She twists a piece of hair around her finger, the experience sounding as brand new to her as Cassian suspects it is. “And yeah, then she got me a cab.”

He raises a brow and leans back. “You willingly let someone else pay for you? Wow, you really are drunk.”

The smile blossoming on her mouth drops and the cold veneer returns. “So you go through my stuff while I’m gone?” she scolds. “How many times are we going to have the boundaries conversation?”

Cassian picks up the paperback still on the couch. “Oh, this? This was just a little light reading. You know, since I share my Netflix and Prime with you, I figured you could share your period-piece smut with me.” He fans through the pages, trying to find the spot he left off on. “I didn’t even know people read physical romance books anymore. That’s like me keeping VHS tapes of porn instead of using my phone.”

Nesta stomps over and snatches the book out of his hands. “It’s not like I enjoy owning books with ugly covers,” she hisses. “I get headaches reading e-books. And this is a classic.” She carefully wipes at the cover as if Cassian got dirt all over it.

Cassian tries to snatch it back. “I wasn’t done with it,” he grits. “Nesta, give it back.”

“I’m glad we brought up boundaries,” she says instead. “Because we need to talk about this morning.” Shoving the book into her pants waistband, she peels off her blazer and takes a seat on the coffee table in front of Cassian.

Cassian blinks, gripped by the authority in her movements. Nesta pokes a finger at his chest. “What you said bothered me all day. Nearly ruined my night. So I’m telling you now, I’m not taking your money for anything, ever. And if you bring up the topic again, I’m moving out.” She sounds dead serious.

He’s not afraid of her. “I’m bringing up the topic now,” he pushes back, his tone hard. “As someone who considers you a friend, I don’t like to see my friends struggling.”

Nesta blinks, and maybe finally accepts that she can’t fight her way out of this, because she drops her finger. “I can’t be financially dependent on a man, Cassian,” she admits, refusing to look away from him. “I’ve done it before, and it’s no way to live life. I don’t care how nice you are; I’m not taking your money. And you can’t make me.” She doesn’t shout or hiss that last part. It’s said with a quiet strength, and it makes Cassian want to concede everything. If this is about her ex-boyfriend, then he doesn’t want to be anything like him.

But it doesn’t change the fact that her health is still on the line. “What if you don’t take my money?” he says quickly. “What if I make you work for it?”

Law school doesn’t allow for part-time jobs on the side, and Nesta’s been scraping by with scholarships and leftover money from her father’s will. The suffering is worth it now, she told Cassian once, if she’s at a law firm the year after next with a starting salary of 100K.

Nesta purses her lips, skeptical. “What kind of work?”

“You can be a legal consultant for Night Court.”

“Do I look qualified to be a legal consultant?” She’s glaring now.

“Well, it’s either that or you get to be my personal assistant.” Nesta looks even more outraged at that, and Cassian holds up his hands. “I respect your need to stay independent,” he says, “but you can’t convince me that a handout or two is worse than going broke.” Cassian himself would be dead right now without all the handouts he got over the course of his life. “Please, Nesta,” he says quietly. “Think about it for me. And if you still hate it, I’ll never bother you about it again.” Even though it would kill him.

Nesta stares at him, the gears in her brain visibly turning. Finally— “Rhysand’s company does run on handouts anyway,” she mutters, glancing away. “What’s one more?”

Before Cassian can drop to his knees and thank her, she whips her head back to him. “But I want to do real work, Cassian. Not the pretense of work while I get a fat paycheck.”

He bursts into a grin and grabs her arms. “I’m gonna work you so hard.” He kisses her hard on the cheek.

Nesta makes a choking noise and starts coughing, and Cassian realizes how that sounded. “Did I say something wrong?” he plays innocent.

Nesta’s face is red for reasons other than alcohol now, but she covers it up by shoving Cassian hard enough to send him into the couch cushions. “Asshole.” She pulls her book out of her waistband and throws it at Cassian’s chest. “Have your romance back, I’m going to bed.”

“Hey— wait, it's six p.m. What about the puzzle?” he calls after her. She ignores him and keeps walking.

“Fine,” he says to her back, “but don't go to sleep with your contacts in again; you're gonna hurt yourself.”

As she reaches the stairs, he adds, “I’m proud of you for the moot court, by the way. I’m telling everybody you're the smartest person I know.”

Nesta pauses briefly at that, before saying, “Goodnight, Cassian,” and continuing up to her room.

Later that night, Cassian does want to tell everybody that Nesta is the smartest person he knows. She's the smartest, coolest, and wittiest person he knows, full stop, with killer looks and a criminally underrated personality. But something is holding him back from sharing his feelings with the rest of the world.

It's the same feeling that's had him avoiding Feyre these last few weeks. The unspoken knowledge that not everybody sees Nesta the way Cassian does, paired with the fierce desire to protect her from any sort of criticism.

He doesn't have any definitive proof to justify his feelings, but he knows he can't stop thinking about Nesta. He knows his friends will take notice of the change in his behavior eventually, so in a fit of restlessness, he reaches for his phone to test a theory.

Scrolling through his contacts, Cassian eventually settles on Mor. She's close to Feyre and Cassian both, has an inclination to gossip, and she’s never interacted with Nesta. Perfect.

Cassian: what do you think of Nesta?

He's straightforward with her the way he always is, the way she always is with him.

Mor answers quickly without question: didn’t she let feyre work her ass off at age 14 while she sat around and did nothing?

Mor: she sounds like a bitch and i have yet to see anything to the contrary.

Mor: she has very nice eyes though

Mor: if u know what i mean ( . )( . )

Cassian wishes he hadn’t even asked. He doesn’t even know how to reply to that, so he’s about to turn his phone off when another message from Mor comes in.

Mor: why do you ask? how are things going with you two?

Cassian sighs deeply, not in the mood to start a fight with one of his best friends. He never told Feyre about taking Nesta to the doctor, or the following MRI and diagnosis. The last time he had a real conversation with Feyre was the first night of Nesta’s period, when he was worried sick over how to take care of her.

“What should I do, Feyre? She's crying herself sick upstairs and all I have is this stupid hot towel.”

“You don't have to do that,” she sighed tiredly over the phone. “Nesta goes through this every month. She’ll survive. Don’t get yourself worked up over nothing.”

That was when he decided he was calling a doctor no matter what.

And now… He’s confused and upset and he doesn't know why. Instead of arguing with Mor, he texts back, it’s nothing. A second later, he adds, but she's not a bitch.

He wants to say more, but texting Mor an essay on why she’s wrong for judging Nesta without knowing her would make him look crazy, among other things. He doesn’t know why he has to clarify that Nesta isn’t a bitch in the first place.

Either way, Cassian’s theory was proven correct.

He decides not to mention Nesta to his friends anymore.

***

Nesta lays in bed, thinking about the absolute day she’s had.

If getting drunk with Emerie Nikolis and Eris Vanserra at two in the afternoon wasn’t enough, stumbling back home to find Cassian like that finished her off for good. Her cheek has been tingling for hours.

She remembers how this housing agreement between them first started: I need you to know you can enforce whatever rules and boundaries you want while you’re here.

Nesta huffs a laugh. Boundaries are for strangers. Cassian seems content to poke and tug at Nesta’s boundaries whenever he wants, and Nesta… is okay with this. A mere month ago, this would have been her worst nightmare— living with a man who pushes her on every decision, who never does what she wants but somehow always knows what she needs.

But now they're friends, and Nesta is slowly learning that the rules are different with friends. Not everything has to be spelled out, because Cassian will understand what she's trying to say anyway. Not everything that is unknown has to be scary, because Cassian is never scary.

He’s allowed to read her books because he won’t make fun of them. He's allowed to know about her personal health matters because he won’t tell anybody else. And apparently, he’s allowed to give her a job so she doesn’t go broke trying to afford endo treatment.

These are the new rules.

She’s ridiculously glad that she told Lorene she won’t be coming back to the apartment for a few weeks. She doesn't know what she'll do after then, but for now she is okay.

***

a/n: hello i love writing cassian pov and learning more about him so much :) also thinking about having cassian call nesta 'baby' when they get together more often than 'sweetheart' just bc i think it would be a good look on him. pls share ur opinion.

tagging: @ladywitchling @sjm-things @thewayshedreamed @drielecarla @sensitiveillyrian @superspiritfestival @aliveahaahahafuck @cupcakey00 @sayosdreams @rainbowcheetah512 @claralady @thebluemartini @nessiantho @missing-merlin @duskandstarlight @lucy617 @sleeping-and-books @everything-that-i-love @cassianscool @awesomelena555 @julemmaes @wickedqueenoffantasy @poisonous-bloom @observationanxioustheorist @gisellefigue08 @courtofjurdan @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @wolfiixxx @cass-nes @seashade @royaltykxx @illyrianundercover @queenestarcheron @monstrousloves-explodinggalaxies

#a favor #ncssianwrites #nessian #nesta archeron #cassian #nessian fic #nessian au

[tinyboxxtink]

"Doppelganger" *Part 18*

Alright I went back and forth with this one, I even had a whole other idea where to take this, but I ended up here. And you know to be honest I think it ended up working out because it really does explain a LOT. I just did it inadvertently.

Also I hate to ask this but if you enjoy my stuff can you PLEASE reblog it and not just like it? It really helps me out more because more people see it, liking it doesn't really do anything.

I love you all!!!

Part 17

Part 19

Tag List

@madamsnape921

@lolliepopsicle

@chasingeverybreakingwave

@milkshqke

@wanniiieeee

@word-scribbless

@gibbs274

@sassyada

@aprildecker-blog

@bookishfanfic

@stars-in-the-skies-world

@stars-trash-18

@omgsuperstarg

@objection-argumentative

[OMG I LOVE HIS FACE SO MUCH. I don't wanna give any spoilers but watch it when you read the line that starts: "I don't know what else to do--" . Wait, can you tell it's a face he's making like, he's about to cry because he doesn't know what you expect him to do because that's the context of the gif. It's when Alex is like I didn't do shit blah blah blah and he's like "It's all gonna come out Alex, I don't know how else to help you if you're just gonna be this way! Kinda like Cest La Vie, ya know? Did I overexplain it?]

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

The next few days consisted of a lot of cuddling and binging, you two in your own little bubble. Rafael didn’t have any big cases at the moment, so he was able to do most of his paperwork and things from home. After a long discussion, you decided that you were going to take the rest of the semester off; at least until things cooled down, people forgot about the whole ‘Nevada’ debacle, and wouldn’t hound you anymore. You were enjoying your bubble when Rafael just had to pop it.

You were in the middle of binging some courtroom drama [DUN DUN] when he turned to you and said:

“...Baby, remember when you said you’d talk to someone…?”

There it was. The other shoe dropped. The music had come, you had to face it.

“I um, yeah…” You looked down and played with the string on Rafael’s HARVARD hoodie you were currently wearing.

“Well I found numbers of some pretty good psychiatrists that deal with PTSD and--”

“Psychiatrists?!” You suddenly sat upright. “Y-You want me to go to a shrink?”

“Well, I thought that’s what--”

“I thought you just wanted me to talk to one of your-- squad, people,” You were starting to panic. You didn’t want some stranger knowing your business; how would you even begin to explain the situation?!

“I mean, if that’s what you want--”

“That’s what I want,” You cut him off. “As long as it’s not Olivia,”

“Okay, whatever you need baby,” He kissed the top of your head.

-----

That next week you had agreed to sit down and talk with Sonny Carisi. Rafael was stunned when you asked to talk to a guy, but you said it made you feel more comfortable for whatever reason. He was seriously hesitant for some reason, but then agreed. The conversation went like this:

“What are you worried I'll latch on to him, fall in love with him like people do with their mentors?” You teased.

“Ha ha….” He rubbed the back of his neck nervously. He didn’t find it amusing at all.

“....Baby I was just kidding,” You put a hand to his chest. “That takes months-- or y’know, a glance at a photo in a temp office,” You giggled, thinking about how you met and fell in love.

“Yeah no I know,” He gave you a very weird smile. “Just um, y’know don’t get into too much detail about us, okay? Just stick to the Nevada thing,”

“...Um, okay…?” You looked at him curiously.

“I just don’t want my co-workers knowing our personal stuff, carino,” He assured you. Well that made sense.

----

So here you were, sitting in an interrogation room with Sonny Carisi. He looked about as uncomfortable as you felt. Though you couldn’t understand why he would be worried, you were the one ‘on trial’ here.

“So um, Miss Y/L/N,” He cleared his throat.

“Y/F/N is fine, Mr. Carisi,”

“Sonny, please,” He nodded. “So, Y/N-- I uh, so...did you wanna talk about anything?”

“....I mean, you’re the SVU detective here Sonny. Don’t you have a list of questions you have to ask me?”

“I mean, we already know most of it. You were kidnapped by a guy who looked like Barba, you had sex with him a lot--”

“Excuse me?” You cut him off. “Is that what your little paper says? ‘I had sex with him a lot’? I was assaulted, multiple times,”

“Right,” He nodded nervously. “Yeah no, of course I’m sorry that’s what I meant,”

“...Did Olivia write this?” You narrowed your eyes.

“Excuse me?”

“Did Olivia write this report?” You repeated.

“Why would you ask that?” He asked you nervously.

“Because it doesn’t exactly sound like I’m the victim in that report,” You crossed your arms. “It sounds like someone who has a personal bias towards my fiancé, who thinks that this was my fault. That I should’ve known the difference between him and some criminal. Maybe someone who thinks they would’ve known better if they were in the situation. Maybe someone who thinks he should be with someone who knows them like they do,”

“....That’s a lot of assumption on your part, Y/N,” Sonny turned the paper upwards while he dismissed your conspiracy theory.

“...Is it?” You narrowed your eyes. “Let me see it,”

“Y’know these things are private information for the NYPD Y/N, and--” Before he could finish, you swiped the paper from him. You noticed his face go white, he stopped talking. Jesus, did everyone want to protect precious Olivia? You scanned the paper, your eyes went wide when you saw who filled it out.

“....You filled this out,” You said softly, looking at him. He was looking at the floor. “Y-You, filled this out Mr. Carisi,”

“Sonny--” He said in a shaky voice.

“Oh ok, SONNY,” You tossed the paper at him. “You--You don’t even know me. Do you? Have we met before? Did I offend you in some past life?”

“No, no of course not--”

“.....Or have I offended you by dating your mentor--oh my god, your mentor,” You suddenly remembered the conversation you had with Rafael a few days before.

“I...I have to go,” You suddenly stood up and walked out of the room briskly, Sonny trailed behind you. Rafael had been waiting in the squad room to take you home after you were done, you stomped across the room to him.

“Hey, baby done so soon--? What’s wrong?” He looked at you with concern.

“....Were you screwing Carisi?” you growled.

“Excuse me?” He asked in a panicked tone.

“WERE YOU FUCKING YOUR MENTEE BEFORE ME,” You practically screamed, causing the whole precinct to stop and stare. Rafael looked around the room horrified, then glanced at Sonny who had an apologetic look on his face. “He--”

“Oh no no no, don’t blame this on him,” You stood in front of his eyeline to Sonny. “...Is that what you do, Rafael? Y-You seduce your interns and sleep with them? W-Was I just a tick on the wall?”

“NO,” He shook his head and took your hand. “Can we-- Can we do this outside, please?”

“Why? Because you don’t want everyone to know ‘our’ personal life, or ‘yours’?” You huffed as you skulked out of the building.

“Barba I’m sorry, she just--” Sonny tried to explain.

“We are not done with this, Carisi,” Rafael growled at him before he ran after you.

-----

He caught you outside the precinct, breathing heavily trying not to have a panic attack.

“What is wrong with you?” Rafael asked you, making you stop altogether.

“A-Are you serious?” You half laughed in disbelief. “You send me into the lion’s den without any warning, and then I just get to find out that I’m just one of the many--”

“Oh knock it off, Y/N,” He stopped you. “You know that’s not true,”

“It’s not? Then what the fuck was that?”

“Okay,” He sighed. “Okay fine maybe I should have-- insist on you talking to someone else,”

“....You think THAT’S the problem here?”

“Look Y/N. Carisi and I...we... we got drunk a few times, and we-- y’know,” He shrugged uncomfortably.

“Oh God…” You wouldn’t throw up on the sidewalk, you told yourself.

“And he caught feelings from it! I can’t control how he feels!” He gestured towards the building.

“...So does that mean that you ‘y’know’ with Olivia a few times, and SHE ‘caught feelings’ from it? Because I distinctly remember you telling me that nothing ever happened between you two,”

“....Under your spell,” He mumbled.

“Excuse me?” You almost fell over.

“I--” He looked around nervously. “I said that, under your spell. You think that when I was ‘in love’ with you I was going to tell you that I fucked the woman you were threatened by?”

“...Did....did you just use quotes? Did you just air quote you being in love with me?”

“Well I wasn’t exactly under my own free will now was I?” He snapped.

“I can’t...I can’t believe you’re using that against me,” You looked to the side with a dry laugh, refusing to cry.

“Look I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to--” He tried to go for your hand, but you weren’t having it. “Look my point was, you and I-- we’re not the same. Our relationship isn’t the same as them--”

“No, it’s not. Because you slept with them WILLINGLY, right? And I just tricked you into it? Like Nevada did with me? Because we’re the same?”

“Alright now you’re just--” He rolled his eyes.

“What? What am I JUST--?” You crossed your arms, upset he wasn’t taking this seriously.

“I thought we were doing all of this to get past this, Y/N,” He sighed in frustration.

“So did I!” You stomped your foot, tears choking your throat. “But--But, what if we can’t? This whole time, this WHOLE time. You--”

“Y/N baby stop--” He tried putting his hand on your shoulder but you backed away.

“You KNEW how bad I felt about doing that to you! You told me that, that I just ‘brought out your real feelings’, but….but that’s not true, is it?” You paced while talking and then paused when you asked the question.

“Yes it is! I mean, mostly….” He added the last part with a mumble.

“Mostly?” Your blood ran cold.

“I mean I thought you were attractive, but I didn’t know anything about you. And--And you didn’t know anything about me, Y/N. You weren’t in love with me either, you had a crush on me. But that day we spent together, it really did make me fall in love with you! After I remembered how I felt, I wanted to keep feeling that way all the time! I wanted to be with you, I knew we were meant to be together after that--”

“Oh my god--” You laughed again, putting your hands over your head. “This is insane. This is...this is insane,”

“Baby look when you think about it the whole thing is insane. But we’re here--”

“No, you’re right Rafael,” You put your hands in between you, preventing him from coming closer. “We are insane. But I thought it was the ‘only in the movies kind of love’ insane. But apparently, it’s just an insane mental institution insane,” You started to walk away but he ran in front of you.

