#he’s got a lot of privilege on his side and I hope his lawyers use all of it

[scarletwidowaf]

Imagine that no power AU where Natasha falls for this cute artsy girl and slowly finds out (to her horror) that Wanda's not just some random artsy crafts girl who plays guitar, but the (adopted) Granddaughter of the owner of the company Natasha works for. As in oh, oh no, that's Carter's grandbaby, Carter's gonna kill me.

baby carter

Wanda Maximoff x Natasha Romanoff (scarlet widow \ wandanat)

warnings: cursing? Terrible grammar and writing maybe because my brain's having hard time.

A\N: soft scarlet widow- Natasha being awkward and charming and Wanda being absolutely adorable. also, I honestly don't know what I feel bout it - I think it's kinda messy especially compared to my latest work.

words: idk... a lot? 

masterlist

Natasha's been working in carter's Law Firm for almost 3 years now, slowly climbing up the company's hierarchical food chain, yet not enough to get the well-deserved promotion she was aching to get.

Not that she was ungrateful, hell no. not long after she graduated she got the job in carter's, which was one of the best and strongest law firms in the market. This means that not only that she found herself working alongside some of the best lawyers in the world, she truly couldn't complain about the paycheck she was getting every month.

Natasha wasn't ungrateful, but she was driven and she knew she was great at her job, hell, she was the best young lawyer in her class, yet, after 3 years in the firm, she was still working under Coulson. Which naturally means, she did a lot of dirty work instead of representing her own cases. Working with Coulson was great, really, the man was nice, sweet, a bit nerdy at times, and of course, such a great lawyer. Looking back, Natasha should give him credit for many things she achieved in the last 3 years, and one of them was meeting the love of her life- the one and only Wanda Maximoff.

One Thursday evening, as she was just finishing up some paperwork at the firm's office in New York, she got a call from Coulson, who let her know they were cutting the day short following personal constraints.

Instead of going straight home to rest after the brutal week, as she probably should've done, she decided to text Steve and Tony to see if they were free. luckily for her, her two best friends were willing to sacrifice any plans they had for this fine Thursday night, to celebrate the rare occasion of Natasha getting out of the firm before 8 pm.

The bar steve chose was nice, rather quiet and chill. Naturally, tony didn't seem to be a fan of the blonde's choice, but since it was Steve's turn to choose a place there wasn't much he could've done about it.

"We should sit near the stage" Steve said as he spotted an empty table at the other side of the bar, near the stage.

"What's wrong with you rogers? Do you want us to sit near the stage where random people will try to squick their hearts out to a Celine Dion song?" Tony sneered out, his eyes shooting daggers at the blonde as they sat.

"It's not a karaoke bar, tony" Natasha defended steve's choice.

"Yeah, this bar hosts young talented artists, I think it's awesome and refreshing" the blonde explained.

"I still hate it" tony said.

"We don't care" Natasha said as a waitress came to the table.

Over an hour and a half later, 3 performances were over and two bawls of fries as well, the next artist got onto the stage.

The woman was young, probably younger than Natasha, and beautiful.

She was dressed rather simply compared to the other artists, just a plain white T and an old pair of skinny jeans.

Natasha noticed that some strands of her dark brown hair got stuck under her red guitar's strap.

The woman was smiling nervously as she introduced herself to the crowd and Natasha couldn't help but send her an encouraging small smile.

Surprisingly for her, the woman smiled back.

Tony and steve noticed it as well and they exchanged knowing looks.

The singer's voice was almost as beautiful as her.

Her fingers softly strumming on the frets- as almost as it was second nature, while her soft angelic voice filled the room, sending chills through Natasha's body.

Natasha smiled when she noticed how quiet the bar became, everyone seemed to be enchanted by the young singer.

When the singer finished her preference she smiled brightly to the audience, who cheered for her loudly- as she deserved, and got off the stage.

Natasha noticed the poor singer who was supposed to try and top her incredible performance. He seemed miserable.

"Earth to nat!?" Tony waved his hand in front of Natasha. The redhead blinked twice before tearing her attention from the singer and to her friends.

Steve was smiling at her, his eyes glittering in enthusiasm, while tony smirked at her with raised eyebrows.

"I'm sorry, what?" She asked.

Steve laughed and tony sigh.

"We said that she was really good" the blonde explained

"Not that you haven't noticed it, you've been practically drooling," Tony said.

"I was not" she defended herself

"You were," he said. "But we don't judge you Romanoff, its natural, she was pretty and you didn't get laid in a while. Plus- You always had a thing for the innocent looking ones" he explained and Natasha sent him her dirtiest glare.

If a look could kill tony stark would've been dead by now.

"Okay first, I wasn't drooling. Second, fuck you"

"Nice comeback" tony taunted her with a smirk, knowing full well he wasn't completely wrong.

"You should ask her out. You seem to like her"

Steve smiled at her and Natasha knew he meant it- he was was always the sweetest one of the three.

"Fancy her" tony corrected steve.

"She Like her" steve raised his eyebrow at his friend.

"Fancy" tony taunted

"Li-" steve was about to argue again until Natasha cut the stupid argument off.

"Fuck off you too," she said and waved to the waiter, hoping that another beer might make the two less annoying.

When the waiter didn't come, Natasha got frustrated, her two friends started to argue over another idiotic thing: steve's lack of love life and tony's girlfriend's lack of taste In men.

"I'm gonna get a refill," she said as she got up. The two sent her quick okays before getting back to their bickering.

When Natasha approached the bar she noticed a familiar face.

The singer was sitting in front of the bar's counter with a glass of mojito. She seemed to be having a polite conversation with the bartender.

"Hey, I'm sorry to interrupt but can I have a refill?" Natasha asked the bartender. The man smiled at her and nodded before he replaced her empty cup with a new one.

The singer smiled at her softly again- Natasha smiled nervously at her.

"I'm Natasha" Natasha said awkwardly to the girl, her cheeks flushed.

Wanda smiled back at her "hey Natasha, I'm Wanda" Wanda, the singer said as she held out her hand for a handshake.

Natasha took her hand, praying to whatever god exist that her hand wasn't sweaty.

'What's wrong with me?' She thought as she mentally faces palmed herself.

"I liked your performance," Natasha said and Wanda smiled at her.

Natasha smiled back, happy she had the privilege to be the reason the singer smiled.

"Thank you" wanda thanked her.

"I saw you at the front line," Wanda said and Natasha nodded.

"Yeah, my friend likes this place. He chose the table" she admitted.

"That's nice, I'm guessing it's your first time in here"

"Yeah, it is actually. Was I that obvious?" Natasha joked and Wanda laughed.

"Just a little bit," Wanda said with a smile "what do you think about it so far?"

"It's really nice, honestly" Natasha admitted.

"Yeah, I think that as well. I come here often with my cousin and brother but its the first time I was on stage"

"Well, you were great. Seriously. You were" she started before gazing at the stage briefly, catching the sight of the young singer who went up after Wanda. "sorry, are- the best singer" she continued and Wanda blushed.

"Thank you it means a lot"

"Anytime," Natasha said back

"I should really go... It was lovely meeting you Natasha." Wanda said as she checked the time, a small frown on her lips.

"You too," Natasha said.

Wanda nodded at her before getting up and turning around from Natasha to pull her guitar.

when Natasha took a small sip from her beer she catches the bartender's eye.

The guy was giving her the 'are you kidding me?!' look- who was a well-known look she was familiar with from years of friendship with tony.

"Hey Wanda-" Natasha said to Wanda, who was about to walk away. The singer turned back around with a small confused smile.

"Yeah?" She asked

"Would you like to, maybe, I don't know.. go out sometime?" Natasha stuttered.

'Did I just fucking stuttered!?' She mentally kicked herself.

"Yeah.. id like that" Wanda said with a smile. The brunette took a pen out of her jeans pocket and scribble something on Natasha's arm.

"Call me," Wanda said with a smile before she smiled at the bartender, who tried to look busy with anything but them.

"Bye bucky" she laughed at his antics and left.

Natasha looked up from the scrabble on her hand, who was- of course Wanda's number with a small heart at the bottom, and exchange looks with bucky the bartender.

"That went well, right?" She asked him dumbfounded and he laughed before handing her a shot glass with vodka.

"Yeah it did.. friendly advice, don't fuck it up" he said as passed her a slice of lemon.

Natasha downed the shot, nodded at him as she took her beer, and left the lemon on the counter. Her legs taking her back to her table. both of her friends were staring at her with wide eyes.

"Hell yeah Romanoff!" Tony said excitedly.

Natasha smiled at tony before looking at steve with a chuckle "the bartender is your type" she said as she set.

Steve gave her a 'are you kidding me look before his eyes traveled from her to the bartender at the bar.

----------------------ᱬ----------------------

Not long after Natasha and Wanda met again, a few times actually. 10 minutes into their first date, Natasha knew she was in trouble.

Wanda was completing Natasha on almost every level she thought about.

Wanda was carefree and dorky as Natasha was a stressed workaholic.

Wanda liked homemade meals and cooking while Natasha was practically living on boxed mac and cheese or takeout.

Natasha loved to binge movies and random tv shows into the night while Wanda liked getting up early to watch the sunrise.

Wanda loved fruity alcoholic drinks while Natasha preferred it clean.

Wanda was a splash of color in Natasha's black and white life.

Not long after, Natasha asked wanda to be her girlfriend- it happened in a month and a half after their first meeting as the two women laid in Wanda's bed, naked and sweaty with their limbs intertwined.

She could've done it more romantic, but both girls truly couldn't give a damn about it.

Wanda's apartment was incredible.

The studio apartment was big and bright.

The apartment's walls color was cream and the tall window frames were covered with white curtains.

In the beginning, Natasha didn't really understand why wanda even bother to use these curtains since the sun would light the room either way, (she found out about this terrible trait when she first stayed over and found herself awake and cursing under her breath at 7 am) But, luckily for her, Natasha learned rather fast why the younger girl's windows where ALWAYS covered. It was simple, really.

Wanda had this habit to walk around the apartment half-naked, or completely naked on better days, and as much as Natasha was grateful for that (and she was), she truly wasn't the one to share, especially not the image of her naked girlfriend as she walked around the apartment or squirmed under her touch on the bed- or anywhere they chose, really.

"Nat?" Wanda whispered softly as she was playing with her sleepy girlfriend's hair and spread soft kisses on her back.

"Hm?" Natasha hummed, half asleep.

"There's something I need to tell you" Wanda said softly. Her voice barely a whisper.

"Is everything okay, baby?" Natasha asked as she turned around to face the taller woman.

Natasha's eyebrows were tightened together in worry and Wanda couldn't help but kiss her on the nose.

"Yeah" she whispered and Natasha waited patiently for her to continue "it's just that.. there's something I need to tell you... about my family"

"Okay.." Natasha encouraged her to continue.

"My family-" she started, but got cut off by Natasha's phone buzzing on the nightstand.

"Fuck" Natasha cursed before turning around to check who it was- and if she can ignore it.

The name on the screen was definitely a sight she could not ignore.

"Just a second baby, it's my boss" she said as she pulled herself up to answer the phone. by doing so, Natasha missed wanda's guilty lip bite.

----------------------ᱬ----------------------

That's how things went for another month. In this month Natasha got the promotion she wanted which meant she was enthusiastic for days later- and Wanda couldn't bear the thought of ruining it for her.

And that's how it went overtime.

Every time Wanda manage to muster enough courage to tell Natasha whatever she wanted to say, something happened and ruined it.

But jean Racine was indeed right: 'there are no secrets that time does not reveal', and unfortunately for both women, wanda's secret got revealed in a rather unpleasant and awkward situation.

It was a pretty normal day for Natasha.

Or at least it started as one. she spent the night at Wanda's again, which means she had a hard time leaving bed in the morning but she managed it so now, a few hours later, she was having lunch at a deserted meeting room with a few friends from the office

"hey, nat.. is that your girlfriend??" Sam asked, his eyes following a girl who passes near the glass door.

"Wanda?" Natasha asked him confused.

They weren't supposed to meet today for lunch, didn't they?

"Do you have another girlfriend I'm not aware of?" He asked

"Shut up Wilson, why would Wanda be here!?"

"I don't know Romanoff, she's your girlfriend. All I can say is that she seemed to be in a deep conversation with Sharon"

"Carter?"

"the one and only" Carol whispered and Gamora rolled her eyes at the girl.

"Will you stop being weird?" Gamora asked and Carol shook her head.

"Why would she have a conversation with Sharon fucking Carter" Natasha asked confused

"Maybe you should ask her...?” the man asked

"Oh shit I think they're coming over here, pretend to be busy," Carol said as she dived back into her salad.

The others do the same as well.

A few moments later the glass door was pulled open by Sharon.

Her smile wide.

"Hey guys" Sharon said as she opened the door and git into the room, wanda following behind-

Probably unaware of her girlfriend's presence until moments later when their eyes met.

Wanda looked like she was about to die.

"Wanda?" Natasha asked. Her eyebrows knitted together.

"Wait, You know each other?" Sharon asked as she turned to the brunette

"Yeah-" she started

"How do you guys know each other" Natasha cut her girlfriend off. Her eyes were still wide with confusion.

"We're cousins" the blonde explained and Wanda bit her lip.

Natasha stared at her girlfriend, hoping to get an explanation from her.

"Wait how do you to know each other"

"She's my girlfriend," Wanda said softly as Natasha got up from her chair.

Sharon's eyes were wide "didn't see that coming" she muttered

"Tell me about that" Natasha said, more to her girlfriend than to her boss.

"I'm going out for a smoke," she said simply before leaving the room.

"Nat-" Wanda started as she followed her, leaving the other remaining members of the room confused.

"Really?" Sharon asked again.

"Well, that was something," sam said and gamora nodded.

"That's classic," Carol said as she quietly laughed to herself

Meanwhile, at the elevator, things were going less smoothly for the couple.

"You're my boss's niece and you didn't think about telling me this?" Natasha shot at Wanda as the elevator door opened and the two went outside.

"I was trying to tell you, nat. I swear. That was the thing I tried to tell you about this whole month But every time I tried to something happened" Wanda explained as Natasha lit her cigarette.

"Why didn't you say anything when we started dating and got to know each other?" Natasha asked.

The lawyer wasn't sure if she was more hurt by the fact Wanda kept this secret from her or terrified by the fact she was dating her boss's niece

"Because I didn't want you to look at me the way you look at me right now" Wanda defended herself.

"How do I look at you wanda?" Natasha asked hurt.

"Like I'm no longer the same artsy girl you met at the bar" Wanda whispered

Natasha laughed bitterly

"Come on Wanda you know I don't give a shit about it. I love you and the fact you're a carter won't change it. You are the same artsy girl from the bar, who happened to be my boss's nephew. You should've said something."

"You're right, I shouldn't have kept this away from you. It was destined to get out eventually and the last thing I ever wanted was to hurt you" Wanda took the cigarette out of Natasha's lips.

"I made a mistake and I can't change it."

Wanda continued and Natasha sigh

"I wanted you to know me, and I was scared you'll judge me or see me as a carter like most people do."

Wanda put her hand on Natasha's cheek and Natasha kissed her palm, encouraging her to continue her speech.

"Fuck, nat, I'm not even in this business- yeah they're my family but that's it. the only other connection I have to this firm is the fact I'm in love with one of its lawyers" Natasha's eyes lit up and Wanda blushed furiously.

"You're in love with me?" Natasha asked as she played pulled her girlfriend closer, A small cocky smile on her lips as Wanda rolled her eyes

"For someone so fucking smart you can be so dense sometimes," Wanda said and Natasha laughed "Of course I do moron."

"I love you too," Natasha said before kissing Wanda softly on the lips.

"Can you forgive me, then?"

"It depends," Natasha said with the best poker straight face she could muster.

"On?" Wanda asked with her eyebrow raised.

"Is there any other relative- who can fire my ass, I need to know about?"

Wanda smiled kissed Natasha's lips deeply.

"No!" She said when they broke away and the two laughed.

Natasha wiped away the younger woman's tears before kissing her lips again. This time softly.

"Good, now if you don't mind maximoff. My break's over and I should really get back before your cousin will fire my ass"

"Well technically.. she's my cousin in law, I'm peggy's grandchild, adopted one, and she's her nephew" Wanda explained

"Can she fire my ass?" Natasha asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Well.. yeah..?"

"Then my point still stands.

"Shut up Romanoff! you and I both know Sharon won't' fire your ass' because you're the best lawyer in this damn place" wanda argued

"Who fucks her cousin..-"

"You're right.. she might fire you" wanda joked and took her girlfriend's hand in hers.

"Or murder me" Natasha continued as her girlfriend pulled her back into the building and to the elevator.

"Yeah" Wanda laughed when they got into the elevator and the doors closed.

Wanda kissed Natasha's lips softly before pressing the button of their destined floor. "Or murder you"

[everydayescapeartist]

JB Fic Exchange Recs - AU Oneshots

Well, I’ve gotten through about half of the @jaime-brienne-fic-exchange fics at this point, which is both not nearly enough for my liking and also pretty impressive for me, lol. I wanted to get some recs out ahead of the reveal because the wealth of talent in this fandom should be celebrated and shouted from every rooftop...and here we are down to the wire.  Haha!  Obviously, there are SO many more awesome fics available, so take this as just a lovely sampling.  Thank you dear authors for sharing your talents with us all!

Bug Juice: Jaime and Brienne's Summer at Camp - THIS IS MY GIFT FIC!  READ IT NOW!  Okay, even if this wasn't my gift fic, I would absolutely love this fun romp of a fic.  My prompt was basically summer camp with JB flair and my author took that to such a level of creativity and snark, it was just beyond perfect!  This one is in Myrcella's POV...I didn't even know I needed this, but I really did!  She's watching the season finale of a reality tv show that's set at summer camp.  Everyone is riveted by Jaime and Brienne's will-they-won't-they, enemies-to-lovers subplot, Myrcella included, even though she does have a bit of insider knowledge naturally.  I love the way this is written like reality show segments, with Myrcella's brilliant reactions/commentary/texting of her uncle from her couch.  There are commercial breaks that will crack you up.  A very serious discussion about Capture the Flag is had.  The GoT show digs are fantastic.  Really, this is the fic you need to read if you like smiling for long periods of time and laughing potentially so hard you spew your drink.  Oh, and also if you enjoy a good ole reality show HEA.  Excerpt 1: “When Daenerys took over as Camp Director mid-session, I was worried,” Jaime says to the camera, running his good hand through his hair. “I have a complicated history with her father and she doesn’t trust me. The young Starks don’t exactly either, but Brienne has fought for me. She insisted that I am good at my job—good with the kids. She said that I am a good man.” Jaime’s eye twitches just a touch as he stares straight ahead, his face otherwise a mask of calculated neutrality. Myrcella picks up her phone, about to text her uncle to make fun of how sappy he is when the scene switches to Brienne. Excerpt 2: Brienne takes a long sip, eyeing Jaime skeptically over the rim as she lowers her cup. OMG, when are they going to make out? Just kiss him! Ugh, they better kiss or I’m going to lose my damned mind. “You keep it warm enough in here,” he complains with a sigh, brushing past Brienne, who slowly sets her cup down and turns to him. She wipes her wide palms on her shorts and watches his back as he struggles to shed his hooded sweatshirt. Excerpt 3:

“Nooooo!” Myrcella screams and falls off the couch. She lands on the ground with a thud. She scrambles to untangle herself from her blanket and clamour back up onto the couch to grab her phone. She sends Jaime a shouty text.

Score - Jaime, Brienne, and bar trivia!  Also, face-sitting goodness...what's not to love?!

Excerpt: “And because I was right and you were wrong, I demand you two go on a date.”

“Excuse me,” Brienne squeaked. Was Tyrion trying to humiliate her? How could he suggest something so absurd without a cruel intention?

To Jaime’s credit, he had the decency to look mildly embarrassed. He even blushed. “Stop it, Tyrion,” he said, annoyed.

“I’m serious,” his brother replied. “You two have been flirting all night. Do something about it or this trivia arrangement will not work out in the long run.” Privilege - Jaime coming up with ridiculous lawsuits so he can keep spending time with his lawyer, Brienne (and a couple not-so-ridiculous ones too).  This one is hilarious and clever and also very sweet.  Do yourself a favor and read it!

Excerpt: “Jaime. At this point, I have known you for eighteen months—”

As their drinks appeared, he tapped his mochaccino against her tea. “Cheers!”

“—we have never not been in court! Seven Hells, Jaime, last month you had me sue Stoneheart Press because you didn’t like the representation of Goldenhand the Just in their line of historical fiction novels.”

He took a sip of his coffee. Anyone else would look ridiculous drinking what was essentially a dessert in a three-piece suit. But not Jaime. Jaime just…looked good. “And you won all those cases, Tarth. You’re good. Occasionally graceless while dealing with opposing counsel, but good all the same.

I hope our paths will croissant again - the way to my heart is baked goods...no, really, my hubby's a good and generous baker.  So, any story where Jaime has baking skills is going to appeal to me.  That said, this one is sweet and funny and has some pining and dare I say it was delicious?  Go enjoy it!

Excerpt 1: “She didn’t hire me,” Jaime says. “She’s holding me hostage, actually.”

  She stares at him for a moment, and then realizes he’s joking, and he laughs uproariously at the look on her face. 

“I’m good at my job. Why’d she hire you? ” 

Excerpt 2:

When Jaime comes back to work, he teases her again, though lightly, and she assures herself that whatever she felt in his apartment that evening is something that he can’t possibly reciprocate and nothing is ever going to come of it, so they can just be coworkers and it will be fine. She scrubs the kitchen countertop very aggressively when he comes to help her with a batch of coconut cake and hopes he doesn’t see her blushing. Thankfully, he then spills coconut flakes all over the kitchen floor and she has to get the broom and by the time she comes back her heartbeat has slowed down properly. She tells herself she’s being very, very stupid. The stupidest, really. Absolutely top tier stupidity. 

On Paper - Addam is wingman extraordinaire, guiding is best friend through some unintentional sandwich wrapper flirting.  

Excerpt:

He knew better than to bring a date to Tarth’s. It was a surefire way to ruin a good thing in case of nasty break up.

Bringing his best friend along should have been safer. Less risky.

It would have been if his best friend wasn’t Jaime Lannister, that’s for damn sure.

Meet Me Cute - J & B are bodyguards to Sansa and Margaery and are forced to be around each other following their charges’ meet cute and all that follows.  This is told through multiple POVs and is so fun!

Excerpt:

“Margaery, can you tell Jaime to stop using ‘our’ when referring to me,” Brienne replied, opting not to engage with him directly.

Margaery sighed and turned towards her girlfriend’s bodyguard. “Jaime… why does Brienne hate your guts?”

“Not what I said.”

Jaime shrugged, “Don’t know.”

“Don’t know?” Brienne exclaimed, snapping her head up to glare at him. “You don’t know?”

“I don’t have a clue,” Sansa chimed in. “And Jaime has told me a lot about you.”

“You shush,” Jaime said. Sansa simply laughed.

vellichor - This mesmerizing story of a world-renowned violinist and a used-bookstore owner is told via before & after segments that reveal the development of the characters and of this beautiful relationship.

Excerpt:

So he does not let himself falter as he surveys the audience, sketching out a half-bow before lifting the violin and settling it against his shoulder. His bow is still loose in his right hand, and it trembles when he goes to raise it, the scars protesting a motion he has done a million times.

Those watching will see his hesitation as part of the show, the spectacle—a prolonging of his grand return is what the articles will say tomorrow morning. They will not see the terror that jolts through his body, the fingers of his left hand pressing harder against the strings. They will not see his eyes wandering over to a box on the left side of the hall, the box where a few people he has carefully chosen sit, leaning forward along with the rest.

They will not see how he searches for a tall woman sitting among them, nor will they see the ache that takes hold of his heart when the spotlight blinds him and he is unable to push through the curtain of brilliance to see if she is there.

[breanime]

Hey love I don’t know if you’re still doing the 2000 followers event (Which by the way You go Glen Coco!) but if you are can you do Should’ve known better by Monica for Papi Rio (angst)

So this is the last song drabble for my 2000 followers event. Thank you all so much for following me and reading my work! I love you all!

*gif not mine*

When you got to the prison and told them you were there to see Rio—again—you expected to have to go through the usual procedure: turn in all of your belongings, get patted down by a particularly through guard, wait for a good 20 minutes for the hellish buzzer that let you know that in the next 30 minutes, you would see Rio. But when you got there, the guard at the desk frowned, looked away from you, and mumbled a single, devastating sentence.

“The inmate doesn’t want to see you.”

It was like taking a bullet to the chest—which you would take, for Rio, if you had to. You blinked, tears forming in your eyes. You drove four and a half hours to see him…

“I’m sorry,” you said, steadying yourself, “I think there’s been a mistake…”

“No ma’mm,” the clerk cleared his throat, “He’s requested to remove you from the visitor list. He’s only allowing his lawyer to see him at this time…” He looked down. “I’m sorry.”

“I want to talk to him,” you said, anger replacing the surprised pain.

“You can call the inmate at this number—” he slid a pamphlet over to you.

“I know the number,” you said back, “I have it memorized. I want to talk to Rio.”

“You can’t see the inmate unless he has you on the list—”

“—Then let me call him,” you interrupted, holding your ground, “I’m not leaving until I speak to Rio.”

“Cell phone room is around the corner,” the clerk said, defeated.

You grabbed your purse from the counter and stomped down to the cell phone room, slamming the door behind you. You dialed the number, accepted the charges, and waited. Five minutes went by before you heard that voice that made your heart skip a beat.

“Hey.”

You closed your eyes, the tears stinging in your throat at the sound of Rio’s voice. You missed him so much, it was physically painful to you. “I’m here,” you said, knowing that he knew what ‘here’ meant.

“I know. I want you to go home.”

“Fuck you.”

Rio sighed on the other end. You could hear some light chattering in the back, but every sound he made was in stereo, both because you were so tuned in to him, and because Rio was afforded a certain amount of room, space, and respect due to his status on the streets. Even in prison, he was still a King. “This isn’t fair to you,” he said, “and I… Fuck, I can’t keep asking you to waste your time—”

“You didn’t ask me anything!” You shot back. “You made this decision to shut me out without even saying anything to me—”

“Because I knew your ass would try to argue with me!”

“You’re damn right I will!” You were pacing now, stomping around the small room. “Why would you take me off the visitor’s list?”

“Because I can’t keep doing this to you,” he shouted back, “It’s almost ten hours, to and from, to get here, you stay all day for a 45 minute visit where I can’t even touch you…” Rio took in a steadying breath, and you pictured his eyes as red as yours were. “I can’t support you, or comfort you, I can’t take you on trips like we used to do, I can’t even make fucking money in here—I ain’t shit for you while I’m in here!”

You felt your blood boil. “You… I can’t even…” You took a breath, stopping your pacing. “I didn’t ask to go with you to Mexico,” you started, “and I didn’t need the shopping sprees in L.A on Melrose. I didn’t need the furs or jewelry—and I still don’t, Rio. Material things don’t mean much to me. You are what matters to me.”

You heard Rio swallow on the other end of the line, and he was silent for a moment. “I can’t keep letting you hold us down on your own…”

“But I want to!”

“Yeah, you say that now, but what happens in another month when I’m still locked up? What happens when my guys stop sending you money? Huh? What happens when you meet someone else—”

“Are you out of your mind?!” You gasped. “Do you think I’m that easy? That fickle?”

“No, but—”

“I love you, Rio!” You screamed. “I fucking love you, you dumbass!”

“Watch your mouth—”

“Why would you take me off the list?” You knew you were bordering on hysterical now, but you couldn’t help it. “Why would you try to shut me out, Rio? I thought we were in this together! Why—”

“Why haven’t you left me?” He asked back.

You froze, eyes wide. The question was so absurd, you had to take a moment to even think of how to answer that question. “…what?”

