#there was a fire in my county today and i could smell it from the window :

[mrsparrasblog]

SAUNA SOAP🌞

You hated your job. Working in the SPA of a 5-star hotel was not as luxurious as people made it out to be. The therapist got tipped while you needed to do the infusions, clean around the mess the guests left, deal with touchy customers, and worst of all, tell guests all over again that they can't fuck in the sauna, pool, or whatever. Well, at least you got paid 1pound above the minimum wage.

So you spent another day standing at the front desk of the SPA and trying to look useful. Nothing ordinary happened until a handsome Adonis walked into the spa. Fuck, he came up the elevator wearing only a towel around his hips, not hiding his perfect sculpted abs; he looked like an Adonis; his biceps was probably bigger than your head; and you looked up to see his beautiful face. His face had some badass scars, wrinkles, and the most gorgeous set of eyes you ever saw in your life.

"Good morning, sir. How can I help you today?" you said, trying to hide your enormous blush from him. You were used to naked people in front of you, but this man was different; he made your legs press together behind the corner, like a horney slut.

"Awright bonny, a'm 'ere fur th' sauna cuid ye shaw me th' wey" You hated yourself for not understanding him, but his voice was already the cause of your wet dreams for the next few months.

"I'm not called Bonny" was the only response you could gather to say and point to your nametag.

He chuckled, "Sorry, lass, I'm used to people understanding my accent. Could you show me the way to the sauna, please?"

"Of course, sir, please follow me." You walked out behind your reception, guiding him the way through the almost empty SPA.

"No need to call me, sir; I'm not much older than you," he said, throwing you a cheeky smile.

"We're here" He went into the sauna and thanked you. And you hated yourself for not being able to flirt with this man. This was a one-time chance to meet a man who was able to be on the new season of the bachelor of your county, and you failed.

After a few hours, you prepared an infusion smelling like amber and peppermint, so you went to the sauna. To your disappointment, your new customer crush wasn't there. You started with your usual show, throwing towels around and then leaving the sauna. Leaning against a wall, panting after being in the 90-degree sauna.

And there it was again, a man approaching you without a towel wrapped around his hips as if it weren't common courtesy to hide your own, oh god, erect cock. You tried your hardest to look into his eyes, but that ugly dick of his was like a car accident earthquake and a fire at the same time.

"If it's too hot for you, I wouldn't mind seeing you less clothed; you must be sweating in this tight and long uniform," he said, tucking your hair behind your ears.

You were more than disgusted by this behavior, but it was nothing new for you. "Sir, I feel uncomfortable with this situation."

"Come on, little bird, you girls take these things so seriously. I was just flirting a bit."

"And I want you to stop flirting," you said, sounding confident and not showing an ounce of your fear. You knew there wasn't much staff around anymore.

"Come on, Birdy, I paid so much for my stay; there should be something in it for me." He started to put his hand on your hips, pulling you closer to him. You were so ready to fight him off, but before your knee could make contact with his crotch, the Adonis men was behind you, towering over you.

"She said no, you better leave now or I'll help you leave bastard." You fell behind in his massive frame after the man pulled away from your hip.

"Sorry, mate," he said, walking out of the spa to his hotel room with a hint of embarrassment. Asshole was afraid of Adonis.

You turned around to face him, blushing at how close you were. "Thank you, sir."

"No problem, lass, call me Johnny, not this Sir nonsense," he smirked at you, and you felt like you melted on the ground immediately.

"Okay, thank you, Johnny. You can have a drink on the house; just grab something from the bar." This would be the least you could do.

"When urr ye off, a'm waantin' tae keep edgy fur ye nae that that bastard comes back." You felt the butterflies in your stomach when he said he wanted to protect you.

"Johnny I'm a big girl; you don't need to ruin your vacation by looking out for a stranger."

"Beautiful stranger." You blushed at his compliment and thanked him. You worked for the next three hours and then started to clean everything so you could close. When you locked the door, only you and Johnny were there. You approached him, but he still sat in the sauna. His marvelous body was glistering with sweat, just like his weird but funny hair. You noticed how he sat there with his legs wide open without a towel, so you had a perfect view of his manhood.

"Aye, sorry, I didn't notice ye" he said, hiding his manhood from you.

"Don't worry, I see them every day."

"Och, ye dinnae ken how tae flatter a lad," he said, acting fake hurt, which gifted him a slight chuckle from you. "Ye kin at least admit a'm a het lad."

"You're a hot lad, Johnny. Happy?" Your eyes wandered down his abs.

"Take a picture; it lasts longer."

"Uhm, sorry, I just think you're very handsome. I like your biceps."

"Do you want to touch it, hen?"

You nodded, slightly embarrassed; this is still your workplace after all.

Johnny's breath hitched slightly as you touched him, his muscles tensing. "Feel that, sweetheart? That's pure Scottish strength. It's also quite sensitive... If you know how to handle it properly."

"You work out a lot?" You asked already knowing the answer.

Smirking, Johnny leaned in close, whispering in your ear. His stubbles touched your neck as he did this.

"Aye, lassie. I work out every chance I get. And believe me, it's more than just to maintain my looks." Soap grinned, flexing his bicep slightly for you. "Feel that again, lass. You can't deny the pure muscle you're touching. And don't even get me started on these abs. I've been told they're quite impressive." He was pretty arrogant, but you couldn't deny that he was allowed to be arrogant after looking like this.

"They are. I'm sorry I'm acting unprofessional." You remembered your minimum wage job.

Johnny chuckled, shaking his head slightly. "Oh, don't apologize, hen. Unprofessional behavior can be quite endearing. Besides, I'm not one to judge." He leaned in close, his voice barely above a whisper.

As your gaze dropped lower to his prominent V line and his thick happy trail, Soap caught the subtle hint of curiosity in your eyes. Leaning back slightly, he ran his free hand teasingly over his toned abs before continuing. "You seem quite interested in this area, don't ya?"

You blushed immediately. "I'm so sorry."

Johnny chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Sorry for what? For being a horny wee lassie? There's nothing wrong with that." He reached down, his fingers tracing the outline of his hardened member through his towel. "See this?"

"Oh, Johnny," it was thicker than anything you had in your life and will have.

With a devilish grin, Soap pressed his thick shaft against your stomach, causing you to gasp. "Want a taste?" he asked softly.

"I work in this Spa and you are a customer Johnny I can't just blow you in the Sauna"

Johnny chuckled again, pulling his cock back from you. "Didn't say you had to blow me?" he replied with a wink. "Though I wouldn't mind that." You couldn't stop laughing at his comment.

Soap smirked at your laughter, taking it as a good sign. "Listen, hen," he started, his voice now low and rough with desire. "I've had my fair share of women throwing themselves at me, but you're not throwing yourself at me. You subtle, I like that, and I never had sex in a sauna, and you're one hell of a looker, the most beautiful girl I've seen in ages."

"I never had sex in a sauna too."

"So" He unwrapped the towel around his waist, making sure you got a good look at his hard cock pointing at you. "How about we fuck in the sauna?"

"That's pretty forward, Johnny."

He chuckled warmly at your comment. "Aye, lass, I'm forward when I want something," he replied confidently, taking a step closer to you. "And I really want this."

As you watched in anticipation, Soap slowly unbuttoned your uniform, revealing more of your delectable body with each button that flew open. His eyes roamed hungrily over your curves, taking in every detail. "Yer sae bonny"

Once your pants were off, Soap gently pushed you onto the bench in the sauna, his eyes locked onto your clothed sex. He took one of his thick fingers and started to circle your clit with it. You couldn't help but moan; he was doing it better than any man before. He didn't treat you like a scratcher; he knew what he did, which made you feel insecure. Of course, men like him would have more experience than you do.

"You look and sound like an angel; can I—my little man can't wait any longer?" You laughed at his words and just nodded.

He positioned himself between your legs, rubbing the head of his cock against your entrance before slowly pushing inside.

"God, that's fast." You whined as he split you in half with his thick cock.

Johnny grunted in pleasure as he felt you tighten around him. "Fuck, lass," he groaned, starting to thrust slowly inside of you. His hands found their way to your tits, squeezing them roughly as he took his time fucking you.

Johnny picked up the pace, slamming his hips against yours as he fucked you hard in the sauna. The sound of your flesh slapping together filled the small room, echoing off the walls.

His cock throbbed inside of you, reaching deeper with each thrust. Your body glistened with sweat in the hot sauna. Johnny growled low in his throat, his face contorting with pleasure as he continued to pound into you. Sweat dripped from his body onto yours.

"Fuck, you're so tight." You scratched his back, gripping hard on his biceps. You needed to hold back and not cum too fast so you couldn't embarrass yourself in front of him.

Johnny hissed in pleasure at the scratches down his back, leaning into the bite and scratch marks on his neck as he felt you grip his biceps. His hips picked up speed, slamming harder into you as he reached around to pinch and twist your nipples.

Feeling you close to orgasm, Johnny moved a hand between your legs, rubbing your clit firmly as he continued to pound into you. His fingers circled your swollen bud, teasing it until you cried out incoherently. "Johnny"

Johnny groaned, feeling himself getting closer as well. He picked up the pace even more, slamming into you harder as he leaned forward to capture one of your nipples in his mouth, sucking and biting gently.

He growled low in his throat as you wrapped your legs around him, taking him deeper inside of you. He moaned into your skin, his teeth grazing lightly as he nipped at your other nipple. "Fuck," he panted, "I'm going to cum."

"Mhm, you can cum inside; I'm on the pill." It was foolish of you to let a stranger cum inside of you, but you were too fucked out to properly think.

Hearing your enthusiastic agreement, Johnny let out a groan of relief as he felt his climax building. With one last hard thrust, he erupted inside of you, his cock pulsing as he shot his hot cum deep inside your wet cunt.

Johnny panted, his heart racing, as he leaned down to kiss your full lips. "That," he whispered against your lips, "was fucking incredible." He pulled out of you slowly, his still-hard cock slipping out of your pussy with a wet pop.

"I usually don't do things like this with strangers, I swear." This was your first nightstand and even in your workplace. What must he think of you?

"Well, I'm glad you made an exception for me." Johnny grinned, his eyes twinkling with mischief. He reached down to stroke his cock a few times, getting it slick with his own precum before pressing the head against your entrance again. "Ready for round two?" This man must be joking, right?

"Another one?"

"You bet your sweet ass I am," Johnny growled, pushing his thick cock back inside of you in one swift motion. He slid in completely this time, his hips meeting yours as he began to thrust into you again, harder and faster than before.

You needed to regain power so you wouldn't come immediately "Mhm, fuck, let me be on top."

"You got it," Johnny grunted, pulling out of you so that you could mount him. He helped guide your hips as you positioned yourself on top of him, his hands sliding down to grab your ass and pull you closer.

You bounced on his dick with so much passion and enthusiasm as he had never seen in a woman; you were so eager to please him and so eager to sleep with him. You weren't like this usual starfish woman; you were perfect.

Johnny moaned, loving the feeling of your wet pussy slamming against his cock as you rode him with all your might. His hands gripped your hips tightly, guiding your movements as he watched you in awe. "Fuck me, woman. "Yeah, I'm definitely feeling that." Johnny groaned out, his body arching off the ground as you continued to ride him. He reached up to grab one of your tits, squeezing it gently before rolling the nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

"A Boob Guy, huh?"

"Well, I'm a man," Johnny chuckled, running his free hand down your back to your ass before squeezing it. "And I definitely appreciate a nice pair of tits." He nipped at your earlobe before biting gently, making you moan loudly. With every movement of your hips, his veiny cock hit your Gspot perfectly, making you whine and moan in pleasure.

"Johnny, I'm close."

He growled, "Come for me then, lass." He held onto your hips, his cock throbbing inside you as he felt you getting closer. Just as you started to tense up, he thrust up into you hard, feeling your pussy clenching around him, milking him as you came undone.

He continued to thrust into you until he couldn't hold back any longer, his cock erupting inside of you with his hot and sticky cum.

Johnny leaned his forehead against yours, his breathing ragged as he held you close. "One hell of a fuck, wasn't it?" he asked with a smirk.

"Yes," you stated monotonously. You screwed up your chance of dating this guy by simply fucking him the first time you saw him.

Johnny chuckled softly before kissing your neck, nibbling gently. "Now then, what's got you all wound up?" He asked curiously, running his hands down your back and ass.

"Was this a one-night thing, or could I get your number? Oh god, it's embarrassing. I never had sex with a random man, and now I'm asking for your number. I'm stupid." You started to ramble while looking into his beautiful eyes.

Johnny smiled at you, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "A one-night thing? Hardly." He said it teasingly, tracing a finger down your cheek. "I'm not the kind of man who gives up so easily once he has a taste."

"So?"

"So, how about we exchange numbers?" Johnny suggested with a grin. "I mean, unless you're afraid, I might call you at all hours of the night."

"I'll give you my number."

He raised an eyebrow in surprise but quickly took out his phone to enter your number. "Alright then, pretty girl." He said, pressing the buttons on his phone. "You've got mine too. Don't forget it." He gave you some sloppy kisses and helped you put on your clothes again.

Before he left, you screamed to him. "Call me."

"I will," he assured you with a wink, and he left the spa on his way to his hotel room.

A moment later, your phone rang, and you answered. "Hello?"

"I promised to call you, Mo leannan

[odinsblog]

“How do you enjoy life as the world burns? When the planet is on fire, and the country is falling apart, and the cops shoot another teenager, and half your neighbors are getting evicted or deported, and Bill Maher is still speaking out loud on television, what do you do? I go to the water park with my nephew Miles.

Miles is 12 years old. He is a brilliant, bow-legged troublemaker. I love him despite the fact that he's 12 and still has a rat tail. It's really not that cute anymore, dude. We're not related by blood, but Miles' dad, Kevin, is like a brother to me. So Miles calls me Uncle Josh.

Uncle Josh, when are we going to the Warriors game? Uncle Josh, will you show me how to open that car with a hanger again? Uncle Josh, Uncle Josh, since I'm half Black and half Asian, does that make me Blazian? No, Miles, that makes you Oakland.

It's August, and it's hot, which for the Bay Area, means anything above 67. Today, it's 91. I'm over at Kevin and Miles' place, sitting in no AC, in our tank tops and boxers, watching Key and Peele.

I say, guys, we gotta go somewhere to cool off. Cooler than the movie theater, cooler than the mall, I'm gonna take us to East Bay's water world. Miles' face lights up. But then Kevin says, I don't know you guys. I mean, those water parks, you know, they're so wasteful.

My man Kevin is the worst kind of Bay Area environmentalist. He's that type of dude who will come over your house and use the bathroom, not flush, but instead write a note on your toilet paper telling you how much water he just saved you. That's a true story.

I say, Kevin, it's so hot out here, I could fry an egg on your face, which I will if we don't go to East Bay Water World. Miles says, please dad. I say, please dad.

Kevin says, fine. Go have fun at the park, but take my car. It's a hybrid.

I grab the keys and soon me and Miles are driving through Oakland. We pass by the Trilingual Liquor Store, the farmer's market that accepts food stamps and we make our way through the tunnel and the hills. We emerge on the other side in the valley.

The further we get from the coast, the ground is drier and drier, browner and browner. The only green is the manicured lawns of the suburbs, the golf courses, the empty field of the sprawling county jail. And then we see it and we arrive at our Mecca, our oasis in the California desert, East Bay Water World. And it's even more beautiful than I imagined. There's four wave pools, there's a 50-foot water park, the air smells like chlorine and sunscreen and funnel cake. Delicious.

Miles' mouth is wide, staring at all these things he's never seen before. Carnival games, Dippin Dots, girls in bikinis, Uncle Josh, this place is awesome. I know, Miles. I know.

We go and we jump in the wave pool, we float down the lazy river, we spin through the whitewater rapids until we're totally drenched, grinning ear to ear and surprisingly thirsty. So I go to the funnel cake vendor for something to drink.

Can I get a bottle of water, please? He says, no problem. That'll be $7. $7 for a bottle of water? He looks at the bottle. It says, and he literally read off the bottle, it says this here is bottled and purified up near Lake Tahoe.

This is California water. California water. I buy two bottles and walk back to where Miles is pointing up towards the sky. I follow his gaze and then I see it. There, staring down at us from the tallest point in the park is the biggest water slide I've ever seen. The tallest slide in Northern California, the Annihilator.

The Annihilator is a seven-story, 80-foot freefall drop down all in just under five seconds. It's one of those slides that's so vertical, your back comes off the ride when you go down, so you feel like if you lean over just a little bit, you're done. It's the type of slide that's illegal in 27 states and most of the European Union, but hey, this is California.

I look and see Miles. His mouth is watering in anticipation. We go and get in line.

Now, the worst part of the Annihilator isn't the ride down. That's only five seconds. The worst part is the 30-minute wait in line, standing in the stairs watching and hearing every kid go down the slide, hearing every scream, every shriek, every, oh, sweet baby, Purple Jesus. The That's a direct quote from a nine-year-old. Shout out to Purple Jesus.

Miles is nervous. His hand is clenching the railing. Uncle Josh, is this thing safe?

Before I can answer, I hear a voice shouting from the top of the stairs, Hands up! Put your hands up!

Hands up!

It's the lifeguard, a tall white teenager in red shorts. He's yelling at the girl about to go down the slide. I'm telling you, it's way more fun if you put your hands up.

And the words hit me like a tsunami. It's August, two weeks after Ferguson, after Mike Brown. After those words, hands up became the calling cry for a movement.

In Missouri, people are putting their hands up to protest the police murdering another black boy in America. In California, I'm watching kids put their hands up as they go down a water slide called the Annihilator, and my nephew asks me if it's safe here. It's August in America.

In Detroit, they're shutting off poor people's water. California is suffocating of thirst. Half of my friends are putting buckets of ice over their faces on Facebook. Israel is bombing water treatment plants in Gaza, and in America, we have water parks in the desert. Industrial Almond Farms in the desert, prisons in the desert, my family, me and my nephew right here in the desert looking for anything that could be called an oasis. And Miles asked me if it's safe here.

What am I supposed to tell him?

I don't want to lie to my nephew. I want him to know that yes, some people will always see him as a threat, but I also want him to laugh and play and go get on this crazy ass waterslide.

How do you enjoy life as the world is burning? How do you teach your nephew to hate the park but love the ride? The thing is called the Annihilator. I think it might be trying to tell us something.

And now we're next in line. A girl with blonde pigtails is shaking her head. The lifeguard says, it's okay, you don't have to do it.

She backs away and now Miles is up.

He steps to the edge of the slide, puts his feet in the rushing water.

I can see the brown hills in the distance, Oakland and all its beautiful contradictions waiting on the other side. I wave at Miles, say, you got this. You got this, dude.

And he waves back at me, and when he does, he lets go of the railing. His hand shoots up in the air and the rushing water carries him away. He lets go. He shoots out and disappears over the edge. My nephew!

I rush to the side and look over, and there's Miles at the bottom of the slide, safe and alive and pulling up his bathing suit. He jumps up and runs to get back in line, and the cycle continues. Water, blood, life, death, and maybe rebirth.

I'm still on the top platform of the slide.

I walk to the edge, look down at California, lift my hands, and let go.”

—Mr. Josh Healey

[xmissrogersx]

“Video Games” | Joel Miller

tags: Post-Outbreak. Jackson life. Domesticity. Fluff. Ellie being the cutest daughter.

my writing is entirely my own. Any adaptation and/or copy is forbidden.

i hope you are enjoying my stories! U help me a lot if you give me a ♡! All the love.

pris masterlist

A summer day was passing through the small community of Jackson. The trees provided a pleasant breeze that urged the children to play in the streets before going to school; and the flowers in the windows of the houses provided colors that made them forget the darkness of the outside world.

-That's all for today, honey —Maria peeked down the hallway.

-Are you sure you don't need me? I can stay and help you.

-Of course not, you covered a lot of time when I had to take care of my neglectful husband —she exclaimed, making us both laugh.

I grabbed my bag and walked out of the cozy little library and walk to home. Home. After so many years, i have a home to come back. I crossed the only street to see him at the end of the driveway, sitting on the front porch playing his guitar next to Ellie.

-Paris! Look... —she played a few light chords, causing Joel to look up with fatherly pride.

-I knew you'd make it.

-I have to go tell Lily —she got up and walked out as if his life depended on it, but came back to give me a brief but tender hug.

-Thank you for helping me with my literature homework, I wouldn't have understood a shit what the author was saying if it wasn't for you —and before I could answer she ran back to her friend's house.

Excitement was getting the better of me again as I tried to keep my eyes from watering. I turned to see Joel with his gaze locked on me, which was getting darker as his brown orbs swept over me. I bit my lower lip in provocation.

-Come here, angel —he patted his thigh and extended his hand.

Taking refuge in his strong arms, smelling his pine scent mixed with the slight hint of scotch, as I snuggled into his chest was the definition of what I enjoyed most about my day.

-How was work? —he asked, stroking my leg, lifting the fabric of my dress slightly.

-Just me and a stack of books. I love it. I helped a couple of guys look for one...¡oh!, and one girl wanted to read a story about friendship and adventure. Please Joel tell me if I'm talking too fast —I covered my face in embarrassment.

His laughter echoed in my ears, sending a shock through my body. Every time he laughed I recorded his melody in my mind.

-I could never get tired of listening to you, darlin’. And what book did you recommend her?

-Little Women. I remember when I was little I managed to smuggle it out of the QZ zone. It helped me forget about all the crap outside for a while. I'd pretend I was one of the March sisters, and I'd play Pilgrims and decorate the house for the holidays.

-You can do it now —I cocked an eyebrow at her response.-Ellie would like it. She loves everything you do together, and Maria could help you with the costumes.

I reached up to his face to place a kiss on his chin, cheek and forehead, and then our lips met. I wanted him to know that I adored how he protected and adored me day by day. And that I was his, today and always.

-Joel Miller, you old softie —I said, earning a pinch on my thighs.

-Do you want to know what you're doing to this old man by wearing that dress?

My lungs had run out of air in a second, despite the rushing wind. That's what Joel was doing to me. I nodded slightly, playing along. I put my legs on either side of his lap, and rested my hands on his chest.

I unbuttoned his shirt, and caressed the scars that adorned his torso, kissing them one by one, as I lowered my hand to the buckle of his pants.

-You're playing with fire, princess —he moaned softly, making me feel powerful as I saw the effect I was having on him.

The county had gathered in the movie theater, leaving the place empty. What an excellent coincidence.

[neon-pink-leitner]

Here's how I almost got sucked into a cult through homemaking and how Cyberpunk saved me

I have the time and the spoons today so I want to talk about this. This is prolly going to be a very long post but I feel like its important to talk about this.

Let me start with my mental state around 2020 or so. I was in a bad place.

I found out that my brother had been the one to publicly deface my home a few months back. This, on its own, trigger massive anxiety and paranoid episodes for me that I still struggle with badly today. A few weeks before I found out, someone falsely called Social Services on me. This would be the second time I got a false call(the first one had nothing to do with my brother and the person not admitted they were wrong but left the entire fucking county). The social service call happened while my MIL was in the hospital from a stroke. I was in an extremely dark place. The world was against me and now I had proof. I felt that the cars that drove by my house were watching me. I still have days where I'm convinced my neighbors are out to get me(they are not). I didn't know what to do. I looked into therapy but couldn't afford it. I learned that my brother was making fun of me behind my back. For my clothes, my home even my religion. My mindset was:If someone who is supposed to protect me, someone who is my family will treat me like this, then what will the rest of the world do to me? I was scared, I was angry, I was vulnerable. I felt I had no community anywhere and I didn't speak to most of my friends for a year.

I threw myself into my house. Trying to manically make it perfect. I found the term "homemaking" and started joining groups, following pages. Here was a group of people who understood me! The world was against them too! It was taboo and different for a woman to stay at home instead of working. The world was against me too! I had the proof! And somehow, I felt home. I didn't notice the roof was on fire, I couldn't smell the smoke, I was just happy to be in a living room. They too had been attacked by the world for being different, just like me! Shortly after, I found the term "tradwife" and while I didn't vibe with it, I was so deep that I couldn't see. These people just wanted to live their lives! Why would everyone attack them? So what if they were Christian? Maybe the supported trad-gender roles but I couldn't see past anything. I was part of a community that knew what it felt like to be alone and have the world against you.

I slowly stopped dressing in the goth/emo fashion I'd worn since 13. I was grown up now, and really, wasnt that for kids? I needed to be taken legit as a parent and a spouse I needed to make sure no one would ever hurt me again so I had to make myself small. Sure, they were submissive to their husbands but I was too! Maybe a different kind of submissive(wink, wink, nudge nudge locking necklace) but they understood submissiveness. I started wearing more dresses and for the first time in my life, I looked "normal" like everyone else.

This led me to more alt right accounts. Sure, they were extreme, and I didn't believe all the transphobic, homophobic and sexist stuff they posted but for the first time in my life, I ignored it. I spoke out if I felt strong that day but often, I kept following them because they understood me! They knew how it felt to be attacked like I had.

Then I fell deeper. I started to regret getting the COVID vaccine. What had I done to my body? What unknown spooky shit was in my veins? Maybe that was the reason my period was messed up and not the massive stress I was under. Maybe wearing mask indoors was bullshit? Why should anyone have a say over my body but me!!!111!!! After all, they understood me. I was a homemaker, like them. We all talked about how the world was against us, we were the rebels because the most outlaw thing we could do was make a dinner plate for our husbands afterall.

I took my they/them pronouns off my profiles. I started wondering if I really was bi. Me being bi didn't matter afterall because I'm with a cisgendered man. it wasn't important anymore. What was important was being a good woman, doing the best I could for my husband. I found community. I was happy. The house was on fire but I was high off the fumes. I didn't notice what was happening to me.

