#the fact he's still lawyer is a miracle

[turnaboutstar]

I would be questioning my career choices too if I was him too ngl

[nectardaddy]

BITTER . . . kyotani “mad dog” kentaro + f! reader

                     𖥔    CHAPTER ONE : ACCOUNTABILITY    𖥔

warnings : 17+ to read, language, addiction, illegal activities, brief allusion to harassment

She's ordered to take ten anger management sessions, but she doesn't even believe she can last one.

The air is cold, and cuts right through her jacket - a hand me down hoodie from her older sister. Weezer, a shitty band in her own right, plastered far too big for her liking across the back. It's too thin to actually break the cold, but it's at least something to cover her arms.

She went to the community center despite her well wishes. But the courts and judges don’t give a damn about wishes and prayers, so she went anyway with a nervous gut and chink in her armor. She doesn't remember the  building to be so big, so daunting. She frankly doesn't remember anything past six months, as she was too high to care about anything else than her next drug run. So she lingers outside, in the cold, by herself and waits.

Her nerves are shot and she's tired, working odd hours at a nearby gas station made her eyes dark and lifeless. The only glimmer of hope is that she's able to sneak a few packs of cigarettes every week, a five finger discount as she called it, and blame the off counts on other addicts that frequent the parking lot. She knows a handful of them, and she feels bad sometimes about blaming them. But the feelings stop just as quick as they come, because she knows they'd throw her under the bus just as fast.

She takes the cigarettes from her hoodie pocket and opens them, only three left and a lighter. She'll need more than just three to get her through the rest of the day, because in her mind, nicotine is a hell of a lot better than cocaine. The first drag hits her hard, the cold air mixed with smoke makes her want to cough, but she swallows hard before it gets too bad. The second, calms her nerves and she feels her shoulders finally drop. The third, she hears her phone ping and she forgets about the serene feeling entirely.

Flipping it open, she reads a text from her lawyer. Real straight laced guy, no nonsense, but damn good for a court appointed guy. The fact he got her out of going back to jail was a miracle within itself.

Suit, sent at 8:19: Session starts at 8:30 today. Are you there?

She replies with a quick, “yeah,” before she closes it and sighs. Eleven minutes until she has to face her fears and enter the building. It's not as if she cares about anger management, she'd go head first if it were anywhere else, take the stupid classes and be done. But this building held memories and a dark past. Held a part of her she had long forgotten about, a part that felt safe enough to share her grievances with other strangers with the same nasty habit.

The only solace she found now was in a pack of cigarettes and her fist through her bedroom door.

Anger was relatively new for her. She read somewhere that extended drug use could flip one's personality on its head, fry the brain, and struggle to make pathways. She thinks that's why she wants to grit her teeth and let her fist fly when the washing machine breaks for a third time in a month, when she used to just sigh and shrug it off.

All the drugs made her bite the hand clean off of anyone that wanted to help - but she's six months sober and still feels the same way.

Her cigarette is almost burnt down when a man approaches her - three more minutes and she would have to go inside - and she takes her chances with staying out in the cold. He's got dark eyes, a permanent scowl, with remnants of a formerly busted lip, and an aura that told her to get away. His attire matched the energy - a punk through and through. For a second she thought she should go inside, but a quick look at the building made her want to heave.

He approached her in a lazy stride as he took a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. If it was one thing she knew like the back of her hand, it was an addict. He was jittery, standoffish, and when his eyes met hers it seems like she's a godsend.

“You gotta light?” His voice was rough, gravelly, like he just rolled out of bed and decided to show up.

“Yeah, hold on.” She fishes the cigarettes out of her pocket again and plucks out the lighter. He's already got the smoke between his lips, and she catches his hand shaking when he reaches out his palm. Addict. “Here.”

He recoils and the cigarette almost falls from his lips. “Are you fucking with me?” He sounds offended, looking at her like a crazed woman when all she really did was offer him the only lighter she had.  

“What?”

“You stupid or something?” That strikes a nerve.

“Are you stupid?” She repeats, but her words have a bite to them. A singe she can feel in the back of her throat, “it's just a lighter, jackass. Light your cigarette or fuck off somewhere.”

“You're the one offering someone a white lighter, Weezer.” She feels her blood pressure rise over the interaction, all this over a god forsaken lighter. And the quick note of the band name on her hoodie makes her bite her tongue. “They're bad luck, ‘put a countdown on your head if you use one.”

“Maybe you could use the countdown.” She pulls the lighter back with a grimace and puts it back in her pocket.

He rolls his eyes, the kind where she thinks they might just stay back in his skull, before he walks off. Muttering under his breath, “can't even smoke in peace,” until he's out of ear shot and can't hear what else he has to say.

“Asshole.”

The room is stuffy and cramped, she feels like she can't breathe because right down the hallway is the door that leads to hell. There's a weight in the air as she looks around, everybody there looks the same type: bad news. There's a guy who's twice her age, and old enough to make it seem like he has no fight left in him - the scowl and black eye tell her differently. There's a woman around her age, maybe a little younger, but looks jittery and skittish - probably went barking up the wrong tree. And the others fall in between the two extremes - normal looking but a festering anger that radiated from them like a space heater.

But the chairs are in rows, and she thanks the stars it's not a circle.

The door to the room opens again and her eyes flicker over in a bored attempt to stay busy. She knows him, Yaku Morisuke, went to high school with him years ago and knows he's one bad decision from committing a felony. His eyes meet hers, and for a moment he looks relieved, before his lips pull into a sly smile and he makes his way over.

“There's no way they got your ass in here,” he's teasing but there's a hint of the same old dissonance. She doesn't believe the man has a shred of kindness in his body, but she finds herself chuckling anyway.

He sits beside her. She's seen him here and there since graduation, doesn't remember if she saw him during her benders, but knows they talked right before she went to jail the first time.

Possession: one count.

He hasn't changed much since then; the first time in means she didn't stay long. The only thing that has changed is his demeanor. Not as flighty as he used to be, more aggressive than usual. “Not surprised to see you here though, it's a shocker they didn't send you sooner.”

He laughs. “They have, three times actually.”

“Shit, Morisuke,” she laughs, but isn't surprised. “What the hell did you do?”

“Apparently it's frowned upon to hit someone with a bottle in a bar.” He talks about it like he's proud of it and gives her a cheeky smile. “Could've fooled me though, I've seen it in a ton of movies.” She remembers him to be a terror in high school, standing at 163cm with a rage topping him out at 195cm. She's seen his eyes go red, and kept it noted to steer clear of the receiving end. Good to know he’s only gotten worse.

Then she gets the question she always does.

“How've you been?”

The answer is immediate, practiced, and honed. “I'm good.” A complete and utter lie. The last time she was even remotely good was before she ever stepped foot in this place to sit in uncomfortable metal chairs and talk about her feelings. “Been setting myself straight finally.” Not a complete lie, but even she feels the sense of doubt in her words. Then she repeats the phrase that everyone is looking for, the only phrase they care about. “I'm clean.”

“Hell yeah,” he gives her a smile. He seems genuine, but there's always some underlying message when people ask.

Sometimes it's religion, that she should find god and it would help her stay clean - god is the one who destroyed her life in the first place, so she always declines. For others it's morbid curiosity, an addict is like an animal at the zoo, they finally get to see one in real life - she always feels prodded at with this one. More often than not, it's to make themselves feel better - they may be fucked up but at least they're not as fucked up as her.

She doesn't say anything else, only gives him a half hearted smile. Then the door opens and closes again, and it's the same asshole from outside.

She notices Morisuke's demeanor changes when he does, rolling his eyes and sitting back in the chair. The blonde’s got his arms crossed, and if he wasn't so small and thinly framed she would actually be a little cautious.

“You know that guy?”

“Yeah,” he groans. She sees a glimpse of the Yaku from high school, and why he's in here in the first place. His jaw is tight and he's opening and closing his fist, a shitty attempt to calm himself down as it's obviously not working. Something happened between the two but he leaves it unsaid. “That's Mad Dog.”

She makes a weak attempt to stifle a laugh, only it catches the guard dog's attention. He's got eyes that could kill her, and for a fraction of a second she thinks she's ok with that. Hopes the man chops her into tiny little pieces, then she wouldn't have to bear the thought of passing the door to hell on the way out.

But he looks away and she's left unscathed.

The man sits down, too close for comfort to the pair and she sees Yaku visibly stiffen. He's only a few chairs away but the blonde next to her seems like he'd rather be on the opposite side of the country.

“What kind of name is that?”

“A name you get when you're one felony away from your third strike.”

She doesn't ask any more questions.

The class starts after that. It's boring, and it drones on. The therapist is a nice woman, kind hearted, but has something to her that lacks all fear. She can tell she's molded the class to what fits her, what protects her from a room full of court ordered rage machines.

The class doesn't introduce themselves. Doesn't go around in a circle and say their name or drug of choice; in this case, offense of choice. It's different than what she expected, but the room two doors down still burns a hole in the back of her mind.

She's supposed to be learning how to recognize her anger, how to fix it, but all she can think about is the bounce in her knee. She focuses on it, the tapping of her shoes was quiet, but loud to her as she counted every one.

57. 58. 59.

If she counts, she doesn't think about drugs. If she counts, maybe she'll forget about the drugs entirely.

It never works out that way though. She counts, she hits 200, then she feels like ripping her hair out at the root. Like screaming until her throat feels raw, then clawing at it to get it to work again. But she keeps counting regardless, and hopes by the time she reaches 200 the class will be over.

123. 124. 125.

She needs another cigarette, if the class wasn't a restriction on her life, she would've gone and smoked by now. But she swallows hard and keeps tapping her foot. Yaku looks over at her, it goes unnoticed, but she feels him nudge her shoulder.

“What?” She's whispering, but it still comes out in a snap. He grimaces, he's one second away from telling her off but bites his tongue - maybe the three classes were finally working out for him.

“Chill out.” He's annoyed, and his gaze is as sharp as a knife.

She mumbles a small, “sorry,” before she stops all together. Now she's just counting and her eyes are looking for anything and everything to focus on.

They catch the guard dog's again.

He's got the same fidgety demeanor as her. It makes her wonder what his drug of choice is, or if he was that reliant on nicotine. He doesn't back down and he keeps his eyes on her - a silent admission that he didn't bow to anyone. So she looks away first and sighs to herself.

There's a speck of empathy for him, the guard dog. Lost humanity makes you do stupid things, detrimental things, illegal things. But the empathy gets wiped clean off at the remembrance of the exchange in the morning. Now she's forgotten the number she was on and has to start over, and it's all his fault.

1. 2. 3.

It's his fault she feels that familiar feeling start to bubble up in her chest. His fault for talking to her like that. His fault for engaging with her in the first place. His fault for being a huge dick.

4. 5. 6.

“You need to become aware of what triggers your anger.” The therapist cuts through her counting and she feels like she wants to scream.

“Once you're aware of it, you can navigate your way around those things.” Right now, it's him that's pissing her off and she doesn't even know him. All she knows is that he called her stupid over a god damn lighter.

7. 8. 9.

“So you need people around you to hold you accountable.” She closes her eyes at the therapist's statement, she knows where the conversation is going and it makes her feel sick.

Another glorified sponsor, a partner, a silly excuse to lie through her teeth about what she was really doing.

She had a sponsor before, someone to “hold her accountable.” An older guy, around 50, used to be on meth's leash and looked the part - she hasn't talked to him since their third conversation. He found it a prime advantage to chat up a younger woman, send her things that made her eyes go wide and grit her teeth, so she blocked the number and relapsed the same day.

She hits ten and takes a deep breath, only to continue counting with her eyes closed the rest of the time.

Her accountability partner is Mad Dog.

The therapist said it's better if they didn't know their partner from the get go, no internal bias, and not an ounce of empathy for a friend. So Morisuke paired up with the guy beside him, said that he never talked to his partners in the first place so it didn't even matter.

That pissed her off.

Gas was only poured on the fire as she continued to sit there and realize everyone else had a partner besides her.

Then she realized there was only one other person in the same situation, Yaku realized it too - the guard dog.

“Don't talk to that guy,” he warns, “just say you have a partner, they don't give a shit.” But she's already out of her seat with a vengeance, and she doesn't even know why. Maybe it was the rush, a shred of familiarity that didn't involve snorting lines off a coffee table. Possibly because there was something welcoming about the anger. Or maybe she was just down right stupid.

“You're my partner.” A curt statement and a venomous tone. He cuts his eyes up to her, he's still sitting down and looks like he won't be getting up soon.

“What pisses you off, Weezer?” It's almost cheeky the way he says it, a jab, but when spoken between his teeth she really can't tell.

“Men that call me stupid.” Cut and dry, “what pisses you off, Mad Dog?” He doesn't even look surprised at the name, if anything there's a hint of a smirk pulling at his lips. That bubbling feeling returns in her chest when she sees it.

“Women that offer me white lighters.” 

@causenessus @softpia @renardiererin @kodzu-ken @phoenix-eclipses

@wyrcan @honeekyuu @wakashudou @wolffmaiden @eggyrocks

@yogurtkags @bakery-anon @totallytatum @mollyrolls @crypt-0rchid

@hyunteru @kameyyy @nekozaki @angelichwv @a-girl-cant-decide-on-a-name

@localgaytrainwreck @ggggbabybaby2 @chaloume @kawoala @evilari111

@baylz

[cobaltperun]

Lost (20) - Miracle

Tara Carpenter x female Reader

Summary: To anyone on the outside, and to Tara’s friends, you were Tara’s fierce protector, the MMA fighter who’d take anyone on for Tara. The Guard Dog, as Amber called you. You had no idea you’d have to protect her from people who claimed they loved her. It didn’t matter. As long as you and Tara had one another there was nothing you wouldn’t be able to survive.

Story warnings: Scream violence, family issues, trauma, angst, certain sensitive topics

Word count: 4.8k

Story masterlist / First part / Previous part / Next part

-Take a look around, it's you and me, it's here and now-

~X~ March 23rd, 2027 ~X~

It was cold, this entire place was as cold as ice for her, and it had nothing to do with the weather, or her clothing. She could put on the warmest clothes she owned, instead of her jeans and baby blue sweater, and she’d still be cold in this bare room with dull gray walls and a light that was too strong for her liking.

Truly, she should have been used to this by now, she should have known her life was going too well, that she was so happy, and that the universe wouldn’t allow that. Even after all she went through, all the horrible things that happened to her, it wasn’t enough, she had to experience true loneliness for the very first time in her life, to feel completely alone.

“I’m sorry miss L/N, we’ve been instructed not to allow any visitors,” the officer told her, and Tara had to take several deep breaths to calm down and not make a scene, though at this point she had no idea how she was controlling herself. Maybe because making a scene wouldn’t fix anything. It wouldn’t do her any good, it wouldn’t chase away the persistent cold. You had the right to visitors, much worse people had them, but apparently no one was allowed to see you. Not her, not your lawyer, despite threats that they would be sued for this no one budged an inch. There was no way to contact you.

Her hand touched her stomach, knowing there were plenty of reasons why she shouldn’t stress too much. “I’m her wife,” she repeated, hoping there was some humanity left in this man and that he would let her through to you. She needed to see you, even if it was in this cold, dark place, even if you were locked up. Even just seeing you would be enough to, at least for a bit, make her feel warm again. “I’m carrying her child, please, just for five minutes.”

He looked down, and while Tara could still hide it, a closer look would reveal that she was, indeed, two and a half months pregnant. “Well, it’s not exactly her child, is it? Get out miss L/N, this is your last warning,” he sneered and came up to her, ignoring her glare and ready to shove her if necessary.

“We get it, we’re leaving,” Danny stepped between Tara and the officer, just to be sure nothing would happen to her. “Come on, Tara, he won’t let you see Y/N,” he pleaded, gently taking her forearm and pulling her outside.

Tara let him, she followed him, through the nearly empty halls of the prison, defeated and not paying attention to the few officers that did look at her. You’ve been locked up for three weeks and no one was allowed to see you or hear from you. And Tara? Tara only had Danny left… You were locked up, Sam was gone, her friends weren’t there, they were dealing with their own lives, and while she missed them, Tara refused to ask them to come and stay with her. She didn’t want to involve them into this, she’d find a way to reach you eventually.

The fresh air outside the prison felt stale when you were locked up in the cold building she just exited. She got in the backseat of the taxi and Danny gave the driver his address as Tara got lost in her thoughts. Things were so much simpler and happier just a month ago, in fact, everything was going well ever since you recovered, over four years ago.

~X~ December 2022 ~X~

You were being mean, laughing at her and handing her the inhaler at the same time. Jerk… “You needed me so much you couldn’t breathe?” you dropped down unceremoniously next to her and pulled her closer the moment she returned the inhaler to the nightstand next to your bed.

Just to be slightly petty she playfully stuck her tongue out and turned her back to you, as much as her body tingled from what the two of you just did. And you just chuckled, spooning her and wrapping a strong arm around her waist. Despite your teasing she relaxed against you, enjoying the warmth and the feel of your bare skin against her back. “It’s not my fault you went crazy after I called you ‘baby’,” she sighed dramatically. She wasn’t sure she could move from the bed any time soon, not that she was complaining, besides, it was clear you got your stamina back and she was definitely no longer feeling pent-up.

You leaned closer to her, slowly kissing her just beneath her ear and Tara hummed in approval. She twisted around in your arms, baring her neck so you could keep kissing her. “I remember hearing something else as well,” you eventually reminded her, your tone low and slightly raspy and all the things Tara was weak to as she sighed when you left another mark on her neck.

She was confused for a moment, and then she turned completely red when she remembered exactly what you were talking about. “You’ll never hear that again,” she ducked down, hiding her face beneath your chin and just wrapping her arms around you.

“Whatever you say, Tara,” she could feel you smirking, she could sense it! Damn you for knowing exactly how to get her worked up, and for making her call you… no… she wouldn’t even think about that. She’d forget it! She’d make you sleep on the couch if you ever mentioned it. Or maybe not that. She needed you next to her to sleep well, so maybe she wouldn’t make you sleep on the couch. Forbid you from kissing her? No, she liked that too much to use it as punishment. She could sit somewhere other than on your lap?

Hell no!

She could take your car. Actually, that would get you to ban her from sitting on your lap.

She’d just make you play horror games without her. That’ll teach you.

She one hundred percent did not have that kink. Nope, it was a slip of a tongue, nothing more, and it would never happen again!

But then another thought popped into her head. And while there was a chance it was said in the heat of the moment, that it was just your desire and passion talking, you did kinda tell her you wanted to marry her. And while it easily could put you in a bad spot, she wanted to hear your thoughts now that you weren’t consumed by your desires. She didn’t doubt you wanted to spend the rest of your life with her, it was the actual marriage that she was wondering about, since you, somehow, never talked about your feelings on that.

Tara personally wanted to get married, she imagined how it would look when she was younger. Nowadays her imagination didn’t include big events, just something private, but she did want that with you.

“Say, Y/N, were you serious about wanting to marry me?” she asked, absentmindedly tracing random lines on your biceps. You still haven’t recovered all your muscles, but she could feel them under her touch, firm and strong, and she was sure you’d be back in shape before the end of the year. Not that you weren’t already in shape, just, you’d be back in the shape you were in before Bailey, his children, and Thomas attacked all of you.

“Completely,” you didn’t even hesitate, you just hugged her a bit tighter. “I’ll do the whole proposal thing sooner or later, but if you want to marry me, then yes, I am absolutely serious about that.”

Tara nodded, smiling brightly. “I do want to marry you,” she kissed you, from your neck, your jaw, all the way to your lips. “I want to spend my entire life with you,” the two of you haven’t even been together for a year, though it was close to a year now, your anniversary was less than a week away, but she had no doubt in her mind that what she said was exactly what she wanted. Her lips met yours and she nudged you slightly so you would get on your back, and she moved with you to straddle your abs. “I want to take your last name, to have-“ she suddenly stopped, just now realizing that was another topic the two of you never talked about.

“Tara?” you raised an eyebrow, confused by her silence.

“Do you want children?” she blurted out, because she did, she wanted at least one child, or two, maybe two would be better. Probably not more than two. She wanted to give someone a childhood she wished to have, as far as parents went. But even more than that, she wanted a family with you. Regardless of if it was just the two of you, or if there would be kids.

You kinda just… shrugged and now it was Tara’s turn to be confused. “Eventually, sure. I haven’t really thought about it, but I’m not against it,” you tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear and Tara sighed in relief. “If you want kids, we’ll raise them together, if you don’t, it’ll be just the two of us,” you pulled her down for a kiss and Tara felt like melting. “It’s not a deal breaker for me, nothing is as long as I’m with you.”

She definitely didn’t want kids right away, she wanted to finish college, get a job, get married and then, eventually, when both of you felt you were ready, either adopt or get pregnant. That, however, was topic for another day. In the back of her head, she worried about Ghostface coming back, but she could only believe in you, in your ability to come back to her, and her own ability to make sure she came back to you as well.

“You know, it’s good that you called me-“ she shut you up with a kiss. She knew exactly where you were going with that, and she would not let you finish that sentence.

“Don’t you dare,” she warned you. You just grinned at her, and even though you stayed silent she knew the word was on the tip of your tongue. She’d have to make you say something embarrassing as well eventually. With that thought in mind Tara kissed you one more time.