“Why haven’t you left me? I’ve been in here 215 days with a grip more to go, and you… Fuck… Why are you still with me?”

You blinked, letting the tears fall down your cheeks. “Because I love you.”

“I love you too,” he said back, “and that’s why I can’t keep doing this to you…”

“Rio,” you said slowly, carefully, “I never ever cheated. I never ever lied. You know that I’ve been with you through everything, and I always will,” you shook your head, wiping your tears, “I love you. I love you more than anything—money, jewels, trips—that doesn’t mean shit to me. I love you. There’s no man alive or dead who could make me leave you,” you added, trying to address his fears, “It doesn’t matter if you’re up or down, either way—I’m gonna be here with you.” You could have sworn you heard Rio take a shaky breath on the other line, so you kept talking. “You should have known better than to think I would leave,” you said, “You should have known better than to doubt me—and I’m mad, Rio. I am so mad right now because I love you so, so much. And I would do anything for you. It doesn’t matter if you’re rich or poor, doing five to ten, I will always be here for you.”

“…You won’t forget about me?” Rio asked, and you knew he must be alone now because you could hear the vulnerability in his voice.

“Oh, baby,” you sighed, a new set of tears streaming down your cheeks, “How could I forget about you? Think about it—every Saturday and Monday for the last seven months, I’ve been on that receiver sitting across from you. Me. Because I’m your girl.”

“You’re my life,” he said softly.

“I know,” you chuckled through your tears, and Rio laughed on the other side of the line as well, “that’s why you should’ve known better… asshole.”

“I love you too, mama,” he said, “Just… Give me a minute, okay? I can put you back on the list right now.”

“Yeah,” you leaned against the wall, “you better.”

Within 20 minutes, you were being walked to the back to see Rio. You were surprised, however, when the guard passed the room where you usually went—the room where you would sit across from Rio with a little window blocking him from you—and kept walking. He stopped in front of a door and turned to you.

“The inmate has bought five minutes,” he said lowly, “Try to keep touching to a minimum… I’ll be right outside.”

Touching? You held your breath, watching as the man unlocked the door to reveal…

Rio.

He was standing in the room in his orange jumpsuit with chains around his ankles and wrists—but he was there, with no window of glass blocking him off from you.

And now you were crying again.

You ran to him, vaguely registering the door shutting behind you, and cried into his chest. It had been over seven months since you’d last been able to touch him, and to have this moment with him… it was breath-taking. Rio leaned down and kissed you, and you melted into his embrace. It didn’t matter that he was chained, it didn’t matter that you only had 5 minutes.

All that mattered was him.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he said, his lips on yours, “I love you. I love you.”

You wrapped your arms around him, holding him since he couldn’t hold you, and that’s how you spent your 5 minutes, just in each other’s embrace, kissing and crying and sighing.

“Rio,” you asked, mouth on his, “You paid for this?”

“Mm hmm,” he answered, a small smile on his face, “It was money well spent.”

You laughed—you knew better than to ask how much it cost. Rio’s income had decreased significantly since he’d been locked up, but he was still making money. Of course, to Rio, it wasn’t enough. So for him to spend money to have this (probably illegal) privilege with you… It meant a lot.

There was a knock on the door, signaling that your time was up.

“Hey,” Rio reached up and brushed your tears away, the chains on his wrist clanking as he moved, “don’t cry. I love you, baby.” He kissed your tears away, creating a new batch with the soft show of affection. He was smiling when he pulled back. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For reminding me that you’re my ride or die,” he answered, his fingers brushing against your face gently, “I had a weak moment, but I’m good now. Cause of you.”

“I’m here, Rio,” you said, tapping his heart with your hand, “and I’ll always be here.”

You left the prison with a sense of hope; you had cried a lot, but you felt secure that now, Rio knew better than to doubt your commitment to him. You would wait for him for as long as it took, and now, he knew that.

That was the last time Rio ever doubted you, from then on, he was secure in the fact that his girl was going to be with him no matter what, and whenever he started to feel trapped or paranoid that you would leave him, he’d remember the things you said to him, and he reminded himself—

—that he should know better. And he did.

*******************************************************************************************

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[phmurderstories]

There’s a Killer Among Us

On July 10, 2001, a Filipino family of three was found murdered inside their residence in New South Wales, Australia. Initial reports suggest that the crime was racially motivated. However, investigators found out that a family member was behind in one of the most gruesome murders in Australia.

----

The Gonzales family consisted of Teddy, Mary, Sef, and Clodine.

On a typical afternoon, while Clodine was studying in her bedroom, she was attacked viciously and swiftly—hit at least six times across the head with a baseball bat, and was then strangled. Each blow left blood spatters across the walls and furnishings as well as dents from the bat in the wall.

As if that wasn’t enough, she was also stabbed five times in the neck and twice in the abdomen. Two knives were used by the killer—the longest and sharpest from the block in the kitchen.

This attacker really wanted her to die. And he didn’t stop there.

About an hour later, Mary arrived home from the office. She worked with her husband, Teddy, in his legal practice. The attacker, seemingly expecting her, struck her the moment she entered the house. Mary ended up with multiple stab wounds to her face, neck, chest, and abdomen. An aggressive slash to her windpipe was the final blow. She was left in a pool of her own blood.

The attacker was far from done.

Teddy arrived a few moments after Mary. Like her, Teddy was also swiftly struck by the attacker just after entering the house. Teddy was stabbed in the neck, chest, and abdomen as well. The wounds he suffered were much deeper and vicious; clearly, the strikes were more aggressive and powerful on him, that his spinal cord was partially severed.

Sef Gonzales was a student at Macquarie University and worked part-time as a paralegal at his father’s law firm. After being out with a friend, he came home to a blood-soaked scene wherein his family was murdered. He saw the words “Fuck off Asians KKK” spray-painted on the wall. Sef then called for help, saying that his family had been shot and that there was a lot of blood.

The authorities arrived, not knowing that they have been played by the one who would end up being known as “The Baby-faced Killer.”

The following were Sef’s statements regarding the murder of his family:

"As I walked in, I saw my father lying there. I went to him and I kneeled down and I think at that stage I was screaming for my mother for some reason. I was also screaming for my father, I was screaming, 'Papa!' I was holding him, I was trying to hug him, I was trying to wake him up. I ran to my mother, I was hugging her, and trying to wake her as well. My first instinct was to try and resuscitate her in some way.” Upon looking for his sister, “When I opened the door I hit something. I think it may have been part of my sister's body. I slowly pushed the door open, afraid if she was in a fragile position I might hurt her."

Sef’s statements didn’t fit the time and manner of his sister’s death. According to him, “There was blood gushing from her side. I tried to stop it by using my hands." Blood doesn’t gush if one has already been dead for quite some time. The authorities found only fine smears of blood on Sef’s clothing, not the soaking kind that is expected from the gushing of blood that Sef supposedly tried to stop.

A robbery gone wrong was what authorities thought had happened, but there was no sign of forced entry to the house and no signs of searching around the house. It was found that the family had died over a three-hour period; which suggests that it couldn’t have been a robbery since robbers rarely hang around at a crime scene for that long.

Sef suggested that a Philippine businessman may have been behind the murders, but there wasn’t any evidence to support that claim. Experience dictates that in domestic cases of murder, the prime suspects are usually those closest to the victims.

In the days after the murders, Sef appeared in the media, begging the killer or killers to come forward and pleading for the New South Wales (NSW) government to offer a reward. He gave the eulogy at the funeral then performed an a capella rendition of the Mariah Carey and Boyz II Men duet One Sweet Day, while standing over the coffins of his butchered family.

Sef’s alibi was that he was with his friend, Sam Deilio (who neither knew or was told anything about the murders) and went around the city. After dropping Sam off, Sef returned home. He called police to say he had discovered the bodies on his arrival at the house, and that he had chased off intruders. The authorities debunked his alibi after being told that Sef’s car was in the driveway at the time of the murders; in which, Sef concocted a second alibi, claiming he left his car at home, got in a taxi, then went to a brothel. This alibi was also debunked.

Sef was driven to murder his family due to the pressure of being unlikely to live up to his parent’s hopes of him becoming a doctor or lawyer. Sef attempted to cover up his academic failures by falsifying results, which his parents eventually found out about. His parents threatened to take his car and other privileges he enjoyed unless his academic performance improved.His initial plan was to poison his family. He had been researching poisonous seeds and plants online. He slipped those seeds in his mother’s food which led her to be admitted to the hospital due to food poisoning. She survived that one time.

On the day of the murders, the poisonous plants were found in a container in his room. His internet search history also solidified the fact that he did, in fact, had a motive to kill.

Days after the murders, Sef was found to have been visiting his father’s accountant to check on the investments. Months later, he was seen in a luxury car. He also moved into a luxury high-rise apartment. The police arrived at his apartment and arrested him for murder.

He was found guilty of the murder of his family and was sentenced to three concurrent life terms.

[aggresivelyfriendly]

To Be So Lonely- Chapter 4

California Dreamin

Hi all! It has been ages, but at least one person is still interested, so nanny chapter ahoy! I gave this a revise and a quick read, so.... all mistakes, as ever, are mine!

Enjoy!

Harry didn't like to think of it as plotting.

He was just taking care of her. Right? She needed to relax. She ran herself ragged. We're all attorneys so dedicated? Admittedly, he didn't know a lot of lawyers, it didn't seem a career people were borne for, but if anybody was made to wear the wig, it was Vee. It was admirable, how hard she worked, how much she worked. She might be the most productive person he knew, that may also be because he came from academia. Some people published so fast your head spun, others, didn't. But Vee put the p in productivity. That's why she got the heavy cases, like the one she was coming off. Plus, when she got home, she tried to do as much as possible with the twins. She'd totally kicked him out of last week's wakings though she hasn't slept much.

"Go, I need time with my babies." With a hand wave and a look that brooked no argument, he was dismissed like a case she saw holes in from day one. He'd lingered, just a moment, to watch her scoop up Teo. Belli was still sleeping, but stirring from the noise. A swirl of her tummy with Vee's manicured hand, and she was out. Mateo was quiet now on her shoulder too now. Her beautiful hand splayed over his back at the moment. Harry had no idea when she had time to get her nails done. Maybe her Lunch hour? Though she came home then when she could. He knew it was devotion, to the babies, not her nails. That was probably required to look "professional." She must squeeze those in on the days she wasn't huddling home to see the twins, she loved them so, said it was worth it.

However, he suspected it was guilt as well over the case taking so much time, lots of late nights and missed bed times. She's worked herself to the bone, and he knew better than to mention the dark circles bruised beneath her eyes. He still saw them though. So he'd called his uncle, his pseudo uncle, and got them the place. Even promised he'd help pay for the trip James and his family had take last minute so Harry, Vee and the babies could be alone.

"With what?" His uncle chuckled. "I Know your da tied up your trust fund because you aren't doing an MBA!"

"I'm thirty. I can make my own decisions." Harry insisted. And if that meant he had to pay his own way, that was a learning experience, real adulting too. He told himself everyday he worked to go back to school, and now just did because he couldn't imagine not, that this was the way it was supposed to be. His life hadn't been Normal. Even compared to the other students on his Ivy League program with him.

"You can, but you have to then pay your own way." He could hear the shrug, and the pride. It's why his Dad's best friend was his favorite. Harry knew he sided with him. "But, enough of the tough love stuff. On to the real thing. Why do we have to make ourselves scarce? Something going on?" He left the insinuation heavy in his voice.

"No, C'mon man. She's my boss. She just needs a break. Case has been a killer. And then she's always trying to be super mum when she's home too and not let me do night duty." Harry rolled his eyes like James could see him.

His uncle whistled, "She must be a looker, if you're talking like a husband not the help."

Harry scoffed without any control. The help. Ouch. He didn't feel like help, he felt, needed. "Fuck off. It's not like that. It's professional. She doesnt see me like that anyway. Not her type."

"Oh, I see, that why she did a donor dad? She like ladies?" Harry honestly couldn't tell if he was taking the piss, plus he wanted to give a social justice rant, but knew his Uncle was more messing with him than bigoted, he hoped.

"No! No, least I don't think so?" She wasn't, was she? "Not that it would matter if she was." He protested. He honestly could not tell why it bothered him.

"Oh, quite." James was still amused and Harry was going to make more heavy weather of it, but Harry decided to ignore his uncles tone and teasing.

"James?" He cajoled.

"So, daddy," he'd even ignore the occasional dig, he was glad his uncle couldn't see his lip curl, and that he got back to brass tacks. "What dates are we being kicked about?"

"In two weeks for two weeks."  Harry was looking at the calendar she had of Selena to see how she'd marked it. Everything went into calendars, paper ones. Even though their google one synced to her iPhone. Victoria needed the order, she was so busy. The Selena calendar was just a nod to the other part of her, that wasn't run by a clock and schedule. She loved Selena.

He'd discovered this by accident.

She was so cute when she was unguarded. He was sure that he never would have found out the personal morsel if she hadn't been super stressed and decided to dance it out. She hadn't been expecting him home, he could tell that for sure, she had a red dress on, for the occasion he supposed, though her hair was still up in the mom bun her long tresses were usually scraped up into, and she was barefooted. The dress and her feet were making the most of the Latin beat. Harry was sure he would have watched for quite a while longer had she not performed an impressive turn and opened her eyes to sing "bidi bidi bum bum." He assumed she was looking to use the microwave as a mirror. Give her self a wink maybe.

He couldn't dance, but watching her made him want to learn.

"Ayyy!" She placed her hand over her heart. "Por favor Harry! Don't sneak up on me like that!"

" I didn't mean to!" He proclaimed. "The kiddos," he gestured to the dowsing twins in their Bob double stroller. "Were just done with the park. You ok now?" He was suppressing his mirth, it's not like he caught her with her hand in a cookie jar.

"Yeah, yeah, my heart rate is back to normal." He wasn't sure that was true, her breath was still rapid. "Put those dimples away!"

"There are no dimples." He tried to make his face as flat as the pancakes the kids liked from a Trader Joe's. He knew his face was probably betraying him. That muscular defect showed unless his face was truly neutral, and he was definitely engaged, amused.

"Stop laughing at me!" She glowered. Oh! Her flush was lovely.

He finally just burst out, with the ridiculous laugh, the one that was like a opening shot at the races.

Vee was certainly off. She dissolved into giggles too. And then they were laughing together until they were just looking at one another. Harry let the dimples bloom fully then, Couldn't help it, really.

Victoria took a big breath, notched her chin back and forth an inch or two, and said, "Pardon, I'm gonna go change."

"Dress is pretty." He let slip. She shot him a warning look, but she was smiling, so he felt the need to push a bit more. "A little formal for nap time." Her flipped up middle finger as she rounded the hallway entrance made him snicker. He controlled it so he didn't hear that tone she used on the phone some times. He didn't want to be on the receiving end of that, he didn't think.

He'd been clicking a button on Amazon a moment later on the Selena calendar. Well, after he googled the lyrics to figure out who she had been dancing to. Then he remembered another little detail they'd need in the beach house.

"Oh, set up the crib!" The babies could have the third bedroom. Between him and Vee, so they could share duties. She needed rest. He was gonna try to slyly make sure he took the first night shift. She'd want to hear them, and he was sure he couldn't pull it past her if he put them on one end and her on another.

James laughed. "Jesus, should I also call the chef?"  He was joking. Harry wasn't.

"Yeah, at least give me the number. She doesn't cook. Maybe buy a second crib."

"Do you cook then?" His uncle could barely keep the mirth from frothing over.

"Yeah, when she works late. So she doesn't have to eat out all day." Where was the shame in being kind?

"Oh, Harry, you better hope she's a looker and does like men, cuz if you aren't gunning for daddy, you are most certainly the help." He wasn't even trying to hide the cackle.

The help? That smarted like a slap across the ass cheek, though it was definitely unreasonable to be bothered. "Well, I am the nanny. And I definitely try to be helpful."

"Yes, employee of the month." James kept laughing at Harry while they said their goodbyes. He could hear the snickers and was sure he would be telling Jules the moment they got off then phone.

He'd got off the phone and thought about whether he was the help for ages. Railing against the insinuation.

Then accepting it, of course he was the help! He was hired help. Must be his upbringing that was showing in his annoyance at the term. He'd need to work on that. Get over himself and his privilege.

And be the best damn help he could be.

The alternative as to why he was so bothered, he couldn't think about that. Or James's ideas about his design on daddy. Though his mind did a little wander down that trail.

Gunning for daddy, how ridiculous! He just appreciated her, respected her, liked her. He tried to make her life better, like she did him, dancing to Selena and smiling and such.

Shit.

Or giving him a job and gifting him with time with her enchanting, infuriating babies. That was where his locus of gratitude was, right? Not for the chance to be close to her.

He decided to distract himself from surfacing realizations. So he dove into planning.

He thought about his own time there, and did some googling. At first he was thinking they'd just sit on the beach a ton, he'd spent hours staring at the waves like he'd once inhabited the waters and they were calling him home. When he thought more of it, he realized that was what Vee needed, but she'd bail by day three if laying about was the only plan. They'd have to get into something else too. He reckoned outside, with sunshine, and something physical.

Hiking, once she got sick of the beach, or pool, or both. That would do the trick.

This was going to be so relaxing. He wondered if they could take the twins hiking? He was researching back pack carriers when she came home.

"Do you like hiking?" He asked immediately after he said hi. He had to restrain himself from kissing her cheek hello while he scrolled through his phone.

He'd ask himself what was going on, but it would be a lie. He'd kinda known, that he was feeling at the very least familial towards her, but ever since his Uncle razed him about liking her, he was much more aware of it.

Ignorance really could be bliss. Because he was now aware of what he was missing and his subterranean wants. It had started normally, with no romantic inclinations. When he'd come for his interview, she'd impressed him, and she'd looked really tired. But pretty, really pretty, and she had made some gorgeous kids. She could use him, his help, and he could learn from her. He just knew it.

Then his crush has sort of just grown in the background, like the tomato plant his mum had growing up. He was sure it took tending, but he never saw any take place. His only memory of it was when he was forced to help build the raised bed, and picking fat green caterpillars off of it once until he put one in his sister's hair, he was off tomato duty then. After that, all he recalled was being overwhelmed by the hordes of red ripe fruit that came from it when the sun was high. He supposed he'd had a foundational moment he didn't recognize during his interview either.

Partly, he remembered really wanting this job, to help and support this family, this woman. So he supposed his level of engagement was different even in the first stage, a compulsion, just not parental.

He didn't do much tending, not to his budding crush, but he supposed when he caught her dancing and not only was moved by her hips but couldn't help but notice her lively eyes and her vanished dark circles, was some sort of middle stage.

Today, getting off the phone with his uncle was seeing all the fruit of the labor he wasn't even aware he was doing. He'd been tending and tilling, spacing and watering, nurturing his interest.

Now he just had to decide what to do about it.

Option one, ignore it, and they continue living as they have been. Like some version of a family; they're certainly a team, but one where he is the impermanent piece, like the quarterback about to graduate onto new things. Harry doesn't want new things, well he doesn't think so. He's fairly certain he wants this team, Vee as his coach and the twins as the freshman walk ons. He's just not sure how to get it.

So, option one seems no good. He doesn't want to just pretend he hasn't realized his feelings. He's known since day one he admired Vee, adored the twins. He still felt those things, they'd just deepened and he wanted to put their needs right before his own for the foreseeable future. Which was why he'd once again delayed going back to school. Another extension. He'd told himself it was about the money, and he did need that, but really he wasn't ready to be here less.

Option two, he's direct. He's imagined that scenario in his head. The setting as the living room they share. He can tell they've just gotten back, their cheeks sun kissed by the California sun, and their suitcases still full in the living area.

"Vee, have a seat. It's been a long day. Want some wine?" Should you be able to hear the nerves in your voice in a daydream?

"Yes please." She'd sigh. And he'd only heard that like twice when he made this offer in real life, so further proof he was imagining best case scenario. After a few sips, he can imagine he'd get caught up watching her relax and be mesmerized by the working of her throat. It would take courage, but she'd be relaxed and he'd be keyed up by the two weeks of her in swimsuits and watching her lick the rim of her wine glass with her eyes closed. Sometimes excitement was related to bravery.

"Vee," he'd start, "Victoria," so she'd know he was serious. Her eyes would open, connect to his. Then, he'd just say it.

But what? I'd like to take you out. I think I have feelings for you. No. I do have feelings for you. Should I just move into your bedroom? What does your kiss taste like?

He had no idea how to tell her his heart, and that seemed like an odd place to start considering they basically lived together. Shit, would she fire him? He needed the job, and the twins, oh god! He'd miss them so.

He couldn't come out of left field then. He'd need to feel her out, flirt, watch for reactions. Malibu seemed like an ideal place to move beyond the support he showed her. The sunsets and skin had to be romantic. It felt romantic to him when he was there alone, the feeling would magnify with a love interest. He'd roll his eyes at himself if he could see his reflection. He just had to see if he was interesting to her, on her romantic radar. If she seemed bewildered or put off, he'd save his job and let his feelings fester, save money and go back to school. Try to move on.

He'd have to find a way to stay in touch with the twins.

Or, she'd be receptive.

That might have been a scarier thought. More exciting too! He'd start sooner. A glass of wine, he'd let his hand linger when he handed it to him.

But she'd just begged off for her bed.  "You're so charming, Styles!" He'd teased himself as he went to bed, well tossed and turned all night. He'd needed mountains of iced coffee to stay awake the next day on their flights, the babies were cranky too. They must be feeding off his energy, and Hers. Vee looked wiped as well, so every time he got himself a refresh, he got her one too. Everything took forever, and he was vibrating by the time they picked up their rental. The babies were slowly fading and Vee looked more keyed up than him. They needed to relax, a way to unwind.

That's when the idea sparked him. The pool, the sunset, and a night cap that he could extend into drinks. All the makings of a romantic evening, or a relaxing one. He'd just lean into whatever way she seemed to be veering.

His imagination had hoped though, as he distracted himself from waiting for service in the line.

He started with thoughts of kissing her, tasting the cool water beading on her lips and the contrast of the warm recesses of her mouth. He might have groaned out loud if Belli hadn't whined.

The traffic was a welcome distraction from his nerves and though he knew the way, Vee drove and it took just that bit longer for her lack of familiarity. Especially with traffic. He offered to do it, but she'd got the rental, at her insístanle since he'd put so much work into the trip and found free accommodations. Her name was on it. "You get to play navigator, and she'd found the energy to wink!

Good sign?

The drive knocked out the crank pots in the backseat, though they had screamed until the Mulholland Pass. Until Harry realized the sun was in their eyes directly. He'd hopped over the seats and blocked it with his hands. It wasn't comfortable, but got took away the overstimuli for all the occupants of the car. Once they pass out, he and Vee shared a relieved pair of sighs. That got his mind wandering again, about other shared exhales. Soon they were pulling up the familiar beach side road and parking, each taking a baby in hand and communicating with their eyes to get them in the house.

Once Teo was in his crib, Harry cocked his head to the driveway and moved behind her. She nodded, understanding he'd unload the car while she settled Belli. She was the hard case. Harry tried to be businesslike about it, though he admitted the brush of his front to her back was more than accidental plus, he sniffed her, inaudible. She smelled of plane, and baby, and coffee. And Vee. He smiled on his way out the doorway and it encouraged him, how well they did this together.

He dropped the bags, the many bags, she'd packed just inside her door and was in his room and rooting for the swim trunks he'd packed on top before he knew it. He text her directions to meet him out back and went before his nerves could get the best of him.

Did she like tattoos? Would they turn her off? She knew about his arms, he was fairly certain he'd been wearing a t shirt at his interview. His collection was extensive though. Eye-catching, in his experience with romantic interests, usually compelling. Unless she hated body art.

Too late to do anything now, years late, and since when was he self conscious, especially about his tattoos.

He needed to get a move on if he was gonna be ready for her. He thought he knew James, well, in this case Julia, well enough that they'd have what he was looking for, probably already chilled.

He found the Moët and grabbed the glasses by the stem and huddled outside. The gorgeous weather wrapped around him, more comfortable than any sweater and the water enveloped his thighs. If she came out soon, hopefully in a suit. They'd just catch the sunset. Her skin would look so pretty in the golden light, and then moon light, probably any light. Still, he was going to keep track of her changes. He tanned well, he could show imagine how tawny she would get. His confidence was returning with his plan working out so well and his desires so near the surface. Should he pour the champagne, or would the bottle popping be a nice official start to the vacation? He was mulling it over waist deep in the water when her voice caught his attention.

"Dios Mío!" He heard from over his shoulder, and when he looked back, he would have said the same but it had little to do with the sunset he assumed she was marvelling over and everything to do with Vee.

He nearly forgot the champagne and cavemanned her over his shoulder and straight into where he was in over his head.

But that was overly forward. He at least needed to get her wet before he dove into the deep end.

[theautisticquillholder]

Murderous Love Chapter IV

(WARNING: This fanfiction has themes of Suicidal Ideation, Suicide itself, Self harm, Sexual Assualt, Murder, Extreme Bullying and Humiliation and a lot of Mental Illness related content and is NOT appropriate for children and the faint of heart. If you are under 18 or may be triggered by the content of this fanfiction please do not read this.)

Motochika’s POV

Myself and Mitsuhide were relaxing in our mini studio apartment that his parents made for us so that we can live independently while we are minors.

Tomorrow our fight to get Da Ji charged and convicted of sexual assault and distribution of Child Pornography and Loki and Ares charged and convicted as accomplices to Da Ji begins.

I knew Odin and Zeus would not take us putting those three in jail laying down. Mitsuhide was scared, he knew his life would become worse if those three are acquitted of those charges. Thankfully Dousan, Noh’s father is the best lawyer we have and has given us a no win no fee guarantee because he knew that due to Zeus and Odin being rich bastards, we may not get the outcome we want.

I hugged Mitsuhide tightly while singing to him, hoping that my singing would soothe him. I then noticed that Mitsuhide was not calming down at all, he then looked at me saying

“Hide the blades, medication and long cords. Now.”

When I heard that I let go of Mitsuhide and went to do so. I’m so glad Mitsutsuna taught me what to do when Mitsuhide ends up having a manic episode or a depressive episode. I then looked at Mitsuhide asking “Anything else?”

Mitsuhide nodded “My wallet.”

I nodded and hid his wallet as well. I then walked to my beloved and hugged him “I love you, I won’t leave you, you’re a god amongst men, you’re the strongest guy I know, you’re an absolute badass, you’ve survived so much and you’re still here, I’m so proud of you”

Mitsuhide rested his head on my chest smiling. I wasn’t told to tell Mitsuhide nice things about him, I just added that to combat the intrusive thoughts that might come up as he deals with this episode, such as feeling unworthy of anything great in life. He looked at me smiling

“I’m so sorry for having that episode.” He spoke,

I looked at him weirdly before saying “Don’t be sorry for something that is not in your control.”

Mitsuhide looked down “No one wants to hire me so I can’t get a job and I don’t want to rely on my parents to get my medication…”

I soon became worried. I looked at him before letting go of him “I just need to ask your father when dinner is ready”

I then walked out of our studio apartment and towards Mitsutsuna saying “Hey sooooooo I found out why Mitsuhide is having these episodes. He doesn’t want to rely on you to get his medication, even though he knows that you and your wife are more than happy to help him…”

Mitsutsuna froze “Wh-What? O-Oh my god!”

He then picked up his phone and called Ritsuko (Mitsuhide’s mother).

Mitsutsuna then said “So, Mitsuhide has not been taking his medication for his bipolar and his depression…

He doesn’t want to rely on us to get it for him…

I know we had that conversation with him that we’re his parents and if we can’t get him the medication he needs then we don’t deserve the honour of parenthood…

Please just get the medication for him, I’ll have a chat…

Motochika managed to get him to talk about whether or not he’s getting his medication…

Okay, I’ll do that for you”

He then hung up the phone and looked at me saying “Thank you so much for telling us this.”