“No. Uh Uh. You’re not walking away from this. Not again, not ever again,”

“What are you gonna hold me hostage now? Like I did with your feelings?” You rolled your eyes, but then it hit you. That was your entire problem. That’s what this all boiled down to. This is what it’s ALWAYS been about.

“...That’s it,” You whispered.

“...What is?” He looked at you curiously.

“...We started this on a lie, I started us on a lie,”

“Wha--- no, no you--” He shook his head.

“I did!” You finally let tears fall. “You just said it yourself, I made you feel those things. You--- you didn’t feel anything more for me than Olivia or Carisi! You just wanted to sleep with me! But I--I made you have romantic feelings for me. And-- And ever since that day, that magical perfect day when I accepted that it wasn’t real, I was right!”

“No, no--” He tried to protest.

“YES, Rafael! And-- and ever since then, ever since you, we-- I’ve always had it in the back of my mind that you’re STILL under that influence! That-- that one day you’re going to realize ‘oh hey you know what I actually don’t give a shit about you, my bad!’,” You began pacing, thinking out loud as it all came to the surface.

“And--And, I just still have it in my mind that I’m not good enough for you, I’ll NEVER be good enough for you! And-- these things just keep happening, that are telling me I’M RIGHT. I couldn’t tell you apart from Nevada, I did things with him knowing it hurt you, I did DRUGS even though on some level I knew it would hurt you, and what it all boils down to is I’ve kept you hostage in this relationship!”

“NO, you have not,” Rafael took you by the shoulders. “I get why you feel like this, Y/N baby I really do. And-- And I’m sorry I wasn’t upfront about Sonny and Olivia but I knew you are already so insecure about our relationship--”

“FOR GOOD REASON!!!”

“NO! NOT for good reason!” He tried not to yell as not to cause a scene but he needed you to hear him.

“Look maybe we-- we started out unconventionally. But that was MONTHS ago, baby. Have I-- have I not shown you time and time again, how much I really do love you? I--I made a fucking flash mob for you, do you know how long that took? How much self esteem did I have to suck it up to perform in front of people again? But I did it for you,” He started to cry.

“I risked my life for you so many times when Nevada had you. I could have just let him keep you. Especially after--” He stopped, quickly noting that bringing that up again was only going to take three steps back.

“I--I dropped everything to stay home and protect you! Do those things not make you feel loved? Do you think that all of that is...is fabricated?” He was the one crying and laughing in disbelief now.

“I don’t--- I don’t know what else to do to prove to you that I love you of my own free will. TELL ME what I can do to prove that to you, and I’ll do it! What is going to prove to you that I won’t leave you, that I won’t suddenly wake up one day and realize I was under some spell all along? Tell me!” He begged you, tears rolling down his cheeks.

“....Marry me,” You finally answered softly.

“....What?” He looked at you quizzically. “Baby I already proposed--”

“Yeah but that’s not definite, Rafael,” You held up your bare hand. “Look! It’s not even real right now!”

“A piece of jewelry doesn’t--”

“It does to me!” You took his hands. “Look, I’m--I’m sorry I am the way that I am, but I can’t change it. I--I need physical proof. I know that you’ve done all of this heroic and crazy stuff for me, but-- but my stupid brain won’t accept that! I need something, something physical. Actual proof that I can look at, to know I’m safe. To know you’re going to stay with me,”

“....Okay,” He nodded, looking down at your hand while rubbing your ring finger.

“Okay?” You asked warily. “You’re just going to accept that?”

“....I’ve put up with all of your other craziness up to this point, have I not?” He smirked.

“Hey that’s not--” You started to argue but he gave you a look. “Alright fine, yes you have,”

“Okay,” He looked up at you with a smile. “I’ll marry you. I’ll marry you right now, we can go into the chapel in the back and--” He started leading you back to the station.

“Wha, no no no,” You cried and laughed, wiping the tears from your face. “Okay I didn’t mean this second. Just...soon,”

“Soon?” He looked at you curiously.

“Really soon?” You bit your lip.

“Like, tomorrow soon?”

“Like….I don’t know, maybe a month? Two? I kind of want a reasonably cute wedding,”

“Not a huge expensive one….”

“Rafael how many people do I know that would come to my wedding? You and Chloe. That’s it. And Chloe will be standing next to me,”

“You have Maria,”

“Maria’s your...mom?”

“Second mom,” He chuckled. “But she could sit on your side. With her husband. And if you go inside and make nice with the rest of the squad, they can sit on your side,”

“...Make nice with the people I just had a meltdown in front of?” You raised an eyebrow.

“...They’ve seen worse, trust me,” He teased.

“...Okay but after that, can we--?” You raised your hand, and he read your mind.

“I’ll call Tiffany's and tell them we’ll be stopping by,” He shook his head with another laugh.

“...Really? Fancy,” You grinned.

“You’re easy to please,” He shook his head with a laugh as you walked back into the station hand in hand.

#rafael barba imagine #rafael barba #rafael barba x you #rafael barba angst #rafael barba fluff #rafael barba fanfiction #rafael barba x reader #law and order svu #raul esparza #law and order svu fanfiction

[chelseaheskett]

12:14PM, TUESDAY. AUGUST 11TH, 2020.

She’d been in this situation so many times. Too many times. 

The drive down to Charlotte after her second round of artificial insemination, sitting in the clinic waiting room with her Mom by her side. Holding her hand and praying. Chelsea tried not to get her hopes up, tried to bury the excitement. The first round had been unsuccessful. So much of her money and savings spent, just for it to fail. Her doctor greeted them with a huge smile on her face. Ushered them inside her office. 

A pee-on-a-stick pregnancy test from a grocery store she’d never been to before. New town, new city. All the way on the other side of the country. No Mom to hold her hand this time. Chelsea shyly smiled at the checkout person when they scanned it through. Snuck it off to the nearest restroom. Washed it off and boxed it up, after the result came through. 

Her doctor’s office after lots of dizzy spells. Nausea. Rocking three kids, three toddlers, in a stroller back and forth with her foot while she waited for a diagnosis. A reason for all her symptoms and sickness. 

This time it was a self-service checkout. The same grocery store she always went to. She avoided the aisle with the eggs. Bagged up the test on her own and drove home. Took it into the bathroom off the entryway, so she didn’t have to run into her Mom looking after the kids. It was just a precaution. She just had to rule it out. It was impossible for the test to be positive, anyway... until it wasn’t. 'Til it wasn’t impossible and it was positive. “I gotta duck out again, I’ll be back!” Chelsea called out, already halfway out the front door. She drove back to the store, foot a little heavy on the gas. Parked the car the way Elliot usually would: poorly, and practically illegal. Shoved two different brands of take-home pregnancy tests into a bag. Just to be sure. Just to rule it out. False positives happened. 

Three false positives in a row didn’t look too good. Chelsea loved probability. Tutored Jenny in Math all the time. She was a numbers person, okay? She typed them into her phone, over and over, searching for a doctor’s office with any available appointments. Drove half an hour into the city to see somebody, anybody. The guy didn’t ask her any questions. No medical or family history, nothing. Chelsea didn’t choose to tell him anything, either. Didn’t say I have four biological children under the age of four, a teenage step-daughter, and a husband who got a vasectomy. Told him about the three at-home pregnancy tests, though. He got her to pee in a cup. It was any wonder Chelsea had anything left, after all of her previous attempts. She asked for a blood test, too. Didn’t mind waiting a few days for the results, she just needed to be sure. A nurse came to draw her blood and then handed her off to somebody else. Another doctor in the clinic for a sonogram. 

The urine test was positive. Chelsea refused to believe it. Got changed into a gown for the ultrasound and hitched her legs up in the stirrups. The doctor got going with the wand, making small talk. Chelsea nodded; replied like a robot. Clenched the fabric of the gown around her stomach to keep her hands from trembling. Shifted around, uncomfortable, from the pressure of the wand moving around inside of her. She refused to look at the screen until the doctor pointed it out to her, lining over the image with his fingertip. 

“Here’s the yolk sac.” He said, before moving his finger out. “And the gestational sac…” 

Chelsea nodded again. Quick, frantic. Grit her teeth to keep from crying. 

“And this tiny white speck? That’s the embryo.” Chelsea had to squint to see it. But it was there. It was there. “I’d say you’re around five, maybe five-and-a-half weeks pregnant.”

There must’ve been something in the water. They had a barbecue on the weekend with the twins. Macy and Amy and their families. Macy balancing Ollie, her three-year-old son, on her hip while Caleb hugged her from behind. They announced they were pregnant. Eight weeks along. Their second pregnancy, with three years in between. Four, by the time the new baby arrived. That was acceptable, that was… that was normal. Four years between, like a regular person would. Unlike Chelsea, who had practically been pregnant every year over the last four. Who had four babies under the age of four. 

Everything was a number. Jack had just turned three about a fortnight ago. Jenny had turned thirteen-years-old weeks before that. A teenager. It was the twins’ second birthday in two days. They were meant to have a party on the weekend. Luca was only six months old. Vasectomies were 99.9% effective for preventing pregnancy. That was one pregnancy for every thousand vasectomies. And Chelsea was pregnant again. Chelsea was about to be pregnant for the fourth time, with her fifth biological child. Five under five. Luca had only just gotten his first tooth. Only just started eating solids, when he agreed to it. Six months. Six children. Six fucking children. One in one thousand. Pregnant, again.

Chelsea felt like a robot malfunctioning. Broken and spitting out numbers. It got like this, this bad, sometimes. Fixating on numbers and figures, as if her brain couldn’t process things any other way at this capacity. This overwhelmed. When she was feeling something that couldn’t even be named or described. She took the sonogram printout and walked out of the clinic. Without paying, without even realising. Just walked to her car and stopped to sit on the curb. She eased her head between her knees, forcing herself to breathe. Birthing classes gave her plenty of practice, right? In, out. Nice and easy, the way Elliot would always say. Elliot. How was she gonna tell Elliot? Again?

The courthouse wasn’t far from the doctor’s office. Chelsea didn’t even think about it: when she got calm enough to get back in her car and drive, she did. She’d already driven into the city for the appointment, anyway. Somehow remembered to fill the meter for street parking in front of the building. She found the right courtroom and slipped into a pew at the back. Nobody noticed her entrance. Didn’t notice that she was severely underdressed in an oversized tunic and jeans. Flat sandals. Elliot was sitting up the front of the room at his bar table, head bowed and scribbling something on a notepad. Chelsea couldn’t see his face from this angle, but she’d know that hair anywhere. The shape of his body, hunched over in his seat, suit jacket pressing tight against his back. She could see the arms of his glasses tucked behind his ears, too. Chelsea got lost in the sight of him. Pretended to herself that she was just here to watch, just to see him in action, and not for any other completely life-altering reason. Nope. For now, she wasn’t going to think about that. 

The other lawyer, the prosecution, was pacing around before the guy on the witness stand. Gently questioned him. Chelsea didn’t know much about the case, but it only took a little while to figure out what was going on. The man on the stand was the victim. Yeah. “Victim.” Chelsea furrowed her eyebrows, listening to the guy talk. Rehearsed and manipulative. The lawyer gave a thank you and sat back down at the bar table across the way from Elliot’s. Hey, at least something had gone right today! It looked like she had gotten here just in time to see her baby—no, bad word!—her husband work his magic. 

This was a very serious assault case—Chelsea shouldn’t’ve been grinning ear-to-ear in the back row, but she couldn’t help it. Elliot stood and unbuttoned his suit jacket. Pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. Chelsea got antsy when he said lawyer stuff like objection or verdict at home… this was next level hot. Seeing him in his element. His cross-examination was smart. Completely clever. Turns out the “victim” was a wife beater. The accused, Elliot’s client, was the wife. And Elliot made sure everybody knew it. Constantly looked over at the jury, giving Chelsea a shot at his side profile. There was someone in the gallery taking photos. Yeah, how did Chelsea get a copy of that? Hey, maybe she could be a court photographer. That’d be cool. 

Elliot was getting the victim, the husband, pretty worked up on the stand. Hitting him where it hurt. Asking the right questions. From the evidence Elliot was providing, the guy had a temper. A really short fuse. And Elliot knew which buttons to push. Chelsea was getting worked up, too. Flushed cheeks, a bead of sweat collecting on her forehead. This should not have been arousing, but it was, Goddammit! Hormones notwithstanding. Elliot was confident and cunning and she was so proud of him. Practically had the guy on the stand exactly where he wanted him until the prosecution, rattled, called for a recess. The judge dropped his gavel and said something about breaking for lunch. Chelsea felt like she was in an episode of SVU. She’d have to bring Jenny to one of these, one day. She’d love that. It was good. It was a good distraction. But as the gallery started to disperse, and the judge and jury filed out of the courtroom, Chelsea’s stomach twisted into knots. Time to face the music, huh?

Elliot was shuffling paper into his briefcase. His client, the wife, left the room with who Chelsea could only assume were her parents. Some support system or another. Chelsea gave the woman a small, soft smile when they crossed paths. Elliot hadn’t caught sight of her yet. She stood a few steps behind him, fingers wrapping around the thin strap of her bag, hanging over her shoulder. Chelsea cleared her throat. Rolled back on her heels. “Y’know, it should be a crime...” Talked before she even thought about touching him. Knew he would recognise her voice and wouldn’t get jumpy. “You up there being so sexy. Just out there on display for the whole world to witness.” She teased, voice slightly high pitched. Had to push through all this anxious, nervous energy. The pit in her stomach.

“Hi, handsome.” Chelsea said, breaking the distance between them by the time he turned around to face her. She didn’t want him to seem unprofessional or anything, so she caught his wrist and stroked his arm instead of giving him a hug or a kiss in greeting. Didn’t call him baby, because she was actively avoiding that word for the moment. Handsome wasn’t used nearly as much as he deserved, anyway. And standing there in his suit, hair falling over the frame of his glasses, it was fitting. Appropriate. Despite her gut feeling, Chelsea smiled up at him. Let her shoulders drop and relax with a deep, drawn out exhale. “Nothing bad’s happened, I promise.” Well. It depends how he saw it, really. Chelsea didn’t want to put that out into the universe, though—no matter what ended up happening with this pregnancy. She knew him, though. Knew he’d panic and wonder why she was here, at the courthouse in the middle of his work day, if something wasn’t wrong. 

Before he could question it, Chelsea got to talking again. Ran her mouth some more. “You’re doing really great, honey. He was about to crack, I could see it!” The minimal touching thing was hard. Chelsea smoothed out the lapels on his jacket. Fidgeted with his tie. It was really for her own benefit, not for his or his appearance. “You’ve totally got this in the bag.” Her hands slid up to his shoulders, giving them a reassuring squeeze. “God, you’re so talented. You’re so good at this, Elliot.” She’d known it this whole time, of course, but now she had actual evidence. And he couldn’t argue back if she was using legal jargon! 

She wished it could stay like this. Light, unserious. Chelsea tried to keep it going for as long as possible. Tried to keep the shake out of her skin, and the caving emptiness out of the pit of her stomach. Chelsea flit her gaze away from his face. Briefly, momentarily. But he knew her. He knew her better than anybody in the entire world. No matter how much she wanted to right now, she couldn’t hide from him. She couldn’t hide from this. “I don’t wanna interrupt your lunch time, hon, but... is there someplace we can go to talk? Somewhere quiet?”

#elliot #elliot 28 #interaction

[youreacowgirllikeme]

Case Closed

note: Chris talked law on Prime Time again last night, so I felt inspired to write a second part of my Lawyer!Chris fic (you can read the first part HERE) sorry for eventual typos

enjoy :)

words: 2900

warnings: swearing, smut (dirty talk, oral, fingering, unprotected sex (wrap it irl, please))

“Your honor, the jury finds the defendant guilty of all charges.”

Oh. OH.

This was absolutely glorious. You couldn’t dance in court, of course, but on the inside, you were definitely having a victory parade.

A triumphant grin split your face as your gaze wandered across the courtroom over to the defense desk.

Chris Cuomo, the defense lawyer, looked absolutely crestfallen. His mouth was hanging slightly open, and he couldn’t even utter a word. Serves him right, smug bastard, you thought.

You had made an excellent case, a new witness and some very compromising documents were able to convince the jury of the defendants guilt despite all of Cuomo’s efforts to keep his incredibly whealty client out of jail.

The judge announced the sentence, and now Chris just slammed his fist on the table. This was getting better and better, but you told yourself to keep your smugness at bay, no need to stoop as low as your opponent and gloat.But there was something else you definitely needed to do, something you couldn’t let Christopher Charles Cuomo get away with.

After the defendant was taken away and you had packed up all your papers, you slowly made your way over to his desk.

“So, I was wondering if you are going to keep that horrendous tie on for dinner tonight? Because I plan on wearing a dress and I would hate for us to clash color-wise, you know.” You said, barely able to remain serious.

The look he gave you was so murderous, it sent a shiver down your spine. You weren’t sure if it was out of fear or arousal. You were still a bit sore from your encounter in the parking lot yesterday, and you really hoped on repeating it. Riling him up was just foreplay to you.

“If you’re really suggesting that I will take you out for dinner after that dirty game you played today, you are even crazier than in originally thought.” he hissed. The vein on his temple was back, pulsating as if it was threatening you.

“Dirty game?” you almost shouted, then pulled yourself together so you wouldn’t draw the attention of the people still lingering in the courtroom.

“Your client was guilty as hell, even you with your twisted sense of morality should see that. And you lecturing me about playing games, pot calling the kettle black.” You whispered furiously, unable to keep your unfazed façade on any longer.

“About dinner, you invited me yesterday, so you’re either not a man of your word or a coward. Maybe even both.”

You hit home with that, you could see that on the way Cuomo’s fists clenched around the papers he was holding, scrunching them up. Men were so predictable, you thought, call them a coward and they will do every stupid thing in the book to prove you wrong.

But you wanted dinner and, most of all, dessert, so playing into his insecurities was fair game this once.

“There’s a new Italian place on 5th avenue, across from the Public Library. I know the owner, I’ll get us a table. Be there at eight.” He muttered and was gone in a hurry.

Of course he knew the owner.

“I look forward to it.” you called after him, fake cheeriness in your voice.

+++

As agreed, you stood in front of the restaurant at eight. You wore your favorite dress, it was bright red and showed just the right amount of both legs and cleavage. You thought that you looked stunning, and you knew Cuomo would appreciate the look as well.

The roar of an engine pulled you out of your thoughts, and you spun around to where a familiar black SUV was pulling up. You rolled your eyes, if you didn’t know it better you’d think Cuomo was compensating with that car.

