#popcorn carts

[bi-demon-ium]

milligan looking over the back of his shoulder in the van and counting heads: okay me, dipika, and--that's. nine? [spots curtain still drugged and unconscious in The Bag] ten. ten tickets to the barbie movie please

[heyclickadee]

Also I sort of accidentally triggered the Scooby Doo sleeper agent in me by talking about not dropping people (ie, Tech), so if I suddenly start rambling about the Scooby Doo franchise on here I am sorry. It can’t be helped.

[klarastime]

Popcorn cart.

[daiquirihiremelbourne]

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[carriesthewind]

Oh dear.

So as some of you may know, I love to point and laugh at bad legal arguments. And as fun as legal dumpster fires are when they are made by people who aren’t lawyers but think this whole “law” thing seems pretty simple, it’s even funnier when an actual, barred attorney is the person dumping gallons of kerosene into the dumpster.

And oh boy folks, do I have a fun ride for y’all today. Come with me on this journey, as we watch a lawyer climb into the dumpster and deliberately pour kerosene all over himself, while a judge holds a match over his head.

The court listener link is here, for those who want to grab a few bowls of popcorn and read along.

For those of you who don’t enjoy reading legal briefs for cases you aren’t involved with on your day off (I can’t relate), I will go through the highlights here. I will screenshot and/or paraphrase the relevant portion of the briefs, and include a brief explainer of what’s going on (and why it’s very bad, but also extremely funny). (Also, I’m not going to repeat this throughout the whole write-up, so for the record: any statements I make about how the law or legal system works is referring exclusively to the U.S. (And since this is a federal case, we are even more specifically looking at U.S. federal law.) Also, I don’t know how you could construe any of this to be legal advice, but just in case: none of this is, is intended to be, or should be taken as, legal advice.)

First, let’s get just a quick background on the case, to help us follow along. In brief, this is a civil tort suit for personal injury based on defendant’s (alleged) negligence. The plaintiff is suing the defendant (an airline), because he says that he was injured when a flight attendant struck his knee with a metal cart, and the airline was negligent in letting this happen. The airline filed a motion to dismiss on the grounds that there is an international treaty that imposes a time bar for when these kind of cases can be brought against an airline, and the plaintiff filed this case too many years after the incident.

The fun begins when the plaintiff’s attorney filed an opposition to the motion to dismiss. (So far, a good and normal thing to do.) The opposition argues that the claim is not time-barred because 1) the time bar was tolled by the defendant’s bankruptcy proceedings (that is, the timer for the time limitation was paused when the defendant was in bankruptcy, and started again afterwords), and 2) the treaty’s time limit doesn’t apply to this case because the case was filed in state court before the state statute of limitations expired, and the state court has concurrent jurisdiction over this kind of case.

I’m struggling a bit to succinctly explain the second reason, and there’s a reason for that.

You see, the whole opposition reads a bit…oddly.

This is how the opposition begins its argument, and it’s…weird. The basic principle is...mostly correct here, but the actual standard is that when reviewing a motion to dismiss for failure to state a claim (which is what the defendant filed) the court must draw all reasonable factual inferences in the plaintiff’s favor. But even then, you don’t just put that standard in your opposition. You cite to a case that lays out the standard.

Because that’s how courts and the law work. The courts don’t operate just based on vibes. They follow statutory law (laws made by legislature) and case law (the decisions made by courts interpreting what those laws mean). You don't just submit a filing saying, "here's what the law is," without citing some authority to demonstrate that the law is what you say (or are arguing) it is.

Again, this isn’t wrong (although I'm not sure what it means by new arguments?), but it’s weird! And part of the reason it’s weird is that it is irrelevant to the defendant’s motion to dismiss. The defendant filed a motion stating that based on the facts in the complaint, the plaintiff has not stated a claim based on which relief can be granted, because the complaint is time barred by a treaty. There is no reason for this language to be in the opposition. It’s almost like they just asked a chatbot what the legal standards are for a motion to dismiss for a failure to state a claim, and just copied the answer into their brief without bother to double-check it.

The opposition then cites a bunch of cases which it claims support its position. We will skip them for now, as the defendant will respond to those citations in its reply brief.

The last thing in the brief is the signature of the lawyer who submitted the brief affirming that everything in the brief is true and correct. An extremely normal - required, even! - thing to do. This will surely not cause any problems for him later.

The next relevant filing is the defendant’s reply brief. Again, the existence of a reply brief in response to an opposition is extremely normal. The contents of this brief are…less so.

Beg pardon?

Just to be clear, this is not normal. It is normal to argue that the plaintiff’s cases are not relevant, or they aren’t applicable to this case, or you disagree with the interpretations, or whatever. It is not normal for the cases to appear to not exist.

Some highlights from the brief:

Quick lesson in how to read U.S. case citations! The italicized (or underlined) part at the beginning is the name of the case. If it is a trial court case, the plaintiff is listed first and the defendant second; if the case has been appealed, the person who lost at the lower court level (the petitioner/appellant) will be listed first, and the person who won at the lower level (the respondent/appellee) will be listed second. There are extremely specific rules about which words in these names are abbreviated, and how they are abbreviated. Next, you list the volume number and name of the reporter (the place where the case is published), again abbreviated according to very specific rules, then the page number that the case starts on. If you are citing a case for a specific quote or proposition, you then put a comma after the beginning page number, and list the page number(s) on which the quote or language you are relying on is located (this is called a “pincite”). Finally, you put in parenthesis the name of the court (if needed)(and again, abbreviated according to extremely specific rules) and the year the case was decided.

So the plaintiff’s response cited to Zicherman, which they said was a case from 2008 that was decided by the 11th Circuit Court of Appeals. However, the defendant was not able to find such a case. They were able to find a case with the same name (the same petitioner and respondent), but that case was decided by the U.S. Supreme Court in 1996, and the lower court cases associated with that case weren’t in the 11th circuit either. (The United States Reports is the only official reporter for the U.S. Supreme Court, and only includes SCOTUS decisions, so it’s not necessary to include the name of the court before the year it was decided.)

Just to be clear. The defendant’s brief is saying: the plaintiff cited and extensively quoted from these cases, and neither the cases nor the quotations appear to exist. These “cases” were not ancillary citations in the plaintiff’s brief. They were the authority it relied upon to make its arguments.

This is as close a lawyer can come, at this point in the proceedings, to saying, “opposing counsel made up a bunch of fake cases to lie to the court and pretend the law is something different than it is.”

That, “Putting aside that here is no page 598 in Kaiser Steel,” is delightfully petty lawyer speak for, “you are wrong on every possible thing there is to be wrong about.”

By page 5, the defendant has resorted to just listing all of the (apparently) made up cases in a footnote:

(skipping the citations to support this proposition)

This is where I return to my struggle to explain the opposition’s second reason why the motion to dismiss should not be granted. I struggled to explain the argument, because they failed to explain why the argument they were making (that plaintiffs can bring lawsuits against airlines in state court, and the state court have specific statutes of limitations for general negligence claims) was relevant to the question of whether the plaintiff’s specific claim against the airline was time barred by the treaty. Because 1) this case is in federal court, not state court, and 2) federal law - including treaties - preempts state law. Again, it’s almost like plaintiff’s attorney just typed a question about the time bar into a chatbot or something, and the machine, which wasn’t able to reason or actually analyze the issues, saw a question about the time to bring a lawsuit and just wrote up an answer about the statute of limitations.

We also end with a nice little lawyerly version of “you fucked up and we are going to destroy you.” The relief requested in the defendant’s original motion to dismiss was:

In their reply to the opposition, however:

“The circumstances” in this case, being the apparent fabrication of entire cases. Because courts tend to take that pretty seriously.

And the court took it seriously indeed. The defendant’s reply was docketed on March 15th of this year. On April 11th:

AKA: you have one week (an extremely prompt time frame for federal court) to prove to me that you didn’t just make up these cases.

On April 12th, the plaintiff’s attorney requests more time because he’s on vacation:

The judge grants the motion, but adds in another case that he forgot to include in his first order.

On April 25th, the plaintiff’s attorney files the following:

(And he lists the cases, with one exception, which he says is an unpublished decision.)

But he says of all of the cases except two, that the opinions…

Which is…nonsense?

First of all: if you cited a case, you had to get it from somewhere. Even unpublished opinions, if you are citing them in a brief, you are citing them because you pulled them off of westlaw or whatever. Which means you have access to the case and can annex it for the court. (There are even formal rules for how you cite unpublished opinions! And those rules include citing to where you pulled the damn case from!)

Secondly: remember that long digression I went into about how to read case citations? Remember that bit about how you include the name of the reporter (the place the case was published)? Yes, cases are published. They are printed in physical books, and they are published online in databases (e.g. lexis or westlaw). If the specific online database you are looking in does not have the case, you look somewhere else. If you have a judge telling you to get them a copy of the case Or Else, you track down a physical copy of the reporter if you need to and scan the damn thing yourself. You - literally - can’t just not have a copy of the case! (Especially published federal circuit court opinions, which multiple of these cases are! Those aren’t hard to find!)

And what kind of “online database” doesn’t include the entire opinion anyway? I’ve literally never heard of a case research database that only included partial opinions, because that wouldn’t be useful.

Maybe if we look at the attached annexed copies of the cases, that might give us some answers.

...

My friends, these things are just bizarre. With two exceptions, they aren’t submitted in any sort of conventional format. Even if you’ve never seen a legal opinion before, I think you can see the difference if you just glance through the filings. They are located at Docket entry #29 on Court Listener (April 25, 2023). Compare Attachments 6 and 8 (the real cases submitted in conventional format) to the other cases. Turning to the contents of the cases:

In the first one, the factual background is that a passenger sued an airline, then the airline filed a motion to dismiss (on grounds unrelated to the treaty's time bar), then the airline went into bankruptcy, then the airline won the motion to dismiss, then the passenger appealed. And the court is now considering that appeal. But then the opinion starts talking about how the passenger was in arbitration, and it seems to be treating the passenger like he is the one who filed for bankruptcy? It’s hallucinatory, even before you get to the legal arguments. The “Court of Appeals” is making a ruling overruling the district court’s dismissal based on the time bar, but according to the factual background, the case wasn’t dismissed based on the time bar, but on entirely other grounds? Was there some other proceeding where the claim was dismissed as time barred, and it’s just not mentioned in the factual background? How? Why? What is happening? Also it says Congress enacted the treaty? But, no? That’s…that’s not how treaties work? I mean, Congress did ratify the treaty? But they didn’t unilaterally make it!

In the second case, there’s an extended discussion of which treaty applies to the appellants claims, which is bizarre because there are two relevant treaties, and one replaced the other before the conduct at issue, so only the new treaty applies? There isn’t any discussion of the issue beyond that basic principle, so there is no reason there should be multiple paragraphs in the opinion explaining it over and over? Also, it keeps referring to the appellant as the plaintiff, for some reason? And it includes this absolutely hallucinatory sentence:

…the only part this that makes sense is that the argument is without merit. I’m not going to discuss the actual merits of the legal arguments in the opinion, because they are so bizarre and disjointed that even trying to describe them would require a Pepe Silvia-sized conspiracy board. Like the previous case, both the facts and the legal posture of the case change constantly, with seemingly no rhyme or reason.

The third one…oh boy. First, large portions of the “opinion” are individual paragraphs with quotations around the whole paragraph. What’s happening there? As far as the content of the opinion itself - I can’t. I mean that, I literally can’t. What is being discussed seems to change from paragraph to paragraph, much of it contradicting. It makes the first case seem linear and rational by comparison. The court finds it doesn’t have personal jurisdiction over the defendant so dismisses the case based on a lack of subject matter jurisdiction? But also the defendant hasn’t contested jurisdiction? And also the court does hold that it has both subject matter and personal jurisdiction over the defendant? And then it denies the motion to dismiss the case? Also, at one point it cites itself?

…also, even if this was a real case, it doesn’t stand for the propositions the plaintiff cited it for in their opposition? I’m not going to go into the weeds (honestly it’s so hallucinatory I’m not sure I could if I tried), but, for example, the plaintiff’s reply brief states that the court held “that the plaintiff was not required to bring their claim in federal court.” The U.S. District Court for the District of Columbia is a federal court, and there is no discussion of any filings in state courts. The closest the “opinion” comes is with the statement, “Therefore, Petersen’s argument that the state courts of Washington have concurrent jurisdiction is unavailing.” (This statement appears to be completely disconnected from anything before or after it, so I am unsure what it is supposed to mean.)

Moving on, case number four is allegedly a decision by the Court of Appeals of Texas. It includes the following line:

Honestly, the plaintiff’s attorney best defense at this point is that he wasn’t intentionally trying to mislead the court, because if he was doing this on purpose, he would have edited the cases to make them slightly more believable. (Context in case you’ve lost track: these documents are supposed to be copies of the opinions he is citing. The screenshoted line makes it clear that what he is actually citing is, at best, someone else’s summary of an "opinion". It would be like if a teacher asked a student to photocopy a chapter of a book and bring it into class, and instead the student brought in a copy of the cliffs notes summary of that chapter. Except that the book doesn’t even exist.)

The actual contents of the “opinion” are, as is now standard, absolutely bonkers. First, the court decides that it doesn’t have personal jurisdiction over Delta because “Delta did not purposefully avail itself of the benefits of conducting business in Texas.” This was despite the fact that the factual background already included that the appellant (sorry, the plaintiff, according to the “opinion”) flew on a Delta flight originating in Texas. Like, this is just wrong? It’s not even hallucinatory nonsense, it’s just facially incorrect legal analysis. Then the court starts discussing the treaty’s time bar, for some reason? Then it goes back to talking about personal jurisdiction, but now the trial court denied the defendant’s motion to dismiss for lack of personal jurisdiction, and the appellate court agrees with the trial court that it does have personal jurisdiction, even though this is the plaintiff’s appeal from the dismissal for lack of personal jurisdiction and the court already ruled it didn’t have personal jurisdiction? And even though on page 1, the plaintiff was injured during a flight from Texas to California, now on page 7 she was injured on a flight from Shanghai to Texas? Also the trial court has gone back in time (again) to grant the motion to dismiss that it previously denied?

Also, I’ve been trying to avoid pointing out the wonky text of these submissions, but:

Everything ok there?

Case number five is similar enough to number four that it’s not worth repeating myself.

Thank god, cases six and eight, as noted above, are real cases, so I’m going to skip them. The defendant alleges that the cases do not stand for the propositions the plaintiff cited them for, and I’m going to assume that is true, given the rest of this nonsense.

Case number seven looks legitimate on the surface. But neither the defendant nor I could find the case through any legitimate search mechanisms. The defendant looked up the purported docket numbers on PACER and found completely different cases; I was able to find a case with the name “Miller v. United Airlines, Inc.,” but it was for a different Ms. Miller, it was a California state case (not a Second Circuit federal case), it was decided on a different year, and the substance of the case was entirely different from the alleged opinion filed with the court.

On top of that, this might be the most morally reprehensible fake citation of them all? Because it is about the crash of United Airlines Flight 585, a real plane crash. Everyone on board - 25 people in total - was killed. 

The individual cited in this fake court case was not one of them.

I cannot imagine conducting myself in such a way where I would have to explain to a judge that I made up a fake case exploiting a real tragedy because I couldn’t be bothered to do actual legal research.

Now, I know you all have figured out what’s going on by now. And I want you to know that if your instincts are saying, “it seems like the lawyer should have just fallen on his sword and confessed that he relied on ChatGPT to write his original brief, rather than digging himself further into this hole”? Your instincts are absolutely correct.

