#it’s a pt cruiser and we have sunk enough fucking money into this thing to buy an actually halfway decent car

[yourheartinyourmouth]

a fucking MITZVAH out of nowhere!!!!!!!

a dear friend’s parents are offering to give us 3K to get the car repaired. fucking. a big pile of money fell into our laps. oh my gods. because they have more than they need and they are happy to share it, because to do is a mitzvah, a good deed, and they’re the kind of people who like to help.

i’m fucking crying i was telling husbeast earlier that unless a big pile of money fell into our laps we were SOL, and then….a big pile of money fell into our laps.

Khaire Hermes, Friend of Man!!!!!!

[rhysismydaddy]

Felons pt. 1 (Nessian)

Nessian multichapter. Next part out probably Monday. As always, this one just sets up some stuff so it’s kinda boring. This one’s probably going to be long. And an emotional roller coaster. Just letting you know :) 

Lightly based off the book The Witness. I say lightly because I’ve actually never even read this book, but my mom told me about it. ALSO no offense to anyone who’s from/lives in Nebraska lol.

Cassian swiveled around in his chair and looked at his partner with raised brows. “She’s in Nebraska?”

“That’s what I just said, isn’t it?”

Someone’s a little testy today. He ignores the tone and repeats, “But... Nebraska? What the hell is she doing there? And why did it take us so long to find her?”

Azriel gives him a tight look, and he realizes the reason for his pissy attitude. He’s annoyed it took him so long to track her down. 

Before he can tell his partner it isn’t his fault, he says, “She isn’t doing much. She’s completely off the grid. Which answers your second stupid question, too.”

“Okay... how off the grid are we talking?”

The woman had grown up in a penthouse, for fuck’s sake. He couldn’t imagine her living in the middle of nowhere without any of the comfort she’d lived with her entire life. 

“No cell phone or bank records for the last two years. The last time she was seen by any sort of traffic camera was before that, and it was in Atlanta.” He scrolls through something on his desktop with a frown. “From what I can tell, she took all her money out in cash and hoped on a bus.”

Nothing about that sounded like the woman he’d been reading about, but he wasn’t about to argue with Azriel in such a bad mood. “So she went straight to Nebraska?”

“I don’t know.”

His least favorite answer. “How’d you find her, anyway?”

“Well, I figured that unless she was sleeping under a bridge, she had to be paying rent somewhere. So I went state by state, looking at new property purchases under her known aliases.” Azriel sighs, running a hand through his dark hair. “But that didn’t pull up any results, so I looked at all the IDs on new renter’s insurance purchases until I matched one to her.”

His eyebrows rose. “That’s...”

“Tedious as shit.”

“Yeah.”

“That’s why it took so damn long,” he mutters. “She’s been careful, Cass. I mean really, really careful.”

A laugh bubbled out of him at that. “Well, she should be. She’s a felon.”

~Nesta~

Nesta’s breath clouded in front of her as she ran up the hill, panting like crazy. Even though she’d taken up running after the move, she still fucking hated it. Especially when it was cold. 

Which, in Nebraska, was somehow year round.  

Even the summers here were cold compared to back home-

No. Not home. 

This was home now. 

California was slowly, painfully becoming a distant memory, and she had to constantly force herself to remember that Mackenzie Brooks had never lived there. She was born in Michigan. She has no family or friends. Her hobbies include reading and running (the last of which was a definite mistake to include). 

And she was her. 

God, it honestly was a miracle she hadn’t slipped up yet. 

Maybe it was still the fear that drove her. Maybe it was just that she knew she could never go back to her old life. No matter that she wanted to.

No matter that she’d picked up and left without a word.  No matter that her sisters probably thought she was dead. 

Thankfully, she made it to the top of the hill before she passed out or died, and she bent over, sucking down the freezing air. It was only October, but it was already cold enough to force her to wear three layers and a beanie. 

Despite being miserable and cold, she forced herself to go through her training course. 

Because it couldn’t just be enough to be fit enough to run away anymore. If the person chasing her was faster... 

