#paying for crimes she didn't commit

[duartegazzola]

would you kick her for one dollar?

[tossawary]

At the end of "Fullmetal Alchemist", Ed Elric quits the military, has given up his ability to "play god", and is (as he has been since he burned his fucking house down as a tweenager) homeless, disabled, and crashing at the Rockbell place to help his very sick brother recover.

And it's easy and funny to imagine Edward Elric essentially becoming the house husband of successful and innovative automail mechanic Winry Rockbell (and later a stay-at-home dad). Small family businesses are pretty much always a mess of needing an extra hand just to answer phones and the mail, to schedule appointments, to deliver and pick up parts, to organize stock, to "just hold this for a second for me", and so on. Pinako is not getting any younger and could use someone to cook dinner and fix the roof while she rests her back!!! Winry is busy!!!

There is also always a lot to do in a rural community, so I'm sure that Ed would find another hobby in the absence of alchemy and could turn it into a gig if necessary, if he really doesn't like automail. He has a lot of skills that he could potentially turn towards an income. I've also generally assumed that Ed made a pretty decent amount of money as a State Alchemist and still has some generous savings on that front.

But I was also thinking that it would be kind of funny if being a State Alchemist came with incredible retirement benefits. Like, the military wants to lure people in with wealth and power and resources - and then make alchemists desperate enough to keep these things that they become walking weapons of war, commit horrible crimes against humanity in the name of "research", and/or resort to human transmutation and become viable sacrifices. Ed never had to worry about getting kicked out (and presumably losing his benefits) because he was a perfect human sacrifice from the get-go (although he didn't know this). I'm guessing a lot of State Alchemists were never actually able to retire between dying in wars, failing out of the program (the brass finding excuses to save money! Bosses are always cheap!), getting arrested for speaking out or actually getting caught publicly doing bad shit, and being murdered for their crimes against humanity.

But, in theory, maybe the State Alchemist retirement benefits were absolutely incredible if you could somehow survive long enough or get permission for an early, "honorable" retirement, because King Bradley (who let's say set up this financial bait) somewhat reasonably assumed that Father would completely destroy the country before he'd ever have to pay out a pension. Which means that Ed could be out of the military for years and somehow still costing Roy Mustang a lot of money.

[nyrasproblm]

And would you go ahead and just cry? 2/3

Jinx x fem!reader | Caitlyn x sister!reader

Summary: A conversation with your sister after Cassandra's death.

Word Count: 0,7K

Warnings: mention of character death, mention of PTSD attacks, mention of murder.

note: this chapter focuses on the reader's relationship with Caitlyn, so I apologize for not having any interactions with Jinx in it. But Vi does appear!!

ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE.

< previous chapter next chapter >

You weren't surprised. You already knew she was going to do this, but not to this extent. It's not like you didn't understand her, Cassandra was your mother too, you were also grieving, your heart was hurting too.

But all of Zaun should not have to pay for the actions of just one person.

Walking quickly through the halls of the silent mansion, you could feel the anger emanating from you. Your steps stopped in front of the large door to Caitlyn's chambers, where you knocked and didn't wait for an answer to enter. The tall figure of your older sister stood in the center of the room, staring intently at the old map she left on the floor, and Vi's pink hair could be seen behind her, sitting on the bed.

You opened your mouth to question Caitlyn, but she spoke first: "You should measure your actions, like wait for me to answer before barging into my room. I'm sure you don't want to irritate me even more."

"Ah, don't start. I already know you know." you scoffed. "I'm surprised Commander Kiramman hasn't sent me to Stillwater yet."

"You have no consideration at all, do you? Or a brain?" she turned to you, the long blue cape shifting behind her. "How could you?"

"How could I what? Have a Zaunite friend? You have one there too." you nodded to Vi, who raised an eyebrow at you.

"Is it really that little to you?" Caitlyn sighed, her voice sounding weaker. "Don't you have any respect for Mom's memory?"

"I'm grieving too, Caitlyn. For God's sake." you sighed loudly. "But I can't let it take over me, or I won't be able to think straight."

"You don't seem like you're thinking straight." she raised her voice. "Mom dies and you're going to take comfort in her killer?"

"She didn't mean to do that! She was having an attack. You said you've seen it before." you exclaimed. "And I didn't come here to talk about her. The engineers told me that you want to shut down the ventilation system there."

"This is official business, it's about the search and capture of a criminal," she replied. "You shouldn't question me, I know what I'm doing."

"Have you lost your mind?! You can't do this, do you want to end everything?" you almost screamed. "How can you say I don't care about Mom's memory if you're the one trying to destroy it?"

"No one will get hurt. My team was only ordered to capture Jinx and nothing more." she said almost automatically.

"Caitlyn, our mom thought about the quality of life of those people when she had that ventilation system created. And I felt honored when she asked me to improve her creation." you murmured. "The Grey is toxic, you can't say no one will get hurt. You'll have protective masks, the people down there have nothing."

"You shouldn't even be here, you should be thankful I didn't have you arrested for siding with and not cooperating with the search for Mom's killer." she growled.

"What are you talking about now?" you fumed.

"Were you the one who gave her that hextech gem?" she frowned even more angrily.

"Of course not! Why would I do that?" you put your hands on your hips.

"If you stayed with her after she killed our mother, I don't doubt what you would do for her before that." She lowered her voice.

You laughed in derision, shaking your head, "You gave your girlfriend who just got out of jail an enforcer position, is that any different?"

Vi got up from the bed when she was mentioned. "I was wrongly arrested, I didn't commit any crime."

"Oh, shut up, you too." you rolled your eyes, irritated. "Aren't you ashamed of wearing that uniform? Your sister is alone and scared and here you are playing police officer."

"You don't know anything about me, and I doubt you know anything about Jinx either." she walked over to you and Caitlyn. "What do you think you are? A vigilante? Doing good deeds for the poor? You don't know anything about being in need. You've been up here your whole life."

"But I know very well what decency and loyalty are. Standing firm for what you believe in." you replied. "And I see that is not your case."

Vi's face twisted into an angry expression and she threatened to advance towards you, but was stopped by Caitlyn, who turned back to you: "That's enough. Our operation is going to happen, whether you like it or not. I suggest you stay away from Zaun, I'll leave enforcers to... look after you. Be thankful you're not trapped."

You huffed and turned to leave the room.

[sphireath-wisp]

#Anything for my Favorite Lady

Sypnosis: Stupidly rich guys always spoil you, giving you everything you want and more <3

Warnings: The title is just a lyric from a song and the reader is still gender neutral, not proofread

Featuring: REO MIKAGE!!, Sae Itoshi, Micheal Kaiser x GN! reader

Reo Mikage

One glance was all Reo needed to tell that you wanted the matching necklaces on display. Just moments ago, you and Reo planned to buy something small to eat before leaving the mall. Now, was dragging you by the wrist inside the jewelry store, fingers intertwined with yours.

By the time you register it, he's already speaking to the lady at the counter. His lips are curled into a charming smile as he glances back at you, "Do you want the silver or gold ones?"

"Reo, you really don't need to." Your eyebrows furrowed, watching as the lady returned back with both variations for the both of you to try. She gently opens the box and your eyes sparkle at the sight of it, all the more reason to buy it in Reo's books.

Reo gently pinches the chain of the necklace between his index and thumb fingers, holding it up against your neck as he puts it on for you without you needing to ask. He even brushes your hair away, voice soft when he asks if it's too tight on you - god, what a gentleman.

His fingers linger for a little while, tracing your skin and jaw. His gaze softens, eyes glued to you in a way that almost makes you melt. "...It looks stunning on you, babe." You've left him speechless.

After a small moment of silence, Reo pulls out his wallet. He turns his head to the lady, looking at you still as if he couldn't take his eyes off of you. The voice of the lady snaps him back to reality the moment she asks which variation the both of you decided on.

"We'll take both." He receives a nudge and a shocked gasp from you. "That's too much, Reo."

Reo's already paying. His credit card and love has no limit when it comes to you.

You bite your lip as you conjure up a few retorts in your head, anything to stop him from spending so much on you even though you knew he wouldn't budge a single centimeter. You relax and a defeated sigh is the aftermath of you giving in.

He holds the bag and thanks the lady, leaving with you by his side, content with his purchase. On the other hand, you seem to feel... quite the opposite. Lowering your voice into a whisper, the words that were originally stuck in your throat find their way out. "You don't have to spend so much on me, Reo."

"Hm? Why shouldn't I?" Reo inquires as if he isn't well aware of the answer, head tilting to the side oh-so-innocently. "What else would I do with all of my money?"

"You could... pshhh, I don't know, invest? All I'm saying is that you really don't need to waste so much money on me." At first, you wanted to say 'save your money', but he already had more than enough.

"But, babe," He gives you the most dreamy-eyed look and, oh lord, you were already being swayed by that cheeky grin. "You're my best investment. You're gonna marry me, so I need to spend a little more to make you mine, right?"

In vain, you try to hold back the smile creeping up on your face. "You're so cheesy."

Sae Itoshi

"What do you mean you didn't use my card?" You watch Sae's eyes narrow at you as if he was offended, as if you had committed some kind of heinous, unforgivable crime against him. 'How dare you not use my card?' was the message you were receiving from that disappointed look he was giving you, despite not uttering a single word.

You scratch the back of your neck, chuckling awkwardly. "It's just a small snack for us to share. I rarely get to buy these, so I wanted to treat the both of us." You glance down at the bag, inside is a box nicely tied together with a bow. You felt a little guilty for spending so much on just a dessert, but it's fine!

Unluckily for you, Sae could see right through you and that pang of guilt you felt so deeply. Though, before getting to the mushy, sappy comforting (he was avoiding it), Sae was determined to discover why you avoided using his card.

"You have my card in your wallet, don't you? The black one?" You nod in response, but it only leads to further pestering. "I gave that card to you for a reason, why aren't you using it?"

That scowl on his face only highlights how serious he is about this. He only knows how to use that colorful vocabulary of his to be frank and straightforward, even harsh. Thus, Sae resorted to actions instead of words, gifts instead of compliments. He'd rather go back and play in Japan than let you feel guilty about spending such an insignificant amount of money.

You felt like you were being chided, like a kid who was being reprimanded by their doting parent. "It wasn't super expensive. Plus, we can share it, just the two of us." Maybe coaxing him with sweets will work?

"I asked you why aren't you using my card." So blunt.

"You told me to use it however I please." Fire against fire.

"I told you to use it. You clearly aren't."

"It's for..." Ah, shit, he had a valid point. From the time he gave it to you to now, you haven't even pulled it out of your wallet once. "...emergency purposes! When I really, really need it."

Sae's eyebrows furrow. He frowns, but in a way that tells you he isn't angry, just upset. Is there something stopping you from using it? Do you feel like you'll owe him something if you decide to use it?

"Please, (Name)." You feel his nimble fingers tuck your hair behind your ear, his gentle touch leaving you stunned for a slight second. "Don't feel guilty about spending my money. It's meant for you to indulge."

You notice his teal eyes glance around first before linking your lips with his. A sweet kiss, more filling than any expensive dessert, is shared between you two for just a moment, but he got you right where wanted you in a matter of seconds. You were convinced.

The kiss ends on an unfinished note. Before you can register it, he holds the bag and "coincidentally" slips his hand into yours. "Clear?" Sae asks, ensuring that you got the message.

"Yessir," A slight hint of pink finds itself on your cheeks and spreads to the tip of your ears.

Sae was more than happy to notice a few charges on his bank account after that.

Michael Kaiser

"Oh? So this is what you want?" Kaiser peeks over your shoulder, the intoxicating scent of his cologne entering your nose and alerting you of his presence.

"Yeah... too expensive?" You sarcastically ask and add in a sigh for dramatic effect, even though you knew damn well the amount of money in his bank account rivals his ego. Chuckling faintly, you watch him examine the intricate bottle of perfume. He replies oh-so-nonchalantly without checking the price, "Not at all. It's my treat."

Usually, you wouldn't let him spoil you to this extent. However, it was your birthday... and the idea of wringing him dry out of money was too appealing to pass on.

Or so you planned.

Recently, the both of you had been strolling around high-end stores - luxury stores you had gotten used to buying from thanks to Kaiser - and skimming through what they had on display. You tried to test the waters, picking up something that cost what you thought was an ungodly amount of money in front of you.

Instead of gasping or at least seeming hesitant, that doubtful look you were hoping for was nowhere in sight. In fact, he seemed unbothered by the price. You're at a loss for words when you hear him mumble under his breath, "That's it?" Your plan was backfiring, all thanks to some rich, pretentious, arrogant, white guy whom you loved dearly.

Whatever, it could be some tough guy act, right? Plus, you'd been eyeing this perfume for a few weeks now. It's your birthday, so why not indulge a little?

"But..." Kaiser's usual charismatic smirk falters and your eyes light up. Is this a sign? "Meine Liebe, can I get you something else?"

"Huh? Why not? You said it wasn't that expensive." You pouted, just to seem a little more convincing. His usual teasing smile returns, an arm wrapping around your waist as he sets the perfume back on the table. "Secret," Kaiser responds after a moment of silence.

"Alright then," You were satisfied with that. If he really couldn't afford it, you wouldn't push it any further. If that was his way of saving face, you could understand. "It's too cheap anyways, let's pull it up a notch." You blink when he says that, "Huh?"

But of course, nothing goes as expected when Kaiser's around.

Right after that visit, you were dragged by Kaiser to a buffet, that happy-go-lucky grin on his face as he proceeded to burn off the money in his wallet on you. He pampered you with not only his gifts but his attention. Kaiser was never reserved when it came to PDA, but it felt as if he was practically smothering you with kisses today.

Finally, when you're in his car, about to drive home, you notice a peculiar box on the passenger seat - your seat.

"Is this my birthday gift?" You unconsciously smile, getting comfortable in the passenger seat as you wait for Kaiser's signal to open it. He nods and you slowly lift the lid of the box, bated breath as you unveil... a bottle of perfume?

"This is... the same perfume from this afternoon."

"I noticed you eyeing it for a while now, so I bought it in advance a few days ago. It'd be awkward if I bought you the perfume earlier in the afternoon and then gave you this as a birthday gift." It all adds up. You're left speechless as you cradle the perfume in your hands.

"Happy birthday, Meine Liebe." He notices you pursing your lips before giggling. "Thanks, babe. This is the best gift ever."

[actiniumwrites]

knots

synopsis: lyney has been head over heels in love with you since the two of you were only ten years old. the only problem? you're friends with lynette and not him. so he spends the next 8-9 years pining over you with seemingly unrequited feelings

characters: lyney x gn!reader

wc: 2.1k

warnings: angst to fluff, misunderstandings, happy ending, best friend's brother trope, an insane amount of obliviousness and pining, idiots to lovers pretty much, the ending is kinda rushed

disclaimer: i know character ages in genshin are a rather controversial topic of discourse within the community. i personally think of lyney and lynette to be around 18-19 years old and i do mention age in this fic as it follows a bit of a timeline. if this somehow bothers you, please just don't read or try to start an argument over it in my comments

notes: THIS IS SO CUTE IM SOBBING 🤧 i did throw in a lot of angst though i'm so sorry but i saw the opportunity and took it. the end is fluffy (and kind of rushed sorry) though‼️ the title is also inspired by lacy by olivia rodrigo as i think it's very fitting for this fic. thank you for the request! (this is my third time posting this cause the first time it didn't show up in the tags)

Lyney was jealous as a kid. It was hard not for him to be when him and Lynette were first introduced to you and you had barely even acknowledged him. He was only ten at the time, but he was so excited to make new friends outside of the House of the Hearth that he was stunned when you had only really talked to Lynette. You had only ever offered him a small wave and a smile to go along with it before running off with Lynette.

It wasn’t fair in his eyes. He was the one more interested in you anyway, not her. She had merely tagged along because he forced her too. Now here she was stealing his potential friends.

You’d clicked instantly with her. Both of you were more on the quiet and shy side, contrasting Lyney’s sunny and outgoing personality. You both liked the same foods, the same clothing, the same everything. Lyney wanted to share those with you too, but it was hard when his tastes differed from yours and you didn’t seem to pay much interest in him anyway.

And growing up, he’d always been around. You’d hang out with all of them, don’t get it twisted. It wasn’t like you’d ever told him he couldn’t spend time with you guys. In fact, you often spent a lot of time together. You were sweet. You loved helping them with their magic tricks, even though they normally failed since you were all thirteen by the time they really began taking it seriously. You’d pretend to be shocked when they guessed your card, despite knowing exactly how the trick worked. You’d be on standby when they performed more dangerous tricks. Hell, you were even an assistant for them nearly eighty-percent of the time.

Lyney was grateful for it all, but he still couldn’t shake the ever growing crush on you he’d developed three years ago when you first met. He wanted you to be closer with him more than his sister. It was selfish, he was well aware of that, but he was the one with a crush. Not Lynette.

Lyney was the one to pick you up and put a bandaid on your knees when you fell at the playground. Lyney was the one to always share his snacks with you, even when you usually said no. Lyney was the one to always sit next to you when you were feeling a little down and let his knee rest quietly against yours, hoping you wouldn’t pull yours away. Lyney was the one who was in love with you by the time you all turned 18.

When the fateful performance happened and they were revealed to be Fatui to the general public, he was sure you’d leave them for good. You had obviously known they were Fatui, but you didn’t know of the extent to which they acted, the crimes they had committed. In your eyes, they were only in training, because that was all they had told you. As close as you were to them, they could never let you know the full details. It was against the rules.

Lyney was so sure you’d up and leave that it was the second time he had ever truly felt anxiety in his life — his sister being taken was the first, but here you were making him feel that horrible pounding in his chest all over again. He was so sure that the ache in his chest would have to make room for more than just jealousy, but grief among heartbreak. That you’d look at them in fear and never speak to them ever again. That he’d never get to profess his love to you.

You proved him wrong, and rather unexpectedly so. You’d shown up to every second of their trial and helped the traveler out as best you could to exonerate them. You’d stuck by their side through it all and made sure they were alright. He was so surprised you almost made him cry.

When they were freed from it all and the crisis was solved, you’d only hugged Lynette and Freminet. That was the part that stung the most. But at this age, Lyney was too nervous around you. How could he not be? You were so pretty and sweet and kind that he didn’t know what to do, especially when he was confused as to where he stood with you. You were all of those things and more with everyone. Everyone but him.

So he pulls away.

He doesn’t want to. God, he’s so in love with you he doesn’t want to ever spend a second away from you, but you never reciprocate any of it. So perhaps, he decides one day, it’d be best to just move on and focus on other things. Lynette could have you to herself and he’d find someone else, no matter how much he wanted you the most.

And you hate it, because well, you’re confused. Which sounds unfair, and in some ways it is, but Lyney was a special light in your life that you couldn’t get too close to. Not because you didn’t want to. No. Of course not. He didn’t realize that you were too scared to. You were so different that you shied away from him, despite feeling all the same toward him. He was like the sun and if you got too close to him, you were scared he’d burn you.

Lynette pushed you toward him regularly. You never seemed to escape her late night gossip sessions where she told you all about how her brother was practically drooling over how good you looked or how sweet you were. You found it endearing while she found it disgusting. Despite it all, though, you had confided in her about your crush on him as well, but how terrified you were to try to actually approach him. She almost slapped you right then and there.

Lynette thinks you’re both stupid. And she’s right. Because now you’re both stuck in a huge misunderstanding. Lyney thinks you hate him and you think he hates you. Could anyone really blame her for being so annoyed?