Because obviously, the court was having none of this b.s. On May 4th, the court issued an order, beginning with the following sentence:

That is one of the worst possible opening sentences you can see in an order by the court in a situation like this. The only thing worse is when judges start quoting classic literature. If I was Mr. Peter LoDuca, counsel for the plaintiff, I would already be shitting my pants.

“I gave you an opportunity to either clear things up or come clean. Now I’m going to give you an opportunity to show why I should only come down on you like a pile of brinks, instead of a whole building.”

We are getting dangerously close to “quoting classic lit” territory here.

If I learned that the judge in my case called up the clerk of a circuit court just to confirm how full of shit I was, I would leave the legal profession forever. Also, the judge is now also putting quotes around “opinion.” When judges start getting openly sarcastic in their briefs, that means very very bad things are about to happen to someone.

So I’m guessing the delay between this filing and the court order was because the judge’s clerk was tasked with running down every single one of the additional fake citations included in the "opinions", just to make this sure this order (and the upcoming pile of bricks) are as thorough as possible.

If you are following along with Dracula Daily, the vibe here is roughly the same as the May 19th entry where Dracula demands Jonathan Harker write and pre-date letters stating he has left the castle and is on the way home.

Also, hey, what’s that footnote?

Wait, what?

Folks, it appears we may have notary fraud, on top of everything else! Anybody have bingo?

So on May 25, one day before the deadline, Mr. LoDuca filed his response. And oh boy, I hope ya’ll are ready for this.

Hey, what’s the name of that other attorney, “Steven Schwartz”? Where have I seen that name before…

...I ran out of room for images on this post. So I'm going to have to leave this as an accidental cliffhanger. Part 2 to follow once I refresh my tea.

[dahliakbs]

Retired Villain

(⁠ ๑Batfam X Reader - Dick Grayson, Damian Wayne and Tim Drakeﾉ⁠♡ ⁠)

Masterlist

╠You'd put your reckless lifestyle behind in favor of living a boring civilian life, knowing that you wouldn't get anywhere in life if you kept getting beaten up and sent to jail over and over like it was the only thing life had to offer.

You thought that putting your past behind you and creating yourself a fresh start would finally put the bats off your trail...

But sadly for you, it had only taken your cities vigilantes about two weeks to find out where you lived.

Even though they'd found out where you lived and how you'd decided to turn your life around they didn't believe it.

And instead of taking the information at face value they'd decided to check up on you in person.

And that they did.

Now you would've thought that they'd leave you alone after just the first few times but no, they'd started popping up everywhere. Using the excuse of your old atrocities to monitor you almost every waking moment of the day.

And when I say every I mean every.

Your at the supermarket, buying food like everyone else and Nightwing just randomly shows up out of nowhere. Bugging you and using the excuse of monitoring you to justify his presence.

"I know times are dire but stealing milk from the supermart?" you could see his outline in your peripheral, propping himself up against the fridge next to you.

He's shaking his head playfully before moving to take your cart away from you. You knew he was aware that you weren't gonna steal anything but apparently teasing you was his new favorite hobby.

"For the last time, I'm not stealing anything from this store" you huffed before dumping the carton of milk into the cart he'd taken from you.

"This store, so how about the next one?"

You could already feel the gray hairs sprouting, it was like he was sucking all the energy out of you and you could do nothing about it.

Well, at least he helped you with the shopping right?

While your on your way making your way to work one of the Robins will just mysteriously appear next to you, specifically the youngest one. Always giving off a clear air of distaste towards your entire being but still accompanying you on your way to work.

"Don't you have school kid?" you ask, it was like nine in the morning and he was casually walking next to you as if he didn't have somewhere to be right now.

"I don't need to go to school, besides I'm stuck monitoring criminals like you" he stated and you could already feel him drilling holes into the side of your head.

This kid really has no chill...

"Well if it makes you feel any better I also don't like having people watch me 24/7" you could feel your shoulders sag at the thought of having to put up with the bat and his tiny army of children.

Even when you were simply relaxing in your humble abode they'd still had the audacity come ruin your little alone time.

You were just relaxing in your pyjamas, munching on some popcorn and enjoying the fact that for once you were finally all by yourself when suddenly a figure hauls themselves over the edge of your window sill and crashes onto the floor of your apartment.

Of course your quick to push yourself off your couch and grab a weapon from the hidden compartment in your chair only to realize that your intruder was just another one of batman's minions.

"Red, you can't be serious" you immediately drop you weapon and walk over to his crumpled form.

He looked like he just went through hell, which was pretty sad since you knew he was just a kid on the inside but batman's sidekicks always seemed a little on the younger side.

"Are you crashing for the night?" He'd already done this before, always denying the fact that he was staying the night but always ends up staying anyway.

"No, I'm not" he muttered to himself, crumpling even more into himself but flinching when one of his wounds comes into contact with his detached gear.

"Right, your monitoring me" you played along, allowing him to believe that he was leaving anytime soon but you could already see his body relaxing it self.

"By the way, your crashing on the couch Tonight" you'd at least allow him to stay somewhere in your house, knowing that the supposed 'Batcave' that they always spoke about was somewhere on the other side of Gotham.

He should be lucky that he's your favorite, because ain't no way were you allowing any of the other bats anywhere near your house. Let alone inside of it.╣

[flowersandbigteeth]

Looking for a saucy medieval tradition to weave into your historical romances? Have no fear, foot-of-the-gallows marriage is here! Basically, if a man was about to be hanged and a woman stepped forward and said “I will marry this man!” he was spared because it was was seen as like “oh, she’ll rehabilitate him so we don’t have to kill him.” Now, I heard this from tiktok, so I could be wrong, and it could just be a folk tale or something that rarely happened in actuality. Either way, it’s a cool troupe I think more people should use (and I myself will be using). I think it would work really well with Orcs and Elves!

This is such an intriguing idea! I had to try it. If you end up writing it, tag me, if you are comfortable! I'd love to see what you do with it ^_^

I keep getting Orc ideas, and I can't resist them *feral invasive Orc thoughts* （￣ ｗ￣）Ψ

Orc (Saber) x GN elf reader

Word Count: 6K

TW: discussion of hanging, bad mother, sfw Orc fluff, a bit of melancholy with a happy ending, nonsexual mention of private body parts in the context of bathing

“Goodness, what’s this all about?” you grumbled, clutching your basket closer to you as you made your way through the crowd. 

The stench of rotten vegetables and too many people lingered in the air. 

“It’s a hanging,” a helpful imp beamed, hopping on his tiptoes to see over the crowd. Why people gathered all around to watch someone die, you had no idea, but more importantly, the crowd was blocking your path home. Industrious vendors selling ale and popcorn wove through the throng to collect what coins they could from the event. In the capital, everyone had a hustle, and few left the chance to make some money at the table. 

“Out of the way!” You shouted, shouldering whoever was unlucky enough to be in your way. 

The voice of the city guardsman who was reading off a list of offenses to the crowd drowned yours out, but with a few well-placed shoves, you managed to make it to the front. You were looking around, trying to figure out how to get across the plaza, when you glanced up to see a familiar face. 

“It’s you!” you blurted as your eyes locked with the brilliant chartreuse irises of the Orc standing on the gallows. 

He gave you a wan smile, lifting his tied hands to wave at you. His straight nose was up in the air as if all the rabble around him should be fortunate to have the privilege of watching him die. The thick olive locs you remembered being long had been roughly chopped short around his ears. Still, even dressed in an ill-fitting prison jumpsuit, he had a regal air about him. His barrel chest was puffed, strong muscles peaking between the frayed fabric. 

“Fifty counts of robbery…25 counts of counterfeiting gold coins…seven counts of horse theft…”

The Orc you’d met before’s name was Saber. He’d helped you get your broken cart into town one rainy afternoon…, and then he’d also stolen your necklace, which you’d realized after he’d disappeared. 

“As per the King’s edict, If any citizen pledges to save this soul from the gallows by way of marriage, please step forth.” 

Though he was handsome, no one raised their hands to save him. Instead, they all booed. Judging by the rotten vegetables hurled at him, he seemed to have robbed almost everyone in the capital. 

“Aye!” you shouted, hiking up your pants to pull yourself onto the stage. 

The guardsmen’s eyebrows shot up when you’d straightened yourself.

“I’ll marry the sorry bastard.” 

“Are you sure? He’ll most likely rob you and run off. He’s better off dead.” 

“I have business with this one,” you informed him, snapping your fingers. “Come on then. Let’s get this over with.” 

The guardsman shrugged and jerked the noose off of his neck, a little disappointed. The crowd wasn’t happy either, hurling insults along with their vegetables. 

“Quiet! Quiet!” the guardsman shouted after shoving Saber forward for the “ceremony.”

He took a deep breath, jerking a notebook out of his pocket.

“Alright,” he began, snorting. “State your name for the record.” 

“(Y/N).”

“Lovely elven name,” he murmured as he jotted it down. “Now then, do you (Y/N) take this here, criminal, Saber Wintermaple to be your lawfully wedded husband?” 

You gave him a sharp nod. 

“I do.” 

He swung a lazy eye at Saber. 

“Do you Saber Wintermaple, take this kind elf to be your betrothed?” 

He gave you a bright smile. 

“I do.” 

The guardsman snapped the book closed, shoving Saber towards you. 

“I hereby declare you two duly betrothed under the King’s law. This Orc is your problem now, citizen. You’d better keep him out of trouble, or you’ll be up here next to him!”

He handed you the thick rope looped around the binding, keeping Saber’s hands tied, and waved you two off. The audience, bored without bloodshed, had already started dispersing, making it easy for you to tug Saber towards the road leading to the forest. 

“I didn’t know I made such a pleasant impression,” Saber said cheerfully, following you out of town.

You whirled around and jammed a finger in his face. 

“I wouldn’t describe it as pleasant. You owe me a gold necklace! Give it back, or you can work off the coin you owe me!” 

He chuckled.

“I’m fresh out of coins, little elf.” 

He scratched his chin and looked up, thinking. 

“I’m pretty sure I lost that necklace in a game of dice.” 

He shrugged. 

“You lost my only possession of any value in a game of dice?” 

You scrubbed your hand over your face, counting back from ten so you didn’t explode.  

“Maybe I should have let you die.”

Frowning, you looked over him from toe to head. 

“At least you look strong enough. I’m sure I can find something useful for you to do!” 

You stopped where the two of you stood in the middle of the trail and pulled a small charm from your basket. 

“I was going to use this on my coin purse since there was a thief on the loose, but it’s probably better applied to you!” 

You looped the charm around his neck, closing your eyes to whisper the spell. A gust of spirit wind, fluffed your hair as the magic twirled around Saber. When you opened your eyes again, there was a blue thread linking the two of you that only you could see. 

“What was that?” he asked, narrowing his eyes on you. 

“It’s a binding spell, so you can’t run off with my stuff again,” you explained.

His eyebrows jumped, and he tugged at the little talisman around his neck. 

“It won’t come off.” 

You nodded proudly. 

“Exactly.”

He took a moment to examine you carefully, tapping his chin again. 

“Interesting,” he murmured.  

“What? What does that mean?” 

He smiled and shrugged.

“Lead the way, spouse.” 

You sighed, turning and pulling him through the bumpy trail in the woods to your little home. When you’d fled your homeland to the Capital, you’d been lucky to find an abandoned cottage outside the city walls. It wasn’t massive, with only the basic living quarters, but it must have at some point belonged to someone’s Saber’s size, as the door and counters were much too high. You’d spent much of the money you earned selling charms and ointments, buying stools and ladders to reach things. 

“You poor thing,” Saber sighed as you passed through the magic barrier you’d cast to keep your home hidden from bandits.

“You don’t need to patronize me,” you huffed. “You’re the one almost hanged and run out of town.” 

He ignored you, looking around. 

“I feel kind of bad for stealing your necklace now that I’ve seen where you live. This place is a mess.” 

You examined your home, trying to see it through his eyes. Every available surface was covered in books, alchemy equipment, or ingredients. Even the chairs were covered in cast-off scrolls, books, or charms. 

“It’d be nice to have a workshop,” you admitted. “But that’s much too expensive.”

You straightened your slumping shoulders and lifted your chin. 

“No matter, you won’t be spending much time sitting down. I’ve got loads of things that need doing.” 

He gave you a sharp nod and held out his hands. 

“You’ll have to untie me if you want me to work.” 

Pulling a small blade from your basket, you sawed through the thick binding. Free to move as he pleased, he wrung his stiff wrists as he perused your living room. Occasionally he would pick something up, then put it down again, finally crouching to examine a bucket filled with water. 

“What are you doing?” 

He peered up at the leak in the roof that was letting rainwater drip through. 

“This needs fixing, or the roof will rot out.”

Pushing off of his knees, he turned to you. 

“How long have you been living alone?” 

You blushed, embarrassed. 

“I dunno, my whole life, I guess. The elven town where I came from didn’t have an orphanage or anything, so when I was old enough, I took off toward the capital. It took a while to get here…but here I am. I thought there would be more…I don’t know…opportunity here.” 

“How has that worked out for you? Living in a house clearly not meant for you and marrying a man on the gallows.” 

You gave him an indignant snuff. 

“At least I’m not a thief!” 

He chuckled, leaning against a bookshelf, rolling a gold coin on his knuckles. Your eyes narrowed on it, and you reached in your pocket to find you’d been relieved of your day’s earnings. 

“Hey! You stole that!” 

He laughed, revealing straight white teeth, and jingled the other coins in his pocket. 

“Don’t worry, I can’t get away with it, right?” 

You sucked in a deep annoyed breath. 

“I have things to do. Make yourself useful and chop some wood. It’s going to be cold when the sun sets.” 

“Whatever you say, spouse,” he replied, giving you a sarcastic salute as you dropped your basket and hurried to the kitchen to get started on dinner. 

What had you been thinking marrying a criminal? You paused for a moment, eyes growing misty. You didn’t really think he still had your necklace, did you? You let out a sigh just short of a sob. Were you really that lonely? Maybe it hurt that he’d been so kind to you, just to trick you. You should have been happy to see him hanged, yet the lingering magic that followed all elves had whispered that you ought to save him. 

But why? You weren’t in any position to support a husband. Though you’d instructed yourself on the knowledge of various potions and charms, you weren’t the only one. The city was teaming with Academy-bred alchemists who far surpassed your skill. They had access to rare ingredients and an army of assistants. You had to scrape out a living selling your wares far cheaper than the competition even to get noticed at the market. Hustling day to day, you certainly didn’t have the time or money to pretty yourself up to find a partner. 

“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” you grumbled, returning to chopping tubers for soup. 

A thick THWACK, drew your eyes out the kitchen window to Saber splitting logs across the lawn. He’d divested himself of his ratty shirt, and every thick muscle was on display as he lifted the ax over his head and dropped it down again. The logs felt apart like they were nothing more than twigs under his might. 

Your eye focused on the dark, wet slashes across his shoulder blades where his jailors had beaten him. He must have felt your eyes on him because he glanced up and waved. Blushing, you hurriedly pulled the curtains, returning to your task. 

Unable to get his injuries out of your mind, you felt bad for making him chop wood while he was hurt. When you’d plopped the tubers into your cooking pot, you gathered up some healing and numbing salves, making your way out the door. 

“Need something?” he asked, looking up from his task. 

“Sit down,” you barked. 

A thick eyebrow rose, and he tipped his head. 

“Why? Planning on lobbing my head off?” 

You wrinkled your nose at him. 

“No, of course not! You’re massive. How would I even go about burying your body? I can’t have a rotting corpse stinking up the place. Just sit!” 

He leaned his axe against the stump he was using to brace the wood and sat down on it. You dug in your basket, pulling out some cleanser to clean the wounds. Beside the big ugly gashes, Saber’s skin was a smooth, pretty green, the planes of his muscles sharp and defined. The first brush of your hand on his back made him jump. 