I decided I needed a new game to play. Figured it was high time I played Cyberpunk 2077 since I hadn't touched it since 2020. At this point it was early 2022. Something spoke to me in a way. I played as my V and fell in love with the game. I started thinking about how this was something my homemaking friends wouldn't like. My tumblr page was all about homemaking. But something about Cyberpunk made me look around.

I don't know what it was. The anti-corpo message, the beauty of Night City, Johnny Silverhand making me question if I am cis but suddenly, shit didn't add up. Why was I following these people who would hate me if I was married to woman? Why was I in groups who thought it was a woman's duty to be submissive to a man? Jesus fucking Christ what the fuck was I doing? This wasn't me. I didn't want to wear dresses all the time, they give me chub rub. Sure I'm submissive to my husband because its hot and gets me off and he's my Dom but I still have a voice. I started to look around and I figured out, that no one cared that I was a stay-at-home mom. The world wasn't against me. In fact, most people were fine with a woman staying home with her kid. That was all I could think as I drove around Night City: what the fuck was I doing??

I woke up one morning and found Roe V Wade was overturned.

All of these people screamed in victory because yay! Rights for the unborn....right? No. No not right. Then they turned against me. It didn't matter that medically it would be unsafe if I got pregnant. That was my purpose as a vagina owner. To be bred by my husband and not in the sexy role playing way and I should be honored to carry a child no matter how the fetus got into my body. Suddenly the living room I was sitting in, wasn't just on fire but being fueled by the people in it. Splashing gasoline and then calling it water.

One day, I broke. I left almost all of the homemaking groups I was in (the few I'm still in are very inclusive), I redid my tumblr page. I changed my URL to what it is now and made a short post about how I could no longer be part of the homemaking community and that it was time I started being "me" again. I joined the Cyberpunk fandom and started having fun again. I started writing.

I needed a new podcast and started listening to one simply called "Cults". Slowly, things fell into place. At first I kind of laughed at anyone foolish enough to believe that some white dude from Ohio was Jesus. But then I started listening. The ex-cult members spoke about how they were hurting, lonely, scared, angry and looking for community and something to believe in. And then I looked in the mirror. And I understood why they thought some white dude from Ohio was jesus. Because they were hurting the same way I had been and they just wanted to feel accepted, like me.

Now we are here. Its 2023. I've bleached my hair, I'm back to dressing like a Myspace reject because it makes me happy. I re-added my pronouns. And I crawled out of that burning house without making a sound. Well, now I'm screaming about it.

The trad community is a cult. The alt right is a cult. And it damn near sucked me in. Because I was bleeding and hurt and broken. But they never saved me. They just pushed me further into isolation. I'm still working on cleaning out my social profiles due to it. If you ever find an old post of mine that seems way out of it for me, let me know. I'm still cleaning the digital mess.

If you wish to judge me, hate me, unfollow me for this. Then that's okay. I'm ready for any hate I may get from this. But I need to be honest. Because this can happen to anyone. You are not too smart, too pretty or too whatever. Because I thought I was. And I wasn't. I was vulnerable. And someone where between Night City and black lipstick, I found my way out.

I don't know what to close this with other than this, to the Cyberpunk community, thank you.

[socially-awkward-skeleton]

Thanks @derelictheretic @adelaidedrubman and @natesofrellis for the tags!

I've tagged a fair few people in the last few days and my brain is still a fog so I'll leave the tags this time.

Today's the first day I've managed to crawl out of bed and feel partially human again so I figured I'd share some more of Kit's canon timeline stuff I've been working on (still very much a rough draft at this point):

She marched through the wooden swinging door of the bar, her boots crunching through the gravel parking lot. As she approached the vehicle, Boomer's head popped out of the window, his ears flopping as he barked happily at her arrival.

She pulled open the passenger side door and he tore out, his front paws climbing up her jeans as his tail swished frantically back and forth.

"Hey, bud. Did you miss me?" He gave a quick bark and started to sniff at the doggy bag in her hands. "Traitor. Showing your true colours now, huh?" She scratched the spot between his ears. "I'll forgive you. I've always been a sucker for puppy dog eyes."

She hopped up onto the hood of her jeep and climbed up onto the roof. Ripping open the bag, she pulled out the paper wrapped burger. It was hardly the healthiest thing subsisting on fast food but it would be quickly burned off when she was bound to get caught up in another firefight. Boomer was quick to follow the smell of fresh food and hopped up onto the warm metal hood of the vehicle, curling up, tail still happily drumming away.

She stared up at the YES sign above the Holland Valley. She hated that thing with a burning passion, everyday it sat there, mocking her. No matter how much life seemed to steadily be returning to normal in Fall’s End since she had liberated them from the clutches of the cult and one John Seed, that sign reminded her that the job wasn’t over. It had barely even begun. Somewhere, Joey and Staci were still being held prisoner by the Seeds. She could rest a little easier knowing that Earl was alive and well at the County Jail, but her friends weren’t getting off quite so easily.

She scanned through her radio channels, hoping to hear anything, any word at all on how the efforts went for the rest of the citizens of Hope County. Landing on a cry of help from Nick Rye. Mary May had told her about how quick John was to come down on her and Jerome, as well as Nick. Seen as pillars in their community, John came for their throats immediately like a rat backed into a corner. A quick way to sow the seeds of doubt in those who didn't believe was by ruining those who they looked to. It was cunning, but it lacked control in its execution. Something she was finding to be common in the way the Holland Valley Herald handled most things.

–

She pulled up outside the landing strip, surrounded by Peggie trucks. Climbing out of her vehicle she took the rifle from off her shoulder and crept up towards the hangar.

One man ran around like a chicken with his head cut off, trucker hat popping up and down in and out of cover, panicked by the men he was going up against. She picked off several men to clear herself a path to Nick and slid behind the crate he was currently taking cover behind.

“Holy shit, thank you. You’re the deputy folks have been talkin’ ‘bout, aren’t you?”

“Introductions later.”

Kit stood up and pulled a grenade from her belt and threw it over to where the trucks were parked, the explosion caused the whole ground to rumble. Fire quickly spread to barrels along the tree line that burst into flames and set several peggie soldiers alight. Their screams vastly overpowered the sounds of Nick’s radio playing from inside the hangar.

She kneeled back down behind the crate, placing her rifle on the ground beside her, fingers still wrapped around it in a white-knuckled grip. She closed her eyes and gritted her teeth, nails running down her jeans as she took several deep breaths, a shiver coursing down her spine. She squeezed her eyes so tightly that she could see blobs of red and orange swimming in the darkness behind her lids.

Just breathe, Kit. Breathe.

"Hey, are you okay?"

Kit opened her eyes and wiped at her nose with the back of her hand. Standing up with her rifle at the ready she took out several stragglers on the perimeter of the landing strip as bullets whizzed past her.

Bodies scattered the ground, blood soaking into the sand around them.

The pilot stared at her with eyes as big as dinner plates.

"Sure, why wouldn't I be?" She asked flatly.

He said nothing more on the matter but he knew the look, his grandpa used to shut down like that too. His dad had told him it was shell-shock, it happened to folks sometimes when they came back home from war.

[wavyhairedbabyy]

Idiots - Part 2

Karl Jacobs x gn!reader

tldr: They’ve both got a crush. Sucks, since they’re the only ones oblivious to it. (Slow Burn!)

CW: none, fluffy :))

a/n: Picnic portion was inspired by Sunflower by Rex Orange County :) Sorry it took so long! Major writers block on this but now I’m back :)))

edited yet?: yes - let me know if I missed anything!

Part 1 - Part 2

“So we agree, I’m Eve and you’re Wall-E?” y/n asked as the credits began to roll.

“I want to sit here and disagree with you just to spite you, but I can’t,” Karl responded, “I could 100% see you blasting someone for just walking funny on a bad day.”

“I’d blast you just for the hell of it,” Y/n jumped onto their feet raising their arms up in a big stretch after sitting for the movie.

“Bad choice,” Karl reached his arms to the side of their body, immediately tickling them. Y/n immediately screamed out his name, trying to move themselves out of his grasp. As soon as Karl noticed this, he grabbed their arm to pull them back on to the sofa.

“You’re... going... to... regret... this!” Y/n huffed out, thrashing against him. Karl’s giggles and their screams echoed around the house. It wasn’t until y/n mustered up all of their strength to push him of the couch for them to escape his clutches.

Y/n ran to the bathroom, quickly locking the door behind them. Karl quickly ran behind them only to have the door slammed in his face, “Aw, c’mon y/n, let me in.”

“After that stunt you pulled? In your dreams, Jacobs,” Y/n turned toward the sink, ignoring Karl’s attempts to unlock the door. The only thing on their mind was their night routine and then hitting the hay.

As y/n started the warm water, the door swung opened making them jump. At the door frame stood Karl with a quarter in his hand, “Next time you should check to see what kind of lock I have.”

“Whatever, smart ass,” y/n rolled their eyes playfully, reaching for their tooth brush. They brushed their teeth as Karl scrolled through his phone. After the flight, unpacking, and a night with Karl, y/n just wanted to head to bed. They couldn’t even imagine how Karl felt with all the Mr. Beast stuff. After rinsing their mouth they asked, “You goin’ to bed too?”

Karl shook his head, “Nah, I’m going to stream for an hour or two. Nick and Alex want to practice for this Minecraft Championship thing so I’m gonna root them all while also roasting the crap out of them.”

Y/n should’ve known, especially with the mountains of energy drinks in his fridge. The man probably never sleeps, “Well you enjoy that. I’m knocking out for the night.”

Karl nodded. “I figured. You and you grandma schedule,” he giggled, resulting in a pout from them.

“You say that as if dealing with sleep deprived me isn’t one of the worst things in the world.”

“I mean, you got me there,” he shrugged. He walked over to them, wrapping his arms around them tightly, “Goodnight. Knock on my door if you need anything at anytime, okay?”

Y/n nodded, hugging back just as tightly. They wished this could last together. His smell was comforting, reminding her of happiness and serenity. His hold made them feel safe, like nothing could hurt them as long as he was there. The feeling ended too quickly as he pulled away, giving them one last smile before heading off to his stream room.

Y/n looked at themselves in the mirror, huffing to themselves. Going from not seeing Karl for over a year to all Karl all the time felt like sensory overload. The butterflies, the emotions, their head racing with thoughts that they shouldn’t have for someone who is just their best friend - it was a lot.

This was going to be a long week.

***

Y/n woke up to the sun’s rays gleaming through the blinds. Looking at their phone, they saw that it was 9AM. Juggling between the staying in bed and getting up, y/n decided that getting up was the better option. The last thing they wanted to do was go back to bed and mess up their “grandma schedule,” as Karl would call it.

Moving out of the bed, they reached their limbs as far as they could stretch them. After picking their outfit, they journeyed to the bathroom to get their morning started. On the way over, they peeked into Karl’s room and saw him still asleep. They had no idea when he had gone to bed so they shut the door quietly, making their way to the bathroom once again.

As they were brushing their teeth, y/n realized it was the day they were going to the warehouse for a Mr. Beast video. They knew they weren’t going to be filmed, but the nerves were still there. They had met Chris, which was helpful, but not Jimmy yet. What if they messed up a shot? Or messed up any equipment? Not touching anything while they were there seemed like a fool proof idea.

Y/n finished up their morning routine as they kept thinking of ways to not fuck anything up. Making their way to the kitchen, they knew the one thing that could - somewhat - calm their nerves: coffee.

Y/n happily found a jar of instant coffee. Not the best, but it’ll do. Upon unscrewing the jar, they noticed it a plastic film seal up which confirmed that it was brand new. Did Karl get this just because he knew they were coming? They couldn’t recall him ever drinking caffeine that wasn’t from an energy drink. Y/n didn’t know, but the idea of it made their heart melt.

***

Once Karl woke up, he and y/n made a quick breakfast together made their way over to the warehouse.

“I don’t know why, but I’m really nervous. I don’t even know what I’m nervous about. I know it’s going to be fine, but.... I don’t know,” y/n expressed on the drive there. It was a brand new experience and they didn’t know what to expect. They’ve never been on a set of any kind let alone one for someone as well known as Mr. Beast.

“Hey, you’ll be okay. I know it can feel overwhelming, especially for your first time. I’ll be there if you need anything,” Karl comforted them through their nerves. He held their hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, “If you ever need a minute, don’t wait to ask. Just take it.”

Y/n smiled at him. He was always great at making sure they were comfortable wherever they went. While the nerves were still there, they felt a lot better knowing Karl was available, even among the chaos that may ensue.

***

The day at the warehouse went really well. Y/n’s nerves went away about an hour in, but that didn’t stop Karl from checking every now and then. Y/n was grateful that they respected them not wanting to be filmed, especially when they started filming a Fear Factor like video with snakes, cockroaches, and tarantulas. With all the creatures around, it didn’t take long for them to grab one of the smaller boa constrictors and start chasing Karl around with it.

“Y/N! STOP! WHAT DID I EVER DO TO YOU?” Karl screeched, running away from them.

“REMEMBER THAT TICKLE ATTACK FROM LAST NIGHT? TOLD YOU YOU WOULD REGRET IT!” Y/n yelled back. They were laughing the entire time while Karl continued his screaming. Their fun chasing Karl was cut short when snake man had to start packing away his animals.

At some point during the day, y/n had taken a step outside for a social break. Chris took this time to continue the conversation he and Karl had in the car. Walking over to his friend, he asked, “So have you told them yet?”

Karl looked around to ensure you hadn’t come back or were around before responding, “No, I’m going to wait until right before they leave. I’m scared that I’ll tell them and it’ll ruin the week.”

Chris looked at Karl, absolutely dumbfounded, “Dude, I can’t believe the two of you. And you two acted the way you did today in college too?”

“I mean, yeah. We’re best friends. What’s wrong with how we’re acting?” Karl gave him a confused look.

“Nothing but it’s so painfully obvious y’all are into each other. I didn’t pick it up yesterday, but y/n is totally into you too, man,” Chris explained, “Even Chandler was able to pick it up. He thought I was kidding when I said you two weren’t a low-key thing. Please do both of yourselves a favor and just tell them.”

This conversation ran through Karl’s head the rest of the day. Did y/n really like him back? The thought of that made his stomach do flips. He became hyper aware of all y/n’s actions and they suddenly meant more to him. When they high-fived, he felt his hand on fire when they weaved their fingers with his. He was more aware of their body on his when they hugged, butterflies flying through his stomach when they gave him a squeeze.

The drive home was spent by y/n non-stop talking about how much of a great day they had right after a heated debate on where they would be picking up dinner. They were too tired to even thinking about cheffing up a meal. What y/n didn’t know was the nerves hidden underneath Karl’s semi-cool exterior on how he planned on confessing his feelings. Luckily, “semi-cool” was his middle name.

The two had stopped at the Asian fusion place they decided to pick up food from. As they got into the car, Karl’s eyes lit up as he came up with an idea for dinner and turned to y/n.

Y/n, noticing this, furrowed their brows and said, “You either have a really good idea or a really dumb idea, and I think you’re going to tell me whether I want to hear it or not.”

“You are absolutely right!” Karl giggled, “Anyways, to keep it short and simple, picnic in the park? I have a blanket and we can pick up some ice cream or something.”

“That... actually is a great idea! I’m starting a playlist now and I’ll share it with you. How does ‘stupidly great vibes’ sound?”

“Sounds perfect.”

***

The two sat on a hill in a nearby park, digging into their dinner with the last minute playlist y/n had come up with playing in the background. The bottom of the sun was barely touching the horizon, getting ready to set and give the sky to the moon for the night.

The comfortable silence they had was one of their favorite things about their relationship. Neither of them ever felt pressure to fill the emptiness. Just being in each other’s company was entertaining and pleasing for both of them. They just watched their surroundings, while enjoying their food and each other’s presence.

After they clean up, the silence continued. They sat shoulder to shoulder, enjoying the moment they were in. They both would steal side glances at each other without the other noticing. Moving to lean their head on Karl’s shoulder, Y/n was looking at the sunset but their thoughts were swarmed with him and the last day and a half. They loved how he always made sure they were comfortable and welcomed in any setting. They loved they way his voices would crack during a fit of giggles. Just one day with him had their mind swirling in a pool of just him. His touch, his smell, his voice. They felt like they were in a trance with him.

Being with them, Karl realized how much happier he was with them there. He realized how much giddier he was waking up, how his mood had been uplifted with just their presence. He loved how headstrong they were, but never so much to the point that it hurt other people. He loved the way they could up his self esteem in the matter of a few minutes. The more and more he thought about it, the more he realized he loved them. He loved them more than just a best friend. He’s had for a handful of years. He wanted more than just the title “best friend.”

The two sat there, both individually coming to the realization that they have been falling in love with the other over the last few years. Neither caught onto each other’s hints while every outsider saw the love for one another other bloom.

Karl turned his head, spotting a small white daisy in the grass next to their blanket. He leaned over to grab it which forced y/n to lift their head from where it was, their eyes watching for what he was reach for. Plucking it from the grass, he leaned back and gave it to y/n.

“For you,” he practically whispered with the goofiest grin on his face. Y/n took the flower from his hand, returning his smile.

“Aw, thanks Karl.”

They locked eyes immediately after. Any plans Karl had in his mind on confessing to y/n immediately got thrown out the window, the hours of thinking gone to waste. In that moment, he blurted out the only words he could make sense of in that instant, “y/n... I think I’m in love with you.”

Y/n froze, trying to wrap the words he said around their head. They for sure thought they were awake but after his confession, they couldn’t be sure if they were in a dream or not. Their mind was reeling, making the task of forming a sentence that made sense a difficult one.

At the same time, Karl was giving himself a mental face palm. He wanted to confess his feelings, but not to that level. His nerves were on high alert, already assuming the worst was yet to come. He had to save the friendship at the very least.

“I-I’m sorry. It wasn’t supposed to come out like that,” he rambled, “But - uh- I’ve had a crush on you for a while now and I never wanted to ruin the friendship but if you’re uncomfortable with that, that totally makes sense-”

As he kept talking, y/n began to collect their thoughts. They thought he looked so cute when he nervously rambled but they had to cut him off eventually, knowing his anxiety levels were through the roof.

“Karl,” As soon as he heard their voice, his rambling stopped and kept all eyes on them. He looked at them waiting for a response but receiving none. Instead y/n wrapped their arms around him, enveloping him in a warm hug, “I think I’m in love with you too.”

Karl felt his heart explode. Chris was right. He hugged them back just as, if not more, tight. Any nerves he had running threw his body were replaced with pure happiness. He didn’t need to hold anything back from them anymore.

Y/n pulled away from the hug, leaning their foreheads together, “Can I kiss you?”

Karl smiled, “Honestly, it’s all I’ve want since I made that shot into your coffee.”

Y/n gave Karl a bewildered look, “What? That long?” They exclaimed

“Yeah, but we have the rest of the week to talk about it.” Karl leaned in, pressing his lips gently against theirs, wrapping his hands around them to bring them closer. The kiss was gentle and sweet, as if they would be woken up from a dream if they were anything but that.

They pulled away from kiss, but remained in each other’s arms. They stayed silent and enjoyed each other’s presence and touch, each meaning much more than they had just a few moments earlier. All that was left in the park was the semicircle of the sun on the horizon, a bag of food scraps, and two idiots, dumbfounded at the love they had for each other.

***

If you liked this fic, check out my others:

Masterlist

[i-am-the-balancing-point]

Wip It UP

I was blessed by @sinfuels​ with a tag in this so here is what I’m currently working on:

(a sketch of our beloved @josephslittledeputy​‘s Dep Willa in an “A”U)

additionally I’m gonna post under the cut all of what I got of my Sharky fic so far. I have not been able to continue working on that, mostly because I don’t really know how to write the Sexy Time™ but I hope I can work through it in the future cuz it truly is what we deserve (and the actual reason I am writing that fic in the first place lmao).

also, not very much FC related tho: I am working on a piano cover of Lowell’s Bloodthirsty after @josephslittledeputy​ and I watched the movie of the same name together and we were both a little sad the full version of the song was not like the piano version presented in the movie. I just need to get a decent mic for recording but I cannot fudging decide on one bc I have no idea what I’d rly need

if you have recs for usb mics that are nice for recording singing, piano and stringed instruments for around (or even under!!!!) 100 Euros pls hit me up! like 70 bucks is even better

now to the Sharky fic:

Sporadic bursts of fiery clouds lit up the night. The air was hung with thick smoke smelling of burning plastic and the unmistakable stench of gasoline. The heat caressed not only the exposed skin on her face and hands but seeped through the layers of her clothes, despite standing quiet a few feet away from the pile of junk set ablaze in front of her. If it weren’t for it, she would have probably noticed that it was a particularly chilly night, despite it being August. Anger ate away at her insides like the flames were eating away at the scrap wood, old couch cushions, empty packaging and trashed lawn chairs she had previously assemble in front of the old school bus that sat in the middle of Moonflower Trailer Park. Rook grabbed another molotov and chucked it straight ahead, as if she could somehow attach all the frustration and hurt the past days had caused her to the liquid inside. Today had been particularly frustrating. She had been trying to find a way to free Marshal Burke from Faith’s capture, so far to no avail, which was already gnawing on her enough. Not even knowing _where_ to look for them she tried to keep herself busy by running missions for the resistance. It was mostly enough to make her feel like she was at least not a _complete_ waste of space but what had happened just hours before was making her doubt the value of everything they did to fight the cult once more. The hostages Tracey and Leon had taken her to to free from an outpost with, relied on them to get them out of the Peggies capture and to at least bring them to temporary safety. Not only had they failed them but the hostages and Leon had to pay for their ineptitude in completing this relatively simple task with their lives. Tracey and Rook barely made it out alive themselves, horrendously outnumbered by cult members and painfully underprepared for the additional backup the cultists had quickly called once fire was opened. If it weren’t for Tracey yanking her away from the young man Rook was desperately trying to somehow prevent from bleeding out right under her hands, she would have surely met the same fate as Leon. She barely even knew them but it was still painful to be so closely involved in the death of another human being and frustrating to feel so responsible for it (even though there was nothing she could have done to prevent it, really). They had tried to comfort them back at the Hope County Jail but Tracey was having none of it, quickly removing herself from the situation with few words and Rook went to deal with it in a similar fashion. It had been a while now that she sought out soltitude to process her feelings but mindless destruction paired with the heat seemed to be the only thing that could at least provide her with some distraction. She watched the bottle shatter on a log right at the center of the bonfire. The liquid spilling out causing the flames to rise up momentarily. “Yo, Deputy, if you carry on like that you’re gonna make me jizz my pants right here on the spot!” Rook spun around so fast she swore she should have pulled a muscle. How the hell did she not catch him coming closer? He wasn’t a particularly stealthy type. “Fuck! Sharky!” she exclaimed. “The hell you doing here?” A wide grin spanned across his face as he climbed up to her on top of the bus. “Couldn’t sleep. Decided to take my lady for a nightly spin instead.” He nodded to the Flamethrower in his hands. “Ya know, romance and all…” “Are you drunk?” Rookie chuckled softly. He spooked her with his sudden appearance and her insides still burned with the rage of the day but she _was_ happy to see him. “Not more than usual.” That idiot just wouldn’t stop smiling, would he? Rook playfully rolled her eyes, then turned to face the fire again. The next molotov went flying. “Not bad, Deputy.” Now Sharky started up his “Lady” and pointed it at the junk pile. “‘atta decent stack! Didn’t know ya were a fellow fire enthusiast yourself.” “Had a bad day”, rookie replied, facing him briefly to flash him a weak smile. It couldn’t be very convincing. “Is that right?” She sighed, grabbing yet another bottle, getting ready to throw. Too late she noticed that it was slippery from gasoline that had somehow spilled over the outer wall, sending it flying not into the burning pile but between it and her in front of the bus. The glass burst, fluid splattering away to all sides. Her throw had been so forceful that it sent part of its components back up to her with ease. Rook yelped as gasoline met her body. She expected fire to follow it and tear into her skin but nothing happened. Her eyes found Sharky’s. He stared at her. The grin was wiped from his face, replaced by a grimace that resembled a silent gasp. He had abruptly stopped firing his flamethrower. Rook remained frozen, afraid the smallest move would set her aflame somehow, still holding his gaze. Finally Sharky exclaimed “Shit, Rookie! I'll take care a this! Don’t make a move!”, practically launching the flamethrower away from him. He almost wiped her off her feet and somehow got her down from the bus. “Gotta get ya cleaned up before the only thing ya good for is s’mores. Trust me, shit’s dangerous!” He gently pushed her towards an ATV. Had he come up here with that? How did she not hear it? God, she was so stupid! Letting her guard down like that… She was literally playing with fire. Rook was hesitant but still let him. “We’ll get ya all cleaned up. Casa de Boshaw is right around el corner.” Sharky shuffled with his hoody now. She raised an eyebrow in confusion and promptly felt herself blushing faintly, when her gaze skimmed over the waistband of his boxers peeking out from his jeans. Thank God it was nighttime and the colour on her face probably didn’t show. He was strong, muscular (despite all the junk food Rook was sure he was living off). “Err- here”, he pulled the garment over her head. “for… protection. Until we can get ya into something less flammable, I mean, ya know.” She giggled as she pulled her arms up and through the sleeves, then mounted the quad bike behind him. “Hold on tight” he commanded, already accelerating. Having his exposed body so close in front of her made her hesitant to wrap her arms around him. Sharky was a goofy guy and always one to crack the most inappropriate jokes but she still did not want to overstep a line. Instead she grabbed onto the back of her seat as best as she could. They flew over every little bump in the road. He took turns so sharp Rook was now convinced she would not die going up in flames but rather after going airborne and breaking her neck in the subsequent crash. Thankfully his home was not far away and they arrived without either happening, despite some close calls. Rook followed Sharky inside where he gently pushed her towards the bathroom opposite of the front door. She was promptly greeted by the faint smell of more gasoline, gunpowder and old smoke. “Man, you wouldn’t have to do all that…”, she was suddenly embarrassed about the fuss she had caused. “It‘s not that bad, I just got a bit of that crap on me. I could have probably managed.” “Ya looked like a deer in the headlights over there, Deputy”, he snickered. “And the funny thing about gasoline is” he turned on the water in the shower “that it can go kaboom real quick, ya get me? My pawpaw lost half his nuts that way!” She rolled her eyes playfully once more. “Let the water run hot for a minute before ya get in. You’ll freeze ya tits off otherwise.” he called out out to her while leaving for a moment then entering back with a towel and some clothes he shoved into her arms. “I think ya got it from here.” Sharky left and closed the door behind him. With a sigh she set down what he had given her on the toilet lid and began to undress. He was as kind as he was chaotic, that was for sure and admittedly she was grateful for the distraction this whole thing provided, even though she was sure he was over-exaggerating the urgency of the situation. Then again she was also happy to finally have a proper shower and so much privacy. Something the communal washrooms in their resistance camp in jail simply did lack, despite their best efforts to at least hang up some bedsheets to serve as visual deviders. The water was already nice and warm when she entered the stream. All the grime of the days past came right off. Most of the gasoline had been caught by her clothes and the remains fortunately disappeared with some of scrubbing. She made a point to get out of the shower quickly after she was clean to not use up too much of her host’s water. The sweatpants Sharky had set out for her ironically had some small burn holes but the tank top – complete with testicle festival print, of course – he had given her was still comparatively new. Looking at herself in his outfit in the mirror elicited a huge dorky smile from her. Carefully Rook stepped out of the bathroom after cracking the window and into the kitchen where Sharky was moving some stuff around. “Go sit on the roof, I’ll be right there.” Skilfully she pulled herself up from the porch onto the metal panels. It appeared that sharky had expanded his living room up there. At least the many empty beer cans and liquor bottles told her so. She plopped herself down in the single lawn chair that stood on the roof. Her gaze wandered over the peaceful landscape in front of her. Before the cult the only thing you had to worry about out here were mountain lions. A few minutes after, a bowl appeared at the edge of the roof, followed by a blanket and finally Sharky himself, now back in a t-shirt. He pulled a cooler up next to her chair and sat down on it after handing her the bowl and a spoon. “Made ya a special Boshaw-Bowl of cereal to get ya back on track.” He winked. “Sharky, you can't just put clingfilm over a bowl so that you don't have to wash it after!" Rook could barely contain her laughter. "Why not? I ain’t washing dishes no more, it’s a real time saver”, he grinned. “Hey, it’s cold tonight, brought ya this.” Without even asking if she needed it he draped the blanked around her shoulders. A smirk danced across her face. “Thank you, Sharky” she said quietly, more to her cereal than to him. She could feel his eyes on her, his lips still painted with his signature grin. It was good to be assured there were still people in Hope County who cared for her despite every of her failures. They both sat there, looking at the stars that draped across the night sky. What time was it? She didn’t even know but she wished for that brief moment of piece to last a little longer before gunshots and battle cries would became her reality again. “Would it be alright if i held ya hand, Rookie?” Sharky asked after a while. If she had known any better she would have noticed his question to be mixed with a hint of shyness. This surprised her but she was not averse, threading her arm out from the blanket and under the chair’s armrest, lacing their fingers together. A content sigh escaped her lips. “Don’t ya go pulling stunts on me like that again” he jestly grumbled, squeezing her hand lightly. There were no words she could express her appreciation with. Touches without urgency or even violence were something she had almost forgotten. Just like silence that was not loaded with anticipation and electricity. “Sharky…” she pulled her fingers out from his and got up only to promptly settle down in his lap, wrapping the blanket around them both like a cape. Surprised he *something what’s the word again (slung?)* an arm around her waist to support her, his other hand resting on her legs. Rook pulled his face close and met his lips with hers, trying to put everything into the kiss she was not able to convey with words. By how he returned the kiss, the motions of his lips on hers, their tungues gebtly caressing and exploring one another, she was sure Sharky understood. Suddenly she could feel her heart pound so fast she was sure he could feel it thumping through her chest pressed to his. “Yo Deputy, I… er, I didn’t know ya had feelings for me like this.” He was facing her with the expression of a young labrador eyeing its favourite tennis ball. “Dreamed of this for a while now but, ya know, more like ya dream about some ladies on a poster in ya Dad’s garage. I-… Shit, ya look so pretty like his.” This charming idiot was too much for Rook. While grabbing his face, giggling, and pulling him in for another kiss she straddled him, completely forgetting he was only sitting on the cooler, tipping it right over which sent Sharky flying (?that the right word) backwards, Rook on top of him. “Woah there Shorty, careful! Ya gonna get my back all fucked over here.” They both laughed, the sound of it echoing over the landscape. “I know a better spot” He lifted her up, gently dropping himself from the roof, bringing them back into the house and sitting her on top of the kitchen counter. “Ohh Charlemagne” she cooed, grinning into yet another kiss. He peppered small pecks along the corner of her mouth, then trailed along her jaw and down her neck. Giggling, she wrapped her legs around him, while he sucked on the sensitive skin above her pulse, forming little love-marks as he went. Suddenly he stopped and looked at her with an expression she could only decipher when Rook felt a growing erection pressing against her thigh through his jeans. It was embarrassment that tainted his face as he meant to take a step back but was hindered by Rook’s crossed legs behind him. “I- er… sorry.” Rook marvelled at him with wide eyes. “What’s the matter?” “It’s just- you’re my buddy but you’re also so hot and smell nice and I just… I don’t wanna… I want you to want this.” he admitted bluntly. “I do!” she assured. “Sharky, I do. I am sure that I want this, right now. This is good!” His face lit up at her words like the molotovs had lit up the bonfire backs at the trailer park earlier. Rook squealed in excitement as he lifted her up once more, their lips locked, hands on her butt, carrying her down the hallway. Excitedly he threw her on the bed. It was bouncy and creaked a bit but withstood the impact. She bit her lip and smirked. The way he beamed with excitement was beyond adorable! „Aww, Shorty, ya lookin real sexy, in my clothes, ain’t gonna lie.“

[anthrofreshtodeath]

Untitled

Inspiration struck last night 👀 - putting this here so you can let me know if it's worth continuing/if you would want to read more of it. Super AU!

Jane cut the engine of her Ford Ranger just outside the tiny strip mall off of Sixth Street. It had been a splurge just after she got brought on as the head baseball coach of Empire High School, a treat for herself for finally getting a big-person job and generating some regular income. Her mother had convinced her to do it, actually, because Jane had been on the fence for months, waffling so many times that Angela piled her in the family Buick and dropped her off at the dealership. Find your own way home, Angela had said, and it better be in that brand new truck.

Now, Jane was thankful for the push, because southern California summers in her old Civic with the busted A/C were no fucking joke. They were still no joke now, but at least she could blast cold air on her face when needed. Like now: even at six thirty in the morning, temperatures climbed above eighty in early August, and she settled into the discomfort of an already damp back. At least her front still looked fresh. She glanced in the rearview mirror one last time before she got out, taking off her adjustable black cap with her school’s insignia and smoothing the tied-back black hair on top of her head. Presentable and believable: a baseball coach with a ponytail and a Nike dri-fit short sleeve windbreaker over her t-shirt.

She hopped out, satisfied enough to not be looking like a hooligan, and when she planted her turf shoes, she could tell the asphalt was already on fire. The boys were gonna be whiny as hell this afternoon. That made her grin just a little bit. She ambled up to the donut shop-slash-panaderia on the corner, straightening her posture when the door jingled and signalled her entry.

The short, middle-aged woman with her graying hair in a bun and an apron around her waist brightened when Jane approached the counter. “Buenos días, Coach Rizzoli,” she greeted with a smile and voice so cheery, she’d obviously been up for hours already. Probably baking as Jane finished weight-lifting in her backyard before the sun came up.

Jane smiled softly in return. “Buenos días, señora Gutierrez,” Jane said, deferential even though at nearly 5’11”, she must have been almost a foot taller than Mrs. Gutierrez. “Como está?” Short Spanish phrases sounded pretty darn good in her mouth, she had to admit, for all the Sicilian she heard growing up, and for being a product of Santa Ana. Spanish was more common than English in a lot of her friends’ homes growing up, so she caught on quick. At least enough to carry on a polite conversation, if needed.

“Bien, gracias. Tengo sus conchas aquí,” Mrs. Gutierrez asked as disappeared behind the counter to find what she was looking for, Jane’s order, reappearing with six pink donut boxes.

Jane opened her nostrils wide to take in the smell of flour, sugar, and a hint of cinnamon for the white conchas, her favorite. It was enough to feed a small army, which felt just about right for the staff meeting she had been tasked with supplying breakfast for. The first of the new school year. “Qué bueno,” she replied, not sure if she was referring to Mrs. Gutierrez’s overall well-being or the pan in the boxes. She pulled out her cash to pay, slipping her wallet in her back pocket, and in the seconds that it took her to do that, a single, piping-hot styrofoam cup of coffee appeared on the counter in front of her.

“Y un cafecito come le gusta,” said Mrs. Gutierrez with a wink and a smile. Occasionally, she did this, and it was her way of taking care of Jane, one of their family’s best customers.

Jane had learned not to refuse it. She just blushed and bowed her head a little bit, her lips pursed in a bashful smile. “Muchisimas gracias,” she said, taking a sip. Mrs. Gutierrez always left the cinnamon stick in it and added minimal creamer, just how Jane liked. Jane held back a moan. She decided she’d partake of the rest in the car, and then pocketed her change.  She picked the boxes up by the string tied to them and huffed, ready to begin the day. “Y el Jonny?” she asked, and Mrs. Gutierrez nodded her head towards the back of the bakery.

Jane nodded and made her way toward the door so she could pop around. “Qué tenga un buen día, Coach,” Mrs. Gutierrez called after her.

“Igualmente!” Jane replied, already on her way. She deposited her haul on her front passenger seat, keeping her coffee in hand, and then walked over to the alley between the Gutierrez bakery and the block wall separating it from the Cardenas market just across the way. She put her hat back on, threading her ponytail through its opening, and adjusted her Oakley sunglasses as she stood by the dumpster that Jonathan Gutierrez currently filled with broken-down cardboard boxes.

He heard her shoes scuffling his way, so he turned. “Coach Rizzoli! It’s early as hell,” he said, “what’re you doing here?” He sweated through the ribbed tank on his torso and the black basketball shorts on his hips. Jane commiserated, having helped her dad out on many a plumbing job in the summer when she was in high school.

“Well, first day for teachers is today,” she said, sipping her drink. “And I had to get some of your mom’s pan for the meeting. They’d expect nothing less. I’m here lookin’ at you because she exhausted all my Spanish skills, and I needed to remind you that practice starts at one today.”

Jonny, as tall as her, lanky too, smirked. “I’m sure you could’ve found a way to say that to her,” he teased, knowing that she couldn’t have, not well.

“You’re a riot. One o’clock, and not a minute later, a’right? I will not hesitate to bench our centerfielder for opening day if he’s late,” she warned. Then she started to turn.

“That’s like seven months from now!” Jonny whined, setting his box cutter down and running a hand through his thick black hair. “I got work today! Last day before school starts next week!”

Jane rolled her eyes. “The perfect hair thing may work on the girls at school, kid, but it won’t work on me. Find a way to make it happen - if you get into Fullerton, it won’t be because I sent you, but because you did it on your own. Part of that means showing up to practice on time. Even in August.”

Jonny sighed. His mom would understand, but his wallet would be crying. “I’m tryna save up for a pickup like yours, though, Coach,” he tried, batting his eyes for extra sympathy.

Jane laughed, and then he did. “Listen. You show up for practice on time every day this year, and you and me’ll have a talk about replacing today’s wages for that new Ranger, a’right?”

“Ok,” Jonny said quietly. He knew that Jane knew they didn’t have much money. And he knew that she knew most everything about him - she meant what she said. She’d taken him under her wing when she’d noticed his boundless talent and his faltering attendance. When she found out it was to make enough money to keep him and his brother on the team, she’d covered the cost in full. That was two years ago, and now that Jonny was an incoming senior, they’d righted the ship together. There was only a little more to go until he applied to the school of his dreams, the one with the killer baseball program and just miles from home.

It didn’t hurt that Jane was the first woman to play ball there as a range-y second baseman, was eventually drafted from Fullerton. He wanted to follow in her footsteps as best he could. “Good. See you then, kid,” she said. He knew that she knew the best way for him to do that was to grind. To eat, sleep, drink, and shit baseball.

“Hey Coach!” He called after her as she made her way back into the alley.

She turned around. “What’s up?”

“I wanna focus on my forearms this year. Should I go the Altuve way?” he asked, smiling.

The Jose Altuve way: banging sledgehammers into tractor trailer tires. Jane guffawed. “I’m not saying do it, but I mean hey, guy’s 5’5” and hitting thirty dingers a year in The Show, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Jonny said. “I’ll take it under advisement. Thanks,” and with that, he waved Jane off. She spent the rest of the ride to school thinking about how to safely incorporate forearm work into the team’s regimen in a way that didn’t involve sledgehammers.

The bread had made her truck smell like heaven, and it was the perfect olfactory accompaniment through the working class neighborhoods of Coronita Heights - the part that she felt more comfortable in. She’d grown up down the 91 in Santa Ana, one of Orange County’s most vibrant cities, and her street looked a lot more like these than the ones that Empire High School sat on.

But Empire was one of the top 15 baseball programs in the state, and she had jumped at the opportunity to coach when she’d been approached about it. She packed the few boxes from her parents’ house, used the rest of her signing bonus to put a nice down payment on a house in Coronita Heights, and hadn’t looked back. It had been good for her - she kept in shape, used that teaching credential she’d worked on at Fullerton to teach PE, and led the Knights to a CIF championship in the five years she had been there. She hunted another.

Soon, the burger joints, smoke shops, and insurance spots gave way to expensive houses and palm trees, and she saw the massive campus come into view. She hopped out of the truck once she parked near the office toward the front, downing her coffee and tossing it in the trash. She tugged her belt, looped through her white baseball pants, making sure the fit was good, and then she took the breakfast out.

Another school year was about to begin, and she was determined to make it a victorious one.

___

Maura smoothed her dress in the full-length mirror of her bedroom for what must have been the hundredth time. It was tasteful: sleeveless, dark blue, with a thin black patent-leather belt around its waist. She paired it with black heels, and she looked good. She knew, intellectually, that she did, but this happened every time she started something new: the nerves kicked in and she doubted herself. She curled her impeccably styled hair behind her right ear out of habit, and then made her way downstairs for breakfast.

Her palatial home in Anaheim Hills sat overlooking the city below, still sleepy at six-thirty in the morning. She was anything but, having already completed her run and entire grooming routine. She perused the options within her double door refrigerator, still quite imposing even under the expansive wooden beams on the ceiling that ran from wall to wall. She thought about eggs, protein always a good start to the day, but then remembered the expected temperature and decided a cold breakfast of yogurt and berries would be best.

Again, it was too hot for warm coffee, but the massive cold brew dispenser she had readied just a few days prior called her name and she filled a tumbler with it and her favorite almond milk creamer. She’d have one cup with breakfast and a refill for the road, as she always did from May to October. She reveled in routine; it was what helped her not to shake as she brought a spoonful of honey, dairy, and strawberry up to her lips.

Today, despite her several years of doctoring, would be her first job with the living since residency. In fact, it would be her first non-clinical job, well, ever. Even when she had volunteered for research, it had been in pathology labs, or oncology centers, or Alzheimer’s wards. Now, she would head the pilot program for a pre-med track at Empire High School. Well, pre-pre-med, she corrected herself. The point of the program was to prepare students from non-private and non-charter school backgrounds for the rigor of medical school. And, as a graduate of the Geffen School of Medicine at UCLA, as well as Boston Cambridge University for undergraduate work, Coronita Heights Unified thought her very qualified to head its inception.

Maura was humble, so she did not consider that they also factored in her copious research articles within the field of pathology, nor her several awards from the Medical Board of California. But they did, and so today she started her teaching/counseling position that included Advanced Placement Anatomy and Physiology, as well as Advanced Placement Biology and an elective of honors molecular pathology to boot. She had negotiated that last one to retain a taste of her passion outside of teaching.

Satisfied both with her breakfast and her mulling, Maura rose from her stool at the kitchen island, its white marble counter still gleaming from its recent clean this weekend, and made her way to the sink. She rinsed her bowl, placed it in the dishwasher on the top rack with the others, and then washed her hands for twenty seconds. Soap on, palm scrub, back-of-the-hand scrub, webspace scrub, for as long as it took to hum happy birthday to herself, twice.

She reveled in routine.

She unscrewed the lid of her tumbler and placed it under the dispenser in the refrigerator again, watching dark coffee wash over ice cubes with pleasure. The properties of matter, their predictability and regularity, calmed Maura. She could predict where each rivulet would go with accuracy, and then watch the change of color with no surprise when she poured in her creamer. She could control how light or dark it became, and thus control its flavor. She savored that one last ounce of control before she screwed her lid back on and walked over to where her purse and rolling cart awaited her at the front door.

She took one last look behind her, at the open concept living room so large it needed a sectional couch that no one used because people hardly ever dropped by, at the kitchen with state-of-the-art, industrial appliances that often cooked meals for one. It was her home, even if all of that were true, and the way that the southern California sun poured in through her floor-to-ceiling windows thrilled her. It thrilled her the way it had the first time she set foot in LA, for her first day of classes. She let that embolden her as she locked the door and stepped into her S-Class.

Navigation popped up as soon the engine roared to life, already pre-programmed with the route to Empire High School. She saw the calculation of a twenty minute drive, rearranged a few numbers in her head as she thought about the day of the week, the time of the morning, and the unpredictability of the 91, and decided twenty minutes was probably just about right. She’d given herself a cushion for twenty-five, and with a glance to the men’s style cartier on her wrist, she smiled and pulled out of the garage towards the main drag that would lead her to the freeway.

She jumped out of nerves and surprise when the system notified her of a call coming in. She smirked when she saw the caller ID: Dr. Nina Holiday, Hoag Hospital. Maura pressed the call accept button. “Need a consult already, Doctor?” she teased, her own voice always just a bit foreign in the morning after not having heard it for hours.

Doctor Holiday scoffed on the line. “You wish,” she replied, and then there were beats of silence. “I just wanted to call to wish you good luck on your first day. And to see if you’d reconsider.”

“If this is Hoag’s way of trying to lure me back, by making their premier neurologist do all the dirty work, I think I’m going to have to pass,” Maura said, and Nina laughed.

“No, this is just a friend saying you’re gonna be missed is all,” said Nina. “But I respect what you’re doing.”

“Thank you. I appreciate it,” Maura demured. “Pathology is in... very capable hands with Doctor Pike,” she said, and then immediately the two women guffawed.

“You couldn’t even get it out before you started laughing!” Nina asserted, “see? We’re up a creek with no paddle!”

“Whom the department decided to hire in my stead is not my business,” Maura replied professionally, “especially if they do not take my recommendations into account,” and then with more spice.

“You right, you right. And I know I said it before, but I respect you for this. I think my road to medicine might have been a lot easier if I had someone like you at my high school to guide me through,” Nina said seriously. “Just answer me something: you didn’t leave because of Ian, did you?”

Maura stiffened. She hadn’t wanted to think about that on her first day, but here Nina was, dredging it up. Maura wrung her hands on her steering wheel. “No. Not really,” she answered, and that was the truth. The timing of it all had just been awful.

“Ok. I just… with him being gone, I didn’t know if that would be better, or if you’d be haunted by ghosts, you know? If you stayed.”

“I think I needed a fresh start either way, Nina. I really do,” Maura said.

Nina took the hint that they were done talking about it. Her voice turned chipper again. “I’ve got a call at seven, so I have to go, but I’ll talk to you soon, ok? You can tell me all about your first week. Maybe over bottomless mimosas.”

Maura sighed with relief. She would need that. “Sounds great. Nina?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for calling. I’m… I’m going to miss you, too,” Maura confessed.

“Aw, Doctor Isles, don’t get all mushy on me,” gushed Nina. “Bye. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Bye,” Maura said after the line had gone dead.

Nina’s call had lasted most of the ride. Maura was grateful. Nina had been one of the few people to get to know her at Hoag. The hospital itself had a very competent staff. Excellent, really. And Maura was one of the best, so this led to a never-spoken, always-felt air of competition. It didn’t really lend itself to friendship. But Nina had consulted with Maura so often, that a comfortable working relationship eventually morphed into a casual friendship. That turned into drinks on the rare weeknights they had off and brunch on Sundays at some of the best spots in Orange County.

They promised to continue, and they would of course, but for the first time in their friendship, they didn’t work a floor away from each other, and Maura resolved that while she would do everything to keep it alive, she had to acknowledge the change. Fittingly, as soon as she did so, she drove into the staff parking lot at Empire High. Her new beginning.

Her welcome e-mail mentioned a staff meeting today, Friday, in the lecture hall at the front of the school, refreshments provided. So, she pulled next to the gunmetal gray Ford Ranger to her right, and gathered her things. Her cart could wait until they were dismissed to ready their classrooms, so she deposited her fob into her purse and sipped on her coffee for fortitude as she followed the sidewalk pathway past the front office to the lecture hall. She had mapped out the route when she had found out about the meeting, deciding that touring campus on her own before she began would reduce her anxieties, as well as the possibility of unknown factors. It was also why she had arrived right on time: early meant possible one-on-one conversations with strangers, and late meant all eyes on her as she hustled in.

She pushed her sunglasses to the top of her head when she reached the glass double doors of the hall, and breathed in one last time. It was a big, 360 degree breath: it engaged her pelvic floor and spread her ribs equally. It lowered her pulse and calmed her nerves, and then she was ready.

When she entered, she heard chatter. Lots of it. When she turned the corner and yanked open the wooden door of the room itself, she was shocked to see what looked like most of the staff already deep in conversation in their seats. Some stood, others stretched their legs over a couple of seats at once, some laughed and some nodded seriously. For a moment, Maura panicked, then checked her watch again. She felt her heartbeat fall a little bit when she looked up to the front and realized that no-one had started the meeting. In fact, there was a small line at the sign-in sheet, so she decided that rather than have a breakdown in the walkway, she should join the line.

She mustered as much courage as she could and stood behind the last woman, who smiled at her politely. Maura smiled back and thanked whatever powers that be that the woman didn’t try to engage. The line moved quickly, and staff members grabbed what looked like sweet bread just off to the side of the table as they signed in. She forewent the sugar and decided just to take the requisite printouts instead. By then, things started to feel a little more like a normal job orientation, so she turned on her heels to make her way back to the crowd.

The confident turn ended up being another mistake, however, because as she started to walk, she saw no openings. It was like the middle of a very bad dream, in which she needed so desperately to blend in, but all she could do was stand out. She felt eyes on her as she passed tables full of other adults, she heard conversations quiet and alter when she walked by.

However, just as she was about to give up and stand all the way in the back, someone called out. “Hey,” the voice was firm, raspy, and kind. She turned instantly and it kept talking. “You need a spot? I was savin’ this one for my brother, but, big shocker, he’s late.” Seated at a table in the middle of the hall with an all-white backpack on the empty chair next to her, two aluminum bat handles sticking out on either side of it, was… “Oh, and I’m Jane. Rizzoli. By the way.”

Jane Rizzoli. Maura thought the name fitting. Jane was so tall and so dark-featured and so handsome that she needed an Italian surname. And by god, she had one. One with a trilled-r and a plural i and everything: it was perfect for her in the way that all its sounds signified abundance. Maura’s mind rambled and she caught it; she wasn’t even sure how the phonotactic rules of Italian applied to Jane’s physicality, but they did, and Maura sat next to her without hesitation. She chanced one glance to the length of Jane’s torso as she curled to put her elbows on the table, and then she met Jane’s dark brown eyes.

It was then that she realized that Jane probably awaited some kind of response. “Maura Isles,” said Maura, holding her hand out. Jane shook it and Maura was not at all surprised by the firmness of the shake.

“Hey Maura. I’m uh, I’m the head baseball coach here. I also teach PE,” Jane explained. Then she looked down at herself, her uniform and the bats in the backpack now on the floor. “But you probably guessed that.”

Maura smirked, and laughed softly. “I don’t like to guess. It puts people in awkward positions. But I would say there’s lots of evidence to that fact, yes.”

Jane laughed openly and then took her hat off. “Well, I’m gonna go out on a limb and guess you’re the hotshot doctor that they hired for our new pre-med pipeline.”

Maura raised a perfectly-sculpted eyebrow. “And why would you assume that?”

“You talk like a doctor. And you dress better than everyone else in this room. Real doctor-y,” Jane wagged her own eyebrows up and down.

Maura watched Jane’s crooked grin, rapt. “One…” she began slowly, “doctor-y is not a word. Two, what if I were independently wealthy and taught, oh say, English?”

Jane shrugged. “Words are made up. And are you? Independently wealthy?”

Maura’s mouth twitched in humor. “Yes,” she answered. Jane threw her head back in defeat. “But, I am also the doctor piloting the pre-med program here.”