~X~ December 13th, 2023. ~X~

This was it. This was how you were going to have your second heart attack and drop dead. All things considered your panic-filled mind wondered if this could be considered suicide, because, all of this was, after all, your own doing. It would be fine, right? Tara did want this, she said so! Granted, the one and only time the two of you talked about this was over a year ago, but surely nothing has changed since then, right?

You still felt like you’d rather run a gauntlet, fight the strongest women MMA fighters one after another right now than actually go through with this.

“I can’t,” you were pacing around the hotel room, not even daring to glance at the tiny box on the table. Oh, if a bird swooped in from the skies and grabbed it you would be the happiest woman alive, because you’d at least have an excuse to postpone this. Maybe you should go and ask for some bird seeds or something similar, just to leave them near the box and hopefully lure said birds inside.

“Y/N!” Anika grabbed your shoulders and pushed, but she couldn’t get you to move. “Sit down you… mass of muscles and ridiculous strength only Tara gets to move!” she grunted and then just threw her arms up, and sat down herself. “Fine! Stand there!” she gave up. “If you don’t do this today, you’ll have to wait until next year, remember?”

You looked to the side, annoyed that she was right. Her hair was braided, and she was wearing a nice, bright and colorful dress Mindy was going to drool over tonight. It was December thirteenth. The second anniversary of your and Tara’s relationship and you were ready to propose. Well, as far as setting everything up was concerned. You booked the restaurant in this hotel, hooray for successful business, got the ring, dressed up, everything was ready. Mentally though… you were absolutely not ready.

The proposal was also why you were on an urgent business trip, why Anika went back to her parents, and why Mindy and Chad had to visit their mom, and why Sam and Danny would be taking Tara to a restaurant so she wouldn’t feel lonely, and you’d be making up for the urgent business trip tomorrow, when Tara turns twenty-one.

Which was all one big lie, aside from Sam and Danny taking Tara to the restaurant, all so Tara wouldn’t suspect anything.

“Or maybe, hear me out, I say screw important dates, and just randomly ask her one day?” you suggested, raising your finger to make a point.

Anika got up and began jabbing her finger above your chest. “You, Y/N L/N, are one of the best women MMA fighters, you lived through being shot, stabbed, impaled on a rebar, falling from a roof and won Sam’s approval to date her sister, which is probably the most impressive accomplishment of them all,” she told you with enough conviction to make your own doubts slowly ebb away. “You are going to go downstairs, dressed in that,” she looked you up and down and just stepped back. “that… let’s just say Tara is lucky, because, well, you dressed to impress,” and you did. You went all out, finding the best clothes for the occasion.

And then the phone rang, and you saw it was Danny calling.

Afraid something happened you immediately picked up and put him on a speaker. “Yes?”

“It’s a disaster,” he opened dramatically, his voice filled with panic. “Tara won’t dress up!”

You felt the tension from all of this, all the pressure from wanting to propose to her, all the worry caused by his call, it all just vanished, and you felt like you could breathe again. “Dude, let her come in whatever she wants,” you laughed, no longer feeling nervous. This was Tara, your Tara and you suddenly felt silly for even being nervous in the first place.

“She wants to come in your damn shirt! Not even a really nice one, but a random shirt she picked out, it’s a miracle she doesn’t look like a fashion emergency!” he whisper-shouted and you watched Anika’s jaw dropping as she heard that.

You laughed a bit too loudly. “So let her! Let my girl do whatever she wants, it’s her night!” you just sat down on the bed and couldn’t wipe the grin off your face.

“It’s a five-star hotel and she wants to wear an oversized shirt that looks more like a dress on her and jeans! She didn’t even do her hair or put make-up on!” he nearly yelled while you had a dreamy look on your face knowing Tara would still look more beautiful than anyone else in this whole hotel.

“Yup, let her, just bring her here,” you sighed dreamily, your mood swinging in the exact opposite direction.

“Unbelievable, both of you,” he groaned and hung up.

You looked at Anika, still flabbergasted by what she heard, and then at your usual clothes. “You know what, Tara has a point,” you’d wear fancy clothes for some special occasion, maybe tomorrow night when you take her out not as your girlfriend, but as your fiancée for the very first time.

“No! Y/N! I won’t let you!” Anika cried out, but it was too late now.

~X~

Dressing up… as if Tara wanted to do that tonight. You weren’t there, and she was basically being a third wheel on Sam and Danny’s date, so no, she wouldn’t dress up. She wanted to stay home, watch a movie, and wear your shirt so she could feel like you were hugging her. But, Sam insisted and she couldn’t say no to Sam’s pleading gaze.

Well, she’d see you tomorrow, so that was nice. Urgent business trips have happened ever since you opened your own company. You used the money you got from your retirement and ensured you could mostly work from home, but you still needed to leave every now and then to meet up with your business partners. Did it suck that you had to leave on your anniversary? Yeah, it did. Was Tara angry? No, just a bit lonely since everyone else seemed to leave as well, but you called her plenty of times today and she couldn’t wait to see you tomorrow.

The hotel Sam and Danny took her to… well, now she felt a bit silly for being dressed so casually, especially since Danny went for a dark brown suit and black turtleneck sweater and Sam went through trouble of doing her hair and wearing a light green long coat with shirt and pants. And Sam didn’t exactly dress up that often, she preferred casual clothes she could defend herself in if needed, and while Tara became cautious after what happened last year, Sam took it to the next level, and that made Tara worried for Sam, she wasn’t letting anyone new in, no matter what, even at work she kept to herself and barely even got out unless Tara or Danny specifically asked her to.

That made Tara feel a bit guilty, because this was actually Sam’s idea, and now that they were here Tara wondered if she really should have dressed up. If for no other reason than to show Sam she appreciated that Sam wanted to go out. She wanted to apologize, but Sam still looked so happy, so Tara figured she could apologize later tonight. She didn’t want to make Sam and Danny’s date uncomfortable before it even officially began.

She walked in behind them, noticing immediately the hotel restaurant was empty, sure, it was expensive and all that, but completely empty? No celebrities at the very least? And since when did Sam and Danny want to spend this much money of a single date? And then add even more costs by inviting Tara with them? And several people greeted them and took them to the round table set up for six people, where Chad, Mindy and Anika were waiting already.

They were all dressed up, and Mindy was rolling her eyes when she noticed how Tara looked. “Seriously Sam? You couldn’t get her to wear something else?” Mindy shook her head in utter disbelief.

“She’s stubborn, and well, the three of you didn’t do a better job anyway,” Sam muttered, further confusing Tara.

Several ideas were crossing her mind, but the table was set up for six people, and all thoughts of you somehow popping up were ruled out by that simple fact. Unless that was what you wanted her to think. Since it wouldn’t be that hard to just move things around a bit and make space for one more person, in fact, there was suspiciously wide open space between Chad’s chair and an empty chair next to him.

But everyone was dressed up. Anika was stunning, Mindy looked just as beautiful in that red, slightly revealing dress and Chad went for a more casual, button up shirt and suit combination, and that worried her, because he loved dressing in a more casual way.

“Still the most beautiful girl in the room though,” her jaw dropped at the sound of your voice, and she looked to the side as you came down the stairs, dressed just as casually as Tara, just simple, slightly tighter polo shirt and pants and a smile on your face as she ran up to you and jumped into your arms.

“What’s this all about? How are you here?” she wasn’t complaining, not in the slightest, she just wanted to know.

You laughed, lifting her up and carrying her bridal style to the table. “Well, I wanted to make this a bit fancier, but,” you looked down at her choice of clothing and grinned. “I think this suits us much better,” you lowered her back to her feet and guided her to the remaining free chair. She sat down, still looking at your eyes. “Tara Carpenter,” you went down to one knee and pulled out a box making Tara’s jaw drop as she saw a beautiful ring that matched the necklace you bought her for her eighteenth birthday. “Will you marry me?”

Tara refused to cry, she wasn’t going to cry, she was absolutely crying as she fell into your arms and hugged you as tightly as she could. “Yes, a hundred times yes!” she exclaimed as your friends cheered around the two of you.

You laughed at that, and got up, lifting Tara up in the process and hugging her tightly. “I love you,” you kissed her lightly, but she wasn’t having any of that as she deepened the kiss right away, her hand cupping your cheek.

“I love you too,” she whispered against your lips when you separated and you put a ring on her finger and she pulled you down for another kiss.

~X~ Present day ~X~

The two of you got married on your third anniversary, exactly a year after you proposed, and last year you decided you’d try IVF and then, when Tara and you told Sam about it… well, that’s when it all started going downhill, as Sam grew more and more irritated and angry and would leave for several days at a time. Tara tried to be patient, she tried to understand her sister, to be there for her, but it was starting to take its toll on her as well, because no matter how she approached Sam nothing seemed to be working. And then something she feared the most happened. Despite how much she tried to tell you it was fine, it happened, you snapped.

~X~ December 2026 ~X~

Getting married didn’t change anything, Sam was still living with Tara and you, and her and Danny were still not living together. They’d spend nights together occasionally, but Sam never brought up the idea of him moving in, or her moving to his place. “Sam, please, just tell me what’s going on,” Tara pleaded when Sam once again chose to ignore how worried she was making Tara be.

“Nothing is going on,” Sam shut her down, not even once looking at Tara as she sat in your shared kitchen. You were out, buying groceries for tonight’s dinner, you and Tara wanted to make this dinner feel special, since it’s been a while since Sam was home for more than a few days. And this time she actually made it through the week without disappearing. “Just make sure to take care of yourself when you get pregnant,” there was frustration in Sam’s voice that Tara immediately noticed.

“Are you angry at me?” Tara asked, not really having any ideas as to why Sam would be angry, but it just felt like she was. Surely she wasn’t angry because Tara wanted to have children, right?

“No,” and Sam refused to elaborate and in her anger and frustration reached into her pocket for her cigarettes just as you came back home. Tara knew Sam never truly quit smoking, though she tried several times, but in all the years since Sam began smoking she never smoked near Tara, and she always made sure Tara couldn’t smell the cigarettes. So, Tara was shocked, but she didn’t say anything, fearing it would make Sam leave again. Her asthma was more manageable, she could handle a cigarette, she hoped.

The doors opened at the worst possible moment and Tara watched your face twisting in anger as you realized Sam had lit a cigarette. “Drop it! Sam, drop it right now!” if there was one thing, just one thing that didn’t involve actually harming someone you loved that would make you snap instantly, it was someone who knew Tara had asthma trying to smoke near her.

“Baby, wait,” Tara got up, stopping you before you could take the cigarettes from Sam. This was already a volatile situation, Sam was frustrated, you were angry, and Tara needed to calm things down. “Let’s just go to our room, okay?” she took the groceries from your hand and placed them on the table, noticing ojo de pancha from a nearby bakery Sam loved at the top. She reached up, cradling your cheek, feeling and seeing the tension on your face. She pulled you closer, relaxing slightly when she felt you relaxing a bit. “Do it for me?” she spent her entire childhood listening to her parents arguing, then to her mother and Sam arguing, she didn’t want to listen to you and Sam arguing as well, especially for her sake.

You sighed, but nodded, ready to just let it be, until Sam spoke, not even bothering to put the cigarette out. “What are you two even thinking? What if Ghostface comes after us again?!” Sam demanded and Tara turned to look at her, at the fury in her eyes.

“Sam?” she called out, not recognizing her sister. She knew Sam was paranoid, but this much? “We weren’t attacked for over four years,” she tried to remind her as she took your hand and took a few steps back, away from Sam’s rage and from the smoke and despite knowing Sam would never hurt her you stepped between her and Sam.

“Tara has me, I won’t let anyone hurt her, or our child,” you said, for the first time in fifteen years you’ve spent as Tara’s best friend, as her protector, as the one person she could always rely on, the guard dog barked at her sister. “You included, Sam, so put that damn cigarette out before I make you,” you warned, your tone dangerously low.

You would turn twenty-six in a bit less than half a year, and for the lack of a better word, you were at your peak. Stronger than even when you fought for the title, or when you fought against Thomas. Speed, strength, skill, all of that was as high as you could take it, and it was one of the reasons why you chose to start a family now, because Tara did worry about Ghostface coming back, and so did you. So, if the two of you wanted children this was the absolute best time to do it, even if it meant starting your family at a fairly young age compared to most couples. You’d be able to maintain this peak for several years, and you’d be close to it well into your thirties if you kept training the way you did now.

Sam scoffed and walked out, and despite Tara’s pleas, she didn’t come back for a week. And Tara? She just cried in your arms, feeling like she was once again losing her sister.

~X~

Looking back now, it was like Tara was looking at herself from back when you first came to New York, only Sam was almost thirty and angrier than Tara ever was. When Tara found out she was pregnant, she wanted to have you and Sam there, but Sam just… left… abandoned Tara again, and no one, not her, not you, not Danny, no one could reach her. For nearly three months now, Tara had no idea where Sam was. And she felt as if her life had fallen apart completely.

Chad, Mindy and Anika left New York a while ago, Chad pursuing his football career, which took him to Miami last year, while Anika and Mindy formed a rising star duo, directing horror movies all over the country for the past two years. So, her group was scattered, and while they all stayed in touch, Tara was only left with you as her constant. Danny was there as well, trying to be supportive while Sam was going through whatever she was going through, but it really was just you and her.

And then, three weeks ago you got arrested, framed for murder you didn’t commit. And the victim? Your own father? He was stabbed, and despite her best efforts, Tara had no idea why you even went there in the first place, she just knew you didn’t do it.

A/N: Right, Tara is pregnant. I’m sure that won’t raise the stakes at all. Anyway, this is my Scream 7, I'm not watching anything unless Melissa and Jenna are back. Have fun with Lost season 2!

Story masterlist / First part / Previous part / Next part

[sihtricfedaraaahvicius]

A Christmas Miracle

Note: merry second crisis day

Warnings: 18+!!! smut/angst/fluff. mention of physical assault and blood.

pairing: Modern!Sihtric x Escort!reader (f)

summary: A new client just before the holidays changed everything for you.

wordcount: 8k

Masterlist

Sihtric threw his phone next to him on his couch, after scrolling for twenty minutes straight before he finally made a choice. He groaned and dragged his hands down over his face in embarrassment at the fact it had gotten to this point. He felt his cheeks heat up at the realisation of what he just had done, and regret kicked in immediately.

He reached into the backpocket of his black, formal trousers and took out his wallet, which he threw next to his phone. He then loosened his black tie, unbuttoned the first three buttons of his white blouse and rolled up the sleeves to his elbows. He sat back with his arms spread across the backrest of his couch, as he stared up at the ceiling while he kicked off his black Oxford shoes, and shoved them under the white salon table in front of him. He then raked his tattooed fingers through his dark, wild and loose shoulder length hair and he slowly let out a sharp exhale.

He had been deprived of sex for months on end, or any form of physical touch for that matter, and he couldn't even really recall the last time he had been intimate with someone. He had tried getting into the dating scene, but he was either stood up or it was him who simply wanted to leave as fast as possible and go home again. As soon as word got out during a date that Sihtric was a lawyer, he could practically see the money signs in the eyes of those he had a drink with, and he was tired of it. He was tired of dating in general, and even though he felt lonely at times, he'd rather be single than go on one more disastrous date. But he still had needs and desires and, as a lawyer, it wasn't really a good look to make a profile on a dating app just for sex. So it had come to this; he had just booked an escort for the first time in his life, after another rough day at work.

Sihtric didn't think there was anything wrong with paying for sex, he just never thought he'd ever be one of those people who turned to it as a last resort for intimacy. He had successfully represented several escorts as a lawyer, and Sihtric knew very well that he didn't quite fit the profile of an escort's client, and he just felt pathetic right now. He hoped that for some reason his booking would be declined, as he thought the escort he booked was way too beautiful in the first place, and he just wanted to save himself from having an awkward night. But it seemed that it was already too late when Sihtric checked his phone again and saw he had received a confirmation text, which said the escort would be at his place in half an hour.

'Fuck,' he groaned and buried his face in his hands again, while he anxiously awaited your arrival.

You walked through the hallway on the tenth floor of a fancy apartment building just outside of the city centre. The clicking sound of your black heels echoed as you closed in on door number 254. The building itself looked way nicer than most places you've been booked at, but you also knew that those so-called rich people often have weird fetishes, so you were prepared to set your boundaries immediately or charge more. You expected an older man to have booked your services, as you usually found those types of men in fancy places like this, so when a young, handsome man opened the door you had just knocked on, a smile settled on your face with a sigh of relief.

'Well, ain't that a pleasant surprise,' you purred as you looked at him from head to toe.

'Oh, eh, c-come in,' the man chuckled and blushed as he held the door open for you.

You walked past him and looked up into his eyes, finding they are beautifully mismatched and accompanied by a few scars on his handsome face. His hair was wild and loose while his white blouse was half unbuttoned. He still wore his belt, but no shoes, which told you that he hadn't been home for a long time yet, and you quickly glanced around the apartment. It was spacious and rather cosy. You saw a large flatscreen tv on a white wall, a nice salon table on a grey faux fur rug, two black couches, a fireplace and an open kitchen with a small dining table. You figured he lived alone and there was no sign of a girlfriend or wife anywhere, which made you feel relieved again, as you hated to be a homewrecker after being the cause of several divorces already in your escort career.

'So,' you smiled and turned, 'what's your name, handsome?'

'It's, eh, S-Sihtric,' he blushed and bit down on his lip and he stepped slowly towards you.

He already knew your name as he had booked you, so instead of introducing yourself you stepped closer and ran your fingers over his clothed torso. His breath hitched in his throat as he was stunned by your beauty.

'Tell me, Sihtric,' you breathed, 'do you know the rules?'

'I,' he cleared his throat and nervously scratched the back of his neck, 'I guess. This is my… first time with an escort, actually.'

'I figured,' you chuckled and looked him up and down again, 'I'm surprised I'm here in the first place. But I will tell you the rules just to make sure we're clear on those,' you took his hand and slowly pulled him with you, to the centre of his living room, 'no kissing and no anal. I'm sorry, honey, I don't do that. I also won't allow biting or spanking, or basically anything that leaves a mark on me. And we always use condoms and lube, is that clear, handsome?' you smiled.

'Mhm,' Sihtric hummed as he stared at you with big eyes.

'Sihtric,' you whispered and leaned in, both hands resting on his muscular chest as you looked up at him, 'I need you to use your words with me, honey. Do you understand the rules?'

'Y-yes, miss,' he stammered.

'Miss,' you giggled and stepped back as you slowly undid your long jacket, revealing your pink see through dress and the black lingerie underneath.

'Now tell me, pretty boy, where do you want me?' you asked and dropped your jacket on the floor, next to your purse.

'I, eh, I- I… h-here?' Sihtric pointed to his couch, 'or… m-my bed?' he half asked.

'Relax,' you reassured him and stepped closer again, massaging his broad shoulders slowly, 'just tell me where you want us, bad boy,' you purred and winked.

Sihtric inhaled sharply and took your hands to guide you over to his couch.

'Here?' he asked with a little uncertainty.

'Sure,' you smiled and slowly unbuttoned the rest of his blouse.

'Eh,' he suddenly interrupted, 'do you want a drink or… something to eat first?'

'Oh,' you laughed softly and bit down on your lip, 'no, thank you, sweetheart.'

You smiled at him and had so many questions. How was a man as handsome as him single, and even so, why on earth did he have to turn to the services of an escort? There was no way women wouldn't be throwing themselves at him if he'd go to a bar. He was incredibly good looking, sexy even and charming. You were good at picking up someone's energy right away, and he gave you the sweetest and kindest vibes. You sensed hints of loyalty and respect, those two energies were not common to feel around people you provided with your services. You were often a one night mistress to married men who were sick of their wives, or you were simply seen as a toy. Both were just as horrible to you. But beside Sihtric being handsome and giving you all the right energies, he seemed wealthy but modest, another thing many ladies would simply kill for. And for a split second you hoped he wasn't a serial killer.

Sihtric stared at you, completely in awe and overwhelmed by your beauty and comforting aura, that he could only watch your every move as if he was enchanted. The way your fingers worked his buttons and how you would occasionally glance up at him with a soft smile made him relaxed and nervous at the same time. You were too beautiful for this kind of work, Sihtric thought, and it wasn't fair.

'Now,' you husked and trailed your fingers lightly down his chest, to his belt, which you smoothly unclasped and then worked the button of his trousers, 'tell me how you like it,' you said as you rubbed his hardening bulge.

'Eh,' Sihtric chuckled and shrugged, 'from… behind?'

He would've loved to just look at you while doing the deed, but he also felt it might have been weird, as that would make it suddenly very intimate. And there was nothing romantic about hiring an escort, he knew. You agreed with his chosen position and took off your thin dress, then knelt down on his couch and placed your hands on the backrest.

'You better have lube and a condom ready,' you reminded him, to which Sihtric quickly nodded and reached into the drawer of the salon table behind him.

You relaxed yourself and mentally prepared for who knows how long of intercourse was waiting for you, and you just hoped he wasn't terrible at it.

'You're not a virgin, are you?' you asked and looked back over your shoulder while he prepared himself.

'What? No,' Sihtric laughed, 'I am not, lady. I know what I'm doing, don't worry.'

'Okay, good,' you chuckled.

'Why do you ask?'

'I would've needed a different approach if this was your first time, to make it pleasurable for me too.'