I nodded “It’s okay, if we can at least get him on his medication for the duration of the Trial we can manage his condition as the trial goes on.”

I then walked back to our mini apartment, Mitsuhide looked at me saying “You told them didn’t you…”

“I’m sorry honey, I had to, they want to help you, please let them help you.” I replied.

I hugged him tightly before Ritsuko arrived and handed me the medication. “Thank you Motochika, I think you’re the man that my son needed.”

I nodded and accepted the paper bag.

THE NEXT DAY

It was the day the trials of Da Ji, Loki and Ares began.

I stood by Mitsuhide’s side as we made our way into the court room. Da Ji glared at us as the evidence was presented.

Soon it was Dousan’s turn to present evidence. He walked to the whiteboard and projector and turned it on soon revealing the Instagram post made by Da Ji that had the photo of Mitsuhide naked lying on the dingy bathroom floor.

Loki, Ares and Da Ji were held back as Dousan revealed the evidence and explained the statements given by myself, Mitsuhide and the school staff who found us in the bathroom.

The trial lasted for about five days and Judge Orochi sent the Jury out to discuss what the verdict is going to be, as we waited for the verdict Loki looked at Mitsuhide saying

“Now you’ve fucking done it, how much attention do you fucking want you whore!”

I blocked Mitsuhide’s ears when Loki opened his mouth to talk.

We then saw the Jury enter the courtroom again and the jury Forewoman Tamamo was asked if Loki was guilty or not guilty.

Tamamo replied “Loki and Ares had the majority vote of not guilty of all charges. While I have voted guilty I believe there has been some form of bribery going on that I do not know about. As a result for the sake of the members of the jury who are sympathetic towards the victim the least the courts should do is grant him the restraining order.”

“OBJECTION BITCH!” was heard, I looked in the direction the voice came from to find that it was Loki, he then looked at the judge saying

“Your Honour, I do not believe that Akechi Mitsuhide should be applying for a restraining order against myself and Ares, the three of us are all minors and there is no need for a kid to be applying for a restraining order against other kids, I believe he is doing this for attention, he imagined everything, that Instagram post is fake and we will take legal action if you allow the restraining order to go through!”

Orochi slammed the podium saying “ORDER IN THE COURT! Mr Loki Asgardian you have spoken enough, do not argue with our jury members again. Tamamo, my apologies for the interruption. Do you find Da Ji guilty or not guilty of the Sexual Assault charges and Child Pornography Charges?”

Tamamo replied “We have found Da Ji guilty of Sexual Assault and Production and distribution of child pornography, however, the majority recommends mercy.”

I saw Tamamo roll her eyes, I could tell that she has tried to get us the justice we deserve.

Orochi looked at everyone saying “Loki Asgardian and Ares Olympus are acquitted of all charges and I sentence Da Ji to four months in juvenile detention” he then grabbed the hammer and hit the hammer puck to make the sentence final.

Mitsuhide soon started crying but these tears are not happy ones, they’re tears of sadness and anger.

I called out to Orochi saying “THAT IS NOT FAIR! HOW DO YOU SLEEP AT NIGHT KNOWING YOU LET THEM OFF SO LIGHTLY!? THEY DESTROYED MITSUHIDE’S LIFE! AND AN ACQUITTAL FOR THE ACCOMPLICES AND A FOUR MONTH SENTENCE IS ALL YOU GIVE THEM!?  MITSUHIDE WILL NEVER BE ABLE TO LIVE THE CLOSEST POSSIBLE THING TO A NORMAL LIFE WHILE THESE CRIMINALS ARE RUNNING FREE!”

Orochi looked at me with a sullen look saying “I’m sorry, this is the best I can do…”

“FINE IF YOU’RE NOT GOING TO GIVE US THE JUSTICE WE DESERVE THEN I’LL GET IT MYSELF! AND THAT IS NOT A THREAT IT IS A PROMISE!” I shouted as I picked Mitsuhide up and walked out.

Four months for raping Mitsuhide then taking a photograph of him in the nude without his consent and posting it on the internet is unbelievable! What do we get!? Stuck with the trauma and having those assholes smiling like fucking crazy because they got away with it.

“Mr Chosokabe?” I heard that which brought me back to reality, I turned around still carrying Mitsuhide bridal style.

The person calling out to me was Tamamo. She walked to me and handed me a folder “Here. I have made it a rule that any communication between the prosecution or defence and the jury must be screenshot and sent to me. If you do anything rash that could get you in bigger trouble with the law these might help you justify it. These are all of the messages from the defence bribing the majority of the jury to give a not guilty verdict or if it has to be a guilty verdict to prevent suspicion recommendation of mercy.”

Mitsuhide took the folder while I had tears in my eyes said “Thank you so much, you’re so sweet”

Tamamo giggled saying “Don’t thank me, thank Kaguya, another juror for bringing this up. She was suspicious of the defence for a while and was a bit annoyed that she wasn’t the jury forewoman, I told her that if she needed to talk to me about what was happening in the court I am happy to listen. This was what she presented. Good luck taking matters in your own hands, I will be supporting you from afar.”

I nodded as we walked to the car. I placed Mitsuhide in the middle back seat, he put his seatbelt on as I sat next to him.

Hades was driving us as he was given a note by Mitsuhide’s parents stating that they are unable to bring us to the courthouse. When Hades got in the car he then screamed loudly “FUCK YOU ZEUS YOU PIECE OF SHIT! I FUCKING HATE YOUR GUTS! YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE WHY THE FUCK MUST THE WORLD LET YOU BE SO PRIVELEGED THAT YOU COULD JUST FUCK UP A FUCKING TRIAL LIKE THAT YOU FUCKING PERVERTED PLAYBOY ASSHOLE I HOPE YOU FUCKING ROT IN HELL!”

I blocked Mitsuhide’s ears as Hades screamed. When he was finished Hades looked at us with tears in his eyes saying “I’m calling your parents and asking if I can take you two somewhere for icecream and shopping to cheer you up.”

He then did so, explaining the situation, thankfully both my and Mitsuhide’s parents approved of this before we could leave a guy with silver hair and aqua streaks in his hair got in the car and looked at Hades and kissed his forehead saying

“Hey Hades, baby, what’s wrong?”

Hades looked at the guy saying “My younger brother is a privileged asshole Yang Jian… he made my mental health client lose his court case…”

Yang Jian kissed Hades’ forehead again saying “I’m guessing a repeat of us when we were sixteen? Everyone pulled the ‘they didn’t know better they’re only little’ garbage?”

Hades nodded he then said “I have asked my client and his boyfriend’s parents if I could take them out for ice cream and shopping to cheer them up. If you want you can go somewhere else while I do this”

Yang Jian looked at Hades saying “which client is it?”

“Akechi Mitsuhide” Hades replied.

Yang Jian replied “You referred Mitsuhide to the place I work for and they chose me to be his mental health support worker. This is the perfect opportunity to get to know him, even if I spend the entire time with him in silence, building rapport does not require talking at the first instance.”

Hades nodded before turning on the ignition and driving to the next town over. I’m willing to assume to keep us away from Ares and Loki so we can have some time to breathe and be happy before we get thrown through the gauntlet of bullying for trying to throw people in jail.

When we got to the mall Yang Jian looked at us asking Mitsuhide “Hey, is it okay if we just spend time together just you and me? Hades will look after Motochika for you.”

I looked at Mitsuhide who replied “O-Okay b-but if we see those two no ifs, whats or buts, I’m finding Motochika and staying with him.”

Yang Jian nodded “I understand, I want to make sure you’re comfortable and safe.” Mitsuhide put the folder in my satchel, grabbed his Lapras plush doll and his handbag and went with Yang Jian while I stayed with Hades.

I looked at Hades asking “’A repeat of us when we were sixteen’? Are you saying that this has happened before!?”

Hades nodded sadly “Yes. Not to this scale, but my parents never approved of Yang Jian, they acted like Yang Jian was a bad influence on me. I wanted to pursue a career in mental health, so did he.

My parents wanted an accountant. But because of the fact that my parents hated Yang Jian, Zeus gets to be a dick to me and not get in trouble for it.

Which sucked… and it also sucks knowing that he gets to get away with letting his son and his friends do what they want with light consequences…”

I nodded and we went to a musical instrument store because I wanted to get a new shamisen.

[uzumaki-rebellion]

“Black Boys Bloom Thorns First: Volume 2, Chapter 29″

"Oh my, time heals all but you outta time now (Now) Judge gotta watch us from the clock tower (True) Lil' tear gas cleared the whole place out I'll be back with the hazmat for the next round We was tryin' to protest, then the fires broke out Look out for the secret agents, they be planted in the crowd Said, "It's civil unrest," but you sleep so sound Like you don't hear the screams when we catchin' beatdowns Stayin' quiet when they killin' niggas, but you speak loud When we ride, got opinions comin' from a place of privilege…"

"Lockdown"-- Anderson.Paak

Califia stood before the march organizers and read off the things the group wanted to pass along to other protestors. Erik sat next to her on a chair and listened to her tick off each item.

"People should bring protective gear if they can. Goggles or sunglasses for pepper spray. If they have access, they can use the heavier gear for tear gas. Masks or bandannas for the face. Milk and water is good to have on hand to flush out the eyes if tear gas is used. Tattoos and other identifiable markings need to be covered. They should wear plain clothing or gear that doesn't have identifiable brands. A woman was arrested in the States because the Feds were able to trace a T-shirt she bought online at a specialty site. We have advised everyone to bring extra t-shirts and other clothing to switch out so they can disappear if surveillance photos are taken and the streets get hot. Confusing the enemy is the name of the game. We learned a lot from Hong Kong protestors in the past. Phones need to have GPS turned off and if possible, passcodes placed on them in case they are confiscated. No sharing selfies or uploading images…"

The list was long and her fellow organizers nodded in agreement with all the actionable items she shared.

Soliel stood next to her and read off her list of protest roles that would be fed out online to give everyone interested an opportunity to participate, especially those with disabilities and even those who wanted to march but were afraid of losing their jobs or being harassed by their own families.

"As long as we all fight in our own way, we can move this city and this country forward. The whole world. We expect the state to use whatever tools they can to make us look bad, so we must squash any groups that try to disrupt our peaceful march. There will be plants among us. We know this. But we can't allow them to bait us into a situation that would allow them to use violence against us. That is what they want. We'll have our shield soldiers briefed on how to defend us if the federals act out. Our flag bearers are young and move fast, so we will be made aware as soon as possible when the federals arrive in various locations. We have range soldiers, fire squads, and barricaders trained to act. There will be medics available, and as long as we follow our plans, we will have a safe and successful march," Soliel said.

Califia's chest eased with the tightness she had after talking with Erik. He listened on the chair and even asked a few questions about their safety if the police there took them to jail. They had bond pledges ready and lawyers on stand-by, but they hoped it wouldn't come to that.

When the meeting broke up, she walked outside to check on N'Jobu, Bakari and Besouro who opted to stand watch outside. As the organizers left their home, N'Jobu walked up and down the street. She worried that the spies sent to watch their house would take pictures of him, but he assured her that his kimoyo beads would mess up their tech. He planned on using a protective shield on her when they marched.

Besouro said goodnight, and her father and Bakari turned in for the night. She sat outside with N'Jobu and Erik.

"You feel comfortable?" N'Jobu asked her, tossing his arm around her shoulder.

"Yeah. I think we have it all down. The people just have to show up."

"How are you feeling?"

Looking into his eyes, she saw worry in them.

"Quiet…um…settled I guess. It's like the feeling I get when I used to dance at school. You rehearse and practice and understand your role, and now it just comes down to the performance. You hope things go well."

"They will," Erik said.

He sat on the small step that led up onto their tiny porch.

"Did we forget anything in there?" Califia asked, giving her son a smile.

"You had it all covered, Mom. Good job."

"Thank you."

His eyes glanced around the street. Then rested on N'Jobu.

"Baba, what's the matter?"

"Nothing. Just thinking about the march and us returning home."

Erik walked over to N'Jobu and rested his arms around his father's shoulders.

"I like having you around like this all the time. It's been fun here," Erik said.

N'Jobu stroked Erik's hands.

"I've enjoyed myself too, Son. What will you and Marisol do while we are at the march?"

"We'll watch it online, and then make dumplings with Auntie probably. She promised to make them on Saturday."

"Don't eat too many, you always get bad gas," Califia said.

"No, I don't—"

"You don't have to smell yourself when you go to sleep and start ripping bombs," she said rolling her eyes.

"Slander!" Erik said pushing on her arm. She pushed him back.

Down the street someone put on music in their home and Erik wiggled his hips and did a couple of backflips. Tapping his father's knees to get him to play, Erik hopped back from the porch to give N'Jobu room.

N'Jobu slid off his shoes and did an assertive swagger step that circled Erik. The boy's eyes kept watch on his father's hands, expecting the attack to come for his chest and not his feet. Erik stayed on the balls of his own bare feet, hopping up and down each time N'Jobu passed behind him. N'Jobu lunged forward but dropped to his feet tricking Erik into using his hands to go for his father's face. The moment Erik did that, N'Jobu cartwheeled into a side handstand using his legs to knocked Erik aside.

"Clever!" Erik shouted, hooking his fingers and jabbing N'Jobu with hard hits into his thighs. Their motion was fluid, and N'Jobu didn't allow it to move too fast.

"Alright little warrior, time for bed," Califia said.

Erik gave his father a hug.

"If you take a shower, try not to make too much noise, okay? Grandpop is having a hard time sleeping, so any noise keeps him up," she said.

"Okay. Night."

She kissed his cheek and watched him enter the house. The street was quiet then, and there were no more spies that they could see watching their home. The unmarked cars were gone.

Califia sat next to N'Jobu on the sturdy wooden chairs they propped out on the porch. Life felt good in that moment. She reached out and held his hand.

"When we have the vibranium, people can be protected from all police. All types of violence. We can create sources of energy that will lower the cost of living for everyone. People can really live. Sit on their porch and just watch the stars at night with their families and not worry about bills, or putting food on the table," N'Jobu said.

He cradled her fingers and kissed them. Califia stared into his eyes. She believed every word he said because the conviction in them was infectious. She had so many plans for when they began to remake the world. She wished Lia was alive to participate in shaping the future.

"Free education for all at any level. And that education will be equitable in quality everywhere. We can transform healthcare and the education of doctors and nurses on what true health and healing is. No more fossil fuels corroding the earth. People can work at what makes them happy, like my people at home. Wakanda isn't perfect, but we know how to run a society that treats people like humans and not capital gains."

She kissed his lips.

"What was that for?" he asked with a teasing quality in his voice.

"All that sounds so sexy coming from your mouth."

"This mouth right here?" he said pointing to his lips.

"Yeah."

"Are you sure?"

"Let me test it again and see."

She climbed onto his lap and he held her sideways. Lowering her head, she licked his lips then suckled his top lip before going full open-mouthed kissing with him. His hand slid up and down her back and she felt a little something growing under her.

"We should take this to the bedroom," he whispered rubbing on her backside.

"We can't. Erik's sleeping in there, remember? Grandpop has his bed—"

"And Bakari's on the couch…yeah…that is a problem," he sighed.

They kissed longer, and when their necks began to shift left and right as their passion grew, N'Jobu broke away from her wet mouth. They didn't have a car, and the house was so small inside, they would wake up everyone even if they tried to sneak into the bathroom or kitchen.

N'Jobu's eyes darted to and fro, and then he had her lift up.

"What are you doing…babe…no…"

His jeans slid down to his thighs.

"Pull down your jeans, girl."

His erection was hot against her naked thigh. Dragging his fingers up and down her slit, he teased out her wetness.

"It just looks like your sitting on my lap," he whispered. His tone had gone heavy. He was ready.

She couldn't resist and sat down on his length and when she felt his balls, a groan escaped her lips and he covered her mouth.

"Shh, c'mon now. Let's pretend we're back in your grandmother's living room. You know how hot you get when you have to be quiet. Mmmm…shit…Califia…see, you do remember what that was like. Riding my dick. Up and down. Just like that. Give me what I want Califia. I'm your throne…I'm your throne…fuck!"

Califia shifted her weight and let it drop on his lap, allowing his dick to penetrate her deeper. He had her at his mercy, but she switched that up quickly.

"You like that Your Highness?"

His eyes grew big then narrowed with lust. This man. That royalty talk made him grow even stiffer. She rotated her hips in slow agonizing circles as she kept direct eye contact with him, biting her lip and pouting whenever he said her name in submissive whispers.

"You like that Your Highness?"

His head tilted back and his lust-filled eyes gazed up at the heavens filled with stars. She rocked forward and back letting his dick hit her walls with a different energy in the movement.

"I love it!" he gasped clutching at her covered breast.

She began a slow calculated bounce and his right thigh shook under her.

"Dammit!" he cried out while burying his face in her neck, gripping the skin there with his teeth.

"Bite me," she panted, wanting those gold panther teeth of his to dig into her throat and make her feel drunk with his power to weaken her flesh.

His loving never got old or boring or repetitive. N'Jobu's dick aged like fine ebony wine and he could still bring tears to her eyes when they made love. The tasty fucking he was giving her on the porch had her eyes swimming in water already.

"Fuck me Prince N'Jobu."

She whimpered when his eyes fell shut and he held her down on his lap so he could thrust up into her. She leaned forward again to adjust the side angle he had her in and allowed him to slam his dick into her with a faster rhythm. Her cheeks began to clap loudly and she worried that her family inside could hear it. N'Jobu gave no care to whoever heard him. He was inside his woman. That's all that mattered.

"Your Highness, fuck me harder!" she blurted out in a rush of desperate air.

He gave out a loud moan that he couldn't hold back, and now her loud ass cheeks were joined by the sound of her wet pussy being stirred like creamy cake batter. She didn't even have to play with her clit to keep it stimulated, the side fucking tugged on her stiff bud.

"Yes! Baby…harder…"

Tears dropped from her eyes and her mouth started to dry out from being open and yelping every three seconds. When she began to squeal and squirm from all his thrusting, she dug her nails into her knees and let go.

"I'm cumming Prince N'Jobu! I'm cummi-!"

She slammed her hand over her mouth as the contractions in her walls took over. She stood on tippy-toe as her pussy did all the work of milking his dick. He shouted a curse word in Wakandan and the swelling of his length released a torrent of hot semen. He shoved his dick into her deeper and allowed his release to coat every inch of her slick interior.

Panting, N'Jobu pulled out of her and she felt the back rush of his excess cum drip from her folds. She pulled her underwear and pants up.

Wiping his sweaty brow, N'Jobu stared at her face and they both laughed.

"We are a mess," she said.

She watched him slip a single bead from his kimoyo bracelet as he walked to the front part of their tiny yard. Digging a small hole with his index finger, he dropped the bead in like a seed and tapped it twice. Califia's eyes caught a slight bright afterimage in her retinas that felt like a muted camera flash.

"What was that?" she asked.

"Security. I just activated a surveillance sensor. It will protect the house and alert me of anything outside."

He tapped another bead on his arm. Their house popped up as an image floating above his arm. It rotated 360 degrees. She could see her father, Bakari, and Erik asleep inside.

They snuck into the house and took a shower together. Crawling into bed next to their son after changing into shorts for him and a nightie for her, they spooned Erik on either side of him, the child's snores giving Califia relief that he heard nothing.

N'Jobu stared at his son's sleeping face. Califia' stroked the boy's hair.

"I will give him the world," he said.

Califia nodded, but her man had to know that he was already their son's world.

Erik had it whenever his father was next to him.

###

At the starting point of the march, N'Jobu slipped a kimoyo bead inside the pocket of the black jeans Califia wore.

If any trouble occurred, he would activate a protective camouflage shield around her and him and escort her out. She seemed anxious but eager after Soliel's parents dropped them off and took Erik to stay with Marisol. Erik appeared disappointed once more that he couldn't participate, but he kissed them goodbye and N'Jobu felt relief that his son would be away from potential harm.

The weather was agreeable and he watched Soliel and the march leadership give final instructions to the large crowd that listened to them speak through megaphones. Califia passed out water bottles from the medic supply tent that was set up at the starting zone. There would be others dotted along the march route.

Despite the sad memories of losing Lia, there was a palpable sense of celebratory vibes wafting off the marchers. Some had posters with Lia's face on them, others had posters of other victims of police brutality and police misconduct. Califia wore a brown and beige Steampunk mask that covered the bottom half of her face with attached goggles with dark lenses that protected her eyes. Once Soliel stopped speaking, she too covered her face with a bandanna and dark sunglasses that obscured her face. The family of Lia would be direct targets, and relatives were advised to blend into the actual march and not center themselves for any reason.

More supporters arrived and by the time the march started at three, there was plenty of media and the frenzy to try and capture trouble wafted off of the press. Chants of Lia's name and Brazilian protest songs were sung, and N'Jobu felt proud of the family for keeping Lia's name and work alive.

Two hours in and miles of bodies marching through the streets, word spread through the crowd from flag bearers that the police were moving in to contain pockets of protesters who had broken off from the main march. There was to be a rally at the end in front of the city hall, and the joyful energy in the crowd shifted into caution mode. N'Jobu held Califia's hand and kept her next to him as they walked. The surge in numbers of people grew, and N'Jobu began to feel as if he should remove Califia and the family. Something didn't feel right.

His military skills went into hyperdrive and he searched roofs for snipers and spotted some along the route. They were near the front of the first wave of marchers, and he could see police barricades already blocking access to city hall and limiting the space they had been given permission to occupy.

The crowd grew tense.

Soliel chatted with some women who were to speak in front of the mayor's office and she signaled for Califia and N'Jobu to come next to her.

"They don't want me to speak," Soliel said, "there are some police here who many think we're part of the assassination of Lia."

"You have a right to speak without fear for the family," a young man said who was in charge of the speakers line-up scheduled.

Soliel's face was creased with worry.

Another woman held up her cell phone.

"A group on social media have threatened to make trouble," she said.

"I won't be scared off," Soliel said even though her voice shook. She looked at Aunjanue. Bakari caught up to them.

"There are some people near the middle of the line that are instigating trouble. Some police are getting a little heavy-handed," Bakari said. He scrolled his burner cell.

"Besouro and some drummers are trying to help contain it when I left."

"What do you want to do, Soliel?" Califia asked.

"We should speak. I will speak. They silenced my sister a year ago. We can't allow that to stop us now. Intimidation tactics are what they are known for. I won't bow down to it."

The rally commenced.

N'Jobu and Califia watched speaker after speaker give testimony about Lia and the work still being done to combat the problems of police brutality and the inequities in the city. Califia checked in with Soliel's cousin who babysat the children and things were fine. Soliel closed out the speeches and gave a fiery address. N'Jobu watched her pull off her t-shirt and standing in her bra, she showed everyone her old bullet wounds in her chest and arm. Her voice was guttural and Califia translated her words as fast as she could for him.

"They put a bullet in my sister's head, and they tried to kill me too. Look at me! Look at me! I am a Black woman fighting to honor my sister's memory. I have dedicated my life to doing work that helps my people just like my sister did. My family is still watched by the police. I get email threats every week since my sister has been gone. Why? Because they do not want anyone else to rise up and challenge injustice. The police do this. The same police who allowed my sister to be murdered by their own are out here standing among us. They are not here to protect and serve the people. They are here to uphold the will of the state. And the state says that Black people are not worth anything…"

The crowd booed and some made catcalls to the police surrounding the mayor's office.

"…they say we are not human beings who deserve to live dignified lives. My sister dared to speak truth to power and…"

N'Jobu watched the crowd carefully and then kept watch over the police on alert.

"Oh shit…" Califia said.

"What?"

"She named names. Told the crowd we know the individuals who killed Lia…."

Soliel held up her cell phone and scrolled it.

"She's now naming cops in the line up here and telling the people reports of their misconduct records…"

N'Jobu felt the energy around him get amped up. The anger was swelling from the marchers. The cops looked tenser. A few left their posts and threaded away from the protestors.

"I'm glad she did it, but that was not part of her original speech," Califia said.

Loud chanting started behind them and N'Jobu swiveled his neck to see where it was coming from, but it seemed to erupt from everywhere in a spontaneous show of power.

"Fuck the police!" Califia shouted her fist in the air.

N'Jobu's eyes darted around. Many cops had their hands on their weapons ready to discharge them as they held up riot shields to push back people. He slipped his fingers on his kimoyo beads. One false move and he would make Califia and himself disappear from sight. Califia caught his fingers on the beads and she clutched onto his arm.

"Soliel," she whispered.

"I slipped a bead into her jean pocket," he said.

Califia pressed her head onto his shoulder. The relief spilled from her.

"We are not afraid of you. You should be afraid of the power from all of us. We will change this city for the betterment of all. The world is watching us right now. My sister, Negra Li, she is watching all of us right now. Our ancestors are watching over us right now. Justice will come. Justice is here. I thank all of you for coming—"

An organizer rushed over to Soliel and tugged on her arm. Soliel stared down at her cell phone.

"I just received word that my home was firebombed. My home was attacked—"

"N'Jobu! The children!" Califia shouted.

N'Jobu grabbed her hand and pulled her out of the crowd.

###

Smoke rose up from the destroyed back half of Soliel and Aunjanue's home, and as it drifted up to the sky, the setting sun made it look monstrous like a snarling dragon sitting on top of it with a heated white-gray breath. Adrenaline coursed through N'Jobu. The fire department and police tried to hold him and Califia back as they all stared in disbelief at the destruction.

His heart began to beat again when he saw Soliel's cousin who was in charge of caring for the children standing near an ambulance with Marisol. The little girl was given fresh oxygen. That relief was short-lived.

"Where's Erik?" Califia screamed.

The cousin, Ines, began to cry with a bruised face and Califia shouted out in agony and lunged for the wrecked house again. N'Jobu grabbed her and held her tight, but she fought him. "Is my baby in there?! Is he in there?" she screamed at the firefighters.

There were already firemen going through the rubble in the back. He dragged Califia over to the cousin and Marisol.

"What happened?" N'Jobu asked trying to contain his anger.

"I was cooking and Marisol was with me in the kitchen. An explosion blew up the back….we were thrown onto the floor. I covered Marisol up…but JaJa, he was in the bedroom playing a video game. I called to him, but I couldn't get him because we were covered in debris and the house was burning…"

Ines burst into uncontrollable tears and Califia tried to comfort her as her eyes pleaded for him to find Erik.

"Go get him!" she demanded.

He moved with a swiftness as Dante and Soliel's parents arrived. Soon enough Bakari and Soleil showed up with many organizers.

"My son is in there get off of me!" he yelled pushing on a policeman. He kicked aside wood and concrete, shouting for his boy, his eyes filling with smoke…

"Baba! Mom!"

N'Jobu turned to find Erik running up to his mother. Califia grabbed him in a tight hug, lifting him off of his feet.

"Where were you?" N'Jobu said clutching for him too.

Guilt was on his face.

"I left the house…I snuck off to go to the march…"

His eyes took in Marisol and then he stared at the destroyed rear of Soliel and Aunjanue's home.

"What happened?" Erik asked. His eyes were wide like a baby owl.

Califia kissed all over his face.

"I should be angry with you, but being hardheaded saved your life!" she scolded.

Erik walked up to Marisol who was in the arms of Soliel.

"You okay?" he asked.

Marisol burst into tears.

"We thought you were dead!" she wailed.

The little girl said what they all felt and Erik hugged her.

Califia wiped her eyes.

Soliel lost it.

"They tried to kill my family again!" she shouted.

Aunjanue tried to hold her and Marisol's face crumpled.

"The police did this! The police did this!"

Soliel's parents pulled her and her family away from the ambulance and ushered them to a waiting car. N'Jobu grabbed for Erik and Califia's hands.

"Let's go," he told them with Dante and Bakari on his heels.

He hailed a cab two blocks away and Califia called Soliel's mother to see where they were headed. The new family home was the destination. N'Jobu checked their own rental property and it was intact.

"This is crazy," Bakari uttered.