Just like that, the slender column of Jane’s neck brought her head forward again. “Thought so!” she said. Just as she did, The man who Maura knew from his photo online as the school principal walked in. People started to hush as he made his way to the front podium. Even she turned her attention, until there was the distinct warmth of whispering by her ear that dismantled all other thoughts. Jane was speaking. “Well, Dr. Isles,” she responded, “welcome to Empire High, then.”

[mysteriesofmilo]

Quotes tournament, round 2!!

It's time to finally move on from the opening round of our MML quotes tournament! Now because I did not separate the seasons, this will end up being the biggest round we have ever had in any of our tournaments. And because I will be away from home for the next few days, I will plan to end it on Sunday the 28th. Now, here are the results of round 1:

Balloon full of stinky water beat Who I'm not yet 13-6 (68.4%)

Pizza delivery guy trap beat Babies are evil? 16-4 (80%)

Absurdly fast koala beat Head has tensile strength 11-9 (55%)

"We can repair it" alarms beat Shark cage 12-8 (60%)

Don't listen to me barely edged out British pizza 10-9 (52.4%)

Impulsive mistakes of his youth beat Never been in trouble 14-5 (73.7%)

In one previously tied matchup, Desertland beat Soy dogs 11-8 (57.9%)

Those wooden stakes will kill him beat Sounded hinty 15-4 (78.9%)

Dr. Not Sorry beat Quadruped thespians 12-7 (63.2%)

In the other previously tied matchup, Orange peeling time barely beat Easy to Get Lost and Die in Woods 10-9 (52.4%)

Now on to the next round!

Loss can lead to new adventures vs Balloon full of stinky water

Haven't heard you complaining vs Hamilton H. County

I had to take the bus vs Bird-a-surus

Brakes are broke vs Disaster Magazine

Unnecessarily disintegrated vs Exfused and concited

World War V vs Harpoons and feeding frenzies

Why seek danger? vs Squirrels and tuna

Doof’s first robot vs Ends with a sentient blob

Anxious about shopping carts vs Pizza delivery guy trap

I smell a Murphy vs Worst punishment

Make some noise vs More ridiculous than his life

Plays by his own rules vs Sign has sharp edges

Sure that would not work vs Absurdly fast koala

Mice could fly vs My soap is talking

Contemplating my tragic existence vs Confusing stuff cabbage tree

Vorpel wrap vs Win this cooking show

Actually don't sit back vs "We can repair it" alarms

Right amount of whelmed vs Get out of the van

Buffalo with marshmallow vs I still maintain he's not

Not a wave of fire vs Bug on your face

Hanging off the edge of a cliff vs Milo the Great

Monkey on his shoulder vs Bungle this assignment

Get used to it vs Fake sleep magazines

You are worthless vs Not this time

Vintage T-shirts vs Don't listen to me

Time capsule vs Suit on an Undergrounder

So scared I'm not scared vs BYO toilet paper

Photos of all the parks vs Great Caesar's ghost

Ride dirt bikes vs Throw this round thing

Loser shovels the winner's driveway vs If you survive today

Where is the exit vs Run toward the danger

Take our picture or eradicate us vs Revenge mode

Toddler Talent Show vs Impulsive mistakes of his youth

Shield your head vs We're all gonna try

Blindly followed her instructions vs How many hamsters

Judgmental man vs Ate a Congressman

I'm hazardous vs Just a prototype

Head caught in a helicopter vs Picking up Milo

Only on a TV show vs Royalty, part monkey or both

Dining on other worlds vs 3/4 marmoset

Hi plane vs Desertland

Not worse than trash vs Murray the Middleman

Inside out? vs Uneven playing field

Found Milo's backpack vs Cohesive color scheme

Don't appreciate your bones vs Those wooden stakes will kill him

You look delicious too vs Halfway across the galaxy

Actual superintendent vs Garbled screams

That goes for anyone in this building vs Eggs for breakfast

Fries with cheese vs Dr. Not Sorry

Flaming pig vs Stranded people

Your milk carton vs At increasing velocity

They took a bus vs A single tent shaped tarp

Dumping toxic waste vs Middle School Safety Award

Claustro-avoident vs Some are still standing

Fowl beast vs Ice cream combination

Disco dancers in Danville vs Snow Flyer 1.5

Breakfast inside of a lunch vs Orange peeling time

Furlong per jiffy vs Required to notify us

The really big ball vs A to B

Unless someone accidentally vs Stuff just explodes

Commemorative plaque vs On his sled of doom

Cyborg grizzly: destroy man vs Country vs western music

Some say he doesn't exist vs What I sorta can see

And there you have it! Sorry the last round has been down since last night; I was in the middle of updating the bracket when I fell asleep. Anyway, vote here: https://forms.gle/JXgXzP9D2fwakJ4i7

View the updated bracket here: https://challonge.com/fbifxfp2

View the full list of quotes here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1ZW4PSIUnBEw-J89UTNBYtUu1qiFtPkQW1Q1CcaetVho/edit?usp=sharing

And view the wiki here:

https://milomurphyslaw.fandom.com/wiki/Milo_Murphy%27s_Law_Wiki

Happy Thanksgiving! Time for faith🙏, family👨‍👩‍👧‍👦, friends👥, food🦃, and football🏈, in that order!

[thekidultlife]

The Most Convenient Escape | Jihoon Soulmate!AU (5)

⍟ Pairing: Jihoon x fem!reader

⍟ AU: Fantasy/ Soulmate AU

⍟ Genre: ANGST, SLOW BURN, fluff

⍟ Warnings: mentions of abuse, drinking, and sex

⍟ Word Count: 8.5k

⍟ Synopsis: For all your life, you have a deep disdain towards Soulmate Bonds, so much so that you are able to write opinions about it in a local newspaper. However, as life would have it, you wake up one day bonded to a person you hardly knew. Throwing in an investigation, annoying roommates, and a revolution looming just beneath the surface, you had to seek for the most convenient escape.

⍟ A/N: So on to the next chapter! This is probably the longest I’ve written for this series! Anyway, please excuse my tarot reading skills, my knowledge is only limited to watching pick a car readings in youtube and google. Now that’s out of the way, please enjoy! -Hyeri

⍟ Taglist: @shoshishua, @woozisnoots (I also want to thank @minkwans and @oprandomfeels for leaving such a nice messages on the tags in the previous chapter!! I dont want to sound creepy but i do comeback to them if i needed motivation to write! so thank you!!)

CHAP 1 | CHAP 2 | CHAP 3 | CHAP 4 | CHAP 5 |  CHAP 6 |

CILVEKAN ESPIONAGE TURNS PARLIAMENT INTO A BATTLEFIELD by Jeon Wonwoo and Kwon Soonyoung

The Porta Persa Edition, October 12th

Words that break like cannon shots, arguments that burn like incendiaries, bulwarks of statements that are hardly impenetrable—such is a terrifying and impressive sight to behold upon the ancient halls of the Parliament in these last few weeks. The fate of the two Cilvekan agents who were previously caught in Lower Efendel had been a divisive force upon the venerated legislative body of our nation; rendering them into a heated stalemate. 

Armed with wit and sound proofs, Conservatives led by Atlen County Representative Kang Jinho campaigned for stringent travel restrictions, as well as a thorough examination of all Cilvekan nationals entering and leaving Porta Persa. He contends that the security of this powerful nation must not be compromised for simple material gains. 

Pointing an accusing finger at the trading and tourism industry which has seen immense growth in profits due to the inflow of foreign immigrants and visitors into the country, Conservatives have been critical of lax travel regulations over the years in which they view, as in Rep. Kang’s words, as a means for ‘alien entities’ to ‘wreak havoc in this peaceful land’ and ‘further their covert operations to diminish and weaken the stability of Porta Persa’. According to Rep. Kang, it is rightfully so that sacrifices are to be made to ensure that no foreign powers would dare to assert their influence over this country. 

On the other side of the argument lie Santaragossa Assembly Representative Lee Jihoon, the flagship of both Libertarians and Moderates on this matter, who, with his rapid fire responses, have advocated for softer regulations and an extensive counterintelligence program instead. 

In his speech to Congress today, Rep. Lee disputes that economic factors are hardly simple, and should not be diminished into mere ‘increase of gains’. In his words ‘There are people who, if harsher travel restrictions are thus placed, will be left for wild dogs to eat, for the weather to beat and rattle their bones on the cold earth. With no means of a livelihood to provide for themselves, what will become of them? For us who have a roof to sleep in, and food on the table to eat, it is easy for us to say that travel restrictions are a minor inconvenience. Yet for these people, harsher travel restrictions are equivalent to a death sentence.’

He further advocates for a better counterintelligence program wherein proper and stronger defenses are to be implemented only at the appropriate areas, as this is not only cost effective, but also ensures that the livelihood and the human rights of all people in Porta Persa, whether be citizen, immigrant, tourist and whatnots are protected and venerated…

◇

“Lee Jihoon was truly frightening during that session. I swear to god, sitting there feels like he’s attacking me personally.”

Unlike the usual, the three of you were not relaxing comfortably outside the lush courtyards of the Royal Academy, eating carefully prepared lunches and enjoying the view. Instead, late morning sunlight poured from the open windows, illuminating the wooden desk and chair you were sitting on, silently listening to your friends.

To your right, sat said friends: Wonwoo and Soonyoung who were fresh from the printers, the rancid smell of ink sticking to their regal school uniform. On Soonyoung’s hands was the freshly printed draft of your newspaper, which was to be released the next day. 

He folded the newspaper and tossed it beside you on the desk. 

“He’s been like that for what? A week now, I reckon?” 

“Two, in my opinion.” Wonwoo answered, adjusting his glasses. He was the calmer kind of fellow. Soonyoung was more theatrical. 

“Oh good god, it’s been two weeks already?” Soonyoung exclaimed, his lips ajar. “No wonder Y/N is here all the time!”

Wonwoo glanced at you, who simply turned away and faced the open window. “Why are you here exactly?”

You continued to grind Alizarin berries on your portable mortar and pestle with a nonchalant look on your face. “I’m making your allergy medicine.”

“Not yesterday and in the last few weeks,” Wonwoo retorted back, giving you an inquisitive look. “Now tell me, is it because of Lee Jihoon?” 

Groaning, you continued to pour all of your irritation at the poor powdered berries in your mortar. “Must the reason always be Lee Jihoon?” 

“Well, why are you here then?” Soonyoung shrugged, glancing at you with raised brows. 

Exasperated, you sighed and left the mortar and pestle alone for once. In all honesty, the reason was indeed Lee Jihoon. After he saw your breakdown two weeks ago, you were avoiding him at all cost because you knew he was going to ask you about it and you were not one to divulge such sensitive topics. 

Of course, you wouldn’t let them know. “The way my room looks is just nauseating.” 

Soonyoung made an incredulous frown while Wonwoo snorted. 

“Right.” They both said.

Having childhood friends has its own disadvantages: you couldn’t really hide anything from them. Yet you wouldn’t tell them anything for that matter. Your room was indeed nauseating, spinning around and around as your vision blur if you just stay in one position for far too long.The way your stomach churns and your legs buckle because of the amount of suppressants you were taking to block your soulmate connection was something you simply cannot express into words. 

You stare at the red powder inside the mortar. The smell was making you lurch, reminding you of the suppressant, yet you expertly concealed it with a cough and a broad change of subject. 

“Aren’t we supposed to go somewhere today?” you asked, adding more berries to the mortar. 

“No, it’s on Friday, 3pm,” Wonwoo replied, checking his travel sized planner. “For some time, Soonyoung and I have been tracing documents from Luce Trading to see if they could give us some clues. But most of them inexplicably got lost or destroyed from last year’s flooding, but thankfully, Soonyoung found some in a novelty shop.” 

Upon hearing, you quirked a brow at them. “That is quite interesting. It is possible that something important is in those documents, especially when they had deemed it necessary to destroy them. It seems like fortune is on our side today.”

Wonwoo nodded. “Exactly my thoughts.”

“I reckon, those documents can finally settle the question of who their actual victims are,” the other male remarked with a considerate nod. “We can actually take a step forward in this investigation!”

You forced a smile. Truly, you were elated but the way your heart was palpitating wasn't feeling that great to you. Wonwoo adjusted his glasses once more, a habit he has acquired whenever he was thinking of something.

"Quite frankly, I still haven't forgotten what Jihoon had told me a few months ago," he started, fidgeting with his hands. "And god knows if he's telling me the truth or throwing us off the scent." 

"Oh that one..." Soonyoung exclaimed, nodding. You glanced at the two of them, looking betrayed. 

"Why have I no knowledge of this?" You asked, eyes shooting daggers. 

The two boys quickly exchanged glances and panicked.

"You haven't told Y/N?" Wonwoo asked the other male, who was beginning to pout. 

"What…I thought you told Y/N!" He replied, pointing at you. 

What seemed like a little misunderstanding was going to become a lot of bickering later on, so as you rolled your eyes, you put yourself between the two of them. 

"Alright, enough. Just tell me what Lee Jihoon said," you spoke sternly, hands on your hips.

“It’s not as straightforward as you think,” Wonwoo recounted. “Jihoon kept going in circles about our newspaper, Alex Fireflower—”

“Me?” you exclaimed, furrowing your brow.

“Yes, you. And the Gestalt case,” Wonwoo continued, acknowledging you. “At first, I was under the impression that he was simply inquiring what my thoughts were with regards to the Gestalt case as a fellow classmate, yet as it turned out, he appears to be hinting that it was a suicide case.”

A bewildered look was what you gave him, not understanding how a blatantly homicide case could possibly be a suicide. “I need you to expound further than that.”

Your friend shrugged. “That’s where the problem lies. We know that the Gestalts might be involved in the sex trafficking ring due to the judicial records we’ve discovered before, yet to what extent is a matter we have no knowledge of.”

“Oh, yes, that tax evasion case filed against Luce Trading that was suddenly dismissed by court with no apparent reason…it seems malicious, yet I still doubt that it should be considered a connection to the syndicate” Soonyoung remarked. 

“Those things usually happen yet everything involved in this case should be accounted for. Even including the possibility of it being a suicide,” Wonwoo continued. 

“Yet logistically speaking, how can it possibly be a suicide?” You asked, clearly unconvinced. “Lee Jihoon is merely giving us chaff.”

“That is the reason why I cannot just stop thinking about it. It’s perplexing.” 

“You’re just doing mental exercises, Wonwoo,” you dismissed him. “Trusting Lee Jihoon is definitely not advisable. He’s a politician. We might be unaware that he is in fact a part of that syndicate, and is simply playing cat and mouse with us.”

Wonwoo heaved a long sigh, leaning against the bedpost. “That, I won’t deny.”

“Rather than running on conjectures, we should proceed with the investigation instead,” Soonyoung interrupted solemnly. “We simply do not have the entire narrative.”

"I completely agree," you replied, leaning against the table as you go through another wave of stomach cramps with much composure. "Let's…lay out what we know first." 

The two of them nodded at you, which you considered a signal to begin.

"So, we know that some government officials are involved in a sex trafficking scheme. Why do we know that?" 

Soonyoung answered. "Because Wonwoo unintentionally eavesdropped a conversation between his father and a parliament member, who was trying to ask him to vote against the amendment of the Soulmate bond." 

"He offered my father membership to the syndicate among other things…" Wonwoo quietly continued, perusing his thoughts. 

"Right. We know that the Gestalt case is somewhat related to the syndicate. Why?" 

"For one, that parliament member who had attempted to lobby for my father's vote was asking him to vote against the amendment which has stemmed from the Gestalt case. It could possibly be a stretch but we should not deny it." 

Nodding, you continued. "And the fact that we had found out that Rene Gestalt had already died right after the High Court suspension. And had died under a different name and under a mysterious circumstance."

"If Rene Gestalt was a simple nobody, he wouldn’t have died in that manner," Soonyoung added. "And that tax evasion case shouldn't have been dismissed so easily."

"Luce Trading is more profitable than Kwon International, isn't it?" You asked, but Soonyoung immediately replied.

"Hey now! We had better sales for the past decade!" 

You giggled, "Alright, my apologies." 

"I still find it hard to fit the pieces though," Wonwoo interrupted. "Why Luce Trading? Why did Himi Gestalt die but not Rene? What exactly happened?"

The three of you exchanged glances.

"We need more information."

You leaned back, sighing as you felt the heaviness of the possible truth you have in your hands. Wonwoo and Soonyoung were pretty much the same. That’s why, more than anything, you didn’t want any sort of distraction, especially those that involve soulmate bonds.

“In the meantime, Y/N,” Wonwoo began, giving Soonyoung a look and then the two gazed at you with concerned expressions. “Are you truly, definitely, a hundred percent, alright?” 

You knitted your brows, and immediately replied. “I’ve never been better.”

“No…! No, what we meant is…” Soonyoung was the one who responded. “You…you fought with your father, didn’t you?”

It was a sudden inquiry, you can admit that, but you were not at least surprised they had asked. Your father must’ve gone to Soonyoung’s father and then they informed him of the matter. 

“A few weeks ago, yes,” you told them, nonchalant as you added more berries to the mortar. “I have decided to cut ties with him once and for all. He’s nothing to me now.”

You noticed that they were taken aback, but it was an expected reaction. The decision was indeed done in the heat of the moment, yet you didn’t feel anymore remorseful. 

“You do not have to worry about me. I have you two, and our newspaper is doing quite well in sales,” you reassured them. “Cutting him off is simply removing dead weight off my shoulders.”

Without any warning, Soonyoung pulled you to a tight embrace and Wonwoo followed soon after. You simply stayed still in surprise, as they continued to console you silently, knowing that you didn’t need any words to make you feel better. 

“Y/N, please know that we will always be here for you,” Wonwoo began. “We’ve been together since we were children, and we’ll always will be.”

“If you wish to get something off your chest, we are always here to listen. You don’t have to carry everything by yourself.”

You grimaced at this, but hid it easily by burying yourself underneath their embrace. You’ll tell them everything someday, but now, you simply wish to brave the storm by yourself.

“I will.”

◇

"Jihoon!"

Heavy footfalls echo across the marbled hallways of the Parliament. Rows of white columns line up on the curve, the view of Porta Persa easily seen with just one turn of a head.

"Jihoon, please wait for a moment!"

Harsh steps that march through with controlled frustration, and another set which was running after them. Nobody was on sight other than two men who were adorned by their heavy purple robes, billowing with the wind.

"Lee Jihoon!" 

"What is it ?!" The other snapped, his eyes piercing and intense.

The Minister of Foreign Affairs sighed, his demeanor tinged with concern. The whole Parliament hearing was tense and unnerving, and Lee Jihoon seemed to be in the middle of the swirling storm. 

"I simply wanted to see if you are doing well," Joshua offered, his voice calm, yet the other simply scoffed.

"What do you suppose?" he replied, his tone filled with frustration and sarcasm. "If we lose next week's vote, it'll be all over!" 

Joshua reached out for Jihoon's shoulder, trying to help the other through his temper. 

"Alright Jihoon, listen to me. We still have time. We can still convince the others to vote against the bill." 

"But we need fifty more votes! Where in heaven's name are we going to find those?" He exclaimed and then groaned, resounding through the deserted hall.

"You need to calm down, Jihoon!" Joshua reminded, shaking some sense into him. "You're making a mountain out of a mole hill!"

The dark haired male blinked, stunned by the sudden loudness of his friend's voice. The high had finally subsided in his veins as he huffed and removed himself from Joshua's grasps. 

"Jihoon…"

"I apologize. I'm simply exhausted," he replied, sighing as he turned his back to the other. "While this issue has been particularly draining, my soulmate bond is eating my energy away as well." 

Joshua blinked, wondering what was the matter this time. They had left Jihoon in his dorm room that day as instructed, yet for some reason after that, he seemed to have become more snappish and gloomy. 

Jihoon sighed once more, probably the nth time for today. 

"She…she was crying when she arrived, you know. I have no inkling as to why but it did hurt me…seeing her like that," he continued, now more to himself than to Joshua. "I wanted to comfort her or do something, anything…but she pushed me away, both physically and mentally. It's been weighing on me since then."

Without a word, Joshua walked towards him and placed an understanding tap on his shoulder. "I wish I can offer you some help."

At this point, Jihoon simply shook his head with a downcast smile. "There is nothing we can do about it if she doesn't want me." 

Those words, as he said it, felt more painful than he had anticipated. Yet that was the truth—she had blocked him, in more ways than one. Jihoon wished he knew why yet he had already spent enough sleepless nights on it that he didn't need more.

"In the meantime, it would be nice if we had those fifty votes before the weekend."

◇

Oct. 14th 

Desmere District, Porta Persa

"So, it's here?" You asked, standing in front of a decrepit shop, flanked by two of your friends. "Are you sure it's here?" 

You weren’t really one to judge but the way the roof shingles were about to fall, the dull green paint peeling off the door, and the dusty shop window filled by various junk accumulated over the years, was telling a rather clear story. 

You could even  hardly read the name of the shop. 

“52nd Oppleton street, Esmond Novelty Shop….Yes, without a doubt this is the one!” Soonyoung replied cheerfully, grinning ear to ear, “Come on now! No time to waste!” 

Wonwoo glanced at you with a knowing look as he followed after Soonyoung through the door. Today seemed to be one of those days where Wonwoo was in a rather irritatingly playful mood. “You heard him. No time to waste now, Y/N.”

It wasn’t new for you to be the victim of their teasing, but you didn’t appreciate it either when it comes. Thus, as you rolled your eyes and pursed your lips, you threw your hesitation out of the window. Following closely behind, you heard the charming bell chime above you as soon as you entered, yet the dust which wafted through the air was not as charming as you had feared.

“Welcome to our shop! Feel free to look around and see if anything suits your fancy!” A male voice greeted you three, though you cannot make out a clear image of him as he seemed to be covered by the centuries old dust. 

“Ah, we’re actually looking for someone…” Soonyoung replied, fishing a piece of parchment inside the pocket of his vest. “Um…a Madame Adora?” 

While the three of you seemed to be unsure, the tall burly man, which you have now seen after the dust has settled, nodded in understanding. 

“Yes, yes. Please follow me. Her shop is at the back,” he replied and turned around, not waiting for you to respond. 

Exchanging curious glances, you followed close behind—carefully studying your surroundings as you did. There were a lot of books for one. Stacks upon stacks of leather tomes piled on top of another which was rather deadly if one wrong move was made. The shopkeeper, seemingly used to this dangerous environment, easily navigated his way through the path provided. 

There were a lot of miscellaneous items as well: old shoes, typewriters, some ornate desks which were long forgotten. Dirty porcelain dolls, dull grey candelabras, and even a baby grand piano covered with various knickknacks—essentially, this was a shop of extras: once loved, tossed away and buried under the sands of time. Their fate seemed to have given you a melancholic mood, yet there is little you can do to change it. 

“Where do you find all of these?” Wonwoo asked, curious as he perused over an old book about outdated potions. 

“There are numerous ways,” the man shrugged, dodging a stray pole which was protruding from a pile of junk. “Sometimes we buy them from people who move houses, sometimes they just give it to us, and some just find their way here.”

His words immediately reminded you of the thought that objects do have souls in them. They used to be someone’s important thing; they were once given meaning and context by the people who used to own them. This place had become their new home now, amidst the sea of other objects that were no different.

A light knock on wood snatched you from your thoughts as you averted your attention back to the matter at hand. The shopkeeper had stopped in front of a slightly ajar door, peeking carefully at the space. 

“Madame, these people wish to speak to you,” he called out, yet he was met by silence and a rather loud creaking of a chair being moved. A grainy “let them in” soon followed, though you were not as sure since it was just above a murmur.

Nodding, the shopkeeper moved and allowed you space to walk inside the room. With rather modest postures, the three of you silently entered in file, easily spotting a worn out loveseat, which was probably a bright emerald in its youth, to sit on. It was a rather small space, enough to be a breakfast room, with second hand furniture and astrology-related objects littered around to give a sense of mystique. 

“Robert, fetch those documents for me please,” the old woman ordered, who you hardly noticed with how she was almost covered by the wooden desk before her. The shopkeeper, who was apparently named Robert hummed and disappeared, closing the door shut. 

As soon as he was gone, you scooted on your seat to take a closer look of the old woman. Just as you had anticipated, Madame Adora was petit, but was made to look larger by her bulky dress adorned by stars and moons embroidered in metallic thread. It had the same fabric as her headpiece which was wrapped around her head like a towel. The one which caught most of your attention however, was the large dangling sun and moon earrings which were as big as her head. You wondered if they were as heavy as they looked. 

“Um…we’re—” Wonwoo began but was instantly halted by the Madame with just one hand. 

“I know what you seek, my dear children,” she began, her voice croaky. Probably from smoking a bit too much; you thought as you noticed the ashtray on her table next to the burning sage. 

The three of you raised your eyebrows, wondering what Madame Adora could’ve meant by her words. She seemed to be the eccentric type, and you wouldn’t be surprised if she busted out tarot cards and a crystal ball any minute. 

“You are on your path to fulfill a great purpose for humanity. It is a fate neither you nor this country can avoid,” she continued, making you glance at Wonwoo and Soonyoung. You wanted to ask them if she was sane, but out of courtesy, you decided to keep your mouth shut. 

“O-Of course…that—that’s what we’re trying to do,” Soonyoung replied awkwardly as he shifted on his seat. “But we do need to—”

“Yet be cautioned. This path does not offer refuge nor solace for the tired and weary. You will be accompanied by danger, deceit and the deep dark evils of this world. You will face adversaries stronger and larger than you had anticipated. Poke the bear, and its claws shall appear. Be strong and always seek for the truth.”

“Uh…yes, of course,” you replied, ending with uncertainty. “So the documents—”

“Ah, yes. Robert will be here soon,” she interrupted yet again. “While we wait, would any of you like a tarot reading?” 

