#need to go back to this route tomorrow and work on this heel hook

[treefcker]

I actually only got into climbing for the thirst traps I can post

[waywardbeanie]

A Man of Letters - Chapter Three

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female Reader Summary: It started as a simple hunt for Sam and Dean Winchester. Dean didn’t realize that this single case would change his life forever. Now they are on the biggest mission of their lives, and without the use of cellphones, the only way he can communicate with the love of his life is through old fashioned letter writing. He has done everything in his power to keep her safe, but will it be enough? Word Count: 3538

Series Warnings: Language, slow burn, angst, smut, alcohol consumption, fluff, SPN typical violence (individual chapters will contain relevant warnings) a little meta Chapter Warning: Violence, assault, humor (Is that really a warning?) and a little bit of sweet.

A/N: This series has been rattling around in my head for a while. It would never have made it to the light of day if it was not for my beautiful group of friends with whom none of this would be possible! You know who you are and I love you all!

Thank you to my beta @winchest09​​ without her none of this would be possible. If you’d like to be tagged, my list is open. Just send me an ask HERE: **Make sure you check out the playlist, it is updated every chapter and an essential part of the story**

Spotify Playlist : A Man of Letters

This series is ongoing!

No Gif’s are mine

“Weird,” Y/N huffed looking out the front window of her Main Street photography studio, “Photos That Rock”. That same black muscle car has passed by her shop window at least five times today. She feels like she should recognize it, but it is just out of reach. Pulling her hair back into a ponytail she began to straighten up around the studio. Last night was a late night, then tossing and turning all night thinking about Mr. Tall, Dark and Plaid. It was an early morning today with a full schedule of studio time and then she was set to go back to The Zoo for Blues night. “Thank God it’s Friday!” she thought.

Tomorrow she opens at 11:00 and only for a few hours. During the summer, the hours are reduced with people being on vacation or just busy. The last thing they want to do on a Saturday is to come in and have their picture taken. She had editing to do, but she could do that on her laptop at home barefooted, wearing shorts and a T shirt.

Y/N locked the door as she flipped the closed sign around. Walking to the back of the studio she grabbed her garment bag off the hook and proceeded to change clothes. She didn’t have time to go back to her house. Besides, once she went home, she wasn’t leaving.  Finding that charming little 2-bedroom bungalow was a blessing. 

Thinking back, she remembered driving around quaint little neighborhoods when Y/N saw the “For Sale” sign being put out. She pulled her black Jeep over to the side of the road and jumped out, clad in jean capris, her favorite white sneakers with a black  ZZ Top “Tres Hombres” mugshot picture on the front, hair in a ponytail and large sunglasses adorning her face.

 “Excuse me,” she said politely, as she approached the elderly woman trying to pound a sign into the hard dirt of the front yard. “May I ask you about the house?”

The old woman peered at her over her glasses. “Ya by yourself?” she almost shouted.

 “Yes ma’am.” Y/N smiled.

“Ya like strong coffee?” she questioned again, “it’s the only kind of coffee I make,” she mumbled. Y/N nodded her head agreeably.

“Well, come on then, come in and look at the house. You can have a cup of coffee with me and I’ll tell ya about it.” Y/N followed behind the slowly shuffling woman with slide slippers and a faded blue house dress.

Within 2 hours, Y/N learned that Hazel had lived in this house her entire married life. Her husband Everett built it when he returned from the Pacific after WWII. The house was a little run down she explained because she had a hard time taking care of things after Everett died 18 months ago. Hazel was ready to move into the senior apartments where all her “widow friends” live. By Y/N's second cup of coffee, she and Hazel agreed on a price and that Y/N could have the house in a month. They agreed to meet at the lawyers in town the following Monday. She had a bounce in her step as she returned to her Jeep after hugging Hazel goodbye. Her step stuttered as a somber smile pulled at her mouth. “This was the first good thing she could use her parent’s life insurance for.”  

Y/N shook her head to clear her mind of the past. Glancing at the clock she noticed that she needed to be at the bar in 30 minutes and it was 15 minutes away. She quickly stripped off her T-shirt and jeans and shimmied into her black leggings and pulled on her knee high, 5-inch heeled boots. Pulling her grey sleeveless flowing top over her head, tugging it down, it skimmed right at her mid-thigh. Focusing on her reflection, she quickly touched up her makeup and added lipstick. Yanking out the hairband, she returned it to her wrist, finger combing her hair.

“Well, that’s as good as it’s going to get today,” she said to herself. Turning around, she grabbed her backpack and keys and ran out the back door to her Jeep, praying she didn’t hit traffic.

The Jeep careened into the parking lot of The Zoo, throwing gravel as “My Kinda Party” by Jason Aldean blaring from the speakers. She made it with 5 minutes to spare. The bar was busy already, so she had to park on the far end of the lot. She grabbed her backpack off the seat and sprinted to the front door just as it swung open.

Stepping inside it was apparent it was going to be a different kind of night. The place was packed just about shoulder to shoulder. People weren’t here to dance, they were here to have a few beers and listen to great Blues music. Y/N snaked along the edge of the crowd to the bar, carefully removed her camera from the bag and handed the backpack to Travis. Surveying the crowd she knew she would get the best pictures by positioning herself on the edge of the stage.

Painstakingly she made her way to the front as the band rambled out. . She motioned to one of the members to confirm she would not be a distraction and he gestured for her to join them while grinning at her. “Make sure you get my good side.”

As they began to jam, the crowd surged forward and Y/N was glad she wasn’t on the floor tonight. She focused on the band and the front of the crowd for their first set, capturing ecstatic faces as the music rose and fell. After a hasty break the band began their second set with “Got My Mojo Working” by Muddy Waters. Y/N steadied herself on the side of the stage and began to scan the bar through her lens, capturing bits and pieces of the enthusiastic and eclectic crowd. The camera halted at 2 men that didn’t belong. They were leaning against the back wall with their arms crossed in front of their chest. They were tall and seem to tower above the crowd. Even this far away they seem pasty and unkempt.  Y/N chucked to herself because one has a John Deere hat on and the other a Caterpillar hat, direct competitors. As she studied them, both snapped their heads up simultaneously. The look on their faces was so murderous that her stomach tightened, and she began to quake. Trying to settle herself her camera moved on instantly. As she wrapped up her shoot at the end of the night, she could still not shake the pit in her stomach.

She talked to the band for a few minutes as they were packing up their instruments and the crowd began to clear out. Jumping down off the stage, she went to the bar to gather her things.

“Thanks so much for tonight Y/N,” Travis pronounced handing her the backpack. “Do you need me to walk you out?”

“No, I’m good.” Y/N shook her head. “I’ll see you tomorrow night for the second blues show.”

Smiling, Travis toasted her with the glass he was polishing.

She hefted her backpack over her shoulder and with her head down, she headed outside.  En route to her parking spot, she observed a group of men congregating close to her Jeep. Slowing her pace she began eyeing them closely, spotting immediately the 2 men in ball caps that creeped her out earlier.  Giving them a wide berth she dug her keys out of her bag, kicking herself the whole time that she didn’t already have them in hand.

As she drew closer, the group began to watch her, making lewd remarks and vulgar gestures. She ran the rest of the way to her Jeep, jumped in, cranking the engine almost simultaneously. Y/N jammed it into reverse, throwing gravel, then ramming it into drive in one fluid motion, putting as much space between her and the group as possible. Her heart was thundering in her chest while her entire body began to quake. Her breaths came in short bursts as she propelled down the road, putting a few miles between her and the bar.  Y/N began to talk herself down, trying to remember her yoga breathing as she berated herself for thinking of yoga at a time like this.

Steering closer to her house she began to compose herself. As she pulled into her driveway, she put her Jeep in park resting her head on the steering wheel, breathing slowly, in and out. Yanking her keys out the ignition she threw them into her bag. Taking one last calming breath she hoisted her bag on her shoulder and got out, slamming the door behind her.

She had taken three steps when a vice like grip wrapped around her bicep swinging her around and slamming her against the side of the Jeep, hurling the bag out of her reach and knocking the wind out of her. Y/N was momentarily paralyzed, the disbelief so profound. A large hand gripped the back of her neck, pulled her away from the Jeep and crushed the side of her face into the driver’s side window.  He clenched her neck tighter as he pushed her face into the window. Tears are running down her face and she strains to hold in cries of pain and fear. She feels the weight of his chest press into her back, feeling his sticky hot breath on the side of her face.

“Did you think you could run?” he seethed. “Did you think we would not fucking find you?”

“W-W-What are you talking about?” Y/N choked out.

Spinning her around by her arm and tossing her back against the door, Y/N hit it like a ragdoll, sliding down the side of the vehicle as her fear incapacitated her mind and body. Looking up, she recognized her assailant from the bar with the John Deere hat. He gripped her by the throat, dragging her back up the Jeep. Y/N feet dangled off the ground, her right eye already swollen shut blood dripping from the side of her head and lip.

“Bitch, we’ve been looking for you for a long time,” he sneered. Y/N tried to shake her head back and forth.

“NO!” she struggled, “I don’t know you!”

He laughed as she tried to focus her one good eye. An index of faces flipping through her mind like a rolodex. He bent down, his fingers digging into her throat, leveling eye to eye with her.

“Oh, but we know you. You were supposed to be in the cabin with James and Diane. We should have been able to take care of all of you at once.” His mouth twisted, “Instead, we had to chase you ass across half the damn country.”

Uncontrollable tears were rolling down her face, blood pounding in her ears. The stranger straightened, his hand slightly loosening around her neck, feet still inches off the ground. “We usually like to play with our food,  but those fuckin’ Winchesters are in town. I’ve messed around enough.”

Y/N could not make sense of anything this lunatic was saying. He knew about her parents’ cabin?  He knew she was supposed to be there? Play with their food? Maybe she was blacking out from lack of oxygen. Winchesters?

She could feel herself weakening. She could hear screeching tires and yelling but it was so far away. She was opening her mouth to scream but only a raspy moan escaped. A look of panic crossed the strangers face. He looked at her, his features began to change. Sharp pointed teeth emerging from his gums. Y/N began to blink rapidly, attempting to process what she was seeing. She began to kick her legs in terror. Her brain was telling her what she was seeing was a hallucination, but her body was peaking at the fight or flight mode. The stranger's mouth was agape as a hiss left his throat. She stared at his mouth with what looked like hundreds of teeth made of needles

She opened her bloody lips to attempt to scream for the last time while looking into his eyes. His head completely disappeared, releasing his hold on her neck in which she crumpled into a heap on her driveway, gulping for air. She heard metal clattering on the cement and from her one working eye, saw a large hand grab the stranger’s body and toss it into the grass. In a flash, two strong hands grasped her shoulders and her flight kicked in. Thrashing around and trying to get away but he was holding on tight saying her name over and over, attempting to get through to her oxygen deprived brain. Shaking her shoulders as gently as he could, drawing his face closer to hers

“Y/N, Y/N look at me, just listen to my voice and look at me, look at my face.”

She peered up at him, the adrenalin beginning to dissipate as the tremors convulsed her body . She was trying to focus on what she saw but it was irrational. She felt like she was trying to put a puzzle together but none of the pieces fit. She squinted at his face and moved her lips to speak but nothing came out.  She stuck her tongue out trying to moisten her lips wincing as she swallowed. Trying again she croaked, “Hot Flannel Guy?”

Chuckling Dean gathered her to his chest, “That’s right, sweetheart, it’s me, Hot Flannel Guy.” He picked her up, as if she weighed nothing the uninjured side of her face rested against his chest and she could feel the rumble of laughter against her cheek. She closed her uninjured eye and tried to breathe deep. He smelled clean and woodsy with a hint of sweat. “A sexy smell for a hot man,” she thought. She remembered she had caught a hint of that same smell yesterday when they danced.

“Where are we going?” she whispered her head foggy, feeling so tired.  Dean started for her front door, Sammy not far behind. “We just need to get you in the house sweetheart”

“We only got three of them, the other two made it to the pickup and took off,” Sammy informed his brother, looking over his shoulder. 

“Damn it!” snapped Dean “We can’t fucking leave her here now.” 

Sam was juggling the machete, a bag and a first aid kit. “Let’s just get her in the house and then we can make a plan. It’s not like they are coming back tonight.”

Dean looked at Sam then at the front door. “Not to be a dick Sammy, but that door isn’t going to open itself.” 

Sam rolled his eyes. He looked at Y/N in Dean’s arms and immediately felt bad. “Right.” He dropped the armload of stuff behind him on the large front porch and opened the screen door. There was a keypad and a doorknob and sighed. “What’s the code?”

Dean carefully jostled Y/N in his arms. “Hey, Y/N?” he asked her softly, “we need to get in the house, what’s the code?” 

She had almost forgotten where she was, she hurt all over and could not stop trembling, but she was taking a small comfort in the feel of Dean’s arms around her. 

“Let me down,” she croaked, starting to struggle, “I’m fine, I’m fine. Just let me down.”

Dean’s arms tightened around her. “Sweetheart, just tell Sam the code, we’ll get you in the house, THEN, I‘ll put you down.” She slumped back against him huffing 

“8675309,” she rasped in the best sing song voice she could. Dean threw his head back and laughed as Sam smirked. “Jenny’s number? Your code is Jenny’s number?”

“I couldn’t help it, it’s the only number I could always remember.”

Still chuckling Dean leaned against the house as Sam entered the code. He pushed off, his elbow hitting the doorbell just as the door swung open. Robert Plant’s voice wailed from inside the house.

“Hey, Hey Mama said the way you move, gonna make you sweat, gonna make you groove”

Dean’s eyes snapped to Y/N’s face. “Woah, Zeppelin? Seriously?”

One side of her mouth tilted up. “Nobody wants a boring doorbell.”

Sam shook his head as he gathered the things off the porch, holding the screen door with his foot so Dean could carry Y/N in the house. He was beginning to feel like he was stuck in some kind of kismet thing between those two.

As Dean entered her home, he looked around trying to figure out where to lay Y/N down.

“No way does a Dude live here.”

All the walls were white with dark grey trim. The furniture was white in the living room with grey throw pillows and a turquoise throw on the side of the couch. The floors looked like they were finished in a weathered grey tone and it opened up into the airy white and grey kitchen. Different sized vases filled with fresh daisies and framed black and white photographs were placed throughout the area. With all the white, one would think that it would feel sterile but something about it gave off a cozy, comfortable feeling, like a breath of fresh air.

Sam strode into the kitchen and placed his armful of gear on the kitchen Island. He turned to Dean pointing to the couch.

“Nope.” Dean shook his head and looked at Y/N, “no way Sammy, it’s too clean in here.”

Y/N began to wriggle in his arms. “Lemme down,” she whispered. He had held her in his arms for so long she began to feel embarrassed but Dean tightened his hold around her. “Shhhh,” he said looking around again.

“Dude!” she yelled, shocking all three of them. “PUT. ME. DOWN.”  Dean set her on her feet and her legs started to crumple from underneath her. He caught her again and hoisted her back up in his arms.

“Now what?” he ground out.

Sam pulled out one of the grey upholstered bar chairs from the kitchen island, “Put her here.”

 He opened the freezer and grabbed a bag of peas and pulled a bottle of water from the refrigerator. Setting them on the island he walked over to the sink, tore some paper towels from the roll and saturated them with water.

Dean deposited her, none too delicately in the chair. Sam made his way back to her, walking around the island to stand next to Dean to face her. Her right eye was swollen shut and the right side of her top and bottom lip were busted covered in drying blood. As she looked up at her savior, they could see the purple handprint developing around her neck.  Looking directly into Dean’s steely green eyes, she visibly flinched at the barely contained anger. Inhaling a shuddering breath, she spoke quietly.

“Who are you?”

“Oh yeah, that,” Dean smiled. “I’m Dean and this,” he motioned towards the other man, “is my brother Sam.”

He raised his hand, “Hi.”

Y/N studied both of them. Her good eye ping ponging between them until she finally landed back on Dean expectantly raising her eyebrow with a grimace of pain.

“Winchester.” Both spoke at the same time.

She huffed out a breath. “Of course it is, that creepy dude said he couldn’t play with his food because of the fuckin’ Winchesters. But I think I must have imagined stuff from lack of oxygen or something because after that, it’s all a blur and isn’t rational.”

“Well,” Sam hedged, reaching for the wet paper towels, “why don’t we try to get your face cleaned up and you can maybe take a shower. After that we can explain it all to you.” He reached up to start to blot her battered face.