The ride in the cab only lasted five minutes and they took refuge inside a single-story home. Both the children were checked thoroughly and Marisol was sent to go rest. Calls were made and fears were heightened. Califia's hands wouldn't stop shaking and N'Jobu rubbed her back.

"JaJa," N'Jobu said.

"I know you told me to stay at the house, but I watched the march online and I just wanted to be there. I caught the bus but a lot of streets were blocked off, so I just walked around until I found some marchers. I walked and then I came back."

Fate.

Fate had a way of working on N'Jobu, and he thanked Bast for whatever got into his son's head to leave.

"Poor Marisol, and Ines," Califia said.

"Shit," Dante said.

Califia's father walked to the front door and they all followed.

Groups of angry people were storming down the street yelling.

"This isn't good," Bakari said.

Erik tried to peek at the action but Califia pulled him back and took him to the room where Marisol rested.

N'Jobu heard bottles breaking outside. Soliel's father Andres closed the front door.

"We stay indoors," Andres said.

"They destroyed my home!" Soliel shouted. Aujanue tried to calm her again.

"We will go salvage what we can in a couple of hours, but right now, we stay here."

Andres's voice made things sound final.

The rest of the night was spent watching the news of the firebombing, screening phone calls from the police and media.

People took to the streets and whatever feelings of goodwill and hope that the march provided ended in anger and destruction of public property. Government property was targeted and they all watched in horror as the Sao Paulo community that peacefully assembled to celebrate Lia broke down into hopelessness. Hundreds of arrests were made. N'Jobu and Califia saw young people throwing Molotov cocktails at the police who shot back with rubber bullets and real ones. Complete chaos. Supporters stood outside and protected Andres's home.

Califia was able to slip his kimoyo bead away from Soliel when she changed clothes and returned it to him. N'Jobu spoke with Erik about what he saw in the streets. His son only reported positive things and he felt good about being a part of the memorial march.

"Will they be able to fix the house back up?" Erik asked when he rested between him and Califia for the night in the spare bedroom of Andres's home.

Bakari was camped out on the floor next to the bed on a small cot, and Dante was curled up in a sleeping bag directly on the floor to help his back.

"There was too much damage to save it," Califia said with bitterness lacing her voice.

"Are you guys still mad at me for leaving?"

"No, Son. We are happy that everyone is alive and well. Homes can be replaced. People cannot," N'Jobu said.

Erik rested his head on his mother's stomach.

"Why do bad things happen to us here?" Erik asked.

Califia looked at N'Jobu for the answer.

"Powerful people with ill intent often don't like to see good people change the world. They are afraid of losing their power to control others," he said.

"Marisol was so scared. I shouldn't have left her."

"Don't worry about that. You are safe and sound and here with us," Califia said.

"Will she have to see someone like Dr. Davis? Like I had to talk to someone about…you know…"

"Probably. Don't think about that. Get some sleep, okay?" Califia said.

"Will they stay out in the streets all night? Because of what happened to Auntie's house?"

"Most people have gone home. Luckily, no one was killed by the police—"

"But that woman got shot in the leg, Mom."

"She'll live, son. Everyone is upset and hurt by what happened. They had to act out those feelings. But it's calm now."

Califia smoothed hair from Erik's eyes.

"Somebody needs a haircut," she teased.

"You!" he said pulling a clump of her hair.

"Ow! Boy!" she chirped slapping at his hand.

Erik giggled.

N'Jobu was glad that he wasn't traumatized by the shocking events of the day.

Erik fell asleep and Califia eased him off of her belly and tucked him between them. N'Jobu reached over and stroked Califia's arm.

"I'm still so angry. If they were watching all of us, then they knew there were children in that house. They didn't care. Willing to kill our babies—"

"Shh, Califia. Not now. Don't wake him."

She stared at her hands.

"Look at my hands. They still shake. God, I want to strangle whoever did that to us. I just saw that rubble and knew Erik was under it."

She grew quiet.

"Califia?"

"You think he's okay? He seems calm about all of this."

"I think he's fine. No one was seriously hurt and we all came together quickly. There was no chaos like…like last time."

"I needed to be here for this…"

"But?"

"Maybe it was a mistake. Bringing him here. I could've come by myself…"

"We needed to be here together. All of us—"

"Don't just say that to make me feel better, N'Jobu."

"We can't control the actions of our enemies. The march was an overwhelming success."

"But after the march, we'll get blamed for what happened."

"People acted out of legitimate frustration and anger about what happened to Soleil's home. It was another attack on Lia's good name, and if people destroyed a few police vehicles and buildings, so be it. Why are you smiling?"

She shook her head, her smile deepening.

"What would the old N'Jobu say about you talking like this?"

"The old me was naïve and corrupt."

"Corrupt?"

"Corrupted by privilege. Isolation. Willful ignorance."

Her eyes rested on their son.

"He'll really be okay, right?"

"Yes."

She eased her head on a pillow and closed her eyes.

He drifted in and out of sleep. Their journey into the future would begin soon and he fretted about it until he saw Bakari wake up and go into the kitchen. N'Jobu followed him.

"Couldn't stay sleep," Bakari said pouring himself some instant coffee.

"Me neither. Part of me wants to run out and just beat the hell out of anyone affiliated with the police, and another part of me knows that it could be anyone out there against Black people."

Bakari nodded.

They sat at the kitchen table together and listened to the loud ticking of the grandfather clock in the living room.

"Erik?"

"Good. So far. He wasn't there so he's only concerned about where they will live. Marisol and Ines will have to process this."

"Marisol was laughing with Andres last I heard before I went to bed. Ines said she's been through worse, so…I don't know. Maybe this will pass by for them without much scarring."

"Bakari. When we return to the States, I will need your help with some legal things."

"Like?"

"I'm planning some things and it involves my family. I'll give you more details when there aren't so many ears around, but it's very serious and I need your complete confidence and discretion."

"Whatever you need man."

N'Jobu walked into the living room and peeked out of the large front window. He could see a few neighbors standing guard outside the gated yard, and not much foot traffic or cars rolling through since the police blocked off access near the house. He hoped things had really calmed down, but his gut told him to be ready for anything.

###

The local news was in a frenzy, but the story about the firebombing was picked up on international channels. N'Jobu laid low indoors with Erik. Califia moved in and out of the house to make statements with the press alongside Soliel. Later that day the family went to salvage personal items from the destroyed home. N'Jobu watched the children and cooked for them, checking his kimoyo beads for Califia from time to time.

The march organizers had a debriefing meeting that Soliel insisted on participating in that evening. Dante had a return flight back to Oakland, so goodbyes were given and Califia saw her father off in a cab before she headed out with Soliel. They were gone for hours, and when he didn't hear from them after too much time had passed without a check-in, he grew concerned. He asked Bakari to watch the children while he set out to track her with the kimoyo bead planted on her.

He tried Califia's cell phone, but she didn't answer it. Soliel didn't answer hers either and when he drove a few blocks away from the house, Califia's phone number popped up on his cell.

"Califia?"

The voice on the other end spoke rapid Portuguese and N'Jobu couldn't make out the words. It wasn't his woman speaking. He pulled over and parked. He saw a police vehicle on the corner and there were people lingering outside as the evening settled down.

"Hold on. I don't understand…too fast…slow down…vá mais devagar! Where is my wife?"

The voice became shrill. The only thing he understood was his name and Califia's.

"Hold on for a minute, please!"

Clutching the phone to his chest, N'Jobu swept his eyes back to the police car ahead of him. Something made him leave the car where it was and walk discreetly back to the house.

"Erik, come here!"

Erik bounded out of the bedroom. Bakari stepped out of the kitchen.

"What's up man?" Bakari asked wiping down a plate.

"Someone's on the phone and I can't figure out what they're saying. They're using Califia's phone."

Bakari reached for the cell.

"I can talk to them."

"It sounds urgent and Erik's Portuguese is better."

Erik took the phone.

N'Jobu tapped his beads and he could see that Califia was alive and stationary, but she wasn't where she was supposed to be. He wished he had given her a 4D bead, but he couldn't take the chance of his brother scanning it and discovering his whereabouts or seeing Califia with it.

"Baba, this woman says that the police raided Mom's meeting…the phone cut off."

N'Jobu felt his heart leap to his throat.

Andres and Soliel's mother stepped into the house carrying bags of groceries.

"Mestre, I need you to call Califia's phone back. Something has happened."

Andres took the cell and put it on speakerphone.

The woman answered again but her voice was quieter like she was trying to whisper.

"Turn on the TV!" Andres shouted.

Bakari snapped on the television and N'Jobu's eyes and ears were split between the cell and the news.

"Okay, that was one of the organizers—"

"Mãe," Erik said holding onto Soliel's mother whose hands shook.

N'Jobu held onto the woman's arm and helped her sit down on the couch.

"What is happening?!" N'Jobu demanded.

"The women were having a meeting and the police went there to charge Soliel with inciting a riot and there was shooting. An officer was killed and—"

All eyes went to the TV as reports of the dead cop was announced.

"Where are they?" Bakari asked.

Three women were seated on the curb of a street in handcuffs and N'Jobu recognized them from being in his house days earlier. There was no sign of Califia or Soliel. Aunjanue wasn't seen either.

"Shoot out?" Andres said with an incredulous voice as the TV reporter made ridiculous claims, "My daughter would never have a weapon—"

"Shh," Mãe said patting his arm.

"Baba," Erik said.

His son stepped next to him and held his arm.

"It's okay, Son. Your mother is fine."

He almost convinced himself.

The threads were coming together to tell a story that N'Jobu didn't like. Cops raiding Soliel's organization. He could imagine Califia or Soliel popping off and the cops retaliating for accusations and calling out names for Lia's murder. They had to be on the run if that many police were parading in front of the TV cameras. They would've ditched their cell phones to keep from being tracked.

When the news report went to commercial, N'Jobu turned to face Andres.

"They won't be able to come here. Where can they go that will be safe?" N'Jobu asked.

He couldn't let on that he had the exact location of the women. Picking them up from wherever they were would not be a problem for him, but if they were in deep and actually did kill a cop, he'd have to get Califia out of the country.

"They would head out of the city," Andres said.

N'Jobu held onto Erik's hand. His eyes glanced at N'Jobu's beads and then they were on his father's face. The boy was quick.

N'Jobu ran through plans in his head. They would have to leave all of their belongings at the rental property. There was nothing there they needed. Erik had his mother's laptop there with him. N'Jobu would leave it with Bakari to take back to the States.

The landline rang.

They looked at one another and then Andres answered it.

The man listened to whoever was on the line and his body language relaxed. He hung up and took a deep breath.

"They are fine, but hiding out with Besouro in his apartment. They can't stay there long because the police will probably start locking down streets since a cop was killed. There is now a manhunt for them."

That meant they had names.

That also meant that Califia couldn't leave the country by plane or car. She was stuck.

Unless…

"We can get Aunjanue and Soliel to the Mantiqueira Mountains, but Califia would have to stay with them," Andres said.

Erik's body grew tense against him.

"No. I will get her out of the country," N'Jobu said.

"Man, how you gonna do that? They will have this place crawling with cops, and they will be out for blood," Bakari said.

"Baba," Erik murmured.

Marisol walked into the room rubbing her eyes. Mãe ushered her back into the room she came from napping in.

"I will get her out of here."

N'Jobu's words were final.

###

He was taking a huge risk.

N'Jobu had War Dog allies all over the planet, but what he was attempting to do now could risk the greater mission if it failed.

He stayed secretive as he rode in a cab with Erik and Andres.

Favors had been called in from Andres's cadre of capoeira supporters and close family friends. Spiriting away three wanted women was going to be a delicate task. The police already had a woman in custody who was Soliel's right-hand soldier and she wasn't speaking to anyone but a lawyer. Bakari stayed in Andre's home contacting lawyer friends back home and discreetly checking to see if there was someone who could help him with Brazilian law where it pertained to American citizens accused of crimes.

Changing cabs a few times and walking for the last leg of getting to Besouro's apartment was tough, especially for Erik whose anxiety about his mother spiked tremendously. Entering the back of the twenty-story apartment building, N'Jobu used his kimoyo beads to scramble cameras outside the apartment and inside as they rode an elevator.

He was able to breathe normally the moment Califia was in his arms.

"Jobu!" she cried out when she saw him.

He hugged her so hard that he squeezed the breath from her chest.

"Don't talk about anything, not in front of Erik," he whispered in her ear.

She nodded and he released her to comfort their son. Erik did his best to appear brave but it didn't stop a few tears from trekking down his face once he was back with his mother.

Time wasn't wasted and Andres gave Soliel and Aunjanue wigs that Mãe sent with him and a change of clothes. They waited an hour and then one of Andre's friends called from a hidden car out on the street.

"Cali," Soliel said.

All the women hugged. There were no tears among them, just reassuring touches and kisses. Andres ushered them out.

Besouro cooked for them and they watched the news. Erik held onto his mother until she made him go lay down in Besouro's bedroom.

"Show me your roof access," N'Jobu said.

Confused, Besouro took him to the stairs of the apartment and they walked up ten flights.

"How will you leave here?" Besouro asked.

"I have a plan. We'll be leaving later tonight."

"Why do you need to see the roof?"

"Don't worry about."

"Don't worry about it? Are you insane? How can I not? I have to make sure Califia and Erik—"

"I will take care of my family."

Besouro's eyes look heated.

"They are my family too. They all are. Even you."

The man's voice grew soft.

N'Jobu held out his hand and Besouro clasped it in his and shook it.

"Thank you for protecting them. I promise you; I will take care of them and send you word when we are safe."

Besouro nodded, but N'Jobu could see great doubt there. The man was terrified. And he was putting his own life on the line for harboring fugitives.

"I'm going back down," Besouro said.

N'Jobu watched the man leave. When he was certain that he was alone he tapped his kimoyo bead.

"Lixesha lokuba ndimke."

Indeed.

It was time to leave.

"Your Highness, we shall arrive in exactly one hour. We have your coordinates."

"Thank you, Yonela," N'Jobu said into his beads.

He walked back down to the apartment and joined his family inside Besouro's bedroom.

"Listen to me carefully," he said standing in front of Califia and Erik as they sat on the bed.

Their questioning eyes made him smile.

"We are leaving the country. At midnight."

"I can't get on a plane, N'Jobu. I can't even drive out of Sao Paolo," she said.

"What about our stuff at the house?" Erik asked.

"That can be replaced later. When we get to Oakland we'll have to stay at my apartment. Understand?"

They both nodded.

He touched Califia's hair and she wrapped her arms around his waist.

Ten minutes before midnight, N'Jobu gathered his family and walked them into the living room.

"Don't follow us," N'Jobu warned.

Erik and Califia hugged Besouro and he looked so lost and helpless to N'Jobu.

"Send me word," Besouro said.

N'Jobu nodded then herded Erik and Califia out of the apartment.

They all stayed quiet walking up the stairs and when they reached the roof, they stared at him.

"What's going to happen Baba?"

Erik's earnest eyes made N'Jobu pat his shoulder.

"You shall see, my Son."

Califia's eyes just took in the roof.

"Baba!"

Erik touched the gums on his lower lip. Califia stared at her arms and hands.

N'Jobu could feel the vibration in his body too and turned to face the sky.

"Mom, look!"

Erik pointed above them as streaks of neon blue lit the black sky.

"What…?"

Califia couldn't even finish her sentence as the sky above them appeared to ripple as if someone threw a pebble into a placid dark lake. They were all enveloped in the ticklish field of the multi-spectral camouflage shield. Erik held his fingers up to try and touch the shield but then a loud gasp escaped his throat and Califia's as a Wakandan Battle Cruiser shimmered into full view above them.

"Oh my God! Oh my God!" Califia shrieked.

N'Jobu enveloped her hand in his.

"Baba!" Erik shouted jumping up and down.

The large Cruiser spun around and hovered at the edge of the roof. A large ramp silently eased out from it and two soldiers walked down the ramp.

"Your Highness."

Captain Yonela Majola greeted him with gentle eyes. Her second in command Lt. Deyi looked around the roof to make sure it was secure. His eyes took in N'Jobu's family and when he stared at the Prince, he gave a respectful head nod in deference.

"No matter what happens, you did not see these two. Understood?" N'Jobu commanded.

"Yes, your Highness," they said in unison.

They stepped aside making room for him and his family.

"Come," N'Jobu said holding Erik's hand. Califia walked right next to him, the ship overwhelming her senses.

"I can't believe this," she whispered.

Onboard, the rest of Yonela's crew bowed to him.

"Where would you like to sit, Prince N'Jobu?" Yonela asked.

Erik's eyes made N'Jobu chuckle.

"In the front for now," N'Jobu said.

"We are on course to rendezvous with a Royal Shadow Fighter in Guyana in good time. We will have to stay in hover mode for a day before we can transfer you," Yonela said, "It is the only way I can keep this operation covert."

"That is fine, Captain," N'Jobu said.

Lt. Deyi guided Erik and Califia to empty high-backed gray seats behind the Captain's floating chair.

"Baba, it's not attached to anything. How is that possible?" Erik whispered.

"I will tell you later. We have to leave right away. Califia, are you comfortable?"

Califia sat back in her chair. She looked around for a seatbelt and then her eyes regarded his. He sat next to her and took her hand.

"Whoa," she yelped when the gravity belts secured them.

Her eyes gazed down at her waist and then she touched her shoulders.

"I feel something, but there's nothing here," she said.

Yonela took her position in the floating chair. The chair turned around to face them.

"May I, your Highness?" Yonela asked.

"Proceed," N'Jobu said, taking delight in his family getting a feel of his old world.

Yonela's eyes took in his family.

"You do not exist," Yonela said.

Erik's eyes were bright. Califia was cautious and a bit nervous.

"We are loyal to our Prince. We would die for him. We will get you home safe…"

Yonela's English was simple and clear. She slowed down to make sure they understood every word. She handed them kimoyo beads from her bracelet.

"Keep these on you. They will hide you in plain sight on board this ship. I can communicate with you while you have them. Understand?"

They nodded.

"Good. Welcome aboard."

Yonela floated back around

"At your stations!" she commanded.

The other soldiers took their positions and Yonela swiped her hand in front of her face. Touching a glowing magenta rectangle near her right hand, she took her index finger and thumb widening the rectangle. As she did that, the viewscreen window before them widened.

"Wow!" Erik said.

Califia's eyes were wider too as they took in the landscape of the city.

"May I proceed, Your Highness?" Yonela said.

"Proceed," N'Jobu said.

Yonela's left hand swiped another small floating screen and they all felt the engines rev and the Cruiser floated forward.

The smooth ascent gave them more spectacular views of Sao Paulo. Califia pointed to their left.

"Those are the Mantiqueira Mountains," she said.

N'Jobu held her hand.

"They'll make it, my love," he said.

"Erik," Yonela said.

"Yes?" he answered.

Yonela tapped Lt. Deyi's shoulder and the man stood up from his floating seat in front of Erik.

"Would you like to sit next to me?"

Yonela's eyes twinkled as she turned her head to look back at Erik. The gray hair peppering her short dark curls were the only give away that she was much older than she looked. She was sixty and barely looked forty.

"Can I Baba?"

N'Jobu's eyes met Yonela's. He hadn't been openly forthright with letting her know that this was his own family. He had told the Captain that they were a mother and child he was close to and that they needed help escaping undetected.

Yonela's eyes looked even gentler after she received confirmation.

"Go ahead," N'Jobu said.

Erik wiggled in his seat, and the gravity belt released him. He jumped onto the floating chair.

"Easy, JaJa," Califia said, still holding N'Jobu's hand.

"You see that button there?" Yonela asked pointing to a glowing yellow circle.

"Yes."

"Tap it two times," she said.

Erik did and the lights inside the ship grew dim until it was almost completely dark and just the glow of the night sky and the lights of the city enveloped them.

"Good job, young Prince," Yonela said.

Erik's eyes gazed at the woman, and then he looked back at N'Jobu in wonderment.

Yonela's fingers moved swiftly across her floating controls.

"Stealth mode engaged. Radio silence maintained…"

The rest of the soldiers went about their normal duties.

Yonela kept the cruising altitude low so that Erik could watch them travel over the country of Brazil. N'Jobu felt Califia squeeze his hand and when he looked over at her, there was water in her eyes.

"Come with me," he said releasing her from her seat.

He took her to the upper level of the ship where there were showers and sleeping quarters. Grabbing fresh white cotton loungewear from a closet, he waved his hand for privacy and several soldiers moved away from their section.

He helped her remove all of her clothing before taking his off and led her into a shower stall, locking the shower door behind them. Fully lit with plenty of room for the two of them, he took soap and shampoo from the dispensers and lathered her hair and body as she wept, the stress pouring out of her. He held her, and when she was rinsed off, he made her sit on the shower bench with him. Rocking her in his arms he allowed her to cry until no more tears came.

He pulled her into the body dryer and when they were ready, they dressed in the comfortable and clingy loungewear.

"This way," he said.

She followed him to an empty wall in a corner and watched him wave his hand over a section of it and a bed slid out from the wall.

"Lay down."

She crawled onto the small comfortable bed and he climbed in after her and wrapped his arms around her.

"When you are ready, tell me everything."

She nodded and fell asleep on his chest.

The hum of the ship rocked them both into a much-needed rest.

Chapter 30 HERE.

###

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[tomorrowsdrama]

Hyena Ep. 6

You know, after last week’s episodes, I was a bit worried we’d never be able to come back from Geum Ja tricking Hee Jae and exploiting his feelings in episode 1.  I really felt like the writers had made a mistake trying to do fake lovers to enemies to lovers again.  I know for some people it’s probably very hard to get over Geum Ja’s initial deceit/betrayal.  I mean, in real life I would tell my friend to stay the hell away from someone like that.  It also didn’t help that each time they interacted with each other, it was so harsh and bitter.  What romance is there to root for when the two people seem to hate each other so much?

But I think the writers and characters are finally settling into a dynamic that works.  At least, it works for me.  There is still bitterness, anger, and snippy remarks traded between Hee Jae and Geum Ja.  However, we the viewers, and Hee Jae are also starting to learn more about the real Geum Ja.  I feel like I am able to connect more emotionally with her when the drama actually shows us a bit of what is underneath Geum Ja’s hard exterior.  Before this week, it was just too... How should I say it... I could tell what the writers were trying to go for with her character but I just wasn’t being shown enough to actually believe it.  it’s one thing to be told that a character is supposed to be complex and another to actually see the complex layers slowly unfold.  

I know, I know, it was only the first 4 episodes, I can’t expect the writers to show all their cards.  What can I say, I’m an impatient person!  I feel like if I had the option of binging the drama instead of having to wait each week, I’d probably have less complaints.

Anyway, w/re/to the actual episode:

I loved this scene because it’s one of the rare times we see the characters be honest about their relationship.  Well, mostly Hee Jae.  But I think Geum Ja’s stunned silence was also an honest reaction.  I think this is the first time she didn’t have a snarky remark to quip back at Hee Jae.  You can tell that she was taken off-guard by not only Hee Jae’s honesty, but also the actual answer. I mean, just a second before this, they were going back and forth at each other like usual.  So Hee Jae’s sincere answer really came out of nowhere.  And of course, she drew the lines/put up her guard again by telling him to let it go.  Can I just say how much I love JJH’s heartbroken face?  Ok, ok, I love it and I also don’t at the same time since it only comes out when his character is being tormented.  It’s just, JJH’s expression was SO GOOD in that moment after she told him to let go of the past.

Cut for long ramblings and screencaps

LOL I loved the aftermath as they got “caught” being in the supply room together.  Sigh, if only they really were making out in there!

I’m glad to see that the writers did not drop the plot line about Hee Jae’s commitment to fitness after episode 1.  It’s clear that fitness is very important to Hee Jae, so it’s important to me, too.  I hope we continue to see more of this.

Side note: I feel so bad for Kim Hye Soo who has to wear 4+ inch heels just to be in the same frame as Joo Ji Hoon who is around 6′2″.  Even with those gigantic heels, she still has to tilt her head back to meet his eyes.

For people who supposedly can’t stand being around each other, they sure get into each other’s faces a lot.  If you didn’t know what they were saying, it’d look like they’re about to tear each other’s clothes off and make out.

How intereeesssting that Hee Jae just HAD to squeeze himself right next to Geum Ja when there was so much space on the other end of the couch.  It’s as if he can’t stay away from her and will find any excuse to be close.

JJH’s side eyes are just on another level in this drama.

Hee Jae accidentally acts like an actual team member by referring to themselves as “we” and the awkward silence after is hilarious.

Hee Jae turns on some music to distract from the awkward silence and what’s in Geum Ja’s CD player?  His favorite violinist’s record left at his favorite track.  Geum Ja looks like she wants to die from embarrassment.

She shuts it off immediately and makes an excuse that it was left there from before.  She doesn’t sound very convincing, though.

And Hee Jae is loving it all so much.  For once, Geum Ja is the one who’s been caught and there’s nothing she can do to deny it.  That’s a shit-eating grin if I ever saw one.  He is so pleased to learn that she actually liked the violinist.  To Hee Jae, this is small proof that Geum Ja was not completely unaffected by their relationship.  And that’s all he’s ever wanted to know.  What exactly did he mean to her?  Did she like him a bit at all?  Was it all fake? etc.

This is my other favorite conversation from this episode.  Hee Jae asks her why she became a lawyer and she actually gives him a real answer.  Through this conversation, both the viewers and Hee Jae learn a bit more about what makes Geum Ja tick and who she is.  It also shows just how different the two are.  Hee Jae doesn’t understand why everything is about money because he’s never had to think about money.  He’s a rich boy who comes from a family of judges.  You could not get more privileged and sheltered from reality.  On the other hand, Geum Ja knows just how important money is in life because she (most likely) grew up without it.  She doesn’t have the luxury to choose to do something just based on ideals and dreams.

But also, Geum Ja’s answer about wanting to know the law to protect herself further hints at her being vulnerable/unprotected at one point in her life. Hee Jae doesn’t know about her traumatic past but for the first time, he sees that there is something more to Geum Ja than just greed. This is their first time having this sort of conversation and he even remarks as much.

I have a feeling that Hee Jae didn’t really know who Geum Ja was while they dated.  Not just because she pretended to be another person, but also because he probably didn’t try to dig deeper into who she was as a person.  She catered everything to him in the relationship and he was probably fine with that.  There was no reason for him to stop and ask his girlfriend what she liked/wanted.  Like she said in episode 5, why doesn’t he try to come to her world for once?

So far, they’ve only been able to have real serious conversations in enclosed spaces where there is no one but the two of them.  The small restaurant at closing hour, the supply closet, and now Geum Ja’s car.  Outside of these small private spaces, they cannot allow themselves to be emotionally honest or vulnerable.

Haha, I guess Hee Jae’s work outs don’t translate into real life athleticism.  Even with all the arguing and “I hate yous,” Hee Jae is still so whipped by Geum Ja.  I guess old habits die hard.

On a more shallow note, Kim Hye Soo is so much prettier with her hair like this.  I hate that they style her with those ugly sideburns or whatever the hell they are.

Anyway, I think the “hate” and backstabbing is probably going to mellow out between the characters now that they’re technically working on the same side.  Of course, they will still be competitive with each other and make petty remarks, but I feel like it will be a bit less nasty.  Looks like they will actually work together next episode and I cannot wait to see my asshole lawyer power couple crush the other side instead of each other.

[lancetuckershairgel]

Warnings: language, angst :)

Tag List: (on my phone so sorry if I miss anyone) @southernbell91 @godofplumsandthunder @jamesbarnesappreciationclub @book-dragon-13 @brat-in-a-teacup @mycupoffanfiction @msruchita @anxiousamandapanda @jobean12-blog @bonkybarnes107

"Griffin!"

Lucy looked up from her spot in the floor of the common room when the guard called her name. She clutched the teddy bear close to her as she stood up.

"I didn't do anything" She said defensively

"Not why I'm here. Transport is pulling in, you've got court."