'That sounds fair,' Sihtric smiled behind you and carefully placed one hand on your hip as he lined himself up.

You felt yourself melt at his warm, gentle touch, and you had no idea why. A client never had this effect on you before, but you just blamed it on him being kind and rather shy at first. But you were glad he seemed to loosen up gradually. You felt the tip of his twitching cock tease your folds and you wiggled slightly into a more comfortable position. And when the pretty boy slowly pushed his length inside you, you gasped and your hands gripped at the couch.

'Oh,' you chuckled with another gasp, 'you're a big boy, huh?'

'Hm,' Sihtric hummed and laughed softly as he eased you into it, slowly stretching you up as he placed his free hand on your other hip, and he held you in a firm but pleasant grip.

You couldn't help but smile and bite down on your lip as he started to thrust into you. Slowly at first, but he quickly picked up his pace, and before you knew it the seemingly shy man was fucking you relentlessly from behind like a beast. His hands squeezed your flesh pleasantly while his hips snapped against yours, and you didn't even have to fake your moans this time as you felt his hand trail down to your core.

'Oh, fuck,' you breathed as he stimulated you with his rough fingers, something none of your other clients had ever done before, and you could barely grasp that awfully pleasant sensation you were overwhelmed with. 'Fuck, right there!' you moaned while he rutted against you, his deep moans and heavy growls filled the air along with your gasps and cries. 'Oh, god, yes,' you whined as you felt yourself being dumbed down on his couch. 

You leaned over his backrest, your face buried in your arms as you tried your best to not finish before he did.

'Yeah, you like that?' Sihtric rasped and threw his head back when he felt your walls clench around him.

'Mhm, fucking me so good, bad boy,' you murmured with a smile and felt his pace become sloppy and unsteady. 'Come on, give it to me,' you breathed, and then as you felt his release when he came with a heavy grunt, your legs trembled as you reached your own unexpected climax. Sihtric stilled inside you as your heavy breaths still filled the room, and he slowly pulled out after a short moment.

'You okay?' he asked out of breath, and placed one hand politely on your waist, 'you good?'

'Huh? Oh, yeah,' you chuckled and tried to catch your breath, 'you?'

'Yeah, yeah,' Sihtric panted, 'I eh… here,' he said and grabbed your dress and jacket off the floor, which he placed on the couch next to you. 'I'm going to, eh, clean myself up, okay? Do you need anything?'

'I'm good, you do you, honey,' you smiled and carefully turned to sit down on his couch, while Sihtric went into his bathroom.

You were quick to cover yourself up again and sat back with your jacket on, your mind still reeling from the best sex you've had in… years. Several minutes later Sihtric came out of the bathroom, wearing just his black trousers, and you finally got a full good look at him without his blouse. You were impressed by his physique and his numerous scars. But what amused you even more was how he went from his shy demeanour to an absolute beast, only to now smile rather shyly at you again as he approached you.

'You, eh, want to take a shower or something?' he asked and sat down next to you, but not too close.

'Oh, that's very sweet,' you smiled, 'but I always shower back home, thank you.'

'Okay, eh… a drink maybe?' 

'I have my own water bottle,' you pointed to your bag, 'thank you.'

You both sat in silence for a few long seconds, then Sihtric grabbed his wallet off the table and cleared his throat.

'It was two hundred twenty, right?' he asked as he took out a stack of bills.

'Two hundred is fine.'

'No,' Sihtric chuckled, 'I'm pretty sure it was two hundred twenty. Here.'

He pushed several bills in your hand and you thanked him, after which you got up and Sihtric walked you to his door.

'So,' he said quietly, 'well, eh, you be careful, okay?'

'I will,' you smiled, 'you be good, handsome.'

'I will,' Sihtric chuckled, and he reluctantly closed his door after he watched you walk down the hallway, to the elevator.

You got in your car and counted the bills you had quickly shoved in your purse before you left the handsome man, and you gasped when you realised he had given you two hundred fifty. Usually you'd take the money and run, but you weren't sure if he had made a mistake and you didn't want to rip him off, as you had genuinely enjoyed your time with him. After some contemplating you texted him as his number was still in your bookings.

You: hey, are you aware you overpaid?

It didn't take long before your phone buzzed, and you couldn't help but smile.

Sihtric: yes, lady. Consider the thirty extra as a tip for the holidays.

You: oh, well, thank you. You're very sweet, Sihtric. Happy holidays, handsome x

Sihtric: thank you too. And so are you. Happy holidays, Miss x

A few days passed since your pleasant encounter with Sihtric had happened, and you found yourself not being able to forget about him. You had even looked him up on social media, and even though his profiles were rather closed off, you could see a few of his photos and you truly wondered why he was single. He seemed to be a complete package; handsome, funny, smart, rather wealthy and very sweet. You hated how a client got stuck in your head like that, but there wasn't much you could do. You probably missed him the most when you provided your services to a different client, who simply didn't treat you the way Sihtric had. But you also couldn't help thinking of him at the most random times, and you sometimes simply just wondered how he was doing. And, as you still felt rather bad about the fact that he had overpaid, you decided to text him.

You: hi, I still feel really bad that you overpaid and I just want to say that if you ever decide to book me again I will take that amount off that price. I usually don't see the same client twice, but I'll make an exception this time if you would ever want to book me again.

You hit send and went about your day and, as Christmas was approaching, you decided to do some shopping in order to treat yourself. And just as you were trying on your brand new lingerie at home late at night, you received a booking message. You recognised it as Sihtric's number, and you couldn't help but feel excited that he had booked you for tomorrow night; the day before Christmas eve.

And when the next evening arrived, you had dressed up your prettiest and used your nicest perfume. You wore red heels, red and white coloured stockings, red lingerie and a short, sexy Christmas dress underneath your long jacket. You knocked on his door and bit down a smile as you waited for him to open up. And there he was, looking even more handsome than he had done a few days ago, which you didn't even think was possible. His long hair was tied back in a bun and he was wearing black sweatpants and a black shirt, which showed off his biceps.

'Hey,' Sihtric smiled, way more confident than last time.

'Hey yourself,' you said with a cheeky smile.

Sihtric let you into his apartment and he offered you a drink, which you again politely declined. You took off your coat, and Sihtric struggled to keep his jaw from dropping when he saw your Santa-ish outfit, to which you smiled proudly.

'You like what you see, handsome?' you purred as you took his hand to pull him closer.

'I definitely do,' he smiled and circled one arm around you, then cupped your cheek and kissed your lips without thinking, but he immediately pulled back when he felt you freeze at the sudden gesture. 

'Fuck,' he hissed and stepped away, 'I'm… I'm so sorry,' he stammered, 'I know you don't… k-kiss. I'm sorry,' he blushed and buried his face in his hands.

You stared at him, your cheeks just as flushed as his and you took his hands, pulling them away from his face.

'Don't worry,' you whispered as you pulled him back towards you, 'it's okay.'

Sihtric looked down into your eyes, slightly confused and embarrassed. He seemed conflicted about what to do next, so you decided to help him out. You placed your hands on his neck, feeling his fast heartbeat underneath your palm, and you pulled his lips back to yours. Sihtric initially hesitated, but he soon gave in to his desire. He wrapped both of his strong arms around you and deepened the slow, passionate kiss. 

You trailed your hands down his body and slowly pushed up his shirt and took it off. You threw it on the floor and giggled when Sihtric picked you up in his arms and kissed you again, as you wrapped your legs around his waist. Sihtric hummed and you felt him smile against your lips while he walked you over to his couch, where he lowered you down on the seat and sat down next to you. He then swiftly pulled you on his lap, and you straddled him as your lips eagerly found his again. You teased him with your tongue, flicking it against his lips and licking into his mouth whenever he parted his lips ever so slightly, earning soft moans from him as you did. His big, warm hands moved up your thighs, under the skirt of your dress and he squeezed your flesh while you felt his arousal press against your soaked panties. No client had ever made you this wet and you wanted to take your time with him, you wanted to enjoy him.

You slowly pulled his sweatpants down and gave him a painstakingly slow striptease as you slipped out of your dress, wearing nothing but your red heels, the candy cane coloured stockings, a red thong and matching bra on top.

'I see Christmas came early,' Sihtric husked as his hands roamed over your body before he pulled you back onto his lap, and he smiled at you with heavy lidded and dazed eyes.

'You better not come early,' you purred while pulling out his hair tie, and you raked your fingers through his loose, wavy hair.

'I can't promise anything, miss,' he said, making you both laugh softly before he wrapped his arms around you and flipped you over on your back, 'but I'll try to make it last,' he smiled and delved his tongue inside your mouth again after he had grabbed the condom package and lube off the table.

You both took your time, exploring each other's bodies with your hands and lips until you finally felt his hard, throbbing length inside you. And during the hot and incredibly slow sex you had, you both still managed to fall off his couch and, after laughing with each other, you simply continued on his faux fur rug, until you both finished well over an hour later.

'Fifty is fine,' you said when Sihtric grabbed his wallet off the table.

'What?' he looked up at you while you wrapped yourself in your long jacket, 'no, no,' he said and shook his head as he sat on his couch, shirtless, wearing just his sweatpants.

'Sihtric,' you said sweetly and took his hand, stopping him from pulling out more bills from his wallet, 'you're a pleasant client. You're respectful and, well,' you chuckled, 'you let me finish too. Unlike anyone else. Fifty is fine, really.'

'But-'

'I won't accept more than fifty this time.'

Sihtric sighed, then reluctantly underpaid you for your services. You thanked him and sat down on the couch next to him while you shoved the money in your purse.

'Why are you single?' you suddenly blurted out, 'I... I'm sorry,' you said quickly, 'that was uncalled for.'

'It's okay,' Sihtric said and he blushed lightly, 'it's, eh… I don't know. Partly trust issues, partly just not good at dating I suppose.'

'Sorry to hear,' you said.

'It's fine,' he smiled sweetly, but a hint of sadness was visible in his eyes, and he looked away before you could notice, he hoped.

'So, what do you do for a living?' you then asked as you put your heels back on, 'if you don't mind me asking.'

Sihtric cleared his throat and raked his hands through his hair as he watched you.

'I'm a lawyer.'

'What?' you sat up and looked at him, 'really?'

'Mhm,' he hummed, 'you don't believe me?'

'No, I do,' you chuckled, 'but you just don't look like a lawyer, I guess.'

Sihtric smiled and tilted his head playfully to the side as he looked at you.

'What do I look like then?'

'Oh, I don't you,' you felt your cheeks heat up as you sat back, 'you're just too… you know, handsome and too rough looking for a typical lawyer.'

'Both often work in my favour, miss,' he winked with a sly smile, 'now, you tell me why you never accept the same client twice?'

'Well,' you sighed, 'it's mainly because most clients are not very pleasant, so it's a good way to not have to return to them. But it's also a way to stay clear of developing any feelings, you know?'

'But you accepted me?'

'Yeah, I felt guilty for taking your money last time as you overpaid,' you half lied.

'That's the only reason you came back?' his tone was playfully again as he leaned in, 'hm?'

'Oh, stop it,' you giggled and felt yourself blush again as you nudged his shoulder.

Sihtric stared at you with a soft smile, which slowly fell as he became serious again.

'Do you have more clients tonight?'

'Unfortunately,' you mumbled, 'so, I, eh,' you cleared your throat, 'I should get going, really.'

You got up and Sihtric was quick to follow and walk you to his door. You smiled at him as you walked out the door, but stopped and turned when he softly called your name.

'Hm?' you hummed as you looked at him.

'Just,' Sihtric mumbled and took your hand, 'be careful, okay?' he said and stroked your hand with his thumb.

'I will,' you smiled, while you felt your feet become heavy as you knew you had to step away from him. 'You be good,' you almost whispered.

'I will,' Sihtric smiled weakly, and he suddenly stepped in as you wanted to step away.

He cupped your cheek while he pressed a kiss onto your other, and he slowly trailed his fingers down your face, to your neck, his touch lingering before you reluctantly stepped away. You turned and walked down the hallway, to the elevator, not being able to look back over your shoulder as you were desperately trying to fight the tears that had welled up in your eyes. 

You lied to yourself that it was simply the dark days getting at you and making you emotional, but deep down you knew it was something else. Something worse.

It was Christmas day, late afternoon. You initially weren't going to take any bookings today, but as you had no family to celebrate the festivity with, you had nothing better to do anyway. You only had one booking just before midnight with a new client it seemed, but you soon received another booking and recognised Sihtric's number. You smiled at the thought of seeing him again and you wasted no time getting ready. He had booked you for eight in the evening, and a little before the booked time you knocked on his door.

He opened the door, looking dashing as always. His hair was braided and he wore those black sweatpants again and no shirt this time, much to your delight, and you smiled at him immediately.

'Miss,' Sihtric chuckled when he saw your beaming smile, and he smiled just as widely when leaned in to kiss your cheek.

You allowed his strong arms around you and wrapped your arms around his neck as you sunk into his warm, safe embrace.

'Sir,' you whispered, your face buried in the crook of his neck.

'Merry Christmas, pretty lady,' Sihtric murmured as he held you tightly.

'Merry Christmas, bad boy,' you giggled and inhaled his pleasant scent, then stepped back and followed him inside as he held your hand.

'I have to say I'm surprised you're not not wearing that Christmas dress again,' he joked after you had taken off your jacket, showing off a simple little black dress.

'It's still in the laundry,' you confessed and laughed, 'I've been too lazy to do my laundry'

'Yeah, I know what that's like,' Sihtric chuckled, 'so, I know you always decline, but I'll ask anyway,' he said, 'do you want a drink?'

'You know what,' you smiled, 'yes.'

Sihtric furrowed his brow and smiled too, 'Really?'

'Yes,' you said, 'but just some water.'

'Then just some water it is,' he said and grabbed two glasses.

You sat down on his already familiar couch and felt almost scarily comfortable. You knew it was a bad sign, and you knew you should've declined his booking, but you just couldn't ignore him nor the way you felt around him.

'One water for the lady,' Sihtric smiled as he handed you your drink, and he sat down next to you.

'Thank you, kind sir,' you taunted before you both clinked your glasses together and took a sip. 'Are you not spending the holidays with your family?' you asked and placed your glass on the table.

'I don't really have any family,' he said, 'and I didn't want to barge in on my friends and their families,' he shrugged, 'so I usually spend it alone.'

'And you don't even decorate,' you said as you looked around his place, 'why?'

'Too much effort I guess, and no one who gets to enjoy it with me.'

'Well, I'm here,' you chuckled, 'I should've brought a mistletoe,' you grinned and batted your eyelashes.

'Perhaps,' Sihtric smiled as he faced you, his chin propped up on his hand as he leaned his elbow on the backrest of his couch, 'but hey, at least I've lit a few candles and the fireplace.'

'That you did do,' you smiled, 'and I like it. It's cosy.'

'Good,' he said, and trailed his fingers over your cheek, 'because I really only did it for you.'

'I appreciate that,' you whispered as you both leaned in, 'you're very sweet for wanting to make it nice for me too.'

Sihtric gently took your chin and brushed his lips over yours. 'Of course,' he murmured against your lips, 'of course I want you to have a good time too.'

Your eyes darted over his face, anticipating the feeling of his lips pressed onto yours, but he took his time and nuzzled your nose softly as he hummed with a smile. And you simply couldn't hold back anymore and you cupped his cheeks. You pulled him closer and captured him in a deep, passionate kiss. Your hands moved over his muscular torso, and you pushed him to sit back, then climbed on his lap. You slowly grinded your hips against his as you continued to kiss him, and you felt his hands moved up your thighs. You expected him to push up the skirt of your dress again, like the other nights, but he didn't. Instead, he suddenly broke the kiss and sighed as he rubbed his face with one hand, while he kept his other hand placed on your thigh.

'I- I'm sorry,' Sihtric groaned, 'I just… I thought I wanted this, but… and I do. I do want this, I want you,' he stammered, 'but I just… this is a mistake. I had a bad day, I- I'm not in the right headspace, I think. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I'm just wasting your time. I promise I will still pay you-'

'Stop, stop,' you hushed him and took his face, 'it's fine, don't worry. We don't have to do anything you don't want to. We don't have to do anything sexual at all.'

You continued to straddle him and slowly massaged his broad shoulders, and he leaned his head back on the couch, then he closed his eyes as he clenched his jaw.

'Do you want to talk about it, handsome?' you whispered compassionately.

'I don't want to waste your time,' Sihtric said, almost ashamed, 'I'll just pay you and then you can, you know… go, I guess. I won't keep you here, I won't waste your time.'

'You're not wasting my time,' you said firmly, 'and I'd rather be here then with… with someone else,' you took his chin and pressed a soft kiss to his lips, and then to his cheek before you sat back and held his hands, 'you can talk to me, honey.'

Sihtric hesitantly told you about his day at the courthouse, about how he desperately needs help and is drowning in work. You listened to every word he said and ended up talking for hours, eventually cuddled up in front of his fireplace as you enjoyed some tea while you were wrapped in a blanket together.

'So… why are you doing this?' Sihtric suddenly asked after a while, 'this job, I mean.'

'God,' you sighed, 'I just rolled into it I guess, years ago. It's not great but it's not horrible either. It's quick money, you know? But believe me I've tried to get out of this, but no one wants to hire me once they find out about my job history,' you shrugged and looked at him, 'why do you ask?'

Sihtric looked at you and gently took your chin, slowly rubbing his thumb over your cheek before he spoke softly.

'I just think you're too special.'

You swallowed hard and fought the tears you felt prickle in your eyes, and you quickly buried your face in his chest as you wrapped your arms around his waist.

'I think you're special too,' you whispered, to which Sihtric hummed and smiled, and kissed the top of your head while he held you in his arms.

You felt safe and comfortable in his embrace for a while, until you checked the time and nearly jumped up.

'I'm sorry,' you said, 'I have one more booking today, I… I have to go.'

'Oh,' Sihtric said, a little bewildered, 'yeah, eh, of course.'

The air felt tense as you quietly slipped on your jacket while Sihtric reached for his wallet.

'Don't-' you stopped him and took his hand.

'Here,' he said and pushed the money in your palm.

'No, Sihtric-'

'I've wasted your time.'

'You haven't,' you disagreed and held your hand out to him, not wanting his money.

'I have,' Sihtric whispered and gently pushed your hand away as he stepped closer and leaned his forehead against yours, 'I have wasted it.'

'You're not wasting my time,' you whispered as you felt his arms circle around you, and you placed your hands on his chest, 'I… I like it here, with you,' you whispered.

'Stay,' he breathed, 'just stay with me.'

'I want to,' you sniffled.

'Then stay,' Sihtric whispered as his hands tugged at your jacket wherever he could, to keep you close, 'just tonight. Stay here with me, in my arms,' he almost pleaded, and his lips captured yours in a desperate, longing kiss.

'I can't,' you nearly cried after you unwillingly broke the kiss.

'I know,' Sihtric sighed, 'I understand.'

'I'm sorry,' your voice trembled, and before you could speak again, his lips were locked with yours for another long lasting kiss, which was once again a struggle to break.

'Just be careful,' he whispered and stole another quick kiss.

You groaned softly and took a step back, feeling overwhelmed by the awful, bittersweet feeling of butterflies in your stomach, and you closed your eyes while you desperately tried to ignore the feelings he gave you.

'Fuck, I'm in so much trouble,' you whispered under your breath.

'Hm?' Sihtric hummed and pulled you back in for another kiss.

'Sihtric,' you breathed, 'you're… you're the sweetest guy I've ever met.'

You leaned in for another kiss. And just when you wanted to give in and stay, to stay with the man whom you had seemed to have fallen head over heels for, your phone rang as a reminder was sent about your next booking.

'I have to go,' you sniffled, 'I'm sorry.'

'I know,' Sihtric said and kissed your forehead, 'just let me know you're safe, okay?'

'I will.'

'Promise?'

'I promise.'

You: I'm home

Sihtric grabbed his phone and sighed relieved when he saw your message on his screen, a few hours after you had left his house.

Sihtric: are you okay? you safe?

He stared at his phone, waiting for your reply, but he noticed a slow and uneasy feeling creeping up on him, and he grew anxious when you took a long time to respond.

Sihtric: are you okay, darling?

You: can I call you?

Sihtric furrowed his brow at your question, and for some unknown reason his stomach turned as he replied.

Sihtric: call me? Of course, but are you sure you want to do that? I'm just… you know, a client I guess?

You: I just want to hear your voice

The lawyer immediately picked up when you rang, and he sat up in bed when he heard you sniffle on the other side of the line.

'Hey, are you okay?'

'Yeah,' you lied and sniffled again.

'Darling, what's- what's wrong?' he asked, concern laced his voice while he felt his heart pounding out of his chest, 'did… did something happen?'

'It… it was my ex,' you said with a soft sob, 'he booked me. I didn't know it was him. Once I was there I couldn't… I can't refuse a booking just a few minutes before the scheduled time, it will give me a bad rating and possibly make me lose my income,' you explained.

'What happened?' Sihtric asked while he anxiously paced around his bedroom, 'did he hurt you? Did someone hurt you?'

'I should've stayed with you,' you cried, 'I'm- I'm sorry,' you continued almost inaudibly, 'c-can you come o-over?'

Sihtric froze and he mindlessly grabbed at his chest, feeling dizzy at the speed of his heartbeat as the thought of you being hurt kept racing in his head.