It stopped and he emerged on the driver’s side. And Lord help you, he looked fantastic. He wore a tight-fitting black suit and a white dress shirt with the top two buttons undone, showing a peak of tanned skin beneath. You wanted to climb him like a tree in the middle of 5th avenue. The confident, almost arrogant way in which he carried himself was infuriating and incredibly hot at the same time. Why was he so attractive while being such an asshole?

Your thoughts about his appearance were clearly written all over your face, because when he addressed you, he sounded even more smug than usual.

“Hi, Y/L/N, enjoying the view? I have to admit, you really clean up nice, I’m impressed.”

“Shut it, Cuomo.” You said, unable to suppress a smile. “You don’t look too horrible yourself.”

“Come on, I look great and we both know it.” he chuckled. And of course, he was right, but his ego was already big enough, no need to feed it any more.

“You look alright, I guess, but don’t to get ahead of yourself.” You said, “And now you better take me inside so I can have the amount of wine I need to make your company tolerable.”

+++

The food was absolutely delicious, and the wine the waiter recommended was so good that the two of you drank a whole bottle. It was Friday anyway, so no need to hold back.

What was really shocking too you was how good the conversation was. After a bit of initial bickering and arguing about which country produced the best red wine, you slowly started getting more comfortable with each other. The atmosphere was eased by the wine and you discovered that Chris wasn’t a completely horrible person.

Yes, he was a smart arse and cocky, and so fucking full of himself, but he was also incredibly clever, had surprisingly progressive views and on top of all he loved dogs!

When he told you that his favorite food were his mother’s spaghetti marinara, you could not suppress a little “aaw”. He looked at you funnily, but you just gave him a smile.

Your were slightly confused. This evening was supposed to be about you eating some fancy food for free and getting on Cuomo’s nerves (and maybe getting laid later).

But now, you were actually enjoying his company, and he didn’t seem hostile towards you, either. He hadn’t even brought up the trial, or how you allegedly played him dirty. Instead, he was actually listening to what you had to say and engaged into meaningful conversation.

You really were surprised, and when he was signing the bill later, you took your time to appreciate his appearance again while taking your newfound knowledge about him into consideration. Maybe he wasn’t the devil in person. Maybe, there was an actual decent human being under that expensive suit.

The two of you decided to go for a little after-dinner walk in the nearby Bryant Park, your favorite in NYC, and, as is turned out, Chris’ as well. Conversation shifted to growing up in New York and how your experiences differed from each other. But, as you found out, Chris actually grew up in a Queens neighborhood not too far from your own home, a fact that surprised you immensely.

“I could’ve sworn you were born on the Upper East Side.” You admitted “You certainly look and act the part.”

“I’m not gonna lie, prep school and Ivy and Law school certainly played a role in this. And of course, the firm I’m working for is high end. You’re expected to conduct yourself in a certain way. It’s a shark tank, you eat, or you get eaten. But I don’t have to tell you that.” His voice was quiet, almost wistful. He sounded like a totally different person.

“If that’s Queens Chris I met tonight, then I like him a lot better than this Cuomo guy from court.” You said, stopping and looking up to meet his blue eyes.

“You’re not the only one, I like him better as well.” He replied, meeting your gaze and reaching out to take your hand. His fingers were warm and rough as they intertwined with yours, holding his hand felt shockingly natural.

There were definitely sparks flying now, you could not deny it. You were drawn to this guy, and not only because of his good looks, but really attracted to the person behind the persona, you desperately wanted to know more about him.

“Tell me.” You whispered. “How did this happen? We were about to kill each other this afternoon and now were standing here, holding hands?”

“You tell me.” He murmured, and then he leaned down to kiss you. It was nothing like you expected, he was tender, gently cupping your jaw with his large hand, his thumb stroking over your cheek. His lips were soft and pliant against yours, a contrast to how hard and broad his body felt when you leaned against him to deepen the kiss.

The hand that was previously holding yours slipped around your waist and pulled you closer. You fisted your hands into the lapel of his suit jacket and what began as an innocent kiss grew increasingly steamy.

You groaned as he nipped at your bottom lip and slid his tongue inside your mouth and reached up to grab the short hair at the nape of his neck. He hissed into your mouth, his grip on your hips tightening.

You felt heat starting to pool between your legs and telling from the bulge that was beginning to press against your abdomen, Chris was sharing your sentiments.

“How fast is that ridiculous car of yours?” you panted, a bit breathless from the kiss.

“Very fast.” He replied, a grin on his slightly flustered face.

“How about we take this to your place before we get in trouble for public indecency?”

“You weren’t that concerned about it yesterday.” He chuckled “But I don’t care for the headlines either, so let’s go.”

+++

The door to Chris penthouse (you were right, of course he had a penthouse) slammed shut, and a second later, you were pressed against it by two strong arms. Chris effortlessly pinned your body against the wood with one hand while the other one fumbled with the side zipper of your dress.

The garment dropped to the floor, leaving you with only a matching black set of underwear on. Chris eyes wandered over your body and he swore under his breath before attacking your bare neck with his mouth, kissing and sucking on the skin, probably leaving another bruise.

“You’re really marking me like a fucking caveman, Cuomo.” You gasped, the effect of his lips on your skin evident, you were already slick with need.

“Come on, Y/N, you know you enjoy it.” he whispered, and you only groaned as an answer as he softly bit the junction of your neck and shoulder. You could hear his dark chuckle before his hand started to unclasp your bra, exposing your tits to the cool air of the hallway.

He sucked one of your nipples into his mouth, and you couldn’t suppress a whimper at the feeling of his hot mouth against your sensitive skin. Slowly, his large hand wandered between your legs, rubbing your pussy through your panties before pulling this last item of clothing down as well, only your black high heels remaining.

Releasing your hands, Chris slowly dropped down to his knees and grabbed one of your ankles to prob your leg over his shoulder. You let out a sharp hiss as his mouth wandered to your inner tight, leaving a trail of soft kisses before he reached your center. His fingers slowly dipped into your wet folds, spreading your arousal before he started to lightly circle your clit with his tongue. You cried out and threw your head back against the door, one of your hands fisted into his curly hair, pushing him closer between your legs.

“So bossy.” He murmured. “And so fucking wet for me.” Suddenly, he pushed two of his thick fingers into you while harshly sucking on your bud. White, hot pleasure surged through your body as you came on the spot, your knees almost giving up as you bucked against Chris’ face, coating it with your arousal.

“Fuck.” You whispered, slowly coming down from your high. Chris got up, looking very pleased with himself. You grabbed him by his dress shirt, pulling him in for a deep kiss and grinding your naked core against his very prominent erection.

“Bedroom. Now.” He groaned against your lips and kissed you again. Your hands were busy unbuttoning his shirt, tearing it from his body. It joined the rest of the clothes on the floor. You took a moment to admire his now exposed, well-muscled torso. He looked like fucking Greek god, and you wanted to run your hands and tongue over every inch of his tanned, smooth skin. You needed him, now.

“Fuck me right here, I don’t care.” You whispered, palming his erection before starting to work on his zipper.

“Filthy girl. You want me to rail you against the door.” Chris murmured, before pulling his pants down along with his underwear. His cock sprung free, hard and heavy, making your mouth water. With a swift motion, he grabbed your tights, effortlessly lifting you up against the door. The blunt display of strength just made you even wetter, your hands were grabbing his shoulders, nails digging into his skin.

“Stop talking and fuck me already, Cuomo.” You groaned, and a second later, he pushed his cock into you, the sudden stretch making you cry out in pleasure. He wasted no time, immediately starting a hard, fast pace.

“Fuck, Y/N.” Chris hissed through clenched teeth. “You are so fucking tight. Taking my cock so perfectly.”

“Shit, Chris, please keep moving, just like that.” You whimpered as he fucked you relentlessly, a stained expression on his face. He never slowed down his thrusts while he was holding you, it was like watching somebody run a marathon. Seeing him handle you like that was mesmerizing, bulging muscles glistening with sweat, his piercing blue eyes fixed on you. You were starting to feel slightly dizzy as your head hit the wooden door with each thrust, but you didn’t care.

Chris leaned forward to capture your lips in a bruising kiss, biting into your lower lip and pushing his tongue into your mouth. You let out a guttural cry as he eased his grip on your ass a bit, making you sink down onto his cock even more. The different angle created a totally new sensation, causing both of you to groan as Chris was thrusting into you even deeper now. A powerful, burning feeling was beginning to form in your lower stomach, quickly spreading through your whole body with every hard snap of his hips. Chris name was falling from your lips like a chant now, begging him to keep fucking you, to go harder, deeper.

“Who would’ve thought that you’d beg me to fuck you against my front door.” Chris said in a husky, breathless voice, never slowing down his thrusts. “Little Miss Perfect is not so perfect after all, huh?”

You couldn’t answer, your mind was fuzzy, and the only thing existing was the feeling of Chris, his large hands grabbing your ass, his hot breath on your skin, his cock filling you over and over again.

You were already hanging on the edge of your orgasm, but when he leaned down to sink his teeth into the tender flesh of your shoulder, the raw pain and the sheer possessiveness of the gesture were the push you needed to spiral down into your climax.

You came with a shout, your whole body convulsing, squirming against Chris. He moaned as he felt your pussy clenching around his cock, squeezing him until he came as well, calling out your name, his cock buried so deep inside you that you were sure you’d be limping tomorrow.

Neither of you moved for a minute, your sweaty foreheads pressed against each other as you tried to catch your breath. After a moment, Chris carefully pulled out and lowered you onto the floor before collapsing next to you with a huff. His hair was sticking to his forehead and his breath was tickling your face when he leaned in to kiss you. You were surprised by that motion, you had expected a cocky comment or a crude joke, but not this.

When he broke the kiss, you could see his trademark smirk spreading over his face as he inspected the hickey he left on your neck, tracing it with his fingers.

“I might really be into leaving marks on you.” He said, “A little reminder of the good time I gave you.”

“You really are just a caveman, aren’t you? Also, it seemed as if you enjoyed yourself as well.” you replied, your hand involuntarily reaching out to play with a lock of hair that clung to his face.

“I did, immensely so. In fact,” he said, voice going serious for a moment. “I’d like to repeat it, sometimes. Maybe even with another dinner, if you would like that.” His face was passive, but there was a softness in his eyes that you haven’t seen before.

“Are you really asking me on a date, Cuomo?” you exclaimed, the fake astonishment masking the giddy excitement you felt about the question. You wanted to go out with this idiot so bad, you could hardly believe it yourself.

“Looks like it, huh.” He murmured, and if you didn’t know it better you would’ve thought he was embarrassed.

“Hey, I’d love to go out with you, Chris.” Your voice was as sincere as you felt.

Chris gave you a brilliant smile, then winked at you.

“You know, I wouldn’t have taken no for an answer anyway.”

#chris cuomo #chris cuomo fanfiction #Chris Cuomo fic #chris cuomo x reader #imagine #cnn #cnn anchors #fanfiction #lawyer au

[beyscape]

The Intern - 2

Andy Barber x Reader

Summary: Being Andy’s intern meant you got to spend more time by his side more than anyone. This was fine, however, until feelings got in the way and made things complicated

Word Count: 2.4k (can you tell I get carried away? ‘cause I get carried away)

Warnings: Age gap, technically cheating, swearing and stuff, mention of rape

A/N Contains spoilers from episodes 1-4.

Chapter 1    Chapter 2   Chapter 3    Chapter 4   Chapter 5

 Andrew Stephen Barber was a good man by all means. A good citizen, a good father, an exceptional defense attorney, trying his best to be a good husband, Andy Barber believed he was a good man. Standing in the line to grab a cup of coffee, however, made him question his entire belief system. He had tried to ignore the hushed whispers, the pointed looks, the way whenever he entered a room it would all go very silent for a second; he had told Jake and Laurie to ignore them, that they didn’t know anything. That that’s what people do, gossip. He was now really understanding how hard it was to simply ignore when people were so blatant with their gossiping. With their cold stares.

 He never had friends, not proper ones where he could grab a beer with after work or talk to them about whatever was going on in his mind. He thought he did, but these past couple of weeks proved how much of his supposed friends were mere acquaintances. It never bothered him anyways, he never felt the particular need for that sort of closeness in his life. He was used to being alone, that’s how he had grown up, not needing anyone and learning how to survive on his own. He had his son and his wife, though latter feeling as far away as any stranger would at that point. They simply had stuff to take care of together, Andy could feel that Laurie was itching to finally get away once the dust settled. So, when the inevitable papers arrived finally, Andy would be left to his devices one more time..

But then again, there was you.

His gaze turned to you, watching your movements as you waited in the passenger seat of his car, your head laying against the window. He watched you fiddle with the ends of your hair, clearly lost in thought, and it took everything in him to not smile. Poker faces, Joanne had said to them, they had to keep their cool and not lose their composure, not with so many eyes around them. Waiting to catch a mistake, a single slip of the tongue, the smallest of gestures.

He thanked the barista quietly after grabbing the two paper cups of the coffee placed in front of him, pushing the glass doors with his feet as best as he could without sending the cups in his hands flying. No one in the relatively packed coffee shop made a move to help him. He hadn’t expected them to anyways.

His movement grabbed your attention at last as he made his way towards the black car parked towards the back of the lot, a smile spread on your lips then. It was the same one you gave him when he wasn’t looking, that shy, small smile seemingly lighting up your face with adoration. This time it wasn’t when he was unaware though, and even that thought was a whole another thing to make you happy even amidst everything going on. This time Andy couldn’t help it as a smile matching yours very closely appeared on his face as well upon seeing the look you gave him.

Many things in Andy Barber’s life was royally fucked up and it had been for some time now, but a tiny voice in his head quipped up to remind him that not everything was bad, not the young woman smiling up at him. Andy felt a surge of gratefulness fill his chest.

That night at the park he had acted on his impulses, he tried to chalk it up to him being tired, confused, what with everything going on. You were a friendly face he had stumbled upon on a night filled with desperation. His excuses didn’t last however and when he woke up the next morning, Andy knew he had to stop lying to himself. He tried to deny the fact that he had been wanting to kiss you for some time now, to hold you close but he had kept it all locked away in the deepest corner of his heart in the name of being professional. That, and he wanted to protect you. He knew any move on his part could very possibly lead to a mess of problems with his family and even more so with your work. Andy was well aware of how much you loved your job and the career plans you had told him that one night, and he couldn’t dismiss all of that just because he couldn’t keep his feelings under control.

That night at the park however, was the night where he decided he was done with keeping his feelings under control. He could do it in a courtroom in front of a judge, he could do it with the people of his once loved town scrutinizing his every move, he could do it under the cold stare of his wife, but not you. Not anymore.

So, under the dim light of the street lamp above and the shadows covering everywhere the light didn’t touch that one late night, he had kissed you. And even more surprisingly, didn’t regret it one bit. Not the way he thought he would have. If he had known before how easy it was to kiss you time after time in that cold night, Andy was sure he would have done it way earlier.

“Hi.” You said as you carefully grabbed your cup out of his hands, your eyes meeting his while your fingertips slightly grazed each other for a split second. You wished to reach over the seat, to get closer, you had waited enough for this moment, and he was so close, looking at you with that same deep softness in his eyes- you let out a shaky breath.

You had met the next day after the park, knowing damn well there was a lot to discuss. After kissing you, resting his forehead against yours and holding you close for a moment that felt too short, Andy had told you to go home and get some rest. He had insisted on dropping you off at the house you lived with your friend, the ten-minute car drive filled with silence save for the quiet tunes of the radio. He had placed the gentlest of kisses on your lips before giving you a tired smile, and only driving off once he saw you safely go in. It was another restless night with no way of sleep, but for the first time in a while, it was because of something good.

Finding an empty corner of the park was easy, even in the daylight the park didn’t host many visitors during that time of the year. You both were awkward at first, acting like high school lovers unsure of what to do or say to one another. After minutes of hushed conversation and reckless, stolen kisses you had come to a decision about keeping things extremely low-key. You and Andy were well aware that even though whatever this was between you was exciting and new, the top priority was defending Jacob and making sure he got his innocence proven. So, you had to keep things seemingly strictly professional, not allowing space for even the smallest of rumours.

It hadn’t been easy however, both desperate to see each other as soon as possible. Thus, here you were, sitting in his car drinking mediocre coffee, trying to avoid prying eyes.

“Hi yourself.” The twinkle in his eyes seemed to return in the past week, maybe not entirely but he was getting there. You talked about the case for a while, discussing other possible suspects and who could have done such a thing, when the fat droplets of rain started to fall and roll down the front window.

“Y/N, I want to tell you something.” The tone of his voice made you look at him carefully, you noted how his burrows were not furrowed with his lips cursed in a small scowl.

“You know you can tell me anything, Andy.” You replied, meaning every word. He sighed at that, clearly struggling with how to start.

“I never told this to anyone, and only told Laurie and Jacob vert recently because they had to know. My father, you see,” he trailed off, blowing on his still steaming coffee a little before taking a careful sip, doing everything he could do delay what he was about to tell you. He was scared of you hating him or being afraid of him or even worse, pitying him once he revealed his darkest of secrets, but he knew that sooner or later it would come up in the case. He thought at least he could be the first one to let you in on the skeletons he had deep in his closet. He sighed again, his gaze following the rain droplets, he couldn’t bring himself to face you in that moment.

“He wasn’t a good man. When I was about five years old, he raped and murdered a college girl, she was barely nineteen. I, I struggled with that throughout my entire childhood even though I didn’t exactly understand what was going on. And when I was old enough to get it, it didn’t make things easier. It fucked me up and still, after almost forty years, the whole thing still haunts me. Haunts my thoughts, my dreams, and now with Jake’s case it all came rushing back. Like the dam I had built to keep it repressed broke suddenly and all of it just, flooded right in.” There it was. He didn’t want to admit it, but he was afraid of the reaction you would give, Andy wasn’t sure how he would take it if you acted the way Laurie had when she found out. He instantly regretted that he even made that comparison however when he felt your warm hand wrap up his, not quite being able to cover it all. He raised his eyes to yours.

“You are not alone anymore, Andy. Thank you for sharing this with me, and please know that from now on, you’ve got me in your corner. You no longer need to pretend everything’s just great; you have me. Talk to me, and we will get through it, okay? No matter what.” One hand wrapped around his big one, you placed another hand on his thigh, all you could do in that moment to reassure him that everything was fine.

He felt it again, that rush of warmth spreading in him as he stared at you in disbelief. How had you known those were the exact words he was internally dying to hear? His gaze traced your face, your eyes burning bright with determination, your lips, those beautiful lips he craved oh so much giving him a reassuring smile. He ran a ginger hand over the hair falling down your face, barely touching, hesitant to go too far that he couldn’t hold back. Painstakingly he had to remind himself that you were still in a public parking lot, where it was so easy to get caught even with the pouring rain outside of the car as he drew his hand back, resting it on top of yours, hidden completely from the view.