“Dude, I got this!” Dean hip checked him, knocking him off balance. Sam scowled at him. “Sammy, why don’t...you know…” he motioned with his head toward the front of the house, “handle that other thing we need to do.” Sam looked at him incredulously, sarcasm flowing. “Great, yeah I’ll take care of that right now.” Spinning around he headed out the door.  Dean knew he was going to hear about that later but he really didn’t give a damn. 

Turning his attention back to Y/N he grabbed the damp paper towels off the island counter and started to dab her face. Wincing she pulled back. “Dean,” she murmured 

“Yeah, sweetheart?” he began reaching around lightly, holding the back of her head so she would stop drawing back. “I need you to hold still for me for just a few minutes so I can get you cleaned up.”

She reached up, grasping his hand, meeting his eyes. Her bottom lip began to tremble, tears shimmering. “Thank you,” she breathed, “thank you for saving my life.” 

He tenderly touched his forehead to hers. “I’m just glad we made it here on time.”

“Me too,” she choked out.

Chapter 4

Tags: @winchest09 @katehuntington @whatareyousearchingfordean @emoryhemsworth @flamencodiva @superfanficnatural @deanwanddamons @janicho88 @talesmaniac89 @anathewierdo @compresshischest09 @supernatural-bellawinchester @jensengirl83 @this-is-what-im-reduced-to @ellewritesfix05 @moron225 @foxyjwls007 @hobby27 @unicornqu33n17​ @swinchester27​@4fareader @deans-baby-momma​ @squirrelnotsam​ @clumsy-nerd104​ @sarahbaker2010​ @supernatural-love14​ @akshi8278​ @lyarr24​ 

[bitchesofostwick]

boba kisses

i wrote something short and sweet for OC kiss week! this is featuring ellinor and @cullenvhenan​‘s OC caridad <3 ily ellie and happy valentine’s day!

***

“We need to talk,” Ellinor huffs as soon as Avery opens the door to their shared apartment. She crosses her arms—not that she needs to; the tone in her voice alone has him raising his eyebrows and throwing his hands up in feigned defense.

He kicks the door closed behind him and tosses his keys into the dish on the counter. “What did I do this time?”

She narrows her eyes at him, crossing her arms. “Pastry delivery this morning.”

He knows what she means. She can tell. Because he goes from being defensive to being completely and utterly pleased with himself, a shit-eating grin spreading over his face before he even answers.

This was all his fucking plan, she thinks.

Earlier that day, she’d gone in for her shift at the cafe—her one opening shift of the week, because she’d probably die if she did more than that. Clocked in. Started brewing the coffees, grinding the espresso. At 6 a.m. sharp, the back door buzzer sounded—Avery, she’d figured, here to deliver the daily pastry and bagel order from the bakery across the street. The bakery Caridad Lacanilao owned. Caridad’s bakery. The bakery owned by Caridad, who Avery worked for. Caridad, she thought wistfully before shaking her head abruptly. Avery always delivered the pastries in the morning, and he always gave her shit if she didn’t let him in quickly. So she wiped her hands off on the apron loosely tied over her flannel top, flipped off the coffee grinder, and headed out for the back door.

And when she’d opened it, it was not Avery, but Caridad Lacanilao standing there.

“That was not cool!” she huffs to Avery, still crossing her arms. “You were supposed to—I didn’t know—I wasn’t expecting—”

“Calm down!” He smirks at her. It’s infuriating. “I thought you’d be glad to know that it was her idea.”

She sputters. “Her—what?”

“Yeah. I’d already boxed up the pastries and stuff, and I was about to head out when she told me to start getting the baguettes in the oven. Which she usually does herself. So she definitely just wanted to go flirt with you.” He wiggles his eyebrows playfully.

Of course he does. This is all just hilarious to him.

“Well she didn’t,” Ellinor grumbles. “Flirt with me, I mean.”

“Come on, Ell—”

“I’m serious! There was no flirting! I opened the fucking door and she was like ‘hi,’ and I said ‘oh.’” She throws her hands up in the air. “Literally just ‘oh.’ Like an idiot. I couldn’t make this up.”

“It’s not like you guys haven’t had normal conversations before.” Sensing that she’s no longer...hostile...he kicks his shoes off and hangs his jacket on the hook by the door.

Shr shrugs. “I know. But it takes...so long to get to that point. I always say something dumb or awkward. Like ‘oh.’ And she’s probably like, ‘I have so many better things I could be doing than talking to this loser’—”

“She would never think that.”

“How would you know?”

“Because I work with her?” he says. “And she’s always asking how you’re doing or talking about how she might go across the street for a latte if the shop gets slow.”

Ellinor perks up. “Really?”

“Yes!” Avery says, rolling his eyes. “Seriously. You guys are so weird about this whole thing, I don’t know why you can’t just see that the other is interested—”

“She’s not interested!” she insists. “I mean, not like...not like that. I’m sure she’s just like, ‘oh, that’s Ellinor, my employees sister, who I could definitely see as a friend but nothing more than’—”

“Stop putting words in her mouth, Ell.” He sighs, flopping down on the couch. “You’re just speculating because you’re afraid.”

“I’m not afraid. I saw her this morning.”

“Yeah, and from the little bit that you told me, it seems like that went just great.”

She doesn’t even bother telling him about how she could barely get her words straight when she offered Caridad a coffee, or about how she literally dropped two bagels on the floor by accident stocking the pastry case while said coffee was brewing and Caridad was standing idly waiting for it.

“It was. Fine.”

“Look at me.”

“No,” she mumbles, but he won’t relent.

“Ell. Look me in the eye and tell me you’re really okay with just seeing Caridad a couple times a week at the cafe or bakery or maybe when all three of us hang out.”

She tilts her head back and forth indecisively, and Avery sighs.

“One of you has to make a move eventually.”

“Well it’s not going to be me,” she says decisively, tossing her phone onto the coffee table before heading into the bathroom.

Deep breaths, Ellinor, she thinks, closing the door behind her. It’s not like her to get so flustered about anything, really, but Caridad was another story. She splashes some water on her face and pats a towel over her cheeks, taking one final deep breath before emerging.

“You good?” Avery snorts, and she rolls her eyes at him.

“I’m fine.” She sits down next to him on the sofa, picking up her phone from where she’d left it only to find a text waiting for her on her lock screen.

Caridad

Yeah, that would be cool

She almost drops her phone from how quickly she tries to swipe it open. “What the…” Inside is a text from her that was very obviously not written by her.

Hi Caridad! Avery told me you’re taking the day off tomorrow. I’m off too! Would you want to get boba together?

“Avery,” she breathes.

“Mmhmmmm?”

“What have you done?”

“You said you weren’t going to make a move. So I made a move for you.”

“Avery—”

“I know you’re off tomorrow. And I know you didn’t have any plans. But now you do!”

“I’m going to kill you,” she says, her heart racing. “I’m going to—oh my god, I have to tell her I can’t. This was a mistake.”

“But she already said yes!”

Oh my god. She said yes.

She groans and falls back into the couch cushions. “Fuck. You’re right.”

***

She stands outside the boba shop, shifting her weight from foot to foot. This was a bad idea. Caridad isn’t even here yet. Granted, she made sure to get to the boba shop exactly 15 minutes early. She even woke up early for this. She’d agreed to meet with Caridad at 1, but she woke up at 10, showered, changed into ripped denim shorts with tights and about eight different flannel shirts before deciding on a red one. And she put on makeup for this. And a matching red knit beanie. And all of that only took until 11. Which means she had two extra hours to pace around her apartment anxiously before heading out.

She’d hung out with Caridad alone only two times before this, and both were months ago. The first time was one night when they’d happened to close the cafe and bakery at the same time and ran into each other in the street, and Caridad mentioned that she was going to go get ramen, and Ellinor had stupidly said oh, me too! She was not, in fact, going to go get ramen after work. Or at least, she wasn’t until her brain decided to make up something stupid just to be able to hang out with Caridad. But Caridad had said oh, we could um. Go together. So it worked. In a way. And they got ramen. And it was awkward at first, but after a few glasses of sake it was decidedly less awkward, and they ended up staying and chatting until the restaurant was closing. The other time, they’d planned to go see a movie with Avery only for Avery to bail at the last minute. Ellinor hadn’t thought much of it then (she sure does now), but she and Caridad had gone together anyway. And it was nice. And their fingers had brushed together every time they’d reached for popcorn at the same time, which was...several times. And after the movie, they’d walked the long way home. Neither of them suggested it. But their feet seemed to carry them blocks away from the more direct route to their neighborhood, and they’d chatted together in the quiet street-lit sidewalks until finally it seemed like the only place left to go was home.

But anyway. Both of those times were months ago, and even though Ellinor had been convinced that they could’ve had something then, she’s all but lost hope by now. And yet thanks to Avery, here she was, standing outside the boba shop looking like an idiot waiting for Caridad.

That’s if she doesn’t end up deciding this is a bad idea.

“Ellinor?”

She turns sharply only to find her standing there, and for a second, she doesn’t even know what to say.

These days, if she sees her at all, it’s usually in her standard baker’s jacket and black pants, black hair tied back into a bun or ponytail. Not this time. Today, Caridad is dressed in ripped gray skinny jeans and an off-the-shoulder red top, her hair loose and long and flowing past her bare shoulders. Oh good, she wore makeup too, Ellinor thinks, noting Caridad’s cherry red lipstick and smokey eye combination. It would’ve been weird if only I wore… She shakes her head. Stop being stupid. Say something.

“Hey,” she says nervously. “Uh. Our red shirts match.”

Caridad flashes an awkward smile. “Ha. Yeah. They do.”

You fucking idiot, Ellinor, she thinks.

They stare at each other until another customer steps out of the boba shop and walks right between them out onto the sidewalk.

“Oh. Right.” Ellinor opens the door for them. “Uh. After you.”

Caridad steps inside, her heeled boots clicking gently on the floor. “What are you going to get?” she asks her, and Ellinor blushes.

“Oolong.”

“Oh! Yeah. Me too.”

Ellinor’s eyes widen.

“It’s my favorite,” Caridad clarifies.

“Yeah, me too.”

She manages to order her tea without making too much of an embarrassment of herself, and they make their way out of the shop.

“Do you want to go to the park?” Caridad asks quickly. “I mean, unless you wanted to go somewhere else. I don’t care.”

“No! The park is—the park would be nice.”

With her heels on, Caridad is only just taller than Ellinor. She glances at her shyly as they walk together. We’re probably the same height, she figures, because from where she stands, she can see the way her cheeks redden in the early spring cold, and the way her eyelashes flutter when she catches Ellinor looking at her.

Oops.

The park is surprisingly quiet when they arrive. They sip their boba in silence, walking around the gardens and the fountains that had only just thawed from the winter weather.

“Wait…” Ellinor says suddenly, looking around.

Caridad stops. “What is it?”

“Nothing. I mean. This is where...isn’t this where we walked around after the movies, that one time?”

If Caridad’s face was flushed before, it’s really red now. “Oh,” she says hurriedly. “Yeah. I guess so.”

I guess so.

Ellinor’s heart sinks. It probably doesn’t matter as much to her. “Yeah, I only just remembered. That was. Uh. Fun.”

“Yeah,” Caridad mumbles. “It was.”

Despite her discouragement, Avery’s voice rings in her ears. One of you has to make a move eventually.

Ugh. He’s right, even if she wouldn’t admit it to his face. And if she doesn’t say something now, she’ll probably regret it.

Definitely regret it.

“Hey, Caridad.”

Her eyes snap up from where she’d been looking at her boots, meeting Ellinor’s gaze. “Yeah?”

“What...um. What happened, after that night?” She swallows. “I mean, I thought we’d had a really nice time. I’d hoped that maybe we could’ve hung out again sometime, but I—well, maybe it’s me, I was too scared to ask you, but I did think it was fun and I sort of wished we’d hung out again but you never said anything so I sort of assumed you probably did want to but I did want to and...oh fuck, now I’m babbling, and—”

“You did?” Caridad asks in a small voice.

“Did what?” Ellinor squeaks.

“You—you did want to hang out with me again?”

“W-well—yeah! I mean. Yeah, I did. I just didn’t think you were interested because you’re so. Cool. And stuff. But I thought...that we’d really had fun that night. And—”

“So did I.”

“You...oh.” Ellinor says nervously. “You did.”

“Yeah. It was really nice.”

Ellinor takes a deep breath, considering this. “So, did you...suggest coming to the park on purpose?”

Caridad looks back downward. “Yeah.”

Oh.

She looks up. “Caridad.”

“Yes?”

Clutching her boba in her hands, she takes a single step closer to her, tilts her head up, and kisses her cheek.

“Oh,” Caridad whispers, and she looks into Ellinor’s eyes, blushing, surprised, but smiling. Just a little.

But a little is enough.

The next time Ellinor leans in, she meets her lips in a full kiss, soft and careful and tasting like sweetened oolong tea. Ellinor wonders if her red lipstick will rub off on her. She hopes it does.

“That was…” she breathes when Caridad pulls away. “Nice.”

Caridad smiles, bringing the straw from her boba to her mouth. “It was nice.”

[thegizka]

Swift as Wind, Soft as Shadow

Chapter 7:  Future

Three days after the end of the war, Temari is preparing to return to Suna, but there's one task to complete in Allied Shinobi camp before she can return home with a clear conscience.

Inspired by ShikaTema Week 2019 Day 5: Surprise Gifts.

Note:   Sorry it took over a year to get an update, but for some reason, this chapter felt like pulling teeth. I restarted it several times until I found something satisfying enough to continue the story. Thank you for your patience! I'll do my best not to take so long with the next update.

Read it on Ao3.

Temari wandered through the Allied Shinobi Camp.  It was much smaller than it had been before the war.  The Iwagakure and Kirigakure forces had already returned home, and the bulk of the shinobi from the other countries were rebuilding their villages.  Gaara and Kankuro had left her to take care of Suna’s remaining matters in the camp.

Three days of collecting the final effects of the deceased and packaging them for delivery to their next of kin.  Three days of gathering all Suna documents and securing them to return to the village.  It was meticulous, emotionally draining work, but someone had to do it.

Right now, though, she had given herself a different assignment.  As the camp settled down for the evening, Temari wove through the tents looking for someone.  She hadn’t expected to see him here, but mentions of him and glimpses in passing were hard to deny.  She had a few things to say to him before she returned to Suna tomorrow.

She pinpointed his spiritual pressure as the last streaks of golden sunset faded into lavender and blue.  Shikamaru was sitting on a stack of crates at the edge of the camp, his head tilted back to look at the emerging stars.  She watched him take a drag from a cigarette.  Since when had he started smoking?  That made her hesitate for a moment.  She hadn’t been able to speak to him since the end of the war so she wasn’t sure what his mental state was like.  She could only surmise based on glimpses and whispers, and the fact that he was here and not home.  She shook off her hesitation and strode forward.

“Come with me,” she said in a low voice, hooking her arm around his and not breaking momentum.

“What the hell?” Shikamaru sputtered, resisting her pull.  “Temari?”

“Obviously,” she grumbled.  “Come on.”

“What are you doing?” he sighed, though he reluctantly plodded after her.  She dropped his arm when she felt he wasn’t going to run away.

“Just come on.”

She could feel his eyes studying her with a mix of amusement and exasperation.  She was thankful for the rapport they’d built over the years.  A normal shinobi would never follow someone from another nation to an unknown location in the middle of the night.  At least, normally they wouldn’t.  Things were different now that they’d united to fight a war.  Something had shifted in shinobi society, and it was both thrilling and frightening.

“How far are we going?” Shikamaru asked with a heavy exhale.  The smell of tobacco smoke drifted around her, making her nose wrinkle involuntarily.

“When did you start smoking?”

He didn’t answer, so she glanced over her shoulder at him.

“Does it matter?” he sighed.

“I’m not judging you,” she said, which was mostly true.  He’d been through a lot.  She couldn’t judge if he had found his own coping mechanism.

“Then why did you ask?”

She didn’t answer.  She wasn’t ready to admit that she was a little upset that she hadn’t known.  Or that she thought there were better ways to deal with trauma.  There were other things she wanted to say first.

“Okay,” she said instead, climbing over a mound of churned earth into a large crater littered with downed trees.  “This should be good.”  The war had altered the landscape, which was to be expected when literal gods took to the battlefield.  Those proficient in earth-style jutsus had helped to clear the main travel paths and nearby settlements, but the world would carry the scars of this war forever.