'Of course,' Sihtric's voice trembled, 'of course, baby. Text me your address.'

Sihtric quickly got dressed in some red sweatpants and a black hoodie while you texted your details. He grabbed his keys off the cabinet at the door and almost ran towards the elevator, where he impatiently pressed the button multiple times when he felt it took too long for the elevator to come up to his floor. 

'Come on,' he huffed and compulsively bit down on his lower lip as he waited.

When he was finally in his car, on his way to you, he had his fists clenched around his steering wheel, his knuckles white, while he gritted his teeth with a clenched jaw and breathed sharply in and out through his nose. Countless thoughts occupied his mind on the drive over, and none of them made him feel any better. 

He pulled up your driveway with squeaking tires, jumped out of his car and jogged up to your door. And it only took seconds for you to answer after he had knocked.

'Sihtric,' you sniffled with puffy eyes, and you launched yourself into his arms before he could even take in your appearance.

He held you tight as you both didn't speak, and you finally felt safe again with his arms wrapped around you. It was only when you finally took his hand and led him inside your dimly lit living room that he noticed the large, fresh bruise on your cheek, to which Sihtric exhaled sharply and clenched his jaw while he held your chin.

'Sweetheart,' he whispered with a hint of pain in his voice and eyes, and he pulled you in his arms again, 'did he force you-'

'No,' you sniffled, 'no he didn't… h-he tried to, by beating me. But I- I eventually managed to grab my purse and I pepper sprayed him,' you snorted through your tears, and Sihtric couldn't help but chuckle too as he fought his own tears.

'Good girl,' Sihtric whispered with a soft, proud smile.

You squeezed him in your arms, as if afraid he would disappear into thin air, but instead of leaving you, he walked you over to your couch and pulled you on his lap, and he held you tightly in his arms again.

'I'm sorry I called you o-over,' you sniffled in his neck, 'I just… y-you make me feel safe and I have no one else-,' you choked up before you could finish your sentence.

'Shh,' Sihtric hushed you and kissed your hair, 'you're safe. I'm here. I promise no one will ever lay a finger on you again.'

You held him even tighter as you let your tears run freely, and Sihtric slowly trailed his fingers through your hair as he held you pressed against his chest.

'My darling,' he whispered, and to those words you broke down even further.

'Hey,' Sihtric whispered after a long moment as you still cried, 'what's your favourite food?'

'What?' you sobbed, confused, 'T-Thai.'

'Thai?' Hm… good choice,' he said, and slowly exhaled, 'what's your favourite colour?'

You scoffed, once again confused as you sniffled, but you answered regardless.

'Blue, I guess,' you mumbled.

'Really? I didn't expect that,' Sihtric chuckled softly as he continued to keep you locked in his arms, 'favourite animal?'

Sihtric wiped your tears with the sleeve of his black hoodie when you looked up at him with a puzzled look in your eyes.

'I… I like dogs,' you mumbled.

'I see,' he said, 'I'm a cat person.'

'Oh,' you chuckled and sniffled, 'well, I- I like cats too.'

'You do?' Sihtric smiled as he looked at you, 'so…what do you think we should name our future cat?'

'What?' you laughed softly, 'I… I don't know. What would you name it?'

'Hmmm… something cheesy. Probably something like Whiskers.'

'Whiskers?' you smiled as your tears finally stopped rolling, 'I like Whiskers,' you mumbled.

'Well,' Sihtric smiled sweetly and carefully wiped the mascara stains off your reddened cheeks, 'then I guess we named our future fur baby already.'

You smiled at him and broke into a sudden, soft laughter, to which he smiled and wrapped his arms around you again to pull you in for another hug.

'Feeling a little better?' he asked.

'Yeah, but… I just… I feel so disgusting.'

'Did you shower or bathe?'

'No,' you sniffled, 'I've had no energy… everything hurts.'

Sihtric gave you a concerned and pained look, 'Let me take care of you, love,' he said, and helped you up the stairs to your bathroom after you accepted his help. 

He ran a bath for you while you stood in front of your bathroom mirror, where he carefully took off your black dress as you began to weep and tremble quietly again. Sihtric stopped breathing at the reveal of your bruised and battered back, and he clenched his jaw as he took in the sight of the marks your ex had just left you. He slowly trailed his hands over your bare arms and he softly kissed your bruised shoulders. He then kissed down your bruised back, desperately wanting to kiss each of your bruises away and heal you, but he knew he couldn't work a magic like that. He still gently trailed his lips over your skin, soothing your pain, before he got back up and carefully hugged you from behind as he looked at you in the mirror.

'You're like a Christmas miracle,' you cried softly.

'Tell me his name, darling,' Sihtric whispered in your ear as he kept his eyes locked with yours, 'I'll take care of him.'

'No,' you shook your head, 'I don't want you to get into any trouble.'

'I won't,' he said, 'I'm a lawyer, I know people. I can get rid of him for you and no one will ever know.'

'Siht,' you sniffled, 'no… I just… I just want to forget about all of this.'

Sihtric nodded quietly and helped you to safely step into your bathtub. He knelt down beside the tub and gently washed your hair, then tended to your bruises. He wiped away the dried blood from a few minor cuts on your back, and he cooled your shoulders for a while with a cold, wet towel.

'Will you join me?' you asked, shyly, and Sihtric nodded once again without speaking and got up.

He took off his clothes and joined you in the lukewarm water, sitting behind you, and he carefully pulled your back to rest against his chest. His tattooed fingers trailed up and down your miraculously unbruised arms, and you finally felt yourself relax as you leaned your head back on his shoulder. Sihtric closed his eyes and rested the side of his face against yours, and he then intertwined his fingers with yours.

'I don't want you to do this work anymore,' Sihtric whispered, 'every night since we've met I've lied awake in bed, being worried about your safety. Just… just let me take care of you. Be mine. I want you to be mine so I can keep you safe-'

'Why would you possibly want someone like me?' you cut him off.

'I just do,' Sihtric said, 'isn't that enough?'

You shrugged lightly, and a weak smile tugged at your lips as he embraced you and pressed a soft kiss to your temple.

'I don't want this anymore either, but no one hires me, Sihtric,' you sighed, 'and I need to pay my bills. Believe me I have tried to get out of this life.'

'I can help you,' he whispered, 'let me help you. I know people and places. So many law firms need people-'

'I don't have any fancy papers or experience for a law firm-'

'You don't need those. Firms need people who sort files, lawyer assistants or simply schedule appointments,' Sihtric said, 'give me a chance. Let me arrange a job interview for you at a firm I know. I can put in a good word for you.'

You didn't know what to say, so you just nodded in silence and turned to face him, after which you laid in his arms, embraced by his warmth and the warm water.

Two days later you stepped through the huge glass doors of a law firm downtown, where Sihtric had set up a job interview for you. You anxiously walked up to the front desk, dressed in a pencil skirt and simple black long sleeved shirt, and you were greeted by a young but kind looking man as you reached the desk.

'Hi, my name is Osferth,' the man said, 'I take it that you are here for the job interview?'

'I- I am,' you smiled nervously and clutched your purse, and the man gestured to you to follow him.

And as you followed Osferth, you suddenly saw Sihtric and figured this is the firm he works at, and you swallowed hard when your lawyer boyfriend walked up to you.

'Good luck,' Sihtric said in passing and he gave you a quick wink, before some Irish man called his name.

You almost tripped over your heels while you continued to follow Osferth into a large, empty conference room, where he offered you something to drink while you waited. You politely declined and sat down, trying to control your breathing as you didn't want to ruin this once in a lifetime opportunity. You glanced around the large room, where you sat at a small table in the corner while a huge table graced the centre of the room. You were so nervous that you barely heard the young man speak.

'My boss will be with you soon for the interview. Good luck,' Osferth smiled and closed the door as he left.

You jumped up when you heard the heavy door fall shut behind you, and felt yourself become sick all of the sudden. You desperately wanted to run away, back home or back to Sihtric. You just craved the feeling of a safety blanket right now and you weren't prepared for another let down, but you forced yourself to stay seated and just hoped for the best. 

And while you were deep in thought about every possible way you could ruin the interview, the door behind you opened and you heard someone close in and walk around your chair, to the opposite side of the small table. Too terrified to look up, you kept your eyes locked on your clasped hands on the table, while Osferth's boss had taken a seat across from you. And then, after a few long seconds, you took a deep breath before you finally looked up at your potential new boss, who had already made up his mind about you without your knowledge.

'So,' Sihtric smiled slyly at you and tilted his head to the side as he sat back, 'you're my new assistant, hm?' he then winked and shoved an already signed contract your way, with a pen on top.

You stared at the signed papers and then looked back up at Sihtric with big, confused eyes.

'I… I don't… understand,' you whispered to your boyfriend, who apparently owned half of the firm you suddenly realised when you saw his initials in the logo on the pen.

'All that's missing on those papers is your signature, sweetheart,' Sihtric said with a sweet smile, 'you're my Christmas miracle too.'

taglist: @clairacassidy @finanmoghra @uunotheangel @hb8301 @bathedinheat @neonhairspray @anaeve @bubblyabs @travelingmypassion @sylasthegrim @andakth @chompchompluke @willowbrookesblog @lady-targaryens-world @skyofficialxx @elle4404 @alexagirlie @sweetxime @solango @gemini-mama @cheyennep3107 @little-diable @jennifer0305 @drwstarkeyy @mrsarnasdelicious @verenahx @urmomsgirlfriend1 @moonchildrenandflowercrowns @foxyanon @djarinsgirl27 @sigtryggrswifey @liandav @diiickbrainn @sihtricsafin @lexwolfhale @dixie-elocin

[rageprufrock]

Superposition | The Devil Judge WIP

Just a sneak peek into the inevitable outcome of me finding out that I can write a story about a 17 year age gap.

After the fire, Yohan wakes up every morning knowing that Isaac is dead. 

Elijah wakes up every morning convinced her father is alive. 

It's the crush damage of new grief each day, too big for her tiny body and too heavy for her to carry. It's worse than all of Yohan's years under his father's belt; it's not until he loses Isaac and Heejin, until Elijah cries herself unconscious in his arms, that Yohan realizes that his father had been a clumsy jailer, that for all his cruelty he'd been a blunt instrument compared to all the ways suffering can visit itself upon a person. 

It's a miracle Elijah is alive, surviving multiple complex fractures and then delayed treatment. They save the flesh and bone of her legs, piece her back together with literal pins and needles. Her x-rays are difficult to look at; the scarring across her ghost-pale skin is worse. She hurts, in a relentless way that is at first impossible to explain to a child, and then is so ordinary she goes quiet with it, turns it inward. She stops crying. She's too weak and immobile for her once-infamous tantrums. She goes quiet instead. She throws books, toys, anything that Yohan brings into her beautifully appointed private room to try to distract her. 

"It will be hard, and it will take time," her doctors say, with an infuriating paternalism, as if their performed empathy could dampen constant burn of searing fire across Yohan's shoulders, cut into the shell of him. "But she's young and she's resilient—she'll surprise you." 

For the first six months, Yohan spends his limited waking, functional hours desperately trying to hold back the flood with his bare hands. He wakes and he's in too much pain to function. He sleeps and his doctors adjust his pain management regimen. He wakes and he tries to comfort Elijah. He sleeps and he dreams about the skin grafts he's been informed are needed. He wakes and he calls Lawyer Ko. He sleeps when he knows Isaac's Social Responsibility Fund donation is canceled. He loses hours and entire days in the labyrinth of the hospital, winding between the VIP ward and the children's wing, meeting with Elijah's orthopedic surgeon, her occupational therapists, the revolving cast of nurses that transport her from procedure to scan to bedside. He arranges Isaac and Heejin's funeral, and ends up back as a patient when Elijah's meltdown at the gravesite has him tearing one of his barely healed graft sites trying to contain her flailing arms, to swallow all of her screaming pain into the bottomless well in the base of his spine. 

It's eight months and six days after the fire that Yohan hears Elijah laugh again. 

***

Later, he'll get a comprehensive readout from the hospital grapevine, but the day he meets Gaon for the first time, all he knows is that he's been summoned by the terrifying peds nurses because Elijah and her new friend have committed some kind of juvenile crime.

Yohan's not ignorant to the fact that Elijah is a nightmare child, but he's still a little confused about how a five year old who is—frankly—abysmal with her new wheelchair is any kind of threat to society. He fetches up at to the pediatric OT clinic fully prepared to act like a complete entitled asshole about this, because while Elijah is a monster, she's his monster and therefore completely innocent of all sin, original or otherwise. 

Except halfway down the hallway there, he hears the sharp cackle of Elijah's laughter, a goblin shriek of pure wicked joy. It lands like a punch, like a blessing, it leaves him lightheaded. 

When he rushes the door, it's to find Elijah in full glory, giggling so hard she can't speak. Her hair is tied up in a series of tiny ponytails that frame her face like a lion's mane, her face is covered in marker, and she's clutching a filthy orange cat to her chest. 

"Kang Yohan-sshi," says one of the nurses, who is trying and failing to look severe, from the way her mouth keeps wobbling and her voice is trembling. "As you can see, we have a situation."

"I—where did she get the cat?" Yohan asks, faint.

Another nurse, who is making no effort to hide her grin, says, "Apparently, they found him behind a trash can in the garden and snuck him into the hospital." 

Yohan slants his eyes toward her. "They?" 

"I'm really not sure how you missed her very obvious partner in crime," the nurse tells him, actively laughing now, and when Yohan turns to look again—turns to see anything other than the miracle of Elijah's smiling face—he sort of understands her point.

Because sitting next to Elijah is a skinny teenaged boy wearing Elijah's headband, all of his short hair pushed back and sticking out like a massive frill around his thin face, his nose colored black and whiskers drawn across his cheeks. He looks less embarrassed than he probably should be, and more incriminating, he's holding some contraption made out of stolen hospital supplies that looks like one those little fishing toys for cats—a single inflated glove hanging from the end—that the fat orange on Elijah's lap keeps reaching for with outstretched paws. 

Standing in the doorway, surrounded by staff and other parents who are barely containing their hysterics, the whole thing is even more batshit. Nurse Woo Yeji, the iron fist of the pediatrics ward, is looming over Elijah and the kid on the ground, hands on her hips as she booms out:

"Kang Elijah-sshi, give me that creature immediately." 

Elijah narrows her bright little eyes. "Oh no," Yohan mutters.

"My cat," she declares, her chin stuck out in defiance.

"He was so sick and skinny, we had to rescue him," the boy chimes in, with the admirable application of a pair of doleful, sweet eyes. It might be more effective if his face wasn't covered in washable marker and he didn't have a purple heart drawn over his left eyebrow. 

"That cat is at least 4 kilograms overweight," Nurse Yeji tells them both, unmoved. "And let me say: Kim Gaon, I thought you had better judgment than this."

The boy, Gaon, takes the comment with the ease of long familiarity with disappointment, but Yohan still sees his eyes go briefly flinty, briefly cold, before he pastes on a smile and says, "I rode my motorcycle into a wall. If you thought I had good judgement, that's your own fault." 

"Yah! Kim Gaon!" the nurse yells, which just sets Elijah off again into pealing laughter. 

And from the back of the room, Yohan watches the way this mouthy kid, this little punk, glances over to his niece, watches how the fake grin on his face dissolves for something softer—something run through with tenderness too old for his years. 

***

Kim Gaon is 17, orphaned, and a frequent flight risk from the group home he's been remanded to with both his parents dead. In the 13 months since his father had died by suicide, and the 10 months since his mother had followed, he's been picked up by the local cops at least a half-dozen times: for smoking, for drinking, for fighting. Yohan looks up photos of Gaon's once-happy family, reads SNS posts mourning the closure of their family restaurant, the police reports about the suicides, the note in Gaon's hospital file that notes that he's going into arrears for his parents' funeral costs. Kim Gaon's social worker talks about him with a sort of resigned apology, approaches Yohan's interest like another black mark in the boy's service jacket. She looks at Yohan's suit and briefcase, takes his business card and calls him Lawyer Kang, spills the whole of Gaon's history, reassures Yohan that however self-destructive, however volatile, Kim Gaon's never displayed any violent tendencies toward children, that Lawyer Kang should feel free to reach out immediately if he feels concern that Gaon has become Elijah's friend.

"If you'd like me to speak to him, to tell him you're not comfortable with him spending time with you niece, I completely understand," his social worker says. 

Kim Gaon has been treated for two different STIs and tried to kill himself with a motorcycle three months ago. The only people he has left in the world are a childhood friend from down the street and Judge Min Jeongho, who used to eat lunch at the Kim's restaurant every day. 

Kim Gaon is 17 and entirely alone.

Yohan smiles at her. "No need," he reassures her. "I'll handle this on my own." 

***

Too much of Kim Gaon's character reference is ultimately hearsay. Yohan doesn't trust himself, exactly, but he trusts his judgement, so he watches quietly from the sidelines, collecting data. Yohan hears all the nurses talk about how Gaon is achingly polite, how they can't understand how such a nice boy could be such an evident wild child he would ride motorcycles with reckless lack of self preservation. He watches Gaon do other peoples' homework, quizzing them on Joseon history and showing a middle schooler who's learning how to write with his left hand trigonometry. Kim Gaon plays Smash Brothers with a flock of elementary school kids and ruthlessly kicks their asses every single time.

The Kim Gaon that's considered a neighborhood menace, the one sends his teachers into a blind fury, that's the protective armor. Yohan knows from defensive adaptations. 

But being a nice kid isn't the same as belonging in Elijah's life in any meaningful way, Yohan acknowledges, and spends a pointless day drafting soul-killing discovery motions and wondering why he's devoting so much time to this distraction. Maybe it's how Elijah's sleeping through the nights better, communicating her pain and what she needs better. Maybe it's how she tells stories about her friend Gaon, and it briefly feels as if they've traveled backward through time, that Yohan's watching her for the night, hearing and becoming deeply invested in all of her day care drama. 

"Elijah-ah, why do you like Gaon so much?" Yohan asks her one night, midway through the intricate ritual of her bedtime routine.

From her bed, Elijah says, "Gaon is funny and cats like him and also his parents are dead, so someone has to take care of him," and without missing a beat, points her sparkling princess wand toward the closet, commanding, "Check there, too." 

Yohan climbs off of the floor where he'd been checking under the bed and goes.

"Would you want to see Gaon even outside of the hospital?" he asks her, doing a careful four-point inspection of the closet: more clothes than one child could ever wear, 200 pairs of shoes, a stuffed sheep the size of a horse—no monsters. "Closet's clear."

Elijah makes a considering noise. "Gaon-oppa said he was a really good cook, so I want to eat his food," she decides, and shy now, she waves Yohan toward her, tiny hands flapping. "Samchon, come here. I want to tell you a secret."

Yohan cherishes every secret he has with Elijah. Since she was born, he's kept so many for her: that she stole a cookie, that she's really really not scared of thunder, that she loves her uncle best, that church is boring. 

"I'm ready," Yohan promises, and sits at the edge of her bed with his most serious expression. 

Elijah looks left and right, as if there are spies around every corner, before she cups her hands around her mouth and Yohan curls over her so that she can whisper:

"Sometimes I forget I'm sad about Mom and Dad, but Gaon-oppa says that's okay because I never forget that I love them." 

It lands somewhere in Yohan's soft underbelly, in the forever ache of his scare tissue. He looks down into Elijah's solemn little face, her riverstone eyes, and he wonders what kind of benevolent God allows this—forces children to patch one another's broken hearts. He used to wish that he would have died instead, that he could trade himself for Isaac, for Heejin, but he's comforted Elijah through too many nightmares of his own death to entertain it any longer. Love's always been a chain, whether wrapped around his wrist with a cross or trapping him in his father's house. 

"You will, you always will," he whispers back. 

"And they love me, too, of course, in heaven," she tells him, with the haughty confidence of a spoilt only child, who'd grown up with three adults circling around her in constant adulation. 

"And I love you here, on Earth," he says, and does not add, your grandfather loves you, too, from where he's burning in hell.

Elijah goes suddenly quiet, thoughtful and a little distant, and Yohan waits patiently until she says at last, "Gaon doesn't think his parents love him in heaven." 

Yohan stills. "Did he say that?" 

"He told his friend, the unni that visits sometimes," Elijah reports, and staring dead into Yohan's eyes, she adds, "I was hiding behind a curtain listening. He also said he can't be her boyfriend." 

"Okay, well, time for little goblins to go to sleep," Yohan says, because he absolutely cannot start laughing about this because somewhere out there, in the beautiful hereafter that Isaac so fervently believed in, he would be furious if Yohan encouraged this kind of behavior.

***

For all Yohan's been investigating the mystery of Kim Gaon, he's wholly unprepared to be confronted by the reality of the boy while sitting in the hospital cafe at half past five, working his way through a stack of files for court the next day.

"Kang Yohan-sshi?" comes a voice, and when Yohan looks up, it's into the shaggy bangs and thin face of the boy who makes Elijah laugh, standing awkwardly at the edge of his table.

"Ah," he says, flipping his pen across his knuckles. "You're Kim Gaon."

Gaon's eyes round. "You recognize me?" 

"The nurses tell me you're friends with Elijah," Yohan says, and waves at one of the empty chairs at the table, shuffles a few folders around to make room. "Please."