Nesta punched her hand through the target, satisfied when the wood cracked down the middle. Her knuckles luckily had gotten used to the abuse, so when she ducked under the branch and struck again, another target went flying. 

By the time she was done, her hands and arms were tired and her body was aching for a bath. 

Or two hours on a warm, sunny beach. 

Since only one of those things was bound to actually happen, she trudged back to her cabin, praying the hot water would hold out long enough for a full bath. 

One thing about Blair, Nebraska was that somehow, the less than ten thousand people who lived here were always experiencing a water shortage. 

It rivaled the cold ass weather for her least favorite thing about the place as a very close second. 

Noticing who was parked in front of her small little house, she grimaced and amended her statement. Lack of hot water was actually third, second only to the one and only Sheriff Marks. 

He spun around when he finally heard her steps, smiling a big, ugly, fake smile. “Miss Brooks.”

“Marks.”

According to small-town social guidelines, she was being beyond rude for not calling him Sheriff. But he was a short, ugly, annoying man, and she didn’t hold an ounce of respect for him. 

And because she wasn’t completely fake, she didn’t bother hiding it. 

“What are you doing on my property?”

His smile dimmed as his eyes beady eyes narrowed slightly. “I wanted to see how you’re doing. You never come into town. And here in Blair, we take care of each other.”

That right there was the reason for her dislike; Sheriff Marks was an insatiably curious man. 

And ever since she’d shown up a year ago, he’d been trying to put together the puzzle of why a moderately attractive young woman would move to the middle of butt-fucking nowhere. 

“I’m fine.”

She wanted to walk by him and go inside, where she could blissfully lock him out, but she had a list of rules now, and not putting her back to people she didn’t know or like was at the top of it. 

“Okay, sure, but-”

“Listen, Marks. I appreciate this... gesture, but I moved here to be left alone. I’d appreciate it if you would respect that.” It was the most she’d ever said to him, and he looked a little shocked. “I think I’ve made it more than clear.”

His face went somehow even ruddier, and for a split second, she regretted the harsh words. 

She couldn’t have people caring about her, though. When people cared, they stopped by more and felt entitled to know your business. Neither of which were things she wanted. 

So she just raised a brow and shot a meaningful glance to his cruiser. 

“Yes. It’s perfectly clear exactly who you are.” 

She almost rolled her eyes at the attempted insult, thankful when he finally turned to leave. As he was pulling away, she united her muddy shoes and got her house key from her sock, grimacing at how tight her back was when she stood up. 

Inside, she went through and made sure every door and window was locked, a habit she’d picked up two years ago and hadn’t been able to shake. 

God apparently was looking out for her today, because when she finally made it upstairs, there was enough hot water to fill the tub. 

When she sunk down to her shoulders and closed her eyes, enjoying the moment of peace. But then images of her sisters’ faces, the ocean, and her old home popped up uninvited in her head. 

It was always quiet moments like these when she found it the hardest to shake the memories of who she used to be. And since Nebraska was always fucking quiet... 

Nesta reminded herself of why she was here; why it had been necessary to leave. She reminded herself that her family was safer with her gone, that she was safer. 

But the hole in her chest refused to listen and close up. 

A tear slipped down her cheek, and she was too tired to even brush it away and chastise herself. Because for the first time in twenty-five years, she admitted she was lonely. 

She’d been alone for most of her life, but there was a difference between alone and lonely. Even when she’d isolated herself from her family and friends, they’d still been there for her. 

But now... she had no one here. And she’d never felt so alone in her life. 

It was horrible enough to make her consider going back, despite the risks. 

This is home now, she told herself, dunking under the water to wash away the thoughts hounding her. You didn’t work your ass off to get safe just to bitch out after a year. 

Coming up and gasping for air, she went through her cover, just like she did every night. 

“My name is Mackenzie Brooks, nickname Mackie. I’m from Michigan, but I moved to Nebraska last year to start over. I like to read and run. I’m twenty-five.” Taking a deep breathe, she finished, “I don’t have any family.” 