“Now what?” Shikamaru asked, grinding what was left of his cigarette under his heel.  Temari turned to face him.

“Fight me.”

“What?” he scoffed.  She never broke eye contact.  He looked tired.  There were dark circles under his eyes and stubble on his chin.  He looked worn and a little broken.

“Fight me.”

“You brought me all the way out here for sparring practice?”  The attitude was leaving his voice.  “It’s nearly ten thirty.  You should be back at your tent getting ready for bed.”

“No, I should be right here fighting you.  Now come on!”

“Why?” he demanded.  “You don’t even have your fan.”

“I don’t need my fan to fight.”  She punched, and he reacted on instinct, turning aside and blocking.  She didn’t give him a chance to back away, pivoting to send her knee at his side, but he stepped into her and shoved her with his shoulder.  She used the proximity to grab his arm and flip him, but he rolled with the momentum and brought her tumbling after him.

“Temari, what the hell are you doing?” he demanded while she kicked at him.  He grunted as her foot connected with his hip.

“What do you think?”  She rolled away before he could grab her ankle and popped up onto her feet.

“Why are we fighting?” Shikamaru was gritting his teeth, a sign that he was frustrated.  Good.  He hadn’t shut down his feelings.

“You tell me.”  She kicked at him again and he dodged, but she didn’t slow down, keeping him on the defensive.

“Stop it,” he growled, trying to grab her next punch, but she pulled back before he got a good grip.

“Make me.”

“Why are you being so troublesome?”  He threw a fake punch to throw off her rhythm, following up with a strike at her stomach, which she easily deflected.

“Why aren’t you in Konoha?” she shot back, glad that he was actually attacking her now.

“Why aren’t you in Suna?” he mimicked.

“Why are you smoking?”

“Why does it matter?”

“Why aren’t you sleeping at night?”

“How is it your business?”

“Why is it so hard to admit you’re in pain?”  Temari kicked some loose earth into his face, distracting him long enough to kick the back of his knees and pin him down with his arm behind his back and her knee on his spine.

“Is that what this is all about?” he groaned.  “Yes, I am in pain.  Your knee is breaking my back.”

“You know that’s not what I mean.”

“What do you want from me, Temari?”

“I want you to talk to me,” she admitted with more emotion in her voice than she would have liked.  “I want you to prove that you won’t let this eat away at you because I’ve been there, Shikamaru.  I’ve lost two parents.  I sat on my grief until it festered into an empty anger and a perverted sense of duty.  I neglected my brothers.  I neglected myself.  All I focused on was not disappointing a mother I barely knew and a father who didn’t know me.  That’s been a burden I’ve carried since I was three, and I still struggle with it.”

“Temari,” he said softly, but she cut him off.

“I’m not done.”  She took a shaky breath.  “I saw my father during the war.  I came face-to-face with him for a minute, and you know what?  I said nothing.  After five years of wondering if he’s proud of me, if I’m living up to the legacy he left behind, I had nothing to say to him.  Because he no longer has a right to my life.  My mother doesn’t, either.  They’re dead.  I’m alive.  My life is my own.

“Your father was a great man,” she continued.  “I’m not saying you shouldn’t want him to be proud of you.  But you’re still alive.  You get to choose how to live.  And part of that is choosing how you grieve.  You can sit on it and carry it for the rest of your life, or you can let yourself embrace it and learn to move on.  I think you know which is the better option.”

Temari focused on regulating her breathing while Shikamaru absorbed her words.  She didn’t like talking about her parents.  It brought a lot of mixed emotions and complicated memories to mind.  But she also didn’t like not knowing if he’d be okay.  Last time he’d lost someone close to him, it had taken time to find a healthy way to grieve.

“Temari,” he said in a low voice, and she braced for whatever deep conversation would be coming, “could you get off of me now?  My arm’s falling asleep.”

She shuffled aside so he could sit up, shaking out the arm she had pinned.

“Did you really have to drag me all the way out here and fight me to tell me that?”

“I needed to be sure you would listen.”

He stopped his stretching to look directly at her.

“Temari, I’ll always listen to you.”

“When you want to, sure.”

“I’m serious.”  He leaned forward, and she was thankful for the dim light which hid the emotions on her face.  “We don’t always see eye to eye, but I value your perspective and your friendship.  You tell me what I need to hear, so whenever you talk, I will listen.”

“So if I tell you smoking is a bad habit and you should stop, you will?”

“I said I would listen.  I never promised to obey,” he chuckled.

“Well I still have time to change your mind.”

“What a drag,” he said with something like affection.

They lapsed into silence for a moment.  Night bugs buzzed in the background, a promise that life would continue after the ravages of war.  Despite the dim light and the fact that she had just opened up about her parents’ deaths, Temari didn’t feel uncomfortable.  She and Shikamaru were well beyond the bounds of a typical friendship.

“So you are okay?” she asked eventually.

“Yeah, I will be.”  He leaned back to look at the sky.  The stars were blinking into recognizable constellations.  “I’ve learned how to grieve and I know how to live while honoring those I’ve lost.”

“There’s no route to revenge this time.”

“That’s fine.  I’m actually kind of glad.  There’s been enough death and vengeance in the past few days.”  He reached into his inner vest pocket.  Temari expected him to pull out a pack of cigarettes, but his hand emerged holding the battered lighter that used to be Asuma’s.  He fiddled with it in his hands but didn’t ignite the flame.

“Are you okay?”  Suddenly he was looking at her intently.  Even in the dark, she could feel the weight of his gaze and knew she couldn’t hide the truth.  Memories of the war that had kept her up at night flooded into her waking thoughts.  There were faces of shinobi she hadn’t known but whose deaths she had witnessed.  There were her brothers, hurt and exhausted but prepared to fight facing their own deaths.  There were the empty eyes of her reanimated father, bereft of pride and all but the faintest recognition.  There were those desperate moments when she had felt Shikamaru’s life slipping away and been helpless to save him.

But they had won the war.  Her brothers were safe.  Shikamaru was alive and beside her now.  In time, this reality would overcome those memories, and she would heal, too.

“I will be,” Temari promised, echoing his earlier answer.

He nodded, apparently satisfied with her response.  He returned to observing the heavens and fiddling with the lighter, and she counted the stars while sneaking glances at him.  Now that she had the time to look past the signs of fatigue, she could see the calm and intention in his features.  The tragedy of his loss was still there, but it was different from what she had seen after Asuma’s death.  She wasn’t worried that he would go rogue in an attempt to alleviate the pain.  He was grounded and purposeful.  Not for the first time, she was aware of how much he had grown and matured.  Her heart swelled with a warm feeling that was both unfamiliar and intoxicating.  She had to look away before it overwhelmed her.

“So you’re returning to Suna tomorrow, right?” he asked.

“I am.”  Temari thought of her home and her brothers who were waiting for her.  She missed the sand and the sun and the wind.  “It will be nice to get back to something like normal.”

“Whatever that looks like now.”

“Yet another thing we’ll have to figure out.”

Shikamaru grunted in agreement.  The lighter in his hand stilled.  A moment later, he sighed and tucked it back into his vest pocket.  He stood and stretched a bit before offering her a hand.

“Come on.  There’s something I want to show you.”

Temari knew it was late, but it was only fair to go along with him after she’d hauled him all the way out here to fight.  She let him help her to her feet.  Did his hand linger on hers a little longer than necessary?  Perhaps, but she didn’t pull away.  He let go when he turned to lead her back toward the camp.

“How’s your mother doing?” she asked after a few moments of comfortable silence.

“She’s hanging in there,” Shikamaru sighed.  “It’s not easy to lose the person you love.”

“You’re not in Konoha with her.”

“She doesn’t want me there.  I have a job to do.”

Temari tried to see his face, but they were moving too fast and it was too dark to read his expression.  Normally she’d expect families to grieve together, but the Naras came from different stock.  Shikaku had always had a strong sense of duty, and his son had inherited that same will.  Yoshino wouldn’t let either of them shrink away from their responsibilities, even when she was heartbroken, even when it meant sacrificing her family.  She was the strongest woman that Temari knew, but even the strongest needed someone to lean on sometimes.

“I probably won’t be able to visit for a while.  Give my sympathy to your mother.  And look after her.”

“Yeah yeah, I know.”

“Shikamaru, please.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll tell her,” he promised.  “You should write to her, though.  She’d appreciate it.”

Temari didn’t think a few pages of writing would be sufficient to convey sympathy and comfort, but it was all she could do for now.

They slowed as they reentered the camp.  Temari followed him towards the Konoha tents, her curiosity buzzing.  What was he planning to show her?  Had he intended to share whatever it was from the start, or was it an afterthought from their conversation and fight?

“In here,” he said, holding aside the flap of a tent.  She hesitated a moment, aware of how entering his tent might be perceived by others.  But there were few people around at this hour, and she and Shikamaru were known friends.  She stepped inside.

Temari wasn’t sure what she’d expected, but his tent was decidedly plain.  He lit the lamp hanging in the center of the small space, revealing a cot, a tiny foldable table and stool, and a travel pack.  He hadn’t tidied his bed after last night’s rest, and he’d thrown one of his vests on top of his pack.  There was just enough laziness evident to be on brand, but not enough to significantly hinder a speedy exit if necessary.  She supposed her tent would look much the same, albeit tidier.

“Have a seat,” he invited, indicating the small stool.  She balanced on the wobbly little seat while he dug through his pack to find whatever it was he wanted to show her.  Her curiosity peaked when he pulled out two scrolls and a handful of papers, passing them to her over the small table.

“Take a look at these and let me know what you think.”

Shikamaru took a seat on the edge of his cot while she looked over the papers.  They were covered in his somewhat lazy scrawl, and the edits and margin notes indicated he had revisited the text several times since first setting pen to paper.  She raised an eyebrow at him, but he just gestured for her to keep reading, so she did.

Temari could feel his eyes on her as she made her way through the papers and scrolls.  No doubt he was searching for any reaction to give him some idea of what she thought, but she was good at keeping her reactions neutral.  Not that she wanted to disguise her thoughts from him.  There was a lot she wanted to discuss in these pages, but she knew he would patiently wait for her to organize her response.  She wanted to be thorough.

Several minutes of silence passed before she set the final scroll down on the little table.  Temari looked at Shikamaru with his tired eyes and the weight of his grief with a new respect.  She was impressed with his work, especially given the current circumstances.

“So?” he prompted, eager to hear her thoughts.

“It’s a good start,” she said, flipping through some of the pages, “a really good start.  Have you talked to any of the kage about this?”

“Not yet.  Like you said, it’s just a start.  I want to get a more comprehensive plan outlined before submitting a proposal.”

“You don’t want to wait too long to get the process started,” she warned, drawing on her many years of Suna politics to inform her advice.  “Cooperation between the nations could wane as we start returning to our villages.  You’ll want to capitalize on the general goodwill as much as you can.  And get Naruto to help when you talk to the other nations.”

“You don’t think I can convince them myself?” he asked wryly.  Temari looked at him.  He probably could.  He’d earned respect throughout the shinobi world for his actions during the war.

“The kage like him,” she said with a shrug.  “Plus it’ll mean less work for you.”

“Thanks for looking out for me,” he smirked.  The way he smiled, strangely soft behind the amusement, made her feel warm.  She looked away, letting the papers in her hands provide a distraction.

“A shinobi union of all of the hidden villages,” she mused quietly.  Shikamaru had been thinking of the future even while dealing with the aftermath of the war.  Reading through his notes and ideas, she could see the future he wanted to build.  She wanted it to come true, and if anyone could make it happen, she was sure Shikamaru could.

“Suna will support the proposal,” she promised.  “This is exactly the sort of thing Gaara would want to come out of the war.”

“Can I count on your help, then?”  He shifted forward, looking at her intently.  The earnestness surprised her.

“It’s pretty late,” she said.  Suddenly she didn’t want to return to Suna right away in the morning.  There was so much more work to be done.

Shikamaru burst into laughter, catching her off guard.

“I’m not going to figure all of this out tonight,” he chuckled, gesturing to the pile of paper.  “But it will take me twice as long if I try and do it all myself.  There’s also value in a contributing perspective that originates outside of Konoha.  If this starts in collaboration, it would provide a better foundation for the shinobi union.  I could use your help, Temari.  What do you say?”

She remembered his promise to always listen when she spoke.  He was offering her a place in the future he was building.  Would she be up to the task?

“I say that I’m going to need a copy of what you have so far if you want me to help,” she decided.  “Do you have an extra scroll?”

He grinned as he pulled the requested scroll and a brush from his pack and handed them to her.

“Glad to have you on board.”

“You’re just happy to have someone else to do the work,” she teased, starting to copy the main points of the plan onto the blank paper.

“Maybe, but you always say yes when I ask.”

She hated how confidently he said it but delighted in the implied trust between them.  Still, she couldn’t be too predictable or she’d lose her reputation for being troublesome.  She’d make an effort to keep him on his toes, whatever future they built together.

[ratedbangtann]

✧˚₊‧𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐓𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐞 𝐃𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐬 - 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝐍𝐢𝐧𝐞 ✧˚₊‧ 𝘿𝙧𝙞𝙫𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙃𝙤𝙢𝙚 𝙁𝙤𝙧 𝘾𝙝𝙧𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙢𝙖𝙨 || 𝙆𝙞𝙢 𝙏𝙖𝙚𝙝𝙮𝙪𝙣𝙜 𝙰𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚘𝚘 𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝, 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚢 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍𝚗'𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚒𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗... Pairing: Taehyung x reader

Word count: 10.7K

Warnings: contains imagery that could be extremely upsetting to some. potential triggers for those who suffer with PTSD. mentions of anxiety. 

Song: Driving Home For Christmas by Chris Rea ✧˚₊‧

"Jimin, grab my case!" Taehyung called to the younger who was stood a little closer to the belt at baggage claim. Jimin launched forward to grab Tae's case for him, lugging it over to the trolley that Tae was stood with.

Tae was a little pre-occupied, trying to get through to you on the phone, but the signal from Incheon airport was absolutely dire and he was getting nowhere.

"Still nothing?" Jimin asked, lifting the case to the trolley for Tae while he redialled.

"No, signal's bad," he huffed. Finally, it started to ring. You picked up almost immediately.

"Tae-Tae!" you chimed, a grin spreading to your face as you were licking cookie batter off your wooden spoon. "Landed safe then?"

"Yeah, just gotta go pick my car up and I'll be on my way back to you," he smiled to himself, ignoring the kissy-noises that Jimin and Jin were making in front of him.

"Awesome, I was just making cookies for you," you giggled like a child, excited to finally have your boyfriend home for the holidays. You'd spent all day yesterday and most of the early morning today making food for him to gorge on when he finally got home; mince pies, Christmas cake, shortbread, cupcakes, brownies... Whatever you could. Tae loved your baking, always had done. He had the sweetest tooth and you loved to please.

"Cookies? You're baking for me again?" he laughed, "You're so cute."

"Yeah, Christmas cookies! They're shaped like trees and snowmen. I'll decorate them when they've finished baking. There's plenty more food ready and waiting for you," you sang, popping the spoon in your mouth once again.

"I can't wait, babe. Shouldn't be any longer than another two hours or so? I'll call you from the car when I've connected the Bluetooth up."

"Okay, careful on your way out! Speak to you soon!" you said, mouth full of cookie batter. With that he hung up the phone, shoving it back into his coat pocket. The boys had pretty much all got the cases now and were loading them up to trolleys to push through the airport. This was Tae's least favourite part of travelling; getting past the fans that were waiting.

As soon as they walked through the doors, the cameras started, the screaming, the pushing. Security crowded the group as they walked through, holding back the crazies and guiding the members to the minibus that would take them back to the parking lot their cars were waiting in.

"Taehyung oppa!" one girl shouted, grabbing at him and managing to secure her fist in the material of his coat. She tried to pull him, forcing him to step backwards and almost tumble to the ground completely unbalanced. Security quickly bat her hand away, pushing her back into the crowd. Taehyung started to panic, feeling far too overwhelmed and needing to get out of this situation as quickly as possible.

"Please, stay back!" he said calmly to the crowds pushing against them, but none of them listened of course. They all just wanted a piece of the boys.

"Stay back!" Security yelled, far more aggressive than Taehyung had been but it wasn't in his nature to yell at fans, no matter how disrespectful they were being. He was far too soft.

After fighting for what felt like an absolute age, the boys managed to escape the crowds being held by police, throwing themselves into the back of the minibus. The security took care of the cases, loading them up.