It takes more than a little maneuvering for Gaon to take the offered seat, between his backpack and his crutches, his leg still in its cast, and Yohan offers him a steadying arm, takes his bag, helps shift the table this way and that way. Gaon looks mortified the whole time by these small courtesies, stumbling over thank yous and apologies. It tells on him in ways Gaon can't possibly know, but that Yohan can't possibly ignore.

"What brings you to my temporary office?" Yohan asks, when he's sure the kid isn't going to tip over and break anything else, and is only in immediate danger of blushing to death.

Gaon squares his shoulders, and taking a deep breath, says, "I wanted to talk to you about a cat."

This is how Yohan learns that the orange furball that he's first seen that day in the OT room all those many weeks ago is a stray that's been named Gam, and that Elijah's youthful enthusiasm for petty hospital-based crime has undergone a metamorphosis toward more elaborate heists.

"Not that I don't admire her ambition, but I'm pretty sure you'd notice the yowling lump in her sweater when you pick her up from OT," Gaon says, still nervous and too polite, darting wary little glances upward at Yohan. "I tried to talk her out of it, but she started arguing about how cold it was going to get and I had to admit defeat."

Yohan feels the corners of his mouth curl up, reflexive. "There's wisdom in recognizing when you're beaten," he says. "And I appreciate your letting me know."

"Sure," Gaon says before going quiet for a long measure, some unfinished sentence still hidden behind his lashes. Yohan's patient, waits him out, and is rewarded when a half-minute passes and Gaon says, with a brittle courage and poorly concealed vulnerability, "I—I'd take him with me if I could. I like Gam. But the house where I have to stay won't allow pets."

Yohan can hear a universe in between the confession here: that Gaon must have been worried about the cold weather long before Elijah even noticed, that he'd tried to find an answer all on his own. Yohan feels, tugging in the hollow underneath his breastbone, a hurtful recognition of a younger version of himself, all those raw edges fraying, and maybe—sitting here—he can understand a little of Isaac's quiet sadness, the way Yohan had carried all his suffering alone, as a matter of course, without ever trying to ask for help. 

He looks at the slope of Gaon's shoulders, the wrinkled collar of his school uniform shirt, his terrible haircut, the little divot of a piercing in his ear. Yohan thinks about the sunburst of Elijah's laughter and all the terrible things he's willing to do to sustain it; it's strange to realize he hadn't anticipated something so easy, something that wouldn't hurt at all. 

"Do me a favor," Yohan sighs.

Gaon's head darts up. "Um—if I can?" he says.

"Back me up when I tell her that I thought long and hard about this, and that I'm going to be a strict taskmaster about this cat," Yohan says, with a rueful certainty that there's no way in hell that Elijah is going to buy this narrative, because it looks like the sun is rising in the brightness of Gaon's eyes, the pink happiness of his too-thin cheeks. This kid couldn't lie effectively if his life depended on it. In this light, Gaon looks a little like Isaac, if Isaac was too thin and too hopeful, all gamine pleasure; it makes Yohan feel his bones creak just to look at him. 

"I will, I absolutely will," Gaon promises, smiling now and still shy, but so achingly sweet that it makes Yohan want to buy him hot chocolate, to tell him he's done a good job, to ask if he's eaten dinner. 

He forebears, and starts packing up his work documents instead. 

"Come on," he tells Gaon. "If I'm going to make a fool of myself trying to trap a feral hospital cat, you're coming with me."

Yohan ends up scratched to hell and back, his hand-tailored wool trousers covered in mud, while  Gaon laughs at him with a wide-open happiness that makes something in Yohan's chest feel too big for his rib cage. He decides not to think about it in favor of fetching Elijah from her PT and ferrying her down to his car, where Gaon is waiting for them both, a sulking Gam zipped into the front of his hoodie like an uncooperative child. His smile could light every building in Gangnam. Elijah's shriek of pure joy when she spots him leaves Yohan half-deaf for the drive home, and so the warm patter of Elijah and Gaon talking in the backseat rolls over him in indistinct syllable noises until he drops Gaon off at his group home and helps him to the door. 

"Thank you, for today," Gaon tells him, starry and still rosy, covered in cat hair. 

"Elijah's already drawing up plans for shared custody, so don't be a stranger," Yohan warns. 

He'd been ordered by Elijah to participate in an exchange of contact information with Gaon because everybody in the car had a unique and unaddressed relationship with the trauma of abandonment, and so of course Gam could not be suddenly bereft of one of his humans.

"I won't, I promise," Gaon swears, and nods back toward the car, where Elijah is holding Gam up against the window and waving his paw at them. "You should get her home."

Elijah talks nonstop during the drive out of the urban density of Seoul into the forested beyond where their family home is perched on a melodramatic cliff above a lake. Yohan hears about her nurses, her rivalry with another little boy in OT who sounds like he has a world-ending crush on her Gaon-oppa, and listens to the way Elijah sometimes stops mid-sentence when Gam meows at her and then replies, as if she can understand cat. 

Whatever is bubbling in his veins, its too violent to be the warm kindness of joy. This ferocity feels like some holy gratitude, feels like the way Isaac used to talk about God. Yohan has never any good at faith, but he thinks—to himself, so loudly he hears it over the roar of blood in his ears and the chattering happiness of Elijah, vividly alive—he thinks, thank you, thank you, to whoever is listening: to God, to fate, to fortune, to the fucking cat—to Gaon, waving at Elijah with both hands, a smile on his face and Gam curled close against his chest. 

[sirianasims]

The Don Diaries

Back in the Lothario household, a miracle has happened. Gina. Has. Picked. Up. The. Baby. Granted, Don is at work so for once there was no one else to do it, but still.

Matteo probably wonders who this strange woman is.

Gina. Gina, your son is really smelly. Don't just stare at him, do something about that diaper. Please.

Gina does nothing, so I intervene and make her change him. She finally does it, only to then immediately deposit Matteo on the floor like he was some sort of Sims 2 baby.

She had some very important stretching to do, you see. Infants are kinda heavy WHEN YOU'VE NEVER HELD ONE BEFORE.

Immediately after Don arrives home, one of Gina's lawyer colleagues invites her to a lounge to celebrate her recent promotion. Gina doesn't really know (or like!) her colleagues so I figure they need the bonding time, and it means less time to start fights with Don.

Gina is having a hard time staying interested in her colleague though, and decides to get to know whoever this dude is.

Her poor colleague (who is on her second drink already - to cope with Gina's company, I'm sure) is struggling to keep her engaged and Gina wanders off.

The lounge entertainer, some pianist named Mitchel, is apparently taking a well-earned chess break from entertaining.

... that's quite a lot of heart-farting there, Mitchel.

Especially considering that you're extremely married and have a teen daughter.

Gina's attention span has suddenly improved vastly, something I'm sure has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that Mitchel's household funds are - let me check - WAIT, OVER NINE MILLION?!?

I send her home before she can cause any damage, but I have a feeling that it may not be the last we've seen of Mitchel the Pianist. God, the jokes about this guy are gonna write themselves.

Back home, Don is teaching Matteo to stand and both he and I continue to have zero chill about this baby.

Look at him. Perfection. Even the drooling is cute. 10/10.

Gina gets home from her adventures at the lounge, and Don makes another desperate attempt to rekindle some sort of intimacy after putting Matteo to bed.

Don has a very high libido, but he and Gina haven't really been intimate at all since Matteo was born and Don is getting increasingly frustrated.

But as usual, Gina turns him down. I guess she still has Mitchel the Nine Million Pianist on her mind.

The next day starts out well enough, Matteo has found his feet and spends some time getting to know them.

He is then introduced to banana with the help of the not-useless nanny.

It's another success!

But wait, what's this? Gina has apparently had a big day at work too. Not quite as big as discovering banana, but it's something!

Gina makes the decision to speak out, I guess it's the fame and money, but... there goes her promotion again. As if Gina needed another thing to be angry about.

Furious and disappointed, Gina approaches their neighbour and more or less tries to bully her into becoming a client.

Gina, I don't think the suit is the problem.

The tension in this household is at a breaking point, but we still have one more thing to get through.

Enjoy this synchronised father/son facepalm, because tomorrow, things get slightly out of hand - it's time for Sidney and Nathan's wedding!

[arcane-vagabond]

Don't Hang'em Til Noon: Prologue

Don’t Hang'em Til Noon: Prologue

Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x reader

Summary: Jake “Hangman” Seresin is a notorious leader within the Dagger Gang of the old western territories of the United States. You, a recently orphaned socialite from the eastern seaboard, find yourself swept off to live with your older brother who has set down roots in said western territory. Determined to to make the best of your situation, what will you do when said outlaw sets his sights on you?

Warnings: Mentions of parent deaths, swearing, no Dagger members yet, but they’re mentioned, use of y/n. I think that might be it?

Word Count: 1k

A/N: Feedback is always appreciated! Let me know what you all think! Should I continue? 18+ ONLY!! This work is also being published on AO3 under the username arcane_vagabond.

Series Masterlist || DGU Masterlist

The carriage did very little to quell the seemingly never ending heat of the western territories. In fact, you were fairly sure it was making it worse. You had long given up on attempting to read the many books you had packed - the heat coupled with the constant jostling from the dirt path causing you to nearly lose the contents of your stomach on multiple occasions. Why your brother thought he would try his hand at settling the expansive west, you’d never understand.

Your brother, Benjamin, wasn’t an impulsive or reckless man. No, quite the opposite actually. He had done well for himself back home in Maryland at your father’s law firm. One of the best law firms in the state, perhaps even the entire eastern seaboard. Your great-grandfather had founded the firm, and it was your brother who inherited the family’s legacy when your father had passed only a year prior.

You had let out a long sigh, still trying in vain to cool yourself down with your prized folded fan. It had been a gift from your mother on your sixteenth birthday, and it was one of the few things you had left of her now. Your father had been thrown into the depths of despair when she died - the doctor’s had said it was consumption. It was a miracle, really, that none of you had contracted it. Your father had withdrawn after her death, and your brother had been left to pick up the slack as a result. Thankfully, he had already been regarded as a respectable lawyer at the time. So it had thrown you for a loop when he announced one night at dinner that he was moving his practice out west.

You had had been completely against the idea, of course. Why wouldn’t you be? Your whole life was spent amongst polite society in Baltimore. Your friends were there. You had interests there. Your parents were buried there.

“We’ll make happier memories, y/n,” Benjamin had said with a soft smile. “We’ll have a fresh start there. What do you say, Scout?”

Of course, when he called you by your childhood nickname, it was hard to ignore the pull on your heart. You had earned that nickname before you had even hit double digits. Your father was an avid hunter, and despite the constant protesting from your mother, he insisted on bringing you along.

“It’s not proper for a young lady,” she had scowled at him, earning a mischievous smile from your father.

“And so is scowling, my darling. Yet, here we are.”

You chuckled at the memory. Your mother had grown red in the face and practically stomped her way out of the parlor. She had refused to speak to your father until he came home the next afternoon with a small bouquet of wildflowers. They had sat proudly on the table by the front door until they withered weeks later. And you had, indeed, gone on the hunting trip, picking up the art of tracking fairly quickly much to your father’s approval.

“She’s a natural! A regular scout, she is!” he had exclaimed excitedly to your mother when you had returned from the trip. Despite herself, your mother had smiled warmly at his enthusiasm.

Your heart clenched again at the happy memories from long ago. Your mother had died nearly five years ago now, and with your father’s death still so fresh, it was hard to allow yourself to dwell too long on those memories. Perhaps Benjamin was right. What you both needed was a fresh start.

The carriage lurched to a halt on the side of the road, and you heard the driver climb down from his perch. Gathering your skirts, you opened the door and stepped out into the blazing sun. No, the sun was much worse than the stifling heat of the carriage. Shielding your eyes from the dazzling light, you looked over to where the driver tended to the horses.

“Why have we stopped, sir?” You asked, moving to the front of the carriage. The older man looked up at you with a friendly smile, but you could see the tension that laced his shoulders.

“Just giving the horses a quick break, miss. We’ll be movin’ on shortly. I reckoned you’d want to stretch your legs for a bit, anyway.”

“Yes, thank you,” you smiled, looking around at the seemingly endless wasteland before you. Oh, how you longed for the gardens of Baltimore.

“How much farther until we reach Maverick?” You inquired. The newly founded town of Maverick was named after it’s founder - Peter “Maverick” Mitchell. A prominent businessman who had decided to try his luck at helping settle the west, much like your brother.

“Only a couple more miles now, miss,” the driver answered politely, eyes darting around the terrain.

“Are you quite alright?” You asked, nerves starting to eat their way up your spine.

“Just making sure we aren’t ambushed while we ain’t paying attention, is all.”

“Ambushed?” Your eyebrows shot up in alarm. The driver nodded.

“Yes’m. These parts are the Dagger Gang’s territory.”

“The Dagger Gang?” You murmured, inching closer to the carriage.

The driver scratched the back of his head and let out a sigh. “Some o’ the meanest sons of bitches in the west. Gang is led by Hangman and Rooster, and no one wants to get on their bad side.”

You didn’t respond. Of course you had heard rumors of outlaws here in the west, but you didn’t even think to entertain the possibility of them being anywhere near you. A mistake you now regretted. The driver must have seen your thoughts on your face because he offered you a reassuring smile.

“I reckon we’ll be fine, miss. Don’t you worry now.”

“Yes, thank you,” you answered politely, turning to make your way back towards the carriage. It was only a few moments later when you heard the driver climb back up onto his perch. The carriage lurched again as it began to move once again down the empty road.

Oh, what had you gotten yourself into?

[whatyadrawin]

The Fruit After The Flesh 18+ -CHAPTER 1-

Masterlist

Approximately 2,395 words

Pairing: Thomas Hewitt(HeadCanon) x AFAB reader

This chapters Warnings: Brief mention of self harm

A/n: This is a really self indulgent fanfic, it may have some common tropes and it will get very mature so MINORS DNI. I am making this a large slow burner because I am seriously falling in love with the setting and where the story is going. It may not be 10 chapters, it will likely be more. As with my other fics, I will finish this to completion and there will be varying amounts of illustrations for each chapter. I want to push the fact that this entire universe is headcanon. Having said all this, please enjoy. Fell free to leave a like, reblog, or comment if you're comfortable. Thank you for reading, I am so happy to be able to share my work with so many people who appreciate it.

Chapter 1

“Ma’am?”

You’re awoken from a pleasant nap by the voice of the taxi driver who picked you up from the airport.

“I hate to wake ya, but this here’s the end o’ the line fer me”

Slowly you sit up, the bright light of the sun shines into the backseat as the air conditioning gently breezes past your neck. You look out the window and are met with large swathes of yellow grass, dried up from being beaten by the sun’s intensive rays; The yellow of the grass is only contrasted by the bright azure blue of the sky, riddled with bright white fluffy clouds slowly lumbering across the horizon.

“S’good thing ya have such a small amount’a luggage huh?”

The cab driver popped the trunk and got out of the car to help grab your luggage, a small satchel of essentials and a suitcase of the last remains of the clothes you had left in Manitoba. You get out of the backseat and are immediately blasted with a wave of heat that weighs the air down.

“If you walk one mile up past this here gate, you’ll find the road getting’ ya t’yer home. I reckon no one’s been out here fer years. Ahm still not sure hwhat y’gone get up to”

You grab your belongings and thank the driver; he warns you to not take your time walking due to the intensity of the weather, then he gets in the cab and slowly drives off. You start walking past the open gate and toward the home that was left to you by a family member you barely knew. When you received the call from the lawyer dealing with the will, it was like a miracle, your business was tanking and you didn’t have much left financially. Being a seamstress in the town of Rivers was not easy, there was not enough work for you and the citizens didn’t have much to give for payment. Living there was lonely, your only friend passed away in high school because the stress of bullying got too much for her; since that incident, a deep hatred for humans remained in your heart.

You thought you had no more family left until the lawyer told you about your distant relative on mom’s side who had put you as the sole receiver to a fortune and the property. The only condition for getting access to the money was to come live on the property and care for the orchard attached to it. The lawyer informed you that your relative’s orchard had supplied the town and her written wish was for you to carry on its legacy. After living in a small town for all 33 years of your life you were excited to start fresh somewhere new, what better place to do that than Fuller, Texas which is virtually a ghost town.

The dirt road kicked up dust from your steps as you made your way to the first intersection, you took the turn and headed up the hill, the old driveway was overgrown with grass; You were grateful for the trees along the path, giving you shade from the sun, each one rustling in the gentle breeze occasionally dropping a leaf that would silently fall to the ground. Once you reached the top of the hill, you saw the house that was in the pictures the lawyer sent over, it was a small one storey house shining white in the sun. There were no trees around the front of the house but small bushes with wildflowers bloomed around it, your car was parked casually in front of the home next to a large moving crate full of the stuff you packed before you flew down. Having all your belongings and car shipped down early was a smart choice.

You made your way to the home, looking for the set of keys in your bag, the door opened with a creak and a distinct smell of old wood mixed with the ghosts of thousands of meals cooked wafted around you. The inside was quaint, all the electronics were dated but the décor was simple and rustic, this home felt cozy and welcoming as the sun pushed through the curtains leaving a gentle glow on the hardwood floor of the living room. You set your things down at the entrance and went to open every window to allow the stagnated air to circulate and cool the house before nighttime. You peered into the backyard, it was small but charming, there was a large tree that provided shade to the fenced area, and a white swing bench that had a bistro table set next to it. You walked out into the yard which was fenced by a weathered white picket fence, it overlooked the entire property. You walked up to the edge of the fence and noticed some binoculars set against one of the posts, you take them and use them to look around the land.

 You see a small home at the edge of the orchard -that must be the farmhand’s home, I should go let them know I am here and introduce myself-. You look further and see a large house in the distance, it has tall pillars in front and looks deteriorated; you slowly move the binoculars around to see the rest of that home, you find a barn and spot something large moving, you spin the binocular setting to zoom in further but struggle with the focus. After a short bit of fiddling, you manage to get a clear image and see that the moving shape was a man, a huge one, the man towers over the cow he is tending to, you squint your eyes to see if you can make out any details but all you can see is his long hair and that he has a face covering of some sort. You lower the binoculars and put your hands on your hips -who was that man? Is he really that tall? Maybe I should introduce myself to the neighbors as well-.

You spend an hour unpacking clothes and necessities from the moving crate, just enough to get you settled in, the furniture in the home still has some belongings from the passed relative that you need to clean out. After looking through the fridge and cupboards, you realize you don’t have anything to eat, and there’s no way you can get a delivery all the way out here, so you decide to take your car into town to see what’s available. The drive takes you along country road 26, you see nothing for a while and are almost startled when a small building shows up in the distance. You pull up and notice it’s a gas station and grocery store - I hope they have something I can eat in here-, you park in front of the entrance and go inside.

Everything in the store looks dusty and old, you feel a sense of unease at the prospect of going hungry tonight. You head to the register and see an older woman sitting on a stool reading a newspaper, she has white hair pinned up into a bun and thick reading glasses that look old enough to be from the 70s.

“Hi there” you say quietly

“Oh, I didn’t know someone had come in. Hi hun, how can I help you?” she places the newspaper down and stands up to greet you.

“I just moved into town and I realized I have no food for tonight, is there anything in here that can tide me over?”

“Welcome to Fuller! Let’s get you something to eat dear.” She looked surprised that you would even have to ask but she was happy to lead you over to some packaged goods and canned veggies.

“These here came in a few days ago with our latest shipment, don’t let the dust in here bother you none, I just haven’t had the energy to clean the place up better”

You smile and start grabbing some boxed oatmeal and canned vegetables, with these you would be able to eat for a day or two until you could to do a big shopping trip in the next town over.

You stop grabbing items and look over at her to say

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t even introduce myself, my name is Y/N. I moved into the property with the orchard”

You are interested now, and ask “You knew her? She was a distant relative to me and I actually inherited what she had, I feel bad about it because I didn’t know her at all, but I intend to keep the orchard going since that was her dying wish”

The woman’s eyes light up and she smiles, replying “Well now there’s a welcome surprise! My name is

Luda Mae, I’m your neighbor down the bottom of the hill, we did a lot of business with the previous owner, Tilly. She was a close friend of mine”

Luda Mae kept her smile but looked away as if she was starting to tear up, she spoke in a quieter tone “She was a real good friend, she felt like a sister to me. Did you know that without her starting that orchard, my folks would have” she stopped herself and paused looking around “Well let’s just say, she saved us”

Your interest in getting to know who Tilly was had spiked, the lawyer said she was well known to locals but never expanded on that. Luda Mae continues,

“Join me and my friend for tea tomorrow, I’d love to tell you all about Tilly, and that way you can meet my family as well, it’s always nice to have a friendly neighbor. I won’t take no for an answer”

You feel a bit of anxiety creep in, meeting new people was already difficult for you and what’s worse this was in a completely new place, so far out of your comfort zone. Luda Mae takes some of the items you grabbed and brings them to the counter and bags them. You follow her and place the rest of your things on the counter and say,

“What time did you want me to stop by?”

Luda Mae hands you the food and says “Just come on by ‘round noon, I’ve lots to talk about with you, there’ll be plenty of food too so that way these groceries will last a bit longer” She gives you a wink.

“That sounds really nice actually, what do I owe you for the groceries?”

“It’s on the house hun, let that be a welcome gift” she smiles and follows with “By the way dear, be careful around that farmhand, he’s a cruel old thing. Did you move with anyone? Maybe a husband or boyfriend?”