“S-sorry,” you muttered.

“‘Ts fine. Just not used to people touching me. Go on.” 

You spread the thick gel you used carefully over each angry line. 

“What do you mean? You’ve never had a partner before me?” 

He paused for a moment before he jerked his head. 

“I had a girlfriend once, but she left me.” 

“Why?” 

“Some noble offered her his hand and well…I couldn’t compete.”

He sighed. 

“She was happy to keep me on as her side piece, but I’ve got too much of an ego to be someone’s toy.” 

Your eyebrows jumped at his candor, but you just hummed, plastering clean wraps to his skin so the wounds could heal. His skin was warm under your fingers, making the tips tingle. When you were done, you found yourself tipping forward on your toes to peck the back of his neck. When you’d realized what you’d done, your ears burned, and you coughed loudly. 

“Sorry, ah…sorry,” you muttered, unsure what to say. “You’re…ah…going to have to sleep on your stomach, so you don’t make these worse.” 

He swiveled around to look at you, smiling. 

“Thanks, doc!”

“I’m not a doctor.” 

He shrugged. 

“What’s the difference?” 

“Ten years of special-”

You shook your head, realizing he was teasing you.

“I think that’s enough wood for tonight. Come inside. Dinner’s almost ready.” 

He grinned at you, his stomach grumbling, as he scooped up some of the wood he’d cut and tucked it under one arm. You wondered how much they let him eat in prison, worried he was starving. 

“What’d my sweet little spouse cook for me?” he asked. 

“Just some sweet potato soup. It’s not gourmet.” 

He frowned. 

“No meat?” 

You blinked at him. 

“You have all the money I made today in your pocket. How can I afford meat with those few coins?” 

He nodded, appearing to be thinking through the problem thoroughly. 

When you returned inside, you dipped the two of you bowls of soup, filling his twice as much as yours. You assured yourself it was because he couldn’t work without proper nutrition, not because you liked him. 

“So how far does this magic thingie let me go?” he asked as you sat down at the table. 

“Why, trying to run off?” 

He smirked. 

“No, why would I want to run away from you?” 

He chewed on a big spoonful of sweet potatoes before he continued. 

“I’ve got a cute little spouse who makes me dinner and kisses my cuts.” 

Your cheeks blew up in flames, and you choked on a mouthful of soup. You tried to retain your composure by quickly wiping your mouth with a napkin. 

“A couple of miles in any direction.” 

“Wow, didn’t think you’d give me such a long leash.” 

You shrugged. 

“I can’t be right at your side every minute.” 

He gave you the biggest puppy dog eyes you’d ever seen. 

“You don’t want me by your side every minute of the day?” 

Unsure if he was joking or not, you jerked your spoon at his soup. 

“Let’s…stop talking for a while. Eat up. You’ll need your strength.” 

While the two of you ate quietly, you did your best to keep your eyes on your bowl. Every time you happened to glance up, he was watching you with an odd smile on his face. Almost like satisfaction. 

You were relieved when you finally finished and could turn your back on him to rinse the dishes. 

“You can take the bed if you want,” you called over your shoulder as you stood on your tip toes to return the bowls to the cabinet. As your arm stretched, Saber appeared behind you, plucking the dishes out of your hand and easily placing them where they were supposed to go. 

“Where are you going to sleep?” he asked, extending a hand to help you off of the little ladder you were perched on. 

“There’s a couch in the living room.” 

He wrinkled his nose. 

“It’s covered in stuff.” 

You shrugged, trying to hurry past him. 

“I’ll clean it up.”

You found your feet swinging in the air as he picked you up and tossed you over his shoulder. 

“Wh-what are you doing?” 

“My spouse is not sleeping on the sofa. I never thought I’d have a spouse, so I’ve got to take proper care of you.” 

He patted your butt for emphasis. 

“Are you crazy?” you snapped, only not banging on his back with your fists because he was injured. “We can’t sleep together! We just met!” 

Your body bounced on his shoulder as he chuckled. 

“You weren’t concerned with that when you insisted on marrying me!” 

“They were going to kill you!” 

He flopped you down on your bed, caging you in with his big arms. His head dipped to drag the tip of his nose along the length of your neck. 

“So you do like me!” he whispered into your skin. 

“I do not,” you huffed, pushing his chest.

Though your muscles did nothing to move him, he rose so you could scoot out across the bed. You quickly scrambled into the bathroom to change into your pajamas. 

When you came back out, Saber was slipping off his pants. 

“What are you doing now?” You gasped, cheeks heating at the sight of the thick shaft hanging between his legs.  

He glanced up, a slight smirk on his face as he folded his clothes. 

“I can't sleep in these prison clothes. I'll get the sheets all dirty!” 

You sighed, rubbing your eyes. He was right. He was filthy from sleeping on dirty straw in prison. 

“Come on,” you said, flicking two fingers at him. “You need a bath. You’re probably covered in fleas! 

Fortunately, your house came equipped with one large enough to fit Saber’s big body. With a flick of your fingers, the tub was filled, and with a few whispers of a spell, the water was hot. 

“Get in,” you said. 

Making himself comfortable, he looked back at you over his shoulder, an eyebrow raised. 

“You tryin’ to watch? Naughty little elf!” 

You let out a long sigh. 

“No, I’m just going to ensure you don’t get your bandages wet, or it will all have been a waste. Supplies are expensive,” you huffed, picking up the sponge. “Now, sit still!”

Saber smirked but let you lift each of his arms as you scrubbed him. 

“So how did your old girlfriend take it when you decided you wouldn’t be your affair partner?”

He glanced at you, eyes ever thoughtful. His long look brought heat to your cheeks. 

“Sorry, you don’t have to answer that.” 

He shrugged, his jaw tightening. 

“She was rather smug. She spent her whole life wishing to elevate herself.” 

A long sigh slipped past his lips. 

“I could never make her happy. I lied, cheated, stole; whatever I could do…but she looked down her nose at all of it.”

Your mouth fell open. 

“I’m…I’m sorry. You don’t have to…”

He waved a thick hand, his warm palm gently landing on your head and lightly ruffling your hair. 

“Think nothing of it. It’s kind of nice to get it off my chest.” 

“So that’s why you're a crook? To make her happy?”

He smirked. 

“I was a crook. Now I’m a married man. I can’t get into trouble. I have a spouse who relies on me.” 

He pinched your chin. 

“Prison was difficult enough without knowing I was missing out on such a cute little face. Now, it would crush me.” 

Your cheeks burned even hotter, and you jerked your head away, grabbing the nearest towel and tossing it to him. 

“Careful, don’t jostle your bandages,” you wheezed before making your escape. “Whoever lived here before left some clothes in the chest by the door. They ought to fit.” 

You were so busy slowing your beating heart that you blew out the lantern and slid into your bed without thinking Saber would soon follow. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to feign sleep, when you heard his heavy footsteps approach. He paused for a moment, doing Goddess knows what, before he carefully laid down next to you. 

The mattress dipped under his weight, and your body slid into his. You heard him draw in a sharp breath as your warm forms pressed together. 

“Mind your wounds. Make sure you sleep on your side,” you whispered into the darkness. 

You felt him adjust slightly, and then a heavy arm draped over your waist. Despite yourself, it was warm and the weight felt nice. Comforting. Now that he’d used your soap, he smelled like home. His breath brushed the hairs on your neck and another arm slid underneath you to use as a pillow. You would have pulled away, but you’d never slept so close to someone before. 

Living on the street for most of your life, left you with scars. You didn’t realize how deep they’d cut you until Saber’s large body curled around yours. You felt safe. 

When you woke the next morning, the bed next to you was empty. Your heart thumped heavily in your chest, wondering where he’d gone. Had it all been a dream? 

The pile of dirty prison clothes folded and placed on top of a chest proved that it had not. 

Breathing slowly, in the meditation you’d taught yourself, you stretched your awareness out, reaching for the blue thread. Saber was half a mile from you. You wondered what he could possibly be doing. 

“Orc things, probably,” you muttered, making your way to the bathroom to clean yourself up. 

It wasn’t like he could run off; there was nothing in that direction but trees. Through the window, you could see the sun up over the tree line, telling you that you’d slept much later than usual. 

Usually, you’d have left at sunrise to sell your wares in the Capital market, but it was far too late now. Instead, you grabbed an apple from the kitchen and started fussing with your alchemy materials. Now that Saber was living with you, you were sure you needed to straighten up so he didn’t break something. 

Walking across the room, you automatically skipped around the bucket on the floor; only the bucket was gone. You frowned, but looking at the ceiling, someone had replaced one of the boards with a fresh one. Had Saber done that while you were sleeping? 

You huffed, returning to straightening your books. At least he’s putting himself to work. 

You were trying to remember the order in which a pair of books written in ancient elven were arranged alphabetically when the bell above your door jingled. 

Since your home was hidden with magic, the bell told you someone was nearby. It was a charm you rarely used. No one had any reason to look for you. The most it had rung was when you ordered a special cauldron or tomb and happened to have the cash to have it delivered. 

Curious if a traveler was lost, you put your books down and wandered outside. 

“Morning, spouse!” 

Saber’s voice made you jump when he appeared hauling a deer on his shoulders. 

“What’s that?” 

He shrugged the creature off of his shoulders. 

“Meat!” he announced proudly. 

You nodded at him, your eyes catching on his bare chest, glazed with a sheen of sweat. 

“Where are you off to?” he asked. 

“Someone is here,” you murmured, forcing your gaze from the sharp planes of his muscles to continue down the path. 

A shadow draped over you, and you glanced up to see him looming. 

“What are you doing?” 

“I’m going with you. It could be someone dangerous.” 

You shook your head but continued on your way with him in tow. 

“Helloooo? Helllloooo?” 

A female voice was screaming through the trees. When you rounded the bend, your eyes landed on an expensive carriage and a beautiful fairy shouting at the top of her lungs.  Her pink hair fell in glittering curls around her shoulders, and matching wings emerged from her back.

“Damn it! Saber! Where the fuck are you?” 

“Can I help you?” you asked as you stepped through your magic barrier. 

Her eyes narrowed, but not on you. She looked directly behind you. 

“Saber! There you are!” 

She grinned, fluttering her winds and flying past you. Irritation immediately pricked your heart as the woman threw her arms around him. Turning around, you found him looking at her with wide eyes. 

“Melody…what are you doing here? How did you find me?” 

“I’m here to see you, of course. I heard you were going to be hung, but an elf saved you! I asked around the market and was told you’d been taken here. I was so worried!” 

When she cupped his chin with her delicate hand, you crossed your arms, eyes narrowing. 

“Not someone. Me.” you interjected. 

You marched towards Saber and grabbed him by the arm. 

“Saber is my husband. Who are you?” 

She wrinkled her nose at you, ignoring your question. Her hand slid down Saber’s chest despite you. 

“Is there someplace we can talk? Privately?” 

Saber’s shocked face tightened. 

“I don’t think that’s an appropriate ask in front of my spouse, Melody.” 

She scoffed. 

“You’ve been married…what? 8 hours? Saber, I think I more than deserve a little of your time. Especially as the mother of your child.” 

Your jaw dropped, and your hand pulled away from Saber. It was true, you’d only known him for a few hours, but a child was something he ought to have mentioned. 

His brow drew, looking between you and her. 

“What child?” 

She huffed, frowning at you. 

“Fine…If you must do this, this way.” 

She turned to the carriage and yelled. 

“Nora, bring the baby!” 

A maid climbed out of the carriage holding a small whimpering bundle. You gasped as the woman presented Saber with a little green newborn. 

Saber’s eyes popped, his mouth opening and closing as the maid pressed the child into his hands. 

“This…he…is mine?” 

Melody nodded. 

“Yes, and it’s time for you to take responsibility.” 

He glanced up at her. 

“You want to get back together?” 

She let out a cruel but trilling laugh. 

“Oh heavens no. I need you to take him. Dante hasn’t seen him yet. He thinks I’ve delivered his child. I had the maids tell him I was recovering for the past month so I could sneak him out. If he finds out I’ve been carrying your baby this whole time, he’ll throw me out on the street!” 

Anger roiled under your skin. 

“So what baby are you going to present to him?” you demanded. 

She snorted as if that were a foolish question. 

“I’ll get a baby from the slums. Plenty of mothers would happily give their child the life of a Lord’s son without question.”

She fluttered her iridescent wings. 

“It only need be a fairy child.” 

You could see the pain and confusion settle on Saber’s face. Stepping between the two of them, you gently pried the bundle out of Saber’s hands, looking at his cute little button nose and glossy baby curls. 

“Of course, we will take him, but on one condition.” 

She glanced at you. 

“What do you want? Money?”

You let out a tight chuff. 

“No. We never want to see you again. If he is our baby, he is ours. Don’t think you can change your mind and come running back here looking for him or Saber. The second you step foot in your carriage, this child and my husband are dead to you.” 

Her eyes jerked to Saber. 

“Saber. You can’t mean that. Of course, I want to see you…Dante, however, can’t know. You understand, don't you? This is everything we've dreamed about! You ought to support me!"

You scoffed, rolling your eyes.

"I grew up in the gutter, too," you hissed. "But I'd never treat someone the way you have treated my husband. He is too good for you and I won't tolerate you buzzing around us like a nasty fly."

She glared at you.

"He's my child! You're just jealous Saber and I have history!"

Saber's jaw locked, and he put his arm around you, giving her a disgusted grimace. 

“Have you named him?” he asked. 

She looked contrite but lifted her chin. 

“I…ah…it didn’t occur to me...” 

He nodded and glanced down at you, holding his child. 

“Then…I agree with (Y/N). You’ll never know his name. You’ll never see him grow. You’ll never return to ruin our peace.” 

“But Saber-” 

“Don’t say my husband’s name, either.” you snapped. “You thought you’d come here and drop all of your responsibilities in his lap and then keep stringing him along as a toy? It’s not going to work like that. You have your family, and we have ours.” 

You jerked your chin at her. 

“Make your choice. Either leave the child or be prepared to explain to your husband who he belongs to. Those are the only options.”

Her pretty face contorted into an ugly, wrinkled mask, and she lifted her skirt to turn on her heels. 

“Fine! It’s not like I want the child of a thief anyway!”  

Snapping at her maid, she hovered back to her carriage, and they disappeared down the road in a cloud of dust. You smiled down at the little baby, who’d managed to sleep through the drama. 

“Saber, I know I shouldn’t have spoken for you…I just- He deserves better than to grow up with the knowledge his mother believes him to be less than. Can you imagine him living as her secret? Sneaking around to hide him? If she passed him in the street, she’d ignore him to preserve her status. He’d be heartbroken. I won’t let that happen. I hope I didn’t overstep, but I’m not sorry for it.” 

He dropped to his knees, eyes wet, and pushed his head into your shoulder. His big arms wrapped around your waist, squeezing you tight.

“You said just the right thing,” he murmured, then turned his head to look at his son. “What should we name him?” 

You smiled at him. 

“Let’s talk it over over lunch.” 

The two of you walked back down the path together, both having a hard time keeping your gaze off the baby. He wriggled in his sleep, making you both see hearts.

“Maybe we should move,” you murmured. “Just to be sure…and to give him a fresh start.” 

He looked down at you. 

“You won’t miss this place?” 

You sighed. 

“No…this is just a house. We have a family now. He should grow up in a happy little town, not the capital…we’ll have to save for a few months, but I think we can do it.” 

“We don’t have to save. I have plenty of money.” 

You froze in your tracks, looking up at him.

“What? I thought you said you were broke?” 

He smiled down at you. 

“I meant I didn't have any coin on me. I didn’t just piss all of my ill-gotten gains away. I hid them. Follow me.” 