"Jesus that was worse than normal..." Hoseok complained, straightening out the collar of his jacket.

"Tae you okay? Saw you got grabbed..." Namjoon placed a hand on Tae's shoulder and he flinched a little, his head elsewhere and totally unaware of Namjoon's question. "You good, man?"

Tae just nodded a little, his eyes still wide with anxiety. Being mobbed like that always freaked him out, let alone being grabbed and almost dragged to the floor. He just wanted to get to his car and get back to you.

Namjoon noticed immediately that Tae wasn't right, but he didn't press the matter. He knew his brother well enough to know that Tae just needed some space, some peace to breathe and focus and he'd be fine.

The bus drove the small journey to the parking lot, leaving the screaming crowd of fans behind and giving Tae the quiet he needed. He let out a deep breath, pushing his curls out of his face. Not long until I'm home, he thought to himself.

The cars had been parked together before their trip overseas, securely parked in a protected corner of the lot. Jungkook and Namjoon had driven in together, Jin with Hoseok and Yoongi, and Jimin with Taehyung. But with Tae coming to you for the next week or so, Jimin was to drive back with Jungkook and Namjoon.

"Go easy on the roads, yeah? Probably gonna be icy," Jungkook said to the group, mostly to Jin and Tae who were actually going to be driving. "Text us when you get to y/n's. Or FaceTime us, we missed her too."

"Yeah, will do. Take it easy, Kookie. See you Christmas Day!" Tae waved to the boys, dragging his case over to the trunk of his car and hoisting it in. In no time at all, he was plugging his phone into the Bluetooth of the controls and dialling your number as he pulled out of the lot.

"Babe! Did you get through okay?" you asked, your voice filling the car and instantly. Tae's shoulders relaxed at the sound.

"Was rough, some girl dragged me..." he mumbled, focussing on the traffic as he joined the freeway. "I'm alright though, security pushed her back. I'm just leaving the lot now, ETA one hour, ten minutes? Should get to you around 10am."

"Tae, I'm sorry you were mobbed again. What happened to the private exits you were told you could use?"

"No idea, security shuffled us through the wrong way I suppose. I'm alright though, no need to panic," he reassured; whether for your benefit or his, he couldn't be sure. "I'm officially driving home for Christmas," he cheered.

"Yay! I can't wait, there's so much we need to do though. I've decorated but I haven't finished my shopping yet and I doubt you've had much of a chance to do any right?" you asked, pulling the cookies you had made out of the oven with your free mitten-covered hand.

"I've done some, we had some down time in LA. The shopping there is fantastic. But I wanna go to Lotte, I haven't bought for my mom and dad yet," he explained, merging lanes and pushing his foot down on the accelerator.

"Yeah we can do that! Just pick a day, I'm off work for the festive season now," you smiled as if he could see you, picking the cookies off the baking tray to cool them on the rack. Now you just had to prepare the coloured icing.

"Well tomorrow I don't wanna do anything at all, same as today. Can we just eat and snuggle?" he whined. You giggled at him, so cute...

"Definitely."

"Perfect. Put some music on babe, we can sing together," he suggested, not wanting to end the call with you but unable to fiddle with the stereo settings as he drove. You wondered over to the stereo in the kitchen, hooking it up to your open laptop with the recipes still loaded to the screen. You'd already made the perfect playlist for Tae's journey home; cheesy Christmas music.

You shuffled the playlist and immediately, 'Driving Home for Christmas' by Chris Rea started playing.

"Oh, perfect!" Tae laughed, shoulders shuffling to the upbeat music. You danced around the kitchen, still holding Tae to your ear.

"Driving home for Christmas! Oh, I can't wait to see those faces!" you both sang to each other down the phone. You put him on speaker phone and set him down on the worktop, while you mixed together the icing for the cookies, singing away to the songs that came on shuffle. You didn't even really talk to each other, just sang and kept each other company. It was nice; Tae often did this when he wasn't home. He just liked to call to keep you company, as if you were hanging out together.

You painted the icing on the cookies with little brushes, making cute little Christmas trees out of them and happy little snowmen.

Tae continued to drive, hurtling down the freeway. He gazed up into his mirror to see a large black SUV behind him, a little too close for comfort. He figured they just wanted to pass, so indicated to switch lanes to let them go through. He wasn't in the biggest rush really, wanting nothing more than to arrive in one piece.

But the SUV switched lanes with him, staying close. Tae squinted into the mirror, focussing on who was driving. Was it Jin? His car was similar, but... No... Just some guy he'd never seen before. He had a passenger Tae didn't recognise too, another man who seemed to be watching Tae.

Immediately, dread flooded through him, his suspicious mind racing. When he saw the passenger assembling something in his lap, he panicked again, pushing the accelerator down a little harder to get away from them.

The SUV sped up too, hot on Tae's heels.

"Fuck," he muttered to himself, doing his best to weave between traffic to trap the SUV behind someone else.

"Babe? You okay?" you asked, putting down the cookie you were working on. You could hear him muttering and the car speeding up.

"I, uh... I think I'm being tailed," he said, voice wavering.

"What? Well, uh... Are you sure?" you asked, worry flooding through you. Tae's eyes flicked back to the rear-view mirror, seeing the SUV dodging through the same cars he just had. The passenger now had a large camera in his hands, picking it up to aim the lens he'd assembled at Tae.

"I'm sure, they've got a fucking camera and keep driving up my ass!" he freaked, putting his foot down again.

"Tae, try and stay calm, okay? Change your route, go back to the dorm. You can come see me later, it's fine," you tried to reassure him. It didn't take much to figure out they were following Tae because he hadn't gone the same way as the other boys. They wanted to bust him and whoever he was coming to visit; you.

You'd tried so hard to keep your relationship out of the press and so far, it had worked. It was inconvenient to say the least; both of you had to cancel plans far too often for your liking but it was worth it for the moments of privacy that you could share.

"But I wanna see you. I need to see you, babe. You don't understand, you're the only one who can calm me down," he spoke so quickly, obviously having a panic attack at the wheel. The best thing you could do for him right now was to keep talking to him, get him to focus on driving and do whatever you could to calm him.

"I'm right here, okay? I can calm you down right here. But if you want them off your case, you're gonna have to go back to the dorm, understand? Just take it slow, they're not going to hurt you. You just need to focus on getting to the dorm, can you do that for me?" you asked, waiting on his response.

Tae had already felt panicky from the airport situation, his hands a little shaky and feeling far too easily spooked and now that he was being tailed, he could feel the anxiety bubbling away in his gut.

"Y/n I can't breathe..." he almost yelled, his breath laboured and uneven.

"Can you pull over anywhere? A rest stop, maybe?" you asked, desperate to get him off the road just for a moment to calm his nerves and clear his head. You headed to your stereo to turn the music off, so all he would be able to hear was your voice.

"N-Nowhere..."

"Okay, that's okay. Then you need to get into the slow lane, slow it down, and just breathe. Remember how I taught you?" you instructed. Tae nodded, realising that you couldn't see him but instead, working on the breathing exercises you had taught him for when his anxiety crept up on him this way. He didn't change lanes though, continuing to hurtle down the freeway to get away from the press.

Exhale through the nose for a count of eight, inhale through the mouth for a count of four; that was your exercise. You started to do it with him down the phone, counting for him.

It didn't seem to be working, tears building in his eyes as they flickered up to the mirror to watch the SUV behind him as they tried to pull out into the next lane to drive beside him, camera poised and ready. He watched them pulling up, inching closer until their wing-mirrors were practically touching. Tae couldn't think straight, could only watch in tears as the men invaded his privacy.

"Tae? Tae are you okay? What's happening? Just breathe..." your voice rang through the car but he couldn't focus on you at all, let alone respond.

The guy with the camera looked forward to the road and started yelling at the driver, waving his arm at him. The car braked, suddenly pulling back and Tae looked forward again at what the photographer was screaming about; the junction that was hurtling towards him at an alarming speed.

Tae slammed on the breaks, unable to take the sharp turn at such speeds and despite the brakes applying pressure to his tyres, the conditions on the road prevented the car from halting immediately, skidding across the road. He desperately clung to the wheel, turning it to follow the path of the road but he was going too fast.

The side of the car hit the crash barrier with a loud crack, pushing him back out into the road in a spin. His tyres had nothing to grip to, slipping across the surface and forcing him into the barrier on the other side. The wheels came away from the road, flipping onto the passenger side violently and rolling down the exit ramp.

The windows shattered, glass tumbling through the air as Tae sat helplessly being tossed around in his seat like a ragdoll. The car smashed into the crash barrier on the other side of the road again, slamming it to a halt. Silence settled on the wreck.

You could only listen in horror as you heard the first smash of metal on metal, glass breaking and loud crashes as the car had rolled before the line went dead. You had heard Tae screaming, yelling unintelligibly as he was thrown about inside.

Your heart raced, colour draining from your cheeks. With each crash and smash you heard, your whole body flinched, tears building immediately in your eyes at the horrific sounds you were listening to.

When the noise cut off, you started to yell for him, calling out to him as if he could hear you.

"TAE? TAEHYUNG?! TAE ARE YOU THERE?! FUCK!" you checked your screen to see the lockscreen; a photo of you and Tae snuggled up together with Yeontan. Immediately you tried to unlock it, frantically hitting the screen to get into it and call him back.

It rang out, no answer at all.

"SHIT!" you yelled, calling the first of the boys who was in your address book.

"Hey, y/n!" Hoseok's voice sang through the speaker after a couple of rings, alphabetically the first of the boys in the list. "How's it going? Tae with you yet?"

"HOBI, PLEASE! LISTEN!" you screamed. Hobi immediately shut up, concerned. "Tae was being followed, on the freeway. I think... I think he crashed, Hobi. I heard him! He was screaming..." you choked, sobs started to violently rise in your chest.

"Wait, are you sure?" he asked, trying to keep you calm.

"YES! I heard him, I heard it happen and the phone went dead! Hobi, please... what do I do?" you cried.

"HYUNG! CALL THE POLICE AND AMBULANCE. NOW," you heard Hobi shout to the someone in the car. "Where was he? Still on the freeway?"

"Yeah."

"Send them to the freeway out of Incheon, y/n thinks Tae's crashed. I know, that's why we gotta go there, now! Jin, turn around!" The boys were still driving too, a little further ahead than Tae and pulling off at a different exit.

"Don't panic, y/n. We'll get help to him, alright? Call Namjoon, get them to come to you," he instructed.

"Hobi it sounded bad..." you sobbed. "What if he...?"

"Don't. Don't even think it. He'll be fine. Call Namjoon, okay? I gotta go," he said, hanging up the phone.

At the freeway exit, Taehyung's car lay in a battered mess of metal. Other drivers had witnessed the crash, already on the phone to emergency services and watching on in horror as one brave man tried his best to see inside and check on the state of the driver.

With the car lying on its side, he had to climb onto it to see though the window properly, only just making out the driver's head lolling forward, his body completely slack. Tae was leaning toward the ground on his left side, held in place only by the seatbelt that still clung to him.

"Hey! Hey, can you hear me?!" the man called to him, getting no response back. He turned to his wife, stood a few feet away on the phone to paramedics. "Driver's unconscious! I can't see if he's hurt bad, I can't tell!" The woman relayed the information to the person on the phone, who could only reassure that help was on the way.

Back home, you were trying to call Namjoon, but the phone kept ringing out with no answer.

"Come on, answer the damn phone," you muttered, hands shaking violently as you continued to sob. Failing that, you called Jimin who actually answered.

"Y/n! What's up?" he sounded so cheery; clearly Hobi hadn't got hold of him yet.

"Jimin I... I need... you... to come... and get... me..." you sobbed, deep breaths shaking your voice as you did your best to speak clearly.

"Oh my god, what's wrong? Are you okay?" his tone changed immediately.

"What's up?" you heard Jungkook ask from the front seat of the car.

"I don't know she's crying, shut up!" Jimin called back. "What's happened? Why are you crying?"

"T-Tae, he... he cr-crashed. P-please, come here... Hobi is... helping... him. Please!" you sobbed, your knees giving way as you sank to the floor of your kitchen.

"SHIT! Oh my god, okay um... Jungkook, go to y/n's place!"

"What fo-?"

"JUST GO! NOW! Okay we're on our way, stay put." And the line went dead again.

You dropped the phone to the floor, horrendous sobs erupting out of your throat. You were so helpless, you had no idea what to do, or how on earth you'd be able to help in any way.

What if he was hurt bad? What if he...? No. No, you couldn't think like that. He'd be fine; Hobi said so himself. He had to be fine, because god knows what the hell you would do if he wasn't...

You weren't sure how much time had passed but you sat sobbing on the ground for a good while, waiting for some kind of news or development, but nothing came.

On the freeway, Jin couldn't get through the traffic that had built up behind the accident. But he, Hoseok and Yoongi had seen the emergency services rushing past down the hard shoulder, and without hesitation Jin managed to get himself onto the same clear stretch to follow after them. He couldn't care less if he was stopped by police, he needed to get to the scene. They needed to check that Tae was okay.

The boys were stopped as they reached the police tape cordoning off a good 20-30ft in front of where Tae's car lay in a heap. Hoseok jumped out of the car, immediately running and ducking under the tape to get to his brother, still trapped in the car.

"TAE! TAEHYUNG!" he screamed, hurtling towards the wreck where fire fighters were getting ready to cut into the metal. Before he could reach them, an officer bounded over to him, standing in front of him and pushing against him to keep him away.

"Sir, Sir! You can't go over there!" he yelled over the frantic boy as Yoongi and Jin ran to his side.

"TAEHYUNG!!!" he continued to scream, tears streaming down his face. Yoongi watched on in horror, his hands on his head as he stared at the wreck. His brother was in there. And he had no idea what state he was in...

"Hobi, Hobi! Hey, calm down, they're getting him out," Jin forced Hoseok to look at him, feeding him words of hope when he was doing everything in his power to keep himself together at the same time.

The officer let go of Hoseok when he stopped resisting, letting Jin hold his head to his shoulder as he sobbed.

"Officer please, he's our friend; our brother... Is he okay?" Yoongi asked calmly. The officer looked back at the wreck, watching the firemen saw into the metal, and turned back to the boys who were waiting for an answer.

"I don't know, honestly. Until they get him out, it's hard to tell. It was a pretty bad crash..." he spoke honestly, but his words gave little to no reassurance at all. "I'm sorry. When we know, you'll know. Please, come sit in the back of the squad car for now..."

He ushered the boys over to a waiting police car, lights still flashing on top. Hobi sat on the seat facing Tae's car, legs hanging out of the open door with Jin sat below on the rim of the door. Yoongi sat in the same position as Hobi, but in the front seat of the car so all three could watch for developments.

On the other side of the city, you had taken to pacing nervously around your kitchen, your phone gripped tightly in your hands. 45 minutes since the call ended with Taehyung. 45. You were going absolutely out of your mind with no news at all from anyone. You'd even typed into google "crash Incheon freeway" only to find the first developments of a bad road traffic accident at one of the exits.

Another few minutes passed, until finally a booming knock on your door frightened the life out of you. You ran to it quickly, opening it to see Jimin, Namjoon and Jungkook looking pale-faced and panic-stricken.

Jimin stepped to you immediately, wrapping you in a tight bear hug as the sobs you had managed to suppress resurfaced.

"Why is there no news, Jimin? I-I've h-heard... nothing!" you cried into his shoulder.

"No news is good news," Namjoon tried his best to make you feel better but until you could see Taehyung for yourself, alive and well, nothing possibly could.

"We're gonna wait with you, y/n. I'm sure one of the others will call to tell us which hospital they're gonna take him to," Jungkook stepped into your hallway, joining Jimin to comfort you as best he could.

But you couldn't be comforted, simply too distraught to listen to reason.

It took the fire service a further twenty minutes to cut into the wreck to get to Taehyung, still laying limp in his seat. The boys looked on as they removed a chunk of the car, opening it up enough to see Tae's hair that had fallen over his face. Hoseok jumped up immediately and raced as close as police would allow him to watch as paramedics rushed in to do their initial checks on Tae.

They lifted him out carefully, laying him down on a waiting stretcher to survey the damage. The boys could only observe Tae's limp body being dragged out, his head now visible to them; it was definitely Tae.

They could see the blood that had dripped down the left side of his face from his head, running down his neck. His white shirt had been stained red in various places but the scariest sight of all was just that he was completely slack.