“You need to talk to him,” she finally breaks one day, about to pass out in her chair from her social energy running out just from hearing about the entire situation nonstop for the past week. You stare at her mortified as she gives you an unimpressed stare.

You nearly choke on the drink you were sipping on just a moment ago, catching a few passerby’s attention as you do, “Why do I have to be the one to say something?! He’s the one that started avoiding me!”

“Are you dense?”

“No?”

She stares at you for a long minute and sighs.

“You’re both idiots. He likes you. You like him. You were too shy to say anything and now he’s decided to move on,” she explains, unimpressed. Did you really not see it after all these years?

“Move on? What?” you place your hands on the table in front of you, panic swimming in your eyes. It all hits you so fast you feel your heart practically about to burst out of your chest.

“I have to go, sorry!” you jump out of your chair, yelling a string of apologies from behind you as you run from the cafe.

It takes you an hour to find him after your conversation with Lynette ends abruptly. Freminet was nice enough to let you know Lyney had gone down to the outskirts of the main city to work on some magic tools by the beach. It was just an excuse to get away. All three of you knew it, but Lyney wasn’t the type to say how he truly feels in fear of being a bad leader.

You wished he had said something sooner. Though perhaps you should’ve been the one to take notice long ago that his advances were more than just friendly.

You suddenly feel regret build up in your stomach at the way you treated him all these years. You were so afraid of your feelings you sabotaged yourself in the process and unknowingly hurt him too.

You find him sitting in the sand, legs crossed as he quietly fiddles with a few parts for some magic props.

“Mind if I sit?” you practically whisper from beside him. Lyney doesn’t even look at you. It’s cold and and unlike him and must be exactly how you looked all these years. He nods anyway.

You watch the waves crash in front of you. Over and over again as they grow closer with the deepening hours of the night. The stars reflect gently upon each and every one of them yet you can’t get yourself to focus on them.

You fidget with a small flower in your hands. It was tucked away gently in your pocket, the petals sticking out to prevent it from getting crushed. It’s a vibrant pink and even with its petals closed for the night, it still looks beautiful in your hand. It reminds you of all the times Lyney had dropped the very same ones at your doorstep or somehow tucked away on a piece of your clothing without you noticing. You hadn’t bothered to look into the meaning back then. You never knew rainbow roses were a declaration of love.

Lyney still sits quietly next to you, now messing with the hat he had taken off when you arrived. His lavender eyes avoid yours, but you don’t hesitate to drop the flower gently into his hands.

“I never knew the meaning of these,” you turn to him and say softly. Your eyes match your voice and he knows you’re telling the truth, even if he doesn’t want to believe it. When he doesn’t move to touch it, nor get rid of it, you speak again, “It’s uh…it’s for you. I picked it on the way here. I thought you’d maybe like it.”

He finally picks it up and turns toward you, a mixture of emotions pooling in his eyes. You see the anger, the fear, the pain, and the love all at once. You wish you had seen it all sooner.

“Why are you giving this to me?” Lyney asks quietly. It comes off a little colder than he’d like, you see it in the way he winces after. You only stare at him with a sad, but hopeful look in your eyes. You couldn’t take back the past, but perhaps you could change the future.

Quietly, you take it from him and tuck it above his ear. He’d done the same to you one time, only it was part of a show and you thought it was just for the act. Oh how oblivious you were back then. “You know what it means to give someone one of these. Lyney, I…I never meant to push you away all these years. I was just scared because I liked you, and Lynette was easier to get closer to than face my feelings for you. Even if we were just ten years old. It was immature and for that, I’m sorry.”

It’s quiet for a moment before his face brightens a bit, “Do you really mean it? You’ve really liked me all these years? Or are you just saying all this to make me feel better?”

You nod, confirming your words and he breaks out into laughter. A sound you’ve dearly missed. Sadness doesn’t suit Lyney.

“Can I…?” He says scooting closer to you, eyes glancing in between yours before falling to your lips. You nod, a small laugh escaping you as you lean in to meet him half way.

Lyney’s lips are soft against yours as he kisses you eagerly. You reciprocate the feeling, matching his pace until you both pull apart out of breath. You laugh nervously standing up and extending a hand, “Wanna go home?”

Lyney jumps up, his hand in yours and nods. He interlaces his fingers with yours tightly, not letting you go after all these missed out years.

When you return to the House of the Hearth, Lyney turns and places one last kiss to your lips. It’s short and sweet and lets you know that he’ll definitely be seeing you tomorrow. You turn and walk away after, wishing him a goodnight as you do. But before you can walk away completely and turns and shouts, “7 PM tomorrow at the Hotel Debourd! I’ll pick you up!”

Lynette appears behind him suddenly, rolling her eyes and waving to you before shutting the door on her twin, “You’re hopeless, brother.”

[nenoname]

Journal 3’s references to Stan

(…does the Lost Pages count as J3 when some had to be in J2 and also may or may not be a truth lie turducken? idk. Ford’s TBoB letters sure as hell don’t count as J3 but I’m including them here anyway)

Lost Journal Pages

"STANLEY COULD HAVE MADE HER LAUGH"

“My stomach sank a bit when I realized… it was my birthday. This day has felt… odd, since S and I… parted ways.”

"I was adjusting my TV antennae for weather reports (looking for ideal conditions for F's first portal test) and spat out my coffee when I saw THIS! My brother hawking scams under the name "Panley Stines." I had half a mind to call that number, just to pretend to be the police and maybe scare S straight for once! There is something so galling about seeing your OWN FACE committing crimes on your own TV! When my Muse saw me break my stress ball, I decided it was finally time to vent about Stanley."

""How about that; you've got an inferior clone! Why didn't you just eat him in the womb? Think of how powerful you'd be!"

"You can't just eat your twin, Bill."

You'd be surprised what you can eat! I say sure, call him if you want him to start mooching off you again! ME, I went no contact with my home dimension and I don't regret it. All they did was hold me back and sabotage my talents! Can you imagine?"

"More than you know. But you do ever wonder if maybe... maybe things could have been different?""

"Our heat budget was so tight that Mom forced S and me to wear one sweater at the same time. (She called it the "Abominable Snow-Stan." Our cat lived in fear of it year-round.)"

“DAMN! This morning I found F rummaging through my old copy of Urban Legends of New Jersey, where I had forgotten I had hidden some old personal items! I’ve quickly re-hidden them here, away from prying eyes.”

"But then he crossed a line. Helplessly I watched Cipher in my own body limp up to a pay phone and dial... STANLEY'S phone number from the infomercial?! No. He wouldn't.

"Hey brother, it's Sixer. I'm going to take a swim in the frozen lake tomorrow, and I might not ever come back, so if you don't hear from me, I just want you to know that it's because I never loved you. BUH-BYEEEEE."

My heart was in my throat until I heard the dial tone... The pay phone was out of order. The message hadn't gotten through. Cipher turned back to address me.

"TSK, TSK, TSK. LOOK WHAT YOU MADE ME MAKE YOU DO! TOMORROW'S TAPE IS GONNA BE MUCH WORSE.""

(Bro secret code) "miss you"

“The snow has begun to fall again and there’s very little time. There’s only one left I can turn to to protect my journals while I prepare for the journey…”

"S is an overgrown child with none of my rigorous mental training. Who knows what could happen if Cipher stepped inside Stanley's mind for even one minute...

What if Stanley somehow manages to destroy the portal just like he destroyed my perpetual motion machine? I suppose that machine did work in its own way... It kept me perpetually angry for thirty years."

(Bro secret code) "HAVE I BEEN TOO HARSH ALL ALONG?"

"What if he tries to rope me into his latest get-rich-quick scheme? His latest commercial was for "Stan Sauce: The Miracle Sauce that's too cool for the FDA!"

What if... he mocks me? What if he sees that I abandoned our family to become a recluse on the brink of madness? Could I risk admitting that I was... wrong?

PROS: I have no one else. Well, that settles it. It's time to come face-to-face with a face I haven't seen in 10 years. My own face. Which... is my brother's face. God, I miss sleep."

Ford’s Letters

"In the weeks since Weirdmageddon, I conducted numerous tests on Stanley's mind (his terrible jokes are still intact) and inspected the state for dimensional leakage (we also took turns kicking the statue, and Stanley took a few cracks with a crowbar). I burned every Cipher-shaped item I had ever collected, and even threw away all my one-dollar bills, just to be safe (Stanley, of course, found and pocketed them).

“I emerged from my lab after days of agonized contemplation to find- to my shock- that Mabel was reading the book, out loud, to Stanley, Dipper, Soos, and Wendy!”

“They didn’t see me as an irredeemable screwup. Stanley said, "So, your past is just a giant pile of mistakes? Congratulations- you really are a Pines!”“

"Bill may tell you that happiness requires conquering galaxies and living forever, but I've seen enough of the universe to tell you that he's wrong. I've found my happiness. And it looks like this:"

"If you're reading this... then I am dead. Kidding! Sorry, Stanley thought that would be funny. Ha-ha! We're currently out shopping for harpoons to prepare for our trip to the arctic."

"Stan, if you end breaking into my lab at some point later today- Bravo! Still as good a locksmith as in 8th grade. Beers are under the desk."

(It kinda strikes me that the BoB Lost Journal pages about Stan sound far more like post-portal Ford’s opinions on Stan instead, where he’s openly angry at both being pushed into the portal + at the portal being opened again + his murder suicide attempt being foiled + Stan disowning him + turning his house into a tourist trap + taking his identity vs pre-portal Ford being more… melodramatic(?) constantly being reminded of him but not wanting to linger too long? idk the vibes are different

Plus pre-portal Ford pretty consistently only calls Stan "S” or just refers to him as his brother (with the exception of him writing his name in a Caesar cipher). I think he only ever messes up the general naming scheme a single time when he wrote Fiddleford instead of F

…not to mention the perpetual motion machine comment says thirty instead of ten years)

Other sections: Pre-Portal, Post-Portal, Post-Weirdmageddon

[psychologeek]

This is Shani Louk, as her family asked people to remember her. Her family asked NOT to spread That Photo. Her family asked people to remember her for the way she lived.

So here's a photo of Shani Louk:

The man who took the picture of her dead body being kidnapped by terrorists just won a prize for that.

The man who came with those terrorists. Who knew the attack is going to happen. Who took photos and show himself holding weapons.

The man who worked with the people who aimed and killed and raped

That man

Won a photography prize

For taking the photo of

A young murdered woman.

For doing nothing but

Stand aside

And encourage.

Her family didn't even get her Body back.

Shani isn't buried.

I am disgusted. There are no words I can use.

ReneDescartwheel on Reddit wrote:

The content of the photo is a young Israeli woman lying dead and half naked in the back of a pickup truck, bleeding profusely from a hole in her skull, with her murderers using her as a foot rest, en route to be paraded like a hunting trophy in front of cheering mobs of Gazan civilians. And yet, the caption of the award couldn’t have been more dismissive of the October 7th atrocities if Hamas had written it themselves. It paints a picture of a well planned and successful military operation, without a single detail of the brutality of the massacre that is necessary to give context to this photo. The language used is deliberately minimizing. For instance, instead of saying that Hamas took hundreds of hostages, including women and children, they said “…taking dozens of captives”. That’s it. Could be 24, could be 253. Whatever. Somehow, despite the content of the photo, most of the description was dedicated to conveying the details of Israel’s retaliation.

MadUmbrella added:

TIL that initially on 10/7 the image sold by Ali Mahmud to AP of the abduction of Shani Louk’s body was identified by AP as “the body of an Israeli soldier”, so AP took the words of Ali Mahmud, a palestinian terrorist, and called Shani Louk “an Israeli soldier” while she was a civilian tortured and killed at Nova music festival. AP shared the photo on their newsfeed on 10/7 at 7:41 am, just a few minutes after the photo was taken and added the caption provided by Ali Mahmud who knew that his friends were kidnapping, torturing and murdering civilians at the Nova festival. This is complicity in the crimes committed by the palestinians on 10/7. AP’s journalistic ethics are completely gone, that’s why they’re paying palestinian terrorists for the images of their crimes. AP corrected their initial story only on November 2.

[archangeldyke-all]

Reader who's been hired as more muscle for the gang? Maybe Sev is a bit jealous and/or is mean to reader, but the reader plays this off by flirting/teasing Sev. And ends up topping her.

Jfdjhggj I need more bottom Sev in my life lmao

bottom sevika is the loml actually

men and minors dni

you cannot, for the fucking life of you, figure out why sevika hates you so much.

you've been working for silco for about six months now, and it's been great. the best job of your life. sure, you're constantly committing crimes and dodging punches, but silco pays well, you get unlimited drinks at the last drop, and you've found a great group of friends in all his other goons.

well, all of the goons except sevika. she despises you, and you've got no fucking idea why. you've been nothing but pleasant and respectful toward her, but lately your patience is starting to wear thin.

"everyone was great at the dropoff today, boss. ran saved us half an hour with some quick thinking and knife skills, and deckard was surprisingly accurate with his math."

"that's what i like to hear. any issues?" silco asks from his desk, where he's puffing on a cigar. your stomach sinks-- you know what's coming.

sevika's silver eyes flick over to you, a small smirk on her lips while she speaks. "the fuckin' rookie forgot to fill the van with gas." she says.

you scowl and scoff. "i did not! that was your fucking assignment-- i was in charge of driving!"

sevika's smirk turns into a grin-- it seems like the only thing she likes more than bothering you is when you fight back. "are you seriously speaking to your superior in that tone right now?" she asks.

"my 'superior'?! as far as i'm aware you're just the bitch at work who makes my life fucking miserable."

all the air gets sucked out of the room, and behind you ran mutters something under their breath. "wrong move, rookie."

sevika's sneering at you, and you get exactly one second of warning before she's grabbed you by the collar of your shirt and is dragging you out of the office, a series of 'oooooh's following behind you.

"oh, great, now she's gonna fuckin' kill me before i can even get paid for today's work." you mutter to yourself as sevika drags you to her office, slamming the door shut behind her. she shoves you against the wall hard, and you grunt. "fuck! what is your fucking problem!?" you shout, shoving at sevika's shoulders. she barely budges.

"you talk too much for your own fuckin' good, y'know." she growls.

you sneer up at her. "and you'd be a lot more attractive if you learned to play nice."

sevika freezes, her anger melting into a shocked expression. you giggle a little-- it looks like you've finally found a way to fight back with sevika-- flirting. "sh-shut up." she mutters eventually. you snort.

"what's wrong, sev, got you tongue tied? that's all it takes, huh? a little compliment and you lose all that bite?" you tease.

sevika doesn't get angry like you expect her to, though. instead, she gulps, and her eyes get wide. you burst into giggles and sevika blinks, her shoulders hunching up. "shut the fuck up." she tries to sound scary, but her voice is too shaky for it to work.

"oh, shit!" you laugh. sevika hunches in on herself even more. "holy shit! you've got a crush on me!" you cackle, pointing an accusing finger at sevika. you watch in fascination as a blush creeps all the way up her neck to the tip of her ears.

"n-no i don't." she tries to deny. you're still reeling from your discovery, giddy and flabbergasted.

"you totally do! holy shit how did i not realize this before!? you're an emotionally constipated shithead, of course you don't know how to flirt! you probably didn't even realize, did you? just wanted to tug my pigtails and get my attention somehow huh?" sevika blinks at you owlishly-- more surprised than you've ever seen her before. you snort. "everything makes sense now." you chuckle to yourself.

"f-fuck off." sevika mutters eventually. you cackle and smack her on the shoulder.

"i've got you all worked out, hah! monday's gonna be a breeze." you laugh to yourself as you make to leave. sevika reaches out and spins you back around before you can open the door fully. you raise an eyebrow at her. "yes?"

sevika looks flustered and confused and slightly scared of you. you giggle a bit as you watch her try and fail to come up with anything to say, before rolling your eyes and giving her a little help.

"figure out a nicer way to flirt with me and you might be surprised, sev. until then, leave me the fuck alone unless you want me telling the gang why you've been picking on me so much." you say, then turn to leave again.

this time you make it halfway out the room before sevika's pulling you back in the room, slamming the door shut and shoving you against the wall again. for one horrible second you worry that you've read the whole situation wrong and you've only managed to enrage sevika even more with the suggestion that she might like you-- especially when sevika's hand wraps around your throat-- but then she freezes and takes a shaky breath. her fingers unwrap from your neck, slowly trailing up to cup your face.

"shut up." sevika whispers at what must be the cockiest, pleasantly surprised smile on your face. you just snort.

"make me." you demand.

sevika swoops forward to kiss you, and you giggle against her lips.

she's like putty in your hands, letting you guide her hands up and down your body, moaning against your lips. when you sink a hand into her hair, she shivers, and you manage to flip the two of you so you're pressing her against the door.

sevika's panting and staring at you with stars in her eyes. you snort at the sight-- endlessly intrigued with her now that you've figured her out. "oh, you're sweet aren't you?" you tease.

sevika tries to glare at you, but it falls flat with her eyes blown so wide they're black and her hands desperately clutching at your hips. "no, i'm not." she denies. you giggle and lean forward to start sucking a hickey against her throat-- the idea of sevika wearing your bite on her throat in front of the gang tomorrow making you dizzy.

"you are." you say. "bet you're fuckin' soaked for me, too, aren't you?"

sevika whimpers. you have to kiss her again to keep from laughing at her. she's pathetic. it's so fucking hot.

sevika grabs your hand and tries to shove it down her pants. you laugh, pulling away from her and grabbing her chin-- forcing her to look at you. "sevika, take a breath, babe." you request. she moans at the petname, and you laugh. "fuck, you're cute."

"fuck off!" sevika growls. you snort.

"i need you to use your words before i can take care of you, honey."

sevika shivers, her voice shaky as she speaks. "fuck... please fuck me."

you raise an eyebrow at her, and sevika actually stomps her foot. you laugh. "and why should i?" you ask.

sevika sputters, then cringes. you watch her mentally debate whether or not she's horny enough to communicate-- and you're surprised when she takes a deep breath, rolls her eyes, and then speaks. "b-because... because i've got a stupid fuckin' crush on you, okay!?" she shouts.

you grin and lean forward, kissing her cheek. "okay." you say simply, shoving your hand down the front of her pants and boxers. sevika whimpers, leaning forward to bury her face against your shoulder as you gasp. "oh, baby-- you're soaked." you coo.

she bites your shoulder. "would you just-- shut the fuck --ah!" she gasps at you sink two fingers inside her. "f-f-f-fuck!" she whines. you laugh.

"you better shut up or everyone's gonna know what's goin' on in here." you tease. sevika whimpers, and leans back-- shoving a fist in her mouth. you snort and lean forward, nudging her hand out of the way with your face. "move that. i got a better way to shut you up."

sevika's hand wraps around you, clawing at your back as you start to kiss her. it's uncoordinated and sloppy-- both of you too focused on her cunt to care much about your lips-- and it's the hottest kiss of your life. especially because sevika keeps whimpering into your mouth.

you manage to muffle most of her moans and groans, but when she cums, sevika leans back and shouts. "oh, oh, oh fuck!"

you giggle against her throat-- there's no explaining that away-- but you think sevika might've done it on purpose. you have a sneaking suspicion that sevika's going to be a possessive lover if the way she's clinging to you as she catches her breath is any clue. you don't mind.

"you're a fucking mess." you tease. sevika grunts and pinches your ass.

"shut up."

"that's rich coming from you. think the walls shook with how loud you were squealing."

"shut up!" sevika growls. you laugh.