“T-tarot reading?” Soonyoung exclaimed, as he leaned forward, not sure if he had heard it right. 

What a surprise. You simply smiled.

Interrupting your gloating, Soonyoung suddenly nudged you with his elbow, making you look at him. 

“What?” you asked, your voice a whisper. 

“Y-you do it, Y/N!” He replied, his expression not betraying the fact that he was a bit afraid. 

“What? Me? Of course not! Do you suppose I believe in such buffoonery?”

“Now, now. It’s just tarot cards, what harm could it possibly do to you? Attack you with a paper cut?” Soonyoung immediately replied, even though he was the one who got frightened first.

“Soonyoung is right, Y/N,” Wonwoo joined in, though you knew he was trying to gang up on you. “Besides, you wouldn’t be so cruel to deny this poor woman an income, would you?”

You closed your eyes, and breathed in—incredibly irritated by this game Wonwoo was playing today. However, you just didn’t have the energy to pick up a fight with how your stomach was beginning to churn once again; the suppressants returning with a vengeance after the pain relievers had worn off.

“Fine then! I’ll do it,” you seethed through gritted teeth as you stood up and walked towards the old woman. “I’ll do it.”

Now much closer, you saw Madame Adora smile warmly at you, which made you feel a bit guilty for getting angry. Sighing, you turn your gaze down to the wooden desk, unable to look into her eyes. 

“Boys,” the Madame suddenly called in her raspy voice. “Robert is waiting for you in the other room to look at the documents. Your friend will join you shortly.”

At this development, both Wonwoo and Soonyoung glanced at you, asking if it was alright for them to leave you. You smiled at them encouragingly. You’ll be fine. It’s just a tarot reading.

“Please don’t start without me,” you turned to them as they left the room. “I’m looking at you Kwon Soonyoung.”

Your friend simply grinned and gave you a salute. “Aye, aye!”

When the door was finally shut and you were left alone with the old woman, you glanced at her, wondering what was about to happen, or if she was going to do something.

“What’s your name, my dear?” she asked, something you hadn’t expected.

“Uh…I’m Y/N,” you soon replied, fiddling with a stray lock. You tried to deduce what the Madame was thinking, but nothing came to mind. She was eccentric and unpredictable; there was no use trying to predict the next set of events.

“Well then, please take a seat, Y/N,” she offered the armchair beside you which you quickly sat on. “Is this your first time getting a reading?”

“Yes, I…” you tried to evaluate your next words. “I’ve never been to a shop like this before.” 

She simply chuckled at you, pulling out a deck of cards from a drawer. “I understand, dear. We readers are few in number, yet believe it or not, just like magical practitioners, it is necessary for us to have proper licenses.” 

With the new information, you raised your brows and nodded, wondering why you haven’t known of this field before. As you continue to swim in your thoughts, Madame Adora began waving the smoking sage around the area. 

Knowing your curious look, she gave a small smile. “To cleanse the space, my dear. Sometimes we carry residual energy from people, objects or situations. It is necessary to cleanse before we begin the reading, so we can only pick up your own energy.”

Nodding once more, you didn’t really know what she was talking about. You were no magi, and your knowledge of magic was limited to alchemy and potions, which was grounded more into the material world than the metaphysical. 

“Alright then. What kind of reading do you wish to do?” She asked and you only gave her a blank look—completely innocent to the kind of readings a reader could perform. 

Without you needing to say a word, the Madame nodded in understanding and explained it to you. 

“A reading, in its base form, is a medium to provide some clarity. The Universe itself provides the answers. So if there is a question, a situation which you wish to seek clarity on, then we could begin with that.” 

Even before the old woman had finished talking, your head was already turning gears and cogwheels. You wanted to ask about the syndicate and the investigative reporting you were doing, yet for some reason, a niggling feeling inside of you was telling you it wasn’t the right question to ask. 

So you searched for it, concentrating on the feeling that you knew you could trust. However, at the end,  you were surprised to where it had led you. You didn’t want to ask about it. It was done, it was there. It didn’t matter anymore. But you felt it. It was so strong that it made shivers creep under your skin. You know you needed to hear it. 

You sighed. It’s just a tarot reading. No harm done. 

“I…uh…” you gazed downwards, finding your wrist wrapped in ribbon to be quite fascinating; deciding for one last time if this was indeed the decision you were making.

“My…uh, soulmate bond.”

You were not sure if she had heard you with how small your voice sounded, but there was no way you would repeat yourself. The way you finally said those words out loud felt like some sort of acceptance; an acknowledgement that a soulmate bond existed between you and that person. Before, it felt like it was simply a figment of your imagination.

To your surprise, the Madame nodded at you, smiling proudly. “Then it shall be. Let us begin.”

You nodded back, watching as she began to expertly shuffle the cards. 

“I will be doing a simple spread for you. A first card or cards would explain your energy, and then his energy. Afterwards, your strengths and weaknesses, then the state of this connection. Finally, we will be asking for the future of your soulmate connection.”

Unaware of how specific tarot can be, you only stared at her quite agile hands, not fully understanding everything. 

“Please be reminded, dear that energies do change. What is shown here is simply the current energy of the soulmate bond. You and your soulmate still do have the agency to change your future, yet for now, this is what it is.”

You definitely liked the sound of that. If tarot had been in any way fatalistic, you would’ve soured on it in an instant. You always believed that you had some semblance of control over your life, or at least you wanted to. 

Quietly, the Madame began drawing out cards, mostly cards which jumped out while she was shuffling. As she began to neatly arrange the cards into a grid-like form, you watched out for any reaction or expression from her. As it turned out, the most you could get was a slight raise of a brow. 

When it was all done, she flipped the deck over and placed it beside the spread. Peering overing, you saw that there were a lot of cards, some were upright and the others upside down. You wondered what these all meant.

“Well then, my dear,” she spoke to you, glancing all over the spread and then nodded in understanding. “Let us begin with your energy—Eight of Swords, Queen of Swords reversed and the Hermit reversed.”

“Are those good or bad?” you asked, curious, yet the old woman simply tightened her lips.

“What I could say is that, you may seem to be trapped in your situation right now, whatever your situation may be. Look at this woman in the Eight of Swords,” she replied, holding out the card to you. “ She is blindfolded and surrounded by these swords. She seems to be trapped and imprisoned. It could be your thoughts or what you are telling yourself, as swords symbolizes our mind and how we communicate. You could be suffering from self-doubt.”

Taking in her words, you could feel a lump forming in your chest, knowing that she was indeed right. 

“And then we have the Queen of Swords, which is you. When she is upright, she is a force to be reckoned with: intelligent, independent and the speaker of truth, however dear, we have her in reverse, which only shows the shadow side of this energy. The Hermit in reverse is telling me the same thing. My dear, I must apologize, yet this is what I see. As you continue to trap yourself with negative thoughts, you are slowly closing off your heart, becoming coldhearted and bitter, leading you into more loneliness and isolation. Whatever has caused you to become like this was incredibly painful that you have been pushed into fear, creating these defensive walls which then became the swords blindsiding you at this moment.”

You were silent, knowing full well what the old woman was talking about. You wanted to be angry at her for speaking a truth you were trying to avoid all this time, yet there was only sadness in your heart. 

“I’m so sorry dear, but this is what the cards say, but please rest assured that your energy could still change. Considering the strengths of this connection, I have high hopes that this soulmate bond will succeed,” Madame Adora consoled you, seeing the deep hurt in your eyes. 

“It’s fine,” you replied, swallowing the bile forming in your throat. “Please continue.”

Hesitantly, the Madame moved to the two cards beside the first ones she had read. “For your soulmate’s energy: the Two of Pentacles in reverse and the Hierophant.”

“As for now, your soulmate is in an imbalance. Look at how this person is trying to juggle the two pentacles in the card. He could hardly balance them at all. It could possibly be that your soulmate finds it difficult to manage their career and this connection with you, as this is a pentacles card which usually pertains to finances and the material world. Or, it could possibly be that they cannot find the balance between their traditional values and the constantly changing world with the Hierophant. Their views are definitely being challenged by you and your connection. Nevertheless, they seem to have felt your withdrawal and decided to focus on their career instead, which has now become two burdens on their shoulders.”

Making a downcast look, you felt guilty for making him feel that way. If he had indeed felt your pain through the bond, then he was no better than you. He was hurt too and the thought of you unintentionally inflicting pain on someone was something you were not keen on. 

“Now then, let’s  move to the strengths of this connection with the Chariot and Strength cards, which are incredibly powerful cards to have. Even this whole spread is powerful, considering how much Major Arcana you have.”

You leaned your head to the side. “Oh, is…is that so?”

“Yes. The Major Arcana holds more significance than the Minor Arcana, that is why having numerous cards from this suit could mean that this connection could be life changing for the both of you. With that said, having the Chariot and Strength implies that the both of you have a tremendous amount of strength and willpower. You and your soulmate are influential people who will stop at nothing to achieve your goals. That is why, even through all the pain and difficulties this bond will bring, this connection will survive.”

Not knowing what to make of that, you simply nodded. You were unsure if you do want this connection to survive. You hardly know your soulmate and you had no interest in doing so. You had long abandoned the idea that you will find love in a soulmate bond.

“Well now, look here, Y/N. I have been called upon to draw three cards for the weaknesses of this connection. We have the Five of Swords, the Nine of Swords in reverse and the High Priestess in reverse,” she continued, showing you the three cards.

“At this moment, there is conflict and disagreement in this connection. It could possibly be that the both of you have fought and that was the reason for your stagnant energy and his withdrawal, and with the Nine of Swords in reverse, usually this card means your anxieties and fears, and in reverse, it could be a release of those negative energies. However, in this reading, it seems like the both of you are hiding this inner turmoil in your hearts. Look at the image here,” the Madame pointed at the Nine of Swords.

“The woman is crying on her bed at night while these swords loom above her—she is crying alone, only the night is her companion, when everyone else is asleep and oblivious to her pain. In a way, you both are mirroring each other. You try to keep this conflict in your heart, making you feel disenchanted with this connection. You had lost hope of finding this love you seek. They on the other hand, try to bury themselves in their career or material possessions. They want stability and a sense of normalcy, yet cannot find it. The Universe has been providing divine guidance, yet with the High Priestess in reverse, the both of you cannot hear or perceive the signs.”

“This is further clarified with the Hanged Man and the Tower, both in reverse. These two cards represent the state of this connection, which further confirms the stagnation and fear of change in this connection. I felt this in the beginning when I was tapping to your energy, but dear, have you been blocking your soulmate bond?”

For some reason, you could only look at her and speak no words. There was fear in your eyes and guilt in your gut. It felt like you had done something unforgivable. You cast a glare to your arm, unable to utter any words of admittance. 

“Dear, may I see your wrist?” Madame Adora asked softly. You were hesitant at first but eventually gave in, pulling the ribbon that was wrapped around your wrist and placed it on the table. 

Gently, she examined the dull black bars on your skin as you watched curiously. You would ask what she was doing if she hadn’t begun speaking once again. 

“You are in pain, dear. Deep, deep pain you need to heal from. It’s not a fresh wound, but scars inflicted from so long ago yet continuously being pried open over the years. You keep on ignoring, burying these scars, hoping that time would help it heal someday,” she said, her fingers on the marks. 

“Yet when this soulmate bond came, it had forced you to face them even if you have no wish to, even if you were not ready to. This bond is making your fears rise to the surface—the fear of heartbreak and of disappointment. Thus, instead of waiting for someone else to do this to you, you decided to nip it in the bud. You try to convince yourself that you wish to be alone, that you are comfortable alone, yet deep inside you, you long for someone to share the heaviness which weighs down your heart.” 

Without even realizing, you had furrowed your brows and was glaring at the offending soulmate mark on your skin. There was a feeling deep inside you which refuses to accept the old woman's words. It was too painful to acknowledge the yearning that was deeply-rooted in your heart. It was too embarrassing to say that you had made a mistake.

You were simply protecting yourself. Those scars had long healed itself. You had already cut ties with your father and that was the end of the story. There is nothing more to talk about. There was no need to face any more of this. There is no need to reconcile with your soulmate. 

Gritting your teeth, you could sense anger rise deep inside of you. 

“But dear let me reassure you that despite everything, you will come together in the end. For the future of this connection, you have the Two of Cups which signifies a union. It is my soulmate card because as you can see, these two people are sharing, exchanging cups—”

—!!

You slammed your fist on the table abruptly, the cards jumping in disarray. Madame Adora looked at you sadly as you snatched your wrist away, holding it close to your chest. Your eyes were burning with rage, yet the old woman knew that that anger was rooted from deep longing and sadness.

“I don’t want it,” you muttered in a low voice, and then, after a short pause, began shouting as if it would relieve the guilt in your chest. “I don’t want it! I don’t want this! Could you please leave me alone!”

Without waiting for a reply, you ran out from the room, from the shop. You were in no capacity to continue the investigation with your friends when you are in this state of instability. You just want to leave and disappear for a while. 

Just for a while.

◇

Back inside the room, Madame Adora was greeted by Soonyoung and Wonwoo, who were surprised to know that you had left running out of the shop. 

“Ah, did Y/N lose her temper again?” Wonwoo asked as he had heard you shouting earlier. “We must apologize, Madame.”

“No, it is I who wishes for your pardon. I must have hurt your friend,” she replied. “Please give this to her as an apology.” 

The two men watched as the Madame pulled out a small box from one of the desk’s drawers and placed it on the table. They wondered what the Madame had said in the reading that made you lose composure. 

“We will deliver this to her immediately,” Soonyoung replied as he took the box and dropped it inside his pocket. “And thank you for the documents.”

“It is meant for you. I had been called upon to buy the desk which it was stored in, and when you came to this shop in search for such an item, I knew it was meant for this purpose,” Madame Adora replied, intertwining her fingers together. “But more than that, please watch over Y/N.”

Both Wonwoo and Soonyoung exchanged glances. “W-we will.”

“Simply watch over her and give her support. She is going through something which only she can resolve.”

As the Madame said those words, her gaze was caught by the single card by her side. It was the card at the back of the deck—usually meant to summarize the energy of the whole reading. 

It was the Lovers.

◇

It was already dreadfully dark when you had decided to return to your dorm room.

The wisteria trees were already a midnight grey, the unlit path, a dark purple. Only a few streetlamps offered illumination through the pitch-black night as you waded through the campus in silence.

You took your time alone—wandering on random alleyways, sitting on deserted park benches, watching people pass by as they live their own lives, with their own problems. Nothing seemed real during those hours of isolation in the midst of the crowd. It was like the pain was too far away for you to reach; the events from that afternoon too far away to be reality.

Yet you knew you needed to return somehow. Thus, with eyes exhausted from crying tears unshed, and the ribbon you used to conceal your soulmate bond in your hands, you opened the door to your dorm room and saw its gauche splendor in shameless display.

With a sigh, you wrapped the ribbon on your wrist haphazardly, not caring if not seemed sloppy as long as the black bars were far from your sight.

Walking to the common room, you scanned the area for your roommate, wondering if he was asleep or still at his office on a Friday night. It would be better if you didn’t see him, you thought. There would be less explaining to do.

Yet the common room was depressingly empty. It had occurred to you that you never even spent much time in there as much as you would’ve liked. Was it simply because you were avoiding him or you were just not interested in sharing the same space with him, you didn’t know.

As you move past the wooden dining table and towards the kitchenette for a glass of water, you bumped into something fleshy and soft which definitely made you shriek and fall onto the floor in a painful thud.

“What…on earth?” you muttered, gradually coming down from your sudden adrenaline rush, your sight refocusing.

To your astonishment, you found one Lee Jihoon lying on the floor, obviously drunk by the whisky which was once inside the bottle he was clinging on to for dear life. Apprehensively, you crawled towards him, to check if he was still breathing. Yet before you could touch him, his dark brown eyes were on to you, still cold and jaded as the nights of December.

“Jihoon—“

You were about to reprimand him for bringing in prohibited alcohol inside the dorms and for sleeping on the floor during a cold autumn day, when you realized that his skin was red. Bright red.

Concern immediately shoots up to your brain as you reach out to him.

“Jihoon!” You exclaimed, shaking him to sobriety. “Jihoon! Are you intolerant to alcohol?”

Despite your concern, he could only hum groggily. “It’s…fine.”

“What do you mean ‘it’s fine’? How many bottles have you drunk?!” You asked, looking around and saw several bottles of the same whisky he was holding. “Oh god, you even chose one with high alcohol content! You shouldn’t be drinking this.”

“It’s…fine, Y/N. I only had a few… just a few…”

He simply groaned in reply, lying comfortably on the floor without a care in the world. You only stared at him in exasperation, brushing your hair as you sighed.

You felt an urge to just leave him like that on the floor until dawn breaks. He can take care of himself, and being drunk probably isn’t something new to him. Yet you knew you can’t just do that. Whether or not he was Lee Jihoon, you had the obligation to not leave him to die of alcohol poisoning or of hypothermia.

The last one was a stretch, you admit but still, there was no way you could leave him like that as someone who tries to be compassionate at every point of day. At least, the sofa was a lot better than the cold floor.

Reaching for his arm and placing it around your shoulders, you tried to carry Jihoon to the sofa just a few steps away. Yet you hadn’t anticipated how heavy he actually was as you barely dragged him across the room, huffing and panting. You were not one with the best fitness

“Come on, Jihoon. Hold yourself up!  You’re simply too heavy for me to carry!” You exclaimed as you tried not to stumble on the way.

“Mmn…I’m sorry...I’m trying…” he drawled, his eyes half-lidded and unfocused—obvious indications that he has drunk too much for his own good.

Just a little bit…

Taking that one step remaining, you immediately tossed Jihoon to the soft sofa with a long and exhausted sigh. He only groaned, his hair in a disarray. You had only noticed now that he still had his work clothes on: a grey suit piece sans the tie which he must’ve tossed somewhere in the immediate past.

He had his eyes closed as you sat closely to him, watching his chest rise and fall with every breath. Jihoon seemed to be in peace this way, far from the constant creases in his brow or on his lips. Brushing away a stray lock of hair from his face, you noticed the angles on his face, the fullness of his cheeks, the rosiness of his lips. Was he always this familiar to you? It was a question you had no immediate answers to. Yet you had never anticipated to end your exhausting day with a drunk Lee Jihoon, yet that’s where you are now.

“I should give him some medicine to ease the redness,” you muttered to yourself as you stood up, your mind already listing the ingredients you needed to make one tablet, but before you did, a hand had stopped you in your tracks.

“Please…don’t leave me,” his voice, still lethargic, echoed behind you and you were forced to turn, your eyes captured by his unrelenting gaze.

“Jihoon…” you spoke softly, returning to your seat beside him as you helped him sit up clumsily. “But you’re still flushing.”

“Doesn’t matter…” he replied back, leaning unsteadily until you caught him in your arms. Now he was peacefully resting his head on your shoulder, burying himself into your embrace.

“J-Jihoon…?”

To say that you were wholly surprised was an understatement. You were floundering and unable to make anything out of this situation. This was something incredibly out of character for the Lee Jihoon you thought you knew.

“Y/N…I must….must apologize,” he began, which definitely made you furrow your brows in bewilderment. “I’m so sorry… I—I failed you…”

You stared into the air incredulously, not understanding what page Jihoon was in.

“You didn’t fail me,” you replied back. “You didn’t fail anyone, Jihoon…”

However, it seemed like your words fell into deaf ears as he snuggled up to you, wrapping his arms around you tightly.

“I’m so sorry…Y/N…please…please forgive me…”

Concluding that this was probably one drunk confession, you allowed him to find comfort in your presence, placing a consoling hand on his back as he continued to apologize to you.

This was a side to him you hadn’t expected to see. It was vulnerable, raw and unapologetically real—words you never thought you’d associate with Lee Jihoon. Yet there you were, as you hugged him back, finding solace in his arms as well when there was no one in the world you could share your burdens with.

“It’s okay, Jihoon…” you replied to him as you closed your eyes. “At least you tried, and it’s good enough for me.”

“Yet…yet…why can’t I feel you…?” he cried out, his voice clearly in pain. “Why can’t I reach you…? I…I always…alwaysss wanted to know you…to hold you like this…”

“Jihoon…”

You wished there was something you could say or do, yet you didn’t even know what he was talking about. It felt like the two of you were talking in a circle of riddles; finding yourselves in different pages.

“Y/N…please don’t be angry…please….please….don’t reject me,” he continued on as if in a trance. “I’m so sorry….so sorryyy….”

There was something in his words, or the way his voice shook that had pierced right through you. You wondered what you had done to him to plead to you like this. Yes, you did push him away a few weeks ago, yet that was the farthest you had gone to hurt him. You couldn’t understand what was happening, nevertheless, you still felt called upon to take action.

Moving your hand, you brushed his soft locks gently.

“I won’t reject you, Jihoon. I won’t push you away. I promise you.”

◇

PARLIAMENT PASSES BILL CRACKING DOWN ON CILVEKAN NATIONALS by Jeon Wonwoo

The Porta Persa Edition, October 27th

 In a historic vote, the Parliament has passed a bill on harsher travel restrictions for Cilvekan nationals as well as an extensive program which allows for the investigation of all Cilvekans in Porta Persa. This bill marks a tantamount win on Rep. Kang Jinho and his Conservative party—warranting a speculation of a bid on the Prime Minister seat.

This soon-to-be law highlights restrictions set on the amount of Cilvekan nationals leaving and entering Porta Persa wherein local governments can monitor their actions inside the country. It is also in the prerogative of the local government to deny entry to any Cilvekan wishing to enter.  According to Rep. Kang, it is necessary to be able to detect any sort of preemptive strike against Porta Persa to avoid endangering the security of the people.

This bill also boasts a program which, in conjunction with the restrictions, shall implement a vast inspection of all Cilvekan nationals present in the country. They are to undergo a thorough investigation conducted by the police and shall be warranted to arrests if ill-intentions against Porta Persa is proven.

With this bill, according to the Parliament, the government shall be able to ensure that the national security of Porta Persa shall not be threatened by any means, even if it meant sacrificing privacy and material gains. Sacrifice is and always will be inevitable on the road to peace…

◇

In the pitch black darkness of the night, echoes of footfalls resounded across the streets of Porta Persa. There was breaking of glass, breaking of wood, and shouts of women. 

Fear was high in the scent of the night. The streets of Porta Pera enshrined by men and women—rounded up in handcuffs and tied by accusations. Half the town was awake and afraid, half the town asleep and aloof. 

The night had just began.

CHAP 1 | CHAP 2 | CHAP 3 | CHAP 4 | CHAP 5 |  CHAP 6 |

-Hyeri

[dakotarrabideaulove]

In The Beginning. Fanfiction Ch. 1 Far Cry 5

Have you ever felt the gush of warm blood on your hands... Under your fingertips... The stain that coats the pale flesh crimson? 

 In Hope County, Many people have... Usually it wasn't at a young age.. Older if anything. This teenager had them beat.. by many years. 

Our story began like any other.. We were born, We live.. We die. Today it's not like that, It's different... Something a bit.. colder, Emptier. In Hope County there had been new people starting to move in because of a new and uprising church that called itself.. Eden's Gate.

Now for many people this church was a cult.. Unlike any other. Torturing... Killing.. Kidnapping people right and left. So what any person protecting it's people would do. The sheriff's office went to confront them.. But they had a shadow of sorts with them.

This female was about 18-20 years old.. Hardly a teenager but still a young adult at that. There was something... strange about her.

 She carried herself more like a shell, An empty carcass lacking and devoid of emotion, Eyes casted down like a dog.

Something was haunting... about those empty, sharp, grey iridescent she called eyes. It was as if they told their own story. The female was 5'3 in height, 150 lbs lucky if soaking wet. 

 She carried a hunting knife strapped to her thigh, Most clothes consisted of black or camo.

Messy chocolate locks brushed back into a tight ponytail and braided. The braid was wrapped up with a rubber band into a bun. Pale, soft lips graced her pale features as did her high cheek bones. This female of course was new and would be overseeing her very first arrest.

Of course along with Deputy Hudson, Sheriff Whitehorse, Federal Agent Burke.. and another Deputy. Though the tension was... thick on this day. It was a colder night than usual.. While the others were chatting on the airplane her mind was.. focused elsewhere.

It wasn't until she heard a female voice snapping at her. "Look alive, Kid." She turned her head slowly staring at Hudson.

 Lacking a response but seeming to pay attention. As they landed she could tell the people who lived here were... Not welcoming in the least.

As much as she could see... Guns. Scruffy looking people with intense fire power. She herself did not carry such things since she wasn't certified... yet. Slowly each person climbed out of the helicopter, As Burke lead the others, She lingered behind being a bit.. slower.

Taking in her surroundings... The buildings... The smell of the burning wood.. The sounds of the dog's barking in the distance.. 

 Something here sent a chill up her spine, Swallowing back bile the female kept trudging on through a set of large metal gates.

The words on the gate etched into her mind.. "Eden's Gate." She didn't believe in god.. Not after...everything she's been through. No god would allow someone like her to a beautiful life. Not that she ever believed... Shaking off the thought to catch up with the others.

They made their way towards a large white church.. It was strange... The paint was peeling.. It seemed run down but there was this.. feeling coming from it. 

 She couldn't place it... The feeling was familiar... She wasn't sure if she liked that or not.

"If we do this.. We do it my way. Calmly.. and Quietly." Sheriff Whitehorse told Burke. He seemed uneasy as did the others. As they exchanged pleasantries her mind was.. elsewhere. As their hands touched the doors you could hear the singing. She flinched... Christian music.

Those songs traumatized her all too well... She felt her hands slowly become clammy... Balling her hands into fists the girl remained... silent. 

 As Burke and Whitehorse slowly opened the doors and walked in, Each person followed... She could barely see past them.