"Oh, my god..." Hoseok breathed, clasping his hands over his mouth as Jin and Yoongi joined his side. They watched in horror as he was strapped to the stretcher, head placed amongst a brace to keep it from lolling to one side. They checked his vital signs, making sure he was in fact still alive.

"Come on, Tae..." Jin muttered to the wind, praying aloud that he was okay. They saw paramedics nodding to each other and rushing the stretcher off to the waiting ambulance quickly.

"WAIT! WAIT, LET ME GO WITH HIM!" Hobi yelled out, pushing past the officer that had stopped him for the second time and rushing to the door of the ambulance. The paramedics looked at each other without uttering a word, sharing a look of questioning. "Please..." he begged. The paramedics nodded to him, helping him up into the ambulance.

He sat in the corner, looking down at Tae who lay unmoving. From up close, he looked far worse than he had expected... He had cuts and scrapes all over his face, a large wound to his hairline where blood had poured out across his face and matting his hair to his skin. There was blood down his arms, a little soaked into the material of his shirt and covering his hands.

"Is he gonna be okay?" Hoseok asked the paramedics, his voice small and hoarse.

"He's alive. We'll get a full evaluation at the hospital," one of the men answered, still working on Tae as his colleague sat himself in the driver's seat of the ambulance and started the engine. He turned the sirens on and started to leave the scene of the accident. The paramedic in the back was stretching an oxygen mask over Tae's face, adjusting it to give him the airflow he needed.

"Can I hold his hand?" he asked, eyes never leaving Tae's battered face. He didn't care that they were covered in blood, he just needed to be there for him.

"Sure you can, man," the paramedic said, leaning a little away to give Hobi the room to reach for Tae's hand, lying cold against the stretcher. He squeezed it, warming it with his own body heat and pushing two fingers to his wrist to feel his pulse. He needed to feel it for himself...

The faint throb of Tae's veins gave Hoseok a new wave of hope; hope that maybe, just maybe, he'd be okay. His chest rising and falling was helping too, watching the most fundamental of human activity taking place. Tae's alive, he thought to himself. That's good...

"Shit, which hospital are we going to?" Hobi asked, suddenly remembering you were probably going out of your damn mind with worry. He hadn't called you back like he promised, hadn't kept you updated, and it had been over an hour.

"Inha University hospital is the closest," the paramedic replied, attaching electrodes to Tae's chest after cutting the fabric of his shirt open in order to monitor his heart rate closer.

Hobi pulled his phone out of his pocket to immediately text you.

When your phone beeped in your hand, you frantically pushed Jimin and Jungkook away from you, swiping it unlocked to see Hobi's message.

'Tae alive. En route to Inha University Hospital.'

"He's... Oh Jesus, he's alive..." you sighed with relief, still plagued with concern for his wellbeing. "Where's Inha?!" you yelled to the room. "Sat nav, let's go!" Jungkook immediately ran back out of the front door, you and the others in tow. You hadn't managed to get any shoes on, nor a coat; not that it mattered to you. Your main priority was getting to Tae as quickly as humanly possible.

You jumped in the back seat with Jimin, Namjoon taking shotgun with Jungkook driving. Namjoon had set up the sat nav as quickly as possible as Jungkook drove in the general direction of the hospital.

In the backseat you sat shivering; not from the cold, but from pure terror. You couldn't stop fiddling with your hands, pulling the cuffs of your ghastly Christmas sweater over them, biting your nails, scratching the back of your hand until it was sore.

Jimin noticed, placing his hand over yours to steady them, looking down at you with tears in his own eyes and a forced empathetic smile on his lips.

"He's alive, y/n," he affirmed, squeezing your hands. You nodded, turning to look out the window at the city as you passed through it. Jimin didn't let go of your hands for the rest of the ride, holding onto you as much for his comfort as yours. The others remained quiet, Namjoon chewing on his thumbnail and Jungkook concentrating on the sat nav.

You kept replaying those sounds over in your head; the crashing, the glass shattering, the screams... Those screams ran right through to the bone, and you were sure that you would never forget them. You could hear them so clearly, ringing in your ears over and over again. They were going to keep you up at night, mental images of Tae and his car hurtling through the air at horrendous speeds plaguing your subconscious.

Before Jungkook had even parked up you were jumping out of the car, running for the entrance to the emergency room with your socks becoming soaked from the ground as you ran. You could hear Jimin behind you, yelling your name to get you to slow down but you were on a mission; you needed to see him.

You ran right into the front desk with a thud, out of breath and panic stricken.

"Please, has a guy come in from a traffic accident yet? He's my boyfriend... Is he here?" you scrambled to tell the woman who was staring at you with wide eyes. She'd stopped tapping away at her computer to listen to you practically screaming at her, desperate for information.

"Ma'am it's a secure patient and we can't let anyone just wonder i-" she began but you interrupted.

"Please! He's my boyfriend, for god's sake. PLEASE!" you sobbed, Jimin and Jungkook finally catching up to you. The nurse immediately recognised them, fully aware that they were here for Taehyung.

"Where is he?" Namjoon followed in behind, a serious look on his face that hardened his jaw and strained the tendons in his neck.

"Sir, this woman, is she...?"

"With us, yes. Where IS he?" he repeated, impatient, leaning against the counter.

"They've taken him into surgery, he had internal bleeding in his abdomen. It'll be a few hours..."

"I'll wait," you said. You were determined you wouldn't be leaving until Tae was able to leave with you. If that meant you'd be here for days, weeks... You didn't care.

"Of course, you're welcome to wait ma'am," the nurse smiled sweetly at you, hoping that perhaps it would comfort you just a little. Of course, it didn't, but you appreciated her effort.

"Y/n?" you heard from behind you. You turned immediately to see Hoseok stood in the hall, his face pale and eyes wide. You scanned him, noticing the patches of dried blood on the end of his sleeve, a smudge of it on his cheek that he must have done absentmindedly. His hands had been washed, but he still couldn't hide the specs you noticed.

"Hobi..." you practically whispered, immediately charging towards him and almost knocking him to the floor with the force of your body hitting his, arms wrapping around him. He gripped onto you tightly.

"They're working on him, I don't know what's happening... Jin and Yoongi are in the waiting room outside surgery," he mumbled into your hair.

"Is he gonna be okay?" you sobbed, pulling back to look up into his face. You were begging for some kind of hope, some kind of reassurance. Hobi was good at that; giving hope. He prided himself on it, hence his stage name but right now he didn't know how to give you any.

"I don't know..." Your heart broke, watching the hope he usually exuded fading. Tae may be alive, but barely. He was clinging on, but who knew if he would recover... What if the surgery went wrong? What if he had severe head injuries?

Namjoon ushered you all to the waiting room, following the signs and helpful guidance of nurses along the way to find the surgery. Yoongi was sat outside with his head in his hands, Jin leaning back against the wall and staring up at the ceiling tiles. As soon as they heard footsteps their heads snapped towards you, hearts breaking at the sight of you in such a state.

Jin got up to hug you, but right now you couldn't really even react. You felt totally defeated, totally lost.

All you could do was wait.

Hours passed by in the waiting room, no one really talking. One of the boys would mutter something every so often, but you weren't listening. Jimin had bought you a coffee to keep you going but it sat untouched at your feet, going cold as the minutes passed.

You just kept imagining Tae; happy, smiling, laughing. You were picturing being with him the way you were supposed to be right now; filling your faces with the cookies and cakes you had made, snuggled up on the couch under a fleece blanket. Stealing little kisses from him, tracing little patterns on his skin to join the constellations of his freckles. Running your fingers through his fluffy curls.

But you weren't going to get that. You weren't even sure you would ever get that again.

What the hell were you going to do without him? Taehyung was the love of your life, the man who had changed everything for you. He had been the best thing to ever happen to you. He took care of you, and you of him. You love him, so, so much. You expected such a long future with him, never imagining a life without him.

But that could be your reality after today.

Time seemed to pass in stages. An hour would fly past, but the next ten minutes would feel excruciatingly slow. It confused you and infuriated you, your cold, wet feet tapping against the linoleum flooring. Nurses and doctors would come and go, none of them speaking to you, none of them involved in Taehyung's case.

"What am I gonna do without him?" you mumbled to the room.

"You don't need to think about that," Yoongi said, stern and certain.

"But what if..."

"Don't, y/n. He's strong." He sounded annoyed but you knew he was just processing, forcing himself to believe that you couldn't possibly lose Taehyung. None of you would be able to cope without him.

The thought was in the back of everyone's minds though, nothing but worry hanging over their heads.

After a while, a doctor came rushing down the corridor towards you. He seemed nervous, and you didn't like the look that was etched into his ageing face.

"Mr Kim's friends?" he asked. You rose to your feet immediately.

"Is he okay?" you asked, just needing an answer.

"He's lost a lot of blood internally. We need a donor... Do any of you know your blood types?" he rushed his words, needing an answer quick. You knew yours, but would you match Tae?

"I'm B positive... Can I help?" Jungkook piped up before you had a chance.

"No, I'm afraid he's A positive..." the doctor's brow creased.

"I'm A positive..." you almost yelled. You knew you were. You'd been on the donor list ever since you were eligible.

"Perfect, could you follow me please, miss?" he turned on his heels and you followed immediately, into a private hospital room where a nurse was already setting up the equipment for the transfusion.

"Please, on the bed," he motioned for the hospital bed. You hopped up immediately. The nurse rolled your sleeve up, wrapping a tourniquet around your bicep to ready your arm for the needle. You hated needles but this was more important. Far, far more important.

"You'll feel a pinch, but it's not too bad," she said sweetly. You turned your head away as she poked it into your skin, unable to watch. It dangled there, waiting for the tube to be attached to draw the blood out of your system.

"It'll take about eight to ten minutes, only taking a pint, okay?" she explained, as the tube began to fill with the dark red consistency. "You might feel a little light-headed, that's totally normal. But this could save his life," she smiled with a forced look of hope on her face.

"Is he going to be okay?" you asked again. Why would no one tell you?

"We're doing everything we can for him. This will definitely help, okay? Try not to panic. Just relax..." she soothed. You took a deep breath, trying not to look at the blood pumping out of your arm. After a few minutes, you did feel light-headed, but it was nothing you couldn't handle.

As soon as it was over the doctor took the bag it had collected in, rushing it out of the room.

"You can stay here while you get your balance back, if you'd like?" she offered.

"N-no, thank you... Can I go back to my friends?" You didn't fancy sitting alone in an empty hospital room right now.

"Of course, let me help..." she linked her arm with yours, helping you stand steady on your feet.

"Thank you," you smiled at her as best you could as she helped you back to the boys, sitting you down in your seat.

"You okay?" Hobi asked, taking hold of your hand. You nodded, not really wanting to talk but to focus on stopping your head from spinning. You simply squeezed his hand a little.

It took another hour of silence before another doctor reappeared, pulling the surgical mask off his face. You stood up again, a little too fast, stumbling back into Hobi who managed to catch you.

"Please..." was all you could say, words failing you.

"He's stable," he said, exhaling steadily. Your knees almost gave way, relief flooding through your body. "He'll be out for a while, but they're taking him to the ward now. The internal bleeding has been stopped, transfusion worked perfectly; it saved his life," the doctor put his hand on your shoulder.

You couldn't hold the tears back anymore, crumbling to pieces in the middle of the hall. Hoseok pulled you into his chest, letting you sob against him in relief. You could feel his chest shaking beneath you too, suppressing his own sobs. His arms wrapped so tightly around you, grounding you when you felt as if you could melt into the floor.

The boys around you hugged each other too, letting the relief show on their faces and tears spill if they needed to.

"You can come see him, if you'd like?" the doctor asked.

"Please..." was the only word you seemed to be capable of saying right now. All of you followed the doctor, hot on his heels as you weaved from corridor to corridor. Anxiety was building in your stomach, butterflies hammering themselves against your insides harder and harder the further you walked. Hobi held your hand the whole time, never wanting to let you go for both his own comfort and yours. Jimin had appeared at your side too, locking his fingers with your free hand for the same reason Hobi had. Everybody needed someone today.

"He's just in here," the doctor held his hand out, stepping to one side to let you walk through, but you halted in place, petrified. What were you about to walk into? What would he look like? The anguish on your face was clear to everyone who saw it. Jimin squeezed your hand, offering some support.

"He doesn't look as bad as you'd imagine, I promise you," reassured the doctor. "You can only see cuts and scrapes; his left ankle is in cast." You nodded, processing.

"We're here, y/n," Jimin said to you. You nodded again, taking a deep breath and letting Hobi push the door open with his free hand.

As soon as you saw the lump under the blankets, you immediately dropped the hands that held yours and rushed to his side. Your hands hovered over his, too afraid to touch him; he looked so delicate, strapped up to all kinds of machines with tubes sticking out of him; they were grotesque, like a violation but so vital. The monitor next to you beeped periodically, signalling each beat of his heart that was still fighting.

Fresh tears welled in your eyes and frankly, you didn't know what to do with yourself. You hadn't seen him in weeks, and you had been clinging to today, waiting for the time you'd be able to see his beautiful face and hold him, but you never imagined this.

There were large scrapes to his face, a split in his lip. He'd had stitches laced into his forehead, along his hairline to the gash that had coated his face in blood when Hobi first saw him. The hospital gown they'd adorned him in was unflattering, and the short sleeves did nothing to hide the gashes and bruises to his arms. His left ankle was in plaster, like the doctor had told you it would be.

He had a thick tube taped to his mouth that was hanging wide open, and clips on his fingers with wires attached to the ends. Next to the bed was a drip, keeping him hydrated while the bag you had seen earlier with your blood in it hung next to it, almost empty but dribbling the last of it into his system.

"Tae..." you whispered, although you were fully aware, he couldn't hear you. You couldn't look anywhere but his face, sleeping peacefully under the anaesthetic. "Can I touch him?" you said aloud, afraid to do so without permission.

"Of course," said the doctor, speaking softly in such a delicate moment. Slowly you reached for him, taking his hand in yours and wrapping your fingers around it. He felt warm, a stark contrast to the cold that Hobi had felt earlier that day. You willed him to squeeze your fingers, wanting to feel him holding you back but you knew, of course, it would take time.

"He has two cracked ribs on his left side, so just be careful around him. That's where most of the damage is and where we found the bleed in the internal tissue. That's been stopped with keyhole surgery, and he should make a full recovery," the doctor gave a full run down of his condition for you. "He did suffer a concussion from the impact to his head, but all tests point to no major damage to the brain."

"Thank you," you turned to the doctor, still grasping Tae's hand in yours with tears streaming down your face. The doctor smiled a tight-lipped smile at you and the rest of the boys who had filed into the room behind you.

"I'll give you some privacy. If you need anything, press the call button just there," he pointed to the little remote sat on the edge of the bed, and left quietly.

Silence settled over the room, a few sniffles from various different corners as everyone just watched Tae's chest rising and falling for a moment, listening to the beeps of the machinery.

"I should have met him at the airport..." you thought aloud, "I should have been with him."

"Don't do that to yourself, y/n. You couldn't have stopped this..." Jin spoke up, wanting to rid you of the guilt that was seeping into your mind.

"How did this happen?" Jungkook asked, meaning it rhetorically to curse the universe for the twist in fate but unfortunately, you had that answer.

"He was being chased," you told them.

"He was what?" Namjoon asked, jaw clenched with rage. Who would dare put him in so much danger?

"Press were tailing him... They got too close and it freaked him out. I tried to calm him down through the Bluetooth but... I think... I think they were following him to see where he was going." Anger started to rise in you, wondering where those men had disappeared to. They needed to be found. They needed to be prosecuted. They could have killed your beloved Taehyung. They almost did...

"Excuse me, I have to make some calls," Namjoon spoke through clenched teeth, heading out of the room on a mission to find the reporters who did this.

"I'll go with him, keep him calm..." Yoongi muttered, following.

Jimin stepped to the other side of the bed, taking Tae's other hand in his and sitting down in the chair on that side.

"We'll find them, Tae," he said to him, promising to get the justice he deserved.

"I'm gonna go get something from the vending machine, do you guys want anything?" Jungkook offered, happy in the knowledge that Tae was going to be fine and was safely surrounded by the people he loved.

"Anything, I don't care. I didn't realise how hungry I was," Jimin said. Hoseok declined the offer politely and you just shook your head, unable to tear your streaming eyes away from Tae. Jungkook left quietly, as if shutting the door would wake Tae.