"you don't scare me, baby. 'specially not when your cunt's still squeezing my fingers." you say, wiggling said fingers just a bit. sevika growls and bites your shoulder again, and you giggle. "are you gonna go back to bein' a bitch to me now or have we moved past that?" you ask.

sevika huffs and picks her head up, peeking up at you with puppy eyes. "i'm... sorry." she mutters. you smirk, raising an eyebrow at her, and sevika groans and straightens up. "i am!" she whines. "i just-- y'know." she says, waving her hand at you. you giggle.

"i do know." you say, nodding. "you're a mess."

sevika huffs. "yeah, basically."

"it's okay, sev. you're a hot mess." you tease. she snorts.

"i can't believe i like you." she groans. you just laugh. sevika huffs and you pull your hand out of her pants and straighten her out a bit. you make to leave and sevika squeaks. "wait!" you pause in the doorway, and sevika gulps, cringes, and groans. "fuck. fuck! fuck, i don't... just-- what're you doing tonight?" she asks.

something inside you flutters and you shrug. "you tell me."

sevika smiles a bit, her eyes darting away from you as she reaches up to rub the back of her neck. "...i won a shitload of money in cards last night... i could take us up to the promenade?" she asks. you grin.

"pullin' out all the stops, huh?" you ask. she shrugs.

"'s an apology."

"i like it. you've got yourself a date, sev."

sevika grins.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@shimtarofstupidity @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@sevikaspillowprincess @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette

@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp

@iamastar @sevikitty @mascdom @nhaaauyen

@mirconreadzztuff22 @veoomvroom @lushh-s3vik4s @katyawooga @lesbodietcoke

[thevoidstaredback]

How To Balance Your Daytime and Nighttime Activities So That You Don't Burn Yourself Out More Than You Already Have

Danny didn't know how he was doing it, but all the acting classes he never took were really paying off!

'Fake 'til you make it and hope you don't get caught' is a great motto to live by and he is prepared to defend this hill with what's left of his living life.

By some miracle, Alfred hadn't kicked him from the haunt, instead giving him all the same permissions Dick, Barbra, and Tim have! He was warned about going to the Bat Cave for any reason, though. Not like Danny had any plans to enter Bruce Wayne's haunt. No thank you.

Speaking of Mister Wayne, Danny was so ready to be away from him. Just knowing they're in the same building was setting him off!

Bruce Wayne, on TV and in the eye of the public, was a man grieving his lost son. He's a playboy and a philanthropist who couldn't tell you left from right, but he's also Gotham's White Knight; her prince. A family man who's lost yet another of his family and doing his best to move past it.

In private, at least as far as Danny could tell, Bruce Wayne is a pessimist and a narcissist. He's a man desperate for a family, but unwilling to let anyone close, pushing everyone away and keeping them no closer than arm's length. He's stuck in the past, unable to move past mourning his parents and now his son. He is much more Batman than Bruce Wayne and it's only a matter of time before the two worlds collide disastrously.

Danny wouldn't know, but he can make a pretty educated guess on the matter.

Throughout the entire dinner, Danny had been observing everyone. He analyzed how they interacted, how they held themselves, how they ate, and how they reacted to his and Mister Wayne's conversation.

His main focus is Dick. Dick will always be his top priority, but Tim had quickly been added to the list. Barbra wasn't nearly as high on his list of people to take care of, but he was going to offer his help should she ever need it.

Especially because she snuck a nervous glance at Miaster Wayne when he mentioned Oracle.

He hadn't intended to stay the night in Gotham, but he wasn't going to turn away the opportunity, especially because Alfred was very insistent that Danny and Dick stay. And Tim and Barbra asking them on patrol? They both had pretty good puppy eyes, but Danny wasn't the one who made the mistake of looking at them.

Regardless, Nightwing being in Gotham for the night presented the Bludhaven Goons the perfect opportunity to commit crimes unpunished for the night. It wouldn't take long for the news to get out. Danny had fully planned on Phantom being there, flying over to work in Bludhaven before returning at his normal time, but Tim and Barbra convincing him to be on comms presented a bit of a hiccup in his plans.

Dick finding out about Phantom was inevitable. In fact, he didn't plan on hiding Phantom, but the times where Dick or Nightwing were awake never matched up when Phantom was out.

Okay, so maybe he was hiding a little bit.

Tim and Barbra finding out, on the other hand, was a bit of a problem.

Phantom was a hero in Amity Park, Illinois for only a little while before disappearing. He wasn't hugely known outside of the town or ghost hunters, not doing anything to warrant attention from the Big Leagues. (Nothing they knew of, anyway) It was unlikely that anyone outside of the niche group even knew his name, let alone what he looked like or how he worked.

Still. Tim figured out Nightwing's and Batman's identities, probably Batgirl's, too. And Batman is notoriously known for his paranoia and for somehow knowing everything and having a way to counteract it.

Mister Wayne is already looking into Danny, likely having already stumbled across the Missing Person report that wouldn't have gone through, ending up at a dead end. He'd easily put Danny and Phantom together as related somehow, if not being the same person.

Tim, similar to Mister Wayne, needs to know everything. The difference is that Tim's need to know is obviously a trauma response. Something that Danny would like to help him with, but that's beside the current point. It'll take maybe five minutes for Tim to find out everything he can about Phantom and Danny, especially now that he knows that Danny used to be a vigilante.

Sure, Danny could try and hide Phantom from them, but being on comms with them for the night would alert them to even the smallest fight. He's not a loud person, much preferring espionage and stealth over physical altercations, no matter how much his track record disagreed.

So, he's now presented with a choice. Introduce them to Phantom despite telling them that he was done being a hero, or leave Bludhaven to the mercy of her underworld for the night.

He was never quite able to leave stuff alone.

Sam had called him a tutelar.

Whatever that means.

Why couldn't these decisions be easier? Can't he ever have a Cinderella option? Why can't he ever just not decide?

Part 14 Part 16

[justwinginglife]

If you're comfortable with it, is it okay for me to request for Mean!Hoshina? Who finds it cute and endearing to tease and annoy glasses-wearing!(name). Lightly pulling on her hair; pinching certain parts of her body; and hiding/stealing her glasses and leaving handprints on them(some more subtle and unnoticable than others because there's something about having a piece of him in every sight she sees). I was also thinking maybe nsfw at the end where Hoshina steals her glasses and the built up tension between them leads to his cum smeared her glasses.

Once again, thank you for this delicious idea. If I don't find my own glasses covered in Hoshina's cum at some point, I will demand a refund. I also changed up the request a bit, hope you don't mind. And if yall couldn't tell by the request, this will be NSFW so proceed at your own caution.

The Biggest Tease

Soshiro Hoshina was the biggest damn tease you'd ever met and sometimes you didn't know if he hated you or if he loved you, but you did know one thing- the man was fucking obsessed with you.

He made it his own personal mission to track you down everyday just to pick on you and though you wanted to be annoyed at him, you couldn't help but feel smug at just how much time he was devoting to you. He could do anything he wanted and what he wanted was anything to do with you. It was quite the ego boost if you were honest with yourself.

At first, he'd just tease you verbally. He'd call you four eyes and you'd call him shit for brains because he couldn't come up with a single original insult. But he wasn't trying to insult you. He wanted your attention. He wanted you to punch his arm, roll your eyes at him, slice through his defenses with some witty remark. Everything about you was enticing to him. From the way you played with your hair, to the way you scrunched up your nose, to the way you pushed up your glasses. He could never get enough of you. He was addicted.

Eventually, his growing desire to be near you translated into physical touch. When you'd twirl the ends of your hair, he'd steal a strand from in between your fingers and tug on it gently, reveling in how soft it was. When you’d stretch your arms, he’d pinch your vulnerable sides, and then smirk when you’d yelp. When you’d take your glasses off to clean them, he’d swipe them from your hands, chills running down his spine as his fingers brushed yours, then he’d give the lenses a good lick, and call it “clean,” before handing it back to you smugly. 

When he found out that it was one of your biggest pet peeves having anything dirtying your glasses, he went out of his way to smear them any chance he could. Instead of saying hi, every morning he would strut up to you, poke your lenses, and then cheerfully skip away, as if he didn’t just commit a heinous crime in your eyes. 

As irritating as his persistence was, you could no longer imagine a life where he wasn’t cozied up next to you, using your shoulder as a pillow on the transport, or snagging a fork straight out of your mouth so he could use it too, or even just testing the limits of how close you would allow him to get to you, smudging your lenses with the tip of his nose. You’d made the mistake of telling him once that every time you looked through your glasses and saw a mark on the lens, you thought of him, and now he’d got it in his head that he needed to keep smudging them to remind you of his presence, as if he wasn’t already constantly by your side, trying to rile you up. 

And he did rile you up. 

At first, you tried to ignore him. Tried not to give him the time of day, tried not to give him the satisfaction of your attention. But then your playful, devilish side got the better of you, and suddenly you were paying more attention to him than ever before, trying to figure out what pushed his buttons, trying to figure out what ticked him off. So you’d ruffle his hair after he’d just brushed it, you’d unzip his jacket after he just put it on, you’d untie his laces after he just slipped into his shoes. 

Before you knew it, you’d danced your way into a gray area in your relationship with him, doing things like nipping at his neck when he was trying to concentrate on paperwork, then squeezing his thigh as he struggled to keep his boner at bay. You’d whisper seductive things in his ear and then prance off like you hadn’t said a word. Hoshina was starting to think you invented blue balls. 

So today, when you noticed he was lingering by the locker rooms longer than he usually did after work, you figured he was probably going to take a shower before heading home tonight, and you had the genius idea to sneak into the locker room, steal his clothes, and stash them away elsewhere. When he came out of the shower, you planned to be sitting smugly on the bench waiting for him; maybe you’d even make him beg on his knees for his clothes back. But your plans backfired when his figure emerged from the steamed up shower, water dripping down his rippling muscles, hair sloppy and sexy, with a sly smirk plastered across his face as he leaned against a nearby wall, eying you up and down. 

“Well this is a pleasant surprise. I didn’t think I’d have an audience while I showered. You wouldn’t happen to know where my clothes went, would you?” He teased, knowing full well that you were completely distracted by the sight of his physique and… something else. 

Your eyes had trailed their way down his chiseled chest, down his toned abs, down to the ever-growing erection in between his legs. It seemed to stiffen even more with every second you stared at it, like it was pleased at your attention, like it was standing at the ready. 

You gulped and gripped the bench tight. 

He grinned devilishly, before pulling himself off the wall and slinking his way towards you. “Nothing to say, love? Aren’t you usually so full of quick remarks?” He stroked himself as he walked and it was like your eyes had been commanded to watch, because you suddenly found it extremely difficult to look away. 

“Shit,” was all you managed to whisper before you found him right in front of you, his cock mere inches away from your mouth. 

He bent down to murmur in your ear, “Now, what were all those naughty things you were saying to me the other day? Shall we revisit some of them?”

You flushed bright red, and he pulled away to admire his handiwork, pinching at your colored cheeks. “Adorable, really. I bet those cheeks would look even better stuffed with my cock, yeah?”

You unintentionally licked your lips at the thought and he groaned. 

But one groan was enough, the sound like music to your ears. You wanted to know what other sounds you could pry from his lips. His gorgeous lips. 

So, without a second thought, your hand reached out to yank his cock towards you and suddenly it was hitting the back of your throat before either of you had time to fully process what was going on. 

His cocky demeanor vanished, melting away into your mouth as you sucked the smug right out of him. You had teased him endless amounts of times before, but he never imagined you'd actually follow through with any of it. He wasn't sure he was prepared for your onslaught. When you sucked harder and a whimper escaped him, it only spurred you on further. His fingers dug into your shoulder as you continued to choke him down. The tiled walls of the locker room echoed with the sounds of his moans and the sloppy, wet noises of his cock fucking your throat, and he thought the lewdness of it all might overwhelm him. He was practically dizzy with desire.

Meanwhile, you thought you’d just been trying to get him back for his arrogance, trying to shut him up, trying to make him squirm for you, but when his precum started to seep into your mouth, you knew you were sucking him dry for your own enjoyment. You hadn't realized just how badly you’d wanted to taste him and now that the physical evidence of his attraction to you was shuddering in your mouth, drizzling with pleasure, you couldn’t stop tasting him. 

Your mouth suctioned around his cock, his bulging veins carving delicious indents into the walls of your mouth as you swallowed down more of his erection. For a brief moment, you wondered if you could be selfish enough to command him to relocate his boner into your cunt. If he felt this good in your throat, you could only imagine the insurmountable pleasure he’d fuck into your pussy. You groaned as your slick began to dampen your underwear and you pulled away from him, trying to get ahold of yourself, trying to remember that you were teasing him, that you were in control.

“F-fuck, d-don’t s-stop, w-why’d you…” His fingers pierced your flesh as he attempted to steady himself against your shoulder, but his cock was aching, and he needed relief. He grabbed ahold of it, just to stop the quivering, just to ground himself, but the sensation of his hand wrapping around his overloaded erection sent waves of pleasure pulsing through him and a flood of his hot, white cum burst from his tip, splashing all over your face and coating your lenses with a thick layer. 

You blinked and slowly tugged your glasses off your face. Even half blind, you could see that he was embarrassed. Hoshina, the man who always went out of his way to dirty your lenses, was now ashamed that he’d dirtied them in the dirtiest way possible. You smirked at the thought. Maybe you could tease him some more. You ran a digit down your cheek, collecting his cum on the tip, before seductively licking it off the end of your finger. You heard him swallow.

“Oh, what a shame. Looks like I’m all dirty now. If only there was some way to get cleaned up.” You stripped bare and then grabbed his hand, leading him into one of the showers.

He was stunned but he followed behind you anyway. 

“Now be a good boy and save some of that dirty, dirty cum of yours for my cunt, yeah?”

His eyes widened in surprise, but his cock was eager to take you up on the offer, hardening again on the spot.

You turned on the shower and began making out with him underneath the showerhead, tangling your hands in his hair as you let the warm water rinse the cum from your body. 

Amidst the passion and the heat, he somehow found his voice again.

“You’re such a goddamn tease.” He growled against your neck, nipping and sucking at it. Then he hoisted you up and wrapped your legs around his waist before pressing you up against the shower wall. 

“Ah, so he does remember how to talk.” You teased as you licked at his collarbone.

His eyes darkened, a bottomless hunger emerging inside him. “Laugh while you can. It’s my turn, love, and by the time I’m finished with you, you won’t remember how to walk.” 

“Ooh, promises, promises, Hoshina.”

He silenced any further retorts with a sharp thrust up your dripping cunt.

You yelped and he smirked.

“Oh, I always make good on my promises, baby. And I promise, I'll make good on this one all damn night.”

[sleepyangelkami]

hi ur writing for bellamy is so good and i loved the one of the drunk one whatever so i need to request one that’s like that

so like basically bellamy and u we’re like lowkey enemies kinda and u we’re always picking on eachother and one night while everyone was celebrating at the dropship, monty and harper were playing like a drinking game so you decided to join in but you got wayy to drunk so u decided to go on a side quest and just walk around camp until somehow you ended up in bellamy’s tent and you just started yapping about random stuff but you accidentally tell him you are literally in love with him and then you throw up on him and end up embarrassing yourself but then he was like i’m lowkey in love with you too and so you fall asleep in his tent with him but jasper ends up getting way to drunk too and he stumbles into bellamy’s tent and sees you guys so he decides to tell everyone about it and the next morning everyone’s picking on you guys since your supposedly enemies

A MESS b.blake

𝜗𝜚 WORD COUNT - 2.6K

BELLAMY BLAKE X FEM!READER

𝜗𝜚 A/N - thank you so much for the request angel, i tweaked it a little, i hope you don't mind!!!

𝜗𝜚 SUMMARY - you were one of the unlucky ones, sent down to the ground in a skirt. so while drunk and looking for a place of warmth, you manage to stumble into bellamy blake's tent, the boy you've always hated, or so you've said.

𝜗𝜚 WARNINGS - drinking, underage drinking, drunk!reader, love confessions, throwing up, reader has a mom, crying, comfort, (3) use of y/n, petnames, intended lower case, nothing i write is ever proofread 🩷

you weren't supposed to be sent to the ground.

you weren't one of the hundred that committed crimes and were paying out their sentence. on the contrary, you couldn't be further from a criminal. but your mother just so happened to be on the council on the ark. she decided that if you were going to die it was going to be on the ground and not dying of no air up there.

at the beginning, you held out hope that you'd go back. in fact, you were one of the only ones who still had their wristbands on.

but the hundred had given up any source of hope, that was why everyone was wasting all of their booze. you too began to stumble around, talking to some, avoiding others and downing the distasteful liquid.

"well, that's a surprise." you turned your head at the deep voice. bellamy blake.

he was a pretty boy but he knew that which instantly made him so much less appealing. he had that pretty dark tousled hair with his glowing eyes and many freckles. you'd be jealous if you were a boy, you supposed. though it must run in the family because octavia was just as beautiful.

both your parents were awfully close back in the day. you used to look at bellamy as if he were your friend though octavia would always hold the title of your best friend. but bellamy changed after a while, he turned into this unrecognisable boy after octavia had been arrested.

you were one of the only people who knew of octavia's existence before then but when testifying, you had to swear that you didn't know who she was so your mother didn't get in trouble. perhaps that was when bellamy decided to turn into a stranger.

at each other's throats is what you were now. you could hardly stand to be in a room with him. he and his posse only got worse now that they were on the ground, ripping off people's wristbands and telling them that they wouldn't be allowed to eat if they hadn't. you supposed you'd been an exception, despite his unkind nature towards you.

perhaps octavia had said something to him.

"what is?" your voice was sort of slurred. the night had hardly begun and you were already off your rocker, the alcohol was enough to have you woozy.

"didn't take you for much of a drinker, princess, that's all." the godawful nickname he'd given you all that time ago.

you cocked a brow at the boy, turning your head. it was sort of hard to feign hatred when you looked at him like that, with big glassy eyes. "why not?"

he tsked. "not really what good girls do, is it?"

you could only roll your eyes at him. "go find someone else to bother, bells."

you watched as his face dropped ever so slightly.

bells. he'd given you the nickname princess but you'd settled on bells back when he was still someone you looked up to. you thought it suited him well but he always complained, said it made him sound like a girl. not that you cared, though. it'd been a long time since that nickname left your lips.

"right." he could only clear his throat, eyebrows knitted together as he found himself walking away, his boots too large and too funny looking to your drunk self.

you hadn't registered the nickname that had left your lips and now your brows were strewn together. "so weird."

"who's weird?" that was the sound of the familiar boy jasper, one of the hundred, arrested for something drug related with his best friend monty. you couldn't keep up with those two.

"jasper!" you practically slung yourself around the boy, he caught you before you could stumble backwards while a grin plastered itself on his face, a matching one on your own as your head dropped against his chest.

there was never anything between you and jasper but you were both awfully touchy, especially with a little alcohol in you both.

from the other side of the camp, you couldn't register the look bellamy was burning into the side of the boys head.

"jasper's a weirdo?" monty questioned. he never got as drunk as the rest, just enough of a buzz to find everything funny.

you weren't much of a drinker, if you were being honest. if someone had offered you drink back on the ark you would have refused in miliseconds but a lot had changed since then. besides, what did you have to lose, by the rate the camp was going, you'd all be dead in a few months anyway.

"no." you hiccuped. "jasper's gonna help me find some more booze."