“I have to go see him in prison, and I don’t know if I can do it.” He confided in you, finding it so easy to talk about whatever was bothering him, scaring him… He had never had that kind of a connection before, not even with Laurie.

“Do you want me to come with you?” You didn’t think about the technicalities. You didn’t think about why that was probably a bad idea, there could be press around, how would you get the time off, what if people saw you and many more reasons why you shouldn’t didn’t even cross your mind for all you could focus on at that moment was how small Andy had looked when he uttered those words to you. This man with broad shoulders, well-built physique who commanded whatever room he entered had looked so small in that moment. Your eyes never left his, worried that if you broke the gaze the whole moment would shatter all around you. He nodded once. Twice.

“I would like that.” He looked around, his eyes scanning the surroundings for people, but the rain that had picked up its speed was acting as a curtain drawn between you and the rest of the world.

Satisfied with what he saw, Andy turned back to face you, cupping the sides of your face between his big hands. He leaned in without any hesitation holding him back, he had been waiting for an opportunity like this and heaven knows you were in the same position as him. Your lips met in the middle and immediately sent tingles down your spine, the gentleness of the kiss conveying so many words between. The kiss was different from the heated, passion filled ones at the park that night, and different from the secretive, exciting ones of the day after. No, this kiss was sweeter than them, so sweet you thought you could get drunk off of Andy’s lips, both of his hands still cupping your cheeks.

 It was over in a moment, not satisfying the need as you hoped it would, instead it seemed to make your craving even harder to ignore.

You knew you would have to leave soon, before Neal started questioning why your coffee run had taken so long and Andy would have to go back to his house, trying to fend off the occasional reporters still waiting around his house to get one more statement from him. You both were uncomfortably aware of the pressing issues in your life, almost working together on purpose to keep you apart after a year of pining and dreaming.

“Soon”, Andy reassured you after placing kiss after kiss to your lips, to the corner of your mouth, on top of your nose. “Soon, this whole thing will blow out and we will be free to do whatever we want.”

“Together,” you kissed the palm of his hand still resting on your cheek, not wanting to let go, “we will figure it out together.”

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I had to get this in writing before sleep so guess who went to bed at 5 a.m? I wanted to wait and watch episode 5 before writing some of the more important scenes, so here have whatever this is. My inbox is open for requests, asks, feedback or just to talk about Chris! 

#andy barber #andy barber x reader #andy barber x you #andy barber x y/n #andy barber fanfiction #defending jacob #defending jacob fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #Chris Evans #chris evans x reader #chris evans imagine #andy barber imagine

[smartycvnt]

Rain Checked (Serena Southerlyn x Reader)

I know it’s from Angel, but I couldn’t find any gifs of Southerlyn, so let’s just pretend. 

Sometimes it baffled you how quickly things could change. Your relationship with Serena had gone from purely casual sex to not knowing what you would do if you didn’t have her. The craziest part of the whole situation was, you weren’t the one to start with the sappy confession of love and need. It had been Serena, the woman who had coldly turned you away before and told you that there was no room for feelings in her life. 

“Here you are,” the cab driver told you as he stopped in front of the District Attorney’s office. You handed him him the fare and a hefty tip as you got out. Serena had left you a message that she had to raincheck on your lunch date, so you decided to come to her. A couple of calls to her bosses and you had ensured that Serena would be staying in the building so that you could at least drop off something for her to eat. 

“Well if it isn’t the little traitor herself,” Jack greeted you. He opened his arms for a hug, but you hesitated. It had been raining pretty hard outside and your short little walk inside had gotten you pretty wet. “I’m on my way out anyways, a little extra won’t hurt.” 

“Hi Jack.” You hugged him tightly. Of all the lawyers that you’d worked under, Jack McCoy had always been your favorite. You were glad that someone so trustworthy was looking after Serena since your move to defense. “You take care of yourself, okay?” 

“I could tell you the same thing, especially the way that Serena’s been talking lately. Remember, at the end of the day, it’s still a job.” Jack smiled down at you before he walked out of the building. You sighed, his words weighing heavily on your conscious. If Serena was talking to him about you, that meant she was really worried. Your cases had been easier once you’d switched sides and divisions. No longer were you working in close proximity to murderers, you were “protecting” businessmen. At the end of the day, you were getting a paycheck and just waiting until your clients slipped up again with their financials so they’d call you. 

“Y/n, what are you doing here?” For a moment, you could see a frightened look in Serena’s eyes as her mind went to the worst. You had gone to speak with Branch a couple of times about a client’s involvement in a murder in the past, but when it became obvious he was the killer, you dropped him. Serena didn’t want to have to see you in the courtroom defending someone she was trying to send behind bars. 

“I brought you lunch, relax,” you told her. Serena sighed in relief and smiled up at you, grateful. You set your backpack on the table and pulled out the fast food bag. “Can I stay and wait out the rain?” 

“Of course. Do you need a different jacket?” Serena asked you. You shook your head as you pulled your jacket off. Serena didn’t wait to tear into the bag and see what you’d picked up for lunch. She had skipped breakfast leaving your apartment and you correctly assumed she did not grab something other than maybe a coffee on the way. 

“So, um, if you’ve got time tomorrow, maybe we could check this place out after your arraignment?” you asked her. Serena looked up from the ketchup packet in her hands to look at you. “It’s an apartment, only 5 blocks from here. I’ve got a win bonus coming through that would pay for the first three months at the new place and cover buying out my lease.” 

“How long would we lease this place?” Serena asked you. It was nice that she didn’t immediately begin to argue with you. Moving in together had been a hassle, one that had the two of you not speaking for days at a time. Things had been going spectacularly well over the past month, but only because you’d dropped the issue for the time being. 

“They’re offering a three month trial period,” you started. Serena’s eyes narrowed, knowing that wasn’t exactly normal. With a heavy sign, you continued, “Three year minimum. A quarter off the rent if we sign for five.” 

“What’s the difference in a quarter to full? Is it worth it for two extra years?” 

“4000 to 3000.” Serena scoffed at those numbers. She knew that rent prices weren’t cheap, but for what couldn’t have been more than one bedroom, she thought it was a bit much. “Serena, just think about it, please?” 

“Have you looked at it?” Serena asked you. You nodded and she reached over to grab a piece of paper. You watched as she wrote something down before handing it over to you. “Things might get a little tight, but I can guarantee you that much on the rent.” 

“You’re really prepared to spend at least five years living with me?” You honestly couldn’t believe it. 

“I know that I made it seem like I didn’t want to live with you, but that’s not true. I didn’t want to live in a studio apartment so far away from where I worked that I had to leave before 7. This way, there’s more space for us if we need it and I could honestly walk to work if I wanted,” Serena told you. “I’m getting out of here at 5 today, call the realtor and let’s just look at it tonight.” 

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Taglist: @vincent-millays​

#Serena Southerlyn #serena southerlyn x reader #serena southerlyn imagine #serena southerlyn imagines #Law & Order #law & order imagine #law & order imagines #law & order x reader

[be11atrixthestrange]

Waking Up In Vegas Chapter 5

After a night of debauchery, Ron and Hermione wake up in Vegas... married.

Muggle!AU. Romcom!Romione. Slow burning, smutty, angst-fest.

Rated M for reasons.

Ao3 | FFN

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More Chapters

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Chapter 5

[Ron]

How do people live in Las Vegas? Accustomed to the mild English sun, Ron finds himself wondering why the bloody hell someone would choose to reside in this heat. Wiping sweat from his forehead, he glances back at his phone. He's over halfway to his destination and can surely stand five more minutes of walking in the sun. Wishing he brought water, or even thought to put on sunscreen, he groans and continues on his way.

He's far beyond the flashy streets of the Las Vegas Strip, having ventured into a more run-down and understated part of town. The buildings no longer stand out, but blend together like a colorless mural, and his destination, Erised Elopements, is easy to miss. He's looking for a building marked by the number twelve, and it takes him a few passes down the block before he spots it. It's a skinny building, shoved between numbers eleven and thirteen, almost as if it's trying to be invisible. It gives Ron an eerie feeling, like it's hiding dark secrets inside.

However, any uneasy feelings vanish when he opens the door and steps into a wall of cool crisp air, inhaling a cold and nourishing breath. Thank goodness for air conditioning.

"Hello, sir! Welcome to Erised Elopements!"

Ron locks eyes with the bubbly receptionist beaming at him. He sends her a friendly nod, then scans the room. There's a large refrigerator stocked with bottled water, an indoor forest of tropical plants that look like prisoners in the dry heat, and in the corner of the room sits an elegant gold mirror that he recognizes from the logo behind the front desk.

Then his eyes wander to a pink plush sofa in the mirror's reflection. Sitting stiffly in a light blue sundress with her arms crossed in front of her body is Hermione Granger. Shit.

His heart rate spikes, and a prickling heat begins to rise up his neck as he dodges behind a pillar, sucking in a quick breath. Here he is again, hiding from women behind walls. It's becoming a theme.

"Sir? Are you okay?" The receptionist suddenly looks concerned as she rises to her feet. "You don't look well."

Coughing, Ron tries to obscure his voice. "Yeah, I'm fine," he huffs at a lower octave than feels natural.

"Well, there's water in the fridge if you're overheated, and you can have a seat on the sofa; we will be with you in a second."

"Erm, thanks."

Ron wants to leave. He's tempted to turn out the door and run away, right back to the hotel, heat be damned, but his curiosity roots him to the spot.

Why is she here? Does she know?

He takes a deep breath and approaches the pink fluffy sofa with trepidation. Hermione must sense someone nearing because she snaps her head in his direction and meets his gaze.

Her jaw drops, and her cheeks flush crimson. "What are you doing here?" she hisses.

"Hi, Hermione," he splutters. "Fancy seeing you here."

"Ron, seriously, why are you here?" Her eyes flit around the room as if looking for a hidden camera, some kind of confirmation that this is all a prank.

Sighing, Ron shoves his hand into his pocket and pulls out their marriage certificate. "I'm here because—"

She interrupts him. "Did you know?"

Ron gapes at her, utterly confused as to how she found out, then nods.

"And you didn't say anything?"

Sighing, Ron shrugs. He meets her icy stare and sends her a look of apology. "I was hoping I could fix it before you found out."

"You could fix it? Without telling me? Don't you think I have a right to know?" She rises to her feet, uncrossing her arms to place them on her hips. Her frizzy hair crackles with static electricity, giving her the appearance of someone deranged. Theoretically, it should scare him into submission, but instead, her confrontational stance ignites a flame from somewhere within him. It gives him an adrenaline rush, and he doesn't hate it.

"I thought you'd prefer not to know, based on how horrified you were this morning," he challenges back, his voice matching hers in strength and volume.

"So how was I supposed to find out we were," she says, her eyes darting vigilantly around the room, "married?"

Even in the frigid air, Ron's palms begin to sweat. He shrugs. "Honestly, I didn't think that far ahead."

She scoffs, folding her arms across her chest again. Like Ron's palms, her forehead glistens with sweat that doesn't belong in the abrasive air conditioning. "That's the attitude that got us into this mess; how did you figure it would get us out?"

Matching her stance, Ron hardens his gaze. "What would you have done?"

"I would have told you," she says with an air of finality.

Ron laughs. "If that's the case, why are you here alone? Why did you ask if I knew?" When she doesn't answer and her eyes narrow, he adds, "You weren't going to say anything either, were you?"

She exhales audibly and stiffens her jaw, tense and trapped without a response.

"That's bullshit, Hermione, acting like I'm the dishonest one here."

"You're infuriating," she says, shifting her gaze out the window.

"You're just as responsible for this! Don't put it all on me!"

"Oh, come on, I never do stuff like this."

Scoffing, Ron says, "Trust me, I know. Spontaneity isn't your thing."

"Impulsivity isn't my thing. I generally think before making big life decisions."

"And I don't? Believe it or not, Hermione, this is the first time I've accidentally gotten married. And I was just as horrified as you to find out."

When she whips her head back to face him, her face is expressionless, and Ron wonders what it's masking. Like the building's secretive facade, it looks forced. "Well, at least we agree that it was a mistake. Let's just straighten it out, then pretend it never happened."

Pretend it never happened. That's what they both want, right?

"Okay. Let's just make it disappear," he says, and they both take a seat on the sofa, separated by a wall of thick, icy air.

x

"Well, hello! Can I help you two?" Ron and Hermione look up to see a short, stout man with circular spectacles and the beginning of a handlebar mustache. He's dressed in black golf pants and a polo shirt that's at least one size too small, and something about him puts Ron on edge. "I'm Dave, the owner and CEO of Erised Elopements."

Hermione is the first to speak. "Yes, actually. We have a problem, sir."

"So do I!" says Dave cheerfully. Ron and Hermione stare blankly at him, confused. He diffuses it with a hearty laugh, color flooding his cheeks. "Just a joke, just a joke. Come on into my office!"

They share a nervous glance as they follow his lead. Dread pools in Ron's stomach. Oddly, he feels like he's approaching the witness stand in a courtroom and makes a note to be careful what he says.

"Go ahead, have a seat! Make yourselves comfortable," says Dave, motioning toward two armchairs in front of his desk. They're upholstered with green velvet, and Ron wonders when they were last cleaned. "What can I do for you?"

"Hi, sir—" starts Hermione.

"Dave."

"Sorry?"

"Just call me Dave. 'Sir's' too formal, and here at Erised Elopements, we're all friends." Dave beams, revealing white, unnaturally straight teeth.

"Okay...Dave. Here's the problem. We got married last night." Hermione motions vaguely between herself and Ron.

"Oh, congratulations!" Dave claps his hands together in excitement.

"No sir…I mean Dave—"

"I knew I recognized your faces from somewhere. Hold on one second." Dave silences them with a finger, reaches for a remote control, and points it toward a large black flatscreen monitor on the wall. It lights up, and Dave scrolls through a few photographs, eventually landing on one of Ron and Hermione. Ron's holding her up and pressing his lips to hers, her arms snaking around his neck. Above them are the words "Just Married." Ron is horrified and glances at Hermione, but for some reason, she doesn't seem surprised by the photo. "There! It's Ron and Hermione, right?"

"Yeah," says Ron tentatively, still staring wide-eyed at the photo.

"Well, congratulations again. You two make a lovely couple!"

"Thank you," he mumbles without meaning it. The words feel like they've been extracted from him, and it's unsettling.

Dave leans back and stacks his feet onto the table, paying no attention to the stacks of paper, empty picture frames, and take-away lunch container he's knocked aside in the process. Hermione looks on with wide eyes. "Honestly, sometimes couples waltz into Erised Elopements and have everyone thinking 'oh for fuck sake, these two should not be getting married', so it's incredibly refreshing to see such a happy couple. Really, congratulations again."

"About that. We didn't mean to get married," says Hermione hastily.

"Ahhh."

"Yeah. It was kind of a shock to us this morning, actually," she says, shrugging. She smiles at Ron in a sheepish manner that doesn't match her fiery demeanor.

"How lovely!"

"Sorry? Lovely?"

"Yes! It's perfect!" Dave reaches for a pen and notepad and begins scribbling as if taking notes on their conversation. Ron shifts uneasily. "I just love the idea that the best things in life are surprises. It speaks to how important it is to keep an open heart and let life happen to you."

Ron and Hermione exchange confused looks. "I think you misunderstand."

Ignoring them, Dave continues. "We've been working on a new ad campaign, and that sums up our message perfectly."

"Sir—"

"Sometimes, you don't even know your heart's truest desire until it's on your doorstep—"

"Dave," says Ron firmly.

The pen stops. "Yes?"

"We don't want to be married," says Ron, his tone stiff and forced.

"Sure you do!"

"No," adds Hermione. "This was a huge mistake. We need to undo it, if possible."

"Undo it?"

"Yes, cancel it. The whole thing," she says, gesturing between them again.

"I'm sorry, I'm afraid that won't be possible."

"Excuse me?" Hermione's eyes are wide and disbelieving.

Dave removes his feet from the table and sits up straight. Although short, he appears commanding. "What you're asking for is an annulment, and unfortunately, you waived your right to an annulment yesterday when you signed your marriage license." He opens a drawer, shuffling for a piece of paper. "See, here's a copy of our contract; it's all there if you read the fine print."

Hermione snatches the document from his hand. "This can't be legal."

"It's perfectly legal in the state of Nevada," he says, shrugging.

"You don't let anyone get an annulment?"

Dave laughs. "Wouldn't be very good for branding, don't you think? We pride ourselves on marriages that last. For most people, when they see a high annulment rate, they don't exactly think 'Happily Ever After,' you know? In fact, we go beyond that. We promise 'Blissfully Ever After.'"

Ron and Hermione join heads to scan the document. "So, you're saying we're stuck married?" Ron asks finally.

"Well, I wouldn't think of it as stuck, per se. You're starting to sound like my wife."

"You're married too?"

"Sure. Technically," chuckles Dave. "But you're not 'stuck.' With that mindset, your marriage will never work."

"We don't want it to work. It was a mistake," says Hermione, slowly and clearly. Ron feels his stomach clench at her words, but he's unsure why.

"Give it a chance! Even the good things in life require effort!"

"Listen, we barely know each other—"

Dave cuts her off. "Perfect! You have no history, no past that'll keep coming back to screw everything up."

"I'm sorry," says Ron. "I'm not sure what you mean by that—"

Dave gestures toward Hermione, who looks affronted. "Listen to me. This is an opportunity. She hasn't broken your heart yet, so when you see that she has an 'office happy hour' on a Friday night, you're not tempted to show up at the bar just to check on her. Even if you do show up and see her alone with her 'coworker'," his fingers make air quotes as he speaks, "she doesn't know about your 'addiction' to porn, or how much money you lost at the slots. She doesn't know anything about you, and that's a beautiful thing, Ron, because she can't use any of it to justify her affair and make you look like the controlling one. She has nothing on you, at least not yet. Trust me; a blank slate is a beautiful slate. You have a chance to keep it that way, so I'd recommend not fucking it up."

Ron's mouth drops open, and he glances at Hermione, who is also wearing an expression of horror. This is not about them anymore.

"Turn around," demands Dave. "Go on, your chairs swivel."

Reluctantly, they swivel their chairs and turn to face another mirror, identical to the one in the lobby and the one on the logo. Engraved on the golden frame are the words 'heart's desire', over and over again, in fonts that don't seem to match. Ron assumes it's not meant to be stared at too closely.

"What do you see?"

"Us," states Hermione plainly.

"Well, yes, you, but more importantly, this mirror shows your heart's one true desire."

"It's just a mirror," says Ron.

"It's your heart's desire," responds Dave firmly.