Not that she wanted to.. As they walked further in each follower clenched a gun in their hands, She swallowed harshly as her throat dried up. Each step was all eyes on them and it made her... Uneasy... VERY uneasy..

Joseph kept preaching.. His voice growing louder.. The voices were muddled together until Burke snapped. "Joseph Seed you are under arrest." 

 Joseph's calm demeanor as he spoke and riled his people. "There they are... The locusts in our garden." The yelling only grew louder..

People anxiously rising in anger.. Shouting.. Blocking the way to their leader.. Joseph Seed. She could barely see him being in the back but.. His voice...

 It resonated through her body.. Like ice cold wind blowing through her.. She felt like someone could see inside of her..

The fear... grew. It was suffocating.. Paralyzing even. The Deputy had leaned over giving her a nudge and a glance as if checking in on her.

She shook her head... words lost in transition.. As they argued and soon it calmed down and all was.. quiet.

Joseph soon calmed his people.. Ushering them out the door. "Go... Go. God will not let them take me. I saw when the lamb opened the first seal..." She bit her lip sharply watching Rook step forward, Hesitantly she moved up closer with Rook..

Something in her.. She knew it was dangerous. "Cuff this son of a bitch Rookie." Burke's voice cut through the silence. Rook's hand had barely made it to the cuffs before mine had lashed out.

 My pale hand.. clenched around Rook's wrist.. The gaze turned to me.

Burke's wasn't one of happiness either. The clank of his heavy boots turned and he huffed. "The hell do you think you're doing kid? We came here for a reason.. Rookie. Cuff him." 

 My grip only tightened on Rook, My intense gaze meeting there's and shaking my head.. No.

At that moment.. It was as if time had stopped. Burke stepped forward and before she blinked there was a loud sound....  

The male had raised his hand.. 

and slapped her. 

His sharp voice snapping. "Snap out of it. You're acting like a coward." Her head hung in silence. 

Her grip.. Unyielding as Joseph watched the scene unfold.. His brothers and sister in the back with solemn faces.. 

All except for one.. 

John. 

His face was scrunched up in disgust.. and anger. 

 The small females frame was... shaking, Her eyes casted at the floor.

It was sharp the blow to her face.. It was familiar.. 

The child screaming.. begging... blow after blow.. The fear.. The anger.. the pain.

 It came surging back like it was a fresh wound opened up for fun. The girls frame was shaken as Burke closed the space between the two.

"I don't know why they sent you along with me.. Clearly you aren't cut out for this.." He spat. 

That's all it took.. 

The next few seconds changed what should have been the most terrifying moment in history. Her hand dropped Rook's and slid down to her thigh.

The petite hand curled around the large hunting knife. Her snap unclicked and like that she swung. 

She cut the males neck wide open.. With this Blank... Empty stare that could cut glass. 

 As Burke dropped to his knees cupping his throat, A desperate gaze to each of his comrades.

Soon before dropping onto the floor... As the blood pooled under her boots, The knife tight in her grip... Blood splattered on her face.. The silence in the room was deafening, All that was audible was the anxiety ridden breathing she was doing.. as she was shaking.

There was.. No remorse, No regret... Nothing. 

A chuckle.. but from who? It was thick, heavy chuckle at that. 

She didn't pick her head up. She met nobody's gaze as the Sheriff and Hudson exchanged glances. Each one of them stepping back slowly.

Nobody stepped up to defend Burke. Rook went to reach out towards her and it was like electricity. Once the hand met the flesh she jerked back as if being struck a second time.

 The look was one of.. an animal. An untamed.. Enraged.. Fearful animal. Rook had no words to offer.

Slowly the Sheriff's voice called out to Rook. "Rookie... We need to leave...Now." Urgency in the males voice.. 

She knew why.. 

She just murdered a comrade in cold blood with no remorse. She didn't mean to- Fight or Flight took over.. It was an accident..

Soon the tears that were filling her eyes spilled over down her face. Choked on the swelled lump in her throat as they streaked down her cheeks..

Remorse...

 As her gaze lifted to see the others quickly rushing out the doors... leaving her there... With Joseph Seed and his family

The grip on the knife soon slipped as it clattered to the floor. Each muscle gave out as she dropped to her knees. 

 She could hear the thumping of the boots.. As large pale hands reached down to brush her cheeks... She could not pick her head up she felt.. She had no strength.

The rough hand slid under her chin raising her head.. Those deep.. blue eyes staring right through her made her feel... helpless. 

  "Do not be afraid.. my child. I'm here to help you... To save you from your pain... To relieve you of your burden.."

His voice was silky smooth... All she could do was shake her head.. 

This wasn't real... 

It couldn't be real.. 

 She just brutally murdered a man on their floor and they want to help her..? 

This... has to be a dream... Right?

[seanhtaylor]

Cherry Hill

“Ain't never been a day like it," the old man said, "and ain't never gonna be one."

He sat rocking in a rickety chair while a calm November wind whistled through the chimes that hung above his paint chipped steps. Nearly eighty six, his hair was grayed and thin, and his scalp showed through in frequent, scattered patches. He spoke clearly and thoughtfully, a trait common to the Southern elderly I'd interviewed.

"You sure you want to hear 'bout this? 'Cuz it might take a while. I still get really choked up when I think on it even though it happened sixty some odd years ago."

I nodded. "Take all the time you need, sir."

"Alright..." he said, and shifted in the rocker, bringing it to a stop. The quiet squeaking died, and all was silent save the whistle of the breeze through the wind chimes. "Suppose it's best. This old county's got its ghosts lying around, and this one's probably due for a resurrection."

* * * * * *

William Emmett Johnson was sheriff then...Will, all us deputies called him. He was a real card, not a lick like the old sheriff. Will always used to win the Liar's Club's gold cup every Saturday night. That man could tell the most outrageous, but just barely believable untruths out of the whole Liar's Club. Heck, even at the jailhouse, we weren't ever really sure when he was giving it to us straight or just pulling our legs.

And he had this old confederate shirt he used to wear all the time. He said his grandmother gave it to him, and that it was sent back to her from General Lee with a letter saying how his granddaddy had been killed by a Yankee Negro. I guess because of that, you could say old Will had his teeth sorta set on edge toward colored people. He wasn't mean outright to them, but he sure didn't take a liking to them either. Will, Joseph, and I were the only ones at the jail, usually, so it was just the three of us who were there when it all happened. July twenty third, nineteen hundred and twenty six, I marked that day on a calendar in my head, and I'll never forget it. Jimmie Baker from the drug store came running into the jailhouse, shouting like Gabriel's trumpet was blowing outside and the good Lord was coming back.

"They gonna string him, Will."

"Who they gonna string up, Jimmie?"

"That little Jenkins boy, the youngest one."

"Albert Jenkins..." Joseph always did his thinking out loud. "Why, he ain't never been in no kind of trouble before."

"Well, he's gone and done it now. Lee Dunsten says he's the one what raped his little girl, Winnie."

Will just stared like he always did when he was thinking. "They got any proof, witnesses or personal things found at the site?"

"I don't think so, Will, but I don't think the lack's gonna slow 'em down any."

Joseph and I had already got our gun belts on, and were getting ready to go arrest the Jenkins boy, when Will gave us the call to arms, "Well boys, negro or no, ain't nobody getting lynched in Cherry Hill without Will Johnson looking it over first."

So we all packed into the new car the town had just bought for us, and rode out to the Dunstens' farm.

That Lee Dunsten and his boys done had the Jenkins boy down and bleeding all over God's green earth. They had a rope 'round his neck, and were jerking him here and there like a wild dog on a first leash. Cussing and whipping out his arms and legs, the boy was fighting the rope for all he was worth, but he just wasn't a match for Lee Dunsten mounted on his horse holding the other end. He never could get more than two or three steps before the rope would yank him to the ground and drag him 'round the farm some more. The Dunstens were making darn sure the boy didn't have any fight in him for when they got ready to dangle him in the wind.

Sheriff Will just stepped out of the car, and walked right up to Lee Dunsten's horse. He jerked the reins right out of Lee's hands, and brought the animal to a stop.

"What's going on here, Lee?"

"Now sherf, this here ain't none of the law's business. This boy's the one raped Winnie, and I'm gonna see he pays for it. You boys can get back in your fancy automobile the good people done bought for you, and go back to the jailhouse. There ain't no kinda trouble here for you to pay a mind to."

"Rape's a right strong accusation, Lee. I sure hope you got some proof the boy's guilty."

"Proof! What in Hell! Will? Since when do you need proof to string up a nigger boy?"

"Since we lost the war, Lee." Will was a lawman through and through.

"Well, Sherf Johnson," Lee said to him, "I don't see that it's so all fired important, but if it'll get you off my farm, we found the boy in the back of the house, half in and half out of Winnie's window, just like he hadda do the other night to get to her."

"Now Lee, you know there ain't no love lost 'tween me and colored folks, but laws are laws, and I got to enforce them. If this boy's the one what did that vile sin against the Lord and your girl, he'll pay for it...but through the courts, not s winging from a rafter in your barn."

About then, one of Lee's boys spoke up, "Sheriff Will, I ain't no fancy lawyer or nothing, but laws or no laws, there ain't nobody gonna tell me that courts are for anybody but white folks."

Will just ignored the boy, and walked over to Albert Jenkins. He was scared, that boy, half to death, and shaking like he was freezing in the summer. I guess being on the wrong end of a hanging rope will do it to a fella. Blood was everywhere he wasn't nothing but a dark open sore by this time, a sixteen year old blood and puss sore. His clothes were torn into rags from being drug over the farm, and he might as well have been stark naked for all the covering they gave him.

"Boy."

"Yessir."

"Tell me the truth, boy. What was you doing coming out of Miss Winnie's window like you was?"

"I didn't do nothing to Miss Winnie, sir. She always been good to me, treatin' me nice and all.

"What was you doing coming out of the window, boy?

"I weren't coming out her window, sheriff. I was jes' pokin' my head in to smell the chocolates she's been getting."

Dunsten's oldest boy blurted out then, "You calling me a liar, boy? Sheriff, you ain't gonna take no word of a dark boy over me, are you?"

"Shut up, Lewis," his daddy told him, then back handed him hard across the jaw.

"Will, my boy said he found him coming out Winnie's window, and I believe that's what happened. My boy's word's all the proof I need."

"You ain't the court, Lee."

"You know what the court'll say, Will. There ain't never been a negro jury in this county yet, and ain't no white jury gonna listen to this malarky you've been giving me about laws."

"Maybe so, but you folks pay me to do a job, and by the good Lord, I'm gonna do it the best I can."

Joseph and I got Albert Jenkins, and put him in the car. Will told Dunsten and his boys to get back to the house and stop fooling with the "little nigra boy," and they went, but not without the last word.

"This ain't the end, Will," Dunsten yelled, as he let the screen door slam shut behind him.

You know how some folks just can't leave well enough alone. Well, Lee Dunsten was one of them folks. The whole time we had Albert locked up, Lee and his friends were out raising all kinds of cain 'round and 'round the courthouse and the jail. I still think to this day that old Will put the boy in jail as much to protect him from the Dunstens as for the accusation of rape.

Lee was a deacon down at the Baptist church, but you wouldn't have ever known it by the way he was cussing and carrying on outside. "It's a right fine day for a hanging, sherf," he'd shout 'bout every half hour or so.

Little scrawny Albert was still scared half to death sitting in the cell where we'd put him. So, I'd gone over to help the boy calm down while Will was outside trying to get rid of the Dunstens and their hundred or so friends that had gathered.

"Mr. Deputy, sir."

"Yeah."

"I ain't ready to be no merter yet."

"A merter?"

"Yessir...One of them folks that gets killed for doing nothin' wrong, just mindin' they own business, then right out of the blue somebody wants to kill them for one fool reason or another."

"There's a lot of good company with the martyrs, Albert, but don't you worry none...you ain't gonna die today."

"He's right, that Mr. Dunsten. Ain't no jury gonna believe me over a white boy."

All I could do was nod in agreement with him. Albert Jenkins' eyes were as brown as his skin, maybe browner, and big as baseballs, but when he looked at me full in the face, I saw how pretty they gleamed when they glazed over with the starting of a little tear.

"How come you and the sheriff trying to keep me from 'em, if I'm gonna die anyhow?"

"Boy," I said, "There ain't nobody on God's earth deserves to go out like them Dunstens want to send you."

By now 'bout half the town was outside shouting for the boy to hang. Lee Dunsten had almost started himself an all out riot. Will came back in sometime 'round then wearing a big look of misery.

"Joseph...Get the boy."

"Excuse me, sheriff?"

"Get the boy."

"But they gonna kill him, and he ain't even gone to trial yet."

"I ain't got no time for this, Joseph. Get the boy, now!" Will looked like a man whose whole family had just passed on all at once.

Joseph got up and fetched Albert from the cell, and brought him right up to where Will was.

"Albert, I got something to say to you, and I want you to be a man about it."

"Yessir."

"I don't know if you was the one what raped the girl or no, but out there they say you did. They want you to hang."

"Yessir, I know."

"I tried my best, good Lord have mercy, to keep you safe 'til you could get a trial and a chance."

"Yessir."

"But Heaven above, boy, they just threatened to burn down my jailhouse to get you, even if it means they have to kill me and all my deputies."

Albert didn't say "yessir" then. No, he didn't say nothing. All he did was to spit right in Will Johnson's face. I wanted to spit in Will's face, too.

We tried to talk him out of it, Joseph and I, but in the end, he had his mind all made up. He told us not to get in the way none, else the town would fire us both as deputies.

I ain't never felt so small in all my life, as I did looking on as Albert Jenkins stood there all by himself, 'bout to be strung up an untried man. He didn't cry, but he sure cussed and hollered and kicked and punched and bit when the two oldest Dunsten boys, Lewis and Vincent, came in to fetch him out. They fought with him a good five minutes or so before they could wrestle him to the ground for a chance to tie up his hands and feet. For a scrawny sixteen year old kid, that boy could throw his fist like a trained fighter, and none of us interfered while Lewis and Vincent got a few bruises to carry out with them. But Albert knew he couldn't fight them all day long, and even if he did, there were more than a hundred others waiting outside to come in all at once, so he quit. He just gave up licking them Dunsten boys, and lay there on the floor gawking for breath. Lewis Dunsten came up then and kicked him hard in the stomach. Albert Jenkins coughed and spit blood, then fainted dead away.

The crowd had their fun with the boy, slapping and kicking at him, and taunting with no end of horrible names. I guess they just wanted to make sure he was good and awake before they killed him.

"Devil boy," somebody yelled out, "Black as soot from the Hell pits."

"Ain't never known nothing but stealin' and hurtin' good people."

"Primitive heathens."

Lee Dunsten just took up on that, and sounded like he was making church out of it. "We know, all of us here, that this little Negro had every opportunity to do right." He took care to drag the word Negro out real clear and loud. "He knows what the rules have always been: Don't no black folks associate with no white folks. He was born knowing it, even if we never hadda told 'em. It's inborn, the natural order." People were whooping and hollering like they were at a tent meeting, all stirred up by what Lee was saying. "But now this boy done stepped way over the dividing line. He's gone and done the unthinkable. No self respecting nigger with a brain in his head would force his affection on a tender, young white girl. But let me tell you...this ain't no self respecting boy."

You could have heard that crowd three towns away. Lee's accusation was all the proof they needed that the boy was Winnie's attacker, and they got thirsty for blood. It made you wonder who was really primitive, hearing a whole town yelling out a death chant like they were.

Next thing I knew, they had Albert standing under the oak tree across from the courthouse, and Lewis Dunsten was slipping the rope 'round his neck one more time. It was happening too far away to know for sure, but I swear that the Dunsten boy was grinning from ear to ear as he tightened the rope.

Then, "Crack!" The explosion of gunpowder stood everybody as still as if death had frozen all of them right where they were standing. Sheriff William Emmett Johnson was standing on the front steps of the courthouse with his rifle pointing up at the clouds.

"This ain't court," he shouted to the crowd, "and you ain't the jury what's gonna decide whether or not the boy hangs."

That yelling and screaming lynch mob got quiet right quick, waiting on Lee Dunsten's reaction.

"Sherf, me and all the good folks here aim to see this boy hang, and ain't you or nobody gonna stop us."

"I can't let that happen, Lee."

"Since when have you gone out of your way to protect a..."

Will cut him off with another rifle blast. "Since I believed in the boy's innocence."

"You ain't callin' my boy a liar, are ya, Will?"

"Nope. Just saying he misunderstood the situation as he saw it. It just ain't evidence enough for a hanging."

"We think it is, sherf."

"I'm right sorry to hear that, but I don't reckon it matters much since the police from Pineville are waiting on him to show up at their big, new jailhouse. I just called them, and they said they had plenty of room to hold him 'til his trial."

Lee turned every shade of red in the book, and stormed right up to Will on the front steps. "Will, the boy ain't gonna make it to Pineville..."

"That's obstructing justice, Lee, and that's against the law."

"Fine." He turned and yelled out to Lewis, "Go ahead, boy. This fine lawman of ours wouldn't shoot no white man for giving out justice to a Negro."

Lewis once again tightened the rope, and got ready to dangle Albert. A bullet whizzed by about two feet above his head, and he flinched, but only for a moment.

"You almost scared me, sheriff. I almost thought you were really gunning for me."

He put on a smirk, stepped off of the box, and raised his foot to send Albert swinging out into the air, when the rifle thundered one last time, and Lewis Dunsten fell to the ground like a dove over a hunter's field.

About half the mob screamed while the other half ran off in all different directions. Lee Dunsten didn't do nothing but drop to his knees crying like a newborn. In the confusion, Will picked up the shaken Lee Dunsten, and took him into the jailhouse for being a public nuisance.

Joseph and I made over to where Albert was still standing on the box, terrified. We took the rope off from his neck, and cut it down from the tree as a safeguard. Albert was bleeding pretty bad from the licking he'd taken, and his wrists were cut deep and rubbed raw down to the muscle from the coarse rope. After we cut his wrists loose, and he tried to bring his arms 'round front again, there was a loud scraping noise like bone rubbing bone. The boy was a sore mess with his body covered in blood and bruises and his right arm broken, but he was still breathing, and he wasn't swinging from an oak tree in front of the Cherry Hill Court House.

That, at least, was something.

We carried the poor kid over to the new police car, and then Will Johnson did something I'll never forget. He took off his granddaddy's old confederate shirt, and standing there before God and everybody all bare chested and sweaty, he tore it into three long strips to make a sling for Albert Jenkins' broken right arm. As soon as we'd put him in the car, it wasn't forty seconds before the boy fell straight off to sleep, right peaceful even, all things considered.

Will told us to get in the car, and drive him up to Charleston.

"Charleston, sheriff?"

"Yeah, Charleston. Even if a jury was to find him innocent, folks 'round here wouldn't care a bit. He'd still be in as much danger of hanging as he was before the trial. But in Charleston, he can live...land a job on a ship...sail off a few years. Nobody ever recognizes a man after the sea gets a hold of him. Heck! He don't even have to come back. No, he can make a whole new life. Anything's better than what he'll have waiting here."

"Sheriff, what about them folks up at Pineville? Ain't they gonna be sorely put out when he don't show up?"

"Naw," Will drawled, and started laughing himself sick to tears. "I lied." And he kept on laughing 'til long after we'd headed on up to Charleston.

* * * * * *

"We got Albert a job two days later, broken right arm and all. We waved good bye from the dock as he sailed off to be a cook's assistant aboard Elizabeth's Dream. It was a right odd name for a boat, so we just called it Jenkin's Dream, because of the chance it meant for Albert `cept he wasn't Albert Jenkins no more. Start over, we told him, fresh and clean. And he did. Grover Calvert Williams was the signature he left on the ship's work list.

"He even wrote once or twice, and said he'd married a little French girl, and that they'd moved back to the States...somewhere up North with lots of land and room for a family.

"You know, the Dunstens moved on right after the sheriff let Lee out of Jail. Rumor said they'd moved up to Pineville for a few weeks, then just moved on from there to nobody knows where. Old Will Johnson never got a gold cup for that one, but he sure should've."

I chuckled, and began packing my recorder and notebook away, all the while fighting November's breath as it sought to close the flap of my pack. "Thanks for your time and the story."

"Anytime, anytime at all."

He turned and entered the big screen door going from his porch to the inside of the small house, and I headed for my VW. But before either of us made it to our destinations, he stopped, the door half open, and looked over toward me again.

"Say...Nobody much cares for the old stories anymore. How come you're so interested?"

"Research for my doctorate...race relations in the rural South," I partially lied, and traced the G, C, and W of my grandfather's pocketwatch inside my windbreaker's front pocket.

© Sean Taylor

[anonymous0writer]

The Third Rule II Kiara Carrera

Summary: Kiara is finding it hard to fit in at the Kook Acdemy, but quickly finds solace in the beautiful Sarah Cameron. She finds more than just solace, but when a certain member of the Cameron tribe find out, it scares Kiara away from the people she loves most. Which leads to the third rule of the Pogues pact that begin used.

Author: @anonymous0writer

Word Count: 4,629 (I know, I’m sorry but I’m not sure how I feel about this?? This is probably the longest fic I’ve ever done)

Pairing: Kiara x Sarah, Kiara x Pogues, 

Request: A platonic pogue imagine where kie and rafe have a history. lots of people think they had a past and rafe has a soft spot for her but i think he did something to her/hurt her because of how mad jj was when he called her hot. so i was wondering if u could write an imagine where something bad happens between them during her kook year and then when kie returns to the pogues they find out what happened which sparks the tension between the pogues x rafe?

A/N: I’m sorry it’s 2am and I just finished it and I really want my anon to read this on their trip!! And I’m sorry anon, I just realized my fic isn’t totally based off your request, but I really hope you like it because I’m kinda of proud of it?! Also, Rafe is homophobic towards Kie but I swear it’s only once. Also this blog and myself fully support anyone and would never stand for homophobia. If you do, please get off my blog.

Warnings: Typos probably. Cursing? A homophobic Rafe (we do not agree) and I think that’s it.

Rule Number One: No Pogue on Pogue macking.

Rule Number Two: Never leave a Pogue behind.

Rule Number Three: Pogues= Family. Families love each other no matter what.

Kiara Carrera was a lot of things. Her friends, the group of ragtag boys that somehow roped the girl into their little family, would call her fun. Plain and simple, she fit the word. Fun to be around, fun to hang out with and to cause trouble with. She would weedle free food from her dad and feed them, clean up after them and make sure they kept out of serious trouble. Though Kiara was quite like a mother to the three boys, she was just like them. A surfer through and through, knowing the flick of the waves and the adjustments she needed to make with her board to master them. She also loved the music the boys cared for, and was often called on to DJ their car trips. But most importantly, she would keep up with them.

Kiara matched their energy, and was possibly the only person on the island that could handle them, and all at the same time. She was good with Pope when he talked about his dream job, nodding and keeping pace with the brainiac and able to string together a somewhat intelligent sentence or question to fire back. Kiara was able to keep up with JJ, with his ideas that spun wildly out of control, or the days with his dad. She wasn’t bothered or flustered by his never ending flirts, knowing it was just JJ begin JJ. And she knew John B. Kie could figure out his moods and help him out of the dark places he went to when his father didn’t come back, and she matched his lust for adventure.

To her classmates at the Kook Academy, she was different. Too Pogue to fit in with the pristine halls and designer bags and expensive laptops and gadgets. Sure, Kiara had the money, but that didn’t make her a Kook. Not when all her time was spent on the Cut with the dirty lowlifes nicknamed Pogues. And to Kiara, the money was her parents. If she was asked, she was a Pogue with parents that got money. Which was in part true, her father originally from the south side of the island, which might have sparked Kie’s distinct loyalty to the certain side.

To other Pogues, the other throwaway fish and lowlifes, Kiara Carrera was sun. Bright and cheery, she lit up everything around her. Her straight, easy going smile was infectious, making everyone, no matter what mood give a smile back. She was warm and kind, caring and thoughtful when the Pogues were thought of as rough kids from the wrong side. And her outfits reflected her personality, bright with swirling patterns and stark colors. Her outfits were always envied and her unruly curls were often admired. Kiara was beauty and light in one and often became fast friends with any person who set their feet on Kildare’s sand.

But one thing Kiara Carrera wasn’t, was easy. And no one knew that better than the notorious Rafe Cameron. The Kook was drawn to the newcomer for some reason no one but the universe knew. Not even the boy knew his reasons for attraction to the pogue. It left him utterly confused when he saw the girl in the halls of his gilded house, smiling like there wasn’t a care in the world. But no matter his confusion, his eyes were glued to the girl as she giggled and followed his sister, and his breath left his lungs when she passed him, a soft smile gracing her features as her smell washed over him. The strange girl smelled like coconuts and the sea, which was all the more intoxicating.

Though Kiara Carrera wasn’t easy to win over with his cerulean eyes and his devilish smirk, he didn’t give up. He wanted the challenge of having to work a little harder for a girl. And Rafe Cameron wasn’t one to be refused, and he wasn’t taking no for an answer.

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Kie’s first year at the Kook Academy hadn’t been the picturesque landscape of manicured lawns, pretty and popular students and good grades. While the experience wasn’t the best, it wasn’t the worst and Kie knew that. She also knew that the ‘Kook Academy’ was much better than Kildare County High School and her fussing mother made sure she would never forget it. But as the weeks progressed and Kiara felt increasingly lonely at the school, the girl was finding it hard to appreciate the school.