"yes i am." he turned. "hop on." and he bent down, allowing you to jump on his back as he began walking back to the others, monty followed not too far behind.

the crowd of people were in the middle of the camp, they poured out people drinks and passed them around, nobody was alone. that part was funny, you thought. if they were all still on the ark, half of them wouldn't so much as look at one another, but now? they were closer than ever.

there was a makeshift table out of logs of wood which held all the booze, jasper got to work with pouring you something not too strong. seeing as you didn't drink much, it wasn't the best idea to give you something ridiculous. "hey miller." miller was next to you, around the same height as jasper but seeing as you were on his back, he looked small to you. you wondered if this was how they saw you on the daily. "hows the weather down there." you giggled against jasper's hair while jasper snorted.

"nice to see you too, y/n." you couldn't really see miller's eyes seeing as his beanie was practically attached to his head but you could see he was smiling, that was all that really mattered to you.

"we really need to let you drink more." octavia always found everything funny when she drank, much like monty in that way. it was good to see the girl so carefree, she cared too much about things these days.

"i agree." though there was a sudden slouchness that came with drinking. "octavia, is my skirt up?" the realization that you were on the boy's back, despite the black skirt that your mother had so graciously let you wear that day, not telling you that you should have maybe wore a sweatpants because hey, you were getting sent to the ground.

"nope. but i'll let you know if anyone starts talking about seeing an ass out."

you grinned, laying your head against the mop of hair on jasper's head. "you're the bestest."

"that's not a word, y/n." monty mumbled to you, watching as you turned with a frown. "but well done for being really nice..?"

"okay!" jasper announced, allowing you off his back. "one drink for the lady." he practically bowed, passing the drink off to you.

both monty and jasper stared, seemingly interested as you brought the cup up to your mouth, tasting the burning liquid. you did, then immediately scrunching your face up. "ew! jasper what the heck is that? it tastes like... tastes like..."

"barf?" octavia helped.

"tastes like barf!"

"maybe, but you'll feel a nice buzz after." jasper pushed it towards your lips again. "just drink it and see how you feel later."

you did in fact feel a buzz after.

the party continued and all you could focus on was the dizziness clouding your vision, the way your head was suddenly swirling. you ended up losing the others, how? you were unsure but the crowd was too loud to go back into. some people were scattered around the edges by the tents which is where you found yourself stumbling.

your legs were suddenly freezing, despite the pretty lacy black tights that covered them. you really did wish your mother had given you a heads up.

your spinny eyes looked to the tents and you wondered if you could get some warmth inside there. there was only one problem, it was much too dark and you were much too drunk to find your own one.

in a single tent, you could see the reflection of what appeared to be a lamp. it was one of the makeshift ones that the camp had made, a little fire in a box, lighting up the whole room. you could see the outline from the outside and you hoped and prayed that whoever's tent it was, they wouldn't mind you coming in for a little while.

one foot in front of the other, you reminded yourself, wobbling your way towards the tent.

in no time, you'd made it towards the entrance, pulling open the sheer curtain to reveal bellamy blake, sitting with his eyes closed against the sleeping back, arms behind his head.

"hello." you practically squeaked.

bellamy's eyes opened and he looked your frame up and down. "yes?"

"was jus' wondering..." you stumbled walked into the room, finger against the sticks holding the tend up. "wondering when the next supply run was on."

"yeah." he smacked his lips. "and then the real reason that you're here?"

he couldn't help it. as much as you disliked one another, bellamy had known you since you were young, you couldn't exactly get away with hiding much from him. a loud sigh left your lips as you plopped down on the blanket at the other side of the tent. "'m cold." your hands rubbed at your eyes. "really don' like bein' drunk, bells."

he cleared his throat, stiffening in his spot as he let his arms down. "why don't you go rest in your tent then, y/n?"

"can't find it." you blew air out from your lips. your eyes rose to meet his. "can i stay..?" your voice was low, you hardly knew what to expect back, you wouldn't have been surprised if he yelled at you to leave right then and there.

but instead, he pursed his lips. "you can stay." and your lips curved as he tossed you one of the hideous orange blankets. "here, cause you're so cold."

"you're the bestest." you yawned while laying on your back, the sound of monty's voice telling you that it wasn't a word filling your head. "do you remember when i used to sleep over at yours back on the ark?"

the fond memories filled his mind. "i do."

"i kind of miss that." you hiccuped, slurring your words. "miss the ark. i wanna go home, i think. but 's nice here, with octavia back, feel like she's been gone forever. when we were younger, we used to talk about coming to the ground together, you know? you were always in the plan, too, couldn't leave you behind."

jasper wasn't lying, you'd definitely felt more than a buzz.

your head turned despite being laid on the ground. bellamy was looking at you the same way he did so long ago, nothing had changed in his face, he didn't look a bit older, he just got taller and stockier. "you changed, bell. got mean."

you could tell there was a kind of guilt ridden in his eyes. "everyone changed, we had to."

"maybe." you slurred. "but i wouldn't have stopped loving you like that."

he thought back to everything that had happened. when octavia was put in prison and his mother was floated, he tried to find anyone he could to blame. he never stopped loving you, he just pushed you away until you stopped fighting.

his heart was stuttering. he hadn't spoken to you like this in... he didn't even know how long, that was what tore him up even more. but seeing you like this, talking to you like this, it was as if things had never changed. "still love me after everything?" it was almost a joke, the way he'd said it. he wasn't expecting you to truly respond.

but the words, "of course." came from your mouth before you could so much as think of an answer to say. "i'll always love you. do you think... do you think you could ever love me again, bells?"

he never stopped.

but he wasn't nearly as drunk as you, he couldn't say the words with such ease like you could. all you had to do was blame it on the booze. but this was real to him.

once again, he pursed his lips. "how about we talk about this when you're sober, 'kay princess?"

you sat up, eyes looking foggy, far away even.

the words set in and you realised he avoided your question completely.

no answer was still an answer, right?

"i should go." you mumbled under your breath, embarrassment sneaking its way through your cheeks, tears stinging at your iris'. you realised that you'd said more than you should have.

nothing was ever going to go back to the way it was.

"no, don't, angel―" but you were already getting up. bellamy had let you go once, he didn't plan on doing it again.

he too moved from his place, getting up and following you out of the tent. "come on, princess, let's just go back inside, yeah?"

he could hear you sniffle. "no, i just―"

you couldn't finish your sentence, you were already on the ground.

bellamy sped up, getting to you in three strides. "you're okay, baby, come on, let's go."

you shook your head, shaky breath leaving your lips. "no, bells, don't feel well."

bellamy hadn't watched you get drunk before but he'd watched enough and been in your position enough to know what was going to happen. "you're okay, sweet girl, just let it out." he was already scooping up your hair into a makeshift ponytail.

it took seconds before you were emptying your guts into the bush.

but the boy didn't say anything, holding your hair back and using his free hand to rub up and down your shirt. "there you go, atta girl."

but you didn't feel like you were doing anything right.

if anything, it just made everything so much worse.

as you moved your head away, you felt the tears beginning to sprout. "ruined everything." you mumbled feebly, feeling the weight of the situation hit you after the alcohol finally began to wear off.

"you didn't ruin anything." bellamy let your hair go, using his hands to wipe away the straying tears. "everything's fine, okay?"

but you shook your head, tears finding their way down your cheeks anyway. "i ruined your night, got sick and embarrassed myself and―and nothings ever gonna go back to the way it was and you're never gonna love me again and―"

"hey, hey, hey, look at me." you did as you were told, looking at him with red teary eyes. "i can't love you again because i never stopped loving you in the first place, okay?"

"you mean it?" all sniffily

"of course i mean it." with nothing other than the truth.

"you're not just saying it?"

"of course i'm not just saying it." the man helped you up. "come on, you need to rest."

you weren't too sure what to do now. you'd been so aching to get all of it off your chest that you hadn't even thought about what would happen after.

whatever it was, you were sure you and bellamy could face it together.

main masterlist/bellamy's masterlist

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Microsoft put their tax-evasion in writing and now they owe $29 billion

I'm coming to Minneapolis! Oct 15: Presenting The Internet Con at Moon Palace Books. Oct 16: Keynoting the 26th ACM Conference On Computer-Supported Cooperative Work and Social Computing.

If there's one thing I took away from Propublica's explosive IRS Files, it's that "tax avoidance" (which is legal) isn't a separate phenomenon from "tax evasion" (which is not), but rather a thinly veiled euphemism for it:

https://www.propublica.org/series/the-secret-irs-files

That realization sits behind my series of noir novels about the two-fisted forensic accountant Martin Hench, which started with last April's Red Team Blues and continues with The Bezzle, this coming February:

https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250865847/red-team-blues

A typical noir hero is an unlicensed cop, who goes places the cops can't go and asks questions the cops can't ask. The noir part comes in at the end, when the hero is forced to admit that he's being going places the cops didn't want to go and asking questions the cops didn't want to ask. Marty Hench is a noir hero, but he's not an unlicensed cop, he's an unlicensed IRS inspector, and like other noir heroes, his capers are forever resulting in his realization that the questions and places the IRS won't investigate are down to their choice not to investigate, not an inability to investigate.

The IRS Files are a testimony to this proposition: that Leona Hemsley wasn't wrong when she said, "Taxes are for the little people." Helmsley's crime wasn't believing that proposition – it was stating it aloud, repeatedly, to the press. The tax-avoidance strategies revealed in the IRS Files are obviously tax evasion, and the IRS simply let it slide, focusing their auditing firepower on working people who couldn't afford to defend themselves, looking for things like minor compliance errors committed by people receiving public benefits.

Or at least, that's how it used to be. But the Biden administration poured billions into the IRS, greenlighting 30,000 new employees whose mission would be to investigate the kinds of 0.1%ers and giant multinational corporations who'd Helmsleyed their way into tax-free fortunes. The fact that these elite monsters paid no tax was hardly a secret, and the impunity with which they functioned was a constant, corrosive force that delegitimized American society as a place where the rules only applied to everyday people and not the rich and powerful who preyed on them.

The poster-child for the IRS's new anti-impunity campaign is Microsoft, who, decades ago, "sold its IP to to an 85-person factory it owned in a small Puerto Rican city," brokered a deal with the corporate friendly Puerto Rican government to pay almost no taxes, and channeled all its profits through the tiny facility:

https://www.propublica.org/article/the-irs-decided-to-get-tough-against-microsoft-microsoft-got-tougher

That was in 2005. Now, the IRS has come after Microsoft for all the taxes it evaded through the gambit, demanding that the company pay it $29 billion. What's more, the courts are taking the IRS's side in this case, consistently ruling against Microsoft as it seeks to keep its ill-gotten billions:

https://www.propublica.org/article/irs-microsoft-audit-back-taxes-puerto-rico-billions

Now, no one expects that Microsoft is going to write a check to the IRS tomorrow. The company's made it clear that they intend to tie this up in the courts for a decade if they can, claiming, for example, that Trump's amnesty for corporate tax-cheats means the company doesn't have to give up a dime.

This gambit has worked for Microsoft before. After seven years in antitrust hell in the 1990s, the company was eventually convicted of violating the Sherman Act, America's bedrock competition law. But they kept the case in court until 2001, running out the clock until GW Bush was elected and let them go free. Bush had a very selective version of being "tough on crime."

But for all that Microsoft escaped being broken up, the seven years of depositions, investigations, subpoenas and negative publicity took a toll on the company. Bill Gates was personally humiliated when he became the star of the first viral video, as grainy VHS tapes of his disastrous and belligerent deposition spread far and wide:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/09/12/whats-a-murder/#miros-tilde-1

If you really want to know who Bill Gates is beneath that sweater-vested savior persona, check out the antitrust deposition – it's still a banger, 25 years on:

https://arstechnica.com/tech-policy/2020/09/revisiting-the-spectacular-failure-that-was-the-bill-gates-deposition/

In cases like these, the process is the punishment: Microsoft's dirty laundry was aired far and wide, its swaggering founder was brought low, and the company's conduct changed for years afterwards. Gates once told Kara Swisher that Microsoft missed its chance to buy Android because they were "distracted by the antitrust trial." But the Android acquisition came four years after the antitrust case ended. What Gates meant was that four years after he wriggled off the DoJ's hook, he was still so wounded and gunshy that he lacked the nerve to risk the regulatory scrutiny that such an anticompetitive merger would entail.

What's more, other companies got the message too. Large companies watched what happened to Microsoft and traded their reckless disregard for antitrust law for a timid respect. The effect eventually wore off, but the Microsoft antitrust case created a brief window where real competition was possible without the constant threat of being crushed by lawless monopolists. Sometimes you have to execute an admiral to encourage the others.

A decade in IRS hell will be even more painful for Microsoft than the antitrust years were. For one thing, the Puerto Rico scam was mainly a product of ex-CEO Steve Ballmer, a man possessed of so little executive function that it's a supreme irony that he was ever a corporate executive. Ballmer is a refreshingly plain-spoken corporate criminal who is so florid in his blatant admissions of guilt and shouted torrents of self-incriminating abuse that the exhibits in the Microsoft-IRS cases to come are sure to be viral sensations beyond even the Gates deposition's high-water mark.

It's not just Ballmer, either. In theory, corporate crime should be hard to prosecute because it's so hard to prove criminal intent. But tech executives can't help telling on themselves, and are very prone indeed to putting all their nefarious plans in writing (think of the FTC conspirators who hung out in a group-chat called "Wirefraud"):

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/03/big-tech-cant-stop-telling-on-itself/

Ballmer's colleagues at Microsoft were far from circumspect on the illegitimacy of the Puerto Rico gambit. One Microsoft executive gloated – in writing – that it was a "pure tax play." That is, it was untainted by any legitimate corporate purpose other than to create a nonsensical gambit that effectively relocated Microsoft's corporate headquarters to a tiny CD-pressing plant in the Caribbean.

But if other Microsoft execs were calling this a "pure tax play," one can only imagine what Ballmer called it. Ballmer, after all, is a serial tax-cheat, the star of multiple editions of the IRS Files. For example, there's the wheeze whereby he has turned his NBA team into a bottomless sinkhole for the taxes on his vast fortune:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/07/08/tuyul-apps/#economic-substance-doctrine

Or his "tax-loss harvesting" – a ploy whereby rich people do a "wash trade," buying and selling the same asset at the same time, not so much circumventing the IRS rules against this as violating those rules while expecting the IRS to turn a blind eye:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/24/tax-loss-harvesting/#mego

Ballmer needs all those scams. After all, he was one of the pandemic's most successful profiteers. He was one of eight billionaires who added at least a billion more to his net worth during lockdown:

https://inequality.org/great-divide/billionaire-bonanza-2020/

Like all forms of rot, corruption spreads. Microsoft turned Washington State into a corporate tax-haven and starved the state of funds, paving the way for other tax-cheats like Amazon to establish themselves in the area. But the same anti-corruption movement that revitalized the IRS has also taken root in Washington, where reformers instituted a new capital gains tax aimed at the ultra-wealthy that has funded a renaissance in infrastructure and social spending:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/06/03/when-the-tide-goes-out/#passive-income

If the IRS does manage to drag Microsoft through the courts for the next decade, it's going to do more than air the company's dirty laundry. It'll expose more of Ballmer's habitual sleaze, and the ways that Microsoft dragged a whole state into a pit of austerity. And even more importantly, it'll expose the Puertopia conspiracy, a neocolonial project that transformed Puerto Rico into an onshore-offshore tax-haven that saw the island strip-mined and then placed under corporate management:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/07/27/boricua/#que-viva-albizu

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

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/13/pour-encoragez-les-autres/#micros-tilde-one

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

[the-midnight-blooms]

violet crazy | jyh

pairing: psycho!jeong yunho x wife!reader AU: yandere au, modern au word count: 14.5k warnings: yandere themes, violence, sexual assault, strong language mentions of: alcohol, substance abuse, paranoid schizophrenia, abuse, neglect. (mc and side characters are referred to by their surname, not forename, apologies for any grammar errors)

masterlist

There must have been a divine current in the air that subdued her to fall in love with Jeong Yunho. An ethereal essence that led her to sway into the forsaken lands, a push that had lured her into the forbidden depths of his insanity. For he was a deceitful soul, born with an angel's face wrought with the heart of a devil. It should have not surprised her, when had men ever been purely good beings?

Despite his obviously charismatic demeanour, affirmed by the long bridge of his nose, the smooth curve of his plump cheeks, his pink lips and wide-brown eyes feigning curiosity and innocence. Or his evidently tall stature, and pleasant airs, attractive smile: he was very much a deceitful man. So much so that when Jue first glanced her eyes in his direction; as his wife she found herself reminiscing ignorance and dismissal. If only she had not given into his toxic wiles. If only she had not succumbed to him.

He's a thing of beauty, a being crafted from the essence of light; an angel drawn from the depths of heaven. It was enough to get drunk on his illustrious beauty, falling in love was a sin. What ghastly misdeed had she committed that she had been conserved to such punishment? What crime of her past life was she now paying penance for? It must have been something bleeding with horror that Jeong Yunho had chosen her to be his dutiful subject.

They stand outside the library, the cool wind tousling his soft hair as he pushes the thin-rimmed glasses up the bridge of his nose. Her arms wrap around herself to keep herself warm, her jacket is too thin and worn to do the job anymore. Myeong stands with her, his classmate from law school, whilst he's standing with San and Yeosang. Yunho is supposed to be arguing with Yeosang about how Psychology is a science, he's almost tempted to give up with his eyes tightly fixed on her.

"Jue would agree with me." Yeosang pompously declares, huffing as he shoves his stethoscope into his bag. Typical STEM student narcissism, though he stares at his best friend in confusion. He's heard that name before but can't help but think where he's heard it. "The girl you've been staring at like a weirdo for the past five minutes, did you think we didn't notice?" San and Yeosang snicker at him, shaking their heads as they call for Myeong. Myeong sends San a look of disgust as she ambles over with her friend he's only caught a few times in passing. He thinks she's gorgeous but Yunho's too bashful to pluck up the courage to talk to her.

Her heart flutters at the sight of him clad in a formal blue shirt and tailored black trousers that completely juxtaposed San’s casual wear. Though right now, Jue is not sure if she is supposed to hate him as Myeong hates San to the core right now. It's something like he's her academic rival and for the past semester San has been scoring higher than her.

“Fuck you, and fuck your 89%.” Myeong scolded, she's not even sure why she bothers with him anymore. It's Yeosang, the middle-man, who's practically stuck, choosing between the two of his friends.

“Myeong, it’s one percent, goddam it. It’s not the end of the world.” But nobody could understand how succeeding was exhausting. Pouring herself over textbooks and questions on late nights, eating less so there would be more time to study, spending hours in the library and feeling terrible for time not spent revising. In all fairness, it was the end of the world for Myeong. Baring her teeth, the law student is dragged away by San, conversing in a heated argument. Yeosang disappears in less than a minute too, claiming he's late to Clinical Skills, but not before quickly embracing her. In the end it was just herself and Yunho who, tentatively, follows after as she sits under the large oak tree.

"Hi, I-uh." Yunho stuttered over his words as her doe eyes stared up at him. "Can I sit next to you?" He asked hopefully, heart palpitating violently in his chest. After nodding her head, dubiously, he slumped to the ground next to her as if there wasn't enough grass, or enough benches stretching out for miles awaiting for his graceful figure to bless the earth beneath his feet. It was silent between them as they intently stared at their respective friends fighting.

“I feel like I’m watching a K-Drama." She stated, breaking through the abrupt air as they both pulled out their lunches from their bags. Flickering her eyes towards him, she sought a delightful grin form across his beautiful features.