You feel a sense of worry at the thought of being alone on a property with someone mean, let alone a man who is cruel. You reply,

“No, I don’t have anyone, it’s just me”

Luda Mae suppresses a smirk, she follows you to the exit and opens the door for you saying “We’ll keep an eye out for you then, you’ll be alright dear, he’ll get what he’s owed one day”

Those last words really sparked fear in you, was the farmhand dangerous or just mean? It might be a good idea to introduce yourself in order to find out and possibly make a connection so you don’t seem rude. You put the groceries in the trunk and get in the car, Luda Mae waves to you as you pull out and head towards home.

Once you are home and the groceries were put away, you decide to go down to the orchard to see what kind of fruit are being grown. The trees are large and densely packed with fruits of all sorts, oranges, lemons, peaches, apples, and cherries. You are suddenly startled by a large, ugly man, he reeked of body odor and wore dirty overalls.

“Who the hell’re you?” he asks rudely.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to get in the way. I’m Y/N I am the new owner of this property after Tilly passed”

The man looks angry, he rolls his eyes and pushes past you saying,

“Ah thought she din’t have no family” You scrunch your nose in confusion, he continues “You best keep outta muh way”

You follow after him saying “I just wanted to introduce myself so you know who I am”

He continues walking off “Don’t care” and disappears behind another row of trees.

You feel upset, you were already weary of people because of their bad behavior, and now you have a rude, smelly man controlling the orchard that you are unsure how to get rid of. You decide to pick some fruits to bring to Luda Mae tomorrow and head back up to the house. You put the fruits you picked in a basket you found and walk back out to the yard to relax on the swing bench. -I’m going to have to get used to that asshole until I can learn how to manage this farm myself. At least I don’t have to work anymore, so I will have plenty of time to learn-.

You get up and head over to where the binoculars sat, and used them to look over at Luda Mae’s property again to see if there is a designated front door. -Why did she ask if I had brought anyone? was she asking if I was single?- The thought lingered in your mind until you saw that enormous man again, this time he was holding a chicken and watching a small group of them peck at the ground. The chicken looked so tiny in his hands, and he held it so gently, giving it soft strokes along the back of its head. You stood still watching this strange man pet a hen for what felt like an hour, his face being covered was intriguing and his wide frame was a real sight to behold even if it was from afar.

You notice the sun beginning to set and decide it’s time to get inside and get some rest, the thought of possibly seeing that strange man up close danced in your mind and excited you for tomorrow’s visit. -I hope I get to meet him-.

Next chapter-

[dadjokesbutgay]

Ava hcs p2 (The Coffee Incident)

Another mercs one!!!

ok so. In the Rocket Corp building, there is absolutely no coffee. In fact, there are no sources of caffeine within 200 meters of the Rocket Corp building. In the early weeks after The Incident, after coffee was removed from the building, a few new worker sticks might still bring in a cup. They weren't around long enough to have been there on... that day. If any brown liquid was detected, whoever saw it would delete it IMMEDIATELY, whether or not they were authorized to use the appropriate tools to do so. Whoever brought the coffee would either be warned by other, older employees not to do it again or caught by one of the higher cups and lose their job. Victim would personally punish anyone who dared let caffeine enter the company (the stronger the coffee, the more likely the poor stick was to be fired). However, this proved too inefficient and all cafes in the surrounding towns were quietly removed for small health violations not even the most detail-oriented lawyer would remember offhand until they were brought up in court. Caffeine was banned from all Rocket Corp institutions, but that wasn't what stopped the second coming of the incident. Agent, by some miracle, was what cancelled that apocalypse. Now, every stick employed by Rocket Corp has signed a contract at some point swearing off the consumption, handling, and/or possession of any form of caffeine. Victim will use any means necessary to stop another supplier from sneaking coffee into Rocket Corp and causing another Incident, as will the mercenaries.

Well, most of the mercenaries.

Unfortunately for the rest of Rocket Corp (and everyone, really), Ballista will never forgive Agent for prying that espresso from his hands, even if it was to prevent another Incident, even if the sheer amount of gratitude Vic showed Shady McSimps afterwards got his otp 5,000 steps closer to becoming canon, even if drinking that coffee would have made the world end (which it actually might have; Ballista and espresso is never a good combination).

He WILL obtain coffee again.

No matter how long it takes.

No matter the cost.

He WILL complete his goal.

And if that causes another Coffee Incident, so be it.

[iminthetunnels]

i cannot bear the pain. it is an embarrassment. i am a fool. how could i have done this. i wont hold back. i cannot lie. my entire life is filled with pain and regret. i’ve been given a horrible hand. i hate i have to make myself withstand it. i hate i have to be strong and bear the sorrows. i am not a victim. i refuse to make myself wallow in pity. i’ve written it before. i have spoken about how you’d never expect me to have lived the life i did. abused at 3, abused continually through adolescence. my entire childhood, sexualized. the one person, never believing me. my believer and confidant, my one true hero, died in a horrific accident. she was taken too soon. but it’s also gods time. this is probably where i developed chronic vaginal pain and back pain. from being penetrated at 3. i remember this all. i remember the day. i never, ever blocked it out. i had a baby sister shortly after and i remember her birth too. it was normal to me. 3. from then on, just abused myself the way i was abused as a toddler, as a child. went on to be abused by others as well. seek out thrills and “exciting” life of drugs, sex work, partying, addiction, homelessness, eventually loneliness. i pulled myself out of all of this by myself. i picked myself up. i got myself a career. i found what worked for me. i eventually went on to travel more. met someone who i loved endlessly. had their child. turned extremely abusive as the pregnancy began. and what’s cruel is, he comforted me in all my miscarriages. i had a traumatic one, where i saw the sac. it was large and i was 12 weeks along. he helped me tremendously. only to slam my head into a window and break my tooth out. it was a porcelain tooth anyway. still. my tumors and pelvic inflammation from when i was a toddler grew even larger in my uterus and pelvic floor. my entire pregnancy was agony. i even struggled with wanting to get an abortion. but i didn’t really want that. i really wanted my baby. i had dreams of him, and truth be told. i thought id miscarry. even ultrasound i expected the “im so sorry” but i eventually got to end mark. and i wanted this baby so bad i prayed for it. i almost died during labor. preterm laboring for lord knows how long. leaking fluid and my stomach clenching with each contraction. i almost died on the OR table. so did my baby. he suffered loss of oxygen and by the absolute grace of god, he came out only having minimal damage. we are on our way for testing for cerebral palsy. he has seizures, and nystagmus. he’s technically blind and developmentally delayed. but he’s so intelligent. singing to sade at just 2 years old. he’s very musically inclined. he’s a miracle. i saw angels surrounding me on the or table. i saw lights. i felt angels talking to me. nurses laughing at me. i remember so vividly. all i wanted was for my baby’s father to reach out and hold me. what a common theme. just wanting to be held. i had the worst time breastfeeding and horrible panic attacks over formula feeding. don’t care what anyone says about formula. i hated it. i switched to goats milk at 6 months old. and donated breast milk. he never slept, in fact, he was a “colicky” baby. he was angry. looking back, i had no idea he had brain damage. the only thing i noticed immediately were the eyes. the nystagmus. diagnosed retina damaged due to non delayed cord clamping. resulting in the nystagmus. tried fighting a case. completely dismissed because i had no money for a lawyer. no legal backup. the caused so many interventions. pitocin should be illegal to gove to women. induction due to preterm labor should be banned. i’m not even making a harsh claim. against all odds, i feel my child saved my life. my baby is 3. the age i was changing diapers, feeding my sister, abused. i remember it so vividly. i couldn’t imagine this life for my son. he’s so happy and so full of bliss. no matter what. i pray to god we make it thru. no evil intentions shall prevail. for the lord has me. i don’t feel scared saying anything. because the lord has me.

i looked at my blog from years ago. when i was a sex worker, when i was trafficked around and raped by several men, they shoved money in my mouth and spit on my face. they tormented me and told me my life was worthless. all for the “kink” i was a sex worker at 15, meeting up with men. men in the military, police men, hospital workers, pediatricians. the worst one was a dentist who paid for my dental pictures and teeth work. it was so insane. he literally went mia one day and could never find him. all these men told me they loved i was underaged. they knew. that’s why they were around me. and even more strange, i would go in public with these people. i would drink, smoke, do all these things in public with no ID, no hope, no anything. it truly makes you wonder how these things can even exist? the world has always been so gray and cruel to me. i know the advantages people in power get. i know the world is ran by filthy, nasty people. men and women. i know i felt like cattle. i knew they knew i was just “waste” i could die and no one would even bat an eye. i was homeless. but to everyone else, i was just a “runaway” i could of seriously been hurt. i don’t even know what happened when i would pass out. even more curiously, i never blacked out. no on alcohol, not on xanax, or mdma, or acid, or mushrooms, or coke. i was always so very aware of what was happening. and i took a lot. just crunching on 5-10 bars 2x a night. what is that? i can only think of it as it is happening in my head right now. what is that? what kind of life is that? i know that when i got older, past 13-16, men loved hearing how damaged i was they got off to it. i took the attention as love. oh these men want to hear me and listen to me. i became a mute at what?? 18. i was institutionalized and drugged at the mental hospitals. i struggled with panic attacks my whole life. different ones too. i feel like im floating talking about this. i’ve never typed it out. i’ve always written it down. i have a son who loves me very much and i love him very much. he is the light in such a dark place

my boyfriend broke up with me because i’m too negative. i had just taken my son to the cancer specialist and eye doctor. i was so overwhelmed with everything. all i wanted was a big hug and kiss. instead. he treated me like an anomaly. he treated me like i was insane. all these men. they look past men. all these men, they only see value in me when i give them my fake little happy faces. what if i told u i loved life. but i’m tormented. i have flashbacks every single day. i am not healed, i am only existing in such a world that i can’t even believe to be real. the only thing in my entire life, that has ever grounded me, that has ever felt real, are the words my son says to me. my son. the only thing that feels real. i feel pain in every fiber of my being. i feel it so deeply. i haven’t slept in days. i cannot eat. i am getting sick, throwing up and shaking. i can tell ive lost weight, in just 2 days? i was happy and eating before. this person gave me such clarity and hope. i thought i had an angel by my side. i thought the world wasn’t as cruel as it is. i thought i found true and honest love. i thought i was to marry him. the way my son would look at him and love him. they way my son grew with this person by them. only to be terrible betrayed. are all men like this. is this how my life is to be. i want only the best for my son. i will be going to school soon and finding a job thru my degree. i hope i make enough. it doesn’t need to be a lot. just enough for my son to be okay and know i did this all for him. because he’s the most important person in the world. i would lose all my color and oxygen to give him it all. he is my rock in this world and nothing will ever change that. i hope and pray no evil intentions prevail. he is the best thing to ever happen to me. he is why i still try. he is the reason. i dreamt about him before i ever had him. voices in my head told me he would protect me and that this is the life. voices in my head tell me i chose this life in particular. i am so glad i did. if it meant i got to meet my beautiful son.

[garretgentleman-art]

WHY NOT?! Okay, we going to wait until you're drunk enough to admit that Phoenix fits perfectly into your category of kittens. By the way, once Diego almost called him Kitten in game. There are affectionate nicknames that parents call their children, and there are names for flirting. This trio is in the first category, but Trite is in the second. Maya and Simon are in the category of older children, so Diego does not feel like a parent with them and uses their names (but sometimes Cookie/Сupcake and Birdy). I'm not an English speaker (obviously), so I really hope I'm not mistaken with the connotations. More options for Trucy: Sweetheart, Miracle, Sparkle, Dove... Headcanons:

- Diego worked for Wright & Co. as a legal consultant during his house arrest. Then Miles gave him back the position of prosecutor and he left, but he still go in there from time to time (mainly to chat with Phoenix and check if the kids is okey). - Phoenix has a magatama, Apollo and Trucy are psychics, and Athena is an empath. Diego is the only lawyer without advantages (he is more likely with debuffs). I think Pearl gave him a magatama, but he doesn't use it because he has standarts. Well, he can use it if he goes to interview killers... - Phoenix is a bad mentor and not a very reliable boss. He constantly leaves Athena and Apollo to study on their own. One day Mr. Armando came into the office. He felt sorry for the children, so he took them with him to the prosecutor's office. He not only gave them a tour, but also told them a lot of useful information and gave them a list of legal literature. Frankly, Apollo and Athena love and respect Mr. Armando more than they love their boss. - Diego won a more cases than Phoenix. He gladly tells young people stories from his practice and gives advice. Diego: Trite? How long have you been standing here? Are you interested too?? Phoenix: Uh, of course not, I'm the boss, I already know everything. Diego: Grossberg always said that attorney can only become a good lawyer after five years of practice. How many do you have? Four? You are still a beginner. Phoenix: Oh come on, I'm not the only one who missed a bunch of years here! Diego: ... Athena: (heard an emotion of depression) Boss how could you!!! Apollo: ??? Diego: Huh, right... Sorry kids, maybe my experience is too outdated in these 12 years. Apollo: 12 years? Mr. Armando, were they taken away your badge too? Diego: Badge? Yes, you can say so ... I was as naive as Phoenix, but the evidence that poisoned my life was slipped to me by a less kind girl. Phoenix: Can we.. haha.. Just have a coffee? - At the first meeting with Diego Apollo was very nervous. Trucy and Maya frightened him with the fact that Mr. Armando was in prison and was very strict with newcomers, but the fact that it was dark in the office and his spooky mask glowed influenced him the most. Diego sat at the table in silence and stroked the white cat like some kind of mafia. And then he completely broke the atmosphere by calling Apollo Bunny and offering him coffee. - Apollo is the only one who doesn't like Diego's habit of using nicknames. But deep down, he is glad that Diego is nice and patronizing with him, because he would not want him to be indifferent and scary. - Athena gets along very well with Diego and when she feels that he is sad, she always tries to cheer him up. My brother's brother is my brother, right? She wants to have a family dinner with Simon and Mr. Armando, but one of them is always busy at the prosecutor's office. Or do they do it on purpose? - Trucy treats Diego like family. Phoenix often brought her to the Fey manor, where Diego looked after her and Pearl. For a time, Trucy even considered him to be Pearl's father. She was not confused that Pearl was patronizing Diego (Pearl knows only one authority, the mystic Maya), because she does the same with her dad!

[coolcattime]

Okay, so I've been listening to the Ace Attorney musical again, and it gave me some inspiration to write down two of the case overviews for my Mianite Ace Attorney AU (it was gonna be three, but I'll go over that at the end :3 ).

So here is a bit of an overview of the first two cases of the AU!

Full AU Tag

Case 1-1: Turnabout Emergence

Defendant - Tucker

Defence Attorney - Tom

Assistant - Spark

Prosecutor - Jordan

Tom never thought that he would make it this far. After years of study and training under one of the most renown defence attorneys in the city, he’s finally certified as a fully fledged defence attorney. Well, actually he’s been certified for a couple of months now, but finally everyone in the office is actually free to celebrate. And for a few hours, it really seems like it might be just a nice night for the three. That is until Tom receives a phone call.

On the other side of the phone, there is Tucker, his best friend, somewhat nervously asking if he's managed to get his attorney’s badge. Tom excitedly tells him that he got it a few months back and invites him to come to the celebration tonight. Tucker says that he'd love to - but actually, he's just been arrested for murder and is kinda in need of an attorney.

Needless to say, the celebration is put on hold as Tom and Spark rush to the detention centre to meet their newest client. Tucker is relieved to see Tom and begins to tell him that his neighbour was murdered and the police think he did it. It appears that Tom’s first case is going to be far more serious than any of them could have anticipated.

After questioning Tucker at the detention centre for any details he can give of the situation, they head to the crime scene where they met the lead detective for the case Redbeard: a man that Tom recognises from somewhere (though absolutely cannot put his finger on where), who immediately seemed to dislike him despite being incredibly friendly with Spark.

He then learns that the prosecutor for the case is none other than Jordan. The man he became a lawyer to see again, a prosecutor currently undefeated in court. But Tom knows Tucker is innocent, so he's going to make a miracle happen.

Case 1-2: Turnabout Heartbreak

Defendant - Capsize

Defence Attorney - Spark

Assistant - Andor

Prosecutor - Martha

After Tucker's case, Tom is working through paperwork waiting on Capsize getting back to start their makeup celebration. He's distracted from this when a woman comes into the office demanding to speak with Capsize. Though Tom tries to cover up the fact that Capsize works here, the woman eventually flees the office when Spark appears.

Tom, confused as all hell, asks Spark who she was and is told that was Sonja Foxx: Capsize's ex-girlfriend who testified against her when she was accused of murder. Tom is, for maybe the first time in his life, speechless and listens to Spark recall the case where he met Capsize.

Around five years ago, on what was supposed to be a quiet week for Spark with Andor staying with him, he instead is greeted in his office by a frankly desperate-looking detective looking for a defence attorney for his sister. While Spark, at first, is hoping to direct the man towards another attorney he trusts will do a good job, upon hearing that it's a murder case, he agrees to take the case.

At the detention centre, Spark meets Capsize, a trainee prosecutor who was being mentored by the head prosecutor Ianite. She already knows who Spark is. It still takes him a short while to help her out of her shell-shocked state to get her side of the story.

He doesn't get much, Capsize claims to have been knocked out as soon as she reached the crime scene. But she does give the information that she was going to meet her girlfriend, and that said girlfriend is a frequent customer of the bookshop whose owner was killed.

At the scene, Spark is greeted by both Jeriah and Martha, who are the lead detective and prosecutor respectively for the case. This unfortunately leaves Spark without anyone that he trusts to keep an eye on Andor so he reluctantly keeps him around for the investigation. The twelve year old is actually quite happy to be helping with the investigation, even if "the ghost of the victim said they did it" isn't admissible in court.

Andor does, however, want to know why his aunt is on the other side of this investigation. Spark's also a little confused as to why Martha would take this case when, even with what little he's heard, it seems like an obvious frame job. Martha gives two reasons.

One: The only other prosecutors willing to take a case where the defendant is the head prosecutor's mentee were the head prosecutor herself and her other mentee who only got his badge that morning. Better she takes the case than either of them.

Two: She had leads that link the ownership of the shop to Them. While Jeriah and Spark both know what this means, Spark refuses to give any details to either Andor in the past or Tom in the present.

Either way, the investigation goes well, but as Spark suspected, it points to Capsize being called there to frame her. Given that the person who called her to the location was her girlfriend, Spark prepares for a messy day in court.

He's right to, as while he proves Capsize’s innocence, he also proves that Sonja purposefully called Capsize to the scene to frame her and her testimony similarly lies trying to frame her. Unfortunately, they never get to the bottom of why she did this, and Sonja fled the courthouse before the trial ended and was missing until five years later.

In the present, Tom sits in silence before declaring that it's a good thing he's a defence attorney because if Sonja comes back, he's killing her. Spark doubts that she'll return now that she knows he works here, but asks Tom not to tell Capsize for now about Sonja's reappearance.

Though Tom is reluctant to hide this from his friend, he's thoroughly distracted when she actually arrives as she's brought her brother. Her brother Detective Redbeard who it turned out Tom recognised from photos that Capsize had shown him.

Capsize asks Tom if he was under the impression that there was more than one man called Redbeard and soon enough the two are distracted enough by light-hearted bickering for Spark to quickly sneak off and call Jeriah to inform the man that they have a lead to follow in the Shadows crime ring because Sonja's back in the city.

Further Cases

So, now for a little ramble.

Basically originally I was gonna post the overview for three cases, 1-1, 1-2, and 1-4.

1-3 would basically be an OC case, something themed around Capsize and Tom going to a haunt then being hired as defence when I've if the actors is accused of murder. Very much in the vain of the original trilogy where the three cases are mostly unrelated to the overarching story.

Plus it would like me dress up Capsize as a pirate and Tom as a zombie for a scene.

However, my idea for Case 1-4 has changed enough that I'm back to the brainstorming phase. But I wanna discuss my ideas a little still.

Basically 1-4 is going to be this AUs version of Case 1-2 Turnabout Sisters. Blackmailer kills someone who was going to expose all their blackmailing.

And my original idea was to keep pretty close to the in game case. Have Spark be the victim, and Andor be arrested for it.

However, I started thinking and, well, I don't want to kill off Spark. I also don't want to arrest Andor two cases in a row, and doing a Reunion, and Turnabout style case with Andor to me just works better.

So brainstorming happened, while I don't have a full overview like I do for the other cases, I will say that Spark is the defendant, and a Mianite character will be killed of (even though, Mia Fey barely feels dead throughout the original trilogy with how often she's channelled).

[honestgrins]

kc + caroline has MANY complaints about klaus but her biggest one is that the only time he responds to her follow up emails is to ask whether something is illegal

Per My Last Email || Klaroline

Weirdly canon-esque, and I have no defense. But we all know Klaus would be Caroline's neediest client.

.

Dear Mr. Mikaelson:

Per the agreement you signed, my services have been retained for legal representation on your accumulated traffic tickets ONLY. Please note that these emails fall under attorney-client privilege, but you should still avoid excessive details that would test my standing as an officer of the court. I trust that you will respect my professional boundaries, as difficult as that will be for you. To make sure I have all the relevant information at hand, please forward me the details of your current ID, vehicle descriptions, and all license numbers. 