No amount of time under the water could ebb the sting of those words, though.

~Cassian~

Cassian was honestly a little surprised he hadn’t gotten fired. 

He absolutely hated his orders, and he’d made that more than clear. They’d come straight from Command and “weren’t negotiable,” but that didn’t mean he hadn’t tried. 

Calling his boss a two-faced asshole might’ve been a bit much, but it felt justified in the moment.

Because in all the time he’d spent searching for Nesta Archeron, he’d always pictured the day he’d finally track her down and slap some cuffs on her wrists, haul her away to jail.

He’d never imagined he’d be given orders to find out what she knew first. 

And he’d also never imagined having to do so in fucking Nebraska. 

An hour in the state, and he already hated it. He was from Boston, so he didn’t mind the cold weather, but the lack of buildings over thirty feet was a shock to the system. 

That, alongside the fact that everyone here was wearing some form of plaid, only worsened his mood. 

It wasn’t like he cared about her or anything, but he’d never really liked undercover work. Deceiving a woman--no matter that she was a criminal--never felt right to him. 

But orders were orders. 

He had to find out why she’d run, what she knew about what had happened, and if she had any proof. The goal was to get it all recorded, so he had to carry around a stupid little tap recorder in his jacket pocket. 

Maybe she’d meet him and just spill her guts immediately. That’d be ideal, but it seemed pretty fucking unlikely. At the very least, he’d have to get her to trust him enough to talk about the events of two years ago.

He drove the crappy old truck Azriel had gotten him through the small town, gaining the eyes of pretty much every person he passed. 

Not a lot of new people, apparently.

Ignoring them, he drove to the address of a small house on the outskirts of town. Or home for however long it took him to get close to her. 

Gods, I hope she’s talkative, he thought, walking up the creaky stairs and shouldering the door open. 

Quiet and small, but at least it was clean. 

Throwing his bag down, Cassian grabbed his laptop and started to get to work. 

~

Three hours and a trip to the grocery store later, he’d learned absolutely nothing Nesta--or Mackenzie Brooks, rather. 

There had been nothing online, and no one in the store had much to say besides, “She moved here a year ago. Keeps to herself.”

Great. 

Luckily, he had a reason to go see her. They were neighbors. Kind of. 

Her house was further out of town than his, and she owned the land around it, so she didn’t actually have neighbors. But he lived within a two mile radius, so he counted it. 

Which is why he found himself sitting in her gravel driveway, eyebrows high on his forehead, staring at the place.

And for the first time, he questioned if Azriel was right. 

Because the woman he’d read about... she definitely didn’t seem the type to live here. 

The porch was missing floor boards, the roof was caving in on one side, and the paint on the outside of the house was peeling off. The only thing that looked somewhat new was the front door. 

It had three locks and seemed to be a little heavy duty compared to the house, which made it stand out in a pretty obvious way.

Stepping out of the car, he walked up to get a better look, avoiding the holes in the floor. The house was quiet, and he knocked on the door, finding it to be solid and heavy. 

No answer. 

He knocked again, waiting a few minutes. Then he decided to be nosy and peek in the window. 

A couch and dining table were all that was visible, furthering his opinion that she couldn’t actually live here. 

She’d grown up in one of the nicest apartment buildings in California. Her father had been a wealthy real-estate tycoon. She’d gone to private school and sailing camp, for Christ’s sake. 

There was no way she lived here. 

That theory was proven very soundly incorrect a second later when he felt something tap the back of his head. Repressing the jump that rose from not hearing anyone sneak up on him, he straightened and turned around. 

And found himself looking down the barrel of a shotgun into the surprisingly beautiful, angry face of Nesta Archeron. 

“You have five seconds to get the hell off my porch.” 

Shock ran through his system like lightening. For a few reasons, the least of which was the gun. 

For starters, pictures didn’t at all do her justice, because she was probably the most attractive thing Cassian had ever laid eyes on. And that was with mud splattered on her face, hair in a ponytail, and athletic clothes covering her thin frame. 