Ron stares at their reflection; his face is red and peeling from the sun, new freckles invading his features. Hermione is scowling, hair erupting from her head like a volcano, arms and legs wound tightly into knots. They don't look happy.

"Now, if there's anything else I can help you with, by all means, shoot. But if not, then enjoy your Blissfully Ever After!" Dave motions for them to stand, and they oblige. He moves toward the door, opening it and gesturing them through.

"If it's not working in six months, you're more than welcome to file for divorce," he calls after them. "But give it a chance, don't disrespect love. Honor your heart's true desire."

Speechless, Ron and Hermione stumble out back into the lobby.

"Come again soon!" says the receptionist as they pass her desk.

They press open the door and emerge back outside, once again engulfed by the aggressive heat. Ron glances at Hermione. "That was a disaster."

"I'll say."

"Er, I guess we just should go back to the hotel. Try to enjoy the rest of the day?"

Hermione nods. "I guess. And file for divorce as soon as possible."

Ron sighs. "You read my mind," he says, although it's not entirely true.

"I guess we're just so in tune," she chuckles, and Ron, surprised by her sudden pleasantness, suppresses a smile.

"That's why you're my wifey," he risks, glancing nervously at her to gauge her reaction.

"Please, don't say that," she groans, and her cheeks flush adorably red, most likely a result of the Las Vegas heat.

#Ron Weasley #Hermione Granger #Ron and Hermione #ron x hermione #ronweasley #hermionegranger #ROMIONE #romione fanfic #romione fanfiction #hp fanfic #hpromione #muggle AU #waking up in vegas #romione au

[moody-bloosh]

"we broke up after i left and moved away and months later i find out you rushed to the airport to stop me but you were too late " MOODY THIS IS PERFECT FOR CHEATING BRUNO AND HIS EX-WIFE AAAAAAH!!!!

the promised epilogue. this ask has languished in my inbox for so long but i’ve finally gained the power to write this out! ^ u ^ alright fellow masochists, 

[ chapter navigation: : Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 ]  

here we are at the end (bruno bucciarati) 

you can’t bring yourself to look at him. even now, your gaze is trained on the floor, your hands clasped together nervously. even though you can hear the sound of his fountain pen scritching across the table. it’s quiet in the dining room of your old home, so quiet that you can hear the careful plip plop of your kitchen sink a walk away. 

after a small eternity, you hear his pen on the table. he takes in a breath as if he wants to say something but he doesn’t. 

what else is there to say at the end? 

“i’ll send your things over,” he tells you in an even tone. 

“no need,” you manage to hear yourself say, “i don’t need anything.” 

you manage to push yourself to finally look up, to meet his gaze. you notice just the slightest bit of tears forming against his eyes. 

“you don’t have to worry bruno,” you manage to tell him patiently, your tone is sincere and your heart is clear. there is no lingering pain, there is no regret on your side. 

“i’m happy here, bruno,” you say. 

to make sure he doesn’t worry anymore than he has to. you don’t tell him this in hopes that he suffers more. 

“i see,” bruno says as a tired smile blooms on his face, “i’m glad.” 

the last time you smiled like that... how long ago was that? 

he stands up, taking the divorce papers with him. but the vision of you in his mind doesn’t fade away. he sees you in the seat in front of him, a gentle smile on your face. 

you used to smile so much around him. but in the latter years of that marriage, that bright smile had dampened. he arranges the papers carefully and then he walks out. 

your ghost haunts him. a testament to just how much you made this house a home for him. he makes his way to your new apartment, to deposit the divorce papers at your door - to finally end things properly. and yet, his feet drag against the floor, despite everything, he doesn’t want this to end. 

but he loves you, he understands that now. he loved you, he loves you. 

that’s why he wanted to keep holding, even though he knows to let you go. 

little contradictions that made what he was doing harder. 

that night, he should have searched for you. instead, he spent it wallowing in regret, growing drunk on the hope that maybe - maybe this was just a time out even though all roads let to one end. 

he doesn’t remember how he makes it to your apartment, all he knows is that when he drops the divorce papers off there, he still doesn’t want to believe it. but now, hearing the gavel bang. he has to accept it now. He has to. He has to... 

But he doesn’t want to.

You turn around to give your lawyer a great big hug as you leave the courtroom. A relieved sigh leaves you. It’s finally over. 

Bruno looks down at the floor outside the courtroom, a resigned expression on his face. There was a time, when you would have revelled in that look on his face, when you would have openly gloated. But you don’t do that today, instead you walk over to him, and you speak to him in an even, measured tone. 

“The landlady told me,” you begin, “you paid the deposit for my new apartment for the whole month when I left. Leone told me that you wanted to spend the whole night tracking me down.” 

Bruno blinks as he looks up at you. Your eyes are steely, determined. 

“He said you wanted to stop me, that you wanted to try and fix things.” 

You take a shaky breath, but you force yourself to continue. 

“You were too late.” 

“I know,” he answers back tiredly. “I knew that, but I still wanted to try.” 

“I hope,” you trail off as you consider your last words to him, “I hope you find your happiness, Bruno.” 

“Yeah,” he says quietly, “I wish you well, _____. I mean that.” 

“Thank you,” you manage to say. “Goodbye, Bruno.” 

He reaches out, just as you turn around. 

“Wait,” he whispers as he hugs you, his arms shaking as he holds you one last time. “Just give me this last few seconds.” 

One second trailing off into another, and he can fool himself that everything is alright. But he can’t do that anymore. It’s over, one more person leaving him but this time, it’s all his fault. 

“You have to let go now,” you tell him sadly. 

He doesn’t want to. He can feel the words on his lips now. 

I’ve changed. I’ll show you. I’ll spend the rest of my life proving it to you. Just please - 

“Don’t go.” 

But you do. You gently extricate yourself from his grasp and you walk away. 

You don’t look back. 

#cheating au #cheater!bruno #bruno buccellati x reader #vento aureo #golden wind #Anonymous

[bidoldaccount]

Grow As We Go - loose ends

word count: 1,937

tying up loose ends :)

ONE ; TWO ; THREE ; FOUR ; FIVE

Read on AO3

Read on Wattpad

"Dad!" Dean flinched as Jack came sprinting into the garage, out of breath with red cheeks. Dean nearly knocked himself out on the hood of a vintage corvette he was rebuilding.

"Jack!" He attempted to match his enthusiasm but failed as he stood up straight, his back popping.

"Dad said we could go to the aquarium!" He said with a wide smile.

"I said we could go this weekend," Castiel corrected, appering behind Jack with a fond roll of his eyes.

"Why can't we go today?" Jack frowned, blinking up at Cas.

"Jack, you have visitation with your mom today," Castiel pointed out gently, laying his hand on the eleven year olds shoulder. Jack's face fell, he settled his eyes back on Dean with a frown.

"Do I have to go?" He asked.

"It's only for a few hours and Mrs. Talbot will be there the whole time," Dean said, dropping the rag in his hand so he could nudge Jack's chin.

"I'd rather stay home with you," Jack mumbled, turning back to Cas, wrapping his arms around him waist and burying his face in his stomach. Cas pressed his hands to Jack's back and rubbed it softly.

"We know buddy, but it'll be good for you to have a relationship with your mom," Cas said, catching Dean's eye roll and giving him a pointed look while Jack wasn't looking.

"She spends half of our visitation on her phone or talking about her real kids," Jack said.

"Jack, you are her real kid," Dean said.

"No," Jack pulled his face away from Cas' stomach and looked back at Dean. "I'm your kid," he looked up at Cas and repeated, "I'm your kid. I have two dads and no mom, and I like it that way," he said.

"I'm sorry, buddy," Cas smiled tightly, his eyebrows furrowed down with soft sympathy. "Why don't you talk to Mrs. Talbot about it, maybe she'll have some advice for you."

"Whatever," Jack pulled away and stomped back into the house. Castiel sighed heavil, taking the few steps towards Dean until he could wrap his arms around his husbands shoulders.

"I hate sending him to her," he whispered even though Jack had slammed the garage door.

"Me too," Dean shook his head, placing his hands on Castiel's hips, holding his husband close. "But we have no choice. Until our next court date when they let Jack tesifty, we just have to show that we're cooperating. Plus, she's missed three visits and Bela started supervising again because she kept him longer than she was allowed. It doesn't look good and Sam is really confident that they'll give us full custody," Dean said, rubbing his thumbs in comforting circles at Cas' hips.

"Sam's biased," Cas mumbled. "I'm just worried that they'll take the woeful mother bit," he said.

"Let's not think about it, okay? Come on, lets go take Jack out for breakfast before he has to go," Dean leaned in to kiss Castiel's lip, lingering for a few seconds before pulling away.

"Okay," Cas sighed, reeling in his emotions before they went inside.

They go to court two months later, on a rainy tuesday afternoon. Jack wears a button up that Castiel had ironed with trembling hands. Kayla shows up with her mother, who had actually been very adamant that she had no knowledge of Jack's existence and wanted to be present in his life. She was very reassuring from the beginning that she wouldn't dare fight them for custody because of what good parents they seem to be.

Kayla had smirked their way and they avoided her gaze at all costs. The judge allowed Jack to testify and the boy did so with a calm, even voice. He read from a piece of paper that he spent three weeks perfecting.

"When I was nine years old, I asked my dad, Castiel, why I didn't have a mother like some of my other friends had. He explained to me that when I was a baby, my mother was not ready to have a baby, so she gave me to my dad, Dean. He told me that it wasn't my fault that I didn't have a mother, and it wasn't her fault either, it was just the way life worked out sometimes. When my mother, Kayla, came back, a part of me was excited, because if like happened the way it does for a reason, then maybe I would be lucky enough to have two dads plus a mom. I never thought that I would be sitting here, fighting to stay with my parents. That is what they are. Dean and cas are my dads, that's what they have always been. Kayla has never been my mom, and she hasn't acted like one up to this point. She speaks poorly of my dads, even though I've told her that it makes me upset, she makes homophobic remarks, she took me to a mans house that she claimed was her boyfriend and I sat in a stuffy living room for two hours while she spent time in the bedroom with him," Castiel had to squeeze Dean's hand hand so he wouldn't be tempted to jump out of his seat. Deans jaw nearly popped with how hard he pressed his teeth together.

"I sent picture to my caseworker, Mrs. Talbot," Jack smiled proudly as Bela passed around the evidence. Kaylas eyes had widened and her attorney had objected. Cas stared wide eyed as their attorney assured Kaylas that the new evidence was submitted well before court started. Dean smiled proudly at Jack, and the boy beamed.

"I'd like to say one more thing if I may?" Jack asked the judge, the man gesturing for him to continue, his face was steel but his eyes were soft. Jack smiled at him, then looked towards his parents. "For what it's worth, you'll never meet better parents than my dads. I could list a hundred things that makes them amazing parents, but all I really have to say, is I have never once questioned their love for me. I might be young, but I know what love, and support, and stability means, because I have really good dads. I won't get that with Kayla, and I'd much rather stay in my loving home. Thank you," Jack nodded his head once and threw a questioning look at Bela. She nodded for him to get off of the stand and he did so quickly. He ran across the courtroom and threw his arms around both Dean and Cas' shoulders. They hugged him back tightly, both of them trying to hold back tears.

When the judge awarded them full custody, they cried. They cried right there in the middle of the court room until their attorney guided them out. Sam and his wife, Eileen, and kaylas mother, Judy, met them outside of the courtroom and they took turns hugging Jack.

-

"Dad, look!" Jack held up a new pair of drumsticks, and Dean looked at Sam with a sarcastically wide smile.

"Jee, Sam, how nice of you," he said through gritted teeth. Sam smiled innocently, then pretended like someone called him. Dean rolled his eyes and looked back to Jack as he opened another Christmas present. He couldn't lie, the sixteen year old was surprisingly good at the drums, Dean likes to take credit for it because of all the classic rock he played when Jack was a kid.

"Daddy, look what grandma Judy bought for me!" Dean looked down at Claire, five years old with the biggest smile on her face as she stood beside a giant box that contained a Princess vanity.

"Oh my, Judy!" Dean looked up at the woman with wide eyes.

"Hush, they're my grandkids, you got to let me spoil them," she said as she passed him. He smiled fondly, watching her plop herself onto the recliner that she always occupies when she visits. One of Dean's favorite outcome from Kayla popping up five year old, is Judy. Once the woman found out about Jack, she'd been a prominent figure in his life. Then they adopted Claire, at two years old after her parents died in a plane crash, and she treated Claire as if she were her blood.

Dean left Judy and the kids in the living room once all of the presents were opened, and he stopped Cas from leaving the kitchen when he tried to pass Dean. Cas gave him a questioning look, but Dean hushed him and guided him into the garage.

"What are you doing?" Cas asked with a small laugh.

"I have one more present for you, but I wanted to give it to you in private, mostly because it's really fucking cheesy," he explained as he walked to his toolbox. He pulled out a square shaped present, wrapped in newspaper because Dean is simple like that. He handed it to cas with red cheeks and stood back with his arms crossed as Cas eyed it. He had a soft smile on his face as he unwrapped it and his cautious smile turned to soft awe as the newspaper fell.

"It's stupid and cheesy but I thought you'd like it," Dean shrugged as Cas started flipping through the photo album Dean put together. It went in order of the years. The first few pages were in their shitty one bedroom apartment, early years of their first dates, the first night Castiel stayed over, and Cas' pride week outfits. Then Jack appeared, laying on Castiel's chest fast asleep, cas smiling wide as his hands hovered over where Jack was taking his first steps, first days of school, arts and crafts gone wrong when everything got covered in glitter, the first time Sam met Jack. Then it was middle childhood, soccer games and school plays, their wedding, in front of the courthouse when they won full custody. Then high school, the first time they took Jack to Pride, that time Cas broke his leg and they mistakingly gave him a bell to ring when he needed them, adopting Claire. Family trips, small moments, days spent at the park, random little things that made their life so worth living, they were all interspersed in there. Some of the notes that Dean kept from the lunches Castiel packed him, pictures the kids drew, notes Dean left for Cas on days he woke up first, copies of their wedding vows. They were all in there. Cas was crying when he finally finished flipping through, and he couldn't speak, so he threw his arms around deans shoulders and cried softly into his husbands neck.

"I take it you hate it?" Dean teased, even though his heart has never felt lighter.

"I love it, you asshole," Cas said, voice shaky. Dean chuckled, wrapping his arms around Castiel's waist, holding him tightly. "I love it so much, and I love you," cas pulled his head back so he could press his lips to Dean's, kissing him hard and passionately.

"I love you too, Cas," Dean whispered between breathless kisses. Castiel sniffled as he pulled away, holding the photo album tightly against his chest.

"Let's go inside, I can feel Claire bargaining with Judy for another slice of pie," Castiel laughed softly to cover up how much he wanted to cry out of pure joy.

"Just let me kiss you for a little longer," Dean said, holding his hips close. Cas smiled, settling into Dean's arms and allowing himself to stand there, in the garage that Dean built, with their family safe and happy inside, and kiss his husband.

#Dean winchester #castiel winchester #destiel #destiel fluff #destiel fanfic #deancas #destiel au #modern setting #jack winchester #jack kline #claire novak #claire winchester

[the-mighty-jellybean]

Black & Blue

Bruise: an injury appearing as an area of discoloured skin on the body, caused by a blow or impact rupturing underlying blood vessels...

Series Summary:

‘They littered her arms like splashes of watercolor paints, Steve couldn't stop staring, she pulled at the sleeves of her cardigan when she caught him. “I fell.” she muttered, pulling the fabric tight over her fragile body. All Steve wanted to do was pick her up, and put her in a box, like you would a broken bird. He wanted to fix this little bird, but he didn't know how.’

Pairing: Doctor!Steve x Reader, Brock x Reader

Series Warning: This story is going to be quite dark and heavy, and will contain heavy themes of domestic abuse. There will be: Violence and possible Noncon, if you are uncomfortable with any of these themes, please don't read, this book won't be for you.

Part One//  Part Two//   Part Three//  Part Four//  Part Five//  Part Six//  Part Seven//  Part Eight//  Part Nine//  Part Ten// Part Eleven// Part Twelve//  Part Thirteen//  Part Fourteen//  Part Fifteen//

Part Sixteen: Day One

Chapter Warnings: None, they’re in a courtroom for gosh sakes, they need to watch their mouths, but also Smug AF Brock, try not to get triggered 

Word Count: 3.2k

Everyone had filed in for the first day of trial, Y/N and Steve were sitting at their usual bench, Mayor T’Challa sat next to Y/N. Nakia and Shuri were talking in hushed whispers, using lots of hand signals, and pointing at documents on the wooden desk. Rumlow’s defence team, were sat on the other side of the court room, Brock wasn’t there, he was yet to be brought out by the guards, after his night in the cells.

Then the sound of a heavy lock clicking, and the grinding of the door, had Y/N and Steve staring, as it slid open to reveal Brock, in a new suit, but his face looked worn and tired, his hair was slightly ruffled, and he appeared drained. His soulless eyes, scanned the courthouse, settling upon Y/N, making her shiver, and Steve pulled her tighter, noticing the marked man’s glare.

Rumlow dragged his feet to his table, sitting with Zola, and engaging in their own harsh, but hushed whispers.  

Court began when Judge Carol Danvers was introduced by Clerk Carter, and she took her seat at her bench.

“Prosecution, please call your first witness to the stand.” Judge Danvers, signalled to Nakia,

“Thank you, your Honour. I call to the stand Mayor T’Challa.”

Nakia then turned to Mayor T’Challa. He stood, fastening the button of his finely pressed suit jacket, then strolled to the stand.

“Will the witness please stand to be sworn in by the clerk.” Margret stood from her seat, and walked to the stand, carrying the bible.

“Please raise your right hand,” T’Challa lifted his hand, “Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?”

“I do.”

T’Challa sat down at the lectern, whilst Nakia gathered some paper, before moving towards the stand, clearing her throat.

“Mayor T’Challa, how do you know the defendant?” Nakia asked, pacing back and forth in front of the witness stand.

“I employed him to assist me in a lawsuit case, against the board of education, after I was racial discriminated against, when I applied to be member of the board, over a year ago.” T’Challa explained.

“Was the trial successful?”

“Yes, he helped me to successfully win the case, but that wasn’t my last meeting with Mr Rumlow.” T’Challa replied, darkly.

“How many times have you come across Mr Rumlow during your career as Mayor?” Nakia, had moved closer to the jury now, and was walking along the barrier that separated them from main court.

“Mr Rumlow had begun to appear at City Hall more frequently post the lawsuit, often for financial reason, claiming he was needing payment for his services to me. However, I paid for Mr Rumlow’s services personally, so I could not understand why there was an account that was being paid by City Hall finances directly.”