"What? My court date isn't for another month. I haven't even gotten placement yet."

The guard just shrugged and lead her into the processing area. Two county police officers entered the center and one looked at the bear in her hands. 

"Sorry Miss, the bear has to stay here."

"Oh."

Lucy reluctantly handed over Mr Snow to the guard. She wanted to argue but defying a guards orders meant having points taken off and privileges removed. She gave a longing look to Mr. Snow as the cop handcuffed her. Mr Snow, a proper name for any white bear, hadn't left Lucy's side since Chris gave him to her. He was comforting at night and  was a reminder that there was life outside of the jail walls, and that there were people who cared about her. She didn't care that the other girls called her a baby for carrying him around. 

"I'll put it on your bunk" the guard promised 

During the drive Lucy looked out the window, mostly admiring the scenes of the outside but also wondering what the court hearing was about. The officers driving her didn't have any answers so she just had to wait. Lucy hated waiting. 

When they walked into the courtroom Lucy first saw Chris sitting at the table with a man in a suit. Erin and the social worker were behind him. 

"Lucy!"

A high pitched squeal turned Lucy's attention to the other table where she saw the Michaels' and her sister. 

"Lily?!" 

Lily struggled out of her foster mother's grasp and began to run toward Lucy but Chris stepped in and scooped her up, quietly explaining that she couldn't be with Lucy yet. Lily pouted and refused to go back to the foster family.  The officers lead Lucy over to the bench behind the Michaels as the bailiff walked in. 

"All rise!"

Everyone stood as the judge entered the courtroom. Lucy lowered her head, remembering the last time she was in front of him. 

"We're here today regarding custody of Lucy and Lily Griffin. Jeff and Samantha Michaels wish to adopt Lily Griffin and Chris Haven is requesting custody of both girls. Is this correct?" The judge asked both lawyers 

"Custody?! Chris?" Lucy thought to herself as she looked wide eyed over at Chris who turned to wink at her 

"The girls father abandoned them a month ago, and all attempts to contact him have been futile." Chris' lawyer began his statement "My client has known Lucy for a year now, having grown close to her during his time at her school. He then worked closely with Lily. Both girls are close to Mr Haven and respect him."

Lucy raised her eyebrows but kept quiet. 

"I see. Mr Haven, are you aware of the responsibility that taking on these girls will bring? You are a single male, why exactly do you want this task?"

Chris stood and chuckled as Lily clung to him so he lifted her and adjusted her against his hip. She buried her face shyly into his shoulder. 

 "I'm aware of what it takes, and while I don't doubt it will take some adjusting, I am fully prepared and ready for this. I feel that it's important for the girls to stay together, and they need a stable, loving household which I am prepared to provide for them." 

"Would the girls have a safe living space inside your home?".

"Yes, they would each have their own bedrooms. I have several ideas for furniture and design but I wanted to have their input, and custody, before I bought anything."

"Understood." 

The judge then turned to the other side of the room and the lawyer for the Michaels' stood to present her case. 

"Your honor, Lily has only been with the family for a few weeks but has already made great strides in recovering."

"Recovering from what?" Lucy muttered bitterly but was shushed by one of the officers 

"She is in counseling and has been going to therapy for her speech and learning disabilities. Her academics have been improving and her teachers are pleased with her progress. We feel that the Michaels are a great fit for Lily."

Lucy rolled her eyes as the judge nodded and made some notes on his pad. 

"Now, for Lucy Griffin. She is currently staying in the Denton center for young girls for" the judge paused and looked over the notes "Leaving the group home and attempted kidnapping." 

"Hers didn't kidnap me! I ran away!" Lily said loudly to everyone's surprise and Chris tried to quiet her but the judge raised his hand before smiling softly at her

"You ran away?" He asked "Why?"

"Uh huh. I don't want to be with them." Lily pointed to her foster family and Lucy couldn't help but snicker as Samantha looked hurt.

"You don't? Do you not like Mr and Mrs Michales?"

"They're ok. They're nice but they ain't my sister."

The judge just nodded and made another note. 

After more questions and back and forth between the two lawyers and the judge, the meeting was adjourned without a decision being made. The judge set another court date for three days away and left the room. Chris and his lawyer talked quietly to the Michaels for a moment before they left with a crying Lily. The police allowed Chris a moment with Lucy. 

"You want us?" Lucy asked, her eyes still wide 

"I told you I was going to fix this. I want you and Lily to be together and I want you both to rebuild and be happy." 

"Do you think those people are really gonna get Lily?"

"They've got a strong case and a lot more experience than I do, but don't give up ok?" 

Chris nudged her chin with his knuckle and bid farewell to his fellow officers. They escorted Lucy out of the courtroom and back to the cruiser. 

During the ride Lucy thought about what it would be like to live with Chris.  To have freedom, but rules. To be with Lily again and to have a father. She tried to push the hopes and excitement away, telling herself that something would happen and she would end up disappointed. 

"He'll just leave us like everyone else." She thought to herself 

Back at the detention center, Lucy was hoping to be able to tell Julie about the news but she stopped short when she entered the bunks. On her bed was the scattered remains of Mr Snow. His head had been ripped from his body and white stuffing was spread out across the flat mattress. With a shaking hand Lucy picked up the piece of paper laying next to the dismembered head. 

"Cry about it, baby bitch."

"Who fucking did this?!" Lucy screeched, making several girls and guards jump "WHO?!"

Lucy's eyes angrily scanned the room until they landed on Valencia, the toughest girl in the center. Valencia was one of the "popular" girls. Everyone followed her around and wanted to be her friend, mostly because they were scared of her. Not Lucy. She didn't like Valencia's attitude, nor anything about her really. A rumor was going around amongst the girls that she was in for attempted murder. 

Lucy's hands clenched into fists and before any of the guards could move fast enough to stop her, she pounced on the girl, taking her to the floor. When two guards finally managed to pull Lucy away, Valencia laid against the concrete, blood pouring from her lips, nose, and a gash above her eyebrow. 

"I'll fucking kill you!" Lucy screamed as she was hauled away 

"Sit down." The guard huffed as he pushed Lucy into the isolation cell. "This is going to cost you big time."

Lucy sat against the wall and began to sob and shake with rage as she was plunged into complete darkness.  

[watery-lane]

The Night You Cared: Epilogue.

Pairing: Modern!Ivar Lothbrok x Reader

Summary: She is back. For how long?

Warnings: Angst

Words: 5340

A/N: End of my first Ivar fict! Hope you guys enjoyed it xx.

Part I / Part II 

Listen to: Stubborn Love - The Lumineers.

“He couldn’t even look at his parents faces after that. I swear to the gods, master students are just undergraduates on crack.” You rambled lightheartedly, phone on one of your hands and the heavy luggage rolling right next to you. “Oop, sorry.” You apologised to the old, white bearded man attempting to leave the building at the same time you tried to get in. “Thank you.” You mouthed with a smile and a scrunched nose, trying to look past the dark sunglasses of the man holding the door for you.

Ubbe released a short and breathy laugh. You could not see him, but you knew him well enough to notice he sounded way too distracted to formulate a proper answer to your anecdote. You knew he had things to tell you, bubbling under the surface like water about to boil, waiting patiently for you to finish with what you had to say as he always did.

Part of you already knew what he wanted to ask. As much as you loved Ubbe, his drive was wired the same way as all Lothbroks: business, business, business. Sure, he was located in the HR department and understood the way you saw things. But, as a Ragnarsson, he could not see your desire of avoiding a life between cubicles and constant phonecalls.

“Well,” you exhaled, “I’m officially back home.”

“In which hotel are you staying? I can pay you a visit as soon as I finish with these papers.” You could picture him letting go the papers on the table like white pigeons as he casually leaned back against his chair. You waited for the lift, eyes focused on the flicking numbers above your head.

Ubbe knew about your never recovered relationship with your parents. They never called you back, not even after the success of your new business was announced through local and regional media. Although for them, the news of you working for another sector other than theirs after the humiliation they had to endure at your graduation party may have felt like a slap in their faces. No one assisted to your masters graduation other than your remaining English friends. You did receive heartwarming messages from Aslaug and her sons, who apologised for not being there with you. It was a lonely ending for such an important stage of your life, but you swiftly got through it. Soon enough you got into a graduate scheme at the British council and a big part of you was relieved that you got to spend another year without facing the problems awaiting for you in Kattegat.

Now you had consumed all your borrowed time, leaving you drowning in the sterile sand clock you got yourself into, unable to put down roots in your hometown after your parents decided to pull them all out.

“Hotel Boneless and Co.” You mumbled through a dramatic sigh, stretching your arms up and puffing your chest as you heard the ding of the machine and the pop of your bones. You were carefully rolling your suitcase into the mirror covered lift when you heard the wheels of a chair rolling loudly on the other line. “I can send you my location if you don’t know where it is.” You joked as you pressed a button and stepped out of the lift. 

Ivar lived in one of the top floors of the building and you perfectly knew it was a suicide attempt to try and climb the stairs. But the thing was, you spent your whole day sitting on your ass and the last thing you wanted to do was to use your legs even less. ‘I’ll just call the lift once I feel tired’ you thought. ‘Nobody is going to steal my suitcase anyway.’ You brushed your concerns off, feeling the cosiness of class privilege surrounding you.

“Does Ivar know you’re staying at his place?” Although his voice sounded carefree, cautiousness and apprehension vibrated through his cherry picked words.

Your breath got caught up right in your throat, unsure if it was due to the fourth set of stairs you just rushed through or because you had no explanation for your mad reasoning. You shut your eyes briefly, licking your lips as you prepared to speak.

“It’s not like the first time I left, I promise.” You mumbled, your pulse thumping in your ears as you tried to not exhale heavily through the phone. “We actually talked during the past year.”

Technically, you were not lying. You two did spend time talking, sharing your everyday anecdotes through video calls or short text messages. He told you with pride about how the company stock was rising slowly but steadily, or how he was considering therapy. For his legs. On the other hand, you showed him your improving cooking skills and tenderly warned him about not stressing over things he could not control. 

Although, truth be told, that was nine months ago.

You were not to confess this, specially not to Ubbe, but although you tried, your conversations and overall relationship did not seem to endure the distance very well. Slowly withering like flowers deep into autumn, the last message you sent him was a picture of a smashed avocado toast you had for breakfast with the caption ‘The only thing I’m smashing these days smh’. A little grey bubble with the word ‘Yummy!’ seemed to be the full stop to your year long conversation.

It wasn’t until you stopped on the sixth floor, sore legs burning and short huffs escaping from your lips when you noticed the silence on the other line.

“That doesn’t answer my question, (Y/n).” Ubbe finally sighed, voice sounding tired all of the sudden.

“Well,” you strolled past the long corridor of the sixth floor, searching for the lift calmly. “we can consider myself as the best promotion gift he’s going to receive.” You smirked as you remembered the news.

A few months after your graduation you were informed by Bjorn about the death of Aslaug. You were told she died in a car crash, that the brothers were mourning, hence the lack of communication during those months. The oldest Ragnarsson did not seem phased about the news, which was understandable due to the lack of relationship he had with the woman. However, he was soon pulled into a legal battle between the Aslaugssons and Lagertha, with Ivar investing most of his time and resources in lawyers and private investigators, convinced that the death of his mother was planned. Because of that, he thought that the best idea was to leave Kattegat for awhile, investigating the markets of different nations to see if he could expand the legacy his father left.

You heard later on that Ivar won the legal battle after investing at least half of his wealth in lawyers and legal counsellors. In two days he was going to celebrate his rise, ‘just like a coronation’, Ubbe mocked, a bittersweet tone tinting his voice.

“(Y/n)...” Ubbe licked his lips as he leaned forward and rested his weight on his elbows.

“I know, I know, I should have called and said something,” you started to ramble, arms moving up and down as you got yourself in the lift, eyes locked on the lone suitcase left in the middle of the tiny space as you mindlessly pressed the last floor button. “but to be honest, would it really have been really necessary?”

“(Y/n). I can’t hear you.” Ubbe frowned as he started to hear your voice being cut repeatedly. 

 “I mean, it’s only been one year, what could have changed? What could he have done?”

“(Y/n).”

“Sell the loft his dear mother bought him? Developed a God complex? Join a cult? Get married?” You blew a raspberry, rolling your eyes as you heard the ding and saw the doors slide wide open.

At the other end of the line, Ubbe shifted his weight as he tapped his index and middle finger on the shiny table. Its a small gesture, but it helps relieving the pressure he started to feel on himself. At that time you reached the silver door, your virgin nails pressing down the doorbell as your ears processed the sweet ring that came with it.

“Ivar has... changed a little bit.” Ubbe mentions, not sure where to restart the conversation. He acknowledged he could have been a better brother to his little one, maybe they would have never reached this situation. “You will be surprised.” You kept yourself quiet for a moment, a discreet side smirk making your eyes squint.

“I’m sure I’ll figure him out.” You praised yourself, lowering your voice to a mere whisper as you talked to yourself. “I’m pretty sure we were built together by the gods anyway.”

“Huh?” Ubbe squinted, tilting his head as he could hear you talking under your breath.

“Uh nothing,” you fidgeted while you looked around, weirded out by the fact that Ivar did not seem to be at home on a weekend afternoon. Your free hand rested on your hip as you looked around, foot tapping rhythmically at the melody on your head as you pressed the button again. “Oh.”

“What?” Ubbe straightened his back.

For a mere second, your furtive eyes captured a swift move of lights and shadows slipping under the door frame, your eyes blinking rapidly at the sudden vision as you shook your head confused.

“I uh... I think I just saw someone... walking past the door?” You frowned, brushing it off as tiredness while you picked your stuff on the floor. “Never mind, I think he’s not at home. I’ll call Warwick and book a room.” You started to walk away from the door, suitcase rolling behind you as you strolled back into the lift.

“Oh wow, the little rich girl can only afford four star hotels right now?” Ubbe mocked, knowing perfectly you would be pissed at his comment, snickering as you told him to fuck off. “(Y/n)...” He called your name after your giggles died down, the sudden cold tone making you shiver with anticipation. “Have you thought about the offer?” He asked cautiously, not wishing to rush you into making any decisions. You already had a lot on your plate and something told him your stay here would end up breaking you.

“Ubbe... I—“ You hesitated. “I’m not going to lie, Haiti sounds nice and the job position sounds tempting.” Your inner cheek felt the bite of your teeth, your hips rocking forward and backwards as you stretched down. “but I’ve got things I wish to take care of in Kattegat now.” You smiled at your last sentence, the thought of your little local at the heart of your hometown and its co-owner crossing your mind. “I no longer need to run away anymore.”

 At the other side of the door, a distracted Ivar calmly read the financial reports of the last months as he sipped whiskey neat, never raising his head while he put the glass down on the counter.

“Who was it?”

“I don’t know... a seller, maybe?” A sugary and melodic voice spoke behind him, bare feet squeaking on the wooden floor as she moved back to the sofa, carefree. “It’s okay, I don’t think she knows we were at home.”

“That’s not possible, sellers are not allowed into the building.” Ivar considers, eyes looking up as he processed who could have been. Since your departure and the death of his mom, with Floki and Helga away, nobody ever visited him much. His brothers would see him every weekday at the offices and Erik was only there when he needed a ride. Only Freydis was around now and that was completely fine by him. She knew what he needed. She knew how special he really was.

“It was this woman talking on the phone with huge suitcases, she must be selling kitchenware or insurances or something.” She responded vaguely as she stood up at the sight of her fiancé perking his head up after hours focused on his job.

“Wait...” He stood still, his sudden hunch making his stomach churn. He felt the bare arms of his loved one caress and hug his chest and shoulders from behind, the hypnotising and honey like scent invading his senses like an anaesthetic. Notwithstanding, that little annoying feeling in his gut never left. “Darling, where is my phone?” He asked, his fiancée leaving his side as she looked for the device.

SLOW DANCING IN THE DARK - Joji

You pursed your lips as you idly passed your hands over your gown, the sound of your heels clicking on the ground drowned by the numerous voices echoing in the tall, french style ceilings. You were pretty surprised your name was actually on the guest list. You had previously joked with Bjorn about being his plus one and how he was 88% sure he’d end up gods know were like Sigurd if Ivar ever saw you entering the gala joined by the hip, pretty certain Ivar did not know about your arrival. Guess you couldn’t surprise him anymore, cursing his brothers for telling him you were back in Kattegat. 

The spot was not exactly like the one where your downfall took place, yet it filled your heart with the same sadness and anxiety, as if you were about to live another disappointment all over again. As you reached the main room, your walked more cautiously, as if the marble tiles were the ones marked and in charge of causing you pain if you took the wrong step.

“Nice dress.” You heard a feminine yet deep voice speaking to you, making you raise your head and brows.

The woman in front of you looked like a goddess. Like an actual goddess.

She could even be Freya, dark locks running free and caressing her shoulders, an aura of mystery covering her tall frame as she walked past an speechless you. Damn the wealthy and the powerful. Damn Ivar and his godlike contacts.

You couldn’t even say thank you, the woman long gone as she approached an oddly familiar old man at the other end of the room.

You shook your head in confusion, looking around trying to find any known faces to hold yourself onto.

“Well well well, look who we have here?” Your heart fluttered with joy as you saw the blond, long haired Ragnarsson approach you with the cheekiest grin in Kattegat.

“Hvitty!” You beamed, a shiny smile parting your lips as you reached for a hug. “Look at you, who’s the lucky one taking you home tonight?” You winked, hands grabbing the lapels of his suit tenderly.

“Well the night is still young, but I can put you first on the waiting list if you want to.” You released a careless laugh, throwing back your head as you cheerfully shook your head.

“I’m afraid my mind is already taken, baby.” You rolled your eyes, finally feeling the happiness that had been gradually dripping away from you coming back. “And this,” you pointed at your body as you twirled, “is a package deal.”

You noticed his blue eyes seemed way too out of focus for a brief moment, contrasting deeply with the airy laugh he released at your joke. You wondered what had he seen, body slowly turning back until you hear him talking to you again.

“C’mon, are you telling me you didn’t fool around in York?” Hvitserk raised his brow. Your lips parted, the ghost of a smile adorning your face as you shook your head. 

“I love your brother, Hvitserk.” You confessed with a weak voice, not willing to let the rest of the party hear such open secret coming from your mouth. “I always have. I mean,” you huffed, shaking your head, “he’s a hell of a person to love, let’s just say I had to learn to love him.” You swore to the gods you had never seen Hvitserk, the most careless family member of the Lothbroks, look so concerned as he listened to you, his spark dying down as words left your mouth. “I— I know we’ve clashed for so long, and I’ve figured out that the truth is, we got to make sacrifices for the people we love. I resented him for so long because I thought he was selfish and he hated me at the same time because he thought I was selfish.” You took a deep breath as you reached your conclusion, ignoring how the young Ragnarsson kept looking behind you nervously. “And all of this was because... We were way too obsessed with the desire of having everything going your way. The night I let the past go was the best night of my life.” Hvitserk swallowed before looking at you.

“Is this why you decided to keep your share of the bar and reject Ubbe’s offer?”

“(Y/n?)” You felt every part of your body tingle at the sound of your name, blood rushing in your ears as you turned around. Your eyes were wide open, making their way up the suited up person that was now standing right in front of you.

“Ivar.” You whispered, eyes heavy and blurry sight as you hugged him tightly.

He hugged you back, the tip of his nose pressed against your head as he inhaled your scent, heart at ease and mind in peace at last. 

“Ivar, look at you,” You cupped his face as you separated, lips travelling straight towards his. To your surprise he pushed away your hips slightly with his free hand, making you miss your target as you kept your hands where they were. “You can walk?” He nodded, eyes full of you and pupils so dilated to take you in better. Yet his face seemed expressionless, the force of his emotions hidden and tucked away.

Maybe that should have served you as a sign that things had truly changed.

“Yes, princess, I can walk.” He repeated, voice as soft as the touch that indicated you to stay a few steps away from him. You frowned slightly this time, your heart clenching painfully.

“Hey, you must be (y/n)!” A cheerful woman came by with Ubbe, who stayed behind her with a defeated look. Her little frame got close enough to pull you into her embrace, letting you know how glad she was of meeting you at last.

The two oldest brother exchanged a hardened glance, lips pursed as they observed how everything slowly started to crumble.

“So you’re the girl who made this guy human?” She stands by Ivar, puppy eyes looking up as if she devoted everything she had to him.

“I... guess?” You hesitated. “And you are?”

The petite blonde woman raises her left hand, showing a hard yet so fragile stone reflect every single beam of light in the room.

So bright were the reflections, they actually burned you down.

You could hear a lot of people talk and see her lips moving as if someone slowed down time, as if you died went to Hel with Hela and the doomed ones.

Then you looked at Ivar, his eyes never looking at you. That is when you noticed: you couldn’t read him anymore.

He didn’t seem to have only started a new chapter.

He started a whole new book.

You were pretty much out of the conversation at that point. You heard her name was Freydis, that she applied for a position as his assistant in the past. That she never thought she’d become the wife of the CEO.

“The nurse got really pissed when she heard he had been walking around without crutches before he started treatment.” Freydis said sweetly, hand on his chest as she caressed it with care. The statement snapped you out of your trance, eyes immediately finding Ivar, who shook his head slightly to the sides in an attempt to calm you down. He knew you were going to blame yourself for that. You were not at fault, in fact, you were the main reason why he tried to become better in every single way possible. Because that was what you deserved, because that was what you were. “He could have hurt himself with whatever he was attempting to do.”

Apparently, she also convinced him to get therapy for his strong mood swings and past traumas.

Little did she know, the decision came from Ivar after the last time he was with you. But you didn’t know that either and your heart broke a little bit more with every anecdote she told, every single story where she miraculously came and fixed the mistakes you made.

You could see how she was making him a better person.

“... But Ivar doesn’t really like to dance... yet.” It felt like a rambling at that point, a certain tint of fanaticism dyeing the conversation and turning it sour. You were tired at that point, eyes almost permanently stuck on the ground if it wasn’t from the tears you had to get rid of my looking up. You shot your eyes at him the moment you processed her last words, wondering expression etched on your face while he cleared his throat and looked away. It didn’t seem like him. You remember he used to insist on you to dance, like an ‘ordinary folk’.

The truth was, you never got to dance together. Too many things changed through the years, and there was this one thing he didn’t want to change too, which was how you were his first in everything worth remembering. Memories were simply sweeter with you in it. Because, as Freydis said, you made him human. 

The thing was, he needed to be a God now.

He knew that you would be happier doing what you do, being free and helping people in ways he couldn’t even phantom.

Letting you go like this was the biggest sacrifice he will ever make.

To have you as a business partner would suffice, he always loved to watch you be you, working your ass off, to care so deeply about everybody like nobody else in his circle ever does.

“Ivar, Harald and Astrid are here.” Hvitserk finally intervened, the sight of your weakened state too much for your partner in crime to bear. Ivar nodded, sorry eyes staying a little bit longer on your hardened features before following his fiancée and brother.

“How was I not invited to the engagement party?” You asked to Ubbe, eyes still locked on your now ex’s back. Just like you couldn’t put a finger on when it started, you couldn’t really think of when your relationship ended.

“Cause it was nine months ago.” Ubbe mumbled, helping you put the little pieces together. You nodded.

“How?” You swallowed, not sure if you wanted to know. “How did they meet?” Ubbe pursed his lips, tilting his head tiredly as he sighed.

“She was a call girl Ivar used to hire regularly.” He tried to brush it off by shrugging. “I am not sure what happened, but Ivar started to get back to his old habits after you left. The only thing that remained the same was the local you guys own, he regularly checked everything was alright. One day Hvitty and I saw her leaving our offices, all suited up and everything.” You nodded, encouraging to keep going. “And boom, all of the sudden, after Lagertha’s trial, they were engaged.” He exhaled. You remained silent, feeling how a sneaky tear streamed down your face. “(Y/n)?”

“I think I need some air.” You whispered, stepping away from the oldest Aslaugsson and the rest of the crowd.

At least here out in the starless night you could blame your runny nose and teary eyes on the cold.

“Remember when we used to laugh at those sappy ass couples?” You asked out loud after standing by yourself for a while, heart more serene now that you took your time to accept that maybe you were not as good for him as you thought. You wait for Ivar to get closer, the sound of his crutches marking his distance rhythmically. You turn around and you can see concern itched on his features, lips parted as he looked down, checking the damage he had done. You force a smile instead, your fist hitting his shoulder playfully as you spoke. “Seems like you are one now.”

Ivar looked at Freydis slowly, who remained inside with Ubbe and Torvi, letting a sigh relief his chest.

“Yes. Yes I am.”

It was such a change of dynamics what Ivar experienced. With you, love and intimacy was never rom-com worthy. Love was roasting each other every other day, picking up on each others scars while making sure they never open again. Love was natural, fluid.

Now with Freydis, he seemed to need to prove her where she remained in his circle in a daily basis, lovey dovey words making sure she knew where she stood in his life. Truth be told, it was easier this way to love someone. He just needed to make sure to shower her with nice things, just like she did when she saw him doubting himself.

“How does it feel to be permanently tall now?” You asked, trying to change the subject as you felt the tenderness of his voice as he spoke about his future wife.”Don’t you feel like you’re going to fall at anytime?” Ivar smirks, resting himself in the railing you were pointing at.

“Nah.”

“What if I pushed you though.” You joked lightly, hand on his back as if you were truly going to do so. Ivar shrugs calmly before looking at you.

“I mean, it wouldn’t be the first time you make me fall.” You roll your eyes, remembering the conversation you had the first night where everything seemed to be in the right place.

“Oh, c’mon, I already apologised and I don’t even remember it.” You refer to that time you supposedly made him stand up for the first time.

Ivar smiled nostalgically. He didn’t mean that.

“You know I’ll be around if you need me.” Ivar promised sincerely after staring at you for what it seemed like an eternity, getting closer to you as you nodded weakly. “I have to go and give a speech now, please wait for me until I finish it, alright? Be there for me.” He placed a finger under your chin as he inspected your face, puffy eyes, blood flushed cheeks and pouted lips revealing the damage he had done.

He just wanted to ask for a dance, discreetly, before his wedding day takes away the chance of feeling you twirling around him on his last first dance.

His hand held your fingers tightly. 

Rough skin never felt so soft, the warmth of his touch contrasting with the cold blue eyes staring at you. His brows were slightly furrowed, solely noticeable for the ones that dared to stand closer to him. Marks appeared on his forehead, horizontal lines crossing out the words his parted lips refused to let out of his mind. Ivar was holding himself back, letting the fire of his fears and yearnings consume him from within. Only his eyes exposed his introspection, your heart clenching as you saw him process his thoughts. It did feel like he was holding to you for dear life, not wanting to let go like a kid who caught his first butterfly.

Until he did.

He took a step back, glancing briefly towards your direction before parting, heavy steps ringing in your ears louder than the classical music playing in the room.

He was not going to leave.

But you knew, deep down, that he was gone already.

You followed suit and collected all your strength left to move yourself into the room. Your legs seemed to burn, unwilling to take you closer to the golden stage for someone to end your remaining emotional and mental health left with a few words.

You see from afar how he gets onstage with Freydis, who hugged his broad frame with care before he grabbed the mic. He started talking about his father, how everything started with him and how Aslaug maintained the business when he was gone. He talked about taking risks, success and investing in things that had value and fight for them.

"Enough about business, tell us about that piece of cake next to you!” A family friend shouted, his huge round tummy serving as a place to rest his hand, his braided beard caressing his exposed skin as he laughed. 

Ivar, standing right above the crowd, seemed to throw daggers with his stare, unhappy that a drunk man interrupted his ceremonial speech. But next to him the woman he was going to spend his life with giggled carelessly, getting closer to him with the wish of her fiancé to sing her praises to everybody in the room. 

“How did that woman you love ‘successfully invested’ in you!” He speaks again and at this point, Ivar is fuming. 