He tugged the two of you into the forest, walking quite a ways until you reached an oddly placed rock. Saber crouched down and uprooted a bush with a stiff jerk. Then he cleared the soil away, revealing a wooden chest. He turned the little dial a few ways until it clicked, and the chest opened with a creak. Your eyes widened at the hundreds of gold coins piled inside. He casually tugged the gold he’d lifted from you out of his pocket and tossed it inside with a metallic clink. 

“I think we can buy a nice place with this.” 

You were still completely confused. He rummaged around in the coins, producing the gold necklace he’d stolen. Standing, he fastened it around your neck with the nimble fingers of a thief.

“I thought you lost it gambling?” 

He shrugged. 

“I lied.” 

“Why did you keep it?” 

He gave you a long look.

“I’m not sure, to be honest. Something told me not to sell it.” 

“But…what about the rest? I thought you gave it all to Melody?” 

“I tried to…we grew up in the capital, in the same slums she wants to buy a baby from. It wasn’t ever about what I could provide her. She wanted to erase her past. She wanted a title…to be a lady, to be able to lift her nose at the very people she grew up with.

I started saving after she failed at her first attempt at seducing some highborn. At the time, I had this romantic dream that I could surprise her with a big house, start a business, and be the Lord she wanted so badly…but… as time passed, I realized I was already tainted in her eyes. She wanted the right blood attached to her money. It took me too long to be ready to pull away. Dante was the nail in the coffin, so to speak.” 

He tugged the chest from the ground, hauling it onto his shoulder before leading you back through the forest.  

“Even though I knew I wasn’t enough…I foolishly still loved her. I was a mess when he proposed. That’s why I got caught. I went on a bender that lasted most of a year…Fortunately, I never touched this. Maybe I held out hope since Melody still entertained my attention…but I got sloppy and ended up in jail.” 

His gaze dropped to the baby. 

“If it weren’t for you, I wouldn't have ever known about him. Anything could have happened to him if you hadn’t-”

He choked a bit, a couple of tears slipping down his cheek. You didn’t push him to finish his sentence. You knew what he was trying to say. 

“What about Arel?” you asked. 

“Arel? That sounds like an Elvin name.” 

You smiled at the little baby’s chubby cheeks. 

“It is…it means ‘treasure’.” 

He stopped, bending down to examine his son more closely. The baby’s eyes opened, and you saw that they were the same pretty chartreuse as his father’s. The two of them looked at one another in awe. 

“I like Arel,” he said, brushing a thick finger over his cheek. 

Arel’s big eyes grew wet, and he started to croon. 

Shock and worry bloomed on Saber’s face. 

“Is he okay?” 

“I think he’s hungry. I have some goat milk at home.” 

Saber straightened, and you had to almost jog to keep up with him, the two of you hurrying home to start your life as a family.

[teddybeartoji]

satoru as the guardian of an itty bitty six year old nobara... he spoils her so fucking much, and he lets her do anything and everything lmao nobara is so loud and lively and satoru fucking loves it like he adooores her so so so much<333333333

lets nobara climb all over him like he's her personal jungle gym whenever she's bored and lets nobara mess up his hair if she so desires. this is all very normal btw,, satoru doesn't even bat an eye when he feels her tugging at his arm as he's cooking, only smiling to himself when nobara grumbles that he's too heavy for her too pull on. satoru just ruffles her hair and tells her that he'll play mario cart with her after they've eaten and just fucking dies out of cuteness agression when nobara stomps her little foot while glaring at him. the hair thing is very casual too – sometimes satoru's just laying on the couch, watching tv, when nobara plops onto his back and just splays herself all over him like a puppy. yk how they sometimes lay on their backs with their paws up in the air – like that. it's very cute!!! she watches the tv with him for a while in silence but then she gets a little bored and goes to play with his hair instead. she styles it, she combs it; she makes fun of it being white, commenting that satoru's just so old already but he loves it.

they have spa days together, too. after a very, very bubbly bath, they're both clad in the cutest pyjamas with equally adorable headbands holding back their head. satoru's never been afraid to spend his money, meaning that the bathroom they share is as big as they come – they both have their own sides, seperate sinks and cupboard for the both of them (satoru really loves spoiling her). nobara has her own little stool to stand on as well, so she can see herself in the mirror perfectly as they wash their faces before applying face masks. sometimes nobara insists on putting on satoru's herself bc she thinks she can do it better. of course, he lets her.

after that, satoru carries her to the couch, so they can watch a movie while the mask dries. they eat popcorn and candy, and joke about whatever's playing on the screen. and when the twenty minutes are up, they both head back to the bathroom to wash their faces again. nobara does this for satoru, too – her eyebrows are furrowed, her eyes determined as she cleans him up. satoru pokes her cheek and laughs as she tells him off, as she tells him to stop messing around. satoru apologizes with a grin.

he blow dries her hair after all the skincare is done, his hands gentle as he combs through the strands. he's extra careful, knowing full well that he'll get reprimanded if he were to tug on her a bit too hard. satoru's rather good at it btw – doing her hair. he's learned how to braid it in different ways, so he's ready for whatever she could ever want. he's got hairties with him at all times, he's even got some hairclips in his pockets – in various shades, to match with the outfit she's wearing.

satoru likes to teasingly call her "little lady". it almost always ends up with her trying to shove him, the argument that 'she's not little' the saying she counters her guardian with. satoru thinks she's very adorable. nobara usually calls him by his name, sometimes by his last name but that's only when she's a little pissed off or when she's trying to be tough. she calls him 'toru' when she's tired though; when she's glued to him, her tiny hands circled around his neck as satoru's carrying her home from the park.

satoru's always there at her taekwondo practices, silently cheering her on as she kicks ass. he's so proud of her, so fucking proud. every once in a while, she turns to him with a big grin on her face, yelling out in excitement after yet another win. satoru is so incredibly proud.

satoru really adores nobara. she might not be his kid, but he still loves her like one. a father, a brother, a guardian - it doesn't matter. family. and nobara couldn't be any happier either – to have somebody that lets her have her fun, that doesn't even try to tone her down in any way. to have somebody that loves her unconditionally. it's everything a child could ever possibly want.

[transvampireboyfriend]

Eddie would come up with the most elaborate schemes to kiss Steve for the first time.

here's mine: He realizes Steve is a gossip early on, like the first time they all hang out someone mentions a rumour in passing and Steve latches on. Eddie is delighted. He's enamoured by the twinkle in Steve's eyes and the intensity in his probing, even the enthusiasm in giving out the information he has about the people in question.

So Eddie knows what he has to do.

Whenever Eddie sees or hears something that frankly should not be any of his business he makes sure to tell Steve. He doesn't mention it to anybody else and most of the time he doesn't care about it much, but he needs to tell Steve.

And he only does it when it's just the two of them. He finds Steve in a secluded corner of the Family Video, says "i think my boss is cheating on his wife" and is rewarded with a gasp.

He follows after Steve when he goes to refill the popcorn in the middle of movie night and casually asks "you know who I saw the other day coming out of Laura's house at 3am?" Steve raises his eyebrows higher than Eddie has ever seen.

He calls Steve at midnight on a Wednesday and opens with "my neighbors are definitely getting back together" Steve answers with a devastated "noooo!"

He leaves the kids in the cookie aisle to go catch up to Steve and lean on the shopping cart shoulder to shoulder and whisper "dont look now, but Heather and Monica are here together, right behind us. They ARE dating" Steve looks immediately.

And Eddie's not only excited about his initial reactions, but he thanks the heavens for his discovery because it gets him Steve's total, undivided attention every.fucking.time. without fail.

Steve turns fully to him, touches Eddie's arms for emphasis, shoves him when Eddie says something dumb, tugs on a strand of his hair a bit when Eddie says something silly, opens his eyes SO wide or squints at him and his eyelashes look sooo pretty. Steve leans in and whispers back and grins and teases and scrunches his nose in the most adorable gesture Eddie has ever seen in his life.

With practice, Eddie goes from having to give Steve's shoulder a back handed slap to get his attention, to just looking at him directly for like 5 seconds and then Steve knows Eddie has something to tell him.

so he does it at dinner, on a nondescript date at a nondescript hour because, mostly, Eddie just kinda can't take it anymore.

He's listening to Steve tell this story about a costumer and frankly, forgets to look away from him and Steve interprets this as Eddie having something to say. He cuts himself off, tilts his head and asks "what?" with mirth in his voice.

Eddie smiles, a little mischievous and says "c'mere I have to tell you something"

Steve smiles back, but says "we're the only ones here, Eds" gesturing to his kitchen.

Eddie rolls his eyes a bit and threatens "do you want me to tell you or not?"

Steve leans across the table, his cut off tank almost touching their spaghetti.

Eddie wants to shove his hands through the armpit holes, but he settles for holding Steve's jaw and threading his fingers through the hair at the back of his neck, pulling him in for a kiss.

Steve's lips are as soft and warm as he expected, he tastes of the red sauce they cooked together and he smells good enough to eat. Eddie indulges in a thorough kiss but keeps it short.

No matter how many times Steve looks at him like he's the most interesting person in the room, he hasn't outright said that he likes Eddie like that, so he'd rather be careful.

Eddie pulls back and finds Steve smiling, his eyes closed still.

Steve blinks his eyes open and looks at Eddie, his tongue darts out to swipe across his lips and he says "I think that's the best one you've told me yet"

Eddie snorts and feels his cheeks burn "Yeah?" he asks.

"Mmhm" Steve confirms against his lips, already kissing Eddie again.

It takes a while, but eventually Eddie realizes Steve doesn't only give him his undivided attention when he has gossip. He does it pretty much all the time.

Maybe at some point it expanded to everything Eddie has to say.

Or maybe it was like that all along.

[slushiecoaus]

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[queers-gambit]

Shower Shenanigans

part one: Perpetual L's and Overwhelming Dubs

prompt: midnight callers turn your quiet night upside down, but at least it ends with you riding your stranger in the shower.

pairing: Tangerine x female!reader

fandom masterlist: Bullet Train

word count: 4.7k+

note: nobody asked for this but he's my muse now

warnings: cursing, smut (unprotected, in the shower, she's on top), blood, wounds, brain rot, author isn't British, probably setting up for part three, wonky brain doesn't care what warnings are missed.

A storm had rolled over Osaka, a steady thrumming at your hotel window creating a calming ambiance as you lit a couple of the candles you ordered from the front desk. Curled up on the tiny loveseat offered in the small living space, you flipped through your latest novel you grabbed before running into Tangerine at the train station. Speaking of, you glared at your phone for the hundredth time in an hour, feeling a sort of overwhelming dread that he hadn't called yet - or at the very least, texted.

Was it silly? Oh, you KNOW it was.

But he had said some really pretty things that rang in your ears on a haunting repeat the rest of the train ride. Then the whole taxi ride through Osaka, and the three days it's been since meeting him - he just wouldn't leave your conscious. Every meeting you had was vaguely interrupted by some sort of thought about your mysterious stranger, driving you up the wall.

Sure, you could call him, but the idea of calling a stranger for no reason other than to hear his voice felt a little too vulnerable to you. Yo could ask where he was, if he wanted to come for a visit - or hell, even before you departed Japan back for London, England, you could come see him... If he so wanted.

But your mind refused to let you dial his number, which was left in your recents after he had texted himself in the bathroom. The memory of your ex was still so fresh, making you feel silly for having such vivid, intense fantasies about a man you've met once. And for the love of Christ, you didn't even know his real name! Just his silly, fruity codename!

Man, if you hadn't been embarrassed before, the memory of moaning a fucking fruit surely made you cringe to the point you wanted the Earth to open up, swallow you whole, and never spit you out.

Your trip was soon to end with your departing flight tomorrow night, giving you just a day of leisure time in the city - but you didn't feel like doing much since the storm. Your book was interesting enough, keeping you entertained with a cart of hot food from room service within arms reach. Your tea was lukewarm by now, being much easier to drink, bowl of air-popped popcorn sat in your lap. Over the sounds of thunder, there was a knock at your door.

More like a banging, but hey, logistics. This was odd considering it was close to nine in the evening and you hadn't called for anything.

With a sigh, you marked your page and stood; annoyed by the continuous knocking, oversized tee shirt falling back over your thighs, socked feet stuffing into your slippers before traveling to the door. You called in Japanese, "Who is it?"

There was a small scraping, making your brows furrow and call your question again - but with much more urgency. "'S me, love, open the door, please," a raspy, British accent croaked seemingly through the crack. You left the chain lock in place, slowly opening the door a fraction to discover Tangerine - bloodied to high hell - leaning on the doorframe of your hotel room with two other bloody men behind him.

"What the fuck? Jesus Christ," you hissed, shutting the door, snapping the chain off and yanking it open once more. "Get in here, are you okay?" You asked, gasping right after when Tangerine stumbled a little, making you catch him; assualting your sinuses with the smell of citrus, metallic blood, and cigarette smoke. "All right, all right, you're safe now, c'mon, c'mon, c'mon," you muttered, helping him over your shoulders and into your decently spacious hotel room. "C'mon, you two! Step lively before you trigger hotel security!"

You shuffled your stranger into the room and deposited him on the sofa; hearing his grunt of exaggerated pain. You looked at the others, sighing as you moved things out of the way, inviting the other two men to sit around the furniture. You tried not to worry about the cleaning bill you would surely get for all their blood.

"Jesus Christ, did you get shot?" You asked, seeing the fleshy wound in his shoulder that was very poorly staunched.

"That arsehole did it," he panted, pointing at the blonde stranger.

"Hi," the arsehole waved, "it was an accident, for whatever it's worth. I, uh... I have bad luck, don't really like guns," he shrugged meekly.

"You lot look like hell," you sighed, shaking your head and standing to your feet to take a few steps away. You asked over your shoulder, "Guess I shouldn't bother asking what happened?"

"Train wreck," the man Tangerine had been with earlier answered.

You blinked in shock, the men all wincing as they were seemingly finally able to relax. Only now, you noted they were all in the same clothes as days ago, just tattered, torn, burnt and singed, soaking wet from the storm, stained with blood. You looked at Tangerine, demanding, "Is that why you told me to get off the train? You were gonna crash it!?"

"No, no, darlin', that wasn't the plan," Tangerine coughed, head tilted back. "Just... Happened."

"Call it his bad luck, huh?" You shook your head and moved for the hotel's phone, dialing the front desk and waiting. When they answered, the cheery front desk girl asked how she could help and you asked her what first aid supplies the hotel kept stocked. She answered and you asked if you'd be able to get enough for three kits - claiming you were practicing for a medical school final. She was more than happy to oblige, telling you her brother did much of the same, and she'd send the kits right up.

Thanking her, you hung up, and turned back for room. You found a pair of shorts and hopped into them for modesty, using your ice bucket to fill with water, grabbing whatever hand towels and washcloths you could. You set the bucket to the coffee table, dipping the cloths in for the two strangers, asking, "You guys wanna clean up a bit?"

"Please," the blonde wheezed.

You nodded, handing over the wet towels and moved the bucket a little closer for them to reach. You introduced yourself to them, offering a smile, turning for Tangerine and taking a seat beside him to start cleaning him up. "Lemon," your companion's counterpart introduced.

"Ladybug."

"More fucking codenames," you mumbled, shaking your head, trying to mop up Tangerine's forehead. "Jesus, fuck, sweetheart, what did you do? Bash your head through a glass wall?"

"Window, actually," he mumbled, reaching up to caress your wrist and cracking his eyes open. "Thank you, darlin'."

"Hush," you smiled, wiping the blood from his mouth. "You guys are gonna need showers and new clothes, huh?" You looked at the other two, who were scattered around the room to use whatever reflective surface they could find.

"That'd be nice," Ladybug nodded. "Anyone any cash?"