Brock shifted uncomfortably, looking to Zola, who’s face remained stoic.

“What made you think the Mr Rumlow was involved?”

“I confronted Mr Rumlow, after I checked through the financial accounts with my assistant Okoye, and I noticed there was over $3 million, missing from the accounts, being paid to S.H.I.E.L.D legal firm, I asked him why there was so much money being transferred to the firm, despite, the fact that I had already paid Mr Rumlow.”

“What was Mr Rumlow’s reaction?”

“He became aggressively defensive. Mr Rumlow started to shout, and became very hostile towards me, it caused me to call for security, so that Mr Rumlow would be removed from the building. I thought that would be the end of it, until I received a death threat.” The court began to chatter, excitement bubbling from the back of the room, from the journalists.

“Quiet in the court please.” Judge Danvers demanded, the room fell quieter, and the attention was back on the stand.

“When did you receive this death threat?” Nakia continued her line of questioning.

“On May 23rd of last year, this was the same day that I had confronted Mr Rumlow about the missing money.”

“How was the death threat delivered to you?”

“It was left on the hood of my car, that I found once I left City Hall that day. It was in a zip lock bag, under the wipers of my car.” Nakia pulled something from her briefcase and lifted it aloft for the jury to see.

“Is this the death threat that you received?”

“Yes.” T’Challa confirmed.

“Members of the jury, I will now read the note out loud for you all to hear;

If I only knew then what I know now…I would have smothered you with a pillow, dump your body in the back seat. Dropped you off in East River, and made it look like a rape and murder.”

The court room appeared disgusted by the note, the jury’s faces were appalled, and they whispered among themselves. Brock once again shifted in his seat, Zola was frantically scribbling down notes on a piece of paper, Shuri and Nakia were smiling at each other.

Nakia turned back to T’Challa, after leaving the death threat on the jury bench.

“What did you do, after you received the death threat?”

“I went back into City Hall and began to launch an investigation into who had left this on the hood of my car. I checked the security cameras, that are positioned facing my car. It revealed a hooded man, of a similar size and build to Mr Rumlow, dressed in dark clothing, placing the note, within the bag on the hood of my car.”  

“Did you attempt to confront, Mr Rumlow about the death threat?”

“I called him to my office the next day; I told him I needed to discuss something with him, I did not specify what that meeting was about.” T’Challa recounted, honestly.

“What was his response?”

“He did not respond to my phone call, I just got an automated email, to tell me that I need to apply for an appointment, so I decided to just file a police report. They told me they could do nothing because of my position as Mayor death threats were highly likely.” T’Challa concluded.

“Thank you, Your Honour, no further questions.” Nakia nodded and sat at her desk with Shuri.

“The Defence may cross-examine the witness.” Judge Danvers confirmed, Zola stood from his desk, and walked towards T’Challa’s stand, the paper clutched in his hand.

“Mayor T’Challa, you admitted that you first employed Mr Rumlow yourself, last year?” Zola began.

“Correct.” T’Challa response was short and quick.

“You chose Mr Rumlow to represent you because you know that he is a good lawyer.” Zola spoke pointedly.

“I chose Mr Rumlow because he had a high success rate, yes.” T’Challa agreed.

“Remind me again, what the case was for?”

“I was racial discriminated against-“

“You’ve faced a lot of racial discrimination over the last few years of your office, isn’t that correct?” Zola interrupted.

“Um…yes, you could say that-“

“It’s a common occurrence that you receive death threats, the police themselves admitted that it was part of your job to receive certain threats, did you not just admit that yourself?”

“Yes I did, but-“

“Would it be safe to say that you feel that you are very aware of racial discrimination within your working area, and therefore it’s something that is persistently on your mind?” Zola was leaving no room for T’Challa to answer, overpowering him with ease.

“Yes, as a black Mayor, there is often issue surrounding my skin colour and my ability to lead.”

“So, it is something that is on your mind.”

“Not intentionally-“

“Therefore, you just assumed that Mr Rumlow’s anger towards you may have been racially motivated.”

“What-no..I didn’t-“ T’Challa was beginning to grow visibly frustrated, his face crunching up.

“Do you often take such an interest in your finances?” Zola was quick to change the subject, feeling that the jury were seeing the side that he wanted to bring out.

“I do when money goes missing.” T’Challa’s anger was rising, and he gripped the side of the lectern like Brock had done so yesterday.

Y/N had been watching the back of Brock’s head intensely since Zola had took the stand, she noticed that he had now sat up straight, and the knowing smirk that had been on his face yesterday, was once again gracing his face.

“Does money often go missing at City Hall, are our public finances not being as well watched as you’d like us to believe?” Zola spoke coldly, and T’Challa tensed.

“I can assure you that the finances at City Hall are well monitored, I was alerted to the disappearance of the money by my assistant Okoye.” T’Challa spoke through his teeth.

“So, you didn’t spot the disappearance of money initially, but actually it was a second party?” Zola voiced cleverly.

“Correct.” T’Challa gritted through his teeth.

“Could there have been a misunderstanding, did you actually see the documents, detailing the money transfers?”  Zola leaned on the jury bench.

“I saw copies-“ T’Challa muttered.

“Could you say that a bit louder, Mayor T’Challa?” Zola demanded, lifting his hand to cup his ear.

“I saw copies, but-“ T’Challa once again was not able to speak his whole truth, as Zola turned his back on him, and walked away.

“No further questions, your Honour.” Zola finished, sitting back at his desk, Brock had leant back on his chair, the smug look on his face, made Steve’s blood bubble.

“Thank you, Mayor T’Challa, please take a seat.” Judge Danvers waved him from the stand, whilst noting things on her own documents.

T’Challa moved from the stand, sitting next to Y/N, who gave him a nervous smile. He didn’t mirror it, instead he placed his head in his hands.

“Can the defendant take to the stand, for examination from the Defence and Prosecution.” Rumlow stood with confidence and strutted to the stand.

“Clerk Carter, please swear the defendant in.”

Margret once again walked to the stand, asking Rumlow to hold up his right hand, and swore him in, before returning to her previous position.

Zola stood from the desk and walked to Brock.

“Mr Rumlow, how long were you employed by Mayor T’Challa for his case, against the Board of Education?” Zola asked.

“I was under Mayor T’Challa’s employment for eight months.” Rumlow replied.

“How much would this cost, assuming you were treating the Plaintiff as a normal client?” Zola began to pace like Nakia had done, resting his chin on his hands, which were balanced on his folded arms.

“Well the case was very complex, but I did charge a standard price for Mayor T’Challa of $100,000 for every meeting that we had.” Brock smirked.

“Is this the invoice that you gave Mayor T’Challa?” Zola held a piece of paper in his hands, for the jury to see.

“Correct.”

“To members of the jury I have given you all a copy of the invoice, please take note of the final number, written at the bottom of the document. As you can see it reads, $1.3 million as the final charge, not the supposed three million that is said to be missing.”

Another murmur went around the court room.

“Mr Rumlow, were you working as a free-lance attorney, at the time, or were you working under S.H.I.E.L.D. legal firm?” Zola continues.

“I was working as an attorney for S.H.I.E.L.D at the time.” Rumlow responded.

“So, how much of the percentage of the fee, do you receive from S.H.I.E.L.D?” Zola, once again started to pace the court room.

“I only receive 20% of the total fee, for my services.” Rumlow clarified, he appeared to be in a place of relax, he sat back on the chair, his face appeared bored.

“Who handles the finances?” Zola picks up another document.

“S.H.I.E.L.D.” Brock shrugged, leaning onto his closed fist.

“So, if a mistake had been made, would you know about it?” Zola tapped his pen on his chin, appearing to be deep in thought.

“No, I’m not aware of the financial side of my job, the only involvement with the money that I have is when my pay check comes to me at the end of the month.” Rumlow chuckled, and the jury smiled, which made Y/N’s stomach twist.

“To clarify, you don’t have any involvement in the payment methods of S.H.I.E.L.D legal firm?” Zola looked up at the jury as he asked his question.

“I do not have anything to do with how S.H.I.E.L.D pays it’s employees.” Rumlow confirms.

“No more questions, your Honour.” Zola nodded to Judge Danvers, then returned to his seat.

Nakia stood, with a purpose, clutching a sheet of paper in her fists, a look of power on her face.

“Mr Rumlow, as the Defence ignored the allegation of conspiracy to commit murder, I’m going to question you on that.” Nakia moved forward, “As the first witness mentioned before, you can be quick to anger, can’t you?”

“Objection-leading the witness.” Zola yelled from his bench.

“Sustained.” Judge Danvers agreed.

“Would you say that you struggle with controlling your temper?” Nakia continued.

“Objection-Leading the witness.” Zola protested once again.

“I’ll sustain it this time, however; Nakia could you rephrase the question.” Judge Danvers responded.

“Looking into your background, there is evidence that you part took in aggressive sports; such as, boxing and martial arts, is that correct?” Nakia moved on.

“Yes, as a child I did take part in boxing and karate, however; it was more about the discipline for the sport, not the aggression.” Rumlow replied, slightly tensed.

“Do you still enjoy these sports?” Nakia walked round to the jury.

“Occasionally I will box at my local gym, but I don’t compete anymore.” Rumlow confessed.

“What do you mean by discipline, Mr Rumlow?” Nakia leant against the jury bench.

“Discipline in sport, is often the ability for an individual to exert self-control.” Rumlow explained.

“Self-control is something that you struggle with, is it not, Mr Rumlow?”

“Objection-irrelevant.” Zola challenged.

“Over-ruled, Mr Rumlow answer the question.” Judge Danvers ignored Zola, eyes focused on Brock.

“Could you rephrase the question?” Rumlow shifted in his seat.

“Would you say that sometimes you lack self-control, when it comes to expressing your emotions?” Nakia did as Brock asked, but he still seemed uncomfortable.

“Being an attorney is a highly stressful job, I try to keep a level head, sometimes I can get frustrated.” Rumlow sat up on his chair, and leant forward.

“How do you express your frustration, Mr Rumlow?” Nakia asked, flatly.

“I…um…well-“ Rumlow stammered, he wasn’t sure what to do, he was frozen.

“Do you become violent; do you take you aggression out on others?”

“Objection-leading the witness.” Zola shouted once again.

“Over-ruled, answer the question, Mr Rumlow.” Judge Danvers demanded.

“I…don’t know…how.” Brock stammered, wiping at his forehead that had started to bead with sweat.

“Thank you, your Honour, I don’t have any further questions.” Nakia smiled, walking past the jury, who were all muttering to each other.

“That will conclude trial for today, we will commence once again tomorrow morning. The Prosecution and the Defence please prepare your witnesses for the secondary charges that will take the stand tomorrow. Officer Coulson and Officer Wen, please take Mr Rumlow back to his cell.” Judge Danvers concluded, Brock begrudgingly rose from his seat, and followed the two officers to the sliding door, disappearing behind the iron door.

“Court you are dismissed, and we shall continue this tomorrow morning.” Judge Danvers used her gavel to disperse the crowd.

Y/N fell into Steve’s side, letting out a breath she didn’t realise she was holding.

“You okay, bubba?” Steve wrapped his arm tightly around Y/N.

“Just want to get out of here.” She mumbled, Steve nodded, standing and guiding her from the room, Shuri and Nakia were following closely behind.

“Y/N, I know it’s been a long day, but could we just quickly discuss your testimony tomorrow?” Shuri asked, gently, noticing the drained look on her face.

“Um, sure, but can we do it somewhere else?” Y/N didn’t fancy staying much longer in the courthouse, wanting to just relax as best she could. The combination of seeing Brock and the squirming baby inside her was making her feel nauseous.

“Of course, we can head back to your hotel, or we can go to a coffee shop down the street?” Shuri offered.

“Let’s head to the coffee shop, I think Y/N could do with some food.” Steve opted, everyone nodding with agreement.