You looked around concerned, knowing that your childhood friend was short fused and may do something that could trouble him sooner or later. It didn’t help that the rest of the crowd was laughing too, insisting on him to talk about his fiancée, asking for him to be vulnerable in front of everybody. 

You saw Freydis calmly poking him with his elbow and how his eyes were about to pop out of his head. But then he leaned down and let her whisper in his ear and gradually, slowly, his mood seemed to change as the crowd quieted down at the sight of him clearing his throat and picking the mic to speak again.

You frowned, not sure of what poison did she give him for Ivar to suddenly change that way.

“See, you just need to show her something, something she’s never done before. Something that captures your attention, that is good enough to capture her soul. And — and she will take her time to learn” Ivar starts, eyes seemingly fixed somewhere far away from the stage. Somewhere like the very last lines of people standing in front of him, listening to him. “She simply makes something better out of it. Something brighter, even though you didn’t even think it could be possible. Even though you couldn’t even phantom you’d need so much light in your life, she proves you wrong, just like she does in every fight.” Ivar paused to chuckle, remembering the time he tried to convince you to hire strippers for the club. 

Everybody laughed after a deep collective ‘aww’ and he can feel the person standing next to him shift her weight and getting closer to him with affection. But he already was way too deep into his memories, pulling out good moments and unsaid words for the public to see how consolidated his relationship was. His tone shifted at the same time he noticed from afar how you start to break down, eyes not being able to look at him as your chest trembled. He was not aware of the harm those words would do to you without applying his own context, yet he begged for you to figure out that everything he said, he said it about you. 

“And...” Ivar swallowed, vulnerability starting to drip from every word he said. “And the thing is, she doesn’t even do it because of you. She doesn’t search for nobody’s approval. She just loves to make things better. That’s her gift, that’s her growth.”

Ivar finished and, for a brief moment, everybody remained silent. It took a minute, but then everyone seemed to burst into applause, everybody but three dumbfounded brothers looking at their youngest sibling as if he had lost his damn mind.

By the time he got closer to Freydis for a kiss you were choking in your own tears, your throat too tightly closed it seemed too difficult for you to breathe. Was this the reason why he wanted you to stay? To hear what he had to say about his fiancée? 

You shook your head, searching for the oldest Aslaugsson in the crowd.

You had enough.

"Ubbe, do you have a minute?” You asked weakly, doe eyes looking at the ground for a brief moment before gaining your composure again.

“Yeah,” he apologised to the guests he was with “what’s wrong?” He moved closer to you, the glass of champagne in his hand and the conversation he was participating in long forgotten.

“You were right.” You admitted your defeat, your head high and your chest puffed out. “I accept the offer.” You managed to let out as you took a few steps back, ignoring the way Ubbe said your name, with pity and sadness tearing through you as if you were a poor broken toy. “Tell Hvitty he can keep my share of the bar.”

Part I / Part II / Sequel (Words Into Smoke)

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[theasteriae-arc]

THE CHOICE. 

Written with, and published with the permission of, the very talented @strangerinourmidst.

“I didn’t ask for a lawyer.”  

“I’m not a lawyer,” was the easy reply. He folded his hands on the heavy metal table between them. “I'm a representative, offering an opportunity.”

Sebastian watched him, wary, distrusting. He was sat as far back in his seat as the chain of his cuffs would allow, eyes as narrow as a cat’s and shadowed by black circles. “Forgive me but the last time a “representative” came to me and offered me an “opportunity” ...” he said. The chains rattled and clinked as he made exaggerated quotation marks with his fingers. His knuckles were torn to shreds, covered in dried blood—they looked very at odds with the sound of his voice, which was hard, but with the sharp vowels of the upper classes. “It didn’t exactly go well for me, so ...” He glanced down at his hands. Curled them into fists. “They told you what I am, did they? And now you’re here to, what, bid on me, or something? Want to look at me before you buy, is that it? Hoping for a demonstration?” He could feel his blood beginning to boil. An all too familiar shiver started up in the muscles in his back. “I don’t think a suit like you will be able to stomach that.”

“I’ve seen worse.” Admittedly, just barely. The other was a mess. Handsome. Posh, once. But exhausted, now. Abused. Moriarty did not extend offers out of pity, but there was a reason Richard had insisted on interviewing the mutant boy young man first. He remembers what this is like. Richard tilted his head. He observed Sebastian calmly. Not overly-confident, not outwardly pitying- just, calm. Curious. He wondered if the chains would be enough to hold him. “I don’t represent an agency, nor any sect of the government or military. M-my employer is independent.” He didn't bother trying to hide the stutter. He hoped it would endear him. He’d worn a more casual suit for that purpose as well. Made sure his hair was brushed back but loose. No sharp angles, no intimidation here. “B-but I'm afraid you have the wrong impression of me, Mr. Moran. I'm here to offer you a job.”

“What does that matter?” Military, government ( home or foreign ), agency, independent contractor, what difference did any of it make? They were all after the same thing, after all: him. Or at least, the thing that they had turned him into. “I don’t care who sent you, they can shove their-” But despite all of his preconceptions, the stranger’s next words made Sebastian stop. Listen, even. No one had addressed him with such respect in a very long time. “It’s Private. I’m still a member of the Armed Forces, thank you very much.” He attempted to make up for the momentary drop in his guard with further hostility. “Tell me more about this job, Mr. ...?”

“You can call me ‘Richard’, Private.” He unfolded his hands and laid them flat against the cool table. He would respect the title, even if it felt tacky coming from his mouth. Rich was a good actor, though. He made it sound serious. “It’s long-term. Quite dangerous, though far away from places like this.” Rich straightened himself. Blinked those big eyes of his, and spared Sebastian a smile. “I've read your file. You're an excellent shot, Private. The best on the continent. And now you’re the fastest and strongest, too. D-don't you want the chance to use that?”

Richard had beautiful eyes, they were big and brown and framed by thick, dark lashes. Sebastian had to remind himself to concentrate, soldier. “That depends,” he answered shortly. “You said your man—or woman, I suppose, sorry—wasn't military, so what would I be using them for?” It's not that he doesn't want to leave this place, they’ve got him locked up at all hours, caged up in chains like an animal—beaten, like an animal—but the last time he took a new and dangerous job, this was where it had landed him, so it was best to be cautious. “I'm not averse to a little bit-” Or even to a lot- “-Of danger, but you must understand ... I don't know you, you haven't even told me your employer's name. I'm going to need a little more from you than what you're currently giving.” His voice was deep and the way he spoke, he sounded mature, even authoritative, something he'd not felt in a long time either, but the effect of all this was ruined when he yawned. Wide, childish. He wanted to cover his mouth, to rub at his eyes, but he tried and all it did was tug on the cuffs around his wrists and cause him more pain. “I'm tired now,” he said plainly. “So unless you can convince them to get me out of these and to let me sleep somewhere comfortable, uninterrupted, I'm not interested. It’s not money or employment that I need, it’s freedom. Can your boss offer me that?”

He watched Sebastian- all intense gaze and serious tone under the bags and bruises and shaggy hair. Richard knew he wouldn't be hurt, but he couldn't help but feel appropriately on-edge. Intimidated. The young man could be amazing, if he was given the chance. “No,” Richard admitted, after a moment. He wet his lips. “B-but he can offer you a longer leash.” He offered another smile. He stood, careful and polite. Richard walked to the door and knocked on it twice. A guard opened it- and when he saw Richard, he looked confused. He looked past Rich, to Sebastian, and the confusion turned to alarm and anger. But Richard didn't give him time to speak, or react. “Private Moran has earned a hot meal and a more comfortable cell for the night. He's been very well-behaved.”

“Very good, sir.” The command may not have been explicit, but Richard's words were heavy enough with implication that the guard was sent scurrying off about arranging all this anyway. Sebastian did not thank him. He did not say anything, letting the silence stretch on as he tried to work out how he was feeling. Hunger gnawed at his belly, fatigue weighed down his shoulders, his chin, his eyelids. The prospect of a hot meal and a modicum of comfort was appealing, he could not deny that—even if it did come at the cost of this man's patronisation ( "He's been very well-behaved" ). The thing was, though, what else was it going to cost him? Because, in Sebastian's experience, nothing came free, or even cheap, people wanted something for every kindness. That then had to be his next question: “What do you want from me? Really, what do you want?” Half-slumped against the table, he no longer sounded serious, he sounded as he looked—defeated.

He meant no offence- it was easier to command when they were given as gentle suggestions, rather than orders. If it was a reasonable thing the guard might do on his own. Richard was stretched thin enough just getting himself in and having this little meeting, something the tiger might sense if he tried hard enough. Richard had to take a moment to himself, to press his eyes closed and take in a breath, steadying, before he turned back around. The man boy looked so vulnerable. Like he wouldn't be able to move, even without the chains holding him down. Richard's hands flexed and he waited a beat, before smoothing down the front of his suit. He wanted to lie. He wanted to pretend this was kindness, or liberation. But he was a professional, this was a job, and Sebastian had to be told the truth: “M-my employer wants a living weapon. He thinks your privileged upbringing, your military training, and your new strength make you one of the most eligible candidates for this position.” ‘One of’, not ‘the’. Everyone was expendable.

Sebastian turned his head to one side, looking back at Rich from over his shoulder. “I see,” he said slowly. The truth endeared Richard more to him than his stammer did, or his nervous little smiles. “And ...” The effort of holding himself like that, simply of holding himself up, was wearing him down. He sighed, settled with his head forward facing again, but hanging low. He closed his eyes. The past few minutes replayed themselves in the back of his mind; now that he was seeing them for the second time, he realised, something felt off. “You’re not here to buy me at all, are you, sir?” They’d threatened him with that; sell him to the highest bidder, or shoot him between the eyes, those were really their only options now that they had lost complete control of him. He might look docile enough here, but his old CO had been buried with his throat torn out. The tiger that inhabited his body was by no means tame. “You’re here to steal me.” And for the first time since Richard had entered the room, for the first time in months, maybe even years, Sebastian smiled.

His mouth tipped into a muted, crooked smile. Sardonic. “I suppose I am.” Richard took steps back to the table. His time was almost up, and he was sad for it. He felt better seeing Sebastian's smile. At his reaction with the realisation. “What we do is illegal. You may be asked to hurt people. You may be asked to hurt people you've met, or you think don't deserve to be hurt. Or steal, or threaten, or intimidate. And you may not be able to question those orders.”

“And? You said you’d read my file, so you must know why they put me in here—it’s not just because I look pretty all banged up. None of that stuff bothers me, except—” He locked eyes with Richard, the grin that had blossomed under all those bruises fading slightly as he said: “—I don’t hurt kids. Doesn’t matter who’s giving the orders, I won’t do it.” There it was again, that sense that something wasn’t quite right. And you may not be able to question those orders. His file clearly showed that he had no problems talking back to his superiors. He’d refused to be a good boy and do as he was told more times than he could remember so why now—? And then he remembered the way the guard had shuffled off, obeying the instructions of a man who, by all rights, should not even be on the compound, let alone anything else. “What is it? Some kind of ... hypnosis? I mean, have you actually come here to give me a choice or am I just going to wake up tomorrow somewhere else?” Not that that would necessarily be a bad thing, he supposed, he just wanted to know that the decision would be his own.

“Sit up straight,” Richard ordered, low and gentle. It was an easy demonstration of the power. Maybe a little easier than he would have otherwise made it- the hard line against children surprised him. Pleased him. He hadn't read anything about a moral code. Rich wet his lips and let the compulsion hold for a few seconds. “That's enough, now.” He could feel Sebastian’s resistance- the boy hated authority, didn't he? “We call it ‘Suggestion’. It has it's limitations- b-but yes, you could think of it that way. I can't promise you I won't use it on you again in the future. You will know when it's happened, though. It will feel like that.” He smoothed out his jacket again. Nerves. He was starting to really feel those limitations. “F-for now, the decision to come with me or rot in this- place is entirely yours. The loyalty we require needs to be chosen. You need to know what you’re getting yourself into.” A pause. Another small smile- an apology for the dramatics. “...I will give you my number. You will have access to a phone, and a clock. You have until tomorrow evening to decide.” 

[jimlingss]

Jungle Park [18]

Chapter 17 - Chapter 18 - Chapter 19

➜ Words: 8k

➜ Genres: Fluff, Angst, Light Humour (?), Slice of Life, Workplace Romance!AU

➜ Summary: The equation is simple. Hoseok needs to hire someone. You need a job. Except like any actual equation, it’s not fucking simple at all! Not when you have to add the fact that he was forced to hire someone he doesn’t want in his office, he has little respect for your job in general, and oh yeah...once upon a time you might have—*CENSORED*.

In the entire year, Hoseok always gives himself three weeks for a break.   He uses that time off to either travel, rest, or visit family during the holiday season. Being a partner of a firm, it comes with the privilege that he can take as many days off as he chooses, whenever he wants to, but he restricts himself as a form of discipline. He loves his work and takes pride in it. So the surprise is only imaginable when he calls in and lets the office know he’s taking a few days sabbatical.   And the place where Hoseok finds himself is not in a doctor’s office to scour for answers or some kind of temple to meditate and quiet down the chaos in his mind. Rather, he walks into a lion’s den that is sure to make his headache worsen.   His knuckles rap against the smooth surface of the door. It’s quiet for thirty seconds and he wonders if she’s even here, but there’s the sound of padding footsteps on the floorboard and the door swings open.   The woman on the other side is in her pajamas with a bathrobe on top and she leans against the door frame with a scoff, eyeing him up and down. “Well, well, well, look who we have here. Finally coming to visit this dead sister of yours? I never thought you’d care to visit.”   Hoseok doesn’t say a single word. There’s no remark made, no teasing, no banter. He pushes his way past her into the living room and she shuts the door, standing there with her brows raised. “What’s the matter with you, Seok?”   “Why didn’t you tell me?” The lawyer meets her eyes and she notices how swollen his are, as if he’s been crying for the past day and rubbing at them constantly. He looks worse for wear too, nothing like the energetic or polished kid that she’s used to.   “What are you talking about?”   “I found out about Y/N,” he murmurs and it’s all he needs to say to explain himself and he questions the only people he can. “Mom, dad, you...why didn’t any of you tell me?”   Hoseok thought he finally had it. After he woke up in a daze in the hospital, he slowly began to piece the entire puzzle together. He figured out the important people in his life, his childhood, the life leading up to now, who he was. Yet, an entire chunk of his life is missing from his memories. The picture was never complete. It was too empty. He was wrong. And he feels betrayed — betrayed that his entire family, that the people who mattered most to him, they agreed to hide this portion of his life. They didn’t tell him a single thing. He was played like a fool.   Sowon sighs and crosses her arms, leaning against the wall. “It’s not my place.”   “Then whose place is it?!” Hoseok lashes out, jaw ticking and teeth clenched. “I had no idea. I had no idea she even existed for years and no one thought to bring it up?! I was going to marry her—”   “Stop finding people to blame.”   She cuts him off with one sentence. Stern. Silent. Angry. His older sister takes two steps forward, eyes narrowed into him. “I’m your sister, Jung Hoseok. I’m not the first person who would bring up the topic of your ex-girlfriend, alright? When you woke up and didn’t remember, mom, dad, and I decided it was just better not to tell you about it. The past is in the past.”   “Stop saying that!” He’s sick and tired of that — the past is in the past — no, he refuses to believe that. Hoseok refuses to let go. He refuses to move on. The past is his present. No matter what people tell him, history has affected his current circumstances, has affected where he is and what his relationship is with you. Just because it’s today and there’s a tomorrow doesn’t mean yesterday has died. “And she’s not just an ex-girlfriend.”   “Then if she was so important to you, why did you break up with her in the first place?!”   “That’s what I’m still trying to figure out!”   He runs his hands through his hair in frustration, brought to the brink of tears once again.   Hoseok was losing his goddamn mind.   “I didn’t bring it up because I knew it was painful.” There’s an extended silence and Sowon sighs, moving to sit on the couch. He follows after her, falling down, slumped poster, downcasted head, defeated. “A few days before your accident, you called me on the phone. Drunk. You told me the entire time, you thought Y/N depended on you too much. She was ready to give up everything to be with you, and you didn’t want that. It was too much pressure. It was too much for you. But it turns out, you were the one who depended the most on her.”   The two of them look at each other again. “You were a mess, you know. And this was months after the break up. This was months after you packed your bags and left this place.” A wistful sighs leaves her mouth and she tips her head to stare at the ceiling, recounting the weeks before her brother landed himself in the terrible accident, telling him everything that she knows. “You were the one who broke up with her. But even after so much time, you were a mess. You even told me you wanted to quit law school.”   “What?”   His work is his sole passion. It’s his life. His practice. Hearing that he wanted to quit out loud sounds so entirely absurd. He wonders how much pain he was in, what his mindset was like, if he had trouble getting out of bed, if he was really as broken as his sister describes. It sounds like she’s speaking about a different person — he doesn’t know if he can believe it.   But at this point, everything was nonsensical.   “Yep. I was shocked too. After you told me that, I knew something was wrong.” A small smile graces her lips and Sowon whispers like it’s a secret she shouldn’t share, but she spills it anyways, “Y/N loved you. A lot. I knew it from the first time you introduced me to her. Our parents adored her too. We thought….‘Thank god. Hoseok finally found someone so amazing that he was going to marry and grow old with. He doesn’t need to feel lonely anymore’. Or at least, that’s what mom and dad hoped for. But….”   He swallows the thick lump in his throat. It physically hurts to hear what she has to say, yet he aches to hear more. “But?”   “I also knew she loved you a lot more than you loved her.”   The heavy atmosphere thickens, suffocating him. It feels like someone’s struck him across the face. The amount of shock is unbearable and his grip on what is real and what isn’t bleeds together like watercolours on a canvas. Part of him wants to shut his ears, refuse to believe these things, that he and you were once in love, that you had dated for nearly half-a-decade, that he was going to marry you, and now he doesn’t have a single memory of these things.   Maybe this urge for denial was what you were so fixated on.   “I didn’t bring it up because I didn’t want you to remember something so painful. It was better for you to forget. And I figured if she was that important to you, if you truly loved and cared for her, you wouldn’t have broken up with her in the first place.” Sowon inhales another breath. “I didn’t tell you because it wouldn’t be fair to Y/N…”   He lets it sink in. “Did I always treat her so badly?”   “I don’t know. You’re one hell of an asshole, that’s for sure.”   “Y/N deserves better.”   His sister scoffs and shakes his head, telling him that he’s got it all wrong. Again. “Don’t pin this on her. It’s you who needs to clean up your act.”   //   It’s a sunny day, clear skies the vivid shade of azure. As irrational as it is, he can’t help but feel like the weather is taunting him. The cloudless horizon fitting for summer mocks the anguish he feels. He’d rather it rain. For fog to dim the brightness. For the outside to be as miserable as he is on the inside.   Hoseok’s been sitting in his car for the past hour, parked right outside of a suburban street. He’s a coward who doesn’t know what to say, how to make things better, who hesitates more than he acts. But the one thing he knows is that he can’t ignore this. He can’t be like you and pretend that it didn’t happen. He can’t act like you mean nothing to him. He’s more sure than ever that you are the answer to what he’s been missing most.   So with a large inhale, Jung Hoseok opens his car door and gets out. He takes yet another deep breath and crosses the street, stepping up to the house. If he was being honest to himself, he was absolutely terrified, not sure if his words or efforts will be of any use, not sure what the response will be. But he pushes fear to the back of his mind, braces himself, and rings the doorbell.   Hoseok waits. He waits and waits. He’ll wait as long as he needs to.   Eventually, the door creaks open and you’re there. He notices that your neck brace is gone, your whiplash most likely recovering better than expected, but your left shoulder is still in a sling. The bruises on your face have faded in colour and although your eyes were puffy from crying, it seemed like you were gradually making a smooth recovery from the accident.   “Hoseok?” You’re frozen in your spot, eyes wide, clad in pajamas. “What are you doing here? How did you even find—”   “The address was on your emergency contact form. I—...you didn’t pick up your phone.”   You’re panicked, turning around slightly before back at him and lowering your voice. “You need to leave, Hoseok. Now.”   “No, wait—!” He holds his hands at the door frame and before you can think twice, delayed in your thought processes, you’ve slammed the front door forward. It jams, catching on his fingers. He winces back with a sharp shout and you gasp.   “Oh my god!” You shove the door open again, grabbing his hand with your uninjured one. “Are you okay?!”   “I’m sorry.” He ignores the throbbing pain, the swelling digits and spits out what he’s been meaning to say before it’s too late and he’s run out of chances. “I’m sorry.” Your grip on his hand loosens and he clutches it tighter before it can slip through the gaps of his fingers. His voice is quiet and desperate. “I’m sorry.”   “That…” You stare towards the ground, cotton filling your mouth. “...that doesn’t make it any better.”   “I know,” Hoseok whispers.   There’s no point. “You don’t even remember.” He doesn’t even know what he’s apologizing for.   “I know I blamed you for not telling me — I’m sorry.” Hoseok swallows hard and looks at you past his bangs that have begun to poke into his reddened eyes. You can’t recall the last time he looked so disheveled and…..sad. “I know that I left you and that I hurt you — I’m sorry.”   “I don’t blame you for what happened back then,” you interject before he can continue with his endless apologies that sound too genuine, but are meaningless to you. Your hand is taken from his grasps, returning to your side. “At least not anymore. You don’t even remember us. You don’t remember what you did. So, there’s no need for all of….this.”   Hoseok searches for what to say. “I don’t want you to quit because of me.”   “I wasn’t planning to,” you tell him with confidence, looking directly into his pupils. “Our personal and professional relationship are two different things and I love my job. Not even our past would make me give up on what I love. I’m not like how I used to be…” Your voice trails off and you sigh, meeting his gaze once more. “So you can go home now if that’s it.”   He speaks up before you can close the door again, too pathetic and desperate to talk to you. “I’m not done.”   “Then what else do you have to say?” you question the man who stands front of you and appears less like the put together lawyer, less like the bubbly boy you know, and more like the shadow of someone broken. It’s not fair. He was the one who dumped you after all. “What did you come here for, Hoseok? Was it just to say that you were sorry? So you can feel less guilty? Was it so you can make sure your HR manager is still working and you won’t have to hire someone new?”   “I...I-...I want us to be okay.”   You nod. It makes sense. He always thought about business first and wants to make sure it doesn’t interfere at the workplace. You can agree with that. “We’re okay then.”   But then Hoseok asks again, like he’s seeking a deeper answer, like he wants to know what you truly think and that it’s not simply business-related. “Are we?” His smooth timbre is far too sincere and seeking — it makes you shift uneasily.   “When I went to that interview more than half a year ago, Hoseok, I decided that we were okay. When I got the job and I had to see you everyday, I decided that it was okay.” With how many times you’re repeating it, it’s almost as if you’re trying to convince yourself. “It was okay before you knew, and it’ll be okay now. So is there anything else? Because I think you should go.”   But Hoseok doesn’t move. He doesn’t leave or enter. He just stands at your doorway, gazing into your eyes, letting the silence simmer as if he is savouring this painful moment. He searches your eyes and you realize how difficult it is to look at him — not just because the sunlight was piercing against his backside and made the edges of his frame fuzzier in the warm light.   It’s difficult when your heart aches so much, when it feels like the knots in your chest are tightening and tightening, yet never to snap.   The pause lingers in the air and his gaze becomes too intense, too intimate.   “What are we, Y/N?”   You shake your head, brows furrowing. “What do you mean?”   “What are we?” He reiterates, asking to clarify the chaos in his mind, to understand the picture and make it more clear, to fit the puzzle pieces together and make the image complete.   You never thought there would be a day Jung Hoseok would appear at your front doorstep, begging for forgiveness and asking you the question that you’ve been wondering since this all started. You’ve dreamt about this moment for so long that you never realized it was a nightmare instead of a dream.   “You’re my boss and I’m your employee,” you assert firmly. “We’re exes that don’t let our past personal relationship affect our current professional relationship.” Your voice becomes weaker as it goes on and you shouldn’t ask, but you itch to know what’s going inside that mind of his, to know if your feelings are once again unrequited. “Why? What do you want us to be?”   He seeks your eyes earnestly, tone as soft as yours.   “Is it selfish if I want us to be more?”   “....yes...it is.” It’s too much. It’s overwhelming. Hoseok is being too honest and you swore you wouldn’t cry in front of him again. “You can’t just appear in front of me years later and tell me you want to try again. Whether or not you remember, I do and it hurts.”   “Y/N.”   “Who’s at the door?” An older woman approaches, footsteps increasing in sound, coming closer and closer. “Don’t leave it open like that! You’re going to let bugs through—”   “Mom!” Immediately, you turn around before you can process your movements and your neck becomes sore from the swift motion. Still, you attempt to cover the man at the doorway with your own body. Your efforts are fruitless.   The old woman in the purple floral apron sees right past you and she stares. It must be your mother and he muses that you share a resemblance to her. Hoseok gawks before his head dips slightly. “Hello.”   She looks at you and deadpans, “What is he doing here?”   “He was just leaving!” You rush to push him through the door, but before any of you can react, she’s grabbed the broomstick leaning against the entryway side table.   “Get out!”   “Mom!”   “Get out!” She yells and hits him with the brush end of the broomstick, scratching him. His arms lift automatically to defend his head and she screams, chasing him out until he’s stumbling back onto the lawn. “You have the audacity to show up at my house?! You’re shameless! Get out! Get away from my daughter!”   “Mom!” You run out into broad daylight when she switches the broomstick in her hand, wanting to hit him with the hard plastic handle part instead of the brush. But before she can beat him with it, you lug your body in front of Hoseok. At the same time, she strikes down and smacks your left shoulder in the sling.   A cry tears out from your throat and she drops the broom like it burns her. “Y/N! Oh my god! Oh my god!”   Hoseok’s eyes are wide, nearly falling from his sockets, brows furrowed, features twisted in sick worry. “Are you okay?!”   “Just go,” you grunt out past gritted teeth.   He begins to back away, not wanting to, but finding no other choice. Your mom scrambles by your side, giving him no time of day when she ushers you back into the house. Hoseok gets into his car, gripping his steering wheel with trembling hands, feeling more pathetic than he did before.   //   It’s tragically funny how you’re the one who has to placate your mom’s hysterics when she should be the one comforting you. But oddly enough, you feel calmer when someone else is going crazy. It’s like they’re doing it for you and you can live vicariously through their emotions.   “Was he the one who made you like this?!”   Your mom points to your shoulder and you shake your head.   “No. I told you. It was an accident.”   She leans forward, sitting at the kitchen table across from you. “Then why was he here, Y/N? What does that man want from us?!”   “I—” You don’t know what to tell her, if you can bear to reveal that you work for him now, that he doesn’t remember a single thing from the past, that he came to apologize even when he can’t recall, that he questioned what the two of you are, and how he asked you if it was selfish to want to be together.   You still can’t wrap your mind around the conversation. All you know is that it hurts. You’re at a loss. A loss for words. A loss of what to do. What to feel.   “How can you be with someone who has made you cry so much?! He left you!” Your mom is enraged, upset, and when she looks at you, your pain is also her’s. “Don’t you have any self-respect for yourself, huh?”   What’s more hurtful than Hoseok showing up at your doorstep is the truth. Your voice is hoarse. “I still love him.”   “W-What?”   “Is it so wrong to love him even after he’s done so much to hurt me, mom?”   You look at her, meeting her eyes, begging for an answer. Her hardened expression softens, mouth opening before closing, speechless. The old woman shuts her eyes, sighs and leans back into her chair. She pinches the bridge of her nose, wondering how she raises such a hopeless daughter. But her anger has dissipated into tender pity and sadness.   “I don’t want you to take beatings for him,” she whispers, like she’s the one pleading for you not to be like this anymore, not to do this, not to feel this way. There were so many people to love in this world — why did it have to be that man? “I don’t want you to run in front of him and defend him like you did earlier. Do you think this is what your dad would’ve wanted for you?”   “I can’t help it.” You’re frustrated, feeling a loss of control. It was an impulse to run to him, a reflex that doesn’t make you think twice. “I’ve tried and tried, but...I still love him. I don’t think I ever stopped.”   She calls your name gently, helpless, unable to find any other word.   “What should I do, mom?” This time it’s you who’s pleading. Pleading for a way out, for any explanation or cure. “What should I do when I’m still in love with Hoseok?”