For one, she was missing her boys terribly. Missed when JJ cracked a joke in the back of the class, his comment made the whole room erupt into a fit of laughter as the aggravated teacher tried desperately to calm the students. She missed the way John B.’s smiles eased her worrying about a test or the way he’d fling notes on her desk as Mrs. Higgin’s droned on. Kiara also missed the way Pope would ramble with his answers, eventually getting too flustered and putting his hand down. She missed the way he’d leave books in her locker, the pages littered with little notes and comments about the passages. But perhaps most of all, Kiara missed the way she was with them. The boys were her true home, not even the comfort of her pillows made her feel as safe and loved as she did when she was hanging out with the three. At lunch, they’d rush out of class, meeting at Kiara’s locker as she took out her lunch, handing JJ her apple, and debating with John B. at which item of her lunch he’d steal today. Pope would grab his own lunch as they bickered and the four made their way to the quad, settling in the grass with their bags. JJ leaned back, a fresh blunt plucked from the waistband of his cargo shorts. Pope took out his books as he tried to take notes but failed miserably as he countered John B.’s B.S and returned conversations. It was impossible for the boy to focus around his friends. Kiara would crack a joke and spread out her healthy alternatives to bad foods and snacked quietly on them while her phone belted out Marley into the grass.

————————

She missed the days JJ wouldn’t be seen in class and would interrupt her classes by poking his head in and saying, “Hey, Kie! Emergency meeting.” And with that, the two slipped away to meet with the other half of their group. The four would move off campus to an abandoned parking lot and smoke and drink their worries away.

But no matter how much Kiara missed her boys, they weren’t going to show up. She was stuck, lost in the gilded halls and drowning in a sea of nasty boys and fake girls. Kiara was desperate to escape but couldn’t find a way to get out. Kiara was ready to give up. On the school, the people and, quite frankly on life.

That is, until she met the famous Sarah Cameron. The blonde practically strode through the halls, her loaded boyfriend and the illustrious Scarlet by her side. Her dazzling smile and pretty brown eyes landed on Kiara. And as soon as Kiara returned the pleasantries, the two became fast friends.

And soon enough, Kiara was invited to the massive Cameron residence. Kiara has already gotten the tour of the property and was following her best friend when she ran into Rafe Cameron. The eldest of Ward Cameron and the famous Kook around the island, known for his suspicious resources when it comes to drugs. Kiara knew the rumors, every one did. But she still smiled and walked right on by, giggling as Sarah held her hand and shut her door.

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Since their unofficial first meeting, Rafe had been persistent. Flirting shamelessly with the girl constantly in his house and ignoring Sarah’s grumbles and mocks. Kiara has refused his advances and shook her head as a little laugh escaped her throat when Rafe asked her out. She had to give it to him, he didn’t give up.

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“Why don’t you want to go out with me?” Rafe asked one day, as the Cameron siblings and Kiara lounged on the deck of the Druthers. Rafe towered over Kiara’s lounge seat, casting a shadow over the girl.

“Rafe, I’m just not into you.”

“Why? Am I just,” He paused, still unwavering from where he stood- much to Kiara’s dislike. “not your type?”

The statement made the girl glance up, the sunglasses perched on her nose sliding down as she looked up at the boy. “I don’t dig blondes, Rafe.”

The elder boy scoffed, but left the conversation as Sarah made her way over, two hard pink lemonades in hand.

“Get lost, loser.” She huffed and Rafe nodded and left. He missed the way his little sister cuddled up against the Pogues side and quietly asked, “You still dig me, right?” The boy also missed Kiara’s immediate reply as she laughed. “Of course I do.” So the Kook walked away, blissfully unaware of what was really unfolding. Kie’s words still rung in his head. But for some reason, he didn’t believe that the only reason the curly haired girl kept turning him down was just because of his hair color.

————————

The next time Rafe asked, he got his real answer. His sister and Kie were getting ready for Midsummer's in the room a couple doors down, their laughter floating through the halls. Rafe listened to the muffled voices of his tongue sister and the girl he’d been strangely pining over for half the school year. They were laughing and Kie’s signature music floated down the hall and into Rafe’s bedroom. Kiara was going as Sarah’s date because she had cheated on her boyfriend again. So the girls decided to couple up.

Sarah leaned forward, the brush coated with soft gold painting swiftly over Kiara’s eyelids. Sarah leaned back and smiled, satisfied with her handiwork. Kie laughed and shoved Sarah’s hip lightly to see herself in the mirror. Sarah grinned and moved so she could continue curling her friend's hair, her hips swaying with the music. Kiara laughed at Sarah’s antics, admiring her in the mirror.

“Beach waves,” Sarah mused, deciding what to do with the front parts of Kie’s hair. “It’d frame your face.” Sarah leaned down, her breath fanning Kie’s ear as the blonde put her hands on Kie’s shoulders. “You’ll look so pretty, baby.”

Kiara beamed at Sarah’s comment, trying to hide her blush. Sarah was a natural flirt, so the fact that she said that wasn’t a surprise, but the pet name made Kie blush. Even in their secret relationship, Sarah hadn’t far breathed a whisper of any affectionate name other than ‘Kie.’ The dark haired girl giggled at her girlfriend and shifted in her seat to crank up the music. Soon the rise and fall of Bob Marley’s voice filling the carefully decorated room. Neither of the girls heard the eldest Cameron shuffle around in his room, his footfalls heavy in the hall as he approached Sarah’s door.

“You could kiss me, you know.” Kie smirked, taunting Sarah with her brows in the mirror. They locked eyes and it was Sarah’s turn to blush, her cheeks already dusted a pink. But she complied, spinning her girlfriend in her chair and pressed a heated kiss to her lips. Kiara hummed and reached up to cup Sarah’s face, not able to hear Rafe as he pushed open the door to his sisters room, a question on his tongue.

“Hey, could you-“ He stopped dead, eyes trained on his sister and the beautiful girl he’d been trying to get, lips locked. “Holy fuck.”

The girls broke apart, eyes wide and mouths popped open in surprise.

“Rafe!” Sarah screamed, rushing forward to push her brother out of her room, hands shoving at his back and slamming- and locking- the door shut.

Rafe stood shell-shocked outside his sister's room, mouth agape. Kiara was kissing his sister. Kiara was gay.

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The three; the two Cameron siblings and the pogue that they practically adopted, didn’t talk about the incident for exactly two days until the subject came bubbling to the surface. And in typical Rafe Cameron style, it was raging and messy.

Rafe glared, eyes trained on Kiara as she giggled at something Scarlet said as they leaned against their lockers. Rafe hadn’t seen Kiara since the incident, ignoring her at Midsummer’s and never coming out of his room the rest of the weekend, but now, Monday morning, he was beyond furious and disgusted. Not only did the girl shoot him down so many times, she lied. Of course he wants her type, he wasn’t even the gender she was attracted to. A shiver ran down the boy's spine as he thought about the curly haired beauty liking- kissing- his sister. He hated it.

“Kiara,” He barked, hand gripping her just above the elbow rather harshly, hard enough to bruise. “We need to talk,” He hissed in her ear as he hauled her away from Scarlet and into an empty classroom.

“Rafe!” Kiara huffed, stumbling into the classroom, free of his death grip. She stared at the boy, wondering briefly if he was high. Rafe Cameron was addicted to the powder he snorted at parties, so it wouldn’t surprise Kiara if his eyes were red and he seemed even more violent than usual. But his eyes were normal, and he seemed fine.. just furious. “What the hell are you on?”

“You're gay.” Rafe spit like it was the foulest word on the planet. Kiara’s eyes went wide. She never said the words out loud, and quite frankly, it scared her a little. With Sarah she didn’t have to hide who she was. But with everyone else, her parents- even the Pogues- she had to hide. But with Sarah it was fun, easy. Sarah got it and Kiara couldn’t think of a better person she wanted to be with.

Kiara fumbled with her words, the infinite possible combinations of words and sentences getting clogged in her throat, so she just stood there, gaping at her girlfriend’s brother as he seethed. Rafe glared, brows slanted over his darkened blue eyes. His eyes reminded Kiara of the waters when a hurricane ripped through them, dangerous and fury born.

“You're disgusting. You turned my sister into one!” He spat, making Kie’s heart clench. This was her nightmare. People finding out and their face recoiling in disgust when they heard the words, “I’m gay.” And maybe that was the reason Kiara never uttered them, not even to herself, perhaps fearful her own face would do the same in the mirror.

But no matter Kiara’s inability to defend herself, she defended the only girl who accepted her as her. Even though her gut pinched at the thought that Rafe looked at different sexual orientations as a ‘disease’ which was nowhere near true, it still hurt nonetheless. “It’s not a bad thing, Rafe. And Sarah’s bi!”

Rafe grimaced, and by the way his face warped, Kiara could tell he didn’t have a clue of what it meant. Kiara swallowed, the sudden fear of Rafe’s knowledge crowding her thoughts. What if he told the rest of the student body? What if he told her parents? What if he told the Pogues? The last thought sent a shiver down her spine. Even though she wasn’t officially out, she didn’t care if the student body found out. Not really. Her fears were about her parents, and if they’d react as badly as Rafe had or worse. But the Pogues? If they acted even a bit like Rafe had, her heart would break and Kiara would lose them. And that thought scares her the most.

So she leaves Rafe, ripping out of the classroom to race toward the bathroom, knowing her tears will spill soon. She cries over the bathroom sink, hands gripping the counter as she sobs. The first period bell rings, but the girl doesn’t trust herself enough to clean up and head to class. Instead she sniffles and glances up at the mirror. By now, her thoughts have turned into horrendous scenarios of the Pogues freaking out, convincing her that the boys aren’t going to accept her. So as she makes eye contact with herself in the mirror, Kiara takes a deep breath; if I leave first, it’ll hurt less.

————————

Kiara was wrong. She couldn’t tell, but it hurt probably even more than if the Pogues left her. She hopes, keeping the flame small, that the three troublemakers will come knocking on her door, asking why she ignored and blew them off for the whole week. But they’ve never set a foot inside her house, and now will not be the time they start. So she locks herself in her room, red eyes and Disney movies on an endless loop to try and block out the pain of letting go of not just the Pogues, but Sarah too.

When Sarah found Kie crying in the bathroom in the middle of the passing period, Kiara couldn’t find the words to tell her that her brother was a homophobic piece of shit that scared the living shit out of her. So she shook her head, passed it off as a mean joke someone said and brushed past her, trying to keep her shaking hands under control as she made her way to class.

But that was a week ago, and Kie’s phone had been blowing up with texts and missed calls on Monday, but slowly tapered off by the time Saturday rolled around. Kiara secretly hoped Sarah would just barge into her room, demanding to know what was wrong and would kiss away her worries, but Sarah wasn’t showing up and the number of missed calls from the blonde had started to dwindle.

But even if Sarah wasn’t a knight in shining armor, someone was.

————————

Kiara glanced up, brows furrowing over her dark eyes as the knock on her door sounded again. Her mom had already come by to try and coax her out of her room for lunch, so it couldn’t be her, the older woman quickly finding it best not to bombard her daughter.

“Kie?”

She would recognize that voice from anywhere. Pope. He’d come to save her, and Kiara’s heart soared at the thought. She clumsily made her way off her bed, knocking off some tissues in the process, but made her way to the door, cracking it open to reveal not only Pope, but all three boys. Kiara’s eyes widened as she took in the boys- her boys. She choked on a sob as she widen the crack of the door, letting the boys shuffle into her spacious room.

“Got a nice place here, Kie.” JJ commented, and Kie was thankful for JJ’s jokes even as her heart throbbed at the sound of his voice.

She really did miss them, and she knew seeing her for the first time in a week like this- dressed in dark blue and white checkered sweats and a white crop top with a wave of messy hair to top it off- wasn’t the best thing. All three of them turned to look at her, and Kiara was hit with the sudden need to apologize.

“I’m so sorry,” She croaked.

Popes dark eyes widened at her exclamation, the first real thing she said to them in almost a week. John B. started, unsure of what to say, but JJ reached out, hands wrapping tightly around his best friend.

“Don’t say that ok? You have nothing to be sorry for.” The blonde murmured, a soft kiss pressed to her hair as he held her. Kiara buried her face in his chest, too overcome with emotion to speak so she cried softly. John B moved quickly to add to the hug and soon, all four of them were in a big group hug.

They pulled back, and Pope slipped his hand in Kie’s to reassure her that he was there as John B. spoke to his movements.

“Kie, we’re always here for you. You know that, right?”

The girl nodded, still unable to meet their gaze. But she sniffled, and nodded, hairs falling into her face as they came loose from her behind her ears. They stood in silence, not knowing where to start with all of this. So Kiara said the thing that started it all.

“I’m gay.”

The words hung in the air untouched before all three spoke at once.

A soft, “Kie, that’s perfectly fine.” came from Pope.

JJ nodded, blonde hair falling into his eyes as he murmured, “That makes so much sense.”

“We support you no matter what.” John B. confirmed with a half smile.

Kie stopped, the responses unlike anything they said in the wicked scenarios in her head. Her mouth popped open into a surprised ‘o’. But her face split into a sad smile as she made eye contact with her friends. At the realization that they supported her and loved her for it, a happy sob bubbles up from her throat. Kie’s dark eyes lit up as she threw her arms around the rest of her heart. They hugged her back, John B’s arm thrown around her shoulders as Pope squeezed her hand and JJ hugged her waist.

“I love you guys,” she sniffled, pulling back with the first genuine smile of that week. They grinned back at her.

“We love ya too, Sunshine.” JJ’s familiar dimpled smile warmed her heart as his hand came up to ruffle her hair affectionately. She missed his smiles and his nickname for her. He called her that since the first hour they met, and it stuck ever since. Kie smiled at the surfer and quietly thanked him.

“Did you really think we were gonna cut you out?” John B asked, his honey colored orbs gazing lovingly down at her. Kie leaned into his chest, his arms tugging her close. “You know we could never do that, bubs.” He soothed, restating his chin on top of her wild curls.

Kiara let her eyes wander to the boy yet to speak. Pope stood there, unmoving as Kie smiled at him until he jumped with a realization. “Oh!” He exclaimed and immediately started patting himself down in search of something. Within the confines of his cargo shorts, Pope pulled a tiny book with a worn cover but displayed it with pride, extending it to his friend. “Here, for you.” When Kie sent him a questioning look as she took it, Pope rambled on. “A recent poem book I read. And I.. well I pretended to be JJ when I wrote notes in it.”

Kie’s laugh was sudden and stark, but made Pope grin at her reaction and the other two boys smile at the happy sound. In the beginning, when Pope first gave Kiara a book he read and thought he’d enjoy and she returned it with lightly written notes about passages on it, Pope immediately started the tradition of giving Kiara a new book with his thoughts every month. And as Kie would go through the chapters she’d write her own thoughts and then discuss them with the boy. But once Kie placed the book down in front of him as they hung out at the Chateau, brows furrowed in confusion. “What is this?” She asked, pointing to the notes Pope made in the top corner. Confused as to why she was asking, Pope leaned forward and reread the note, laughing. “Oh, well, I had a thought about JJ reading the book and figured to do the whole book like JJ wrote it.” So it then became an inside joke between the two.

Kie flips the book in her hands, fingertips tracing the outlines of the small cover. She particularly loves the months where Pope gives her poetry books because partly, he gives her a new collection on them each week because she goes through them fast and secondly, because poems are her favorite. She admires the slightly yellow pages and the soft sketch of Pope’s handwriting.

“Thanks Pope. I love it,”

She closes her eyes and feels at rest- almost. She finally got her boys back. Kiara finally got home. Back in the arms of the three boys who hold her heart equally. So she agrees when John B. gestures to the screen displaying the laziest Disney movie she watched- Beauty and the Beast- and suggests a movie marathon. Except JJ somehow got a hold of the remote as they climbed onto her bed and settled in. The surfer quickly changed the theme from Disney Princess to Horror Night. Pope rolls his eyes and John B. cheers as Kie gasps at the choice he made. It’s ‘Silence of the Lambs’, old but still a classic that’s not too scary for Kie and one of her favorites. The four friends curled up and soon they were too invested in the movie to remember why they were even here in the first place. Kie smiled and admired her friends, grinning as JJ caught her eye and winked. She was back home.

But there was one thing left unsolved: Sarah Cameron.

————————

The Cameron residence never seemed so daunting as it did right now, looming above Kiara in its glimmering windows and architectural beauty. Kiara swallowed, knowing no one but the girl she loved was home but still getting anxious when she thought about the boy who lived under this roof.

The doorbell rang twice before the grand doors cracked up as Sarah answered it. Sarah opened the door with a bounce in her step but stopped as she lay eyes on who rang her doorbell. Her throat went dry and her mouth fell open. Kiara admired her girlfriend- unsure of the title they still had- who was dressed in white shorts and a pale blue tank top of Kie’s that had three small hearts in the middle. She was gorgeous.

“Kie?”

“Hi,” Kiara swallowed unsure of how to proceed. “We need to talk.”

Sarah nodded, wordlessly opening the door wider to allow entry to the dark haired girl of her dreams. Sarah had been lost without her girlfriend. Kiara seemed to drop off the face of the earth after Sarah found her in the bathroom. The blonde called countless times, but each ‘Hi! This is Kiara! You know what to do!’ broke her heart a little more. Sarah couldn’t tell you how many times she showed up outside of the Carrera house, hand poised to knock only to have her doubts make her turn back. Sarah was deathly afraid she’d done something to Kiara unknowingly, but after her brother spat in her face about her preference of lovers, she understood exactly what happened. Which is why when Kie stepped into her foyer, she blurted,

“I’m so sorry about my brother,”

Kiara was taken aback by the outburst, but glanced down at her feet quickly before nodding and meeting Sarah’s sadden gaze.

“I’m sorry too. I should’ve told you right away, I just-“ Kiara struggled with the words, shrugging slightly. “I was scared and was so stupid to push you away.”

Sarah took a tentative step forward, aching to touch the breathtaking girl before her. She smiled softly. “I needed you and you pushed me away,” It was true, Sarah struggled about her sexual orientation and how and if she wanted to come out. And she needed Kie there, but the girl had refused to answer. “But I need to know you won’t do that again if I’m going to let you back in.”

Both girls knew that Sarah was gonna accept her back with open arms either way but Kiara nodded, stepping so they were toe to toe.

“I promise I won’t ever do that again.” She whispered, voice a little broken as she pressed her forehead against the blondes.

And with that, Sarah surged forward, lips attaching to a Kie’s in a loving apology from both sides. And within the kiss, Kie found herself truly at peace.

————————

Tag list

All: @jayjaymaebank​ @rudys-pankow​ @maaybanks​ @everydayimfangirling​ @outrbank​ @thelocalpogue​ @lyricalimerence​ @ahhireallydontknow​ @never-ever-too-many-fandoms​ @kylosleftbuttcheek​ @insanitysparkles @mcarignan​ @copper-boom​ @haharudy​ @x-lulu​ @pit-zuh​ @socialwriter​ @alwaysasadaesthetic​ @jjmaybanqs​ @magnuolia @bellaguarneri​ @diverdcwn​ @diverrdown​ @drewswannabegirl​ @drew-starkey​ @mahleeyuh​ @divcrdown @youfookendonut​ @dpaccione​ @starkeymarkey​ @outerbanksbro​ @jjs-housekeeping​ @teenwaywardasgardian​ @traumaflavouredjuulpod @ad-infinitums​

Kiara, Rafe, Sarah & Pogues: @talksoprettyjjx​ @manicmee​ @notaninstagrammodel​ @oxmaddy​ @obx-direction-sos​ @newhopenessie​ @alternativehp​ @obxmxybxnk​ @sarapage89 @emsma11 @fangirlvoice​ @danicarosaline​ @timmyswrld​ @gmwlover100​ @bxbyyyjocelyn​ @teamnick​ @jjmbanks​ @thesurfingsnail @lulubutton34​ @obxsummer​ @katiaw2 @yeehaw87​ @poguecollins​ @jessica-1120 @yxseminx​

[revengeoftheantichrist]

What Kind of Man

Warnings: Possessive behaviour

AO3  <<<Previous

Chapter 10: Letters

You were surprised at how hungry you were just from sitting for a portrait. Almost every hour you got up to stretch your legs and eat something.

Richard had finished the sketches and thumbnails by 7 pm, not needing you for anymore sittings. You had tried to catch a glimpse of the work, but Michael insisted that you only see the complete image once it was finished.

“Do you already have a portrait Michael?” you asked, curious as to why you didn’t get one together.

“I do, that’s why I wanted one of you to match, they’ll be put next to each other,” he smiled at you, kissing your hand.

Mrs Mead brought your dinner out, you ate it faster than Michael ate your cakes. You swallowed your last bite and wiped your lip, “Why didn’t we get one together?”.

“We will my love, in the spring where the flowers are staring to bloom, and the leaves are at their greenest. We’ll get one to symbolise new life then.”

You were satisfied with his answer, waiting on tea and cakes.

////

The next day, Michael had errands to run in the nearby town. It seemed that your own sickness had retuned, vomiting the contents of your stomach as soon as you had opened your eyes that morning. You must have eaten too much the day before. Despite the state you were in, you decided to go with him, wanting to see more of the county you were technically responsible for, you were a Countess after all.

The carriage ride wasn’t long, half-an-hour at most. The weather was clear, a cloudless sky above you. The townspeople seemed a little wary around your husband, stepping out of the way and avoiding eye contact. This troubled you. But then again, you knew nothing about the relationship between a Count and his people. You took in your surroundings as you walked towards the Langdon family’s Lawyer and Accountant, Mr Nutter and Mr Pfister. Your impression of the pair was not too great, vaguely remembering your awkward interaction at the midsummer ball. It seemed that their habit of leering hadn’t changed.

“It’s made our week now that you’ve brought your beautiful bride with you,” said Jeff.

“Don’t you both have children to get home to,” you spat back, not knowing what had come over you to speak in such a manner. Michael only laughed at your response, not giving any indication of being displeased at your sudden outburst.

He held out his wallet, “There’s a lovely market in the town square today, Jim will take you and I’ll come find you after I’m done,” he instructed.

You nodded and thanked him, taking the wallet. You did not want to spend any more time near those two.

You were greeted by Jim when you left the building. He started to lead the way to the market, and you got a closer look at his face.

“Jim? What happened to your eye?” you asked. The area around his eye was scarred, as if it had been burned. The eye itself was a dead white colour, it was no longer the blue ocean it used to be.

He turned his head away. “There was … an accident with a fire in the stables… I couldn’t turn away in time,” he explained.

“Does it hurt?”

“Not anymore, I’m fine as long as I can still see out of the other,” he finished. You guessed he didn’t want to go any further. The sky seemed to cloud up at the end of your conversation.

You had arrived at the market. It was slightly bigger than the one your own village had; you missed it dearly. You smiled and said your ‘good afternoons’ getting lost in what the market had to offer.

You reached the flower stall, just wanting to take a look.

“I neve thought I’d be visited by the countess herself,” said the florist.

“Oh I hope I’m not intruding,” you replied. Small purple flowers caught your eye. You hadn’t seen them in the garden before.

“If I were you my Lady, I’d take some verbena flowers with me and keep them with me at all times.”

“I’ve never seen them before. What are they for?”

The florist looked around, before wrapping a bunch and holding them out to you. “They are said to protect from evil, you never know when you’ll encounter the devil,” he whispered.

You moved to pay him. “Please, these are a gift from me. I won’t take that man’s money. But My Lady, Please, get as far as you can,” the florist finished, quickly moving onto the next customer and leaving you confused.

You couldn’t give the interaction too much thought before Jim came to get you, leading you to the carriage where Michael was waiting.

“Out of all the things the market had to offer, you found the smallest flowers to waste my money on. They might as well be weeds,” Michael complained.

“Oh stop being childish, I like them, they’re delicate,” you chided.

“I hate the smell,” he scooted away from you. You just shook your head. The nausea from earlier beginning to creep up again.

////

You chose to spend the rest of your day in your old refuge, the library. The sky was grey, no longer the bright blue it had been earlier. You chose a few books to press your new flowers in, hoping to use them as a reference for your embroidery piece.

You liked to find a new nook or cranny to read in, preferring the comfort of a confined space. You found a space in the far corner of the library, bringing candles for when it inevitably got dark and your embroidery, to give you a variety of ways to spend the time.

You got settled into your seat, getting lost in the book. You moved to adjust your head, your neck getting sore from the position you were in. As you moved, you heard the wall ‘click’ behind you, your head abruptly falling back into a newly revealed alcove. What on earth was this?

You moved onto your knees to look behind you. A little piece if the wall had slid out, revealing a secret cavity in the wall. It was only as deep as the bookshelves that surrounded you. There was only one thing in there.

A small wooden box.

Why was it hidden in here?

You knew you wouldn’t be disturbed for another hour, so you allowed your curiosity to get the best of you. Elizabeth’s words echoed in your head.

You pulled the box out. It was simple, no decoration or carving on it. There wasn’t even a lock. You slowly lifted the lid, holding your breath at what you may find. A look of confusion washed over you.

Envelopes.

It was a box full of envelopes.

Your fingers twitched and you pulled one out. The letter was addressed to ‘Madame Cordelia’ at ‘Académie Robichaux’ in Paris. You were more confused than you were before. The letter never reached its destination as it was still sealed. The wax seal matching the signet ring Michael had gifted to you, the same seal your letters were sent with.

Your hands shook as you opened the letter, dreading to see what you would find inside.

‘ Ms. Cordelia

Please, I beg of you. I need a reply. I need your help. How many more of these should I send for you to take me seriously, for you to stop ignoring me. You always asked what kind of man he was. We were wrong, I was wrong. He is no man. He is a monster, a beast. And he’ll kill me. Please please please send a priest for me. I fear I do not have much longer.