“Sponsored by Subway.” He joked presenting his subway sandwich as if it was a trophy. Giggling, she shook her head huffing as Myeong looked at San disinterestedly. "It's honestly so stupid, both of them. They both think they're better than everyone else." Humming in agreement, Jue subtly directed her gaze to him again tired of the occasional chirping of crickets rattled in her ears.

"Would you agree Psychology is a science?" Her head snaps towards his, mirroring the leaning in of his own head. A smirk falls on her lips, she loves this question.

"No." He's stunned, scowling as he realised it's two against one and San refuses to give his opinion on the topic; he left science a long time ago. "Science is a study of the natural world. Psychology is composed of biology but is not raw science it itself." He ponders her argument for a second. Her look reads one of a victory, happily munching away at her sandwich, as Yunho is rendered completely silent. Though he can't tell if he has just given up with arguing altogether, there was a figment within him that told him to bow to her every word, follow her every lead as if she was the beacon of light guiding his way through the darkest of tunnels.

There was also something so celestial about Jue that stemmed deeper than her quick wit. It roots were deeper than her undeniable beauty, there was a fragment of her which magnetised Yunho’s frenzied soul. Every remnant of him desired her in a way he had never desired for anything before. Faithfully, he believed she was born to be plastered by his side so as he sunk to his knees in Mass he prayed for his omnipotent God for her and her alone. She admired him too, though she didn't fail to notice how the smile on his face would falter when she laughed with San or playfully ballroom danced with Yeosang.

Jealousy, perhaps. Maybe he likes me.

After all, a little delusion didn't hurt anyone.

In the dull autumn evening, the streetlights began to flicker as the days became shorter. The laughter of children could be heard down the street as they escaped from the shackles of hell (school), dashing towards their homes. Studying in the autumn and winter months was particularly exhausting. With the sky losing its colour too quickly, no one wanted nothing more than to crawl home to their beds and slip under the covers. A false irritability roamed through her, as Yunho dragged her to the derelict convenience store off-campus as a big man like him needed as much food as he could get his hands on. There's an assignment due in two days, an exam in about two weeks with so much content and dealing with a demanding six-year-old and fifty-something-year-old is difficult.

Yunho also wants to know why all the kids at the local infant school think that she’s the mother of their favourite classmate.

"Oh, probably because it's just me, my younger brother and my dad. Mum left a while back, she has two boys now. I think?" She explained to him, as he couldn’t help but let his inquisition get the best of him.

"Why did she leave?" He asked softly, staring down at her under the dim lights of the convenience store. The delicate hum permeated into the solemn air, replaced by a sense of dismissal; Jue shaking her shoulders with disinterest.

"I don't know, she just didn't like us. I still see her around, Mum lives close to the university, actually." He wanted to follow her to ends of the earth as she aimlessly traipsed along the length of the aisle. "I still talk to her, help her around the house, steal her concealer." A sad smile painted across his features, the urge to just enamour her in his arms. God knew she deserved to be held in such a sincere way, that for the first time in her life she wanted to be held in a way that didn't feel like her skin was on fire.

“You’re really pretty.” Yunho blurted out.

Oh.

A faint blush tickled her cheeks as his ears heated red with embarrassment, the sudden proclamation instigating her to suppress a fit of laughter.

“Ok Yunho, what do you want? Help with statistics?” Her fingers danced across the aisle of packaged goods, each too expensive for her to buy. In a desperate attempt to avoid his stern gaze, she searched for the cheapest price tag.

“I’m being serious, you are very pretty.”

“I’m not Myeong pretty.”

“No you’re not.” She had no reason to be offended at that, it was a cold, hard fact that she had just accepted growing up. Myeong had always been the one boys wanted to talk to, be friends with, take out on dates and invite to parties. Jue had just been her quiet shadow that one would occasionally acknowledge. 'Oh, you're here too' as her friend tries to instigate them to include her. “You’re prettier. Smarter, yes she works hard but you work harder and at times I feel like it’s selfish that she overlooks that. You care a lot, maybe even too much, about other people more than yourself. So, you don’t have the right to stand there and say that you’re beneath her when you’re not. You’re on another plane that even she can’t reach.” His words had stunned her to the core, a quietude fell amongst them as his literature sunk into her skin her gaze tore away from the price tags to him. Her eyes brimmed with a sense of validation and adoration. Yunho stood firmly opposite her, his words were like a sworn oath he would take with him to the grave.

“Thank you. Nobody has ever said that to me before.” Her gratitude was sincere, bestowed from the depths of her heart and laid at his feet as if he was an emperor of ambitious lands and she was his follower.

“Well then they must have been blind. Because heaven knows how gorgeous you are.” With a breath lodged in her throat, she held tightly onto the shelves to stop herself from falling straight into his arms. To stop herself from pressing her lips tightly against his, to stop herself from devoting her life to him.

A weak soul she was, for she did it anyway. His touch softened the symphony of yearning trembling through her bones. The yearning that stemmed from years of neglect, all of the pent up love but nowhere to project it. Her knight, her lover, had arrived from distant lands to soothe the persisting ache of her vulnerable soul. When he went down on his knees, it took her less than a second to say 'yes', for she had already granted him every fibre of her being and became his dutiful supplicant upon a single sight of him.

Mr Jeong, a respectable criminal defence lawyer spent a majority of his time either in the office, or in the court of law, came home always around half five in the evening. Whereas his wife, Mrs Jeong (née Jue), worked as an engineer designing and processing equipment for manufacturing chemical products. She'd arrive an hour earlier on his command. The couple were a diligent pair, preceding their reputations as the best workers in their industries. After a long day of living up to their employer's expectations, Mrs Jeong came home to dreary night of living up to her husband's expectations.

Mrs Jeong couldn’t believe it took her to marry Yunho to realise how suffocating he really was. It took her too long to realise, his innocent face was a mask; beneath it lay a vicious, malformed creature who was self-conceited, rude and dissatisfied with those around him. Though it was particularly hard to prove, especially to herself at times. There came a period of love woven in between his callousness in such a subtle way that had her believing she was deserving of his aloof behaviour. Nights where he'd kiss away her tears, hold her hand and make promises to never lash out at her again. Now, three years into their marriage the fine line between his anger and love became so blurred that each pernicious trait went overlooked. There was also the notion of children suspended in the air, that she had tried her hardest to avoid, which her husband was constantly earnest to bring into a conversation.

They both slumped onto the sofa, the whirring of the television emptied into the room as he ran his slender fingers through her. Soft sighs and sweet hums permeated the restraint of their married home, despite its air of suffocation there was a paradoxical sense of amenity in the idea that they were there for each other.

“What do you think about a few children?” Yunho inquired, staring intently as she gradually shifts the position of her body to face him. Holding back a weary sigh, her fingers trace over the bridge of his nose, the smooth curvature of the soft cheeks and his sharp jawline.

“Define ‘few’.” She teased; he pursed his lips, in thought, as if he had never spent an endless number of nights thinking about it.

“Like two, three? Hell, we’re stable enough to have as many as we want. It’s up to you of course, you’ll be carrying them for nine months at a time.” His fingers drew to her stomach, gliding up and down the surface of the silk fabric, like there was a child settled in there waiting to meet its father.

“I don’t know if I’m ready for children yet.”

“What are you so afraid of?” Resting her forehead on his shoulder, his hands wrapped around her waist, pulling her deeper into him; his larger frame enveloping her.

“I don’t know—what if I’m not a good mother? I was barely raised by my parents, and I didn’t do a good job of taking care of my brother, either.” Her reason was valid, yet Yunho’s persistence had made her feel that she wasn’t mature enough to understand his wants. It was ruthless, in its own sense, for she understood him in profound ways that even she couldn’t understand herself.

“That wasn’t your choice. This is your choice.” He was wrong. This wasn’t exactly her choice either, if it was up to her, they would wait a little while longer—even if it was just a day to herself to truly think about their future together. Mrs Jeong hummed to fill the empty space, her thoughts flooding with memories of her brother and their childhood. Sure she fed him, clothed him, took him to school, helped him with his homework but at the end of the day, he still did not become the man she hoped he would be. It was if that was a testament to how poor of a mother she would be. “Do you know how much it hurts, seeing everyone live the life I’ve always wanted, while I’m questioning if my wife still has feelings for me?”

“Is this not the life you wanted, with me? There’s more to life than being fucking parents.” Reaching for the cushion beside her, she threw it against his head. “You’re not even mentally stable enough to treat me like a human being, god knows what a child means to you.” Wrangling away from his grip, his wife stalked out of the room, the slam of the bedroom door reverberating off the narrow hallways of their home.

The afternoon light had dimmed, significantly, the sun dropping into the sky to be replaced by the moon. Her eyes had wavered, opening and shutting, occasionally, as an obscure sense of guilt tugged at her. Perhaps she should have not been so crude, there were many more sincere ways to reason with Yunho however- at times- he seemed heedless to her concerns. It was always what Jeong Yunho wanted and never his wife. She couldn't really put her finger on how, or why he changed, it just happened so drastically. The door creaked open, her wide eyes fixing shut as he sauntered in the room. With the bed dipping beside her, he lifted up the covers to shuffle by her side; pink lips moving closer to her ears.

He knew she wasn't asleep.

“Don’t hit me again, even if it’s with pillow.”

“It’s not like it hurt you.” She grumbled, dragging the comforter over her shoulders, a surge of warmth glissaded over her body. A discontented sigh escaped from his lips, snaking his arms around her waist he nestled closely against her, the heat from his body radiating onto her. On instinct, her entire figure shifted to embrace him closely within her arms.

“Oh, are we friends now?” He teased, gently lifting her chin so she could bore her eyes into his.

“You’re my personal radiator. Nothing else." He grinned, as her fingers nimbly ran through his hair.

“I love you so much, darling. I just wish you tried to understand me.” Humming into his chest, her eyes fluttered to a close falling deep into a peaceful slumber within her lover’s arms.

Once again, she’s met by the voicemail machine, huffing to herself as the crisp autumn air comes to grace her again. Standing outside her office building Mrs Jeong waits for her husband to pick her up; phone in hand trying desperately to reach out to Yeosang, their psychiatrist friend. He had become a lot more reserved upon beginning his new job as a doctor after completing five difficult years at medical school. Such was expected, they knew his hours would be long and exhausting though with psychiatry being his chosen speciality, they expected him to slightly return back to his sociable ways. Mrs Jeong hadn’t spoken to Yeosang in about three months and she was worried now.

After seven 'o'clock in the evening, she's settling their ironed clothes in the wardrobe, her husband in the living room on the gaming console. Momentarily, his grunts of agitation and loud groaning annoys her but Mrs Jeong is so used to his borderline childish behaviour that she dismisses the actions over her shoulder and persists with the house chores. The buzzing of her phone, immediately, tears her away from her duties in a hope that her childhood friend has returned to her call.

"Jue?" His voice is so timid and wrought with fear, her heart lurches in her chest. Rattling with anxiety, she settles the phone putting it on speaker.

"Yeo, what's wrong?" It's all so sudden. The way he erupts into a fit of sobs which empties out into the derelict bedroom, a sound she thought she would ever hear in her life. "Yeo, talk to me dear." She urges, her soft tone gently easing him out of his melancholia.

“I love you, Jue. I love you so much, I don't know how to stop." The beating of her heart had ceased, any moment now she'll be taking the Angel of Death's hand, joining her brother in a land far away from this world. "I spent so many years wishing that you wanted me too, but I’m no one in comparison to Yunho. He’s taller, more handsome than I-,” His words all bled together, body rattling as his wailing fails to stop. Yeosang sits in his bedroom, curtains draw and the lights off ready to sink into another world.

“Yeo, you are perfect in your own way. You're funny, clever. I have nothing but adoration for you." Her reassurances are menial, sycophantic, her friend thinks.

“I am a fool. A broken, drunken fool to think you’d want me.” She can't even get a word in before he continues to ramble, he just wants to speak. She just needs to listen. “Of course, there’s this girl at work that really likes me. But she’s exactly like you, I talk to her and all I can hear is the sound of your voice. She looks like you, thinks like you. Perhaps it’s the version of you that would have been mine if you’d never met Yunho.” Her eyes well up with tears, realising why Yeosang had become so withdrawn from everyone. A small piece of her imagination flickers to what her life would have been like if she never met Yunho or even married him. It's still a pretty dream but one she finds hard to fully forge and it breaks him. Her body shifts around finding Yunho paralysed by the doorway, full tears pool in his eyes.

"One last time, I love you Jue. I always have and maybe I always will until my last breath." Large tears slip down Yunho's cheek, his palm slaps to his mouth holding back the grieving dissonance of pitiful sobs. The line cuts, her phone is discarded somewhere as she reaches out for her husband but he ignores her grasp moving towards his bed. At the foot of the bed, his body racks in agony as he bawls his heart out to the moon.

“So this is why you don’t want children. You really don’t love me anymore, you’re going to leave me for Yeosang.” Crawling on the bed to him, her arms wrap around his neck rocking him back and forth.

“No, Yunho. You misheard, he said he loved me, but I didn’t say I loved him. My heart only belongs for you, dummy.” His wails are distressing, prolonging over a vast period of time, her heart waves in anticipation that he’ll never see her the same again. “There’s no me without Jeong Yunho, baby. Come on, stop crying.” His cries falter for a few seconds, collecting himself whilst he nuzzles deeper into her hold.

“You still don’t want my children though, do you?” He peers up at her through his long, wet lashes, cooing at his pouty face. Her lips travel down his face to ease him of his pain, before her arms circulate around his neck.

“Of course I do, I just want there to be you and I for now.” Tugging him under the covers with her, his hands mildly roam over the surface of her skin, lips a tease as he pecks so slightly. Their mouths move in sync, the sanctified synchronisation proves their understanding of each other. He knows her in such a way, he plans a response to her next movement as he pushes his body so he is hovering over her. His lips plaster chaste kisses down her neck, fingers playing with the hem of her shirt; her soft moan consumes him. With a growl, he snakes his hand under her shirt as a ripple of goosebumps litter her skin. His wife is oblivious to his next move, he’s done this before and retracted later. It’s only when he’s moving closer to her cleavage, a breath hitches in her throat at his unfaithfulness.

“Yunho.” She squirmed under his touch, feeling trapped under his body. “I don’t want to.” She breathed out, the cold circulating over her as the hem of her shirt hitched up.

“Please. For me.” He presses his lips to hers once again. As if that was any consolation for his indecency, any justification for him throwing his body over hers leaving her captured under the emblem of his own desire.

The stars scape across the night in the landscape of the dead, a fragile soul awakens in the aftermath of his despotism. Her heart lurches out of her chest, feeling the aches of his vulgarity inflicted upon her.

It must all be a sick joke.

It’s a joke, the way the moonlight streams in through their velvet curtains forging a halo around his slender body.

Reeling away from him, she slipped out from under the covers, picking up remnants of her modesty from the ground beneath her. A demeaning silence fulfilled the sombre atmosphere as she trudged to the bathroom, the light shattering the fabric of her dignity.

Hot water spurted from the shower head, as she weakly slathered the soap over her body before grabbing the loofah from the stand. Violently, she rubbed the sponge over her skin, scrubbing hastily in all the places where his touch had lingered upon hers. Scrubbing in all the places where she had felt like a clay pot indented by fingerprints before it could be hardened; moulded by his barbarity. But no matter how much she cleaned her skin, even until it littered red and flakes began to peel off her arms, even when it lacerated—blood boiling as she itched and plucked her neck; it wouldn’t remove feeling of his tender touches burning her. The water could dissolve the soap off her body, the sponge could be rinsed clean, the room could be scrubbed, windows opened, but the memory could not be eradicated. The memory of her begging him to stop and under his reticent command she was rendered subservient. His toy to play with, his doll to admire. Sinking to her knees, her hand slapped against the cool marble; figure convulsing as pained teardrops slid down her cheeks.

A woman’s body belonged to her own, it was to be forged from the roots of her femininity, whether it was to express her sexuality freely or maintain a figure of modesty. It was a not a man’s to hold or to control. Here, he had torn it ruthlessly from her grip, claiming that it was his, all his, as if when she had been bound to him in matrimony it was her body she was giving to him and not herself. Those vows. Those wretched vows he’d spoken at the altar, they were just bewitched lies glossed over by his insatiable beauty.

‘But you belong to your husband, he is entitled to each and every part of you.’ The old wives would say. Yet, a woman’s words are weak, a single plea, a cry, a laughter can so quickly be obscured by his own.

Just this once, hear me, my love.

I just wanted you to hear me say: No.

Mr and Mrs Choi were accounted as distinguished lawyers in the court of law. Whilst Mr Choi worked as a criminal defence lawyer, alongside his closest friend, Mrs Choi laboured in prosecution much to the surprise of her peers who had concluded that she'd been chasing and competing with San in his own field. Again, Yunho had been the one to prove to be much more reputable and the best dignitary in law. When they weren't advocates for justice, they came home to their beautiful daughter Choi Soo-Ah, who inherited her mother's beauty and her father's intellect.

Mr and Mrs Jeong stand outside the terraced home, constructed from red-bricks. They surpass up the staircase, the bow windows outcast over the front lawn, showing San play gently with his daughter alongside his old plushie, Shiber. Her hands raise to provoke the door knocker, where her husband leans closer to her ear.

“Just think baby, that will be us soon.” Placing a chaste kiss on the top of her head, they patiently awaited for the door to swing open. She had thrown herself into Myeong’s hold, the childhood friends squeaking and giggling like little school girls upon their reunion. Until Choi Soo-Ah comes to join them, jumping up and down herself as if she is too an old childhood friend. The old wives do say that you are carrying your child and your child is carrying hers even before they are conceived. In a comical way, little Soo-Ah has been with them for so long.

“Ach, Yunho, what’s this?” Yunho is carrying a heavy chicken dish in his hands and there’s dessert in the car that he’s careful about passing over to San who silently thanks him for saving their dinner party. Myeong’s cooking skills are pitiful, to say the least.

When they finally sat down to eat, Mrs Jeong draws herself out of conversation, reserving her attention solely to her food. For the first time in her life, she wants to scream. She wants to break down into a fit of sobs, howling until the midnight escapes from the sky, convulsing until her body begins to deteriorate and all that’s left is her husband burying her six feet under. She can’t tolerate the way his touch pierces her skin, her clothes feel too tight on her back, hair sticks to the back of her neck as beads of sweat form. Those wretched memories and lies she told him are creeping back. Walls shimmer, the shape of the spoon has somehow distorted, the food all bleeds together to form some sort of mush.

“My, you’re quiet today, brainbox.” A sheepish smile rests on her lips, at San’s comment, her eyes almost flutter close in the midst of her burdening exhaustion.

“Parenthood seems to have taken a bigger toll on you than your wife, San.” She goads, leaning back in her seat. Yunho’s hands draw closer to her own. Her eyes flicker, but they are dams holding back a flood of emotions that are threatening to fall. San laughs, it’s so natural that she envies him for it. She hates how in love he is with Myeong and would never force her to anything she doesn’t want to.

“Soo-Ah is a daddy’s girl.” His fingers raise to tickle his daughter’s cheek who giggles, revealing a dimple on her left cheek. Yunho has dimples too but they’re only really prominent when stress overtakes him and he loses too much weight.

"Has anyone spoken to Yeo? It's honestly almost like he's dead." Myeong jokes, a breath is lodged in her throat calculating what the next best word to say is. But her mind is spiralling out of control, because it was that tragic day when Yunho depravedly ripped her apart.