"Sit down, y/n. You'll get tired," Jimin said, nodding to the chair perched in the corner of the room. You looked at it, contemplating. But reaching for that would mean letting go of Tae's hand and no way were you going to let go.

Hobi sensed the way you hesitated, grabbing the chair for you to sit without having to let go.

"Thank you," you smiled, genuinely grateful.

After about an hour, Namjoon came back into the room with Yoongi close in tow. You had lay your head on the edge of the bed, still holding Tae's hand tightly in yours, playing with his fingers as tiredness started to consume you. As soon as Namjoon walked back in the rest of the room sat up to listen to what they had to say.

"Police have been notified. CCTV is being checked along the freeway. Bang has an idea of who the reporters are, thinks that someone leaked information to them. He's investigating now," he said sternly, running a hand through his tousled hair. "No change?" he asked, nodding toward Tae. You shook your head.

"He could be out for up to 48 hours," Jungkook said, "I asked the doctors."

"Okay, well I think we need to get home. Shower, eat something, change; we'll come back in the morning." The boys all agreed, seeing little point in hovering in his room overnight if he'd be out for hours, possibly days.

"Y/n, who do you wanna ride with?" Joon asked, placing a hand on your shoulder.

"Oh, I'm not going. I'll stay," you said, resting your head back on the bed, looking up at Tae sound asleep.

"Y/n, you need to change, shower. You don't even have any shoes..." he argued softly, trying to coax you out of your seat. He crouched down at your side. "He'll be here when you get back."

"I'm staying here, Namjoon. I'm not leaving him alone. I don't care if he doesn't wake up yet," you stayed firm. "I won't have him wake up to an empty room."

"Joon, leave her," Yoongi pulled Joon's sleeve gently. "We'll bring you some clothes, y/n. Just make sure you eat something." You nodded, satisfied that they would let you stay with Tae.

"We'll see you in the morning, sweetie. Try and sleep too," Hoseok stepped over to you, placing a kiss to your forehead where you lay. Each of the boys said goodbye to you, and to Tae too, promising to see him later.

They filtered out, one by one, leaving you alone with Tae. You'd been waiting until you were alone with him, waiting to say what you wanted to, whether he could hear you or not.

"Tae... I know you, um..." you shook your head, ridding yourself of the feeling of silliness that you were potentially talking to thin air, "I know you can't hear me but, I gotta say this anyway. "I love you. I love you so, so much and I swear, I'm so sorry I didn't come to the airport. I'm sorry I couldn't keep you calm... I'm sorry, I tried. There was nothing I could do. I'll be here when you wake up, okay? And I'll take care of you until you're better, whatever it takes. I'll be here, the whole time.

"I don't know what I'd do without you, y'know... I was going out of my mind, I thought I'd lost you. I don't think I'd have coped, I-" a lump rose in your throat, another sob teetering on the edge. "You just mean the world to me. You've been there for me in my darkest moments and now it's my turn. I'm here, Tae. I'll always be here."

This wasn't like the movies or k-dramas; Tae's hand didn't twitch in yours. His eyes didn't flicker, the heart monitor didn't change its pace. There was no magical moment where he woke up at the sound of your profession, but somehow, you felt better.

The clock on the wall reached 2am before you finally let the exhaustion take its toll, resting both arms on the edge of the bed and leaning your head on top of them. It wasn't the comfiest position, but you were too tired to care. And you still kept your hand in Tae's, never letting him go.

Hours ticked by, with you peacefully resting next to Tae. No change, not even a flicker. Around 8am you were still sleeping, and Tae had been out of surgery for a total of fifteen hours. The boys were still at home, getting their rest and recharging to come back to visit in a few hours' time.

As you slept peacefully, you missed the most vital sign that showed any inkling that Tae was on his way to waking up.

His eyes rolled under his eyelids, eyelashes fluttering ever so slightly. They kept fluttering, gathering strength the more time went on. It took a good twenty minutes or so, but eventually, they started to flutter open.

Tae was waking up; he was conscious enough to hear the beeping, conscious enough to feel the weight of your hand in his, conscious enough to feel the oxygen tube in his throat and the clips on his fingers.

He took in a deep breath, completely of his own accord, eyes finally opening enough to see a blur of dark colours swirling in front of his face. When he tried to exhale, he choked a little on the tube, the sensation scaring him a little. His immediate reaction was to squeeze his fists, which in turn, squeezed your hand.

You stirred next to him, feeling the change and for a moment you thought you'd imagined it, not bothering to look up or to check. But then you heard him inhale again deeply, and splutter on the exhale again. Your head shot up, searching for the sight you had so hoped you would find, and you had been right.

Tae lay with his eyes open, wide in fact, panicking a little at the feeling in his throat.

"T-Tae...?" you stuttered, in total shock. He groaned a little, a gurgling noise coming from the back of his throat. "O-oh my god, wait... Stay calm okay? I'll get someone," you stumbled, letting go of his hand to search for the remote with the call button on it. You pressed it immediately, too scared to touch any of the pipes to remove them so Tae could breathe of his own accord.

It took less than a minute for a doctor and a nurse you hadn't seen before to rush in, immediately coming to Tae's side. They calmed him down, still panicking a little at waking up in an unknown place. Perhaps he hadn't remembered what happened? He'd be so confused...

They removed the breathing tube, still keeping him attached to the hydrating drip but removing the blood drip from his arm. They checked over a few of his vital signs, the typical light pen to the eyes and heart rates and blood pressure, etc... Satisfied with the results, they left you to it, promising to return a little later.

You stood in the corner until they left, watching them carefully. You stayed put for a moment when they left, letting Tae adjust to his surroundings before immediately charging over to him.

"Y/n..." he croaked, voice hoarse and scratchy. He reached his hand out to you, and without a second thought you ran to his side, clutching his fingers in yours. Except this time, he held yours too, squeezing them in his.

"I'm here, I'll always be here," you reassured, watching as his eyes watered at the sight of you, tears spilling down the sides of his head. He tried to speak again, but the dryness in his voice was keeping his words at bay.

"Wait, don't talk. Hang on," you reached for the jug of water on the table at the end of the bed, pouring him a little glass. The nurses had hoisted his bed up a little, folding him to sit up just enough to make it easy for you to hold the glass to his lips and help him drink little by little, soothing the dryness.

"Y-you... stayed?" he asked, seeming to be shocked at the idea that you waited for him, refusing to leave.

"I wasn't going to leave you, Tae. I didn't want you to be alone," you said, voice whining as you held back the tears again. Finally, he was awake. He was talking to you. He was alive. "I love you. Jesus, I was so scared... I thought-"

"Shh, no..." he squeezed your hand again, stopping you. "C-couldn't, leave you..." he smiled, wincing a little at the ache in his body. He tried to lift himself to sit up straighter, but it only caused him more pain.

"Oh god, no don't... don't move..." you panicked, hands hovering over him unsure what to do.

"I-I'm fine..." he raised his hands to stop you fussing, grunting as he settled himself.

"Can I do anything for you?" you asked, clueless and at a loss.

"Just... Just be here," he said, reaching for your hand again and lacing his fingers with yours. "Like you always are." He lifted your hand to meet his lips, planting a soft kiss to the back of your palm. You smiled at him, leaning down to place a soft kiss to the patch of his forehead that was exposed, far enough away from the stitches to not cause discomfort.

"I'm gonna text the boys though, so they know you're awake. I'm sure they'll be here soon anyway..." you told him, reaching to your phone that lay on the end table. You sent a message to the group chat you were all in together.

You: 'Tae's awake, doing well." Hobi: Already? Thank god, be there soon.

Namjoon: I'll wake up the others, see you soon.

Yoongi: you doing okay, y/n?

You: I'm fine. Relieved. See you soon.

"They're coming," you said, placing the phone back on the table and sitting in the chair next to Tae again. You grasped his hand in yours, placing kisses to each finger so gently, watching his face as it broke into a smile; the one you'd missed so much when he had been away.

Nurses came and went for different readings and pain-killing drugs to be administered over the next hour or so. In record time, all six of the boys wondered into the room at once with flowers and fruit for Tae. Tears were shed, hugs, awkward bro-handshakes...

"Why the fruit?" Tae asked them, looking at the hamper that they'd brought in with them.

"I don't know, isn't that what you're supposed to take to the hospital? Tradition or something?" Jin shrugged, making Tae chuckled. He winced a little at the jab he felt in his ribs with laughing, like a constant reminder that he really wasn't okay.

"We really thought we were gonna lose you, Tae... Scared the hell out of all of us," Jimin said, thinking back over the last 24 hours.

"I'm sorry..." he looked down in shame, somehow blaming himself.

"Hey, don't do that. You did nothing wrong," you said, running your thumb over his hand.

"She's right. Those reporters are being investigated, Tae. We'll get them," Namjoon confirmed, nodding his head.

"The nurses said before you walked in that it came close..." Tae's head dropped, looking down at his lap.

"If it hadn't been for y/n's donation, they think you may have lost too much blood..." Jungkook said without even realising he'd just told Tae what you hadn't managed to yet.

"Wait... what?" Tae looked over you, who was staring wide eyed at Jungkook and cursing him for letting it slip.

"You didn't tell him?" he asked you, confused.

"It wasn't important..." you shrugged, twiddling Tae's fingers in yours.

"You did what?" he asked, tugging on your hand to make you look up at him.

"They said you needed blood. We're a match, so..."

"You gave me your blood? But you hate needles?" It seemed like such an alien concept to him, that you would ever do something like that for him.

"Not as much as I love you, moron. You needed it!" you argued. Tae's eyes watered, touched that you would have done that.

"You saved my life..." he croaked, hot fresh tears spilling over his cheeks. "Thank you."

"Any time," you smiled, wiping his cheeks with your free hand. You leaned forward, pressing your lips to his gently. His free hand held the back of your neck, stopping you from moving away from him too soon. "I'd have given anything to keep you around," you sighed, forehead pressed to his.

"I love you so, so much..." he proclaimed.

"I love you too, Tae," you promised.

"A match biologically as well as romantically then, hmm?" Tae chuckled, with such warm sentiment it made your heart swell.

"I guess so," you grinned, "As if we needed any more proof..."

Conversation turned to other things, the boys chatting about seemingly trivial matters, but Tae could barely pay attention; he was totally absorbed in you and what you had done for him; something you thought had been so small, something so tiny that you just did without a second thought.

Around 11am, the doctor from yesterday that had brought you to see Tae came into the room, fresh faced and in different coloured scrubs than before. He checked Tae over for the nth time that day, asking him all manner of questions now that he was awake and aware enough to answer coherently.

"Doctor, can I just ask...?" Tae stopped himself, thinking he sounded trivial.

"Please, ask away Mr Kim," he offered.

"Can I go home for Christmas?" Tae asked, voice filled with hope. He'd just wanted to spend the holidays with you, and they were fast approaching, only a week to go.

"Mr. Kim, you're already surpassing expectations. You'll need to rest, probably be in a wheelchair for a few days but... I'm positive we can discharge you in the next few days," the doctor smiled triumphantly at Tae, who's face lit up completely.

Tae was coming home for Christmas. But more importantly, Tae was coming home...

*****

"Alright, be careful..." Namjoon said, backing the wheelchair Tae was perched in up the few steps at the lobby to their dorm building. Jungkook stood in front of him, lifting the front wheels to lift Tae over the threshold and into the building.

"I'm sure I could have stepped up that," Tae rolled his eyes, a little frustrated at having to have people cart him around now that he was home from the hospital.

"Oh, shut it, misery guts. We can leave you here with the breaks on if you want," you teased, stepping into the building behind Jungkook.

"You wouldn't..." Tae challenged, narrowing his eyes at you. You just smirked, stepping around Jungkook and planting a kiss to his cheek. You took the handles of the wheelchair from Namjoon, pushing Tae towards the elevator.

He'd spent the last day at your apartment with you, finally being discharged on Christmas Eve, ironically enough. But after the accident, you had insisted that the eight of you spend Christmas day together, as a family. So, you were now pushing Tae into the elevator to take him up to the dorm.

As soon as you pushed him through the front door, a chorus of cheers and yelps rang through the apartment. Tae giggled to himself, feeling a little awkward at the attention but frankly so grateful to them; he'd never felt so loved, so cared for.

Jin had cooked Christmas dinner with help from Yoongi that you all sat around the table to enjoy. You played games, made jokes, exchanged gifts; like a regular Christmas day. Nothing out of the ordinary at all.

"I got you one last gift, y/n. Well, Hobi got it for me, but I called in the order from the hospital and he picked it up for me..." Tae said, reaching into the large bag next to his wheelchair for a small, rectangular box. It was draped in a red velvet ribbon, invitingly so. He beckoned you to him, insisting you sit on his lap to open it.

"I don't want to hurt you, Tae..." you protested, but he was having none of it.

"You're not sitting on my ribs or my ankle, it's fine. Sit," he demanded. You did as you were told, perching on his lap with your legs strewn over the large wheel. He handed you the box, watching impatiently as you unwrapped the ribbon and lifted the lid.

Inside was a gold necklace, a little pendant attached. A red stone sat in the middle; it looked like a ruby, but no bigger than flat of a drawing pin, imprinted into the gold.

"Tae, it's beautiful," you gasped, pushing it around in the box with your finger.

"Flip it over," he said, grinning. You did, and on the back was a small inscription.

A+

Your eyes widened, heat rising to your cheeks almost immediately as you realised the meaning behind such a simple design.

"Tae..." you choked, your eyes glazing.

"Wait, that's not the best part..." he teased, reaching in between the open top button of his shirt and pulling out the very same pendant, already around his neck. "We match," he grinned, of course laced with hidden meaning.

You didn't know what to say, staring down at the necklace in your hands. Tae reached over to lift it out of the box, undoing the clasp and wrapping it around your neck to put it on you immediately.

You raised your hand to his chin, pulling him gently in your direction to place your lips on his so sweetly, so much honest emotion and passion in one little kiss. You pushed his hair out of his face as you pulled away, affectionately fiddling with the ends.

"I'm so damn lucky to have you," you sniffled, still so grateful to the universe for not only giving him to you in the first place, but letting you keep him when you thought you would lose him.

"And I, you," he grinned, popping a kiss to the end of your nose. "My perfect match." ✧˚₊‧𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐓𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐞 𝐃𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐬‧₊˚✧ - 𝘍𝘶𝘭𝘭 𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦

[timelock97]

Love Without A Name

Chapter Two: The Start

Word Count: 2410

Masterlist

Warnings: Language

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The whole weekend, the ring stay nestled on my finger, catching my eye whenever it caught even the slightest bit of light. Whenever my mind wandered to my appointment on Monday, my fingers would go to twist at the ring, a habit I had when wearing other jewelry.

However, now it is hanging on a chain around my neck, hidden underneath the fabric of my work shirt. My eyes skim over the last document I had to file today, signing it at the bottom and logging out of my computer to clock out. I slide away from my desk before packing the last few things inside my bag, including a few patient files that I would have to look over later in the evening. I walk down the hall and knock on my supervisor's door, calling out "I'm headed out, Michelle. Text me if something on the form is wonky, blah blah blah."

She giggles from behind her desk before waving me off, "Have a nice afternoon, (Y/N). I'll see you tomorrow."

Waving back again, I head to the lobby and say a quick goodbye to the receptionist before heading to my car. The Heart Haven office was only a half hour drive, which should have calmed my nervous/excited nerves. Today is the day. The fact that I was about to state whether or not we could move forward with getting married clouds my mind.

Designs of a million different themes swim in the back of my mind from years of hoping this day would finally get here. These thoughts were hiding my reasons to worry, worry that after everything was said and done, we wouldn't be right for each other, that even in the end this didn't work out.

My mind is so preoccupied, that it takes a minute to register that I had parked my car and am just sitting, staring at the clock stating that I only had seven minutes to walk down to the building, not that it took that long anyways. Bag tucked over my shoulder; I walk down the flight of stairs down to the street level to take the usual route to the familiar building. Once it is in sight, I stand a minute out in the cold, snow filled air to admire the outside of the old, brick building. Take a minute to collect my thoughts. I sigh, walking carefully up the ice covered stairs and open the thick, wood door, cinnamon wafting outside as I do. I smile at the receptionist as I shrug off my coat and scarf and hang it on the hook by the door.

"Afternoon, Ms. (Y/L/N). Hazel should be finishing up her last appointment soon. Do you want anything to drink?"