It’s a very question that you ask yourself over and over again. Nights are spent sleepless when the realization of your emotions plague and haunt your sole being. When your denial fixation and your defense of making light of the situation have been stripped away, there are unhealed wounds left. The skin underneath your bandages are still bleeding. The stitches never mended your skin. And it’s completely pathetic how you’re still crying over an ex like this.   Eight years of recovery are washed down the drain when you still haven’t gotten over the man named Jung Hoseok.   “Hello.” You end up sounding chirpier than the voice droning inside your head. “Where are we off to this evening?”   “Hello.” The older woman smiles, wrinkles creasing around her eyes, grey streaks vivid in her hair that’s pulled into a low bun. “I believe it’s called Sunnyside Street.”   “Alright.” The traffic is heavier on this main road and as you wait for it to pass before pulling away, you glance into the rear-view mirror. “Are you having a good night so far?”   “Yes.” The apples of her cheeks blush in a bright shade, glowing and making the old woman look much younger and more radiant. “I went on one of the greatest dates with my boyfriend.”   “That’s so nice.” You melt a little, a tiny smile taking its place on your visage.   “And how are you, dear?”   “Honestly…” It’s a loaded question and for a second, you can only answer with a long sigh. The old woman has no idea that she’s about to open Pandora’s Box, that your head is a pressurized geyser ready to burst. “Not so good.”   “Oh, why not?”   “I..uh..recently dislocated my shoulder.” You leave out the part about getting into a car accident, not wanting to alarm the poor woman and make her question your driving skills. “I’m better now, but it still kind of aches sometimes.”   “My goodness. That sounds awful! You should be more careful then.”   “And that’s not all.” You laugh and it’s far too bitter than what you’re used to hearing from yourself. “I strained my neck too and I...I moved back into my mom’s house and the...the...laundry machine is broken and there’s...there’s noth...ing… in t..he fr...idge t..hat I li..ke to ea..t.”   By the time that you’re finished, you’re full on sobbing into your hands. You’re crying hysterically, vision clouded with teardrops, as if you just finished watching The Titanic or The Notebook, except this is real life and you’re not crying because of fictional characters. It’s definitely a new low when you’re having a mental breakdown in front of a passenger who’s more or less a stranger.   “Are you alright?” The sweet old lady is genuinely concerned and not as freaked out as you would be if your taxi driver suddenly bursted into tears.   “I’m still in love with my ex!” You cry out, beating the steering wheel with your closed fist like you’re punishing it. “I’m in love with him!”   “Oh, sweetheart.” She leans forward, patting your back to comfort you. “You deserve better. It just takes some time to heal.”   “No, no. This is different.” You’re still weeping and it’s uncontrollable as it is unbearable. “He...I t-think he wants to get back together...and I love him.”   “Then what’s the problem?” She tilts her head, sympathizing. “Is it a problem with his personality?”   “No.” You shake your head, feeling like a child throwing a tantrum especially when you’re hiccuping and sniffling through every other word. “He’s sweet and kind and my best friend. He’s the nicest person I’ve ever met.”   “But?”   “W-Wh..at if...we won’t work?”   What if everything happens over again. What if this is all wrong. He’s thrown you away before and he can do it again. You can put your heart on your sleeve and he can break it once more. He wants you back after he’s abandoned you. It’s unfair. It’s cruel. And it’s pathetic that you’re even considering running back to him. It’s pathetic that you’ve even allowed him to enter your life again, that you let him stand in front of you and tell you the things you wanted to hear so badly years ago. Just because he wants you now still doesn’t change the fact of what happened, regardless if he remembers or not.   You’re crippled and you’re not so sure you have the strength to walk alongside him anymore.   “Well, that’s a question everyone asks.” Your passenger gives a gleaming smile, one that reminds you too much of him. “If things have changed and timing is good, then why not? There’s no harm in trying, right? You don’t want to be my age and look back and wonder. Take it from someone who’s only finding love now.”   Somehow, the lovely woman is more calming than you expected. She helps you breathe through your meltdown and pats your back in constant beats comfortingly until you get a grip of yourself.   “Does he make you happy?”   “Yes…”   “Then that’s your answer.” Her smile widens and she makes it sound so much simpler than it actually is. Your heart aches, torn between what you want and what you are fearful of.   //   It’s easy to make a decision. It’s much more difficult to make the right one. Maybe because most of the time, no one knows what the right decision is. No one knows what the consequences may be. A year from now, he could either leave you broken-hearted again or make you the happiest that you’ve ever been. You don’t need him. You want him. But just because your heart wants to be with him doesn’t mean you should obey to its will, especially when your mind tells you that you’re an idiot for even having such a desire.   Jung Hoseok — the epitome of sunshine, that illuminates your world and gives colour to your surroundings, painting it in vivid hues, but who pulls you away from the comfortable darkness, turning you blind, someone who used to make you feel so inadequate from his sheer radiance.   He may not have changed. But you have.   You aren’t so weak anymore. Your confidence will not be so easily swayed. But the fear of all the assurance you’ve built in the past few years crumbling is too great.   “Y/N?”   “Hey…” You clutch your phone tighter in your hand, not letting it slip even when your arm is trembling. “...how are you?”   “I’m good.” The voice on the other line is smooth and gentle. “You?”   “I...just needed someone to talk to.”   “I’m all ears.” Hani’s smile is practically heard in her voice. Your old best friend is one of the few people that actually know the history and you decided to reach out to her, chose her out of everyone else. After reconnecting, it occurred to you that no matter how much physical distance there is between you both, how much time has passed, she’ll always be a friend. You were wrong when you thought there was no one left to depend on.   At your extended silence, she pipes up again. “What’s wrong?”   “I don’t know what to do,” you murmur, slumped in your childhood bed, door shut and caught between the walls of where you grew up, before any of this had happened.   “Is this about Hoseok?”   You pause. “Yes.”   Her breath softens and steadies, heard on the other end. Hani sops whatever she was doing and you brace yourself. “Do you remember halfway through our first year?” she asks you suddenly. “Taeyeon wanted to get back together with that asshat...what’s his face...Soonyoung? God!”   A small laugh leaves through your throat, husky around the edges. “I remember.”   “On their fifth date or something, he went and invited her out to one of the most expensive restaurants and then he ditched her halfway and made her pay! He raided my fridge too. I’ll never forgive him for stealing my steak takeout,” Hani mutters, still holding the grudge. “And I couldn’t believe she was so head over heels that she wanted to get back together with him! Do you remember what we told her?”   “Yes.” You smile, beginning to feel calmer. “We told her that she deserved better.”   “Yeah and thank god she ended up with Baekho. Their kids are the cutest things ever.”   “They are,” you agree.   “What I’m saying is that it’s always been a rule of mine not to get together with an ex. You broke up for a reason and people don’t change all that much. Chances are things might not work out again for the same reasons.”   “You’re right.”   “But I don’t think anyone’s more perfect for you than Hoseok,” Hani says, unexpected and causing a thick lump to form uncomfortably in your throat. You pull the covers over your head as if it could shield you away from the light above your head that’s suddenly too bright, exposing too much. “Y/N?”   “Hmm.” You hum, acknowledging that you’re listening.   “I mean it when I say it. I obviously don’t know your relationship as well as you do, but he never mistreated you once in those four years and even when you fought, you both made it okay again. I’m not a hopeless romantic. I’m not even a believer in soulmates. But I remember back then thinking how jealous I was of you, jealous that you found someone who cherished you so much.”   Not another word is spoken from your lips, yet the female knows all too well that you heed every syllable she utters. “You can imagine my surprise when you left with him and then came back alone. I was shocked. I was really……...really rooting for the both of you.”   A long sigh is heard over the other line and you shut your eyes tight, listening to the fuzziness of her timbre, the slight white noise and buzz of speaking on the phone that makes you nostalgic of years ago when you used to curl up in your bed and talk to each other in the same manner.   “He was young then and so were you. Life was getting started, so I understand if he didn’t want to tie himself or you down so soon. You were going to get married and all and he was going to finish law school soon….” Her voice fades off into silence. “Whatever you decide, if you get back together again, it doesn’t mean you’re committing yourself to anything. There’s no harm in trying.”   You swallow hard, voice croaking when it comes out. “I just…”   “I know.” Her smile is heard in her voice again. “But it’s been eight long years since then. How many more years are you waiting for?”   //   His office seems much more suffocating than it used to. He doesn’t know why that’s the case when the walls have not altered and his furniture stays the same. Still, Hoseok’s eyes stray off to the window, caught in a daze. He’s going against everything he stands for, the code of professionalism, of not overstepping boundaries, of not imposing himself onto you.   Being with you makes him selfish.   Every time, Hoseok’s eyes wander unintentionally, it always lands on you, finding it so easy to pick you out in a crowd of people. And he always feels sad when he looks at you. Hoseok doesn’t think he could ever make up or atone for what he’s done. The entire time, he thought you were playing him as the fool when you were actually sparing him and suffering silently.   You bear the burden of those memories alone.   He wonders what you thought every day when you passed by his office, when you ate with him, spoke to him, laughed with him, and he was completely oblivious. It’s sheerly mind boggling that you were his fiancée at some point in his life. In a million years, he could’ve never imagined the person he hired, the person who he works alongside would’ve meant so much to his former self.   “Jung Hoseok?”   “Yes? My apologies.” The lawyer looks back to his client across from him. “You were saying?”   “I was thanking you for all the work you’ve done for me.” The young man, no more than twenty-four, smiles. “But I spoke about it to my wife and in the end we decided we’re going to stay together.”   “You’re staying together?” He frowns, unable to quite understand.   The male nods. “We’ve been seeing a counselor together and we decided to pull through or at least see what happens.”   The corner of Hoseok’s mouth quirks. “I’ll admit, I’m a bit surprised.”   “I know. As they say, love isn’t all rainbows and butterflies.” The man nods to himself, explaining the situation to make sense of it. “It was difficult for her when the honeymoon stage of our relationship ended. I still loved her...but maybe not like how I used to. But y’know, we got the break we needed and we talked and I missed her a lot. I realized it wasn’t that I didn’t love her anymore. It was more like our love had just become a bit different.” The smile that appears on the young man’s lips are reserved more for himself. “We made a choice to stay together.”   “Alright then.” The lawyer shakes his client’s hand, both standing up to conclude the meeting. “Call me again if you ever need to.”   “Hopefully, I won’t,” he laughs.   Hoseok always regarded himself as the Grim Reaper of marriages. He breaks off relationships every day, calling their time of death in the courthouse, severing unions meant to last a lifetime. It’s not often that he loses business like this, but it’s still refreshing to see someone walk out of his office still with their spouse and content with it.   “Hoseok?” Jimin snaps his fingers, forming right in front of him like a magician. “Are you okay?”   “I’m fine. What?”   “You’re just standing there staring off.” He leans in, whispering and finally pressing the button to call for the elevator. “You’re kind of freaking out our poor receptionists.”   “Sorry.” Hoseok blinks a few times, trying to break out of his trance.   “There’s been something off about you. Are you sure you’re alright?” Jimin’s brow is raised in skepticism, crossing his arms and tapping his foot. “Speaking of which, I’ve also caught wind that there’s something weird going on between you and Y/N. Care to explain? Does it have anything to do with the fact that she took two weeks off work?”   “It’s nothing,” he reassures and makes it short, not wanting to divulge in his personal problems and not knowing where to even begin. Hoseok steps into the elevator when the doors part, feeling the thumps of an oncoming headache.   “Then you won’t mind telling Y/N about the upcoming weekend vacation?”   “It’s this weekend?”   “Yes, it’s this weekend. Did you forget? All the expenses paid for the entire firm to go relax. We talked about it for a month.”   “It just...slipped my mind.”   Nothing ever slips Hoseok’s mind. He is punctual, organized, methodical. Jimin knows that much, but he doesn’t pester him about it. “Remind Y/N too. She must’ve forgotten.”   Hoseok often bends to Jimin’s will, giving in to his partner for the sake of harmony, but this is one of the few times he doesn’t. Instead, he tells Seulgi to inform you and when she asks why he won’t do it himself, he answers with a glare, making the female purse her lips and remember her boss before you came along and softened his tyranny.   Seulgi doesn’t come to your office alone either, bringing along Lisa, Dahyun and Sunyi with her.   “Oh yeah, I almost forgot about that.” A smile more tense than intended appears on your face. “Thanks for reminding me.”   “Y/N….it might not be my place…” Sunyi glances at the other females, hesitating. “So, don’t feel pressured to tell us...if we’re making you uncomfortable then...you know...we’ll leave…”   “Oh, just cut to the chase.” Lisa rolls her eyes and looks directly at you, never favouring the method of beating around the bush. “Is Hoseok going to fire you?”   “What? No.” Or at least, you don’t think so.   “Good or else we’ll join together and beat him up.” Dahyun grins, cheeks puffing out, Lisa having rubbed off on the girl and making her more brave.    You smile, but Seulgi doesn’t completely buy it. “Is there something going on then?”   The legal assistant is too sharp. She’s quickly caught on that you no longer speak to each other, that you don’t even look at each other. Except, when you’re not paying attention, Hoseok stares at you while wearing the most guilty expression she’s ever seen from him. You both look terribly sad, a stark contrast to just a few weeks ago when you were practically best friends in the office.   “No, not really,” you lie.   “Well, we’re here for you if you need it!” Sunyi reaffirms enthusiastically. “Don’t be afraid of him. If he does something to you, just tell us. I’m a lawyer. I’ve been looking for excuses to sue Hoseok anyways.”   “I’m a paralegal,” Seulgi adds on with a sheepish smile, brushing away her suspicions to try to cheer you up.   “I have a knack for fighting with my fists.” Lisa jumps into a boxing stance and you laugh. You really needed this, you really needed to be reminded of why you loved this job so much.   “I..uh...have poison ivy in my garden,” Dahyun says out of the blue, having nothing else to offer and also making each of them turn towards her with a frown. You grin, genuinely feeling better.   You’re not alone. There are great people in your life that you had pushed aside and you’ve met great people being here. Jung Hoseok just happens to be one of them. He’s not the only one.

Belongings packed, house keys tucked away, baggage left all behind. You really needed this — a place to relax, a place where it wasn’t so hard to breathe. But you’re not so sure how much it’ll help considering he’s here too.   It feels as if you’re running in the same spot. Only the sceneries happen to change. The train was lulling you, engine chugging along the tracks, the carts making small bumps and causing bodies to jolt, knees to knock. One glance across the aisle and you find Hoseok not doing work like he usually would. He stares out the window, motionlessly, not awake or asleep.   You know that you’re prolonging the inevitable. You’re making him suffer like you are, stuck in purgatory with no answers. The time has arrived to come to grips with what’s changed, what’s been revealed.   “We finally arrived!” Jin stretches his arms above his head, causing his backpack to bump into a mother holding a screaming toddler. She glares and he mutters an apology.   “Finally.” Yoongi sighs. “My ass hurts.”   “It always hurts.” Sunyi rolls her eyes, gripping the handle of her suitcase with both hands.   “Yeah.” He smirks. “Because of the things you do to it.”   The female lawyer flushes red from her chin to her hairline. Though, she doesn’t back down either. “Like what? Your ass is a deflated balloon, Min. No one can even spank it because they’d miss!”   Jimin interferes before it can spiral out of control. “Break it up you two.” He glances at you and Hoseok. “And you two need to get your chins up! Stop looking so miserable! We’re finally here!”   “I’m just a bit tired...that’s all.” The corners of your mouth move upwards — it seems to do it on its own nowadays without you even needing to force it too much.   “We should get to the hostel,” Namjoon agrees.   “But I’m hungry,” Taehyung childishly sighs, leaning his weight on the youngest lawyer. “Let’s go get a bite to eat!”   “I’m kind of hungry too,” Jungkook pitches his opinion in, though his eyes wander towards you in concern.   “Can we really bring all our luggage and backpacks to a restaurant?” Inyoung asks, securing her sunhat over her head and shielding her face away from the rays.   “I don’t see why not,” Lisa says, “We didn’t bring that much stuff to begin with.”   “Okay.” Jimin mediates the issue since it’s obvious that you’re out of it. He doesn’t mind much and finds a simple solution. “We can split off into two groups. Those who want to eat and those who want to rest.” There’s a murmur with the crowd, agreeing and they move into two different hordes. He looks off at you and Hoseok. “What about you guys?”   You take a deep breath before channeling a bright smile. “I’d actually love to go sightseeing. I’m not that hungry and I think it’s a waste to just go to the hostel now.” Your feet automatically shift towards Hoseok and you tip your head to one side. “Want to come?”   His eyes are large, staring back into yours. “Me? S-..sure….”   “Are you sure?” Jungkook’s brows furrow, concerned for your well-being. “Didn’t you say you were tired?”   “I’m feeling better now that I’m off the train.” They’re fairly convinced by how well you act.   Yet, Jimin’s gaze remains pointed, as if he can so easily read between the lines. A few others can as well, like Seulgi and Yoongi who seem to understand beneath the perfected exteriors. But none of them ask, playing dumb and agreeing, turning away to get a move on. “Alright! Sounds like a plan! Catch you later then.”   The pair of you linger at the station, watching the group go off and strangers who pass by, going towards the train that whistles for passengers to board. You brace yourself in the chaos of people before looking at Hoseok. “I think we should talk.”   “Okay.”   //   It’s a quaint café, one that you do not know, but still welcomes you as though you are a regular. The both of you slip into a window seat, the rest of the world shining behind a pane of glass. Across from you, he takes a sip of his drink, eyes boring into the wooden table while you grasp your coffee cup.   It’s tragically ironic — it reminds you too much of your first day with him, but the scene is recreated for an entirely different reason.   “Can I start?” Hoseok finds courage to meet your gaze and you nod. He takes a deep exhale, setting down his cup. “I’ve been thinking about it for the past few days and….you’re right — we shouldn’t let our past personal relationship affect our current professional relationship. I’m your boss and I shouldn’t make you uncomfortable. It was stupid of me.”   He continues with a long sigh. “You….you deserve to be with someone who can make you happy, Y/N. I’m sorry for even thinking that I...that I...”   It’s the same as it was before. It’s exactly the same as eight years ago, how he prefaced it before breaking off the engagement in the quietness of your apartment. History will repeat itself.   Except, you won’t let it.   Jung Hoseok left you confused and hurt, questioning every quality about yourself. You allowed him to slip from your fingertips, damage you in the process, and you won’t let it happen again. You won’t let yourself be broken by Jung Hoseok anymore.   “You deserve better.”   Like a mantra memorized over lonely nights, over tear-stained pillows, printed to the forefront of your consciousness, everything you should’ve said years ago, they befall from your lips— “Bullshit.”   “I deserve better? Why can’t you be better?” The silence between you both settles to suffocate and he is caught in startlement, cotton filling his mouth, urging you to persist. “Why can’t you make me happy? Why can’t it be you?”   “I—”   “I never took you for being so fickle, Hoseok. I didn’t know you would change your mind so fast.” He had bursted into your home, was chased out by your mother, and now sits in front of you, telling you the opposite of what he had asked. “Don’t make this about our professional relationship and don’t try to act like this won’t affect us anyways. Don’t make up such bullshit excuses for your laziness. Don’t make up excuses because you don’t want to be with me.”   “That’s not it!” He shouts and lowers his voice when people turn around to glare. His frustration clogs his throat, making it difficult to speak — torn between doing what’s responsible and doing something for himself. “I….want to be with you.”   “Then try harder.” The beat of silence lingers. “Don’t you have any confidence in us?”   “I don’t have any confidence in myself,” he reveals, uttering what you had felt all those years ago. His chest rises and falls, hyperventilating and your eyes trace against each of his lashes, past the slope of his nose, the dips of his cupid’s bow. Hoseok was a man of many things, but one of his best qualities is how he’s always been sincere in everything he says and does.   “I’m scared,” he whispers. “I don’t remember what I did to you and I don’t know if I’ll do it again, Y/N. I don’t even remember how I fucked up and….and I want you to have the best and that’s...that’s not me.”   “I don’t want the best.” You gaze at him, speaking past the lump in your throat. This moment is eight years too late. But these are the words that have been waiting for that long. Eight years. This is what you should’ve said — when you should’ve come back for him — when you should’ve fought for what you wanted instead of giving up so easily. The blame is on you as much as it is on him. “Have you asked me what I wanted?”   You’ve a decision. Should’ves end here.   “I...”   “I want you.” Your voice is firm, finally matching to how you wanted it to be, finally in your control again. The leap of courage is taken and you wager your time, your heart, your feelings. One last time. “I want you.”   Your eyes are locked onto the man named Jung Hoseok, your boss, best friend, partner of four wonderful years, ex-fiancé. “Try to be the best. Try and that’s enough. It’s enough for me. I let you break my heart before, Hoseok. I won’t let a second time happen.”

[yaachtynoboat711]

Fonder 6

A/N: Yes, I’m back like I never left! I’ve been hella busy this summer and I’m just happy to be checking back in. It’s been a little over a year since I began writing and I must say, I’m happy to still be doing this. I love y’all and the encouragement, support, and creative guidance some of you all have given me for the past year!

Word Count: ~3.2K

Warning(s): Fluff, Language, a dash of angst

Thursday, March 19, 2015, 6:19 p.m., Philadelphia

Today was the day: Michael and Khalida were meeting each other’s parents. Due to the filming of his upcoming film Creed , Michael temporarily relocated to Philadelphia. With him three hours away, Yaa was able to visit him as much as her schedule would allow her to. Now, here they were in his car headed to dinner. Both were visibly nervous and reasonably so. Michael paid special attention to the road as he drove his anxiety away. Yaa was deep in her phone checking and responding to work-related emails. In any event of distress, her first choice of relief was work—a drug of choice. As much as she tried to keep her composure, the constant shaking of her foot was the dead giveaway. In an attempt to console his nervous girlfriend, Michael gripped part of Yaa’s thick thigh.

“Hey...it’s ok to be nervous, sugar bear. Not to make you any more nervous than you already are, but my parents can at times be...a lot to handle. Buuut, I’m more than confident that you can be able to handle them. I’ve seen you go against lawyers that’ve practiced law longer than you’ve been alive and you don’t even flinch. So if you can deal with them, then Donna and Michael A. are the least of your concerns.”, Michael comforted as he kept his eyes on the road.

Yaa finally sent her last e-mail for the weekend and locked her phone. “Yeah, but the biggest difference between those old ass lawyers and your parents is that I haven’t slept with any lawyer’s son. Even further, you haven’t met my parents; they take bougie to a whole new dimension. I just don’t know how our parents are going to mix, y’know?” Michael drove in silence, contemplating on what Yaa had just said. “I’m sorry, Kari, that was a lot. I’m just...nervous.” Yaa lowered her head as she realized that she may have spoken too much, at least in her head.

Looking out of the car window, Yaa got lost in the Spotify playlist playing throughout the car. Without a word, Michael took Yaa’s hand into his and kissed the top of her knuckles gently. Her straight face quickly turned into a slight grin. “I love you, Peanut.”, she muttered.

Michael rolled his eyes, “I love you too, sugar bear.”

Forno Rosso, 5:36 p.m.

By the time Yaa and Michael arrived at the restaurant, their parents were already seated and well into conversation. The circular table was located towards the back in a corner, which according to the restaurant’s owner, was the best spot for an intimate dinner despite the sounds of people conversing and plates clacking. The couple walked to the back hand in hand to find the other only Black people in the restaurant--their parents.

“Well, speak of the Devil, there go our babies!”, Khadijah announced as she got up. After the seemingly never-ending round of hugs ended, the couple began introducing each other to parents.

“Mom, Pops, this is my girlfriend, Dr. Khalida Abdullah. Baby, these are my parents, Donna and Michael A. Jordan.”, Michael announced as he observed his parents’ reaction to hearing their son’s girlfriend’s name be prefaced with Doctor.

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, sweetheart. Michael hasn’t shut up about you since New Years, and I must say, now it makes sense to see why you were the only thing he talked about. Isn’t she a pretty girl, baby?”, Ms. Donna greeted as she shook Yaa’s hand. With her husband’s affirming headshake, the handshake turned into yet another hug for Mr. and Mrs. Jordan.

“He talks about you two all the time also and thank you so much!”, Yaa replied. “Now, Kari, these are my parents, Drs. Khadijah and Mustapha Abdullah. Baba, Umi, this is Michael B. Jordan, my boyfriend.”

“Well, praise the Lord! Dreams do come true. My ibby has been dating you in her head for about 12 years. Finally a pleasure to meet you, son.”, Mustapha greeted, making sure to embarrass his daughter. Mission accomplished. “How are you treating my baby? Sublime, I hope?”

Michael looked to Yaa, who was in a side conversation with Khadijah. “Of course, Dr. Abdullah. There’s no reason for her to be treated any less or different.”

He was definitely keeping that Gatsby energy up—he sent her a dozen sunflowers every other Thursday and treated the office to lunch every now and again.For Valentine’s, the two went to Paris, where he officially asked her out. Apart from the lavish showering of affection and bomb sex, the two had a friendship and a connection that couldn’t be denied. Unlike Winston, Michael supported her career and her work ethic. In times she had to leave or cancel dates because she was called to emergency meetings? He didn’t want to, but he encouraged her to go on. The countless nights she was knee-deep in research? He definitely understood. Spending the night at the office? You bet your last dollar Michael was up with her. In those instances, he’d be sure to have food delivered to her. He even came to some of the trials she had to serve in. Though he didn’t want to admit it, seeing her in her zone turned him on. He respected her craft and her passion and vice versa. Their budding romance had actualized significantly slower than hers with Winston—she preferred that. Apart from the sugar daddy shit, she was finally in a “normal” relationship.

*****

The group’s dinner was running smoothly. The parents got along surprisingly well. Being that they were around the same age, the four related to each other. As for Michael and Yaa, they got along with each other’s parents really well. Hell, they were the lost son and daughter their parents secretly wanted.

Everyone took turns telling general stories about current life happenings and the parents even took the time to tell embarrassing stories about their children. The more they told stories, the further Michael and Yaa slumped in their chairs in shame. Yaa definitely didn’t want to re-visit her first day of high school, which if you were coming into high school at 11, a nightmare was destined to happen on the first day. Mustapha still found it especially funny after almost 14 years. Thankfully, Khadijah found a way to keep her first-born from dying at the dinner table.

“Enough about Khali’s first day at St. Dominic’s, honey. Ibby’s still a bit traumatized. But since we’re on the subject of first experiences,the question of the hour has yet to be asked or answered: how’d you two lovebirds meet?”

Silence. Because neither wanted to explain to their parents that they’d spent the wee hours of 2015 fucking each other senseless, Yaa especially preferred her father tell more embarassing stories about her awkward middle school-esque experiences at St. Dominic’s Girls Prep. But instead of conveying their anxiety with their facial expressions, the two stared at each other until Michael finally spoke up. “Well, Dr. Khadijah... I had the privilege of meeting your daughter at a Great Gatsby-themed New Year’s party that I hosted. Tanisha told me about her and I would’ve been stupid not to invite her...so I did. We...talked all night and up until the…next morning. We haven’t stopped talking to each other since. ” Michael looked to Yaa from across the table whenever he paused, attempting to make his “story” appear more credible than it was.

“Well...son, I’m happy you’ve finally found someone who makes you happy as Khalida does. Moreover, I’m happy to have met two new friends in Khadijah and Mustapha. Here’s to new beginnings and relationships!”, Donna saluted as she raised her glass of water. The table toasted and continued on with the night.