"I spoke to him the other day, he's doing ok. I've been meaning to get back to him but I haven't had the time." In truth, she's been calling Yeosang at least four to five times a day, spamming him with messages. Sometimes she even pounds on his front door when she knows he will be at home. Heaven knows, a flicker of a shadow has crawled across the floor, receiving her presence but he ignores her like she did to his feelings. They sit there, knowing its incomplete without all five of them.

Stood by the Choi family household's doorway, Yunho slips on his shoes his wife loitering behind him.

"Are you sure you want to stay here for so long? I'll miss you." His pout no longer makes her heart throb with reverence. The sight of him repulses her, the tsunami is rising high above the waves, there is no longer a fragment of her that would breathe at his will. “I love you.” His declaration reverberated of the walls in the foyer, the beating of her heart paused momentarily. It felt too quiet, as San’s dimpled smile behind them, Soo-Ah’s wide eyes and Yunho’s longing gaze rested heavy on her figure. As if they were all awaiting for her to say the words back to him. Her face heated with the pressure, which one would have mistaken for a love-sick blush.

“I love you too.” Love. A word that didn’t hold any meaning anymore, what even was it? She once thought she knew what love meant, after all, love was Jeong Yunho. Love was waking up beside him every morning to his groggy voice and a fit of kisses. Love was dancing to songs in the kitchen, chasing him through the park but failing because of his long legs. Love was discussing remnants of the future together, not forcing it to happen within a single beat. Love was him. Was. Past tense, something long gone to the wind and would never return.

"I don't know if something has happened to you, but it's almost as if you've completely shut down." They sit on Myeong's bed as both her husband and daughter have skipped down to the park. Her eyes outcast from the window, the bare branches of the trees sway with the billow of the window, the leaves drift across the pavement as a few pedestrians stalk down the street in their work attire. The Choi's neighbourhood is so full of sophistication, its enough to make her domestic village seem inferior. Her head turns to meet her friend's concerned eyes, prevailing as if she is so eager to make her way through the labyrinth of struggle Mrs Jeong has been plunged through. "Did Yunho say, or do, something to you?"

Tears well up at the front of her eyes, the pace of her breathing quickens, everything has blurred so suddenly. A malicious monster has plunged his hands to her lungs, suffocating her airways so much that she cannot breathe and is denied the pleasures of living. His slender fingers lodge in the lumen of her airpipe, mouth locked in place all that escapes her are muffled cries. Chains ensnare around her legs too, tightened she cannot even as so much move her leg a single inch. A voice is attenuated at her ear drums, the tumultuous tides have rushed into the shore, sweeping her body into the vast expanse of the cerulean sea. Her anguished roar saturates the room, much like the water filling into her lungs.

"He-he-" Her voice stammers so pathetically, her arms wrap around herself because a touch of another will just kill her. "He hurt me. I said no but he wouldn't stop, he just kept on going. I said, please but he wouldn't stop." Her head falls onto the pillow and she just gives up allowing Myeong, and Myeong alone, to embrace her. The cry is no longer so silent, no longer expressed in the loneliness of her married home when he is not there to hear her. It is spoke in a house where the notions of absolutism do not exist. It speaks to Myeong's soul, watching her cry is a nightmare for she had never seen any other emotion other than happiness on her face.

"I can't go back. Please don't make me go back to him." She wails, gripping onto her forearms as if any moment now, he would tear through the walls and yield her back into prison.

Slumped on the leather sofa of Myeong's office in her home, as the lawyer ardently works through reads of paperwork and emails. Little Soo-Ah’s body is draped over her own, her small chest rises up and down, soft snores escaping her. On maternal instinct, her arms wrap around, holding her closer. There’s a poignancy in the idea that this is what she could have had, had he not forced it upon her.

"We have TRO-temporary restraining order for up to two weeks until a full trial is scheduled. The judge needs more information. You are aware that Yunho can make an appeal to get his restraining order revoked, right?" Chewing down on her lip, she nods, knowing that things will only get much worse from here.

The Magistrate’s court is where all court cases begin, even sexual assault cases. It’s when the suspect pleads “not guilty” that things get messy, and it’s established as “indictable only” that cases are handed over to the Crown Prosecution Services. Jue is even surprised that it’s taken a few weeks to reach the trial; normally cases like hers take months upon months. Yet what hurts the most is that for the second time she reads out aloud her statement and it’s almost like she’s begging to the judge for mercy. As if they are the ones who can cure of her this ailment.

The court room is cold, is really all she can think about as she avoids her husbands deceived gaze across the room. Jue knows that if she looks into his eyes, even once, she might feel pried to take back all that she has set against him. She doesn’t live with him anymore, she moved as quick as she could to a women’s hostel—the feeling of living alone terrifies her.

“A work convention? So soon?” His eyebrows furrow in confusion, he doesn’t quite believe her but there is nothing from the tone of her voice or body language that suggests she is lying.

“Yes, dear. About a week?” He snakes his arms around her waist, inhaling in her scent.

“You’ll take the pregnancy test, won’t you? God knows how much I want that baby.” Ignoring the pounding of her heart, she nods eagerly, cautiously pressing her lips to his soft cheek. “Fuck, I love you so much.”

There’s a number of officials, including a circuit judge and a jury of twelve members of the public all awaiting for the case to start. The defence lawyer is yet to walk in.

The wooden doors swing open, following a gust of air as a pair of shoes click against the floor. The prosecution follow their eyes across their shoulders, Myeong’s heart stops beating for a second.

Her husband stands there in all his glory, their eyes meet in a quick second before he dips his head sitting next to Yunho. She cannot her believe her eyes, yet the same way she would protect her friend with her life, San would fight Yunho’s case for as long the blood ran through his veins.

The war begins.

Mr and Mrs Choi both prepare succinct, detailed opening speeches for the court. In cases like sexual assault, there needs to be a sufficient amount of evidence for the perpetrator to be punished. In marital rape, it’s a lot more difficult and is categorised under domestic assault. It’s her word against the court, and god was it difficult for Myeong to pull something together.

It seems like this wasn’t the case for San and Yunho, for when he presents his opening speech deeming his client isn’t guilty and his argument begins, he has the physical evidence Myeong was scrounging for.

"The defence argues that Mrs Jeong’s appeal extends from her ongoing paranoid schizophrenia. Here, we have a letter of diagnosis issued on the 12th September, three years ago, by Dr Park Taeo, working for the Light Goeul Medical Foundation." San dropped a folder in front of the judge, a copy handed to Myeong who flips through the folder at a rapid pace.

“The defence would like to call Dr Park Taeo to the stand.” A man of average height with jet black hair ascends to the stand. He is clad in a smart suit, but Jue furrows her brows. She had never seen or met this man before. Granted, at one point Yunho had her meet a counsellor for her 'feelings' (an old woman who retired and had just passed away last year), yet there was no 'Dr Park Taeo' she had ever spoken to. Her lips move closer to Myeong, whispering words of defence.

"I have never met this man before. I don't even know who he is." Taeo is sworn in by the bible, pledging to the tell the whole truth and nothing but the truth.

“Could you inform the court of when you had first met Mrs Jeong, and what exactly had led you to believe she had paranoid schizophrenia?” San interrogates, he musters all the courage he can to avoid his wife’s gaze for he feels her stare burning holes in his back.

“Mrs Jeong came into my office on the 22nd of February, three years ago. She told me her husband had requested her see someone as she was particularly suffering from hallucinations, so seeing things that weren’t there. Hearing things. Delusions, withdrawing herself away from her family and friends. I also recognised a particularly disorganised train of thought, she stumbled over her speech.” Her heart stops in her chest.

22nd February. The same date she first saw her counsellor.

“And these are all symptoms of schizophrenia?” San provokes, to which Taeo nods followed quickly by a verbal confirmation. “Could you tell the court of her delusions?” The doctor sucks in a deep sigh, typically there’s ‘patient-confidentiality’ at play which is inherently discredited in the court of law.

“She perceived people were trying to hurt her. Usually it was people she was working with, sometimes it was her husband.” Jue squeezes her eyes shut.

That fucker.

“Can you elaborate?”

“Mrs Jeong stated, and I remember this so boldly: ‘Sometimes I feel that he doesn’t love me for any other reason other than to use me, or that I am of some value to him. Sometimes I feel he may hurt me, or is the wrong person to protect me from danger.’” A hand slaps to her mouth, her fingers squeezing her lips. Her heart palpitates in her chest, hastened breaths escaping her.

It’s exactly what she said, three years ago, to her therapist.

“What makes you say that?” Mrs Go’s soft voice is a dream, a melody dropped from the banner of a celestial plane. Her attitude eases the incessant pulsation of her heart.

“I wonder when he sees my scars if he loves me. Or when he hears of my past, that I am still the same woman he is in love with.”

“Why would any of that stop him from loving you?” Mrs Go never took notes. That woman had an impeccable memory, she wrote things down after the session, claiming her clients required her undivided attention.

“Men don’t like broken things.”

“Was there anything you believe could have been the cause of her condition?” Her ears have mellowed out San’s voice, she cannot bear it and it’s hard to avoid Yunho’s gaze now. She stares at him, though there’s no longer a betrayed look that settles in his eyes. A glimmer of triumph, a paint of melancholy.

“Yes, particularly her childhood is the main factor. Her father was a raging alcoholic who engaged in substance abuse. Her mother left him for that reason. His erratic behaviour eventually transgressed into acts of physical violence which he inflicted on his daughter and son. I believe Mrs Jeong’s brother—,” Her chair scrapes across the floor, she stumbles her line of sight blurring. There’s a mixture of voices and faces, they all wanting something to do with her. She wants nothing to do with them. Before she knows it, a spread of darkness fulfils her vision.

“I must look like a fool for fainting in court. That screams guilty straight away.” She breaks the silence in Myeong’s office, her body draped across the plush sofa. Her friend simply hums tightening her gaze across the spread of sheets littered upon her desk. Darting her eyes across the room, Myeong looks as deceived as Yunho did. After all, it’s her first time hearing any of this and despite her friend’s pleas that the diagnosis was never true—Myeong doesn’t know what to believe. For the first time since law school, there are dark circles under her eyes as she hasn’t gone home to sleep in a long time. Soo-Ah is with her grandparents and she doesn’t have the strength to face San. “I-my father did beat me.” Jue confesses, but the words splutter from her mouth. Disorganised, as Taeo would state. Passively, she gets up from the sofa, taking off her jacket revealing the t-shirt underneath.

Her arms are scarred, several indentations seem like streaks of white paint over her skin. None have faded, and they’re all relics of her past which seem like trophies of wars she has fought. Myeong has seen similar bruises, scars and wounds on victims of domestic violence; she may have never gone through it herself but seeing it in others is what prompted her to be a lawyer. Knowing that her friend was suffering whilst she was training to be an advocate is like a blow to the heart.

“How did we never notice?”

“Lots and lots of my mother’s concealer. Long shirts and jackets even in the summer…” She trails off feeling herself want to collapse. “I just—never expected him to use it against me. I confided in him, and he creates this lie that’s enough to close this case.”

“It’s absolutely boiling out there and you’re wearing a hoodie?” Yunho scolds as he rifles through their wardrobe, hands running through the hung fabric. They’re all long sleeve shirts, turtlenecks, jumpers and nothing with cropped sleeves. “I’ll have to give you one of mine.” He takes out the white shirt, slipping off the hanger before handing it to her. Her hands reach out, slowly, a fear striking through her heart. What if he sees those scars and doesn’t love her anymore? Muttering her thanks, the hoodie is replaced by the t-shirt. Yunho has noticed straight away, within an instance he’s on his knees whilst she bawls under his inquisition.

“We’re going to fight this, I’ve got evidence to prove he’s a fraud and this whole thing is fake. Second, I’ve called Yeosang in. We’re proving to the court you’re sane.” Jue just hopes there’s no bitter feelings amongst them; not after she completely disregarded his feelings in light of her husband’s.

The shatter of glass against the wall sent a jolt through her; the fragments bounced off the surface splitting into all corners of the living room. The black, leather sofa is pushed forward so she can squeeze her body through the tight spot. If she stays here long enough, he’ll eventually give up and leave. But she’s as wrong as she’ll ever be because when Mr Jue is drunk, he is the most persistent man on earth.

“If you come here now, then I won’t hit you.” Lie. He was stood by the doorway, blocking the exit to her bedroom. His body swayed from side to side, heavily intoxicated; having spent two weeks worth of food on a shit ton of alcohol and drugs in one night. “I can wait all day.” His low voice sending a wave of fear over her. Taking in a deep breath, she darted towards the space between his body and the doorway, wrangling away from the harsh grip of his greasy hands before scrambling up the steps. He pounded up the staircase behind her, hands outstretched for her legs, jerking her down, forearms slamming into the piercing edges. A cry escaped her lips as his elbow pummelled down on her head, his iron fists gripping her hair sending a violent punch through her head, the pain rattling at her core.

“That’s what we’ve got to do to clever bastards like you, go straight for the fucking head.” He snarled, throwing her body against the staircase. Where’s your brother?” He questioned, darting up to the stairs. Plastering her hands over her ears to drown out the sounds of his screams, tears soundlessly poured down her cheeks until the shrieks reverberated mercilessly through her head and she darted up to his bedroom.

“That’s enough, stop!” Her bellow carried over the expanse of the bedroom, her younger brother on the floor cradling his face in his arms.

“My own fucking children are ganging up on me now.” He cackles, mercilessly and she’s on the lookout for the Grim Reaper. But she doesn’t see him and she’s disappointed. The sight of him is better than the sight of her father. “Your mother was a dirty whore! She wanted fucking kids and then left me to deal with them. I didn’t even want you!”

“Tell me something I haven’t heard before.” He scowled, deprived of the energy to lash out again at her stumbling out of the door; slamming it behind them. Sinking onto the floor, her arms outstretched to encircle her brother into her—his body crawled in. Rocking him back and forth she ran her fingers through his hair as he sobbed pitifully into her chest.

The Jue siblings have been physically abused for as long as they’ve lived. Every morning the eldest child wakes up her brother, washes him, and applies a layer of concealer over his bruised skin. Then he wears long sleeve shirts, or a short-sleeve with a jumper on top, before being fed breakfast and taken to school. He is eight years old and doesn’t understand why he’s thrown against the floor like a rag doll. Often when he sees the father of his classmates hug them after school, he’s confused. So he asks his sister who’s only rendered silent as they eat dinner in her room behind a locked door.

Jue can’t tell him it’s his way of loving, because she doesn’t want to prepare her brother for a lifelong relationship of abuse. He deserves to know what love feels like, he just knows a bit of love is his sister staying hungry so he can have the last slice of oven pizza. He knows that a bit of love is her sneaking chocolate cake out of events so he can get a treat after dinner. Or her saving up from her measly wages so she can buy him a toy he’ll treasure forever. But he’ll never know what paternal love is.

Nobody knows of their secret. It’s something she’s forced her brother to not open his mouth on. If the teacher asks where the bruise came from, say you fell over. If the teacher asks where daddy is, say he’s at work. What about mummy? The truth. Mummy doesn’t live with us anymore.

(Mummy doesn’t love us.)

Myeong never knew, nor did San or Yeosang. No matter how deeply rooted Yunho’s infatuation was: he never knew either. Not until after they had married and he’d seen the scars on her body.

Having no maternal figure was awful for her, especially on days where she needed to rest and she physically couldn’t move her body from the bed. Her father storms into the room, he’s in his work attire but she knows he’s had one too many drinks from the pub on his way home from work. It’s a wonder how he’s never been sacked yet.

“Get up.” He roars. “What are you laying down for? Lazy bitch.”

“I can’t get up.” She croaked out.

“Get the fuck up.”

“I can’t.” She whined, groaning loudly as she pushed up her body from the bed. A scream erupted from her lips as he gripped her by the hair to drag her out of her room, her lower abdomen pummelling a wave of agony through her. He hauls her down the stairs, launching her body into the kitchen. Her figure slaps against the floor, a breath lodged in her throat as tears well up in her eyes.

“One of the men at the pub has told me you’ve been with a man. Not the doctor or specky-four-eyes.” She holds back the urge to roll her eyes, he’s only ever seen San with glasses on, she doesn’t bother to correct him that Yeosang is a medical student. “The lanky one. He’s supposed to be tall as fuck, I’m told. Who is he? Whose dick are you sucking now?”

“I’m not. He’s a friend, Yeosang’s friend. His name is Yunho.” She sits a little properly on the kitchen floor, but not up. Jue knows better than to shun her father’s superiority complex.

“What does he study?”

“Law and psychology.” He simply hums, she wonders what he’s thinking.

“Well don’t whore around with him, otherwise you’ll end up pregnant and he’ll leave you.” A breath of relief escapes her as he disappears from the first floor and enters his bedroom. She’s surprised. There is at least five objects in the kitchen that he can harm her with, she anticipates his arrival for the next fifteen minutes preparing herself to be battered by him. When he doesn’t reappear, she takes the opportunity to trudge back to her bedroom.

It was funny. Perhaps her father should have warned Yunho to not chase after her. After all, he was the one who ‘whored around’ with her and she was the one leaving him. But that’s all her past feels to her now: irony. Something to laugh and laugh like a crazed man. Perhaps her husband is right, she is insane.

Here she is, sitting opposite Yeosang in the clinic he works at. Unlike Mrs Go, he scribbles down her words as if he’s transcribing them across the page furiously with his fountain pen. When she stops speaking and a distasteful quietude fills the air, Jue knows exactly what he’s thinking and doesn’t have it in her to meet his scrutiny.

“I can’t believe you went through all of this, and never told us.” Those words she expected. “What happened to that bastard afterwards? I remember him at the wedding but what happened to him?”

“He just left of the face of the earth. I don’t know if he’s dead, or in jail or just shit faced in another city. Doesn’t matter, I won’t forgive him for what he did to my brother.” Wiping her nose, the scrunched up tissue is shoved back into her pocket; she peers at him through her lashes as Yeosang stares at his sheet.

"Well, the good news it that you're sane. It is normal to suffer as you have done and still be 'sane'. You've created a somewhat healthy coping mechanism to be relatively unaffected. Any history of mental illness in the family?" She shakes her head. There's just a history of abuse after abuse but somehow they've all managed to be escape the grasp of mental illness. For a minute she wonders if she ever had a child and if they would be the one to break. "Good. I'll pass this along to Myeong and I'm more than happy to testify."

"Thank you, Yeo. Are you ok? You didn't respond to my calls." He takes off his glasses and throws them to the side, his face falling into his palms as a long groan emits from his lips.

"I'm fine, I'm sorry I burdened you with what I said the other day. It was merely a moment of weakness." But it wasn't. It took him all the strength that laid within him for every moment it roamed within, it felt like his organs were being toxified.

"But did you mean what you said?"

"Yes. Without doubt."

In the middle of the biting winter, she shoves her fists into the deep pockets of her trench coat; as her heels click against the steps up to the court. Thank goodness the building is warm, she makes her way down to the room, the security guards are familiar with her now—after all her case seems to never end. Meeting Myeong outside, Jue gives San a curt nod as the couple engage in a private conversation.

A figure clears his throat from behind her, her head turns to find her husband loitering awkwardly by the double doors. His eyes are slightly tired, face sunken. He’s lost weight, so much so she can see the dimple his healthy face hides.

“Have you been eating?” She confesses, the words escape her before she can suppress them.