"No, I'm fine, Jane. Thank you though." The woman behind the desk smiles warmly before looking back at her screen. I move to sit in one of the leather chairs, fingers automatically going up to the chain and ring again as I listen to the soft music playing in the background.

The sound of Hazel's laugh echoes down the hallway as she walks out with her latest client, he smiles brightly at her and pulls her into a quick hug before walking out the door. Her eyes fall on me, smile still tugged up on her cheeks. "Hey, girl, you ready for today?"

"As I will ever be." I whisper, letting out a small laugh before following her back toward the room, "Uh, thanks again for having me early."

"Not a problem, it worked out in all of our favors." She opens the door and the first thing I notice is that her computer screen is turned toward the door, a mic placed on the desk beside it.

"What's this?"

"Well," Hazel walks around me toward the chair before motioning me to sit down, "I talked to Todd, and we thought that this conversation was more between the two of you. So, we're gonna hang back and just let you two talk. The mic will pick up what you are saying and type it out."

"Still trying to keep it as secretive as possible?" I laugh, looking at her with what I can only hope is an excited expression, and not one that looks constipated.

"We know it'll all work out in the end. Whenever you are ready, I told Todd you would start the conversation." She walks to the door, heels clicking as she does before giving me one last smile and walking out.

Sighing, I run my fingers into my hair, pulling at the strands slightly before placing my face into my hands. "I don't know why they don't just give me a keyboard. Wouldn't that of made it easier?" A small ping comes from the computer, causing my head to snap up and see my last sentence is now visible on the screen. Panic creeps into my chest as I squeak out another reply, "Fuck, here we go. Hey, handsome!"

I watch in astonishment as his words begin appearing on the screen. Couldn't agree more, love. I think it's because they want us to just talk and not think about it too much. How was your day?

This is weird as all hell. "Uh, it was good, how was yours?"

I am exhausted, especially since my mates wanted to go out after I had just arrived home. Probably could have used the few extra hours of sleep.

"I can understand that. Um, did your, uh, counselor tell you about anything that has been going on this direction or were you left in the dark?"

Want to get right to the point, huh love? I run my hand through my hair, ready to speak again, but he beats me to it. He did, I will admit that that is not how I wanted to do this, the whole asking you to marry me thing. Would have wanted to do it differently.

"What would you have done?" My voice comes out small, but God, the thought of him wanting to plan something romantic causes butterflies to erupt in my stomach.

I don't know. From what we always talk about I most likely would have taken you on a small vacation, something that wouldn't have made you suspicious. Maybe do it while in bed, just the two of us. That sounds really cheesy doesn't it?

"Just cheesy enough, handsome." I smile, fingers fiddling with the ring. I lift it up and look at it again, smile widening. "If you don't mind me asking, what made you choose the ring? I absolutely love it by the way, but it's been giving me anxiety all weekend." A laugh escapes my mouth, and a part of me is disappointed that the computer doesn't pick it up. "Like this conversation, because you can't tell how people are talking over text."

I'm glad you like it, honestly was worried of what you would think. Uh, if I'm honest, love. I just walked into the jewelers and was wandering around, was planning on buying you a necklace if I remember correctly. I told the guy that was helping me that I was getting something for my girlfriend, and while looking around I just stumbled upon it. I asked to look at it and all I could think about was all the things I had been told about you and what I had learned from you and-

The thought of it being on your hand, as more than just a gift, excited me. So, I bought it, and carried it on me for about two months. Never showed it to anybody, so when I asked Todd about when I could meet you, and the means of what could be done, I gave him the ring to be sent to you in hopes that you felt the same.

"You knew you wanted to marry me before you were even told about the plan?" I look at the screen in disbelief, heart fluttering in my chest, filling with unconditional love.

I feel like I have known for awhile that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you. To have you beside me for all the good times, and the bad. To raise little ones, watch them grow, and for us to grow old together. I'm ready for my next adventure, and I can't see anyone else more perfect to join me for the ride.

"You're going to make me cry, I swear to God." I swipe my finger under my eyes, catching a few tears before they escape.

Don't cry, love, it wasn't my intention, but I needed you to know.

"Well I am glad you told me." I smile at the screen, waiting for him to speak again, but he doesn't so I continue. "Did you know since the beginning; about that I didn't live in England?"

I was told about three months in.

"And that didn't scare you?" I whisper, glad the computer caught it.

It did, but I travel a lot for work, so it didn't bother me. Especially the more I got to know you.

"It felt like this whole thing was a dirty little secret, no one in my family knows about this, and only recently have I told one of my best friends because I just needed to talk it out."

My best mate thinks I am insane. Says ____, there are plenty of nice girls in London, what are you doing?

I immediately giggle, "Looks like we can't even catch a break on this system. Your name, or what I can assume is your name, got blocked out."

Damn, thought they would have let that slide. But either way, he's the only one that knows. But if we decide to do this, we have to tell our families.

"We have a lot to discuss."

We do. But first, I do have to ask. What are your thoughts?

"On getting married?"

Yeah

I smile, "I decided that maybe it's time I should be a little selfish and think of what I want."

And that is?

"If you really want me, that you want to try and be together and make it work, then yes. I will marry you." I watch as the screen blips, words popping up incoherently.

Woo-

Fuck yes-

I fucking love you-

I can't believe you said yes-

Wait it's still recording-

Uh, cool cool-

Oh, who am I kidding, I am completely ecstatic, my love.

At this point, I'm giggling so much at his giddy responses I don't know what else to say other than, "That was the cutest fucking thing ever, and I am taking a picture of that. And, handsome, I love you too, if you were wondering."

I can't wait to hear that in person. Cannot wait, my love.

Todd overheard my excited yelling and wants to come in and have us all talk with your counselor as well, is that alright, love?

"Perfectly fine, handsome." I whisper into the mic before standing and walking over to the door and smiling at Hazel. "They wanna all talk together."

"Then let's get this party started, shall we?"

The next two hours go as smoothly as they can. Todd and Hazel help the two of us begin our plans on when we could get married, and after some discussion, sooner seemed to be better than waiting any longer. As Hazel and Todd attempt to discuss when exactly the wedding should take place, I sit in silence. My phone buzzing in my side pocket pulls me from my fuzzy, love-struck thoughts. I glance at Hazel before pulling it out of my pocket and seeing that he had texted me.

-----

Him

Maybe we should have just discussed these ourselves before bringing them in?

Her

Most definitely. What are you thinking, date wise?

Him

Late spring or early summer, this year?

Her

Late May maybe? It would be beautiful.

Him

Perfect, now, it would be easier for my side of the family to fly anywhere I believe. So why don't we come to you. Is there anywhere you would want to get married?

-----

"(Y/N)?"

My head snaps up, and I attempt to hide my phone as if I was back in high school, hiding it from the teacher. "Uh, yes?"

Hazel looks at me in amusement. "It seems that neither you or your fiancé are paying attention in your appointments." She giggles at the end. "What are you two discussing?"

"When we would want to get married, he asked if there was any place here I'd like to get married."

She nods before leaning over and placing her finger to her ear piece, "Todd, did he admit that too?" She pauses before giggling. "Okay, here is the plan, we don't see you both till next week. So, figure out the main things that you two think you should figure out, Todd and I will get some other things figured out. Everything that should be discussed and either decided on or close to being decided on the time you come back. Sound like a plan?"

I laugh, nodding softly. "Yeah, sounds like a plan."

"Perfect." She lets out a small farewell to the man on the other end of the phone before standing. "Alright, I'll have Jane print out a list that you and him need to discuss for the week and I will see you next Tuesday, okay?"

"Yup, and uh, thanks again."

"Feel a little better about everything?"

"Yeah, I do." I look at her, nodding extensively before letting out a laugh. "Still nervous, but we will just have to see about everything."

"Everything else is just cracks in the sidewalk, sometimes you have to walk over them, around, or take a different path, but in the end we all get to our destination." She hugs me before taking in her next appointment, leaving me to wait in the waiting room for Jane. She is on the phone, but she pushes her chair away from the desk and grabs something off the printer before passing it to me. She mouths a quick, 'buh-bye' with a wave before going back to the person on the other end of the phone. I walk out of the building with a skip in my step, smiling at the small line of dialogue that replays in my mind as I walk back to my car.

I fucking love you.

I love you too.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think! Reblog and comment!

@revenantwriting | @bellagrayson-wayne | @jackiehollanderr | @snowxbarryxendgame | @let-me-luve-you | @mybitchborky | @linnyalou | @fanficscuziranout​ | @literallytrashhhhhh | @akweenbitch

Chapter Three 

[akianee]

[MCLUL] Episode 11 Ending - NathanielxCandy

Hello everyone! I must admit that I really enjoyed ep.11 of MCLUL. The writing wasn’t that bad and we finally got Nath’s arc so... I have nothing to complain about. BUT... at the same time I just needed to rewrite the ending of Nath’s route... I just needed it. It is nothing new, just a rewrite with some changed dialogues. I hope you enjoy it! And I am really sorry about possible mistakes, English is not my native language :)

Also this story includes my Candy. Her name is Valerie and she is a short blonde girl. 

Fandom: MCL (UL)

Words: 2883

Summation: Valerie rejects Castiel’s offer and comes back to her dorm. She does not know that there is someone waiting for her. (spoilers for ep. 11 included)

“No.” my voice was surprisingly calm. “I am not spending the night with you, Castiel. Not today, not ever.”

I rise up from the couch making his hand, which was stroking my arm just a moment ago, fall onto the seat. He seems a little surprised but says nothing.

I am not angry at him for suggesting me one night stand. We are grown ups, we both are single and there is nothing wrong with things like that. But at the same time… It just felt disrespectful. Like he sees me as one of his groupies who would give everything just to hook up with him. I am not that girl.

Besides we are friends. And I think it would really affect our relationship in not a good way.

There was also a third thing… He wasn’t a person I would like to give my body to. It's not beside him that I want to wake up in the morning. It's not his hands that I want to stroke my skin. It's not his lips that I want to kiss.

“I am your friend, for God’s sake.” I mumble as I try to put on my heels. Why did I chose these pumps a few hours ago when I was completing the outfit? Those with many stripes, difficult to put on? Guess I didn’t know I would have to put them on in such a hurry. “I am not a one night stand. Especially not for you.”

Finally, when I have my shoes on, I reach for a purse. My hands are a little shaky and I feel a bump forming in my throat. I have to get out of here.

“You don’t have to be so annoyed.” he hisses. “I offered something and you did not agree. No big deal.”

I look at him with eyes full of shock. All evening he has been acting strange but now… He is not the Castiel I know. From what I remember he takes relationships very seriously. All of them. And at present he acts like he doesn’t care at all.

Well, maybe he needs a distraction from his fame, groupies and all that stuff. Maybe he is just tired of this and wants a relief. But I am not going to allow him treat me this way.

“Goodnight, Cass.” I try to stay good-tempered. I’ve had enough fights and misunderstandings within last week so now I’d rather avoid any.

Without waiting for his response I run out of the apartment and immediately go to the elevator. My heart is pounding and legs are shaking. It is too late to have any physical activity so my body is opposed to running.

Last week was one of the most fucked up in my entire life. I was on a date with Nathaniel and we kissed. Rosa experienced a great tragedy. I practically poured more tears than ever before previous sunday. Than Nath threw me out of his life. Again. And now Castiel wanted to sleep with me.

Can someone explain to me what the hell is going on? Because I am starting to lose my mind.

Unfortunately, it's very cold outside, and I'm wearing only a short club dress. My mother would probably kill me if she saw me without any jacket in such weather. So I’m kind of lucky parents live in a town few hundred kilometers away.

At this time, the streets are almost deserted. The only person I see is an old man walking his dog out. A strange hour to do that but it’s not my business. Calmly, but quickly I pass the cafe where I work. For a moment I look at my reflection in the window pane.

Blond curls, over which I spent almost an hour, now are almost straight. I see a few tangles in the bottom part of my hair, but because it is like this everyday, I do not care. Fortunately, my make-up is almost intact. Lipstick survived the few drinks I drank all night and mascara did not smudge under the influence of sweat. Even my eyeshadow is in place, still as shimmery as it was this afternoon.

I look good. Beautiful purple dress hugs my body in a nice way and high heels give the impression of lengthening my legs.

But what if I look like this if nobody appreciates it?

Well, Castiel did.

I bite my lower lip thinking about his offer. Maybe I should have stayed. He said I looked beautiful and he was the only one to do that this evening. It wasn’t Nathaniel, but Castiel.

Shaking me head I walk towards the campus. I can’t think that way. It will destroy me.

I run the distance between gate and the dorm. It is too cold outside and I prefer to get tired rather than freeze. My feet hurt and my whole body begs me to rest. The only thing I want now is to slip into bed and fall asleep hoping tomorrow will be better.

The dorm building welcomes me with warmth and a familiar smell of window cleaner. Immediately I feel my muscles relax slightly. I could say a lot about this place, but it has been my home for a few months now, so I'm always happy to come back here. When I finally reach my floor, I notice someone sitting right next to door to my room.

More surprises today? Great.

“Nath?” a raspy voice leaves my throat when I come closer and am able to recognize that person. My heart stops for a second as he gets up and scans my body with his golden eyes. He seems tired and I start to wonder how long he has been sitting there… “What are you doing here?”

“Valerie. I was waiting for you. I-I wanted to see you.” he says quietly while putting his hands into the pockets of light jeans. “Your roommate said you had gone out. She was leaving and she refused to let me wait for you inside.”

I steady my breath as I approach the door with the intention of opening them. Keys must be somewhere in my purse but I have a difficulty trying to find them. Nath watches my every move and I have to really control myself. Otherwise I would probably break down in the middle of this corridor.

He wanted to see me. Heat pours out in my chest at the very thought of words that he said just now. But I cannot give in to him so easily. He hurt me. He threw me out of his life. I can’t just throw myself in his arms just because he came to my dorm.

“Well, I’m glad to see you.” I mutter with a small grin in spite of my thoughts. But still I don’t look at him.

“Really?” shock in his voice mixes with joy which makes me smile even wider. “I surely don’t deserve that smile.”

“You’re right. You do not deserve it.” with one hand searching the purse and the other holding the handle, I send him a quick look. “Look, I don’t know why you came, but I for one, am going to bed.”

Finally, I manage to grasp the keys and take them out from this bottomless abyss. I definitely need to get a bag with compartments.

“Wait, Val, please.” Nathaniel grabs my forearm, but only for a few seconds. When I raise my head to look at him, he pulls back his hand and makes an apologetic face. “Please. I screwed up. I really did. I should have never done what I did. I should have never said what I said.” he moves even closer to me. Although I have heels on, I have to hold my head up to be able to look at his face. “Last Saturday… our date… I haven’t been as happy and carefree for a long time. The last time was probably with you, before you moved away.”

Something in my stomach flips and I feel my legs shaking again. I wasn’t ready for confessions like that. I try to stuck key in the lock without looking at it but I have to admit, I’m terrible at it.

“Nath…”

“I wish all my Saturdays could be like that one. If only I could, I’d be here in front of your door every night.” he takes a deep breath and then goes on. “I want all my weekend belong to you. I want you.”

Dealing with emotions has never been my strong point. I always feel everything twice as hard as others. But now I have the impression that everything that I have been experiencing the last few years has suddenly fallen on my head. I feel how remnants of self-control slowly leave me. Added to this was Nathaniel's suffering and my tiredness. I was almost like a ticking bomb ready to explode.  

But I had to be strong.

“I-I can’t, Nath.” I slowly turn my face away from him to finally open the door to my room. “I am not doing this again. You come back now and you are gonna leave… tomorrow? Or in a week? I am not playing this game. It hurts too much.” my voice turns into a whisper and I don’t know if it’s because of sadness or tiredness or both.

“That won’t happen again.”

“Oh, really? Last time you were so certain that we cannot see each other. What has changed?”

I push the door open, but I do not make any step. This conversation is not over yet.

“It wasn’t my decision.”  his response causes a shudder to pass along my spine. “Someone forced me to.”

“What? Meaning?”

“Val… I can’t--”

“You can’t explain, of course.” I interrupt him sick of this bullshit. “That is exactly why I cannot continue either. Goodnight, Nathaniel.”

Before I manage to enter the room, Nathaniel grabs my shoulders and turns me away sharply. The pain is very visible on his face. I can see how much he fights with himself inside.

“I worked for a huge drug cartel and now they are out to get me.” he says on one exhale still holding me. His skin is warm compared to mine and it makes me feel a bit better. “They are really awful people and they are threatening me.”