The group managed to weave their way through the crowd of photographers and news crews, and into the car, before they sped off to the closest coffee shop.

~~~~

“So, like Nakia questioned T’Challa, I’ll do the same for you, your answer will be evaluated by the jury and Judge Danvers, and it can be used against you by the opposition. So, before you answer make sure you understand the question, if you don’t then just ask me to rephrase the question or, to reiterate, and I’ll change it so you can.” Shuri began to give her masterclass, Steve and Y/N sat opposite her, sipping on their warm beverages, Y/N trying to stop her knee from bouncing nervously.

“If me or Mr Zola ask a difficult question, take time to respond, don’t rush, you don’t have a time limit.” Y/N nodded, sipping her drink, using two hands to stop her trembling fingers.

“If Zola asks you a question and you don’t want to answer the entire question, find a part that you can address.” Steve squeezed Y/N’s bouncing knee, helping to steady her.

“Also one major point is Zola might ask you some questions that you find uncomfortable, I will object if I think he’s gone too far, but if Danvers over rules it, then you will have to answer it, but be careful with the tone that you use, and the body language you portray, if you appear to be too sharp, or you look vulnerable, then Zola could accuse you of lying.” Y/N gulped all the information she just received made her stomach churn.

She looked at Steve, who gave her a reassuring smile.

“You’re going to be okay, sweetheart.” Steve assured her.

“You will Y/N, me and Steve will be with you the whole time. I will represent you as best I can, just be honest, stay calm, and you’ll be just fine.” Shuri promised, rubbing her hand on her knee.

“What about Peter, will he take the stand as well tomorrow?” Y/N looked up hopefully.

“I’m afraid we don’t know where Mr Parker is, he appears to have gone missing.” Y/N’s eyes widened, the worst scenarios playing in her head, like a horror movie.

“Do you think Brock has done something?” Y/N asked in a panic.

“There’s no suspicion surrounding his disappearance, but Sam is looking for him as best he can, that’s why he wasn’t at court. He’s been looking for him.” Y/N wasn’t convinced, people don’t tend to just disappear for no reason, however, Brock did have that effect on people.

“How long do we have to find him?” Y/N questioned.

“I don’t know, this trial could be over tomorrow, or it could be two months before we have a verdict.” Shuri spoke, sadly.

“Oh God.” Y/N sighed, flopping back onto the spongy couch of the coffee shop, rubbing her hands over her bump.

“I don’t know if I can do this.” Y/N huffed.

“We can do this, Y/N. We’re almost there. With the way Nakia made Rumlow sweat, that’s what we’re going to do again, the jury will swing in your favour, and we’re going to get him jailed.” Shuri insured.

“Your optimism is truly incredible.”

A/N: You just know that Brock’s going to pull some shiz tomorrow!!

Part Seventeen//

Taglist:

@this-is-a-chilis-drive-thru​​ @cutie1365​​ @saiyanprincesswanie @pasaaloquepasaa​​ @emma-is-a-nerd​​ @traumschiffe​ ​@putinovertime​​ @vibraniumdaisies​​ @brownsugur @speechlessxx​​​ @winchester-wifey​​ @buckys-forgotten-plum​​ @lou-la-lou​​ @candy-and-writing​​ @lemonadygirl​

#steve rogers #steve x reader #steve fic #steve angst #brock rumlow x reader #brock rumlow #dark fic #dark steve fic #dark marvel #marvel fanfiction #marvel movies #doctor!steve #doctor!steve x reader #domestic abuse #adult themes #reader insert

[p-artsypants]

Integrity (Part 4)

Ao3 | FF.net

As they claimed their seats, Adrien was aware of dirty looks being thrown in his direction. 

Is this how Marinette felt when Lila lied about her? 

Alya leaned forward in her seat. “Adrien, I’ll talk to some of the girls. I’ll get them to do that critical thinking thing you mentioned. And I’ll try to get Kim to apologize. What he said was just stupid.” 

“Thanks Alya, I appreciate it.” 

Miss Bustier entered the room. “Alright class, let’s get started.” 

“Miss Bustier!” Rose called, putting her hand up. “I think it’s best if Adrien left. Lila shouldn’t have to be in the same room as her abuser!” 

“Abuser? What’s going on?” 

Adrien dropped his head into his hands, exasperated. 

“Adrien touched Lila inappropriately, and when she told Gabriel about it, he fired her!” 

Miss Bustier looked horrified. “Class! This sort of thing is really none of your business! If this did happen, Lila needs to come to talk to me about it in private. I would like to be accommodating, but I find it unfair to deny class to someone without due cause.” 

“There is due cause!” Max yelled. 

“I have heard nothing about this from Lila herself, or Mr. Damocles. Has a restraining order been filed? Has any sort of investigation been launched? I find it extremely hard to believe Adrien would do something like this.” 

“That’s what Gabriel said!” Lila wailed. “He said Adrien was a perfect angel and he’d never do anything wrong! No one’s believed me yet! So why would Mr. Damocles?!” 

There was a knock at the door. 

Miss Bustier held up a finger, asking for a moment of silence, before she went to open it. 

Gabriel Agreste, looking minutely more frazzled than usual, strolled into the room, in person. 

Adrien swallowed and clenched his fists. 

The room was silent and tense. 

“Adrien, may I talk to you out in the hall, in private?” 

Trembling, Adrien answered. “No. You read my note.” 

“There’s nothing for you to be afraid of. Stop being so dramatic.” 

“I think I have every right to be afraid of you.” He whispered, the damn of emotions he had held back all morning just threatening to burst. 

Marinette got up from her seat, only to sit next to him, her arm around his shoulders. 

The action didn’t go unnoticed by anyone. 

Gabriel’s nostrils flared. “Did you tell her?” 

“No.” Technically, not a lie. “I haven’t said anything to anyone. She just...saw I was upset.”

“About what?” Asked Kim. “That you lied about Lila?” 

Gabriel’s steely gaze pierced Kim, forcing him to shut up. “This is none of your business, shut up.” 

Kim swallowed and shrank into his seat. 

“Now,” Gabriel continued, hedging his words. “I need to clear up some of what happened last night. It seems that you have assumed the worst. I don’t want to discuss it in front of your peers. Step into the hall with me.” 

Marinette squeezed his shoulder. 

“No. I don’t want to. I’m not comfortable with that.” 

“I don’t care about comfort right now, Adrien. I care about—“ he bit his tongue, censoring himself. “I care about our family.”

“If you care about our family, then know I’m scared of you.” 

Gabriel exhaled roughly. “You don’t need to be.” 

“The evidence says otherwise.” Adrien spoke softly. “So either say what you need to say, or go. I’m not moving.”

Gabriel ran a hand through his hair, loosing some locks and becoming even more frazzled appearing. “Please?”

Adrien shook his head.

Gabriel rolled his eyes, and considered his words. “I told you I trust you. I’m...sorry, about what happened last night. It wasn’t fair, but I was...paranoid, and frantic. That caused my regrettable actions.” 

“Did you ever find it?” Adrien asked. 

“No. And I don’t think I will. I have reason to believe I’ve been betrayed. So it’s over.” He breathed a long sigh. “There’s no reason for you to stay away.” 

“With all due respect, Father, I need some time to trust you again. And forcing me to come home won’t magically fix that.” 

Gabriel was quiet for a moment, clenching and unclenching his fists. It looked like he wanted to yell, to fight, to grab Adrien by the wrist and drag him out. 

But he did none of those things. 

“You’re a good kid, Adrien. I surmise you’ll be a great man. A better man than I ever was. I’ll give you your space.” He placed Adrien’s phone on the desk. “Just, please text me every once in a while, just so I know you’re safe. Alright?” 

Adrien took it. “I can do that.” 

“I’m sorry it came to this.” It looked like he had more to say, but he hesitated with so many eyes on him. So he just didn’t say anything and headed for the door. 

“Mr. Agreste?” Miss Bustier asked. 

He stopped in the doorway. 

“It seems like there’s a bit of...a catastrophe going on in my class at the moment. I was hoping you could shed some light on the situation?” 

“This is none of your business, Madame. Adrien and I will clear it up.” 

“With all due respect, sir. Lila has already gotten everyone involved. My students seem to want Adrien to leave the class.” 

He turned and looked at her. “What? Whatever for? She’s got nothing to do with this.” 

“Could you explain what Lila said to you yesterday?” 

“Miss Rossi?” Gabriel looked back at her, eyebrows furrowed, and then at Adrien. “Oh. I had forgotten. I didn’t speak to Miss Rossi yesterday. Adrien and I had a long talk about trust. He confided that he wasn’t uncomfortable around her because she touched him in a way he didn’t like, and asked that he not model with her anymore. I made the decision to fire her. I served her severance papers, and one of my managers contacted her. I didn’t talk to her at all.” 

“Mr. Agreste! How can you be so cruel to me?!” Lila shouted, real betrayal in her voice. “You said you trusted me! I could come to you about any problems I had! And I did! Your son molested me, and you fired me instead of believing me! And now you’re acting like it didn’t even happen!” 

“Do you have your severance papers with you?” He asked. 

Lila’s eyes widened. “No, they’re at home with my mother.” 

“I have a copy on my phone. Along with all severance letters we serve, because they are fairly similar in terms and conditions.” He took it out, and pulled it up. “Here, Madame, if you wouldn’t mind reading this.” He handed the phone to Miss Bustier. “Since Miss Rossi wants an audience, I will give her one.”

Miss Bustier studied the screen for a moment. “This looks like a scanned pdf of a letter, signed by Mr. Agreste. It reads as follows: 

“‘Mme. Lila Rossi, 

“I regret to inform you that we have decided to terminate your contract with Gabriel as of today. This decision is based on several conditions, as witnessed and corroborated by several Gabriel employees. These conditions include unprofessional behavior on set, including excessive noise when asked to be quiet, not following instructions, and yelling at other staff; tardiness and unexplained absences, falsified resume, and sexual harassment of another Gabriel employee. As per the terms of your contract, you will receive the allotted amount of your last modeling session, as enclosed with this letter. Please be advised as you apply for further employment, putting Gabriel on the application as a reference will automatically forward this letter of termination to your next employer. If you would like to reapply at Gabriel, you may do so after a two year waiting period. A second termination will result in a complete ban from Gabriel, including all positions of employment and communications with employees. Depending on the severity of your terms of termination, Gabriel reserves the right to seek legal compensation.

“Signed, Gabriel Agreste.” 

“Thank you,” Gabriel took his phone back. “In case you didn’t realize, I work with a lot of models. There are situations where changing happens in front of other people. We take sexual harassment very seriously. Adrien came to me first about this, and so I acted on it. If you want to counter sue and maintain that he’s at fault, feel free to do so. But, if it turns out you’re lying about this, and it goes to court, you’re looking at jail time.” 

Lila swallowed. “I’m not lying. I never lie.” 

“Like the time you lied to get into my house? Sure. I’ll see you in court then.” 

“Wait...” Lila paled. “We don’t need to take this to court. Just bring me back on as a model, and I’ll drop the whole thing.” 

“No.” Gabriel shrugged. “I don’t make any decisions without my lawyer present.” He turned towards the door. “One last thing,” he glanced over his shoulder at Marinette. “Take care of him, Miss Dupain-Cheng. He’s fragile.” And then he left. 

Desperate to not lose this game, Lila started her crocodile tears. “No! It can’t be! I can’t afford a lawyer! There’s no way I’ll win this case! I’ll lose just like all the other girls!” 

“Wait a second,” Mylene spoke up, hope in her voice. “You were just telling us last week that your uncle is one of the top attorneys in Florence! Surely he’ll help you!” 

Oops. 

“Oh...yes, I guess...I had forgotten about that.” 

“I think you’re going to need a good lawyer if you’re going to continue to lie.” Spoke Chloe, standing up. “I’m sorry Miss Bustier, I think we need to clear this up before class even starts, don’t you think?” 

Miss Bustier sighed. “I still maintain that we don’t need to be discussing this, but I know no one is going to be paying attention in class after all of that’s been said.” She walked around the front of her desk, leaning against it with her arms and legs crossed. “This is a very serious issue. This isn’t a courtroom, and I’m not making any judgement calls. If there truly is a problem here between Adrien and Lila, it will be solved in the courtroom.” She narrowed her eyes at her students. “But you all see and talk to each other every day. Rumors and one sided stories are going to spread either way. I’d rather have everyone have the same information and draw their own conclusions to maintain their own relationships. Nothing said here is to leave this classroom. So, let’s talk.” 

Marinette had yet to move from Adrien’s side. And she hadn’t spoken since coming into the classroom. 

Ever since Miracle Queen, Marinette had been disappointed in Chloe. There had seemed to be some hope for her, and yet Hawkmoth’s—or Gabriel’s rather—temptation to get the bee back had just been too strong. 

How many second chances could a girl get? Of course she was going to stand up for Adrien. He was her oldest friend. 

Marinette opted to watch patiently and see just where this went. 

“Lila, we know what Mr. Agreste said and what his timeline was. What happened to you yesterday, if you would share?”

“I don’t know…it’s just so painful.” Lila wiped a tear away. “But, yesterday, after Marinette burned me with her coffee—“ 

“When did that happen?” Miss Bustier asked, patiently. 

“Right after class. You had a meeting and we were all hanging out and talking. Everyone witnessed it.” 

“The coffee was cold, and I tripped.” Marinette defended, exhausted over this plot point.

“Either way,” Lila continued. “I went to the bakery and told Marinette’s mother what she did. She called my mother and told her that I deserved what happened to me!” 

Miss Bustier frowned. “Sabine said that?”

“That’s what I’m saying!” Nino scoffed.

“So then I went to Mr. Agreste.” 

“Why?” Asked Alya. “What prompted that?” 

“W-well at first, I wanted to let Gabriel know what kind of company his son was keeping, but then when I got there, everything spilled out! I confessed that Adrien molested me and he fired me!” 

“So, when did you punch Adrien?” Asked Max. 

“Afterwards! Adrien came home and he tried to grab me and threaten me! I punched him!” 

“What time did that happen?” 

“Right after school.” 

“I was with Marinette until 8 yesterday. You can ask my bodyguard, and her parents.”

“And I have the text you sent me at 6.” Nino held up his phone. “You were still with her then.” 

“Th-then it was after 8!” Lila clarified. “I wasn’t paying attention to time!”

“Okay.” Miss Bustier spoke calmly. “Now, Adrien. What about you?” 

His eyes slid over to Marinette’s for reassurance. 

She squeezed his hand. 

“After the coffee incident, I ran to the locker room to catch up with Marinette. She wasn’t doing well, and I offered to walk her home. Then we noticed an akuma coming after her, so we tried to run. She almost got akumatized, but she fought it off. Then she cried for a while. I stayed and watched out for another akuma. Then, we went to her house just as Lila was leaving. As she passed, she said ‘I’m going to your father next’ while smiling.” 

“That’s not true!” Lila shouted. 

“Lila, Adrien was quiet and patient through your account. You need to let him speak.”

She huffed and fell into her seat.

“I stayed at her house for a while until my father called, telling me to come home. He said that he ‘knew’ Marinette was violent. I knew that he thought that because of Lila. So I confessed that I didn’t feel safe around her, and that he shouldn’t trust her. He allowed me to stay with Marinette for dinner, and then when I came home, we talked more in length about how I felt. Then…things happened…and well. I don’t want to talk about it. But Lila wasn’t at my house when I came home. Last time I saw her was when she was leaving the bakery.”

“Okay,” nodded Miss Bustier. “You’ve both given your side of the story. You’re both accusing the other of inappropriate behavior. One of you is lying. But until you admit it, we’ll never know. But, this moment will shape the perceptions of your classmate’s opinions. I hope everyone sees how dangerous lying and manipulating is. Does anyone have anything they want to say as character testimony?”   

Chloe raised her hand. “Adrikins, I’m going to put you on blast.” She grinned wickedly at him. 

He shrugged, helpless. 

“Adrien Agreste, male model, top student, all around great guy, is desperately, hopelessly, and pathetically in love with one Ladybug.” 

Nino snickered from Adrien’s side. “Oh, we been knew.” 

“Every time Adrien and I talked, he would dissolve into talking about one of three women. A. His mother, of whom he missed dearly and was a saint of a woman. 2. Marinette Dupain-Cheng, of whom he respects and admires. And lastly, and most importantly, Ladybug. He talks about her the most. Ladybug this, Ladybug that. I love—loved Ladybug as much as the next girl but honestly, it was a little annoying. ‘I wonder how soft her hair is. Are her eyes the same bluebell blue without the mask? I wonder how far she could throw me? Do you think we could make it work if we dated?’” She mocked a gagging sound. “Never once did say anything sexual about her. Never did he ever mention Lila. And never has he had any sort of romantic relationship with anyone.” 

There were nods around the classroom, as students agreed with this logic. 

“However. Lila has lied to me, personally. She told me she had a secret code that got Ladybug to come to her when she needed help. It didn’t work, and I almost got akumatized over it. Furthermore, as we have already discussed, it was Lila’s evidence that got Marinette expelled, and Lila’s admission to having some stupid disease that reversed the punishment. Are all of you numb nuts starting to see the pattern here?” 

Nino stood, ready to present his own opinions. “Lila has promised us connections. She’s boasted about people she knows to get us parties, favors, and whatever else we need. But not once has she followed through. And not to mention all the ailments she’s claimed to have.” 

“It’s not fair to pick on someone for being disabled, Nino.” Kim argued back. 

“I’m not. Because she’s not disabled.” He pulled up his tablet. “I started keeping a list of her ailments, so Alya and I could make sure everything we did as a class was inclusive to her.” He raised a brow. “I don’t think Lila keeps track of her own illnesses.” He cleared his throat. “Ahem. Tinnitus in the left ear. Tinnitus in the right ear. Arthritis in the left wrist, arthritis in the right wrist. Ulnar necrosis in the left wrist. Fibromyalgia. Multiple Sclerosis. Cystic fibrosis. Asthma. Glaucoma. Seizures. Vertigo. OCD. ADHD. High blood pressure. Low blood pressure. Heart murmur. Anemia. Allergic to wheat, dairy, gluten, chocolate, soy, nuts, mold, shellfish, corn, cats, dogs, feathers, wool, polyester, and hot peppers.” 

“That’s all correct.” Lila stated cooly. 

“Except you eat pasta for every meal, and you only mention your allergies when someone brings in food, making yourself the center of attention. And you never seem like you’re in any pain unless it’s convenient to get out of an activity. My grandma has MS, and it’s no joke. Also, I double checked with the nurse this morning to make sure I didn’t miss anything. I shared my list with her, and she was really concerned because she didn’t have any of that on your file. She only had one thing written down. Do you know what it was?” 

Lila just stared at him, daring him. 

“Mythomania. Pathological lying. So your lying disease was the only truth you told. I deduce this was put on your file after you told Mr. Damocles.” 

Lila frowned at him. “Nino! I thought we were friends! How could you turn on me and lie like this? I know you and Adrien are friends but—“ 

“But nothing! Lila, you’re not my friend! You don’t listen to me, you don’t remember things I tell you, unless you can twist them to your favor! I mention an artist I like? You suddenly know them. You inspired them. But they’re shy and don’t meet with fans. I mention a movie I like? You were there during production. You know the director. But he’s out of the country on holiday. It’s the same story over and over. What’s my brother’s name?” 

Lila stammered. “It’s...it’s Mark!” 

“It’s Chris, and you’ve babysat him before!” 

“I have short term memory loss!” 

Marinette snapped her fingers. “Nino, make sure to add that to her list of illnesses.” 

“Oh my god.” Alya breathed. 

“What?” 

“That right there. I saw it. Her lying in real time. She didn’t even hesitate, just lied to cover her tracks. She’s been doing that the whole time!” 

“That’s what I’ve been saying.” Marinette stated, calmly. 

“I noticed this not too long ago,” continued Nino. “I assumed she was just exaggerating for attention. A storyteller. It was harmless. But yesterday, when she outed Marinette’s crush, lied about the coffee, and then went to tattle at the bakery? That was too much. I realized her lying wasn’t just telling stories. She was really dangerous. Especially in a time with Akumas.” 

Marinette and Adrien both tried not to smile, hiding the joy that that wasn’t a problem anymore. 

“So what’s it going to be, Lila?” Chloe asked, arms crossed. “Are you going to fess up now? Or are you going to go to court with Mr. Agreste and face jail time?”

Lila’s jaw shifted as she gnawed on her tongue. “Can I speak without being interrupted?”

Chloe scoffed. “Only if you aren’t going to lie your way out of this.” 

Lila narrowed her eyes at her, but didn’t reply. Instead, she explained, “some of my stories are exaggerated.” 

Someone snorted.

“I wanted to be the interesting new girl. I didn’t mean any harm in it. I was just telling you all what you wanted to hear. But apparently this was horrible according to Marinette. She threatened me in the bathroom, and said that she was going to expose me as a liar. I told her that that wasn’t going to happen. But she insisted that the truth was more important to her than friendship. I think it was jealousy. Adrien was being friendly, and Alya interviewed me. Suddenly, all her hard work and generosity didn’t matter, because I was more interesting. She kept up warning me, reprimanding me like I was a child, and trying to humiliate me in front of everyone. I knew the only peace I was going to get would be to get her to leave.”

Alya folded her arms. “So you…fabricated evidence to get her expelled?” 

“To be honest, I just wanted to shake her up, get her to realize what she was messing with was dangerous and unfair. I didn’t know Mr. Damocles was going to expel her.” 

“Shake me up? Is that what you were trying to do when you laid on the floor at the bottom of the stairs and pretended I pushed you down?”

“You wouldn’t back off!” 

“I just wanted you to be honest with people! Lying like you were was going to lead to disappointment! I didn’t want you hurting my friends!”

“That’s a fine excuse. But are you sure you weren’t a little bit jealous?”

Marinette groaned. “Jealous? No. Worried? Yes. I didn’t like the way you were hanging off of Adrien—”

“Oh, like the way you’re hanging off him now?”

Marinette prepared to retort, before Adrien wrapped his arms around her, and hugged her tightly. 

“She’s not hanging off of me,” Adrien explained. “She’s the only thing keeping me steady right now.” 

Nino was quick to squeeze his shoulder in reassurance. 