“Yes, my mother has been taking care of that. You?” She nods, though it is false nonetheless. Eating, sleeping, living is a luxury. All she can do is breathe and sometimes even that comes at a price. "You look like you've lost weight." She shrugs, perhaps she has. She's never neglected herself this much in her life, there's nothing to live but for freedom now. A spectral silence is suspended in the air before the door swings open and they are allowed into the court room. Myeong hooks her arm around her own, they walk in leaving their husbands behind.

There’s a quiet chatter as the prosecution lawyer discusses a few matters with her assistant. It’s tense at the moment, their witness has not arrived yet and session is about to start.

“Counsellor?” The judge prompts, all the eyes fall on her. Jue quickly texts Yeosang underneath the table but the message isn't received on his end.

There is no Yeosang.

Myeong's heart flutters with dejection, her face heating up as she feels the burning stares of tens upon tens. Her fists ball at her sides, her sharp eyes digging Yunho's grave.

"The prosecution would like to call the defendant, Jeong Yunho, to the stand." Ignoring the small murmur, Yunho is sworn in by the bible before he seats himself to be questioned. San narrows his eyes, flickering his gaze to Jue. The prosecution only speaks up after a few beats of silence.

“How long have you known Mrs Jue and how long have you been married for?” He pauses. Mrs Jue. As if she didn’t tear her father’s name away from her own the second she married him.

“I have known her for five years, and we’ve been married for three.”

“At what point did she begin to display manic behaviour?”

“Four months after we married. I suggested she went to see a psychiatrist.”

Lie.

“That’s funny, Yunho. Here, it states. She went to see Mrs Go, a psychotherapist—not a psychiatrist—on the 22nd February.” She picks up her folder, holding the receipts Jue managed to find in her folder. “You do know there’s a significant difference between a psychotherapist and psychiatrist, right?” He snickers, cocking his head to the side. It’s the small flickers of his egotism that roams within him, infiltrating into the cold, court room. It’s there and gone, as if it only belongs for his wife to see.

“I’m a psychologist by background, I think I know better than most people, Mrs Choi.” Myeong’s chilling laughter reverberates through the room, his eyebrows crease. A sentiment of annoyance.

“So then tell me the truth, Yunho. Who did she see on the 22nd February. Was it Mrs Go or Dr Park Taeo?”

“Dr Park Taeo. We didn’t need to see a therapist when it was a diagnosis she was seeking.” The folder is thrown onto the table, her hands rest on her hips, digging into the crevice of her cinched waist. A long, deep sigh.

“Seeing as though you’re a psychologist by background, what are some of the treatments available for schizophrenia?”

“Medication, cognitive behavioural therapy, there are care plans in place as well.” Yunho’s brown eyes move to his wife, her eyes tear away from his as quickly as she can.

“There are no medical records, not even on her past medical history that states she was ever on medication, such an Olanzapine. It doesn’t even state that she is schizophrenic, but for arguments sake: she is. If she was really was batshit crazy, wouldn’t you as a loving husband ensure she is under the correct medication? Wouldn’t she have made these allegations before but in order for her to make such a statement: wouldn’t you have had to have done something to prompt her?” Myeong sucked her a deep breath, her chest heaving in anger. “There’s nothing from her childhood that can even do so much as enable her to conjure such a thought. Yet you, her husband, a man who has continually emotionally blackmailed her throughout your marriage— is the man she deems has hurt her the most. Tell me, Jeong Yunho, what did you do to her? Tell the court what a vile man you are.” His bottom lip quivers, pearl tears welling up in her eyes.

“I would never hurt her. I love her too much. She didn’t go on medication because she refused to.”

“Bullshit! She was never offered medication from that fraud.” There's a slight warning from the judge on her language but Myeong will say all the profanities in the world if it means provoking her enemy.

“I never touched her without her say, even if it was to hold her hand. If she said no, I backed away within a second. You can’t force someone to go on medication, Mrs Choi and she is not ‘batshit crazy’ she is ill. All I ever wanted was for her to get better.”

“There is no illness, Yunho. Look.” Waving a piece of paper in front of his face. Before handing a clean folder to the judge. “Dr Park Taeo isn’t real, your honour. There was no illness to begin with, other than a surmountable amount of childhood trauma—which in several cases doesn’t always resolve to mental illness. I have a report from Dr Kang who carried out her psychological examination, proving this statement. Unfortunately he could not make it here today. Might I add, you, Mr Jeong was her her anchor in the entirety of your marriage. And you, had ruined that by assaulting her, a man who, may I also say, is a man of the law.” Her shaking hands run through her hair, San knows she is on the brink of collapsing. Her face has thinned significantly, Myeong hasn’t eaten; it’s why she’s reached this far in the case.

A pearly tear slips down Yunho’s face, glossing the curvature of his plump cheek. His body wracks with prevalent cries and the court is stunned by his vulnerability. His wife sucks in a painful breath, God he knows where it hurts her the most.

“Why did you do it, Yunho? Hm? To feel powerful?”

“I object, your honour. Question leads to speculation.” San rises from his seat, raising a questioning brow at his wife.

“Objection is upheld.” The judge agrees, yet Myeong has exhausted all that she has to say. She knows that if Yeosang was here with them, her argument could have been made stronger.

The homes on her street have stood still, like a broken clock whose hands don’t move as time steals by. It seems the very essence of the wind has defied the laws of nature—the leaves do not bustle in the winter air. Myeong sits alongside Jue, in her kitchen, Soo-Ah plastered on her hip as she stirs the steaming pot of food under her friend’s careful instruction. San is at his parents’ home, unwilling to stay in his house as he ferociously fights the case against his wife.

Mrs Jeong is at her table, the computer screen blaring at her. Too tired to continue, she gathers all of the diagrams compiling them into a neat stack before packing everything up. Everything feels too normal, it’s as if she isn’t fighting a brutal case against her husband. The TRO has ‘expired’ and she never bothered to get it extended knowing that at the end of the day, it will be a divorce she gets from her husband.

“I try to reach out for him, in my dreams, before I realise that he’s not the same man I fell in love with.” She blurts, the attention of the women in front immediately moves to her. Myeong watches her friend stuff food into her mouth at the kitchen table; her eyes glistening with tears, body wrought with exhaustion spending sleepless nights roaming the hostel and long days at work staring into the dull screen. Days at court, days at Myeong’s home, avoiding the ghost town where their home used to be. “I realise that I want him to hold me again, and pretend he didn’t ruin me the way he did. Sometimes I wish I never said anything, then at least I would have had someone.” Her friend’s eyes litter with empathy, though it feels so sadistic in an other-worldly sense. How can a woman in a secure marriage understand her? Biting down on her quivering lip, she refrains from letting out the sobs that have clogged up her throat. Painful sounds are released, her teeth grind against each other as her body lurches forward.

"J--," Her hand is held up to censor her friends movements, she has done this before on several occasions at the hostel. Nights curled up on the floor, suppressing a fit of miserable emotions. She doesn't need any of this, not now when her lover is long gone.

Kang Yeosang is officially missing; the local community searches for him when they get a chance. Though his best friend has spent the last few weeks trying to track down his location. After he psychoanalysed Jue, he remained in his clinic until 1700 hours in the evening. He arrived at his home at 1738 hours, information given by the courtesy of his neighbour. Nobody knows anything after that.

She can't help but go back to his house, maybe there's something there that can tell them where he's gone. The old neighbour walks outside to throw away the bins, when she catches Jue, Myeong and Soo-Ah roaming in his front yard.

"Excuse me!" Jue calls out. "I don't know if I remember me, but I asked about Yeosang a while back." Gesticulating to the front door as if she might remember, the old lady does. Nodding, she gravitates to the garden wall.

"Yes. I do. The poor boy hasn't been found yet, has he?" They shake their heads. "I think I forgot to mention, there was a man that passed by his home a few times. I think they may have been friends." Myeong meets her friend's eyes, urging the woman to continue talking.

"Ah, he was very tall, wore glasses and a suit almost every time he was here. He was here the same day he went missing." She pulls out her phone, rushing to her camera roll.

Pressing her phone to the older woman's face, "Was this the man, by any chance?" The neighbour nods, profusely. "Why didn't you tell us earlier?" She snaps before grabbing Myeong's hand leaving from his lawn.

It was Yunho.

She is sure of it. There is no one else in the world that would possibly want to hurt Yeosang more than him, for what reason: she can only speculate but pieces of her mind refuses to jump to those forbidden thoughts. Mrs Jeong is once again stood in Myeong's kitchen as the lawyer paces up and down her kitchen aisle.

"Well San says he left his house a while back, he's not at your in-laws." She doesn't even want to reach out to her mother-in-law, they know of the court case and probably hate their daughter with every fibre of their being. "Maybe he's at that summer home you have?" Myeong suggests. That's exactly where he is, but with no substantial proof they can't exactly storm in with the police or a search warrant. Besides Yunho is incredibly intelligent and resourceful, as if the court case isn't a testament to that already.

"Don't do something stupid like walk into his house. He's fucking dangerous at this point." She scolds knowing Myeong's stubbornness holds no bounds. The lawyer holds back a scowl, not long before she redirects the words back at her. "He won't hurt me, if he wanted to this fiasco would have been over a long time ago."

Yunho is mirror image of Mr Jue, his father-in-law. She has become her mother, running away from him except she has not left him with two young children.

"Amma, where are you going?" The younger version of herself stands by the doorway of her parents' bedroom as Mrs Jue profusely shoves the clothes into her bag discarding the hangers onto the floor.

"Baby, pick up the hangers from the floor will you?" Her mother orders, and obedient-her listens earnestly, placing the hangers inside the small ironing basket. She repeats the questions, to which her mother pauses in her actions to look at her daughter. "I'm just going to my mother's. Alone. So don't pack your bags. You'll be ok taking care of your brother, won't you?" She's still so eager to attain her mother's validation so she nods as if handling a young child is the easiest thing one can do.

How could she have not realised that her mother was leaving for good? It's not until her younger brother passes away that, at the funeral, her mother's wild cries boil her blood. There's something like a spurt of anger brewing within her as the jarring dissonance cripples her ears. Yunho is stalking after her as she saunters over to her mother.

Her hand raises, striking a harsh blow against her mother's cheek; there's a pin drop silence in the room. "How fucking dare you. As if you were his mother, you cry? You left us." Her voice cracks, Yunho's hand rests on her shoulder pulling her back towards him. "You left us and you're crying as if you raised him? You may have given birth to him, but I was more of his mother than you have ever been!"

Soo-Ah will be raised with lots of love, she knows that much. Mr and Mrs Choi's love is too strong to be torn apart by Yunho, no less. There's no need to be envious, a poor love is hereditary something that the Jue's are undeserving off. That's ok with her, she is last of them. There will be no more of them.

The front door blasts open, her grip on the handle of the knife tightens as a figure charges down the hallways through to the kitchen. San's clothes fit loose on him, hair dishevelled and with a flushed face he meets her stare.

"Where is she?" He demands, lifting his daughter off the high chair, holding her smaller frame closely against his body. As if she is anything like her husband and will harm her too.

Myeong left her home at 0900 on Tuesday morning, entrusting the care of her child with her friend. Jue has been taking care of Soo-Ah, taking a few days off work but when she doesn't arrive home by 1730; something is deeply wrong. She called everywhere including her office, San and his parents and in-laws.

Like Yeosang, Myeong is nowhere to be found.

"Do you know where she may have gone?" Jue slumps down on the chair, sucking in a deep breath.

"Yunho's. The summer home we have." He gives a look of pure confusion, that his friend cannot help but feel sorry for him. As intelligent as he may be, he is also incredibly oblivious. "Open your eyes now San, Yunho is not who you think he is. He's a goddam psycho."

"But why would she drive two and a half hours away from here, to your holiday home?"

"We believe he's the reason Yeo is missing. His neighbour said she saw Yunho on the same day Yeosang went missing." Pieces of the puzzle have now been put into place, San can envision the big picture now; he just wishes he listened to his wife when she scolded him for taking on the case. His heart palpitates within his chest, cursing himself for endangering his family.

"I'm going to go pay him a visit and you're going to listen to every word I say."

Their summer home is just of the coast, maybe two miles away from the beach. Regardless it stands in all its glory, with a large porch circulating around the home-it's antique salmun doors had been replaced for contemporary ones, panelled windows outcast the front lawn. In itself the driveway is a massive field with a pavement large enough to carry a vehicle up and down it. It's serene, at any time of the year yet its a 'summer' home because Yunho always drags her down there when the sun peaks at its highest. A low grunt and she rolls of the drivers seat, eyes scanning over San's message before she makes her way to his front door.

Yunho has already noticed her, settling down the book on the coffee table before dashing to the door to swing it open.

"Jagiya." He breathes out, it feels silent before she ambles in staring at him before taking of her shoes. Mrs Jeong knew she had to face him but she doesn't really know what to say now that she's here. Yunho seats himself on the sofa, motioning for her to do the same. "Why are you here?" He doesn't bother to ask how she knew he was here, his wife isn't unintelligible.

"I wanted to talk to you. But now that I am here, I don't know what to say." Her profession stuns him a little. Mrs Jeong always knows what to say. It's one of the things he loves about her.

“I always imagined you and I and a little toddler. Just the three of us." His eyes squeeze shut, she feels the urge to wrap her hands around his slender neck and wrangle him until he drops dead. How is her body the only thing he cares about?

“I could never give you that, Yunho. I believe that there is another woman who can give you the family you want.” Yet the plain truth is that he doesn't deserve to remarry and have children. He will just hurt them. He will suffocate them, the same way her father suffocated her.

“No but you could have. You’ll give another man exactly what I wanted.” Oh god. The incongruity. He took away Yeosang and Myeong, she wonders who is next. He will take away the next man that even so much as blinks in her direction.

“There won’t be another man after you, because it took me to fall in love with you to realise that I wasn’t brought on this earth to be a wife or a mother.”

“If you weren’t born to be by my side then God would not have listened to my prayers. He wouldn’t have listened to me when I went down on my knees and begged for you.” Gulping the lump in her throat she blinked back the tears holding in her eyes. "I really do love you, it just hurts me that you made this false allegation against me-," Raising from her seat she rushes towards him, glaring down at him in fury.

"Let's not begin with false allegations when all you did was lie in court. I fucking said no. God is my witness. I loved you more than you ever loved me, and you broke that by treating me as if I was your doll." Tears well up in his own eyes, he simply says nothing slouching further in his seat. With tiredness, Jue leaves the room, analysing the setting before her eyes fall on the basement door. "I'm going to the bathroom." He hums, picking his book back up as she carefully slips down to the cellar.

The lurid scent of damp perfuses the atmosphere, gentle steps descend the staircase where a dim light floods into the room. Her heart is heavy in her chest as she makes her way down, a warning sign that she is not going to see something she likes. The basement is small, with a low ceiling that she knows has her husband crouching down as he enters, its concrete floors and grey walls are unsettling.

Gripping her lips with her fingers, she sinks to the floor holding back an ear-splitting scream as two limp figures sprawl over the floor in a puddle of dried scarlet blood. Tears flood down her cheeks, a low hiss escapes her as she crawls towards the masculine figure. His face is almost unrecognisable, beaten to a pulp with a split lip and swollen eyes. His long hair is rumpled, his own saliva and blood sticking the oily strands to his neck.

"Yeo." She chokes out, his unresponsiveness deconstructs her. Resting his head on her lap, her tears drop onto his face bleeding into his own; he can just about make out her face through his weak vision. Her howls increase by an octave, but his hitched breaths diminish her by the second. "Please. Say something so I know you're here." He says nothing. Yeosang just breathes.

Until he stops. There's a beat of silence. Then another. She waits with some false delusion that he will breathe again, but he does not. A shriek, and the cellar door erupts open Yunho pounding down the steps. Her head whips around, launching of the floor she swings her body at him but he holds down her fists with an iron grip.

"You monster! You bastard! How could you?"

"You said you loved me more than I ever loved you, how could that be true when I killed someone for you?" His voice is so mellow it disgusts her. He speaks as if he did not take another life. "Nobody is allowed to love you but me." Shaking her head, she parries against his strident grip, launching a brutal punch against him. An annoyed look floods his face, he holds his ground stalking towards Myeong's limp figure.

"Let her go. This is between you and I." She orders. Yunho simply scoffs, grabbing a water bottle-draining its contents across her face. Myeong squawks for air, as she jolts away from her unconsciousness, drops of water dribble from her lips as she tries to strengthen herself.

"And this one. This witty, little bitch." He grips her hair, yielding her closer to him ignoring Myeong's cries. "She really tried to fuck me over. It's a shame that she's never been better than me at any point in her life." He bends down to Myeong's level, drawing his lips to her ear.

"You're good. But you're not better than me." His taunts irritate her, and she squirms, ferociously, in his hold yet it pains when all he seems to do is rip her hair from its roots. His wife's howls fall deaf at his ears, a look of pleasure fills his features. A cruel blade departs from his pocket, holding it close to Myeong's neck. "What do you say, baby, get rid of her too? All she's doing is separating us."

“YUNHO. PLEASE.” His knife draws close to Myeong’s throat dancing on the surface of her skin. “I’m pregnant!” His head snaps up, his grip on the knife almost falters. It's a long shot, but she knows how to hurt him.

“What?”

“Yes.” She chokes on her sobs. “I’m having our baby, so please don’t hurt Myeong. Then our baby won’t have an auntie and Soo-Ah won’t have her mother.” He drops the knife, stalking towards her in a few single strides. His pale hands rest on her cheeks, tilting her face so she is looking at him.

“How long have you known?”

“It’s been a week since I’ve known, but I’m 8 weeks along.” He holds back a cry, he’s a fucking monster. A second ago he was ready to take Myeong’s life. Her face is tightly fixed in the palm of his hands as he peppers kisses on her forehead, down the bridge of her nose and finally on her lips. She allows him, just this once, to roam his hands around her body. “Just leave Myeong.” Yunho is so sure that there’s a patter of footsteps behind him, yet his wife’s hands drag him down her neck deeper. His soul is completely intoxicated by her essence, there is some figment that has him so utterly devoted to her.

Her heart pounds, incessantly, against her chest as she storms down the hospital hallways ignoring the burning stare of the clinicians and nurses. It’s not long before she skids into the emergency ward—pummelling towards the end of the room.

Her brother is lying on the bed, so weak and helpless she cannot help but cry out for his ruptured soul. He does not deserve this. He did not deserve every minute of torture he was subjected for every second he was alive. His small lips form her name as he barely sees through the slits of his eyes.

It’s her baby, after all.

His body is cradled in her arms, repressing tears. There is something so inhumane about the way his body is butchered, the depth of the lacerations astound her—as if they were trying to cut down to his bone. His staggered breaths send a wave of fear through her heart.

“Who did this to you?” Her whisper, low enough for him to hear.

Dad.

A silver blade ruptures tissues, indenting the skin. Blood bursts from its banks like a scarlet river flooding through the ghost town, he grunts; breath hitched in his throat.

“Before you, there was my father. Before him, was me.”

“My darling daughter! What brings you here?” He slurs, sliding down the wall. Her hand shakes as she screams at him, her ears are deaf. Jue doesn't really know what she's saying to him other than a plethora of vulgar words that she deeply despises.

"How could you hurt him, you fucking bastard!" Her bellow carried over the humid atmosphere, her father barely snickers. It is a gift from god that he is intoxicated. But a curse from hell that his daughter has been brought to his doorstep, in a fit of frenzy. "You have lived to hurt us long enough."