As your court date is tomorrow, please respond as soon as possible. Otherwise, I would highly recommend paying your tickets before 9 a.m. via the online portal. My retainer fee, however, is nonrefundable.

ID, vehicle descriptions, and license numbers, ASAP.

Best,

Caroline Forbes Salvatore

Attorney, MF Group

.

Sweetheart, settle a bet for me. Kol insists his baseball bat is considered a deadly weapon, but surely it's just the force with which he can wield the bat that makes it deadly - therefore, its presence alone cannot be considered "assault with a deadly weapon."

A speedy answer would be appreciated, I just noticed the local bar installed a security camera that may limit your legal arguments after the fact.

x

.

And don't think I didn't notice the "Salvatore" in your signature. 

I did.

x

.

Dear Mr. Mikaelson,

My married name is registered with the state bar association and a matter of public record. In fact, my ability to practice in Louisiana is predicated on the fact that "Caroline Forbes Salvatore" holds a valid law degree and active license. If you have a problem with that, please feel free to retain other representation.

That said, I do want to remind you that I may advise on hypothetical legal scenarios, but will not abet any illegal activity such as assault with a deadly weapon. The threatening manner in which you imply your brother might wield a baseball bat, hypothetically, would be enough to enhance any assault charges possibly caught on camera.

As your lawyer, I don't recommend putting these hypotheticals in writing, and I really don't recommend letting Kol loose on New Orleans with a bat. Hypothetically, the whole city has cameras and it's a miracle certain activities haven't come to light. Yet.

Since you failed to send me the necessary details before your court date, I asked Elijah. You're welcome for getting the parking tickets dismissed, by the way, even though your behavior in court was detrimental to your case. The judge was not amused by your sense of humor, and neither was I. To prevent a repeat performance, I would suggest storing your luxury sports car in your massive compound instead of literally the middle of a pedestrian plaza. Just a thought.

Elijah has also taken care of your court fees and my incidentals since I had to void your last payment. Next time, please just pay the invoice. You don't tip your lawyer.

Best, 

Caroline Forbes Salvatore

Attorney, MF Group

.

Love - quick question. Rebekah is throwing a bit of a tantrum and stole the doppelgänger blood I had stored. Is this a civil suit situation, or can I press criminal charges? Honestly, I think she'd have a lark in prison, but I think the inconvenience would be consequence enough for her to feel my ire.

x

.

Mr. Mikaelson,

Again, I'm sure this is a hypothetical situation where your sister, who lives in your shared family domicile and therefore has rights to whatever is stored inside, takes something of no actual value, such as human blood stored for medical study and nothing else, then - hypothetically - a grown man with substantial resources like yourself can surely see that neither a civil suit nor criminal charges would be wise to file. None of those details of a...supernatural...sort would belong in the public record.

Not to mention, sending your sister to prison would only get me and several other people killed.

Hypothetically.

Seriously, I'm too busy for this, and I'm not even on retainer anymore. I will be sending Elijah an invoice for this email communication.

Best,

Caroline Forbes Salvatore

Attorney, MF Group

.

I've wired a retainer fee directly to your account. And since you're on the payroll, I have some paperwork to go through. Working dinner? I'll buy.

x

.

Caroline: Klaus, you cannot send me a million dollars in a personal check. 

Klaus: Clearly, I can. Dinner?

Caroline: ...

Caroline: ...

Klaus: I'm thinking Italian. 

Caroline: If you think this counts as a retainer fee, I do not have the time to explain how wrong you are, but I will if I have to. To be clear, that is a threat, and you know I will follow through, complete with slide deck and appendices. If you would indeed like to retain my services for the family, Elijah and I have already worked through an initial contract with LIMITS, you absolute ass. All official business will go through him, I swear, or you will regret it. 

Caroline: Again, that is a threat.

Klaus: So, see you at eight?

Caroline: ...

Caroline: I'm donating the money you sent.

Caroline: But yeah, Italian sounds good.

Klaus: Change your email signature.

Caroline: Don't push it.

[fangirl201sworld]

Miracle Gifts (MATT & ENCANTO Croosover (Modern AU) Information

Alright, I've been thinking a lot about this story and I think I've got it. Here's an update on the story. (I may make some changes to it later, but it wouldn't affect the main story much, I think)

Characters: MAYA AND THE THREE

MAYA: She trains in a club specialized in boxing fight with Picchu and Luisa and her father is her coach. She dreams of being a great fighter like her mother was, who abandoned it when she became a mother, just as she doesn’t approve of the fact that she practices that sport because she wants to protect her from risk. She is also interested in history of any kind, myths, legends, etc. She also feels that her parents are keeping a big secret from her and her siblings, but she doesn't want to delve too deeply into it.

She dates the star model of the moment, Zatz. Many girls envy her for that, especially Acat, Zatz's ex (conveniently, she also practices boxing fight like her, only in another club. Which means that the two have a very constant rivalry and enmity)

ZATZ: He’s the star model of the most popular magazine in the city of Tecapolis (I don't know whether to change the name), but his greatest aspiration is to become a lawyer because he likes order and justice, and for a good reason: his father is in prison for committing a crime he did not commit, so he made it his mission to get his father out of prison. (It should be noted that his father was a police officer)

He also received training from his father to defend himself just in case. He works for Mr. Mictlan, head of the advertising company and candidate for mayor of the city and let's say that... working for him is not the best thing in the world.

He lives with his cousin, Chimi, in an apartment.

RICO: He studies natural sciences and chemistry, he wants to be a great scientist in the future. He has always had a deep crush on Chimi since he met her, and they have been dating her for weeks. They aren’t officially dating yet, but Rico is working on it.

He lives with his aunt, who has a somewhat poor opinion of him since his grandfather died. He tries to ignore it, but it still hurts.

CHIMI: She studies biology to be a great veterinarian. She loves animals and every time she can, she rescues animals that live on the streets in very bad condition.

Since she was a child, she has been bullied by some people because of her albinism, she manages to have some tolerance thanks to her friends. She has feelings for Rico, he seems very silly to her sometimes, but to her, he’s very cute and funny.

PICCHU: Like Maya, Picchu trains at the boxing club, although he doesn't spend much time there. Before, he had feelings for Chimi, but when she clarified that she didn't feel the same way about him and that she only saw him as a friend, he happily accepted it. After a few months, he met Barbara, a classmate from school (who also works at the Mictlan company), and as time went by, he began to have feelings for her.

He studies criminology with the dream of being a police officer one day.

Soon I‘ll make one with the Encanto characters. :D

[iris-sistibly]

“Baek Hyun-woo,

In the years that we have been together, I realized that you and I have always been destined to be together. Though we might not have been aware until now–the first time we met when we were kids, that was luck. I was lucky because you were there to save me from drowning. The second time, we were teenagers, you placed a band aid on my wounded knee, that was a coincidence. The third time was when you helped me fix the photocopier at the office, that was fate. I think even without knowing that we have already crossed paths when we were younger, deep inside, a part of me has always known that you were the one.

Although our relationship may be far from a fairytale, I have always had you. You are my light in the dark, my comfort in my most vulnerable times, my calm in the midst of a storm, my home when I am lost and have nowhere to go, and my safety in the most fearsome moments. When I found out that I was sick and dying, I prayed so hard and searched far and wide for a miracle, but I realized that I do not need to do that anymore, because the fact that you are still here with me, and the fact that I am spending my life with you is in itself a miracle. The love that you have given me all these years has healed me in so many ways, and for that I am grateful to you. I am grateful for you. 

I can’t promise to be a perfect wife, but when things get hard I will be with you in every way possible–to fix whatever is broken, to heal the pain, to hold your hand until I couldn’t anymore, to always choose you, to always love you. The years will pass and our hairs will turn gray and our skin wrinkly, but in my eyes you will always be the most handsome man, the smart and sexy lawyer with his sleeves rolled up and buttoned down shirt, the cutest drunk husband in the world, the most loving father to our little Soo-bin, and best lifetime partner I could ever ask for. 

I love you with all my heart, and I will always carry that love even in the afterlife.”

 ****

Spring is all about new beginnings, renewal, and rebirth. Plants start to sprout, flowers start blooming, and the chilling breeze becomes warmer again. As soon as the cold and gloomy winter ends, like a page in a journal that has been completely filled with words that expresses one’s feelings, and the events that happened that day, it was time to flip the page and start with a clean slate. 

May 2nd

To others, it was a seemingly normal day–a day to rush to work, run some errands or just whatever people were planning to do that day. It was about lunchtime, Baek Hyun-woo was just about to head out. He hasn’t seen Hae-in since heading to their respective departments this morning but he was already missing her terribly. He knew she was going to be very busy today, it didn’t help that Secretary Na couldn’t make it to work due to her husband being hospitalized. Coincidentally, his own secretary called in sick that day so someone else had to fill in his role while he recovers. 

“Will you be joining us for lunch Mr. Baek?” Mrs. Oh, his secretary for the meantime asked.

He was about to answer when his phone rang, his eyes lit up when he saw the name of the caller flashed on screen, Hong Hae-in . He couldn’t help but smile, the mere sight of it–even just hearing her name makes his heart jump. “You go ahead, I’ll be taking Ms. Hong out for lunch,” he answered. Mrs. Oh nodded and went ahead. 

Since they started dating (way before their first wedding), Hyun-woo and Hae-in have been the most interesting subject in a lot of rumors and gossip amongst the employees of the company. Some of it isn't true, a lot of it is an exaggeration of the truth. The internet wasn’t any better, nasty comments have been made about them, crazy theories, even accusations that they were lying about the divorce and Hae-in’s illness. Some of them would go as far as to accuse Hyun-woo of being a gold digger. Regardless, they were adamant at not publicly disclosing too much of their personal lives, not even the press. Sure they’d throw some crumbs occasionally, like the time they confirmed that they were together again during the press conference on the day the family returned to the company, but that was it. Most of the time, they keep it professional. Anything that has nothing to do with Queens are off limits. People can assume all they want, but they don’t owe them an explanation. Only those who are close to them know the truth and that is more than enough. 

Most of all, he and Hae-in are what matters.

As soon as Mrs. Oh left, Hyun-woo answered Hae-in’s call. 

“Hey I was just about to call to invite you for lunch,” said he. 

“Sure! Let’s do that, meet me at the rooftop.” 

“What? What do you mean–” 

“See you!”

The phone call ended, leaving Hyun-woo perplexed. Nevertheless, he went there. After being reinstated as the Director of the Legal Team, Baek Hyun-woo has earned a newfound respect from the employees, especially those who have been working with him for years. They kept praising him for doing an amazing job at proving Ms. Moh and the late Mr. Yoon Eun-seong’s schemes and ultimately saving the company. They regarded him as “Queen’s Knight-in-Shining Armor,” but for him he simply did what he had to because he also had grown to love the company and treated it as his second home. It is Hong Man-dae’s legacy, and he knows how important it is to Hae-in and her family… their family. Hyun-woo smiled at the thought, after years of walking on eggshells around his in-laws, he finally felt that warm sensation of belongingness he had always hoped for. That same familial bond he has with his side of the family. 

The warm spring breeze touched Hyun-woo’s skin as soon as he reached the rooftop, and there she was in her white, bow-tied silk blouse underneath a pastel pink tweed jacket and skirt. The pearl necklace around her neck made her look more sophisticated; she wore her hair down as always and even with light makeup, she looked so beautiful. Instantly, Hyun-woo’s heart started beating rapidly, Hong Hae-in has always exuded that confident, classy woman with a hint of sas and charisma. A lot of people say that she is intimidating, Hyun-woo disagrees. She is assertive, and straightforward, but she also has a softer side–the one that is kind and selfless, the type of person who would rather take all the pain than see her loved ones suffer, a woman who would bravely face any adversity and come out stronger than ever. 

That for Hyun-woo is what makes her the most beautiful.

“You’re finally here,” said Hae-in, her voice shook the man out of his reverie, nevertheless his smile never wore off.

“And why of all places in Seoul did you suddenly want to have lunch on the very top of Queens’ building?”  

Hae-in shrugged, “Well…for one the view from the top is nice,” she walked towards him at a slow pace. She is definitely a head turner, the way her hair bounced, and the way she smiled as she moved towards him was like watching a drama scene in slow motion. For a moment, Hyun-woo was out of breath.

“Plus it’s quiet and…” she was getting closer and closer, her voice sounding more sensuous, in her eyes was a hint of playfulness , “There’s only two of us here…” when she finally stopped, their distance was barely an inch. Baek Hyun-woo could hear his own heart beating loudly out of his chest, he knew she was teasing him and it was working–it always has. “...so we could have some privacy together, wouldn’t you want that?” 

God! Hyun-woo has been desperately fighting the urge to not crush his lips onto hers, and he’d do that–gladly–but not just yet. Who says Hae-in is the only one who knows how to tease? Hyun-woo wrapped his arm around Hae-in’s waist and pulled her, their bodies seemingly glued to one another, Hae-in’s hand on his chest, her eyes locked on his, their stares becoming more intense by the second. Suddenly, the temperature seemed to rise. Hyun-woo smirked as Hae-in’s cheeks turned red, her expression was a mix of surprise and nervousness, the former decided to take it a little further. He leaned towards her and gave her a peck on the lips, “Hong Hae-in, the last time we were in this position, we had Soo-bin…” His voice sounded insanely seductive, “By any chance…” he continued planting small kisses on her cheek, down to her jaw, “Is this your way of telling me that you want another baby?”

He could hear Hae-in gasping for air as he trailed down her neck. He has always loved her scent, but today was different. He couldn’t tell if she was wearing a different perfume or it was just him , but she smells so… intoxicating . It was driving him insane, making him slowly lose every ounce of self-control he has, his kisses becoming more lustful, “Oh…” a soft moan escaped from her mouth, which made him even more aroused. Heavens, if this doesn’t stop now…

“Wait!” Hae-in pushed him abruptly. Her face was flushed all over with little beads of sweat trickling down her face and neck, she was catching her breath like she had just finished a marathon. He felt slightly disappointed but he was never the one who would force Hae-in to do things she doesn’t like or isn’t comfortable with. Besides, they are still within the office premises, never in a million years would they want to be caught by someone else doing other business aside from business.

“Hey! Are you crazy?! There’s no way in hell that I’m gonna conceive at the top of Queens building you know!”

Hyun-woo blinked like a dumb idiot, “So…are you suggesting we go back to Germany and try for another baby?”

Hae-in lightly hit his shoulder, “Seriously? I still don’t know how you got to SNU.”

“Why? Our daughter was made there,” he said matter-of-factly.

“I was the one who got pregnant so I don’t need to be reminded,” she replied almost immediately. Her face became serious afterwards, “Hyun-woo, remember when you proposed for the third time? And I said that I’ll marry you again but I’m gonna be needing some time?”

Hyun-woo nodded.

“Well the truth is…the reason why we’re here is because…I want to tell you that I'm ready,” Hae-in took a deep breath, she never crumbles under pressure but today, she seemed genuinely nervous, “You are my husband, you have always been even when we divorced, nothing changed. You helped me heal my past wounds and made my broken self whole again. I became the best version of myself because of you, and now there is nothing I want more than to give my best–as best as you do to build us a loving home. For you and me, but most especially our daughter,” she held out her hand, “But first, let’s make us official again…shall we?”

Hyun-woo was briefly at a loss for words. Hae-in can be candid at times but this was one of the moments where she surprised him–in the greatest way possible. Tears started forming in his eyes, he was grinning from ear to ear as he held her hand. “Yes,” he answered. He then pulled her back once again and kissed her passionately. He couldn't count how many times they’ve kissed over the years, but each time he felt butterflies in his stomach. His friend, Kim Yang-gi once asked whatever witchcraft Hae-in has been using that makes Hyun-woo gush and coo over her like a cute little teenager having a huge crush on a popular girl. Hyun-woo just shook his head and chuckled, “It’s not witchcraft, it’s love,” he corrected. Yang-gi just rolled his eyes and gulped his bottle of soju. 

“I love you,” whispered Hyun-woo when their lips parted.

“I love you too, but I couldn't wait any longer for the wedding.” 

Hyun-woo was about to ask what she meant but was interrupted by the sound of a helicopter approaching. When he looked up, he recognized it instantly, it belonged to the Hong family. Hyun-woo shot Hae-in a quizzical look but the latter just smiled and winked at him, both of them watched as it slowly descended, and landed on the helipad. 

“Hae-in, what exactly is happening right now?” Hyun-woo was becoming more confused than ever.

“Baek Hyun-woo, do you trust me?” 

“Of course.” 

“Then let’s get married, now .”

“What?! N-Now?” 

Hae-in nodded. 

“B-But W-What about our families? Our baby?” 

“Oh don’t worry, they’re waiting for us.” 

Hae-in pulled him and together ran towards the helicopter. As to how in the world they’re gonna get married on that very day Hyun-woo had zero idea, but whatever happens starting today onwards, he will not hesitate to embrace it–the good, the bad, the happiest and the saddest. There is no such thing as a perfect marriage, at times it can be difficult and complicated. But as long as they have each other, then that’s all they ever need. 

Until Forever Ch. 1: No way without you now

By: Iris

Click here for more chapters :)

A/N:

Hello! I have decided to change the title based on the song inspiration or song that I have been listening to while I was writing. For this chapter, it's The Reasons of my Smiles by: BSS ☺️

This part is inspired by an actor from my country who surprised her partner with the wedding of her dreams (they have been together years prior and share 2 kids). I thought it would be cute, but I live for the role reversals, hence Hae-in is going to surprise her hubby.

Soo-bin was supposed to exist in the later parts, but I ended up doing otherwise because it just clicked to me.

Writing a scene where it requires sexual tension is not really my strong point but...I tried.

[itsnotzka]

Hello! Huh, what's this? A silly, cheesy little thing, I'd say ;)

TW: (very mild) alcohol, talking about stalking in a not very serious manner Genre: ...fluff? Silly fluff? Confused fluff? Word count: 5,3k Characters: Jake x Phil You can also read it on Ao3.

Not your stalker

With a quiet, contented sigh and a smile on his face, Phil finally let the last customer out and closed the door of Aurora behind them. He turned around and took a few steps towards the center of the pub, taking it all in. The wooden floors creaked softly under his feet. The air was thick with the comforting scent of dust, cigarette smoke, and the faint aroma of old furniture.

He knew it wasn’t the most pleasant smell for most, but for him, it was everything. To Phil, it was more than just a smell; it was a reminder of all he had, and almost lost just a couple of months back. 

Every time he started cleaning up Aurora for the night, he thought about the day he was accused of a crime he didn’t commit and thrown into jail for a few weeks, with basically no explanation. The memories still lingered in his mind, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth.

For quite some time, nobody really cared about him. They had other things on their minds, such as their missing friends being found. He knew he wasn't a perfect person. People tended to either love him or hate him. However, at that time, those he thought were his friends simply didn't care, while those who couldn't stand him laughed behind his back. There was somehow no in-between.

The bartender couldn't help but smile, still lost in thought. He was released from custody only because someone had paid his bail. Then, mysteriously, his lawyer found evidence of his innocence. Normally, there would be nothing unusual about this—lawyers have their own methods for uncovering the truth and exploiting legal loopholes—but the sudden clarity of this particular situation was nothing short of a miracle. At least it felt that way. Despite the happy outcome, his lawyer seemed eager to sever all ties with Phil as soon as possible. In fact, he refused to even accept any money from him, leaving Phil with a sense of both gratitude and absolute confusion.

He hadn’t told his sisters about it. At first, he suspected they might have been involved, but he quickly dismissed the thought. He knew Jessy and Angela all too well; they were always quick to point out his flaws and mistakes, even the smallest ones. Surely, they wouldn't have helped him without a big, wonderful lecture about his life. So he just told them the case was solved, period.

He stopped caring about it and moved on. At least, that's what he was telling himself. He shook his head in frustration, trying not to overanalyze everything once again.

He walked over to the bar, slowly making his way through the tables, turning off the lights, picking up empty beer mugs, and wiping down the surfaces. Unable to shake his thoughts away, he changed the music to something less modern to keep his mind off things, but it didn't help either. Then he was suddenly snapped out of his thoughts by the sound of the bell hanging above the door.

“I’m sorry, I already closed the pub,” he said, turning towards the sound. “Come back tomorrow, eh?”

Only then did he look at the person standing in the doorway and frown. He didn't recognize them. He knew basically every face, every name in Duskwood, after all. He knew at least something about everyone. Those were the advantages of running the only pub in town! Rumors came to him, and tourists, if they appeared at all, came early and didn't stay long.

And yet… there was a stranger in front of him.

The man didn’t answer. He just raised his brow slowly, glanced at Phil, and then looked around the pub.

“Look… I'm tired, I've already cleared the tables. I can give you a beer to go, but that's it,” the bartender said again, his tone tinged with a hint of annoyance.

“I don’t drink,” the stranger replied, his voice resonant and clear, his eyes meeting the bartender's.

Phil paused, the corners of his eyes narrowing slightly as he tried to read the stranger's face, but it was particularly hard. “So, can I help you with anything else?” he asked with a sigh, crossing his arms over his chest. He wasn't sure, but the stranger seemed to give him a small smile. Then the man closed the door behind him and briskly walked down the two steps that led inside the pub.

“I just thought I could finally visit this place,” the man replied casually.