Madison’

Your breathing became erratic and you could taste the bile. You frantically looked through the box. All letters addressed to Robichaux. All unsealed. The handwriting getting more frantic on each envelope.

The last one was just addressed ‘Cordelia’. No address, no destination.

‘This is my final letter. I have lost too much blood. I will not survive the night. You cannot save me. Save the next one. He chants her name and spends hours with her picture, like a devotee at a temple, a fanatic. He said she will be successful. He’s hungrier than ever now, I can no longer satiate him. Saver her. Save Y/N

Madison’

You were in danger. You could feel it. You knew then that your own letters didn’t reach your mother.

You couldn’t dwell on it too long, the opening of the library door pulling you out of your thoughts. You scrambled to put the box away, sliding the façade back in place, hoping the click wasn’t loud enough to alert the intruder.

“My Lady? Are you alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost?”

Next>>>

[frankterranella]

County fairs -- a throwback to a simpler time

This week I took a trip back in time. Back to a time when New Jersey was truly the Garden State. It was just a short drive to the northwestern part of the state. But entering the Sussex County Fair, where agriculture is still king, was an amazing adventure. And not just for me. My daughter Jennifer and my grandson Giovanni accompanied me as we visited a land where prime livestock still compete for blue ribbons, and the cuisine is fried everything.

Gio loved seeing so many animals in one place. County fairs pack in scores of rabbits, sheep, chickens, goats and cows all in their separate barns. Gio wanted to pet them all despite warnings on many of the stalls that said "I bite" or "I eat fingers." There were demonstrations of cow milking and sheep shearing, and in the equestrian area, suitably attired riders put horses through their paces. Gio also loved the display of farm equipment. He got up into the driver's seat of a tractor as if he had been born on the farm.

To a city person, going to the county fair is akin to visiting the land of Oz. The feeling is "Toto, I don't think we're in Camden any more." There's lots of hay around, and that livestock smell that somehow beats out the smell on the A Train. But most of all, there's a sense of the life we have lost in the past century and a half. It was a hard life. That's why so many people left it for a job in the city. But it seems to me there was a peace in living off the land in harmony with nature. There was a sense of accomplishment in raising crops that fed, and wool that clothed the rest of the country. I admire these people -- those who did it years ago and those who still eke out a living doing it today.

People from other states would probably be amazed to see all this agriculture in New Jersey. If you live in Iowa you probably don't think there's 4H in New Jersey. But not only is there 4H, there are lots of cornfields. The Sussex County ballpark is in the middle of one. Take that Dyersville, Iowa.

When I was a boy, it was common to see farmlands within 20 miles of New York City. And on the road in front of these farms were farmstands where you could buy fruits and vegetables that were picked just hours earlier. You could see the corn or tomatoes growing in fields nearby. Those farms and farmstands today are replaced by split-level homes, malls and condo developments. Now, most suburbanites see produce only at the supermarket. And that's a bit sad. There has been an effort in recent years to have famer's markets in our cities to replace the farmstands that used to dot the countryside. But it's not the same buying a head of lettuce at a farmer's market in a parking lot as it was buying it within sight of the lettuce crop in the field with the smell of fertilizer in your nose. We can buy peaches now, but the peach groves are gone from suburbia.

Of course, everything was not rainbows and unicorns on the farms. There is a culture of agriculture that breeds individualism over community values. People who farmed had to be self-sufficient. Relying on others was a luxury they could not afford. By contrast, city people learned to value working together with others to make city life bearable. There is whole lot more "for the greater good" thinking in the city that isn't required on the farm. City people rely on government services such as police and fire departments in a way that is not feasible in rural areas. This has led to two Americas, one that embraces government and one that fears it. It's often hard to compromise when your cultures are so different.

Still, I admire the courage of people who choose to live off the land. I think there's a dignity to family farming that we are losing. That's why it's good to visit a county fair and see in action the people who are heirs to this tradition. And just for a day, city people can experience a piece of America that sadly is fast disappearing.

[crocodilenialledfics]

story page // masterlist // wattpad

join the taglist

nine: going off the rails  

word count: 4210

warnings: contains swearing, mentions of violence, sexual content, and drug use

“I want to start by saying that you’re not in trouble, Ms. Civella,” he said. “We just want to get to the bottom of this. Don’t you think Mario deserves some justice?”

“I guess,” Rosalind nodded. “I didn’t kill him. You think I did but I didn’t. I have an alibi.”

“And what would that be?” Falco asked, the tone in his voice almost didn’t believe it.

When Niall told Rosalind that he’d take care of everything, he meant it. Wholeheartedly. Early the next morning, he burned the files and pictures and every shred of evidence he had in his closet. 

While he watched Rosalind’s life go up in flames, he had Lewis meet him behind the casino. It was all very discrete. 

“Capaldi,” Niall said, eyes glued on the fire in front of them. “I need a favor.”

“Sure,” Lewis responded with a nod. 

“Rosalind’s brother,” he began slowly, eyes finally looking over to him. “Needs to disappear.”

“Can I ask why?” Lewis asked, eyebrows furrowing. “You know I’ll do it but I’m just confused why her men won’t do it.”

“It’s a long story,” Niall told him, reaching into his jacket to pull out an envelope. “Twenty now, twenty later. You know the drill.”

“Alright,” Lewis sighed, taking the money. “When?” 

“The sooner the better,” Niall told him. “It has to look like an accident and he probably has eyes on his house. Go in the back of the apartment. Can be like a robbery or something. Steal his tv or some shit.”

“You want me to take care of the body?” Lewis asked, shifting on his feet. 

“Nah,” Niall shook his head. “Let the police find him. Fuckin’ piece of shit.”

“Sure thing, boss,” Lewis nodded, shoving the envelope into his back pocket. “I’ll do it tonight. Soon as it gets dark.”

“I appreciate it,” Niall told him, pulling a cigarette out of his pocket, lighting it slowly. “Call me when it’s done.” 

Lewis and Niall parted ways. Niall got back into his car, driving back to his apartment. It wasn’t a surprise that Rosalind was still there. He saw her shoes at the door, and the dark of his room. Niall slid his own shoes off, checking the time. It was nearly eight. Usually Rosalind was up and out by the time the sun rose. 

Niall was greedy, crawling back into bed. He wrapped his arms around her bare waist, nose pressed against her neck. Rosalind stirred softly, humming quietly, “where’d you go?” 

“Business things,” he told her, tightening his arms around her waist. He didn’t get very many mornings with her so this one he’d savor every lasting second. 

“Should’ve been gone by now,” Rosalind told him, tangling her legs between his. 

“It’s too late for you to sneak out,” Niall murmured, pressing a kiss to her neck, exhaling against her skin. She smelled like his bedsheets. That was something he had to be proud of. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Rosalind mumbled, rolling herself onto her other side, draping her leg over Niall’s hip. 

“Roz, baby,” Niall whispered, pushing his fingers through her hair. “Hate it when you leave me in the morning.”

“I’m a busy woman,” Rosalind shrugged, looking up at him. 

“Too busy for morning sex?” Niall asked, eyebrows raising. “Unheard of.”

Rosalind laughed, rolling her eyes. “How presumptuous. You think you’re getting morning sex today?” 

“Come on,” Niall smiled, hand smoothing over her thigh. “You put this leg on me. I know I’m getting morning sex today.” 

“Smart guy,” Rosalind smiled, fingers sliding over the collar of his t-shirt. “Your odds seem pretty good if you ask me.”

“Just how good we talkin?” Niall asked. He knew he was teasing, wanting her to tell him more, confess everything she was feeling. He couldn’t care when he was looking down at her, warm cheeks from sleep and messy hair. It drove him absolutely crazy. 

“Kiss me and you’ll find out,” Rosalind shrugged, eyelashes fluttering as she looked up at him. 

So Niall kissed her, gripping her hips. Rosalind was on him in a second, kissing him like her life depended on it. Niall ran his hands down her hips and over her pantie-clad butt, grinding her hips against his. 

Niall was already half hard, well on his way by the way Rosalind kissed him. She tangled her hands into his hair, pulling gently. Niall let out a groan against her lips. 

“Come on,” Rosalind murmured against his lips, rolling her hips against his. She worked down his body, kissing at his neck and Niall was gone. She gripped his hair pulling his head to the side to suck bruise to his neck. 

“Fuck,” he whispered, already lost his breath. “Roz, baby.”

“Think you can get off like this?” Rosalind asked, nosing along his jaw. 

“Yes,” Niall chuckled, squeezing her hips. “Doesn’t mean I want to, though.”

Rosalind’s hips stilled and she let go of his hair. She sat back on her haunches, looking down at him. “And what is it that you want? How can I make you happy? My only desire in life is to make you happy. Please, Niall, tell me how I can do that?”

“I know you’re takin the piss,” Niall laughed, taking in the sight of her. Outspread legs, the weight of her on his thighs. 

“I might be,” Rosalind smiled. After a moment her smile faltered and she looked away from him. 

“What is it?” Niall asked. 

Rosalind laid down beside him, talking to the ceiling when she said, “I want to disappear.” 

Niall didn’t answer her, eyes glued to the side of her face. Rosalind let out a breath, “just like to run away. Never to be seen again.” 

Niall hummed, “I know the feeling.” 

“Sometimes I think of how many people I’ve hurt. Families who I’ve taken men from, lives I’ve completely destroyed over some fuckin’ money and it just...” she trailed off. “Makes me sick.” 

“Do you want out?” Niall asked her. 

“I don’t know,” Rosalind mumbled, reaching up to rub her eyes. “I’m just fuckin’ exhausted. The thought of working today makes me nauseous. Going home makes me nauseous. I don’t know.”

Niall didn’t know what she wanted from him. He knew, just looking at her, he’d give her everything she asked for and everything she didn’t. 

“What stops you from leaving?” Niall asked after a long moment of silence. 

“Dunno,” she mumbled, pushing the hair from her face. “You.” 

“Well maybe I’d go with you,” Niall told her, his own eyes on the ceiling now. “For the fuck of it.”

Rosalind hummed at that, fingers winding themselves into the sheets. It sounded like an alternate reality straight out of her own mind. Niall and her running away together, never seen or heard from again. The idea filled her with the comfort she now knew that she needed. 

“I don’t think we’d make it out alive,” Rosalind told him. “Don’t think we’d make it out of New York before the shit hit the fan.”

“I told you everything’s taken care of,” Niall added. “Don’t have fo worry about anything.”

“But the shit I’ve done?” Rosalind echoed, almost incredulous. “It’s a miracle I’ve made it this fucking long.” 

“The evidence is gone,” Niall told her. “I talked to a guy up at county and he heard about a whole drawer of evidence just disappeared. No one fucking knows what happened.”

“Even still,” Rosalind conceded, looking over at him. “Would you really do it? Run away with me?” 

Niall took a moment to think about it. His mind raced. What would he give to have Rosalind to himself, forever- or at least the foreseeable future. Leave the business behind? His family? All of it? 

“Yeah,” Niall answered, finally meeting her eyes. Because that was the hold Rosalind had on him. No matter what she gave him, he always wanted more.  

“Something to think about, then,” Rosalind concluded. “Lots of planning.”

Niall hummed in agreement, eyes back on the ceiling. He let out a breath, running his fingers through his hair. “You gonna work today?” 

“Dunno,” Rosalind responded, a distance to her voice that wasn’t there before. 

Niall wondered how they’d gone from hot and heavy to the tense air around them. He could tell she was up in her head by the way she chewed on her bottom lip, biting at her skin. Niall rolled over onto to his side to face her. He pulled her bottom lip from her teeth, almost forcing her eyes on him. 

“I feel weird,” Rosalind told him, unprompted. “Out of place.” 

Niall wondered if it was because they didn’t spend the mornings together. Or because of everything that has happened. Niall didn’t ask her to describe it, though. He pushed her fingers through her hair and watched the way her eyelids fluttered. 

He was no genius but he could read Rosalind’s face like no one else. Niall pulled her in, wrapping his arms around her. Rosalind exhaled, eyelids closing as she settled against his chest. 

Niall’s fingers ran through her hair a million times until Rosalind was asleep again, cheek against his t-shirt clad chest. And then Niall was sure. The most sure that he’s ever been. He loved Rosalind with every fiber in his being. 

It wasn’t enough that he’d die for her, most strongly, he’d live for her. Carry on through the worst days, the most horrible things a person could imagine just to spend a moment longer with her. That’s what he’d tell her, eventually, when she was ready to hear it. 

The minutes stretched on until Niall was falling asleep too, heavy eyelids as he stared at the ceiling. He’d dream about them running away because now he couldn’t stop thinking about it. What it’d mean. If Rosalind ran away with him, surely it would mean that she loved him. 

Niall had gotten good at spotting Rosalind’s hidden feelings. She loved in quiet. It was the smile, he realized. And her eyes. A dead giveaway. To him, anyways. Maybe everyone else could see it written on her face too. 

For a moment Niall imagined a world where no one could get hurt if they were in love. No harm could come their way. He wished it on Rosalind. Maybe he wished it on himself too with the hope that Rosalind loved him. 

Their sleep lasted only an hour. They were awoken to Rosalind’s phone ringing from the bedroom floor. Rosalind pulled herself from Niall’s arms, reaching down to grab it. She put it to her ear, sitting up. “Hello?” 

“Roz.” It was Maria. 

“Yeah?” Rosalind answered. 

“The cops are here. At the shop,” Maria told her. “They’re um looking for you. Mario is dead. They found him this morning. A gunshot to the head.” 

“What?” Rosalind asked, eyes flicking to Niall. He sat up, eyebrows furrowed. “Are you serious?” 

“Yeah,” maria breathed out. “They’re talking about getting warrants for-for your house and maybe here. I don’t know,” maria cried. 

“Okay I’ll- just tell them that I’m coming down. On my way as we speak,” Rosalind murmured, pushing the covers off of her. She tossed the phone on the bed, shaking her head. 

“What is it?” Niall asked. 

Rosalind slid out of bed, grabbing her t-shirt from the floor. She gave Niall a glare, the kind that would kill. “What happened?” Niall urged. 

“That fuckin-“ Rosalind cut off with a groan. “Fuck!” She yelled, grabbing her jeans. “Do you even listen to anything I say?” She demanded. 

“Of course I fuckin listen to you!” Niall exclaimed. “Just tell me what’s going on,” he demanded, watching her tug her jeans on in a way that was more than threatening. 

“Oh I don’t know,” Rosalind laughed dryly, grabbing her phone from the bed. “Mario’s fuckin’ dead. Shot in the head. The police are at the shop asking for me because of course I’m the suspect. Some would go so far as to say the prime suspect.” 

“And you think I did it,” Niall concluded, nodding his head. 

“Coincidentally, you took care of some business this morning,” Rosalind shot back. “I’m so fuckin pissed I need to get out of here,” she shook her head. “Where’s my gun?” 

“In the living room,” Niall sighed, rubbing his forehead. 

“If I find out you did this,” Rosalind warned, eyes narrowing at him. “This shit between you and I. Over. Do you fucking hear me?” 

“I didn’t do it!” Niall yelled, pushing the covers off of him. “Do you wanna know where I was? Do you really want to fucking know?” 

“No I don’t,” Rosalind snapped. “Because I don’t care. I’ve got shit to deal with. If all goes well, I’ll probably use the one phone call I get in jail to call you just to say fuck you, you fuckin asshole!” 

Niall watched Rosalind leave, phone already up to her ear. She was out of his apartment in record time, slamming the door behind her. Niall sat back in bed, rubbing his forehead. He took a second to breath, before picking up his own phone. 

Rosalind was convinced that Niall had done it himself. It went against everything she’d told him. While she drove, she tried to push the thoughts from her head. She was so angry her hands shook if she loosened her grip on the steering wheel. 

When Rosalind got to the shop, she saw the police car out front. She took a breath, rubbing her eyes. They stung for reasons she wasn’t ready to unpack yet. Rosalind stepped out of the car just in time for Luca to pull in beside her. 

He had an equally as angry look on his face. He greeted Rosalind with a nod, tossing his half smoked cigaret on the ground. “Fuck is going on?”

“I have no idea,” Rosalind mumbled, glancing around. “I didn’t set it up.”

“Who did?” Luca asked, eyebrows furrowing. 

Rosalind shrugged her shoulders, nodding toward the door. “I don’t know,” she repeated, the anxiety burning in her stomach. She felt like was walking into her own death. A slow and painful one that she had to do herself. 

Luca went into the shop first. Rosalind’s feet were heavy but she made it. Maria was talking with the officers. She was less than surprised to see Detective Falco standing with them, arms crossed over his chest. 

“Ah, Ms. Civella,” Falco said, looking her up and down. “Just the person we were looking for.”

“I presume Maria has filled you in,” the officer began, pulling out his notepad. “I was wondering if you could tell us where you were from 7pm last night to 8am this morning?” 

“Can we do this down at the station?” Rosalind asked, shifting on her feet. 

“Roz what the fuck,” Luca whispered, eyebrows raising because who in their right mind would elect to be interrogated. 

“I just...” Rosalind trailed off. “It’s better to do it there. Give Maria a break she’s probably got tons of shit to do.”

“Roz,” Maria began but Rosalind shook her head gently. 

“It’s better this way,” Rosalind nodded, voice raw. 

“If you insist,” the officer nodded, exchanging a glance between the two other men. 

Rosalind felt the air leave her body when she sat down in the back of the police car. It wasn’t real, she kept telling herself but it was all very real. Every second of it was real and she was acutely aware of it all. 

Rosalind’s mind blurred as she walked through the police station, eyes focused on the floor. Falco’s hand on her back, guiding her toward his desk. It was enough to make her want to vomit. 

“Can I have a cup of coffee?” Rosalind asked, sitting down in a chair. 

Falco nodded to someone behind her and she had half a mind to look but she didn’t, eyes glancing up at him as he sat down in his chair. 

“I want to start by saying that you’re not in trouble, Ms. Civella,” he said. “We just want to get to the bottom of this. Don’t you think Mario deserves some justice?” 

“I guess,” Rosalind nodded. “I didn’t kill him. You think I did but I didn’t. I have an alibi.”

“And what would that be?” Falco asked, the tone in his voice almost didn’t believe it. 

“I was with Niall. Horan,” Rosalind told him. “I didn’t want to say anything because that’s not something I’d fucking announce to everyone in my family. We were together all last night and this morning.”

“And he can corroborate that?” Falco asked. 

“Yes,” Rosalind nodded, rubbing her palms over her thighs. “Do you think I’d actually kill my own brother?” 

“The last encounter I had with him, he said that he thought you knew he made a deal with us,” Falco told her, shrugging. “So you’d have motive. I don’t know.”

Rosalind had so many things she wanted to say to him. The words were on the tip of her tongue but she held it in, white knuckling it. An officer set a cup of coffee down in front of her and Rosalind felt a little relief. 

“I’m going to call Mr. Horan,” Falco said, reaching for his phone. “Just for the fun of it. See if he’ll come down for a chat. In the mean time, one of these lovely officers is going to take you to one of our... conference rooms.” 

“An interrogation room,” Rosalind corrected him. “And if I think for a second that you’re accusing me of killing my own fucking brother I’m getting a goddamn lawyer.”

“Noted,” Falco smiled, nodding his head. 

An officer came up beside her, guiding her the interrogation room. Rosalind sat down with her coffee, rubbing her eyes. She was strung out, exhausted from the thoughts racing through her mind. 

Rosalind would lie for him, she decided, not even hesitating. She hoped he knew that. He had to of. The whole ‘I would die for you’ was heartfelt and as literal as she could get. 

Detective Falco came in, moments later, sitting down across from her. “Mr. Horan is going to come down. Make a statement. Can you tell me what you were doing last night?” 

“Jesus,” Rosalind muttered, rubbing her forehead, “Okay. Let’s see I got to Niall’s apartment around six last night. We got takeout from some Chinese place I don’t know the name of. We had a couple drinks, went to bed.” 

“In that whole time neither one of you left?” He asked. “You can say with one hundred percent confidence that you were with him in that whole time.” 

“Yes,” Rosalind nodded, picking up her coffee. She took a sip, very slowly setting it down. 

“Can I ask when this affair with Mr. Horan began?” Falco asked. 

“No you cannot,” Rosalind answered, not skipping a beat. “Considering that it’s none of your business what my affairs with Mr. Horan are. They don’t pertain to this fucking murder either.”

“I’ll decide what pertains to this murder,” Falco demanded. 

“Right right,” Rosalind laughed. “Hey I was wondering if you’ve heard anything about the man that shot me? You know you came by once when I was in the hospital, took statements and then never fucking came back. Did ya catch the guy? Give me some fucking justice?” 

“We’re here to discuss the murder of your brother. Mario Civella. If you’d like to talk about your open case, perhaps we can find another time to chat,” Falco told her, eyes glued to hers. 

Rosalind nodded, sitting back in her chair. Falco handed her a sheet of paper and a pen. “I’d like you to fill this out. If your story aligns with Niall’s I don’t see why you won’t be able to go about your... affairs.” 

Rosalind didn’t respond, eyes glancing over the statement sheet he’d given her. She spared Falco one last look before he walked out. Anxiety rushed through her as the door closed. She prayed to the gods above that Niall was on the same page as her. 

No matter how angry Rosalind was at the things Niall did, she’d go up in flames for him. So when she wrote down her statement just as she’d told Falco, it was a lie and that was punishable by law but it’d hurt her more to see him go down for murder. The murder of her brother, no less. 

To her knowledge, though, Niall was with her the whole time. She’d plead the fifth, she decided, finishing up her statement. She put her pen down, sliding it across the table. 

The time moved slowly but it could’ve been her nerves bubbling inside of her. She didn’t appear nervous but her mind was racing and she had cold sweats. Her heartbeat was in her ears. 

If she made it out of this alive, she swore she was leaving. Disappearing and forgetting it all. She swore, eyes slipping shut as she let out a deep breath. 

In a miracle, the door opened back up and an officer nodded toward the door. “You’re free to go. Alibi checked out. Falco says he’ll be in touch.”

Rosalind pushed her way past him, feeling like her legs were jello. She made her way through the maze that was the police station and out into the parking lot. Niall was waiting for her, leaning against the car. He had his phone pressed to his ear, a cigaret between his fingers. 

Rosalind just barely made it to the passenger seat when she felt the nausea become too much. She doubled over, nearly falling to her knees as she threw up what little she had in her stomach. 

“Fuck,” she heard Niall say from the other side of the car. And then his hand on her back, scooping her hair back. “What the fuck, Rosalind,” he muttered. “Pull your fucking shit together.”

Rosalind blinked the tears from her eyes, remembering the anger she had for him just building. She wiped her mouth on the back of her hand, straightening up. She pushed Niall’s hand away, opening the car door. 

Niall got in the drivers seat, shaking his head as he started the car. “I didn’t kill him,” Niall told her, putting the car in reverse. “And it pisses me off that you think I did.”

“Timeline matches up,” Rosalind responded, eyes glued to the window, watching as Brooklyn passed by them. 

“Okay,” Niall answered slowly. “I left the apartment around seven. Burned the files like I said I fucking would and then Lewis met me to discuss a business deal.”

“If that’s the story you’re sticking too,” Rosalind muttered, shaking her head.  

Niall always stayed calm even when Rosalind was at her worst but she could see his grip on the steering wheel tighten. “It was going to be taken care of tonight,” he gritted out. “Lewis was having one of his men deal with it tonight at sundown. I even fucking talked to him. He didn’t even talk to his guy yet.”

Rosalind let her glance slide over to him, eyebrows furrowing. Niall shook his head, “why the fuck do you assume the worst of me? And do you think I actually wanted to kill your brother? I wanted him dead but- Jesus fuck!” He yelled, shifting in his seat. “When will you understand that I actually respect you. Whatever you say goes- that’s how it’s always been.”

“I’m sorry,” Rosalind mumbled. 

“No you’re not,” Niall laughed, shaking his head. “You’re not sorry. You never are. This is so fucking stupid. You convince me you feel a certain way and then lose your fucking mind like none of it even matters.”

“I am sorry,” Rosalind repeated, earnestly. “I lied to the fucking police. Are you aware of that? Why would I do that? Why would I get so fucking angry about that?” 

“Because you’re certifiably insane,” Niall snapped as they pulled into the auto body shop.

“Because obviously I fucking love you,” Rosalind gritted out, eyes blurry as she tried to stop herself from crying. “And the thought of you fucking our shit up by doing something stupid makes me throw up. The idea of-of living without you is too fucking much to bear so I get pissed off and say things I don’t mean. I’ve been this way since we started this godforsaken mess. Don’t act so fucking surprised now.”

“Roz,” Niall muttered, rubbing his forehead. “You cannot treat people like shit and it just be okay.”

“Would it have been that damn hard to have told me where you went this morning?” Rosalind asked. “That when you came back to bed you told the fucking truth instead of waiting until the worst fucking second to tell me. After I’m questioned by police. After I have to tell them that yes, I do indeed fuck the second most wanted mob boss in Brooklyn.”

“This is absolutely fucking ridiculous,” Niall laughed dryly. “I’m sick of this. All of it.”

“This is over,” Rosalind decided, unbuckling her seatbelt. “I’ll save you the fuckin’ trouble. It’s over. I’m calling it all off.”

“Roz-“

“Don’t fucking call me,” she told him, opening up her door. “You and I don’t exist. As far as I’m concerned, we never did.”

Rosalind got out of the car, slamming the door behind her. Luca was waiting for her at the garage doors. She could already see the look on his face. The confusion. It wouldn’t be long until everyone knew the things they did. Their secret would come out and Rosalind had to do everything she could to make sure she wouldn’t be there when it happened. 

Note: There is one chapter left, an epilogue which will be posted next week same day/time. Thanks for reading!! 

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