You sighed, "I've got you guys, 's all right."

As you reached for the bucket of warm water again to rinse the washcloth and wring it out, you missed the looks Lemon and Tangerine exchanged; both mildly impressed with your generosity and kindness. Certainly, someone who would never get tangled up in the lot of them on regular circumstances.

The knock at your door made the entire room still, you sparing them a skeptical look and reprimanding as you stood, "Relax, it's just the supplies."

Still, Lemon and Ladybug made sure they were out of sight as Tangerine just couldn't move once deposited on the sofa. You greeted the service worker, strategic in how wide you opened the door, and accepted the supplies; thanking the man, closing the door, and depositing the materials on your still-made bed.

However, a new thought occurred and you picked up the phone once more. When it connected to the front desk, you asked if your conjoining room was vacant - and to your shock, it was. You asked if they would add the room to yours because your friend suddenly decided to join you (not a total lie), and some 20 minutes later, you were giving Ladybug and Lemon their own room keys. You propped the conjoining door open, the two men using the first aid kits and the other room's shower as you got Tangerine to a point you didn't think he would bleed out.

"Okay, sweetheart," you caressed his jaw, "I'm gonna pop over to the shops across the street, okay? Grab you guys some necessities."

"You don't have to, we shouldn't burden you like this," he whispered.

"You guys can't walk around in these clothes," you chuckled.

"Have been."

"Yeah, on the side of the road, huh?"

"Back of a tangerine truck for a bit, too," he chuckled.

"Well, that's fitting. Look, just," you sighed, leaning in to peck his lips softly, "stay here, rest, eat, I'll be right back. Get a shower if you feel able, yeah?"

He nodded, just looking you over for a moment. "I'm sorry," he whispered, shaking his head, "I didn't know where else t'go. Whole plan went t'shit, we were out of options, love, just... Didn't know where t'turn ta."

"How'd you even find me?"

He shrugged, "I have my ways."

"Well, that's doesn't vaguely make you sound like a stalker." Another peck to his amused smile. "I'll be right back, promise," you stood, found a pair of sweats, a hoodie, and changed your shoes before heading out the door.

Was it stupid to leave three strangers alone in your hotel room? For sure. But you still went, you were a caring person by nature and the idea of making them fend for themselves felt wrong.

Especially after the state they showed up in, Tangerine's soft words about not knowing where to go; you just wanted to help since you had the ability to.

Across the street, splashing through puddles, you zipped around what was available and gathered three sets of sweatpants, shirts, jackets or hoodies, and figured their shoes were fine for now until they could change them later. You grabbed a few snacks and bottles of water, sports drinks, and energy drinks, paid, and made it back to your hotel room.

"Oh, blessings, you sweet girl!" Lemon gasped when you presented the change of clothes and snacks. "Oh, fuck yeah," he whispered to himself, taking the gift and going to change as you tossed Ladybug his own set.

When you found Tangerine, he was in the same place - but at least he didn't look worse. Just exhausted.

"Hey," you cooed, caressing his head and watching his eyes crack open.

"You're back," he smiled.

"Mhm," you hummed, "and you need a shower. C'mon, then you can get in bed, get some rest."

"Nah, love," he groaned when you took his wrists, "let's jus' go t'bed."

"Tan, you're absolutely disgusting right now, you'll feel better under the water. C'mon, there's a shower seat, you don't have to do anything, I'll help you."

He winced when you helped him on his feet, hobbling into the bathroom as Ladybug and Lemon were chowing down on whatever they could get their hands on. In the bathroom, you shut the door, set a clean towel on the counter, and turned to see him leaning on a wall, just watching you. You offered a soft smile, starting the shower to hea up, and then approaching him.

"Easy," you whispered, helping him unlatch his belt, step from his shoes, and then shed his trousers. His waistcoat followed, then his button-up, you gasping lightly, "Oh, fuck! Oh, my God. Yeah," you gently pet his side, prodding the dark wound, "you've got some broken ribs, sweetheart. Fuck's sake."

"That arsehole did that, too," he mused.

"Seriously? Damn, how'd you get your arse handed to yah by a lad named Ladybug?" You joked, dropping his boxers and pulling him from the wall. You made sure he was on the shower seat before stepping back and stripping yourself, joining him in the heat and getting to your knees.

With another washcloth, you gently suds over his body, the soap helping sweep away from grime. He let you work, scrubbing his feet, then working up his legs, rinsing, reapplying the soap, and continuing on your way. You washed his thighs and up his hips, to his waist, ignoring the way his cock stirred to life, bobbing into your elbow as it swelled. You were gentle over his bruises, the water feeling nice over your tired bodies; the soft scents of the soap soothing.

When you straightened up to wash his chest, you missed the way his eyes scanned over your soaking wet form. Feeling your hands on his collarbones, he reached down to seize your hips and heave - making you yelp. "The hell are you doing?" You gasped, needing to stabilize yourself on the wall and his non-shot shoulder.

"'S been three days too long, just wanted yah close," he whispered, sighing as his hands smoothed down your hips; gripping the flesh until indentations appeared.

You tisked, "You're hurt, you don't need t'fuckin' lift me. Use your words next time, won't you?"

He chuckled, "And what? Risk you sayin' no 'cause you don't wanna hurt me? Nah, love," he sighed. "Just wanted yah close, t'feel yah."

You hummed, "Close your eyes."

"Hmm?"

You held up the shampoo bottle, squirting a generous amount into your hand before starting to lather it into his scalp. He groaned, hissed at a few intervals, but overall let you work your fingers through his curls; pulling out any knots, shards of glass, and loosening the dried blood.

"You all right?" You checked, lifted on your knees to work; breasts all but pressed into his face.

"Mhm," he hummed, coiling his arms around you so he could literally just press his face into your cleavage. You chuckled, giving him a quick cuddle as he pecked your skin slowly, and continuing your work. When you lowered yourself back to his lap, your bare cunt drug down his shaft, making you both groan. "Baby," he seethed through his teeth, gripping the back of your neck to keep you close, "please, just - get on me, yeah? Need yah - on a biblical level, darlin'."

"You're hurt," you weakly refused, your resolve barely hanging on by a thread.

"Not so hurt that I can't enjoy this, huh?" He argued, licking over your lips to halt all rational thought. "C'mon, love, we hiked it three days here - after a fuckin' train wreck. I would've dropped if not for the thought of you, seein' yah, touchin' you again. Don't even gotta move, just sit there, love."

"If I do, will you finally just sit still and let me clean you up?"

"Whatever baby wants, she'll have, swear it," he grinned, hoisting you into his arms so he could grip his throbbing cock, lower you, and line himself up until you were impaling yourself on him. "Jesus, fuck!" He snapped, mixing with your whimper at his impossible stretch. "Ah, you feel so fuckin' good, doll, this is it - this is what I needed, huh? All I fuckin' needed - fuck - right fuckin' here."

"Hush," you whispered with an embarrassed smile, glancing back. "I need the shower head."

"I got us," he answered, holding you tight and standing with a small grunt. He easily grabbed the shower head, handing it to you, letting you rinse his hair out as he turned to pin you against the wall with his hips for balance.

"This isn't just sitting," you mocked, soap flowing down his shoulders and chest. "Close your eyes, please," you whispered, wiping the frothy suds from his face as he did. "God, your curls are magnificent, seriously, why does God give the best qualities to men - who don't even appreciate what they have?"

He laughed lightly, "Gotta get your attention somehow."

"Mhm, these lashes? Not even a drop of mascara," you mused, pecking the tip of his nose while one hand held his jaw. "And this jawline? Baby, this alone could cut glass."

"Like your nipples, right?" He teased, nipping your collarbones; both acutely aware of your pebbled nips dancing across his flesh each time you moved. He chuckled, readjusting you when you reached to set the shower head back in the holder; making sure it could cascade over the bench still. "We done?" He asked softly.

"Nope, got the conditioner," you rolled your eyes, holding his shoulders when he moved back for the seat; still firmly inside you. When he sat again, you released a high-pitched breath when the position pushed him further into you; your legs folding beside his thighs to keep the ideal grip.

"In a second," he smirked, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. "Just need this, yeah?" He spoke against your lips, licking into your mouth. "Been hiking with a fucking hard-on for days, love, just fuckin' need this," he hissed into your mouth, teeth raking over your bottom lip in a possessive bite. You moaned quietly, lost in the ministrations of kissing him like a drunk teenager, barely aware when he started moving your hips over him.

"Tan," you tried.

"C'mon, love, we both need it," he shook his head. "Tell me to stop and I will, but I think we both need this."

With a long sigh, you pet his cheek, deciding, "Fine, but we're taking it easy, you're still - " But then there was a loud knock at the bathroom door, Lemon calling your name in question. You slapped a hand over Tangerine's irritated mouth when he looked ready to yell his protest, answering, "What is it, honey, are you guys okay? What's wrong?"

"Yeah, just, uh... Can we order a couple things from room service? Bit starving, thinkin' something hot?"

"Oh, yeah, whatever you guys need!" You encouraged happily, Tangerine biting your palm and making your hand retract with a small whine and pout.

"Oi!" He called over the shower stream.

"Yeah?" Lemon was heard laughing.

"Don't run up her bill, mate!"

"It's okay," you whispered, pecking his forehead. "Get what you need, Lemon," you called, "but order Tangerine something to eat, too, please!"

"On it, love! Thank you!"

"Oh! Of course!" You beamed back at Tangerine, who offered you a mild look of annoyance.

"Now, why do that?" He asked, grinding your hips on his again. "Huh? Those two will eat you outta house and home, love."

"It's fine, you guys have been through a lot," you promised, connecting your lips in a long kiss. "Now, you wanna keep talking financials or put the rest of this hot water to use?"

"There's my girl," he grunted, standing from the bench to move fully under the water; pinning you to the wall again.

You grunted when you collided with the cold tile, but the warm tongue in your mouth was plenty distraction. You held his neck like it was your single tether to life, teeth clashing, tongues wagging, lips wet and creating obscene sounds the more intense the kisses turned.

"Fuck," you felt the air punch from your lungs when Tangerine pulled his hips back to start thrusting; brows furrowed together in concentration as he worked in and out of you at an already brutal pace. You didn't complain - he obviously needed this, and by God, it felt otherworldly.

"'Ats my girl, so fuckin' good for me," he muttered, needing this more than you have ever before; each hand holding a thigh to keep you spread open for his taking, hips hammering into yours as his balls slapped the apex of your cunt to echo around the room.

You felt incoherent when he picked up his speed, dropping his forehead to your shoulder when your head was thrown back as he worked you closer, closer, closer to your release. There was no thought in your mind, just Tangerine; drunk on his smell, taste, touch, never wanting this feeling to end.

Just outside the bathroom, Ladybug was accepting the room service order when he heard the messy, obscene noises coming from the bathroom; looking wide eyed at the closed door. Lemon laughed, "Might wanna walk away, Joburg, he don't like nobody listening in."

"Kinda hard to when they're that loud," he blanched when you released a pornographic moan as Tangerine readjusted his stance so his cock was piercing what felt like straight through you. Lemon laughed at Ladybug being startled so much he literally scurried away.

"C'mon, love," Tangerine panted.

"Go back," you moaned, pawing at his shoulders as you felt too slippery in this position.

"Huh?"

"Sit!" You insisted, him pulling back from the wall and backing up until the bench hit the back of his knees - dropping him. "There's my boy," you mocked, a hand on the wall, the other on his good shoulder, supporting you to vigorously ride him. You felt renewed energy now that he was obviously okay, only his bullet wound still weeping - something you'll patch up once out of the water.

"Oh, holy fuck," Tangerine moaned, louder than you would've thought; his head thumping back to the wall and losing all composure. "That's it, doll, keep like that - ohhh, fuck me!"

"Exactly what I'm doing, yeah?" You teased, moving your hand to his throat and keeping pressure enough not to fully choke his air supply, but enough to make him moan at the feeling.

His mouth dropped open as you rode him enthusiastically, feeling determined to reward him for coming all this way to track you down. Yeah, sure, for a moment, it was concerning, but now, you simply didn't care that three strangers had found your hotel room and now crashed with you.

Nothing mattered when this deliriously delicious cock was inside you.

"Jesus!" Tangerine moaned, hands to your hips to help you move, but it seemed the years in your youth as an equestrian was truly paying off. Call it muscle memory, but years after mastering the posting trot and the correct canter diagonal, you were riding Tangerine as if you'd drop dead if you didn't. And he felt it, he felt all of it. "Yeah, you're too good at this," he groaned, "so fuckin' good - Goddamnit - fuck me. Just like that, love, keep going - fuck, I'm right there."

You smirked, pushing his neck back so we was pinned to the wall now, his eyes locked with yours, mouth agape, your breasts bouncing with vigor. You squeaked when Tangerine braced his feet, his own hips thrusting up into you to match your movements; adding to both your mounting pleasures as the shower created a cloud of steam around you both in a welcomed lung-choking heat.

You honestly didn't mean to, but the absolute gut-wrecking pleasure you felt was enough for you to moan in Tangerine's ear, "Daddy."

It seemed the right word as Tangerine groaned in an echo, thrusting faster to the point you couldn't keep up. You could only moan, groan, squeak, cry-out as he jackhammered up into you - something that made Lemon and Ladybug exchange looks, gather their things, and rush back over to their adjoining room to leave you both a fraction of privacy.

"Yeah, tell Daddy how good it is," he seethed in your ear, opening his mouth, and biting down on your neck; hand tightly wound in your hair.

"So good."

"How good?"

"Too good, Daddy, please," you sobbed, braced on his shoulders and chest as his arms held you tight to let him thrust with abandon. "Oh, my God, oh, my God, oh, my God, yes, yes, yes," you praised, your orgasm rushing higher and higher to a new height. "Fuck," you moaned in his ear, "need this cock everyday. Went three days without, felt like I was losing my fucking mind."

"Feelin's mutual, love, so fuckin' mutual," he agreed, his cock swelling, "just needed t'get here, find yah again. Shit, fuck," he looked to where you were conjoined, praising, "gonna need yah home address - ain't no way we're goin' without one another, huh? Hey?"

"Yes, yes, yes," you squeaked, "there - there - there!"

His thumb pressed to your clit and you were done for. Grinding and humping into his hips, you crashed over the other side of your orgasm; feeling mildly limp as you slumped against his shoulder, letting Tangerine thrust a few more times.

"YES!" He shouted your name through clenched teeth, holding you with a vice grip as he bottomed out, balls contracting, squirting his full load inside you with shuddering breaths.

"Oh, my God," you sniffled, holding onto him as your legs were spent and you knew, the odds of you moving any time soon were slim to none.

"Yeah," Tangerine chuckled, leaning back to the wall as he panted; keeping hold of you. "Yah all right, love?"

"Uh-huh," you breathed, still absentminded.

"Yeah," he mused, pecking below your ear. "Just what the doctor ordered, huh?"

"Think the doctor would want your wound closed," you slowly sat off him, looking to the bloody hole and frowning as you pet around the irritated skin. He winced gently, making you frown, "Let's go, love, you need this tended to."

Only, when you dismounted, his cock flopping out of you once released, you tried to find your feet but only found the floor.

"C'mon, love, you just sit," he sighed, scooping you up and switching spots. He set you on the bench, stood, rinsed off under the water, readjusted the stream so it hit you a little better as he lathered conditioner into his curls with one arm.

"You're supposed to leave it sit for a bit," you tisked when he washed the conditioner out; shaking his curls.

"'S all right, still does the job."

"Your girlfriends never taught you haircare?"

He cleared his throat, looking a bit sheepish as he avoided your eyes. "Never really had one outside of secondary school. Job doesn't make dating the easiest, yeah?"