Marinette hugged Adrien tight, and then continued. “I was worried about the way you were hanging around with Adrien. Like I said, the lies you were telling could only lead to disappointment, like it has with Nino. You might think they’re harmless, but when you constantly let someone down, you do a lot of damage.”

Something about that sentence got Adrien right in the gut. It was just like his father. He was trying hard to save his mother, and thought disappointing Adrien wasn’t a big deal in the long run. But instead, he left lasting damage. Self doubt, trust issues, and hopelessness. Marinette was right. 

“Oh, like you don’t lie and bail on everyone all the time anyways? Do you know how many times I had to pick up babysitting for Alya and Nino because you suddenly ‘forgot’ about some other obligation? Or all the times you gave a flimsy excuse to leave a hang out? Alya told me all about it. You’re hiding something big.”

Miss Bustier spoke up. “This conversation is supposed to be solving what happened between Lila and Adrien, whatever Marinette has to do in her free time has nothing to do with it.” 

“I think it does!” Lila argued. “It’s very hypocritical for Marinette to point her finger at me and call me a liar, when she’s doing the same thing!” 

Miss Bustier frowned. “She has been slacking in her representative duties…” 

Marinette gaped at her. “I thought you were on my side!” 

“I’m staying neutral.” Miss Bustier said firmly. “I think it’s important we get our grievances out so we can have a more wholesome learning environment. It’s up to you to answer. You’re not under oath.”

Marinette frowned. True, she could lie. Though it would be a really sucky time to do so. Furthermore, Hawkmoth was gone, so her identity wasn't as crucial to hide. But she really didn’t want Lila to know, especially after that stunt she pulled with Oni-chan. 

“Whatcha thinking about, Marinette?” Asked Lila, “trying to come up with a convincing lie?” 

“I’m trying to weigh the consequences of telling this truth. Because it’s not just my secret. So therefore, it’s not right to share it. I haven’t done anything wrong, so I don’t think I’ll explain myself.” She shrugged.

“Petty.” Lila bit.

“I think it’s fair.” Alya disagreed. “If it’s something that affects others, she shouldn’t have to share.” 

It affected everyone in Paris actually, not just her and Chat Noir. And so Marinette let out a breath of relief.

“Okay,” stated Alix, trying to clarify what had happened. “So, Marinette knew you were lying, so you ‘accidentally’ got her expelled to get her to leave you alone. But what I don’t understand is why you’re bringing up beef with Adrien all of a sudden. We thought you guys were together, and you modeled together…and then he started dating Kagami. What’s the story there?” 

“I’m not dating Kagami.” Adrien clarified. “I considered it, but…I don’t actually have any feelings for her. I just didn’t know how to say no. But as I said, I told my father I didn’t like the way she was touching me. This had been going on for a while…”

“What prompted you to tell your dad?” Alya asked. 

“Well, after what happened yesterday after class, I walked Marinette home. She had almost gotten akumatized, and I wanted to watch over her. Lila had gone to the bakery and told Sabine her side of the story. She was about to bring down the hammer, but I asked her if she trusted Marinette. That…that made me wonder if my father trusted me. If I could go to him with my problems and he would understand. Lila went to him and told him her side of the story as well, and he called me home. But I asked if he trusted me, and then told him I didn’t like Lila and…well, everything else. We continued the conversation when I got home. I’m assuming that since I actually made a stand, he took it seriously.” 

“Wait wait,” Alya spoke. “Lila, you went to tattle at the bakery, and to Gabriel?”

”I thought Gabriel should know about the kind of friends he’s keeping.” 

Adrien laughed. It wasn’t a funny laugh, it was actually very painful, as he remembered a cutting blow from last night. “Lila spied on me for my father. He used her to find out what was going on in class.”

“Ew.” Nino stated. “That’s super skeevy.” 

“Um, I’m a spy? Why don’t you talk to little miss ‘I followed Adrien and Lila and fished a book out of the trash’?”

Heads swiveled back to Marinette. 

“You should be glad I followed you! Adrien got taken out of school for losing that book! He’d be gone for good if I hadn’t rescued it from the trash! You stole it from him and threw it away!” 

The heads swiveled back to Lila. 

“How was I supposed to know it was important?”

Marinette threw her hands up in the air. “It doesn’t matter! It didn’t belong to you! So don’t throw it away!” 

“You know, I’m glad you brought that day up, Lila. Because that was when I knew you had a lying problem.” 

“You knew she was a liar a long time ago?” Asked Nino. 

“Of course. But I didn’t know she was being malicious. Like you, I thought she might just be lying to get attention. In fact, it worked for a little bit. I thought she really was friends with Ladybug. But then Ladybug herself came up to us and blew that lie out of the water.” 

Lila jutted out her jaw, trembling with anger. 

“Ladybug called her out too?” Asked Alya.

“It makes sense,” Adrien continued. “Why would Ladybug be happy about anyone claiming to be a weakness to her? Alya, you were already targeted a lot just as the leader of the Ladyblog. Of course she’d be pissed about a civilian painting a giant target on their back.” 

Alya gasped, “oh my god! I didn’t even think about that when I posted that interview! Lila, you could have been targeted and hurt! Not just by Akuma, but anyone else who wanted to know Ladybug’s identity!” 

“Well, nothing happened.” Lila shrugged. “Ladybug and Chat Noir would protect me no matter what, anyways!” 

“Yes, like how Chat Noir saved you from Kagami when you ‘twisted your ankle’?” He put in quotes. 

Lila gaped. “How did you know about that?” 

Marinette was wondering the same thing. 

“Chat Noir helped me sneak a bag out of my room last night. Then we talked.” 

“Oh, so now you’re friends with Chat Noir?” Kim scoffed. 

“Not particularly. He helped me out a whole lot last night, but I haven’t spoken to him much before that.” 

“Ugh, you keep mentioning last night like it was the biggest thing that’s ever happened, and yet you refuse to talk about it! Now Chat Noir was there? What else?” 

“Adrien has already stated that whatever happened between him and his father is private and that they don’t want to talk about it.” Miss Bustier reminded, patiently. “If it has nothing to do with Lila, then I don’t think he needs to bring it up.” 

“But isn’t omitting the truth still lying?” Asked Lila. “Both Marinette and Adrien are being dishonest and hiding things, and I find it extremely unfair to be accused of lying if they aren’t telling the truth!” 

“And I think if whatever they’re hiding has nothing to do with you, Lila, it doesn’t need to be brought up.” Said Alya, crossing her arms. 

“Alya! You don’t believe me? What about standing with your fellow woman?” 

Alya frowned. “Okay, Adrien’s been my friend longer than you, and I find it hard to believe he’d do anything wrong. And second, I’m supposed to believe you because we’re both girls?” 

Kim shot to his feet, “As I said previously, men can’t be molested! Especially models! I think you’re just being a coward, Agreste!” 

Adrien hunched his shoulders. 

Seeing the opportunity for a teaching moment, Alix reached over and grabbed Kim’s butt, making him yelp and shuffle away. 

“What the hell was that?!” 

“What? Didn’t like it?” Alix asked with a coy smile. 

“Uh, no? Not from you.”

“Because you aren’t attracted to me?” 

“I mean, yeah?” 

“Now imagine if I was Lila and you’re Adrien.” 

It was like a lightbulb went off above Kim’s head. “Oh.” He turned to look at Adrien. “I get it. I’m so sorry.” 

“While I don’t agree with the method,” Miss Bustier explained, “I’m glad you see what the problem is, Kim. No one should be touched without their permission, no matter how ‘attractive’ the perpetrator is.” 

“Attractiveness is a sliding scale anyways.” Added Alya, “just because some people find Lila and Adrien attractive, doesn’t mean everyone does. And Adrien already mentioned he’s not attracted to Lila.” 

“Yeah, I guess…I just don’t see it. Lila is really pretty!” 

Adrien just shrugged. “She’s just not my type.” He looked to the teacher. “Miss Bustier, I think we’re kind of going around in circles at this point. Can we wrap this up?” 

“Sure. Does anyone have anything else they want to add or need clarification on?”

Everyone shook their heads. 

“Good. I’m sorry to air out dirty laundry, but I really wanted to avoid gossip. Right now, this classroom is your world. When you grow up, scandals and mistakes will be made by all sorts of people. I want to teach you now to do your research and not just blindly follow whatever source you find first. Alright?”

“But we didn’t solve anything.” Rose lamented. 

“Our goal was not to find out who did what to who. It was to bring both sides of the story forward, and allow everyone to consider who they are going to believe versus who they won’t. It’s up to you to decide if you are loyal even when faced with deception. And if you can be open-minded enough to listen to others.”

The room was silent as she let them all milk over that thought. 

“Then let’s get into today’s social studies lesson. I think there’s some practical crossovers between what just happened.”

#miraculous ladybug #ml #fanfiction #integrity #adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng #adrienette #lila rossi is exposed

[knightofthecourt]

Love Bites - Chapter 1

Belatrice Gray was a TA at Belgrave University, working hard to stay on top of her marking and trying not to flunk her own studies, when a night out with her bff Randall and his roommates, changed everything.  

Hamish Duke x OC fiction with fluff, romance and angst. OC description purposefully left out to allow for reader personalisation.

“I call this one a Wolf Bite.” Hamish set the tall glasses down in front of Randall and Bela, smiling as they both took a sip, and then another immediately. 

“Haim, this is amazing.” Bela said as Randall nodded in agreement. Her lips quirked up in delight, causing a rush of warmth to radiate throughout Hamish’s chest.  

He seated himself across from her, trying to ignore the sudden fluttering in his stomach. 

Belatrice Gray - Bela, to her friends - had transferred to Belgrave’s Linguistics department from a college on the West Coast at the start of the year. After Randall was assigned as her tour guide during orientation they’d become fast friends and now the RA spent almost as much time with her as he did with Hamish, Lilith and Jack. 

Though Hamish was usually reluctant to let the others bring friends back to the Den, when Randall finally introduced them to Bela he’d instantly made an exception for her. Not only was she sweet, funny and smarter than anyone else he’d met at Belgrave, she was also fair with the students under her guidance as a TA, and a loyal and caring friend to Randall - qualities that Hamish admired greatly. 

As Bela became a semi-regular fixture at their nights out, nights in and revision sessions, Hamish had found himself making an effort to be around whenever Bela was present. 

They’d spent many afternoons this semester studying in the Den’s comfy living room and as finals drew closer, Randall regularly recruited Bela for last minute cramming sessions. This afternoon it was Advanced Anatomy, with a side of Diagnostic Reasoning.  

The dark haired man sighed and flopped down next to Bela on the shabby-but-comfortable sofa. She shifted as he jostled the cushions, almost knocking her book out of her hands. 

From his armchair Hamish could see Bela reach over and run her hand up and down Randall’s arm in a soothing gesture. “You’ll get there.” She said, still focused on her work. “You know this stuff already, you’re just tired.”  

Randall scoffed. “That’s easy for you to say. I can’t believe you dropped out of Pre Med - your grasp of the human body is truly astounding.” 

“Yeah, my mother can’t either,” Bela joked. 

“Another thing you and the Ham-ster have in common.” 

Hamish winced at the nickname, but let it go. Randall was tired, after all. 

Bela frowned, “A good grasp of the human body?” 

Randall, who had taken this moment to have a sip of his drink, choked on his mouthful.  

Hamish reached over to pat his friend on the back. “Disappointing our parents.” he bowed his head slightly, “I was Pre Law.”

“Really? “ Bela said, raising an eyebrow. “When I imagine you in a courtroom, I put you in handcuffs.”

“Is that something you imagine regularly?” Hamish flashed her a smile. She laughed. 

“Jesus,” Randall muttered under his breath, just loud enough for Hamish’s enhanced hearing to pick up. “If I don’t choke to death on my drink, the sexual tension in this room is going to smother me.” 

He leapt up from his chair, narrowly avoiding the pillow that sailed past his head. “Anyone want a snack? I need popcorn.”  

As he headed to the kitchen Hamish turned his attention to Bela. She was chewing on the end of a pen, lost in the pages of her textbook. His breath hitched as the afternoon light filtering in through the windows caught the edges of her hair, lighting a halo around her. 

“Bels?” 

“Mmhm?” 

“Randall mentioned you’re swamped with work at the moment?” 

“Oh?” Bela made a face. “Yeah, Professor Liebernacht dumped all of his marking on me again - big surprise. I have to grade ninety Syntactic Theory papers by the end of the week.” 

“How about we mark papers together tonight?” Hamish tried to keep his voice light and even to disguise the hammering in his chest. “I have practise tests to get through, it’s going to take hours. Maybe we could get a take-out, keep each other company?” 

“Oh.” She looked up from her book. “Yeah, that would be great actually. As long as you make me one of your signature cocktails too?” 

A smile lit up his face. “I can make you as many cocktails as you like, I think we probably both need a drink this far into finals season.”  

“Great idea Ham-and-cheese!” Randall said, returning with a large bowl clutched to his chest. “Hey Lil,” He yelled up the stairs, “Big night out tonight with Hamish and Bela, let’s blow off some steam.” 

“What? No, that’s not what I-” Hamish began in protest. 

“I’m in.” Lilith appeared in the hallway. “But I get to choose the bar this time, the last one Bela chose was lame.” 

“Hey,” Bela objected. 

“Cool, I’ll tell Jack and Alyssa.” Randall sat down, setting the popcorn on the coffee table in front of him, and pulled out his phone. “Meet here at 8pm?” 

Bela looked from Randall to Hamish, who was glaring daggers at his friend. She shrugged. 

“Great!” Randall’s phone buzzed. “They’re in. Thanks, Haim. We could all do with a break tonight - your papers can wait until tomorrow, can’t they?” 

Hamish bit back his disappointment. “I guess they’ll have to.”

- - - - -

“Dude, you have to stop.” 

Randall placed a hand firmly over Hamish’s, stilling the older man’s fingers. He’d been drumming his nails on their table for the past ten minutes and even with the music in the club drowning out the sound, it was extremely irritating. 

“What’s up with you tonight?” 

“Nothing.” Hamish lied, freeing his hand from Randall’s grasp.  

Randall’s suspicion grew as he followed Hamish’s gaze to the bar where Jack, Bela and Alyssa were ordering a round of shots. 

“Fine.” Hamish groaned, when he noticed Randall surveying Bela. “It’s just weird. I asked Bela on a date and now we’re all hanging out together.” 

Randall’s eyes almost popped out of his head. “What?! You finally asked her out? When the hell did that happen?” 

“This afternoon. I asked her to hang out tonight.” 

“But did you really?” Lillith smirked over the top of her glass. “I’m not sure she realised you were actually asking her out.” 

“When did this happen?” Randall frowned “And how come you know about it when I don’t Lil?”

“Duh. I’m a werewolf.” She shrugged. “I can hear everything in that house.”  

“You were there, Randall.” said Hamish, glancing over at Bela who, thankfully was still out of earshot.

“Oh.” Randall’s eyes widened. “That was a date? Hamish, I totally blocked you!” 

“He blocked himself.” Lillith shook her head. “In what world is asking someone to mark papers with you a date?”

“I know.” Hamish rubbed his neck. “I thought it might be a good jumping off point? Actually spending some time alone together.”

A smile worked its way across Randall’s face. “Well if it’s alone time you want, you only had to ask!” 

“Randall, don’t” Hamish hissed. 

“Don’t what?” Jack asked, placing a tray of shots down in front of his friends. Bela slipped into the booth next to Hamish, brushing his thigh with hers as she slid across to make space for Alyssa and Jack.  

Randall grabbed a shot and threw it back. “Jack, Alyssa - Lillith was just telling me how much she wanted to dance.” He said, barely pausing to take breath.   

“No I - Ow.” Lillith bared her teeth at Randall. She jerked her leg out of his reach, massaging the sore spot on her left shin. “Yeah,” she agreed, “I totally want to dance. On the dance floor. With people. Hamish you stay here and look after our shit.” 

She grabbed Jack’s arm and yanked him from the booth before he could pick up his drink. Randall followed her, gesturing for Alyssa to join them. 

Bela and Hamish sat in stilted silence for a moment before Hamish cleared his throat. “You can go and dance if you want to, I don’t mind looking after everything.” 

“Actually, I’m good here.” Bela said.

Hamish’s cheeks glowed as he returned her easy smile.  

Bela was enjoying spending time with Randall and his friends but she couldn’t deny that she’d rather be grading papers with Hamish tonight. At first Randall has requested that they hang out at the Den as it was quieter than the dorms and closer to the campus than her apartment, but recently it had been at Bela’s insistence that they’d studied there. Bela hadn’t been sure if Randall realised it was because she wanted an excuse to spend time with Hamish, but his not so subtle attempt at leaving them alone to go ‘dancing’, had pretty much just confirmed that he knew about her crush. 

Bela cringed. Hopefully Hamish didn’t realise that their friend was playing matchmaker, that would just be too embarrassing.

“Bels?” Hamish was staring at her in confusion. Bela realised he’d been talking to her this whole time. 

“Sorry,” she stuttered, “what were you saying?”  

As he leaned forward in his chair the club’s strobe lights cast his face in shadow, picking out the contours of his high cheekbones and strong jaw. Bela’s gaze followed the line up from his neck, to his full lips and then up to his eyes, which were trained on her. 

“I was asking if you wanted to hang out tomorrow instead. I know I said grading papers but we could do something else if you want? There’s a new sci-fi film on at the student lounge or we could go out to eat.” He tipped his head towards the dance floor. “Lillith informed me that grading papers isn’t really a date activity.” 

Bela felt a well of happiness bubble up. So Hamish was actually asking her out? She hadn’t been sure before.

“She’s wrong,” Bela shook her head. “Anything can be a date if you’re with the right person.” As a smile flooded Hamish’s face her lips turned up to mirror his.

“You know you haven’t said yes, yet.”

Bela paused, as if considering his proposal. “Actually, I’m hungry now. Do you want to get some-”

“Yes,” Hamish interrupted before she finished. He beamed at her. “Let’s go, I’ll tell the others we’re leaving.”

“Great,” said Bela, “I’m just going to grab my coat. I’ll meet you outside.”   

As they made their way across the club neither of them noticed the figure watching them from the other side of the room. 

- - - - -

If you ignored the distant bass leaking from the building’s windows it could almost be considered peaceful out here, Bela thought. She inhaled the fresh, cool air, enjoying how it chased away the faint buzz in her temples, and leaned against a wall, scrolling through her phone as she waited for Hamish.  

“Hey,” a voice broke through the night. “You’re Bela, right?” 

Bela turned to find a young man next to her. He was wearing a Belgrave t-shirt under a fitted plaid shirt, and his dirty blonde hair was cropped in a trendy cut. Despite looking like every other rich, entitled frat boy on Bela’s course, as he grinned up at her his face was pleasant. 

“Uh, yeah,” Bela frowned in confusion. He looked vaguely familiar. “Do I know you?” 

“Tanner Jeffries - I’m new to the Linguistics department.” He held out a hand, shaking hers firmly when she placed her palm in his. 

He chuckled lightly, making his cheeks dimple. “I know what you’re thinking -  why oh, why would anyone join Linguistics? Well, I’m a glutton for punishment. I just couldn’t resist meeting the notorious Professor Liebernacht.” 

“He’s the worst,” Bela confirmed, with a small laugh “I’ll be surprised if we have any students left after this year.”

“Yeah, you should see his reviews on Rate My Prof.”

“I know,” Bela couldn’t help but return his smile. “Half of those are from his TAs.” 

Tanner chuckled again. He reached up to rub the side of his neck and shot her an apologetic look. “Hey, I know this is a bit weird but my car’s not starting. I was going to ask for a flashlight in the club so I can check out the engine but… could I borrow the light on your phone. It’ll just take a minute.” 

“Uh-” Bela hesitated. She threw a brief glance over her shoulder at the club’s entrance. “Yep, sure. No problem.”  

The parking lot beside the club was eerily vacant, considering how many people were packed into the heaving room. As they walked towards the only car there, a blue four wheel drive in the corner of the lot, Tanner dropped behind her, digging around his pockets for his keys.

Bela turned to the car, “Ok, where’s the latch-” 

As Tanner’s hand clamped over her face she let out a startled shriek.

Bela’s thoughts filled with panic. She acted on instinct, struggling against his hold as Tanner’s other arm twisted around her waist, almost lifting her off the floor. Her fingers scrambled to find purchase, finally catching around his shirt, which she pulled sharply, trying to throw him off balance.  

He grunted with effort, blocking her mouth to stifle her screams. “You don’t need to make this - urgh -  any harder. Dormitum Dimittatur.” 

Bela slumped in his arms. 

- - - - -

As Hamish predicted, Randall was incredibly happy that he was taking Bela out to eat. He’d thrown his arms around Hamish’s neck and tipsily mumbled about how his best friends were falling in love for almost ten minutes, until Lillith had taken pity on the older man and peeled Randall off him, promising they’d all meet back at the Den in a few hours.  

Hamish hurried out of the club, keen to find Bela and start their date, but she was nowhere to be found.

He frowned. It wasn’t like Bela to just up and leave without telling them. Even if she’d changed her mind about going out with him she would have just said - wouldn’t she? 

After pacing in front of the club for a few moments he managed to pick up the faint scent of her perfume on the cold night breeze - sometimes being a werewolf was really useful. He followed the trail around the side of the building, frowning again when he reached the parking lot.  

This doesn’t make sense, he thought, an uneasy feeling settling in his stomach. They’d walked to the club and none of them were in a state to drive anywhere tonight. Maybe the alcohol was throwing off his game. He pulled out his phone and dialed Bela’s number, silently thanking Tundra as his enhanced hearing picked up the sound of vibration. 

As Hamish followed it to the edge of the lot, his breathing quickened and the unease grew into dread. 

“Oh no,” he whispered, kneeling beside the glowing object. 

It was Bela’s phone, lying face up in the gravel.

#the order #hamish duke #hamish duke x reader #hamish duke x oc #randall carpio #lillith bathory #the knights of saint christopher #werewolves #love bites