The bartender sighed deeply, trying to keep his composure. "Listen, man… I already told you, Aurora is closed for the night," Phil said firmly, walking over to the door and opening it wide. "I'm sorry, but I can't let you stay here. Now be so kind and get out, or I'll call the police.”

"Oh? The same police that were stupid enough to arrest you?" the stranger’s mocked.

The pub was quite dark, with most of the lamps already turned off by Phil. But at that moment, the light of a street lamp shone in through the open pub door, casting a warm glow on the stranger's face, finally illuminating his features.

As the bartender glanced at his unexpected guest, he noticed the fairly young man was likely around his age, if not a few years older. His all-black outfit, complete with a backpack clearly designed for carrying a laptop, gave him a serious and tidy vibe. Although his nearly black hair seemed neatly combed, it curled in every direction, as if mocking his efforts to keep it in check. Phil couldn't help but notice the man's tired, dark eyes. Yet there was something about his gaze, a level of… maturity that Phil had not expected to see.

“Get out,” the bar owner repeated, but without much conviction.

The stranger laughed softly but ignored his words, calmly and surely walking over to the bar. Laying his heavy backpack on one of the barstools, he sat on another, resting his hands on the counter.

“Could I get some coffee?” he asked, looking over his shoulder at the somewhat confused bartender.

Phil was not a person to be easily upset. True, sometimes he could say too much or react too harshly, but only with words. He was good with words and with people. But for some reason, the stranger didn't seem to care about that… and it was annoying.

“What do you want from me? Didn't you hear what I said?” Phil snapped, his frustration boiling over. He slammed the door shut, the sound reverberating through the room. Turning to the man, he stomped over, his footsteps echoing in the silence. Grabbing the stranger's arm, he spun him around on the stool with such force that he almost fell off his seat.

Phil was surprised when the stranger didn’t react with fear or surprise, but instead looked at him with an understanding gaze, as if he knew something that Phil didn't. The bartender's anger slowly dissipated as he studied the man's reaction, taking a small step back.

"Now, to answer your questions…”  the man sighed, shifting on the barstool once more. “First, I'd appreciate some coffee or something else with caffeine. For your other concern… of course, I've heard what you said, but I don't necessarily want to leave. The truth is, I feel like I owe you this meeting… or at least an explanation."

Phil scoffed. "Oh, you think so?"

"Correct," the stranger exhaled. "I should have done it sooner, but somehow, well... To be completely honest with you, Hawkins, I think you were getting on my nerves a bit too much," he added with a lopsided smile.

"So, you know who I am?" Phil's anger was replaced by curiosity in less than a few seconds.

The bartender then quickly bit his bottom lip, refraining from asking the stranger more. He was well aware of one of his greatest flaws and, even though he didn't like to admit it to himself too often, he secretly enjoyed being the center of attention. No matter what.

"So... no coffee then? Well, that's a shame," the stranger rested his hands on the counter once more and pointed to a soda drink on the right side behind the bar. "So let’s put it this way. The truth is, I happen to know quite a bit about you accidentally, even though you probably don't know who I am. Before you jump to any conclusions - no, I am not your stalker; no, I am not trying to extort money from you; and no, I am definitely not involved in any scheme or conspiracy that would require your involvement."

"You know about me... accidentally ?" Phil repeated doubtfully, walking behind the bar and facing the stranger. "What kind of bullshit is that?"

"Oh, well..." he chuckled again, "I wouldn't say it’s bullshit. Not entirely, at least. You see, we both became involved in the same case a while back, and I was actually forced to learn more about you. You understand that I did not do this for my own enjoyment, although I must admit..." he hesitated, then cringed, "You are not very cautious with what you post online; that was so easy... So yes. It was, at least to some extent, accidental."

"The same case...? Wait, wait, hold on..." Phil resisted the urge to grab his own head in surprise. "Are you... that guy? That hacker or whatever. That tech-savvy guy that disappeared after Hannah was found? No way it’s you… Police say he's dead. That he died during the mine fire."

“I have two pieces of information for you,” the stranger leaned forward conspiratorially and spread his hands. “The first one... I’ve heard you were a good bartender. I somehow can’t picture that, you know?”

Phil looked completely confused as the man rolled his eyes slightly and nodded meaningfully at the soda bottle once more. Gritting his teeth, Phil blindly reached into the fridge, pulled out a bottle, slammed it against the counter, opened it with the agility of a truly experienced bartender, and pushed it towards the man, ending with a jazz hands gesture.

Annoyed jazz hands gesture.

The man only chuckled and nodded in approval, taking a sip of his long-awaited drink.

"And the second thing?" the bartender urged.

“The second thing!” the stranger chuckled. “The second thing is… I don't think you trust the police after all the trouble they caused you, so do you think you should trust them if they say that guy is dead? You’re talking about that Ironsplinter mine fire, correct?”

“Yeah… there was no way he survived that.”

“Oh?” the man chuckled, “I think his chances were quite good, actually.”

Phil frowned, “How so?”

"Well..." the stranger spread his hands again. "I'm not an expert, but I know a thing or two about mines. Actually, I know a lot about many things, but it doesn't matter now... I won't bore you with the details because you probably don't care, but believe me, there are many safety features in mines like that one that can help you survive fire, explosion, shockwaves... It's just a matter of knowing your surroundings well. The amount of air can be a problem during a fire like that, but it can also be remedied. So… maybe he didn't die after all. But what do I know?”

“That's… interesting,” Phil concluded, and the stranger snorted.

The bartender fell silent, analyzing every single word the stranger had said. It was already clear to Phil that he would not tell him anything directly, especially not about himself. The man didn't confirm anything explicitly, but he didn't have to. Phil already knew the answer to his question.

“Alright, I get it… So should I call you Jake, then? That was the name of that techie guy, if I remember correctly.”

“Was it, really?” the stranger smirked. “In that case, you can call me whatever you want, Hawkins. Jake is a name as good as any.”

“Really? Okay then, Techie,” Phil placed his palms on the counter. “You’ve said you owed me… why exactly? Why are you here?” he reiterated, still confused by the stranger’s presence.

Jake paused for a moment, his piercing gaze fixed on the bar owner. Phil was not one to be easily intimidated, but there was something about Jake that made him uneasy yet intrigued at the same time. Was it his unwavering confidence, his carefree attitude, or maybe something else entirely?

“I understand that my visit may seem unnecessary, but I felt compelled to come,” Jake responded, his tone measured and deliberate. “You see, there’s something about you that… let’s say, that doesn’t add up to me.”

“Oh…” the bartender nodded, feeling annoyed and somehow disappointed again. “So you want to accuse me of more things, then? Tell me I should rot in jail, like some other wonderful people?”

“No... nothing like that,” the man chuckled nervously, his dark hair falling onto his forehead. He brushed the locks away with a casual flick of his hand, trying to hide the fact that he was clearly troubled. As he paused to collect his thoughts, his eyes darted around the room. Finally, he spoke again, his voice hesitant and uncertain.

“I know someone anonymously paid your bail, and I may know more about that. I may know a lot about that. And I believe it still bothers you, so I think I should share it with you. And, well… I suppose what I'm trying to say is that this meeting has been weighing heavily on my mind. I've been thinking about it quite often, trying to figure out what to say or… how to say it, and I think I still don’t know… I mean… okay, here's the thing. Do you remember the second person who got involved in this case by accident?” Jake continued, “You… you invited her to Aurora. She never came here, but still, you did, and—”

“The girl? Shit… okay, now I think I get it,” the bartender sighed deeply and nodded, as he couldn’t believe it was that simple. It was always that simple when there were feelings involved. “Don’t tell me… It hit your ego, didn't it? You liked her, right? Did you come to tell me I was not only released from the arrest thanks to you, but they actually arrested me because of you in the first place? You got jealous of that girl, and that's why I had a shitty couple of months? Was it your revenge?”

The stranger shrugged, but his awkward smile said it all.

Guilty as charged.

“Great... so you almost ruined my life over some chick I don't even know?! Only because I invited her here? I did nothing wrong! Couldn't you explain it between you two? You had to get me into this… And you still have the nerve to come to my bar and—”

“No, wait,” the alleged hacker silenced him with a gesture. “I mean… you almost got it right. I do feel guilty you were in that arrest for quite some time, but for a different reason…” the stranger rubbed his neck nervously. “What if… hypothetically, of course, what if I knew right away how to get you out of this? I knew you were innocent and I had proof for that? But... she was so interested in you... and you in her! And I didn't want you to be interested in her… I guess I was just… confused about you. Shit, it doesn't make sense, does it?”

Phil frowned, but slowly the meaning of the stranger's words began to dawn on him. He wasn't after the girl who helped solve the case. Techie was after… him.

He was jealous of… him?

Was that even possible?

He knew he should be angry. Furious even! It was about his life! Countless hours wasted in the arrest he didn’t deserve! Yet, somehow… The guilty look on the stranger’s face made it fade away. He'd be lying if he said he didn't wonder who that mysterious hacker was from back then, or why exactly he was involved in the case. He knew back then that the answers to these questions were just beyond his reach, but now, miraculously, he was sitting in front of him, almost vulnerable and almost exposed. His fascination overcame his anger. The stranger's eyes were full of remorse, and for a moment, he felt a twinge of sympathy.

Sympathy and something else, but he wasn’t sure what it was…

Curiosity!

It had to be just curiosity.

“My, my… So I think you are my stalker, after all…” The bartender hummed, taking two steps away from Jake, but somehow couldn't help but smile.

“No. No, no. Nuh-uh! This statement is definitely not true!” The alleged hacker protested immediately, pointing his finger at Phil as he blushed a bit, his heart pounding in his chest. "I know things about you, and I learned them without your consent, that is correct. Good luck to you with suing me. But I— it’s not my fault. And I didn’t— I wasn’t really— I just wanted to understand you better!" He paused and took a deep breath. "Didn't I help you after all?! You got out, didn’t you? And I am not a stalker! Jesus, I think I need a real drink… " he trailed off.

The bartender was taken aback by the unexpected outburst and blinked a couple of times in confusion. However, he soon burst out laughing, unable to hold it any longer. "Wow, you really lost your cool there, man… You’ve just admitted to some weird things…" he said between chuckles, "I didn’t think it was possible! In fact, you sound exactly like a stalker trying to explain himself, you know." The bartender knew his mocking tone only made the situation more awkward and uncomfortable for the stranger.

“Yeah.. Coming here was a mistake, I guess…” Jake scoffed, grabbed his backpack, and was about to jump off the stool and leave the pub, but Phil, without thinking too much, grabbed his forearm. The stranger winced in surprise, but as his dark eyes met the calm eyes of the bartender, he slowly sat back down.

“Alright, okay. You’re not my stalker, yeah?” Phil smiled,letting go of his arm, “But I think you still owe me more explanation. Fair?”

“F-fair,” the stranger muttered.

To Phil's surprise, Jake leaned forward from his stool and across the counter, invading the bartender's personal space as if it was absolutely nothing unusual. The stranger's arm accidentally grazed Phil's shoulder as he gently pushed him away and reached for a bottle of whiskey and two glasses from behind the bar. Before Phil could even register what was going on, the stranger was already sitting back on his stool, pouring the liquor generously into the glasses.

“I… thought you said you don’t drink,” Phil observed, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah. And I thought you were a self-absorbed, narcissistic, brainless drama queen, and yet here we are, engaging in a somewhat intelligent conversation. How about that?”

Phil chuckled, a bit taken aback, as he watched Jake down his drink in one swift motion, followed by a wince and quiet grunt. With a solid tap, the stranger placed the glass back on the counter, exhaling audibly.

“That’s some terrible whiskey, Hawkins,” he admitted, reaching for the bottle to pour himself another.

“It’s my finest one, Techie,” Phil smirked, “And the most expensive one, too.”

“Still quite terrible, for my sophisticated taste… And don't call me Techie.”

“Then don't call me by my father's stupid name.”

Jake blinked a couple of times, as if realizing something. “Right. I forgot he was an asshole, too. Bigger than you.”

“You forgot— oh, Jesus…” the bartender whined, “Don't tell me you even know about my father? I didn’t post anything about that online… How the fuck? How much do you exactly know about me, Stalker?”

“Again with the stalker…” the hacker poked Phil’s chest with his finger, “Listen, the thing about your father is quite well-known around town, isn't it? It's not that weird that even I know about it… and I didn't have to dig too deep to—”

“Damn it, Stalker.” Phil shook his head in disbelief, “You're a walking red flag. I should have thrown you out as soon as you came here. Why am I even still talking to you?”

“Oh, come on, I've never— I am not that bad.”

“Any other sane person would have handed you over to the police a long time ago, Stalker. You do realize that, don’t you?” Phil finally took the glass into his hand and sipped his whiskey.

“But you won’t do that,” the stranger smiled as he clinked his glass with Phil’s, “You think you’re so much better than me, don’t you?”

“That's very possible. So what do you think about me, then? Besides that I’m a brainless douche, that is…”

The bartender's question lingered in the air for a few seconds before Jake spoke up. His voice was clear and confident, matching the intensity of his gaze, "I have a couple of thoughts, actually," he said, pausing for dramatic effect, taking a sip of his whiskey as well, "Ready? First and foremost, I think that you have an overinflated sense of self-importance," Jake's tone was stern but not unfriendly, "Secondly, you have a habit of getting under my skin. I can't explain it, but something about the way you carry yourself and the things you say just... irks me, but that much you already know. It's like you're actually trying to push my buttons or something!" He shook his head in frustration. "And finally, I think you may be a ginormous asshole, but you're also… intriguing in a way that I don't—don't quite understand." Jake paused once more, letting his words sink in. Then he, once again, angrily poked Phil’s chest with his finger, "And I don't like it. Not. One. Bit.”

“Oh? And you’re very weird, Stalker. You know that, right?” A little pissed off by the stranger's behavior, Phil grabbed Jake's hand and moved it away from his chest, but didn't let it go afterward. Suddenly, he felt a strange warmth spreading throughout his whole body, an electrifying feeling caused by the touch of the hacker's skin on his own. The stranger looked straight at him, his big, dark eyes almost like they were trying to read his soul. The expression on his face reminded Phil of a deer in the headlights and it definitely didn't help him with getting rid of the hacker.

As Phil slowly released his hand, the silence between them engulfed them both. Jake’s Breathing became heavier, and his cheeks, once pale, now glowed with a blush.

The bartender rested his elbows on the counter right next to him. Close enough to feel the slight touch of fabric of Jake's hoodie on his skin. The stranger's earlier confidence seemed to have disappeared, and the bartender couldn't tell whether it was the alcohol or Jake's confessions that had caused this change.

After a brief moment of silence, the stranger spoke up, "I'm sorry," he said, leaning forward slightly.

The bartender furrowed his brows. "What exactly are you sorry for? Because I could name a few things now..."

The hacker smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes, "I didn't mean to be annoying, "he admitted, his hand idly drifting towards the bottle of whiskey on the counter. He rested his hand on it but refrained from lifting it. “I'm not exactly a people person, you see. I just… I wanted to get you out of my head. It didn’t quite work out as I expected…”

Feeling the weight of the moment, Phil gently placed his hand on the whiskey bottle, his fingers brushing against Jake's. The hacker hesitated, his gaze locked onto Phil's intense stare.

In a soft, almost whispered voice, Phil spoke, "Easy there. You're not much of a drinker, and if there's something you want from me, I want you to be clear-headed enough to ask for it. You're already a puzzle without the alcohol. Stick to your soda, Stalker."

Jake's eyes shifted from Phil's to the bottle, as if contemplating its significance. 

After a moment of reflection, Phil continued, his voice measured, "Alright, let's lay it out. You're quiet, so let me see if I understand correctly..." He released his grip on the bottle, meeting Jake's gaze with a steady intensity. "You're suggesting that I'm getting under your skin, but I'd argue otherwise. I have a feeling you actually like me, and you're just not sure how to handle it. That’s your dilemma, Techie.”

"Wow, okay. If what you're saying would even be true," Jake said dismissively, "Would that even be a problem? Like, you know… my problem?”

Phil leaned in closer to Jake once more, a small smile forming on his lips. His fingers traced the hem of the stranger's sleeve playfully as he leaned forward more, "Well, we could always make it my problem, too," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper, “Because, believe it or not, you somehow… fascinate me, too.”

“Oh?”

"Don't get me wrong... You obviously have issues, and I have a feeling your mere presence means trouble. But, the thing is, I don't mind trouble. Life’s boring without it, right? And maybe I should keep an eye on you… to stop you from stalking me further. So… which is it? Do you like me or hate me?"

Jake’s dark hair fell across his face, but Phil could still see the glint in his eyes, "I still can’t decide… Can I say it's both?"

Phil’s smirk grew wider, “It never happens, you know. People either love me or hate me. But you…” he shook his head, “You’re different.”

“Is that a compliment? Are you telling me I’m special? It could be good and bad, you know…” Jake chuckled as he playfully pushed him away, his hand lingering on his chest a little too long.

Then Phil realized he was somehow already long gone... The stranger had managed to wrap the bartender around his finger without him even noticing. The mischievous twinkle in Jake's dark, deep eyes was impossible to resist, drawing Phil towards him like two black holes. Phil found himself powerless to resist the pull, feeling as though he had absolutely nowhere to run.

“What?” Jake asked, noticing Phil was staring at him without saying a word, “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I have an idea how to help you with your dilemma. Can I… check something?” Phil tilted his “Um, what exact—” Jake wanted to ask, but he didn’t get to finish his question.

Phil was tired of guessing. He sighed, taking the stranger’s face into his hands, his fingers gently entwining with the strands of Jake's dark, tousled hair. As he leaned in, his heart raced, and he could feel the warmth of the hacker's breath on his lips. Yet, to his surprise, Jake tensed up, his eyes widening in a mixture of anticipation and uncertainty. Phil's fingers tightened slightly on Jake's hair, reassuring and firm.

Their kiss was soft, almost tentative, their lips barely grazing each other's. Yet, Phil's tongue slowly found its way into Jake's mouth, and the man welcomed it with a quiet sigh.

That was it. That was what Phil wanted to achieve. 

Phil couldn't suppress a chuckle as the taste of whiskey lingered on Stranger's lips, a soft, breathless sound passing between them. He felt Jake's hesitant smile against his own,a silent acknowledgment that he finally realized what it was all about.

The bartender was suddenly glad that there was a bar counter between them, otherwise he would have pulled the stranger much closer.

“Shit… you really did that,” Jake mumbled as they broke the kiss, but they stayed close, “And you know what’s worse? Fuck, Hawkins, I think I liked that…”

Phil's lips curved into a smirk, his voice low and hoarse as he looked deep into the Stranger’s eyes that no longer felt strange to him, “Liked it, eh? Well, well, well... Seems like we've stumbled upon something interesting here.”

Jake exhaled, his reddened lips still curled into a smile, “Don’t get any ideas, Hawkins…”

The stranger leaned back a bit as Phil’s hands let go of his hair. Then he playfully tugged at Phil's t-shirt, the fabric stretching slightly as he did so.

Suddenly, the watch on the stranger's hand emitted a high, short beep, interrupting the moment. Jake’s expression changed immediately as he glanced at the device. He sighed heavily in frustration, and without any explanation, moved away from the bartender, hopped off the stool, and grabbed his backpack.

Phil was left quite confused. He quickly jumped out from behind the bar and grabbed the stranger's arm, wanting at least some sort of explanation, “Hey, whoa… What is it?”

"I have to go. I'm sorry,” the stranger said quickly, his tone tinged with regret.

"Wha— Why?" Phil asked, his grip on the stranger's arm tightening, “Is it because we–”

"No," he replied with a slight smile. "I don’t really want to go. But it doesn’t matter. You wouldn't believe me anyway."

Phil's brows furrowed in confusion. "So.. you're just leaving me like that? After we–" he scoffed. "Will I… will I even see you again?"

The stranger paused, a thoughtful expression crossing his features. Then, he smiled slowly, his fingers lightly tugging at the hem of Phil's shirt once more. "Even if I wanted to come back here, which I do not confirm at all," he said, his voice teasing, "I would… probably come here tomorrow, same time. Purely hypothetically, of course. We could… get to know each other better. Properly. Without any hint of stalking."

Phil's heart skipped a beat at the prospect. He needed to see him again.

"Is that so, Stalker?" Phil said, grinning, “You mean I could get to know you better. You already know all about me, right?”

The hacker snorted, “Oh, come on, I thought we’re past it…”

“But I don’t want you to go,” the bartender admitted, his voice softer.

The stranger smiled in a way that made Phil’s head spin, “Too bad, Drama Queen. I’m already gone.”

“Well then, Techie. I’ll be thinking about our next, hypothetical meeting.”

A snort of amusement escaped Jake's lips, but his eyes betrayed his hesitation as he held Phil's gaze, “See you never. I demand coffee next time. And maybe some better whiskey…”

At that moment, it seemed like the hacker wanted to say or do something, but he only managed to muster a frustrated grunt. He shook his head, allowing his dark curls to tumble with the motion, and reluctantly, after a couple of long, long seconds, he finally let go of Phil's shirt. A sly smile then crept across his face, a spark in his eyes that made Phil's heart skip a beat. Despite his temptation to keep the stranger with him for even just a bit longer, Phil grudgingly let him leave. 

With a final glance, the stranger turned on his heels and strode out of the pub, disappearing into the night.