You furrowed your brows gently, then nodded, "Okay, well, just means you've room to learn, right?"

"Yeah, sure. You gonna teach me, love?" He mused, slicking his hair back in the water before shutting it off; wringing a few strands out.

"Why not?" You smiled. "But you gotta teach me something in return."

"Hmm? What's that you wanna learn?"

"How to shoot a gun."

He offered you a long look, seemingly skeptical. You accepted his hand and got from the bench, squeezing when the weight of your body made them tremble lightly. Stepping out, you both dried off with towels as he offered, "Why d'you think I know how to shoot a gun?"

"Tellin' me that Ladybug fellow is the only one? That's fine, I can ask him," you quipped, making him instantly respond,

"Nah, nah, nah, nah, don't do all that, I'll teach yah, love."

You smiled softly, wrapping your hair in a towel and approaching him - still naked. "Thank you," you whispered, kissing his lips in a soft, sweeping motion that made him hum in the back of his throat and reach for your bare arsecheek. "Now, c'mon, let's get you stitched up before you go startin' something you can't finish."

"You met me, love? I always finish," he gave a cheeky squeeze.

"Mhm, might be the last time, too, with this blood loss. Huh?"

He relented in a head nod and wrapped the towel around his hips, watching you shrug on a fluffy white robe and tie the sash. He took your hand, laced your fingers together, and exited the bathroom - only to come to a shocking halt.

There was blood trailed all over the room, medical supplies strewn around, and several food wrappers. "Told yah, love," Tangerine sighed.

"It's okay," you smiled, "they'll clean it."

"You're so sure?"

"I'm very persuasive," you eased. "C'mon, sit," you ushered him back to the bloodied sofa, figuring damage was already done and anymore blood wouldn't make much of a difference. You grabbed whatever material you could, snapping on rubber gloves and taking a deep breath. "Ready?" You asked Tangerine.

"One more kiss and you can have at it," he sighed, leaning in until you met him happily; offering several swipes of his tongue before resting his forehead on your own.

"It'll sting for a bit," you warned, holding the bottle of alcohol.

"C'mon, darlin', 's all right, I can handle - OH! FUCKS SAKE!" He cursed when you poured the disinfectant over his bullet wound.

In the next room, Ladybug and Lemon shared a look before snickering as if two juvenile boys at a sleepover. And honestly? Spot the difference.

requesting rules and masterlist

Bullet Train masterlist

[upsidedownwithsteve]

Eddie Munson x fem!reader x Steve Harrington requested by anon 18+

“Baby, you gotta be quiet.”

An impossible request, really. Especially when Eddie had been cruel and rolled down the window, smirking as he did. The van was parked amongst other cars, nestled near the back and the cinema screen was playing some B horror movie that you weren’t really paying attention to. 

How could you? You were on Eddie’s lap, legs spread and hooked over his, your skirt barely hiding the fact that your underwear had been pulled off, scrunched lace on the drivers side seat. You had your head thrown back, lazing against Eddie’s shoulder, your back to his chest and his hands were inside your shirt, hands palming over your tits, silver rings catching at your peaked nipples. 

“Good?” Eddie whispered in your ear, voice low and raspy. “I know it is baby, look’it how messy you’ve made Steve.”

The other boy was kneeling in the footwell of the van, an impossible task in his BMW and the only reason he let Eddie drive. He was a pretty sight, hands bracketing your thighs, thumbs pulling at your folds to spread you a little more and he’d been kitten licking at your clit for the first fifteen minutes of the movie. Nothing more, nothing less, just feather light touches with the tip of his tongue, soft and lazy drags that kept making you whine. Eddie had hushed you, grinning, threatening to roll down the window until he finally did. 

If anyone walked past, they’d hear you. Worse, they’d probably see the top of Steve’s head, the way it moved as he nuzzled further into you, how Eddie snuck one hand from your shirt to wind his fingers into Steve’s hair and pull him even closer. 

Steve groaned at the touch, let himself fall slack for the other boy, pliant as he allowed Eddie to guide him, swearing quietly as he was pulled by his hair, tongue still out and dragging from your needy hole all the way through your folds until he was flicking at your clit again. Over and over until your back was arching and you could no longer discern between your noises and the awful screeching on screen. 

Eddie’s teeth grazed your neck, nipped at your earlobe and you could feel how fucking hard he was underneath you, cock nestled between your ass cheeks, denim between you. His chin was hooked over your shoulder, pupils blown wide and eyes almost black in the dim evening light, trained on Steve’s face as he pushed him almost a little too roughly into the seam of your pussy. Steve’s lips were glossy with you, pink and swollen and Eddie couldn’t wait to lick you off of him after you’d came. 

A car door slammed from the row in front of you and you could just make out the wheels of the snack cart coming closer. Soon enough, a freshman would be knocking on the van window, asking if anyone wanted some popcorn. Eddie must’ve heard it too, ‘cause he was laughing softly, pulling your legs wider and letting his hand wander down to your cunt. He cooed, pulling the hood of your clit back until you gasped, showing you off to Steve. 

“Better make her come, Harrington, unless you both wanna get caught.” Eddie pouted, brows stitched together in faux upset, like he was disappointed in you both. You would’ve laughed if Steve hadn’t wrapped his lips around your swollen clit, tongue pulsing over it. “There you go, huh? You got it handsome, you’re gonna make our girl come so good, aren’t you, big boy?”

[stararch4ngelqueen]

grocery shopping with jason, beyond obsessed with doing domestic things with this big strong sometimes broody guy

Idk why the idea of Jason being the only sane person if the BatFam went to Costco or Sam’s club is funny to me.

Grocery shopping at night only. Jason is your scary dog privilege. I didn’t mean for this to be so short, I’ll probably do a target run at some point 😅

—

“Smell this one.” You hold up two various body washes for Jason to smell. One is a creamy, soft vanilla, the other is a fragrant, artificial strawberry with lilac leaves printed on the bottle.

“They both smell fine,” he insists after smelling them. “Why’re you asking me?”

“Cause I know you use it sometimes.”

He says nothing at this quiet truth. Maybe sometimes he’d reach for your bottle during his exhausted showers. Maybe he didn’t care if the smell clung to him for a good while. He didn’t mind one bit.

“That one.” He points towards the scent he preferred.

Essentials first. That was the quiet deal before getting produce. You loved asking for his opinions on a lot of stuff, since you practically ‘lived in the same bed.’

Jason didn’t particularly mind when he’d tread along with you when you wanted a new soap or lotion. Sometimes it was kind of amusing the array of options their turned out to be. You had a good nose, picking out scents he adored smelling on you every time he held you close, invading his hoodies every time you wore them.

“Do we have popcorn at home?” Came your first question after his arms settled snugly around your waist, holding you content to his chest.

“Half a box yeah, why?” You try to tilt your head up, but fail when Jason purposely rests his chin ontop.

“Just wondering,” he answers. “You ‘bout done here?”

“Yeah. Why? Too many single girls making eye contact?”

“More like a ton of single mothers.” He chuckles, breaking into a laugh when you lightly slap the back of his hand.

Checking for produce was a team effort. Sometimes you can’t remember if you have enough of this or that, but Jason’s good memory usually came in hand.

“You had one of these before?” You question whilst holding up a spiky, untrustworthy vegetable after grabbing some cheery looking bell peppers.

“Uh, no? Don’t think so. Don’t know how you would eat those.”

“We could ask Alfred,” you reply while slightly rocking the cart back and forth. “Anything else?”

“I’m thinking.” Jason keeps still, tilting his head back in thought. “I’m thinking got everything. Anything else you want, babe?”

You would say yes, but you don’t really know what you’re particularly in the mood for after filling up your shopping list, having extra money to spend.

This led to the both of you wandering around the store, slightly vacant due to most people settling at home, eating their meals or spending time with their families.

You peer along the freezer windows as you stroll by, nearly coming to a stop after examining some interesting coffee ice cream.

Bump.

The sudden soft prod of the cart frame against your behind made you scoff, turning over your shoulder to peer at a smirking Jason.

“Oops.”

“Rude!”

“Sorry. You walk too slow.”

Scoffing, you grab a bag of frozen blueberries and turn around, witnessing Jason quickly and carelessly toss a bag of frozen avocado into the cart.

“Hey, theirs a system Todd!” You step closer, quickly rearranging the produce and snacks back into their ‘original’ spots.

“Says the woman playing Tetris with our food.”

“The avocados crushing the bread!” You gesture towards the produce. You click your tongue and scoff again to Jason’s delight as you left the bread untouched.

Good thing too. You almost saw the ice cream he had hidden underneath it.

—

Going grocery shopping with the mans 🧍🏽‍♀️

[satoruhour]

Thoughts on poly with satosugu

a/n: long post LOL enjoy

howd you manage to get two of the most caring yet annoying boyfriends ever??? they feed off each others energy sm it’s insane lol good luck. but not in a bad way of course. it def started out when one man of the two was frustrated with the stagnancy and the mixed signals between the three of you that gojo decided to confess and the both of you dated for a while.

geto didnt rlly wanna intrude and felt bad even tho you three were still eye fucking basically every time u were in a room together. gojo was the first to ask you about it “no because ive thought of it too” and gojo’s face lights up bc teecchnically hes been texting geto always how its been a dream to date you even tho it rubs in the wound a little. but it’s ok!!!! im sorry suguru!!! all three of you are together now !!!! 

to start off they are very physical and clingy. always need to have some part of their body on you. gojo prefers the arm slinging over your shoulders, geto prefers a more subtle arm around the waist. ppl r always starin when you three go out 😭 but it’s so cute lowkey! gojo is usually the upbeat one, suggesting dates and places to go and things to do, creating the gc between the three of you (if u didnt alr have one), keeping the relationship fresh with a lot of questions. geto contributes more to the practicality of the rs?? not to say he doesnt talk or is passive in the poly rs but he’s more of a getting groceries, lounging in the back watching the two of you talk excitedly bout digimon, and likes the household chores kind of guy.

it feels like if i say this it’s too cheesy but gojo feels like a sunrise: the dawn of a new day and the adventures that it may bring while geto is like sunsets: the dusk of winding down after the exciting day and youre always craving both. gojo and geto complete each other in countless other ways too and the dynamic you three have is super adorable.

ill highlight a few scenarios bc theres too much potential and power w/ poly stsg!! watching movies: geto us usually okay with anything u two pick out and gojo picks out some psychological horror for funsies but hes screaming into geto’s arms at every jumpscare 😭 the popcorn goes everywhere good lord. you and geto laugh (in the case youre not too afraid of horror) laugh at gojo and pepper him in kisses even when he puts the blame on you for choosing this movie. “too scared that youre placing the blame on our poor (y/n)?” gojo tsks and swats away geto’s hand but is soon distracted by you pulling u into your embrace lol <3 the usual movie positions are like this: either the both of you latch onto geto’s sides, or youre tucked into geto and gojo sits on the floor, your head in either man’s laps and your feet on the other, you squashed in the middle of them both, gojo tucked in your hug while you are tucked in geto’s <333

going grocery shopping: it’s stocking up time and geto cant possibly handle bringing back all the groceries by himself so he brings you along and also (reluctantly) brings gojo. main reason is bc gojo likes to put a lot of things in the cart and begs with his pretty eyes of his that geto always gives in 😭 youre like semi-focused on the task. you put together the grocery list but then youre getting distracted when you see the fruits section and point at it excitedly to geto. gojo is somewhere in the store. sometimes you lead the expedition, pushing the trolley as geto and gojo walk together a few steps behind hand in hand. it changes a whole lot.

sometimes geto will head off to get something and youre left to push the trolley, with gojo by your side kissing your temples walking by your side. they will both sometimes play pranks on you and go off without telling u and run around the store hoping you wont find them LMAO, or even be so so embarrassing dancing in the middle of the aisles or putting their face up to the cameras that broadcast the footage on big tvs ….. also once you guys lost gojo and you had to make an announcement at the counter to call for a six foot man to meet you two at the cashiers….

it’s easy to feel insecure sometimes, or rather not getting enough love / feeling left out bc sometimes they both click so well together you cant understand their inside jokes or they act like boys again, hitting and laughing to each other about shoko fumbling utahime again or something. they apologise profusely, feeling guilty that they even made u feel like that, esp gojo since he has a tendency to initiate a lot of those jokes which you dont understand, or talk about man things lol. youre the sole focus of their eyes always and they show it even more today by pampering you, having a sleepover ish date night, you paint each other’s nails and do some skin care, gossip a little. geto and gojo compliments you a lot, even more so during this bout of insecurity. they fight over who gives better compliments 😭😭😭😭

but either way you bring both of them in to kiss them as a thank you. it’s so difficult to choose between the both of them for cuddling too bc theyre so warm always. you curl into geto first bc on this night you guys picked your fav movie (which also happened to be gojo’s fav) but you were feeling tired asf so the former let you rest up on him while hte latter had his eyes glued. and later when geto needs to clean up he passes you to gojo gently and you adjust yourself against his lanky body <3333 “she’s just so cute, ain’t she?” geto smiles, brushes your hair out ur face, placing a peck on your forehead and another on gojo’s lips. “rest up first, both of you. i’ll come in soon.”

overall best boyfriends ever; let me highlight some more scenarios which i think would happen: coddling over you when you get your period. geto holding your tummy and massaging it while gojo feeds u snacks. fighting over the blanket between the three of you. gojo runs cold at night, geto runs a little cold too so youre usually the mediator between the two of them. “just buy a bigger blanket!!!” and gojos up and ready to head out at 3am. “go to sleep satoru the stores not open rn.” “theft exists.” “no!” sometimes youd go on individual dates when the other cant make it, esp when you three have busy schedules. either two will ALWAYS promise to shower the third in affection once they return home from the date! sometimes when you three need to visit weddings, you’d be squashed in the middle dancing with them, two towers and the shorter one in between that it looks a little comical.

fighting about whose music is the best in the car and fighting over the au, fighting abt who gets to drive. gojo tries to squeeze into the stick shift bc sometimes he misses you two in the back seat :(((( they let you sit down on public transport if the car isnt possible. scary dog privileges, two of them. gojo sneers at anyone who wants ur number and tells them off, geto glares quietly, gojo thinks its bc of him but actually it’s all geto’s doing LMAOAOAO. loving the kisses they both give you: gojo a little more excitable and geto’s sensual and slower, will also fight over who you should straddle when your making out but u give them both equal attention. one will take over the other whos preoccupied with your lips. geto littering kisses down your neck while youre busy with gojo’s lips and vice versa 💟💟💟

sigh id love to be in a poly rs with them and id love to write n*sfw but my hands hurt toodles (i do have a stsg ask that is smutty tho ... will write that soon muahahha)

hello hello!

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[punkshort]

somewhere to run | 12. the trial pt.1

Pairing: sheriff!Joel x f!reader

Chapter Summary: Madeline preps you for the first day of the trial and shares a surprise witness being called to Patrick's defense, and Patrick requests to speak to you unexpectedly.

Chapter Warnings: language, smut (MDNI 18+), phone sex, m and f masturbation, dirty talk, mother issues (could be perceived as parental emotional abuse, and probably is), possessive!joel, recounting of previous DV and SA

WC: 7.2K

A/N: If anything in this chapter jumps out as you like 'I don't think that's how the law works', just move past it. I had Google and a dream.

Series Masterlist

The flickering florescent lights from the grocery store were starting to give you a headache as you slowly made your way up and down the aisles, occasionally stopping to grab a bag of chips or some mac and cheese. It was late. The store was quiet. You were supposed to be buying things to keep in your hotel room when you got to Austin, but you could hardly focus. You had the weekend to pack, buy supplies, and check into your room before meeting with Madeline on Monday. She was planning on using most of the day to prepare you for the trial, which was scheduled to start first thing Tuesday morning, and your nerves were a mess. And to make matters worse, Joel wouldn't be able to get to Austin until the morning of the trial.