*************

Even after their children pleaded for them to come, the Jordan’s and Abdullah’s decided to opt out of going to the 76ers-Pelicans game following dinner. Though a blow, Michael and Yaa continued on with their date night. As the two sat in game night traffic, Michael couldn’t help but to take in his girlfriend’s beautiful profile. Her thick, oversized tortoise-shell glasses rested perfectly on the tip of her wide button nose. Her full lips were painted with the brightest red lipstick she could get her hands on. Her simple white turtleneck and jeans outfit was so simple, yet so...Khalida. Since the 76ers were playing Yaa’s New Orleans Pelicans, it was important for her to bring her Big Easy pride to the City of Brotherly Love. Though she wasn’t much for flashy jewelry, she made it a point to wear both her gold fleur-de-lis necklace and her Super Bowl ring. Such a flex.

Wells Fargo Arena, 9:17 p.m.

“YOOOOOO! THAT WAS A FOUL, REF, ARE YOU SERIOUS RIGHT NOW?!?!?!”, Yaa shouted out as she shot up from her courtside seat. Michael was being entertained by the antics of his passionate date. She basically coached the game while sitting down, one hand interlocked with Michael’s and the other hand occasionally used to give direction to her beloved Pelicans, and nursing her second glass of moscato. Michael found himself laughing at her sincerity, gassing her up every now and then to reaffirm her sideline gripe.

“That’s right, baby!” “Y’all heard the lady!”

The two really looked like a couple. Not saying that their chemistry indicated otherwise; but this was their first public outing. The Paparazzi seemed to take notice of the two—cameras from all around the arena were tuning in to see Michael B. Jordan and his non-model date be boo’d up with one another. It was obvious that the two were being photographed. They could’ve given half a collective fuck what social media said about their relationship. If anything, they kinda absorbed the sudden attention.

It was Kiss Cam time. Couples throughout the arena were caught off-guard and gave their significant others quick, yet meaningful kisses.

“Well, damn, I guess niggas on the front row ain’t in love?”, Michael joked as he watched the other couples display their affection.

Yaa downed the rest of her wine, her eyes fixed on her sulking boyfriend.“I know you fuckin’ lyin. I just know you are, Kari.”,Yaa quickly responded as she started laughing.

“Naw, I ain’t. But I’m saying, if you had a date that looked good enough to eat, you’d want for them to be seen, too. That’s all I’m saying, baby.”

Yaa rolled her eyes at his antics, “You’re pathetic, you know that, right?”

Just as it seemed as the segment was over, the cameraman saved the best for last. The camera pointed at Yaa and Michael mid-laugh. Without hesitation, Michael gripped her chin and allowed his lips to taste the wine left on her lips. Damn, he’s a good kisser. Yaa pulled back first, her face more red than an Alabama home game.

“Oh, so you frontin’ for the cameras, I see.”, he whispered in her ear. A genuine cackle escaped her lips. “You gon’ stop, Kari!”

11:36 p.m.

Even though the game was in overtime, Yaa and Michael decided to leave early, in the interest of beating traffic and grabbing some late-night munchies. Clear and confident with their decision, the two made a quick beeline towards the tunnel. Unfortunately, with their decision came a flock of paparazzi behind them. The closer they got to the exit, the more cameras seemed to appear. Fuck. Whatever you do, don’t let go of his hand! Their brisk walk quickly turned into a jog. “Michael! Who’s the lucky lady?” “What’s your name?!” “I thought you only dated models, Mike? She doesn’t look like a model.” That last comment got the best of Yaa. “Aye, ya mammy doesn’t either, yet here we are!”, she scolded. As they made the last left turn to the exit, a group of maybe 10 camera people began their flashing light dance. This time, they weren’t moving out of the way. Michael stopped to assess a strategy.

“The hell you stop for?!”, a clearly shaken Yaa demanded.

“I need a plan. They don’t look like they’re going to move out of the way.”, Michael replied as he stared off in the exit’s direction. Yaa’s chest rose and fell as quickly as her heart was beating. Suddenly, her hand trembled in his and a slight sweat appeared on her forehead. Her fear-driven adrenaline was going into overdrive as the paparazzi came closer.

“Fuck, Winston, they’re everywhere!”, Yaa commented loud enough for only the two of them to hear. But before Michael could get pissed, he snatched her hand and made his way through the thick media jungle. Shuttering cameras, seizure-inducing flashing lights, and loud overlapping questions further added to the circus they walked through.

“Michael!” “Michael!” “ Mr. Jordan!” “Who is she? “How long are you in Philly? “Can you tell us about the movie?” “Michael, who’s your friend?” “How’s Cre—”. The clearly rambunctious questions being asked became muffled as the car doors closed. The two sat in somewhat silence as they tried to catch their breath. “Remind me...to never go anywhere else with you. Because that...that... was... bullshit.”, Yaa remarked in between breaths.

“I’ve never had the paps out on me like that. You ok? That was jus—did you really call me Winston back there?!”, Michael answered.

“I did? Oh shit, I’m so sorry!”

SOMEWHERE IN LOS ANGELES, 8:40 p.m.

“Aye, bro? Your ex, Klarissa, the real thick one, got dreads, right?”, Winston’s college friend Jamar asked as his furrowed brows remained glued to his phone.

“Klari-...you mean Khalida? Yeah. Why you ask?”, Winston asked as he handed Jamar another water.

“Looks like she’s on a date with...hold on…”, he took his glasses off to clean them and put them back on, “...Michael B. Jordan? She all up on this nigga, Duke.”

A date? Winston snatched the phone out of Jamar’s hand, “Gimme that and stop messing around, bro.” Sure enough, Jamar was right.

DEVELOPING: ACTOR MICHAEL B. JORDAN AND CINDERELLA DATE SPOTTED AT BASKETBALL GAME IN PHILADELPHIA

As he read the brief article, he began shaking his head involuntarily. He went numb with every paparazzi picture he saw of his Yaa and Michael holding hands. But when he saw the kiss cam picture and another picture of them exchanging smiles, that’s all his heart could stand to bear.

His chest felt numb and totally void of any sensation or urge of movement. She looks...happy. It’s one thing to lose a loved one in death, but to lose the one you truly love to someone else and to see them happier with them is a different kind of hurt. His heart had been dropped onto a cactus; pricked and pained, but not yet bleeding. In that very moment, Winston wanted to ball up into the fetal position and isolate himself from the rest of the world. Career, family, life in general be damned. Duke...yo, Duke!

“DUKE!”, Jamar snapped Winston out of his moment of despair.

“Yeah?”, Winston replied dryly.

“Aye, bruh, you good?”

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?” He didn’t realize his face and the top of his tank were wet from the excessive crying he’d did. Hell, he didn’t even know he was crying.

“Well, your ex is off dating movie stars and you’re funeral sobbing. She ain’t dead: she’s just moved on. You gotta allow her to move on and be happy. Besides, she ain’t say shit when you were with that crazy ass chick.”

“You know...I’m uh...gonna go to bed? Yeah, I’m going to bed. Lock the door when you leave . Goodnight.”

Before Jamar could get another word in, Winston walked briskly to his bedroom, slammed the door, and began to pace the floor. His chest began to heave as his sobbing intensified with every step. I fucked up, I fucked up, shit, I fucked up. No,no,no, no, no. She’s really moved on? All the women in the world, and he chose Khalida?! MY Khalida?!?! Fuck.

At some point, he was in denial that he saw Khalida in those pictures, because she surely wouldn’t have been kissing Michael B. Jordan. As much as he didn’t want to, he forced himself to go back to The Shade Room’s website to look at the article. Maybe, it could’ve been another thick woman with now ash blonde locs that shared similar tastes in optical wear. Maybe it was another beautiful Black woman that rocked bright red lipstick and wore black nail polish. Maybe, just maybe, the pretty lady in question’s embellished “K” brooch stood for something else, like, Kenya,Kenzie, or Kayla. Yeah, that was it: mistaken identity. Jamar knew how his best friend felt about Khalida and wanted to play around. Yup—case closed. But, when he looked at a new picture, his already confirmed suspicions were confirmed once more. As the two walked out of the arena and into the pool of flashing lights and voices fighting each other to be heard, Yaa naturally shielded her face with her right hand—the hand her Super Bowl ring always inhabited. Damn.

“FUUUCK!” ,he yelled at the top of his lungs.

He took deep breaths to calm down, certain that he’d startled his neighbors with his tantrum. “Why are you doing this to me, Yaa?”

Back in Philly, 12:30 a.m.

The maddening silence in the car made the 25 minute ride feel like a 12 hour ride. For Yaa, the obvious feeling of shame veiled over her. How could she call Michael “Winston” of all people at a time as that? Now, bitch, you knew better than that. You knew not to call that man no damn Winston. Try to fix it now. Her quick glances over to the driver side were calculated in the hopes that he wouldn’t see the shame over her face.

For Michael, it was much different. He knew that he obviously couldn’t be pissed , but he wasn’t necessarily fond of being called an ex of Yaa’s. He took the sound of silence to figure out what he needed to feel. Slight disappointment. Yeah, that was it: upon close self-deliberation, he had determined that he was just disappointed. Yet, the wave of his current emotion wouldn’t overtake him, as he knew that she wouldn’t be a repeat offender. A simple mistake made in the heat of the moment. Besides, he needed to meet that Winston fellow anyways.

Yaa finally broke the silence, “Baby, I’m sorry that I—” Her eyes crossed to take note of the index finger Michael had placed over her mouth. She looked over to see a silent Michael nodding his head subtly.

“You don’t need to apologize, love. I get it: in the heat of emotions and the moment, you reverted to calling a familiar name. You haven’t found yourself to be in a difficult situation with me, so now I understand.”, Michael explained as he finally removed his finger from over her lips,

“If anyone should be apologizing, it should definitely be me. I brought this attention to us. But, I can’t promise that that’ll be the last encounter with those nosy ass niggas.”

“Sooo...you’re not mad?”, a confused Yaa inquired for clarification.

He nodded, “Nah, in that moment, my ego was hurt, but since I’ve been driving, that fake anger was reduced to understanding. You’re good, mamas. Believe that.”

The two exchanged a glance and a laugh. Finally, the tense air had been cleared to play music. Yaa opened up her Spotify driving playlist and pressed shuffle. Ironically, “Say My Name” began playing, prompting a duet of a “Yoooooo!” to play background to the song.

“This shuffle ain’t shit!”, Yaa moaned with disgust.

THE HOT GIRL TAG LIST:

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[artsharish]

Value of Education

This is not my story but that of my mom. She is the most versatile women I have ever seen with an indomitable will power.

I was born in a very humble background, and have 3 more siblings- two sisters and a brother who is the youngest of all. My father had 3 brothers and a little sister to feed besides his parents. We all lived together in a dorm in Delhi.

I remember the days of utmost misery we all faced. My father used to work as a bus conductor  for Delhi Transport Corporation and his earnings were not enough to feed the big family of ours.  Days were very harsh, we never knew that we will get dinner today or not.

So mom took some menial works of stiching saari falls, making undergarments for small kids- using the sewing machine and bindi making. She used to work for almost whole day .  Till today she complains of pain in her hands due to these works. She has always stood shoulder to shoulder with my dad.

She is not much educated and had virtually no education at all, but she somehow got this idea very early in her life that, only education can bring better days in ones life. When I became big enough to go to a school, she wanted me to join a private school so that I could get a better education and thus she borrowed 200 rupees from a relative of ours. I always get emotional when I write about it. I still don’t know how she paid that back but i know she saves a lot. She was always eager to attend the Parent teacher meetings in school meetings, though she couldn't understand English but she always made a point to attend these meetings. 

My dad had no time for us, since he had to earn for the family to feed. There were times when we would not be able to see our father because by the time he reached home it was dark and he would leave early morning to deliver goods we manufactured (this was a side business, he started to support the family with help of my mother).

Speaking of me I was not very good at studies but I never knew that she borrowed the money to get me admitted to a private school till 7th standard. This she told me when I failed in a mid term exams and I remember the subject was social studies. I got 12 out of 80 marks.

This incident completely changed my focus and I started to devote more time to study. I passed out 10 and then 12 with flying colours.  I championed Social studies in school and later joined engineering. But my motto was to get a decent job first so that I could support my family. Meantime my mom  and father opened a school in North East Delhi for under privileged kids. I got a decent earning PSU job but I was not amazed, I wanted to give her something that made her proud, that tribute I thought could be: I getting into civil service.

I hope i have inherited the indomitable willpower from my mother.

Our family today have engineers, lawyers, businessmen and civil servants, all because of my mom’s focus on education, which she is still doing by teaching underprivileged kids. (she learned how to read and write later, when she saw us studying)

I just hope nothing but praying to the god “ भगवान, ऐसी माँ सबको दे!!”

[arcticdementor]

Doing illegal acts and getting away with it due to state power is a creeping coup. If one side in a struggle for state power can do illegal things, and the other side cannot, the illegal things eventually escalate till the political leadership of side that cannot commit crimes flees the country or goes into hiding. We are in hiding, and people in the military with dangerous ideas get prosecuted for war crimes. People associated with the Trump campaign get charged with obscure and incomprehensible crimes that everyone unknowingly commits, while Democrats stuff ballot boxes and collect bribes with complete immunity. Jon Corzine (Democratic party privilege, not Jewish privilege) got off for robbing investors, and the banks were forced to make the people he robbed whole.

…

The only real crime that anyone connected to the Trump campaign has been convicted of is stretching the truth on a mortgage application. But during the great minority mortgage meltdown, every white speculator, starting in 2005 November when every white speculator realized that the bubble was going to burst, unloaded overpriced housing onto blacks and Hispanics, usually Hispanics with no income, no job, and no assets, often a drunk cat eating wetback pulled out of the gutter from outside Home Depot with a bottle of whiskey, and the loan officer, usually a loan officer working directly or indirectly for Countrywide Bank, created a pile of lies that the drunk could not read and signed with his mark. None of the people who created these highly creative loan applications were prosecuted, because the banks, and especially Countrywide Bank, were doing the very holy work of moving minorities into green leafy overwhelmingly white suburbs.

The speculators unloaded overpriced houses onto people who could not pay, because people who could not pay were unworried about the price, even if they were sufficiently sober to know what the price was and what they were signing, but were nonetheless able to borrow, because if they were not able to borrow, it would constitute redlining. Beverly Hills Bank was destroyed by the regulators for its racist reluctance to make such loans, for its insistence that borrowers should be able to pay mortgages (redlining) but when the bad loans blew up, no one was punished, everyone was bailed out. Angelo Mozillo, the biggest villain in the Great Minority Mortgage Meltdown got a slap on the wrist for billions of dollars in losses on completely fraudulent mortgages and general failure to keep legally required records of who owned what, and who owed what, while Trump adviser Paul Manafort gets severely punished for a bit of creativity on one small mortgage application, which mortgage did not go bad.

Normally if a borrower is able and willing to pay on time, no one cares exactly what was written on the mortgage application, which tends to be filled out by the loan officer with whatever it is supposed to say pro forma, without too much consideration for the underlying reality for those details that are not all that relevant to the borrowers ability and willingness to pay. There are too many boxes, and they just routinely tick them all without examining them too carefully. But the details that are relevant to ability and willingness to pay, those they are supposed to be take seriously, and for white people, they do take them seriously.

…

The bank did not lose any money, or even suffer any late payments, on Paul Manafort’s loan, nor was it ever likely that they would. Every loan officer everywhere is apt to routinely tick all those boring overly numerous boxes. During the great minority mortgage meltdown, they massively falsified the ability and willingness to pay of borrowers who were usually obviously unable and unwilling to pay, and sometimes had no idea what they were signing, pissing away unimaginably huge amounts of money, yet no borrowers and no loan officers were ever prosecuted, while Paul Manafort gets the book thrown at him for one trivial detail on a loan application – which implies that Mueller’s lawyers went over every document of everyone connected to the Trump campaign with a fine tooth comb. If someone went over every document that you signed, often documents with far too many pages detailing lots of boring complicated routine requirements that no one actually cares about or pays much attention to, how would you fare? The stack of documents you signed in a mortgage application is several inches thick. Did you carefully read all of them? What did your loan officer write on those documents that you signed and never read?

…

After FDR the merely elected government lost power to the permanent government, the president lost power to the presidency and, starting around 2008, the permanent government lost power to the deep state. And the deep state is apt to send cops to the doors of its enemies, while the Democrats merely sends a mob of blacks, who are less dangerous.

…

In order to govern, it is necessary for the governing elite to act as one, which requires social cohesion and rules of good conduct, which come from ethnic and religious cohesion. Puritanism arose in a holiness spiral, which rapidly spiraled to post Christianity. A holiness spiral undermines cohesion, and post Christianity drops the the beliefs that made Christendom cohesive and effective. Thus the Puritans lost power in England in 1660, and England became sane, and remained sane for a century and a half. The holiness spiral of the Church of New England escalated more slowly, but is now reaching heights of madness comparable to those of the post Christian Puritans that Cromwell had to crush. The state religion of progressivism is succumbing to madness, rendering it incapable of functioning as the faith of an elite capable of ruling.

This manifests in the increasing use of violence and coercion, police power, and the criminalization of political differences in struggles within the elite. Convicting Sheriff Joe in 2017 crossed the Rubicon, and there are no more sharp lines between “ordinary” political conflict and civil war. If you arrest one political opponent over political differences, why not all of them?

If you arrest one political opponent who is a fellow member of the elite for his political position, eventually it will be all of them.

…

In 2012 Edward Snowden and Julian Assange revealed that the NSA was illegally spying on Americans. And everyone shrugged their shoulders and said to themselves “Hey, they are not going to care about me, they are going to looking at important people.” And, of course, we now know that they were looking at important people, both Hillary Clinton and Donald Trump, and everyone connected to them.

…

Sooner or later as the elite increasingly relies on coercive means and secret police to resolve policy conflicts, they are bound to start arresting, and shortly thereafter, killing, each other. Either Trump will jail them, or they will jail Trump, and shortly thereafter start jailing each other, then kill Trump and his family, and shortly thereafter, kill each other.

If, in the Durham report, the Trump administration comes to officially know what everyone has known since 2012, that the deep state has been acting illegally, then it is war between the deep state and the Trump administration.

What is holding up the Durham report? Everyone knows what will be in it if it is not yet another cover up. I hope that what is holding it up is the same thing as is holding up Pelosi sending the articles of impeachment to the Senate. Trump is likely sounding out the praetorians and getting them in place. Everyone is getting ready for what happens when arresting members of the elite over political differences escalates a lot further than it has already escalated.

If Trump imprisons them, the pretense that we are still a Republic will continue to have some plausibility, but Trump will be Caesar, for the arrest of the deep state for illegal acts that everyone knows about but no one admits will give him the power to arrest democrats for everything from notorious ballot box stuffing to equally notorious graft and corruption. If they arrest Trump, the pretense will get a bit thinner, though no doubt everyone will continue to piously believe.

[fluffy-marshmallow-heart]

Drake's Diary ch.25 -A Spot of Tea

The Royal Romance canon from Drake's POV

Words: 1619

I know you guys have been waiting, but it seems this is a filler chapter on PB's part. But it can still be fun. I believe things start coming to a head starting next chapter though! I hope you enjoy this in the meantime!

 Master List (Catch Up Here)

Drake was glowering at a table all by himself. Another tea party. I can’t believe I’m at another tea party. What is with nobles and tea parties? Why can’t they have a whiskey party or a hearty food party? It’s always gotta be tea…

His thoughts were interrupted as he saw Emma walking onto the grounds, and his breath hitched as he took in her slim figure in a scarlet red dress, with lots of little detailing. She looks gorgeous. Wow. Make way for the Lady in Red.

  He waved her down. “Rose! Over here. I thought I’d be stuck drinking tea alone.”

She grinned at him as she approached the table, and his heart fluttered at the way her eyes shined brightly directly at him.

“Sadly for all of us, that’s not the case.” Olivia sits down beside Drake as the tea house’s staff begins carrying trays of tea cups and pots to each table. As Emma joins them, he looks around for Hana, but sees her with Xinghai and her two noble suiters, Neville and Rashad, close to the royal party’s table.

Alrighty then.

He slid his eyes over to Olivia. “Hmph. Did Madeleine send you to sit with us exiles?”

“Not as such, but there was only one other available table.” She nods at said table, where Penelope is eagerly chatting with Kiara. Her voice carries over the word “poodle” and Olivia shuddered.

“Your company seemed…marginally preferable.”

“Olivia, It’s okay. You can admit that we’re friends.” Emma broke in.

Once again, speak for yourself, Rose. She is not my friend.

Olivia’s mouth fell open, and Drake thought he saw the hint of a smile. “I…I just find you less insufferable than Penelope.”

Ha. Yup, definitely was a smile in disguise. “Coming from you, that’s like a confession of love.

“We’re basically besties.” Emma laughed, as Olivia rolled her eyes.

A server approaches with a kettle and tray. She carefully adds tea leaves to the pot and fills it with water. The server drains the first infusion into a pitcher, and after filling the tea pot again, pours the pitcher’s contents over its closed lid.

“Nooooo! Not my tea!” Maxwell races over to the table, looking stricken.

Emma rose an eyebrow. “Relax, Maxwell. It’s part of the service.”

“Oh, good.  I thought my tea privileges were being revoked.”

“Not unless you’ve committed tea crimes you haven’t told us about.” She teased

“I wouldn’t hurt a leaf! Except by drinking it!” Maxwell chuckled at his own joke while everyone else just stared at him.

“Where on earth have you been?” Drake demanded. Leaving me here alone, leaving Emma to fend for herself, letting Olivia sit down, I could just go on. I deserve an explanation.

Maxwell looked at him like he had two heads. “Looking into Tariq’s whereabouts! We got a tip that he’s somewhere in Los Angeles. Hiding deep undercover.”

Drake scoffed. “That figures. He’s off living it up in Hollywood while you’re here cleaning up his mess.”

“I’ve started calling any menswear store whose price tags start at three figures, but since we’re on opposite sides of the Pacific…they’re all closed right now.”

“Oh. Thanks, time zones.” Emma frowned, and Drake took her hand under the table. She gives him a grateful smile.

“Don’t worry, I left them a bunch of voicemails. I told every store that if they don’t call me back as soon as they’re open, they’ll face the wrath of House Beaumont’s lawyers! I think Bertrand would be impressed.”

A look of surprised crossed Emma’s face. “We have lawyers now?”

“The stores that I called think we do!” Maxwell told her happily

Squeezing her hand lightly, Drake turned to face Emma. “How are you holding up, Rose? Now that we’re finally getting to the bottom of this whole mess?”

She scowled. “I am ready to throw a party when this is all over.”

“Just say the word and I’ll make it happen.” Maxwell jumped in excitedly

Oh boy, here we go. We definitely don’t need another Beaumont Bash…

“Whatever you’re picturing is probably too much party.” Drake informed.

Maxwell gasped. “There’s no such thing!”

The server finishes readying the second infusion of tea and pours each person a cup.

Maxwell takes a sip and his eyes widen. “Wow. I though top-shelf wine had layers, but this tea’s undertones have undertones.”

Drake sniffs his cup and takes a tentative sip. “Huh. Strong stuff.” This really isn’t so bad for tea. But still…coulda been a whiskey party…

“Is that a compliment?” Emma gasped.

He shrugged. “You’ve got to respect a drink that doesn’t pull its flavor punches.”

“I think it’s delightfully full-bodied.” Emma agreed.

“I’m surprised you like anything that didn’t come out of a little mesh bag.” Olivia smirked.

Emma chuckled. “Tea bags aren’t half bad. And they’re convenient.”

Olivia shook her head in disdain. “I’ll take a proper cup of tea like this any day.”

“Then it sounds like we’re going to need more.” Emma said, gesturing to the empty pitcher.

“Another!” Maxwell raises his tea cup over his head…

“If you break that, we’ll have to pay for it.” Emma acknowledged nervously.

Maxwell looks at her, then at his tea cup, and slowly sets it back on the table.

Holy shit. He actually listens to someone. I need to remember this for future reference. If anyone needs Maxwell to do something, just have Emma say it.

“Here. You can finish mine.” Drake handed him his cup.

“You’re a true friend, buddy.” Maxwell accepted.

Drake narrowed his eyes. “Don’t call me buddy.”

“You’re a true friend…friend?”

“My name is Drake.”

“Aww, look at you two. Getting along just like old times.” Emma teased them, obviously trying to get ahead of the situation and the dialogue Drake was sure he was about to start spewing.

Instead he sighed. “Yeah, yeah. No need to make a big thing out of it.”

“Are you sure? I’m feeling a group hug coming on…”

“There will be no hugging at this table.” Olivia’s voice cut through menacingly as she glared at the entire group.

“For once, I agree with Olivia.” I can’t believe I just said that. Can I take it back? No, damn, because then I would have to hug Maxwell…and Olivia…and Emma…okay, I’d love to hug Emma right now.

“…Maybe later.” Maxwell whispered loudly enough for all of them to hear.

Nope. I side with Olivia. 100% Team Olivia.

I’d better go check on Hana.” Emma announced abruptly, standing up and nodding towards where Hana is seated, as Neville and Rashad both stood and left their seats.

“I’ll keep them in line while you’re gone.” Olivia grinned.

Excuse me??  “Who died and left you in charge?”

Maxwell nodded in agreement frantically. “I didn’t vote for that!”

“I just expect everyone to be in one piece when I get back.” Emma makes her way between tables, not even glancing at them as she left.

I’m not even sure she heard us right now…

Olivia turns to Drake and Maxwell. “So, boys. Whatever should we do with ourselves? You can start by finding more tea. I do love more than one cup. Certainly one of you can handle this.”

“I uh…just remembered I have to go do that thing…” Maxwell started.

“Oh yeah, me too.” Drake chimed in.

“Oh, sorry, it’s really kind of private Drake. It’s the thing. In the place. That you…can’t go?” Maxwell darted away, and Drake’s jaw dropped as Olivia burst out laughing.

“I guess it’s you and me, commoner. And the tea. Go, shoo. Get the tea.”

“I’m not…getting…your tea.” Drake gritted out

Fucking Maxwell. I cannot believe he just did that!! Just leaving me here, again, alone, with fucking Olivia at my table. And he’s talking to Emma!! Damnit!!

Olivia begins speaking again, and Drake immediately tunes her out, watching Emma approach Hana and her father and wondering what they’re arguing about.

“I’m sure they’re not arguing about you, Drake. For some unknown reason, Emma has taken quite a liking to you. Hana’s got her own issues. She can’t handle them on her own, so she drags Emma along to help her speak.”

“Why would Rose be talking about me?” He questioned.

“I just she wasn’t. What, are you deaf too?”

Drake was about to return a snappy comeback when Emma plopped back down beside him.

“That could’ve gone better.”

He turned to her, full of worry. “What happened? We saw Hana leave.”

Emma sighed. “She and her dad got into a fight. She actually told him she wasn’t interested in Neville. I’m not sure if me being there made things better or worse...”

Drake’s eyebrows shot up. “Well, good for her. It’s about time she told her parents to lay off.”

Olivia tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Interesting. It seems she’s discovering a backbone.”

Maxwell sauntered back over as well, and guests start rising from their tables as the servers clear the tea trays away. They begin forming a line into the garden with King Liam waiting at the front.

Emma watched with curiosity. “Where’s everyone going? Are we line-dancing now?”

Olivia blinked. “This is a court, not a barn.”

Maxwell shook his head. “I think we’re just supposed to pay our respects to King Liam before we leave.”

Ugh, I just want to go.  “Leave it to the court to turn saying goodbye into a ceremony.” He grumbled, getting up and leaving the table. Everyone else can say their goodbyes. Drake is heading back to the hotel to find himself a nice hard drink.

We’re leaving for New York tomorrow. Back where everything began. Back where we met. Back where…Back where Maxwell chose her for Liam…Yup. I’m hitting the bottle tonight.

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