Then there was the fact that Azriel had been completely correct. Nesta Archeron, pampered little trust fund princess, was living here. In Nebraska. Completely off the grid. By herself. 

The gun was also a surprise, but not as much as the way she was holding it. Her feet were squared, her shoulders lined up to absorb the kickback if she fired. She looked... she looked like she knew what she was doing. 

She raised a brow, reminding him of the fact that he still hadn’t spoken. 

And remembering who he was supposed to be, what he was supposed to do, he ignored the gun and smiled broadly. “Or what?”

“Or I will shoot you,” she responded calmly, hand pulling back the fore-end to load the gun with a snap. 

“You aren’t going to shoot me,” he assured her. “I brought you a pie.” He held up the baked good and grinned. It was from the grocery store, but it still counted, right? “It’s blueberry.”

“What? Who the fuck are you? And why are you here?”

Sticking out a hand that she ignored, he said, “Cassian. I’m here because I just moved in to the place about a mile from here, and I wanted to meet my neighbors. I gotta say, I’m loving the hospitality.”

Nesta ignored the joke and asked incredulously, “You moved here?”

He nodded. 

She just narrowed her eyes, not buying it apparently. 

Good God, “stand-off-ish” didn’t begin to cover it. 

He was having a difficult time wrapping his head around the fact that this was the same woman who’d gone to UC Santa Barbara, liked to surf, and had dated a movie star.

“But what about the-”

“I hate pie.”

He scoffed, leaning against the crumbling wall of her house like he was unbothered by the rejection in her voice. “No one hates pie.”

Nesta shrugged, jerking her chin towards his truck in a clear get the fuck out manner. 

“I’ll leave if you tell me your name,” he bargained, acting like he didn’t know who she was already.

There was a pause of silence, and a bit of sadness seeped into her bright blue eyes. “Mackenzie.”

Mackenzie Brooks, one of her aliases.  

“Pretty name.”

“Leave.”

“Sweetheart, I honestly can’t believe you’re trying so hard to get rid of me. I’m the best looking guy around here.”

That might very well be true, considering he hadn’t seen a single person under the age of fifty when he’d gone out earlier. 

“And what if I’m not looking for a man?”

“I have a female cousin you could date instead.”

Her lips twitched, and it made him a little too happy to see. “If I take the pie, will you leave?”

“Counteroffer. We split the pie, then I’ll leave.”

Her eyebrows go up. “Who the hell offers someone half a pie?”

“I was planning on giving you the whole pie, but I didn’t know you’d be so beautiful. And feisty.” He ran his eyes over her slowly. “A quality I never even knew I liked.”

“The urge to shoot you just increased.”

Cassian waggled his eyebrows. “So passionate.”

Nesta just sighed, finally lowering the gun. She engaged the safety and leaned it against the door, then snatched the pie from his hands and walked to the porch railing. 

He noticed she didn’t turn her back to him the entire time, and she she kept the gun in arm’s reach. 

What the hell had she been through?

His train of thought was cut off when he heard a splat. Nesta came back to him, one crumpled half of the pie lying upside down in the lid, the other in the original container. She shoved the crumpled half toward him. “Now leave.”

“How did you even cut it? Do you have a knife hidden between your breasts?”

It was a miracle she didn’t slap him for that one. She just narrowed her eyes again and said, “Yes.”

He honestly believed her. 

Cassian sighed, knowing he had to actually leave now. “Well, this wasn’t exactly what I had in mind, but it’ll do. It was lovely to meet you, Mackenzie.”

“Please just leave.”

Ouch.

He laughed and walked to his truck, calling out, “I’ll see you soon, neighbor!”

Nesta frowned at that, but he ignored it and grinned back. 

She stood on the porch watching him drive away until he was a certain distance, then picked up her stuff and unlocked the door. 

Well, Azriel had definitely been right: she was being very, very careful. 

But why? 

Cassian had no idea, but he was definitely going to find out. 

_____________________________________________________

Part 2

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