The one silver lining was your divorce. Madeline felt confident after speaking to his lawyer that Patrick would be signing the papers this week. The cynical part of you wondered if there was a catch because Patrick was never one to take things lying down, but you tried to push it out of your mind. Instead, you focused on the variety of microwavable popcorn in front of you. Butter, lightly salted, movie theater... would you even notice much of a difference? You stepped forward to grab the first box you saw when another person unexpectedly walked right into you. You had been so lost in your own thoughts, you didn't even hear someone else coming down the aisle.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," you began. When you looked up to meet their eyes, the polite smile you had forced across your face immediately fell.

"Nikki, hi," you said, taking a small step back towards your cart. "My fault, I wasn't paying attention."

She tossed you a thin smile and not so subtly eyed you up and down.

"Haven't seen you in a while. Read anything good recently?" she asked icily, and you had to fight the urge to roll your eyes.

"Not really. I haven't had much time," you told her, averting your gaze down the empty aisle.

"Oh, that's right. I heard you're getting a divorce," she said with a little pout, and you nodded as the heat began to creep up your chest. "Gotta make sure all those papers are signed before you go jumping into someone else's bed, right?"

"Excuse me?" you sputtered, lips parting in surprise. You thought she would have been a little more subtle than that.

"I hope you at least made sure he was worth it before leaving your husband for him, because woman to woman, I gotta warn you... it's nothing to write home about," she told you with a wink. You frowned and took another step back.

"I'm not leaving my husband because of Joel-"

"Oh, no, of course not!" she said cheerily.

"N-no, really, nothing's going on-"

"Don't worry, your secret's safe with me," she whispered, giving you one more fake smile before turning on her heel and waltzing down the aisle, leaving you in shock.

"Jesus Christ," you muttered to yourself as you absentmindedly rubbed your eyes. Angrily, you reached out and snatched the box of popcorn before turning your cart in the opposite direction.

You hated the idea of someone in this small town having it out for you. She had been swaying the entire female population to turn on you just because she went on a couple dates with Joel and she figured out he had feelings for you, which was hardly your fault. But you thanked your lucky stars she didn't seem to know just how close you and Joel really were, because if she did, there was no doubt in your mind she would have spread that news like wildfire.

Impulsivity won and you swung your cart down the candy aisle, throwing far too many items into your basket.

To hell with Nikki. She had no idea what you were going through and you didn't have time for her high-school bullshit, so you forced yourself to move past it. Besides, you had much more important things to worry about. Like if you should buy Reese's or Snickers.

"I hate all my clothes."

"C'mon, they can't be that bad," Joel's voice filtered through your phone. You tapped the speakerphone button and dropped it onto your bed in order to free up both your hands, then held up two ugly blouses against your chest while you looked in the mirror.

"They really are," you told him, scrunching up your nose. "But Madeline told me if I wore stuff like this, it would look more sympathetic to a jury. Like I'm some poor, modest housewife in need of saving," you said with a roll of your eyes.

"Well, if Maddy told you to wear somethin' specific, you should listen to her. She knows what she's doin'. I've known her a long time, this isn't her first rodeo."

"Yeah, yeah, I know," you grumbled, picking up a couple of skirts that, in your opinion, were far too long and didn't make you feel very confident.

"You look beautiful in anything," he said, his voice dropping an octave lower.

"Thanks, but you're biased," you teased, and you heard a soft chuckle float through the speaker.

"Yeah, maybe," he agreed. There was a small pause as you continued to sift through your clothes, then he asked, "are you tryin' anythin' on right now?"

"No, once at the store was plenty," you huffed, then began folding the skirts up to place them in the bottom of your suitcase.

There was another pause before he spoke again.

"Then what are you wearin'?"

Your hands stilled and you sucked in a breath when you finally realized what he had been hinting at the past few minutes. Glancing down, you grimaced at your favorite pair of stained sweatpants and a tank top that had fraying straps, but you refused to throw it away because it made you feel skinny.

"A tank top," you finally answered, leaving out the part about your ratty old sweatpants.

"Mm, the white one?"

"Yes," you replied, your pulse already thrumming steadily in your throat at the line of questioning.

"Wish I was there with you," he said, his voice low just in case Sarah could hear from her bedroom. "I can see right through that top, drives me fuckin' crazy."

Glancing in the mirror, you realized he was right. You could see the outline of your nipples clear as day in the right lighting.

"Joel, is this a good idea?" you asked, but found yourself flopping down on your bed anyway next to your phone, your fingers dancing at your waistband.

"You're stressed, right?" he asked, his voice a little breathless now and you knew he must have been stroking himself. You've done this dance too many times.

"Yes," you whispered.

"Lemme help you relax, then."

You chewed on your lower lip as you stared up at your ceiling. You knew doing this with him complicated things and you were supposed to be able to take the stand in a few days and honestly say you weren't in a relationship with Joel, but the lines were too blurred and at this point, you had no idea how you would answer that question.

Then again, what difference would one more time make?

"Okay."

"Good girl," he murmured, and you felt yourself flutter at the praise. "Where are you right now?"

"I'm laying in bed," you told him, closing your eyes so you could focus just on his voice.

"And are you touchin' yourself?"

"No," you said, taking a deep breath. "But I want to." You heard him utter a soft groan.

"Go ahead. Just one finger and I want you to tell me how wet you are."

Slipping your hand under your waistband, you did as you were told, choosing the tip of your middle finger to slide through your folds and prod gently at your entrance.

"So wet," you murmured, then teased yourself again, collecting the arousal pooling there. "All wet because of you, Joel," you added breathily.

"Fuck, I wish I was there," he whispered again, and you slowly pushed your middle finger inside with a moan.

"W-what would you do?" you stammered as you felt the tension begin to build, a warm heat sparking low in your belly.

"I'd taste you first," he said lowly. "Only got to do it once, been dreamin' of doin' it again. You taste so fuckin' good, d'ya know that?" His accent deepened the more aroused he became, and it made your heart skip a beat.

"You're really good at it," you mumbled into the phone, your finger curling inside you, that one spot just out of reach.

"Tell me how much you liked it," he rasped, and a little groan slipped past your lips, your finger still pumping in and out.

"Loved it," you moaned, and you heard his heavy breathing now as he listened to you intently. "F-felt so good. God, that tongue... my thighs burned the next day from your beard. Felt it all night at work... thought about you s-so much. Fuck, Joel, I need more," you whined, your back arching pathetically.

"Add another finger and play with your clit, baby," he whispered, and you thought you could hear him fucking his fist on the other end, but his heavy pants drowned out the noise. You did as he said, gasping in relief at the extra stimulation while your legs began to shake.

"Joel-" you whimpered, but he cut you off.

"When this is all over, I'm gonna wake you up every mornin' with my mouth between your legs," he said with a grunt. "Would'ya like that? Hm? You want my tongue inside that tight little pussy? Want me to suck on your clit til you can't remember your name?"

"Oh, fuck, Joel, I-I think I'm gonna come," you cried out softly, tears pricking the corners of your eyes as your finger rubbed fast little circles over your clit, your hips rocking against the heel of your hand as you chased your release.

"Go ahead, lemme hear you. Say my name, baby," he panted, his voice cracking, and you knew he was close. "Tell me - shit - tell me I'm the only man who's ever made you come."

And you did just that.

You fell over the edge, his name tumbling from your mouth over and over as you soaked your own hand, and once you got your bearings, you moaned about how good he made you feel, how no one else could ever compare, how you couldn't wait until he was in your bed again because your own fingers no longer satisfied you now that you've had him. You kept talking until you heard a sharp intake of breath and a low, muffled groan on the other end of the line, leaving each of you quietly panting for air.

"Feel better?" he asked after a few minutes, and even though he couldn't see you, you smirked.

"Yes," you whispered. You could hear him shifting around in his bed, his sheets bunching up and the springs on his mattress squeaked. "I miss you," you added sadly, thinking about the one night you got to sleep in his bed. How comfortable you felt. How at ease it made you feel, and he wasn't even in the bed with you. Just being around him was all it took.

"Me, too. We're so close, baby. Just a few more days. A week, tops."

His words instilled a newfound vigor in you. The fear and anxiety you felt about the trial temporarily disappeared and instead, you felt powerful. In charge. Confident. And eager to take your life back.

Monday

"Have you heard from any of the other women?" you asked Madeline hopefully, and she gave you a quick shake of her head.

"Not yet. I'm sorry," she replied, knowing you were all crossing your fingers that some of the women Joel talked to in Philadelphia would change their minds and come forward, but as hard as he tried to convince them, they were all too scared to say something, putting you back at square one. He had high hopes for one girl in particular, Nina, but so far she had refused to answer his or Madeline's calls and time was running out. "Don't worry, hun. We still have all the evidence on our side. We have the medical records, I can prove years of abuse with that and testimony from the people you put us in contact with. I am confident we will win, regardless of the other victims," she told you, looking you dead in the eye, and you believed her.

"Okay," you replied, taking a deep breath and nodding your head. "And again, I'm sorry I couldn't get anywhere with my mom. Do you think we'll still do okay without her?"

Madeline sat back in her chair and slid her glasses off, holding them gently in her hands while giving you a look across her desk that made your stomach twist.

She had bad news.

"We would do just fine without her, but I found out this morning that she was subpoenaed by the defense."

You stared at her, not quite understanding what you were hearing.

"What does that mean?" you finally asked, and although you had an idea, you needed her to say it.

"She agreed to speak on Patrick's behalf."

Tears sprung up in your eyes but you quickly wiped them away, refusing to allow your mother to cause you any more pain. Before you could say anything, Madeline spoke up again.

"Don't let it upset you. They might think they're making a power move, but I'll destroy her on the stand, mark my words. It will only help our case and paint the picture of a lifetime of abuse," she told you, putting her glasses back on before looking back down at the file in front of her. You hadn't ever considered your relationship with your mother as abusive before. You just assumed most girls had problems with their mothers growing up. But if she was willing to help your husband over her own daughter, essentially supporting everything Patrick has done to you, then 'abusive' was really the only word you could use at that point to describe your relationship.

"Okay, what else," you asked hurriedly, looking down at your hands folded on your lap.

"Well since we are already on the shitty news portion of the day, I do have one more thing I need to mention, and before I tell you, just know you can do absolutely whatever you want, okay? Do not feel pressured to go through with it-"

"Just say it," you told her, and she took a brief pause before continuing.

"Patrick asked to speak to you before the trial. He's holding the divorce papers as a hostage. Says he will sign them if you speak to him."

Your eyes shot up to meet hers in shock.

That was not something you were expecting to hear.

"W-why would he want to talk to me?" you stammered, and you could feel your heart beginning to pound louder in your chest, the fear and anxiety quickly taking hold yet again, just like it always did when it came to Patrick.

"My guess? He probably wants to convince you to drop the charges in exchange for a divorce. And that is something we are not going to do, understand me?" Madeline said, narrowing her eyes at you. "If my hunch is correct, he's scared. He knows he's going to lose and he is desperate. We do not need him to play nice here. I can get a judge to grant an annulment if he won't sign, it will just prolong everything a little more, but the end result will be the same."

The idea of your divorce taking even longer made your blood boil. You wanted to be with Joel. You wanted this to be over. It was only supposed to be a few more days... a week, tops.

Madeline could tell you were spiraling because she put her pen down and stood up from her chair.

"You don't have to talk to him. You are under no obligation to hear him out. We can just go through with everything the way we planned-"

"I'll talk to him," you said quietly.

"I have to give you my honest opinion here. I don't think it's a good idea."

"I'm not going to drop the charges, but... I don't know. Maybe I can convince him this is over. And if not, I'll just get up and leave," you told her firmly, and she examined you carefully before sighing.

"Alright. I'll contact his attorney and set something up in the morning. If you change your mind, you let me know. Night or day, five minutes before you walk into that room, it doesn't matter, okay? You don't have to do this."

"I know," you said, "I want to."

Madeline spent the rest of the day briefing you on what to expect for the trial. After opening statements, Madeline would argue your case with the evidence she collected and the witnesses she subpoenaed, then Patrick's lawyer would have the opportunity to cross examine and afterwards, it would be their turn to defend Patrick with their own witnesses before closing statements and deliberation. Madeline guessed the whole thing would take two or three days at the most, and that gave you some relief. No matter what happened, this would be over by the end of the week.

"I'll call you to the stand last," Madeline said. "It's best if your testimony is freshest for the jury, especially right before the defense states their case."

"Okay. And what do I do when I'm up there? Should I look at the jury or the judge, or just you?"

"Look wherever you feel comfortable, but don't offer any extra information outside of the question being asked. We'll rehearse the questions I'm going to ask before you leave today, and when it comes time for the defense to cross examine, give as little information as possible. Yes or no answers. And they'll try to get you upset - don't let them. That's important, okay?"

"Yes," you said with a nod. "I understand."

After you ran through the questions, Madeline sent you back to your hotel room with the list for you to review and practice on your own, but your head was pounding by the end of the day. Your eyes burned and your mind was racing and all you wanted to do was sleep, but your body wouldn't let you. You ended up pacing around your room and trying not to let your anxiety about seeing Patrick in the morning torment you. You had just found a mindless cooking competition show to put on to help distract you when your phone pinged next to you on the nightstand.

Joel: All ready for tomorrow?

You: I think so, but I'm nervous. Can't sleep.

Pausing for a moment, you added another text.

You: I'm meeting with Patrick in the morning before it starts.

It took less than two minutes for your phone to ring.

"What d'you mean? Why're you meetin' with him?" Joel's voice asked aggressively the moment you answered the call.

"He's holding out signing the papers until he speaks to me," you explained. "He says he'll sign them if I talk to him. I figured there's no harm, he can't hurt me-"

"No harm?!" Joel exclaimed, and you quickly stopped talking. "All he does is harm! The fuck are you thinkin'?" he asked, sounding less angry and more upset now.

"Madeline said it'll take longer to get a divorce if he refuses to sign. I just want this over with, Joel!" you said, your voice beginning to break. "I don't want to wait a few more weeks or months. I'm fucking done! And if listening to whatever he has to say for twenty minutes gets him to sign the goddamn papers, then I'll do it! Because I can't do this anymore!" you sobbed into the phone, the tears you fought to hold back all day finally coming to the surface.

"Okay, okay, calm down," he said soothingly, and you took a few shaky breaths in. He waited until your breathing steadied before speaking again. "What time are you supposed to see him?"

"8:30," you said, wiping your tears away with the back of your hand.

"Alright, I'll be there," he said. "Just in case. I wanna be there."

"You can't come in the room with me, Joel."

"You can't go in alone," he argued.

"Madeline said the conference room they booked has a door with a window. You can both watch from the hall."

He grumbled to himself on the other end and you waited, chewing on your lower lip nervously, for him to say something.

"One wrong move and I'm puttin' his head through the fuckin' wall," he muttered.

"That wouldn't exactly help your lawsuit," you reminded him.

"You let me worry 'bout that," he said, and you yawned. He must have heard you because his voice softened. "You gotta get some sleep. Big day tomorrow."

"I know," you replied, and although you felt like you wouldn't get much restful sleep, your eyelids were still getting heavy.

"I'll be there bright and early, alright? And I'm stayin' til it's over."

"What about Sarah?" you asked sleepily.

"She's stayin' at a friend's house. Couldn't be more excited about it. Practically kickin' me out," he said with a chuckle.

You laughed as you stared blankly at the TV, watching some poor girl cry when her crème brûlée burnt. "I'll see you tomorrow, then."

Joel bit his tongue on the other end of the call, holding back the words he really wanted to say but knew it wasn't the right time. Instead, he said "good night, baby. See you in the mornin'."