The knife in her hand is not unfamiliar. The way it has dragged under supple skin is not new. She has done it in a time before, Yunho is unbeknownst to this as he sinks to his knees clutching his abdomen, a roar erupting from his lips. His wheezes infiltrate the atmosphere, but his wife is quick on her feet as her arms outstretch for Myeong—eyes widened in shock. Is she an accomplice to this crime?

"Come on!" She shouts, panicked their footsteps launch up the basement staircase, an attempt to escape onto the upper floor in a haste. The door handle rattled, profusely, in her harsh grip yet the door won’t budge.

Fuck.

Their hastened breaths quicken in a deep panic, before a quick thought rushes to mind. There's a hidden tunnel that leads out. They run past Yunho's frail body, ignoring his threats she summons all of the adrenaline she has before pushing past the massive wooden door covering the exit. An ache grinds at her muscle but as her husband raises from the floor she flocks out of the basement in a frenzy.

The smell of the hallways is enough to make them nauseous, but the magnetic force of apprehension is stronger that all they can do is run whilst he chases after them. The end is in sight, the door at the end is always open; seeing as though Yunho could never find a builder to fix it shut. All of a sudden, something sharp drills through her leg, a distressing yelp escaping from her. Groaning she falls to the floor, a metal rod from the unattended copper pipes has obstructed her path.

“Run, Myeong! RUN!” She screams, cradling her leg; a torturous wave of pain lays within her; enough to render her paralysed. His pounding footsteps quicken behind them, grunting heavily as he limps down the hallways to them. Myeong’s movements falter slightly but she dashes through the door leaving it open as she darts through the open field.

A cool gust air blesses her bruised skin, she has never ran this fast before in her life. A sense of guilt resides as she ponders if her friend will make it, yet the car in the distances rips away that thought. It’s San’s car and she clamours his name as loud as she can.

The coolness floods into the narrow passageway, grappling onto the copper pipes for support she staggers feebly towards the exit, the metal rod inserted in her leg weighs her down. Each step is like walking on a million shards of glass, it’s as if coal sizzles under her skin. Was she born just to be in pain?

“Nae sarang, come back. You’re only going to hurt the baby.” The tears draw in her eyes, tickling the edge of her jawline before they clink onto the earth below. The sound of his voice lingers too close to her ears, beckoning all her might she stumbles faster towards the exit breaking out into a run.

Screams expend from her, she doesn’t care to refrain them as she bolts down the fields where Myeong is in San’s arms. There are shackles tied to her feet, the force of gravity is strong.

“Come back here right now!” Yunho roars into the wind, as if they bow to him they stop to let his voice circulate the atmosphere. She will not return to him, she would rather die. Her heart savagely crushes against her chest—phlegm clogs her throat. Pain gnaws at her. Why does the distance to San’s car seem longer than it should be? She shrieks his name while Yunho calls after her.

I’m so tired.

Her knees drop down to the earth beneath her feet, chest hurling with exhaustion. The vast fields are met by an excruciating howl; enough to shatter her voice box. With fingers gripping around the locks of her hair, tears endlessly cascade from her eyes—she’s begging for the Angel of Death to take her away. So much so as her head hits the earth, she speaks to its entity.

“Amma! I can’t do this anymore.” Because what does a child in pain do when the world turns against them? Nothing more than call out for their mother. There’s nothing more left for her to do. She can run to San with a metal rod prodded through her leg. Chances are: she won’t make it when Yunho can easily outrun her. She can stop here and allow her husband to consume her, force her to give birth to a child she does not want.

Or she can turn the weapon against herself. What can go through the leg can go through the heart, right?

Her head whips around to meet Yunho’s stare. There’s no anger, there never is any when he’s looking at her. He’s slowed down in his path, arms nimbly outstretched for her.

“Come back to me, baby.”

In the valley they run, the grass tickling her feet as she dashes across the landscape. A melodic laughter escapes him, like a chorus sung by angels. She’s always been fast at running but it’s never been a chore; it’s a joy to skip through the meadow at lightning speed. The sun illuminates their figures, nobody but them for miles and miles.

Perhaps this is what death feels like.

Or this is what death should be, for now she knows how her fate should resume.

All Right Reserved © the-midnight-blooms

DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, REPURPOSE, OR PLAGISRISE ANY OF THE WORK HERE

'Jue' of chinese origin, stems from 'zhou' 'Soo-Ah' meaning butterfly 'Myeong' meaning bright or clear

A/N: please do NOT romanticise this piece of work, it addresses heavy issues. if you have ever been sexually harassed/assaulted by your s/o (or ANYONE), please report it!!! just because they’re your husband/boyfriend e.t.c doesn’t mean that they’re allowed to be let off the hook! I wanted to write this fic because I’ve-first hand- seen the exploitation of female bodies to establish male superiority. take care of yourself and know your worth, I know it’s difficult to speak out against someone who you’re supposed to love but you’re worth much more than that. i hope you enjoyed reading this, it was a little difficult to write but I believe it’s a fic that’s been worth writing.

big thank you to @poartz-writes for hyping me up during this writing process

let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list for any future fics I post!

tag list: @n0v4t33z @potatos-on-clouds @jjongwho @barbielibra

[molsno]

god, what happens next is so good. the character writing is just spectacular. it fascinates me just how much depth there is to each character and how that contributes to the story.

milo's dni is the most revealing thing about him, and it's the very first thing we hear from him:

right off the bat, we can see what kind of person the protagonist is. he's a pastel softboi trans man who clings to a childish aesthetic to appear weak and non-threatening. despite being involved in a toxic relationship with another trans guy who attempted to rape and kill an 11 year old girl when he was a teenager and later murdered his girlfriend, which milo helped with by dismembering her corpse, he puts "pedophiles and unhealthy pairing shippers dni" on his carrd. which, ok, maybe he wants to distance himself from people like griffin now - except that's not really true, because he talks to, moves in with, and regularly hangs out with a serial killer fan who idolizes griffin and is even dating the guy while he's in prison. he puts "being against neopronouns" and "anti-otherkin" on the same level as those things. he explicitly denies any responsibility in the murders of haylie and savannah, despite having literally chopped haylie's arm off. all the while, he has "you deserve to heal" in big bold letters, while not applying that belief to anyone but himself.

right from the start, it's obvious that milo is not a good person. but he's also humanized throughout the story. sure, some of his softboi persona is a means of victimizing himself to avoid taking responsibility for what he did - and you could make the case that he was a victim in some ways. on the other hand, he also never got to grow up because he spent 5 years in a psychiatric institute. is it any surprise that he clings to the same aesthetic, interests, and hobbies he had when he was 15? he never got to stop being a kid, and how is he supposed to now? he didn't graduate high school, he can't get a job, and nobody wants to be friends with him because of what he did. it raises uncomfortable questions - namely, what happens next? milo served his time for the crime he committed as a minor. he was already punished, but now he has to live the entire rest of his life. what is he supposed to do?

that, I think is the most interesting part of this story. almost every character in this story makes it hard for you to like them, but they also have very human reasons for doing the terrible things that they do. I'll talk about some of my favorites under the read more, but be aware that there will be spoilers:

claire is one of the most interesting characters to me, just because of how unlikable she is.

when we first see claire in victim impact statement, she tries to ignore haylie, griffin, and milo as much as possible. she doesn't even seem to like her sister. she treats haylie as a nuisance for coming into the room that they share as sisters. she doesn't want to go to the open mic night to listen to haylie play her ukulele. when she finds haylie bawling her eyes out in the bathroom at anime central, she just looks away, as if to say "you chose to date your shitty boyfriend". when she hears haylie and griffin fighting upstairs, she just pretends not to hear it. when haylie is curled up in terror later, claire puts on headphones and turns her back to her. her headphones become a way of drowning out haylie's screams when griffin is around, and because of that, she doesn't hear haylie screaming for her life, and ends up finding her corpse in the kitchen.

that's why I don't find it surprising at all that she becomes an outspoken transphobe who wants to take her anger out on the trans people who murdered her sister. she goes to media events and publicly degenders milo and griffin. she calls aaron's friends trannies. I think it's easy to misconstrue her as a terf, but she literally doesn't even pay lip service to feminism. how could she? she knew that her sister was being abused by her boyfriend, and she did nothing. let me remind you that she lives in a house where "smash the patriarchy" is embroidered on the wall. she doesn't care about any of that. she just wants a scapegoat. she wants to make the law impose harsher punishments on minors who commit violent crimes because she doesn't know what else to do with her life. she very clearly hates herself, becoming an alcoholic to cope with her guilt. she pretends to care about haylie and fight for this law because it's the only way she can convince herself she's a good person, even though she can see that doing what she's doing is turning everyone against her.

and then that brings us to audrey. it's difficult to like her, too, because she's dating claire despite all of the horrible things she's doing. but at the same time, I can see where she's coming from. her mother died of cancer and she and all of her other black siblings were adopted by conservative christian white parents. she's still christian to this day, and makes a point of separating herself from "criminals" by insisting that she has nothing to do with them because she goes to church and takes care of her family. she doesn't want to disavow the law that claire worked so hard to pass because at the end of the day, it won't affect her personally, even though she is aware that the justice system disproportionately punishes black people. she very clearly has a lot of internalized racism, and I think that's best exemplified in the way she draws herself. despite having pretty dark skin in real life, she draws herself as light skinned as claire, her white girlfriend:

like, it's hard to like audrey, but you can clearly see why she's made all of the decisions she has! she idolizes claire because it's her first lesbian relationship. the way she sees it, claire can do no wrong. audrey does actually seem to be aware that her girlfriend is doing terrible things, but she essentially just plugs her ears and tries to ignore it. that's why she doesn't go to claire's campaign events. she ignores all of her girlfriend's flaws because claire is essentially her savior. because she has claire, she doesn't have to go back to her family, to her abusive alcoholic white father. she doesn't have to actually take care of her younger siblings, which is a responsibility she's foisted off unto mark. that's why she ignores that claire is just as much of an emotional drain as her father. she's highly depressed, she's an alcoholic, she trashes their bedroom (leaving audrey to clean up after her mess), she puts up an emotional wall and dismisses audrey's attempts to comfort her, and dismisses audrey's own problems as being less traumatizing and less important. by all accounts, claire is a terrible girlfriend and a terrible person, but because audrey idolizes her as her savior, she stays by her side. I'm really looking forward to seeing how she reacts to claire's disappearance in future chapters.

and then of course, there's vikki. she's been doing something incredibly disrespectful for years by making true crime videos where she talks about the victims and killers like it's all a joke. she makes a video about whether ethical necrophilia is possible, and makes a callous, bitter joke that the concept of "respect for the dead" is antiquated, because nobody respects her as a trans woman of color even though she's still alive. for this comment, people have harassed her online endlessly, enough that she had to make a video called "STOP TELLING PEOPLE I FUCK CORPSES". that doesn't stop her from making a video about the murder of haylie, complete with an interview from milo. she'll throw him under the bus if it means getting the attention off herself for a bit.

and yet, I think out of everyone, I feel the most compassion for vikki. yes, she used milo for content and called him a "sad little blonde girl", but I can understand where she's coming from! like, again, she's a trans woman of color in the true crime community. she knows the archetype milo is trying so hard to be in order to avoid taking responsibility for what he did. like, I've personally seen trans women of color who are victimized by white trans men who pull the same exact shtick as milo over and over, so I completely understand her frustration. that said, she also realized she went too far and tried to apologize, only to find out she was blocked and that milo basically wrote a callout post against her. I think it says a lot that vikki was one of the only people to actually try to talk to milo, even if the way she went about it was wrong.

vikki does things that are disrespectful, but to be honest, it's not that surprising! she grew up in a 90% white town in the middle of nowhere, got assaulted by multiple white boys for being a faggot, got sent to alternative school, worked for a funeral home as a teenager, and transitioned. not only is she desensitized to death, she's angry that people revere the dead more than her.

it's astounding, really! what happens next is so well written because it makes you feel conflicted about each of its characters. what are we supposed to do with these people who do awful things? a lot of the intrigue in this comic comes from seeing how each of the characters handles this question as they deal with the other characters who have done terrible things, while they themselves are deeply flawed as well. I think the writing really forces you to contend with the idea that these are all still people, and that their humanity needs to be recognized even if they do terrible things. it makes you ask, what happens next?

[creativepromptsforwriting]

Can you do lawyer x client prompts/dialogue please

Lawyer + Client Prompts

"I would love to ask what is wrong with you, but even as your lawyer I don't think I even want to know the answer."

"You're my lawyer, you should be on my side!" "I am, but sometimes the job of a lawyer is to save a client from themself."

"As your lawyer I'm going to tell you: you are a fucking idiot."

"I didn't do it, right?" "Are you asking me if you have committed the crime?"

"Did you know that there was a camera there?" "Obviously I didn't."

"Everything you say to me is confidential." "Great, because I have a lot things to tell you."

"I would never date a client." "Then get me out of here fast, so I'm not your client anymore."

"Maybe I should close my office and exclusively be your lawyer. You definitely give me enough to do."

"You do know, you have to pay me by the hour, don't you?"

"Wow, my own lawyer doesn't believe me." "I don't have to believe you. I just need to make the judge believe you."

"I love how much you care about me." "Well, you are paying me for it."

"How... why... I mean... What is wrong with you and how do you expect me to bail you out of this?" "I don't know, you're the lawyer."

"If they say I did it, and I say I didn't, then it's he said she said and they can't lock me up, right?" "There is video evidence."

"You will not say a word. Do you hear me? Keep your mouth shut, just this once in life."

More: Lawyers AUs | Rival Lawyers

- Jana

[sunnycanvas]

Could you do a what if in unfaithful baldwin what if before she jumped into the river he managed to capture her..... this story is very good you are a great writer

Warning: depression, talk of suicidal thoughts and character death

Author strictly warns readers to proceed with caution. If you are sensitive about these topics under any circumstance please don't read further

Alternate ending

Just when I jumped into river and I was swimming towards my freedom. The knights caught me. I tried fighting hard. Hitting, punching them but they didn't even bulge and pulled me off shore. I started screaming and crying like a mad woman. I could see pity in some of them but most most had neutral expression. "(Y/N)" my husband said relieved and began approaching me. With intention to hug me but I looked back at him with such resentment that he stopped. He literally froze in his place. "Your majesty". I said coldy and I knew even though my husband was expert when it came to his composure I was able detect his tense body movement. "I know that I have committed a crime against my lord" "I know that our relationship won't go back like before therefore I ask you as a punishment I have done against crown that I be beheaded for my crime". Baldwin IV looked heartbroken at my statement and said "Chérie, do you think I would be so cruel to execute my own wife, the woman who saved my life". I laughed in pain and said "In return you killed my life, I shouldn't have saved you" "I payed a huge price I admit I regret it". I could hear gasps around me but I didn't care. It's not like I had anything to loose anyway. Baldwin IV was shocked I could see he was getting angrier but I could also see another emotion his eyes which I couldn't tell pity,sadness or fear which one is it? Baldwin IV let out a sigh and said "Queen (Y/N) you have not only insulted the crown but also wished for king's death which in eyes of law is treason and the punishment for this should execution" "However I can't forget the love and devotion you have shown to same crown and saved your king before therefore I have decided to spare you". Tears fell from my eyes when I heard the statement. "Chevalier, get the queen on top of my horse". I was seated on top of my horse and Baldwin IV with the help of his knights climbed up on the horse. I kept quiet as Baldwin held me tightly in his grip and we rode off. When we went back I saw mistress in the palace eagerly waiting for him. She smirked seeing my state and could tell by my husband's cold face that he was in sour mood. Once Baldwin IV was able to get down from the horse with help of his knights he pulled me down along with him.

"Your Grace" the mistress gave a graceful courtesy. I knew she was expecting my husband to call her in his chamber. My husband didn't even bother acknowledging her and went straight into the palace carrying me in his arms. Once we reached his room he slowly laid me down in his bed. He laid on top of me and put his face near my neck and smelled me breathing my scent "I missed you" he said.

"........."

"You know when you left like that I must admit I did feel insulted but deep down I was also hurt and worried about you"

".........."

"What if my enemies captured you, do you realise how reckless this was" "No matter how many women I sleep with I will always come back to you because at the end of the day you are my queen". "The woman who saved my life and nobody can and will take your place" "Do you understand that, I will always be your husband at the end of the day"

"........."

"Are you going to ignore me, my dear queen" Baldwin IV smiled mischievously "My queen has been rather cheeky going against me" "I knew you were rebellious but not to that extent"

"........."

Baldwin IV sighed realising there is no point now. Before he left he asked servants to bring fruits for queen. He quickly left for his work chamber. He sat down rubbing his forehead. "Chevalier" he commanded. "My lord" the knights were instantly summoned. "Tell my mistress that that she is not longer welcome in Kingdom" "She shall be exiled". The knights bowed at the command and instantly left.

Baldwin IV POV:

"If I pamper her with love and pay attention to only her then perhaps within time she shall forgive me" "I should get a jeweller and dress maker with finest material for her and spend every time free I get to be with her" "It will take time but hopefully (Y/N) and I have relationship like before ". Baldwin IV thought as he began to work. It was evening and Baldwin IV heard sounds of rain and thunder. Baldwin IV smiled remembering how much (Y/N) loves rain. "Hopefully her mood is better now". "I hope everything is alright, in case she is still hurt about our situation then I will let her go" "If keeping her with me will bring her pain then it's best we part ways" . "I should see her hopefully she is feeling better now". I thought as I went to my chamber

"(Y/N)" I called as I knocked on the door. She didn't respond. "Perhaps she fell asleep I thought" however judging by what happened today I doubt she would fall asleep. "I guess she doesn't want to see me now". I thought but for some reason I had a bad feeling about it that something is seriously wrong. "Chevalier, break the door" I commanded and my men instantly broke the door and what awaited me was far worse I could ever imagine. Inside laid my beloved wife with knife in her chest. I scanned the surrounding wondering where the queen got the knife from and saw the table with fruits inside the basket. "The servant must have left the knife with it so that the queen can cut and eat the fruits" I thought "Quick call a doctor" I commanded before I knew it. My men quickly left and I ran towards my beloved

"No!" "No!" "Why!?" "Why (Y/N)!? "Why!?". I hugged my wife and started crying uncontrollably. The doctor came and asked me to step aside I reluctantly let her go . I waited patiently with hope for (Y/N) to be alive but based on doctor's expression I could tell I was too late.

"(Y/N)"!!! I screamed as the it rained heavily with thunder defening my scream

"(Y/N)" I woke up drenched in sweat. I turned to look myself in mirror and saw my old appearance. "It was a nightmare" "It's been quite a long time since then" I thought. I slowly turned to look at the glass painting in my window to image of my beloved late (Y/N).

"(Y/N)" I said her name as tears fell down my eyes. I looked outside and saw heavy rainfall and heard loud thunder. "Just like back then" I thought. I got up and dragging my old body I went near my beloved I leaned forward and kissed my beloved's face. "The picture doesn't do any justice" "You are lot more beautiful in real life you know".

"........"

"Of course just like back then you aren't responding" "I should have known I had killed you back then moment I decided to give in my temptation" "A good follower of lord doesn't give into temptation but resists it" "Perhaps it would have been good for you if you never met me" "After you left I decided to be a good follower of our lord" "I took vow of chastity and attend church every day praying that our lord spares you from damnation of hell". Baldwin IV let heavy tears fall down his eyes as he said that, he chocked in his tears and said"For loving a leper, I was already disfavoured by lord, therefore he punished me with leprosy" "Hopefully he shows mercy to you for showing kindness to leper". I cried bitterly. I wept in front of her but it was too late. She was already gone