Tuesday

As expected, you tossed and turned all night. It was clear as day when you caught your reflection in the mirror and winced at what you saw. The bags under your bloodshot eyes wouldn't be tamed by the concealer Maria bought you so long ago, but you tried your best, anyway. After picking out the least ugly shirt and skirt combination, you made sure your hair looked decent before taking a deep breath and stepping out the door of your hotel room.

The first step towards your freedom.

You were proud of yourself. You had actually managed to not let the nerves get to you until you entered the courthouse and saw Madeline tapping away on her phone, wearing a dark blue pantsuit and hair pulled back in a simple bun, with a black leather suitcase hung over her shoulder. She looked up when she heard you approach, giving your outfit a nod of approval before enveloping you in a quick hug.

"You ready?"

"Ready as I'll ever be," you said, giving her a nervous smile. Your hands were beginning to shake as she walked you down a secluded hallway towards the conference room she had booked for your conversation with Patrick. You could feel your chest tighten with every step you took, but when you turned the corner and saw Joel leaning up against the wall in a brown suit with another man you didn't recognize but assumed was Patrick's lawyer, you instantly felt relief. When his eyes locked with yours and he gave you a small smile, you felt even calmer.

You could do this.

"Last chance. Are you sure you want to do this?" Madeline said next to you. Glancing through the window in the door, you saw Patrick sitting at the table in a rumpled jumpsuit, his handcuffed arms resting on the table as he stared down as his fingernails. You nodded and looked at Patrick's lawyer.

"Does he have the divorce papers, or do you?"

The lawyer gave you a polite smile before replying "I do, miss."

You nodded before taking a deep breath, and glancing at Joel one more time to remind yourself why you were doing this, you twisted the doorknob and stepped into the room.

Patrick lifted his head up when you walked in and gave you half a smile, but you just shut the door behind you and walked to the other end of the table, as far away from him as you possibly could get, and sat down.

He stared down the table at you, giving you his most charming persona, the side he always brought out when he knew he had gone too far and wanted to make amends. You folded your hands calmly on the table and tilted your head to the side, waiting for him to speak. Minutes ticked by, inching closer and closer to your trial time as you waited, refusing to be the one who bent first.

"New clothes?" he finally asked, and you quirked an eyebrow.

"Yeah, looks like you got some new clothes, too."

You patted yourself on the back for the jab, but you didn't show a hint of the smugness you were feeling when you saw a quick scowl flit across his face.

"Alright," he said, leaning back in his hair and lifting his hands up in mock defeat. "You win."

"What did I win?" you said with a frown.

"This," he said, motioning between the two of you. "You want outta this so badly, fine. I'll sign the papers. I'll leave you alone."

"Great," you said, trying to keep the tremble from your voice.

"You gotta drop these charges, though, baby. This shit could get me killed, you know that?"

"Don't call me baby."

He sat forward suddenly, making you flinch. "What the hell do you want me to call you, then?"

You took a steadying breath and glanced at the door, catching Joel's eye before looking back at Patrick.

"I'm not dropping the charges."

He shrugged and dropped his hands loudly on the table. "Then I ain't signing the papers."

You looked at Joel again. His lips were pressed in a thin line as he watched the two of you and you wondered if he could hear anything through the door.

"What about the charges against Joel? Would you let it go and sign if I dropped the charges?" you asked quietly, and that caught Patrick's interest. He smirked and folded his hands on the table.

"Oh, no. Can't do that. I got your boyfriend right where I want him. Got a rockstar witness that'll help me take him for all he's got. Hope that kid of his is smart, she's gonna need to get a scholarship for college. Daddy ain't gonna have two dimes to rub together when I'm done with him."

Your jaw clenched and your nostrils flared as you stared at Patrick across the table, doing your best to rein in your anger and not say something stupid.

"You don't have shit against him," you spat, and true to form, he couldn't help himself. He just had to show his hand.

"Bullshit. Got that girl he was on a date with that night at the bar willing to testify he had it out for me, that he was obsessed with you and would do anything to get rid of me," he sneered, looking quite pleased with himself.

You bit down on the inside of your cheek. You knew Nikki was pissed, but this was going too far.

"Then it doesn't sound like we have anything else to talk about," you said, standing up. You made your way to the door, passing by his chair, when he spoke once again.

"You're not gonna win, you know. They don't put cops in jail. Juries feel too guilty, knowing how dangerous it is."

You looked down at him, finally seeing him for who he really was: a pathetic, desperate, sad excuse for a man. No matter how long it took for Madeline to finalize your divorce, you would do it the right way. You've suffered for years, a few more months wouldn't kill you.

And then you would be free.

"Hope you're willing to bet your life on that," you said before turning on your heel and swinging open the door.

Joel was at your side in an instant, following you and Madeline down the corridor towards the courtroom.

"Do I even want to ask?" Madeline said over her shoulder.

"You were right. He wanted me to drop the charges in exchange for signing the papers," you told her, then glanced up at Joel by your side. "I said no. We're doing this the right way."

"Good," they both said at the same time. Your hand itched to reach out and hold his, but you knew you couldn't, so you settled for gently brushing your knuckles against the back of his hand and you saw the corner of his mouth twitch.

When you entered the courtroom, which was much smaller than you expected, your eyes immediately drifted around to the scattered few people seated in the spectator chairs. You had completely forgotten about your mother, and seeing her sitting there, on the other side of the room as your cousin, with her hair pulled back tightly and wearing a navy blue dress you hadn't seen before, sent you into shock. Fortunately, she stared straight ahead, avoiding your penetrating gaze, so you looked away and made eye contact with your cousin, who gave you a tight smile and a thumbs up.

Then you heard Joel suck in air next to you and you glanced up at him, following his gaze to Michelle, who was seated a few rows behind the plaintiff's table.

"What's she doing here?" you tried to mutter under your breath.

"Don't know," he replied quietly, turning his focus away from her.

Madeline swung open the doors for you to step through and take a seat behind the desk, where she joined you and began to open up her briefcase and spread out all her files on the table. Joel slid into the row of chairs right behind you, and if you took a deep breath, you could smell him. Gone was the putrid cologne, the only thing he ever had in common with Patrick besides his profession. All that you could smell was him. His natural, masculine scent mixed with a subtle hint of his deodorant and some hair product. A smell you had grown to love and crave.

Glancing at the clock on the wall, you noticed you had less than five minutes before the trial began. More people began to stream in. Witnesses on both sides, some you recognized and some you didn't. A few cops that you knew were close with Patrick on the force sat together in full regalia, no doubt trying to win favor with the jury with their choice in clothes, just like you.

You had a chance to look at Joel just one more time, one fleeting smile and wink from him before the doors swung open. Patrick and his lawyer marched up to their table, both of them avoiding looking in your direction as they got settled in just in time for the bailiff to announce for the room to rise, and moments later the judge and jury walked in.

You were holding up better than you expected. All of these months of preparation finally paid off. You were more confident after each witness Madeline brought up to the stand. She started with a couple old co-workers of yours, who didn't have much to say other than they had asked you a few times about your bruises and you had made up excuses, but they always suspected something else was going on. Patrick's lawyer stood up and objected when they hinted at your husband being the cause, and the judge agreed. Madeline backed off her line of questioning and once she was satisfied, announced no further questions before sitting down. Patrick's lawyer - Beckett Kennedy, you learned - chose not to question them further.

Next was your cousin, Mary, who testified she knew Patrick was hurting you, but as Beckett would clarify for the jury later under cross examination, had no proof other than your word. She explained how you continually went to her for help, that she helped you get on birth control without Patrick's knowledge, and how you confided in her the night before you fled to Texas.

The next witness in your defense was Carol, the doctor Joel had brought you to after Patrick's most recent assault.

That was when things got rocky.

There were blown up images of your injuries being projected in front of the entire room, including some that blurred out your privates, but you still found to be absolutely humiliating. You fidgeted in your seat, trying not to show too much emotion as Carol explained in great detail all of the injuries you had sustained not only that day, but historically as well. Madeline called into evidence your old medical reports from the hospitals back in Philadelphia, and Carol gave her expert opinion on each one, explaining in layman's terms what each and every note meant so that the jury could understand.

Every single cut, bruise, laceration, and broken bone was discussed as you stared down at your hands in your lap, your cheeks burning. You heard Joel shift behind you in his seat and you tried to take a deep breath, tried to catch his scent to calm you, but you were too far away or maybe it wasn't strong enough and the urge to turn around and bury your face in his neck for comfort was overwhelming.

Finally, Madeline finished up with Carol, thanking her for her time before sitting down next to you. She gave you a wink, trying to reassure you everything was going smoothly, and you gave her a small smile in return.

Beckett then got up to cross examine Carol. He tried to poke holes in her medical expertise, tried to question her knowledge about sexual assault and if she could truly be considered an expert in that particular field of study when she was just a general practitioner but Carol sat tall and told the court she was an OBGYN for ten years and that she very much had a vast amount of knowledge in the area of female anatomy.

After Beckett insultingly tried to suggest pap smears and the occasional birth could hardly make Carol an expert in trauma, she was excused.

"We have time for one more witness, Maddy," Judge Dean, an older man with bright blue eyes and absolutely no hair on his head, announced before she stood up and took a deep breath.

"The prosecution calls Sheriff Joel Miller to the stand."

After Joel raised his right hand and swore to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, he sat down and adjusted his blazer, then glanced at Madeline expectantly. She gave him a warm smile and started slow. She thanked him for traveling all the way to Austin to give his testimony, asked him to verify how long he had been town sheriff, and asked him to give an approximate idea of how many incidents he had encountered in his tenure for domestic or sexual abuse.

"So it sounds like you're no stranger to this type of crime."

"Unfortunately, no," he replied.

"The plaintiff didn't call the police when she was assaulted, is that correct?" she asked.

"That's correct."

"Can you explain how you came to find out she was hurt?"

Joel took a deep breath and glanced quickly at you before looking back at Madeline. "She works as a waitress at the diner in town. See her almost every day for lunch. One day she called in sick, I had a hunch somethin' was wrong and her apartment's on the way back to work, so I stopped to do a wellness check on her."

"What caused you to have a hunch, sheriff?"

"The day before, I saw the plaintiff and defendant at a coffee shop. I witnessed the defendant put his hands on the plaintiff in an aggressive manner and it raised some red flags," he explained calmly.

"And when you went to her apartment to do a wellness check, what did you see?" Madeline asked, looking up from her legal pad with her glasses perched on the tip of her nose. You dropped your gaze to your lap. You could remember that day vividly. The shame and embarrassment and the pain all came rushing back, and you tried to blink the tears away as you focused on Joel's answer.

"It was clear the plaintiff had been attacked," he began, and only because you knew him so well, you could hear the slight strain in his voice. "She had a gash on her forehead, a split lip, a bruise on her cheek and scratches all down her neck."

Madeline hummed as she picked up the remote for the projector and flipped through the images that Carol had gone over. She stopped on a picture of your face with wounds that matched Joel's description and you noticed out of the corner of your eye a few jurors shake their heads sadly.

"Are these images the injuries you're describing, sheriff?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"After you performed the wellness check, what happened?" Madeline asked, setting down the remote but leaving the picture of your beat up face on the monitor. You knew she was doing it to garner sympathy and help paint the picture Joel was describing, but it made your stomach turn.

"I encouraged the plaintiff to seek medical treatment and press charges."

"And that is when the plaintiff visited Dr. Carol Parker, correct?"

"That's correct."

"I noticed at the same time, the defendant was in holding, is that true?" Madeline asked, and Joel nodded.

"Yes."

"Why was he arrested, sheriff?"

"He was drunk and disorderly in public the night before, so I took him in to sleep it off."

"Were those the only charges against him?" she asked.

"No. He also punched me when I was attempting to make the arrest, so he was also charged with assaulting a police officer."

"And when the plaintiff came to the station to give her statement, that was when the additional charges were filed, correct?" Madeline asked, picking up the remote to switch to a slide of the long list of charges against Patrick.

"Correct."

"I also see here a restraining order was filed to protect the plaintiff."

"Correct."

"And did the defendant obey the restraining order?"

"No, he did not," Joel said, straightening up in his seat. "He showed up at the plaintiff's place of employment and tried to intimidate her. Threatened her." You closed your eyes for a moment, remembering that night when Tommy and Thor stood up for you. How scared you were, how hopeless you felt and then Joel arrived, and you felt like you could breathe again.

"And the police were called then?"

"Yes. Maria Miller, one of the owners of the diner, called down to the station and spoke with my deputy, who then called me on his way down to the diner and I met up with him there."

"To arrest the defendant for violating the restraining order?"

"Yes, that's right."

"And did you?" Madeline asked, leaning against the desk and crossing her ankles in front of her.

"Not that evening, no. He couldn't be found," Joel said. You stiffened in your seat, bracing for what was coming next.

"Can you tell me what happened after you arrived at the diner?"

Joel swallowed and glanced briefly in your direction again before answering. "I took the plaintiff back to her apartment so she could get some things and stay elsewhere for the night. We were worried the defendant would try to harm her and thought it best she stay away from her residence until he was apprehended," he said, pausing for a moment. "But when we got there, it was clear the defendant had already broken in-"

"Objection," Beckett announced suddenly.

"Sustained."

"Allow me to rephrase," Madeline said, pushing off her desk. "What did you witness when you arrived back at the plaintiff's apartment?"

"It appeared the place had been broken into," Joel began. "Her belongings were destroyed. There were holes in the drywall, dish-ware broken, graffiti on the walls, and what smelled like urine in her bed."

Madeline used her remote to flip to images of your apartment from that night, and when the one of your bathroom came onto the screen, you heard a low murmur from the people behind you.

"According to my notes, you sent out a pair of officers to process the scene the next morning, along with a forensic analyst, is that correct?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"I would like to draw your attention to exhibit 6C, the forensics report," Madeline said, clicking the remote to another slide where a document appeared with the label Exhibit 6C at the bottom. "What can you tell me about this report, sheriff?"

"Objection. The witness can hardly be considered a forensics expert, your honor," Beckett said, standing up.

"I believe he's proven he has many years of experience and can answer basic questions," Madeline argued. "I will wait until tomorrow to question the forensics analyst in more detail, but I believe the sheriff has the ability to answer one simple question today."

The judge looked back and forth between Madeline and Beckett as he considered his answer.

"Be careful, counselor," he warned Madeline, then turned to Joel. "Go ahead."

"The DNA taken from the mattress matched the sample we took from the defendant at the station, so we brought additional charges against him for breaking and entering once he was arrested."

"And when did you finally arrest him, sheriff?"

"The following day."

"Can you please describe for the court how and where you found the defendant?" Madeline asked, leaning against the desk again. You nervously twisted your fingers in your lap as you listened.

"We found him in a crack house with some locals and a couple prostitutes."

"Did he resist arrest?"

"No, this time he was too high and passed out-"

"Objection!" Beckett yelled. "Speculation, your honor."

"Sustained," the judge said, frowning at Joel, but Joel just kept his gaze trained on Madeline.

"No further questions, your honor," Madeline said, turning on her heel to sit back down next to you.

"Your witness," the judge said with a nod in Beckett's direction, and a smug smile spread across his face before he stood up. He paced in front of the bench for a few moments, trying to build up the anticipation, and it was working. Your heart was thundering in your chest as you watched him walk slowly back and forth, but Joel appeared to be perfectly calm as he waited for his first question.

When he stopped pacing and you saw the look on Beckett's face, you knew exactly what was coming. It was the moment he had been waiting for. The bombshell. Their only chance at swaying the jury in their favor thus far, and he was ready to strike.

"Sheriff, have you ever had sex with the plaintiff?"

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