A few months I waited for him to finally reveal the truth about his actions. And now, when he does it, it sounds so unlikely that the only thing I can do is look at him with big eyes.

“Do not… Do not bullshit me, Nath. It’s a bit much for me to believe.”

“But it’s true. I screwed up so many times. All these years I made only wrong choices. And now I am worried they will come after people that I care about. After Amber. Or after you. That’s why I pushed you back. Do you really think I want them to be able to use you against me? To hurt you?”

Nathaniel starts rubbing his hands over my naked frozen shoulders. I do not know if he's doing it to make me feel better, or to make himself feel better.

“I don’t know… I don’t know what to say. It just sounds so… unbelievable.”

“When you came back, when I saw you that night in the alley I… I-I remembered that there are people in this world for whom I want to try and be better. But it was too late. Much too late.”

He flings himself to the floor, wrapping his arms around my waist. I feel how his body shakes under the influence of emotions. Tears well up in my eyes.

“Oh God…” I whisper putting one hand in his hair and the other massaging his arm. That is something he used to do to me when I was shattered inside. Maybe it would help him.

“Please. Please let me tell you everything” his voice is muffled by the fabric of my dress, but nevertheless I am able to understand him perfectly.

“Okay, Nath, get up.” I try to help him stand up. “Come inside. We will talk.” I make that decision in a fraction of a second.

He follows me into my room. We do not make eye contact, because if we did, we would both cry.

I take off my heels and throw them into the corner between wardrobe and a wall. My feet are happy to welcome soft carpet and only now do I really feel how frozen and sore they are. Nathaniel closes the door while I put my purse on my desk and then lean on a piece of furniture with my hands crossed on my chest. We are about two meters apart, but I can still feel his cologne and the warmth of his body.

“So…” I say quietly. “Tell me everything.”

And he does.

He tells me about how he got into all this years ago. About how he thought he was smarter, but they really outraged him. He also mentions his parents and quarrels and lack of money. Everything that he says arouses great anxiety in me.

I feel guilty for leaving him. And even if I could not stay, I feel that I could try harder. For him.

Then he says something about his tasks in the cartel and how much they paid him for it. About what he did not to prey on poor people buying these drugs. Inside, I was proud of him, that even in this situation he wanted to do something better than just sitting and watching.

Of course, my first thought is the police, but Nathaniel quickly rejects it. He has his reasons for that. His sister knows everything, and if he goes down, he'll take her with him. Maybe I do not fully understand that, but I try to.

Everything that he says makes my head spin and tears spill down my cheeks. I’m still on my feet only because I lean on the desk. I try to wipe tears so that Nath will not notice them, but judging by his sad eyes I think he did notice a moment ago.

“I'll go now. I do not want to bother you anymore.” he says turning to the door.

“Wait.” I take a few small steps towards him, slowly and calmly. I try not to fall. He turns back to me. “Why did you come here today?”

He takes a deep breath.

“Because I realised you were the only person who made me want to get myself out of this mess. I went home, convinced I had made the right decision, but… Then I perceived that I did not want to live like that.”

“Meaning?”

“Away from you. I could not see you. Talk to you. Make you laugh. You reminded me what it was like to feel carefree. To not worry about anything, for a second, long enough for a kiss.” slight blush appears on his face. And I am probably all red already. “You give me the strength. Like you used to. And I really hope, that this time you won’t let me leave…”

“And I hope you won’t ever leave again.”

“I have nothing to hide anymore.”

“So you won’t ever leave again?” my voice seems higher than usual.

Unexpectedly, Nathaniel takes me in his arms, pressing me strongly against his chest. I embrace his waist and press my head to the place where I hear his heart beat.

“Do you want me?” this question sounds almost bizarre coming from his mouth.

“Yes.” I reply. “And do you want me?”

“Aren’t you afraid of me? Of what I do?” his answering question with a question does not surprise me at all.

‘Well, no.” how could I be afraid of the only person who is so significant to me? “Aren’t you afraid of getting involved in this relationship?”

“I really care about you. You are important to me. I will do everything… anything to protect you. And us.”

I smile broadly at his words. I have wanted to hear them for so long now.

I lift my head up and step on my toes to kiss him. Everything seems to disappear. There is only me, him and the sense of security that I feel while being in his arms. This kiss is slow, passionate and expresses more than any words can. With every move of our lips, he draws me closer and closer. As if he was afraid that I would run away or disappear. But I am not going anywhere and I want to show him that.

So I kiss him until I lose my breath, and when in the end we both have to split up to get some air, I rest my head on his chest. Nathaniel leaves a quick peck on my hair. I feel his warm breath on my skin when he leans over and leaves another kiss next to my ear. I giggle quietly.

We sit on my bed. I don't even think about changing or removing makeup. The next two hours pass us by talking, kissing and laughing and when fatigue begins to take control over me, Nath takes me in his arms again. I fall asleep almost immediately.

[yaachtynoboat711]

Fonder Ch. 5

A/N: Oh, boy! I’ve personally been waiting on doing this chapter. There’s a bit of a curve ball in our favorite couple’s journey back together. If y’all thought y’all hated me in Chapter 1, then get ready for this chapter. 😘😘😘

Word Count: 2.2K

Warning(s): Slow burn, plot progression, few errors/typos

The months following Yaa’s most recent encounter with her ex-boyfriend left her more hurt and emotionally distant than before. She didn’t go out like she usually did; her nights out were substituted with take out and binge-watching movies and TV shows. She wasn’t as bubbly as she usually was. In an attempt to distract herself from her pain, she turned to her drug of choice: work. At any given moment, Yaa was more than likely working if she weren’t sleeping or eating. She took on a heavier workload and miraculously met success with the cases she worked on. As the year came to a close, Yaa had realized that her year had been trash. She lost the love of her life over some fuck shit and realized that her love life, if you could even call it that, was a joke.

Everyone around Yaa hated to see her in such a sad state. She’d said she was fine but everyone knew she was suffering. So much so, her family surprised her for Christmas in D.C. and stayed with her for a week. While the surprise visit definitely boosted her spirits, she continued working her frustrations out. She’d felt played—she’d allowed the supposed love of he life to take advantage of their relationship twice. She was physically, emotionally,and spiritually tired.

Her luck changed with a call from Tanisha one afternoon.

“Clear your schedule for New Year’s Eve: you got invited to the Black Gatsby soirée by Mr. Gatsby himself.”, Tanisha stated in a matter of fact.

Yaa took the phone away from her ear and stared at it, fully aware of Tanisha’s distant voice calling her name. “Girl, what?”

“You heard me. Mr. Gatsby has invited yo fine ass to the Black soirée on New Year’s Eve.”

“Mr. Gatsby? Bitch, you know he’s a fictional white character from a book,right? Not just any book—my favorite book. Francis Scott Fitzgerald would somersault in his grave if he knew a Black man was tryna play his character.”

Tanisha snorted. “I know. For the sake of anonymity, that’s what he’s referring to himself as. Just come to Cali and live ,bitch. I’m sick of seeing you all sad and overworked and shit. You deserve more; you’re 24 and full of life. Ring in the new year with a refreshing turn up. Live a little, bitch. I’ll be calling again this week to make sure you’re coming.” Beep beep beep.

Yaa spent the rest of that day thinking about what Tanisha said. Who was Mr. Gatsby? What did he want her ? Finding out his identity and his motives were the least of her worries. As rough as her year was, she deserved to party like it was 1922. Live a little, bitch.

———

Yaa spent the next month speculating who this Mr. Gatsby character could be. He’d sent many gifts On what would’ve been her and Winston’s first anniversary, Gatsby sent 3 dozen of her favorite roses— pink, white, and yellow— to her office with a note:

You deserve more today. Think not of what should be, but what is now.—JG

For Christmas, Gatsby sent Yaa a gold circle necklace with a single pearl dangling from the middle of the circle. Same note. These grandiose gestures left Yaa shook: she’d been out-extra’d by an anonymous admirer. She immediately ruled Winston out because he just wasn’t a frivolous spender and though he was being a fuck nigga at the moment, he was too humble to even think about doing all the things Gatsby had done for and sent her.

Tuesday, December 30, 2014, Malibu, California

Matt picked Yaa up from the airport per usual. On the way to Malibu, he picked Tanisha up as well. While en route to the house, Tanisha caught Matt up with the tea involving his ex-turned-best friend.

“Wait...so there’s a secret admirer...calling himself ‘Gatsby’...only communicates through Neesh...and is inviting you to a New Year’s party?! What the hell?”, Matt recalled.

“Well, I’ll say this: she knows who he is, but he’s not giving up his identity just yet.”, Tanisha suggested. Yaa’s neck whipped to look at Tanisha’s smirking face; she wasn’t lying.

“So, it’s not Wins? Confirmed?”, Yaa asked.

“I’m absolutely, positively certain it’s not Winston, sis. Buhlee dat!”, Tanisha assured.

Something told Yaa to check her mailbox. True, she didn’t have reasons to have mail after being away from her Malibu home for not even two months, but it never hurt to look. When she looked inside, she was met with a matte black envelope. The words “ Khalida Y.D. Abdullah, Esq.” were beautifully calligraphed on the front of the envelope in gold ink. She turned the envelope to see “JG” stamped in gold wax. Homeboy puttin’ in that work. Before she opened the envelope, she noticed a medium-sized box wrapped in a similar matte black wrapping paper.

“Boy, this nigga tryna gift you clean out yo draws, I see.”, Matt observed as he picked the box up for Yaa, scaring her.

“You sound a pinch jealous, Griff.”, Yaa teased.

Matt rolled his eyes, “Whatever. I gave you the world and a Super Bowl ring, woman. Remember that.”

“Correction: you gave me one of my two rings. Don’t play with me.”, she playfully snapped back, kissing his nose as he walked into the house with the box.

He gently sat the box in front of Yaa’s usual spot on her L-shaped sectional. Tanisha finally joined Matt and Yaa in the living room and took notice of Gatsby’s packages. Yaa kicked the box over on its side.

“The hell you do that for?!”, Tanisha demanded.

“Bitch, this coulda been a well packaged pipe bomb for all its worth.”, Yaa answered.

Tanisha wagged her finger at her best friend. “Somebody needs to ban Forensic Files from your Netflix queue.”

Yaa rolled her eyes as she began opening the envelope. Whoever was responsible for the letter was very abreast to detail. The letter was typed on a typewriter, a personal bonus for Yaa as she was the proud owner of a vintage typewriter.

Yaa--

By the time you read this letter, you will already be back in sunny California. Also, if you are reading this letter, then you have instinctively followed directions. In the box is a special gift for tomorrow night; I hope you enjoy them. Secondly, upon your and Ms. Holloway’s arrival, there will be two attendants escorting you to your VIP section. The people at the door will know exactly who are. When you go to coat check, ask the attendant for directions to “The Pit”. Upon your question, you’ll be taken to through the VIP entrance. Your access code word is bubbly. Can’t wait to see you.

JG

The Pit? That sounds familiar. Hella familiar. Yaa moved to the box. The matte black wrapping paper was too pretty destroy, but fuck it. Her eyes shot open when she saw silver strappy heels in the box. “Oooh, this’ll go perfectly with my dress for tomorrow!”, she yelled out. The turn-up countdown had commenced.

NEW YEAR’S EVE

Tanisha and Yaa had a sleepover and went straight into preparation mode for the evening when they woke up that afternoon. After getting their hair and makeup done, the two returned to Yaa’s house to change. “Sis, can you zip me up?”, Yaa yelled as she sashayed to the other side of the hall. Tanisha responded back that she was coming but then stopped and began to whistle at her best friend’s floor-length dusty rose gown. The embellishments gave the gown a modern Gatsby remix. She wore the silver shoes Gatsby sent. Her locs were styled into a curly chignon and accessorized with a pearl headpiece.

“My goodness, Yaa!”, Tanisha complimented.

“Why, thank you, old sport.”, the two shared a laugh.

Mr. Gatsby sent a 1921 Rolls Royce to Yaa’s front door. Mr. Collins drove the two friends to the party’s location--an art gallery? Mr. Collins wished the girls a good night and happy new year as he pulled off. “ AN ART GALLERY?!”, the two squeaked in unison.

The art gallery was like any modern art gallery: polished light hardwood floors, white walls, semi-dimmed lighting and enough colored canvases to stir up many a conversation. There was a lively gathering taking place in the gallery, making the journey towards the back of the gallery less suspicious. Yaa and Tanisha made a beeline to the back stairwell. Gatsby warned Yaa that there’d be a bodyguard armed with a riddle-like question that only she would know the answer to before they could go down descending flight of stairs, the pair was stopped by a bodyguard in a tailored suit.

“Wait a minute, ladies. You can’t go down there.”, the bodyguard bluntly stated. Before Tanisha could tell the bodyguard about himself, Yaa covered her mouth. “Gatsby knows who we are.”, Yaa assured. The bodyguard shook his head. “Suuure...tell me, Doc, how you want that pit beef sandwich?” How dare he challenge my trivia. “Medium rare, extra horseradish, dummy.” The guard nodded and let them pass.

After knocking on the dark door four times, it opened to a dimmer foyer. The coat check attendant, a bubbly young woman, turned to them. “Whatcha need, sweetheart?”, she asked taking a sip from her martini glass.

“Can you show me how to get to the Pit?”, Yaa asked. The attendant nodded her head towards the other coats, “Right this way”. The two friends walked behind the counter, where the attendant pointed into the coats.

“Happy new year, ladies”, the attended said as she pulled some of the fur coats away from each other, revealing a door and opening it.

The other side of the door was the rabbit hole to a fucking circus. Beautiful Black bodies donned their Cotton Club’s best. The biggest names in entertainment, sports, and music made this chocolate El Dorado their haven. The blue and purple backlights provided just enough light to highlight the various shades of melanin against their outfit. The guests on the dancefloor in an almost ritualistic unison to the musical drug the DJs hooked them onto. The two attendants escorted Yaa and Tanisha past the many 8-person tables full of people hypothesizing on who they thought Gatsby was.

Further down to the right was the bar. The purple backlit shelves displayed the finest and rarest spirits anyone could legally obtain. Scattered around the club were about 15 cigarette girls and hostesses distributing drinks and hors d'oeuvres. The pair had finally arrived to their VIP section: a semi-circle couch with a hookah on the small table, all cloaked underneath a sheer white canopy.

Everyone in attendance left their inhibitions and year-long worries at coat check. With the year Yaa had had, she deserved first dibs for dancefloor access. A wild break-up, major career moves,two emotional breakdowns and surviving her first year of practicing law summarized Yaa’s 2014. There was no way in hell she would go into 2015 and her 25th year of life stressed. Her longing to go on the dancefloor was finally satisfied when the DJ began playing The 2 Live Crew’s “Hoochie Mama”. The two friends gave each other the all-knowing, pre-ratchetry look before running out and strolling to one of their shared ratchet hymns. Yaa strolled her worries off; her smile widened the happier she got.

At the song’s end, the two laughed their way back to their section.

“Tonight has been too surreal and it’s just...10:19.”, Tanisha commented.

“It’s just 10:19?!”, Yaa whipped her phone out to confirm the time. It was now 10:20. But, there was also a message sent from Winston Duke about 45 minutes ago: “I wanna go into this New Year on a clean slate. Let’s talk over lunch. 1:30? Shoot me a suggestion or three.”

Before Yaa could internalize her ex’s text, she felt a physical presence looming over her. She was spooked by a medium-built, average height,brown-skinned brother with a fade. His black eyes were striking, yet welcoming. They reflected blue from the club lights.

“Dr. Abdullah?”, he inquired loud enough to be heard over the blaring music.

“Speaking?”, she answered back.

“Mr. Gatsby would like to see you now.” Yaa’s stomach nosedived into her back and her palms began to sweat.

“O-ok.”, she stood and began walking with the man.

Yaa was escorted through a door that led into a dark hallway. The hallway was dark except for the light that passed through the four frosted glass doors on either side of the hallway. At the very end of the hallway was a solid wood door. Yaa was let in by the man and was left alone in the modest office.

“Please, have a seat.”, a raspy yet familiar voice suggested. He continued his cell phone conversation. The back of the chair was towards Yaa.

“Yeah...right. Uh huh? Tell Cross I’m not taking an-y-thing less than 140. Oh, of cour—right. Well, my guest has finally arrived. Alright, give Erin my love. Yeah, happy new year to you and yours as well. Buh-bye.” He hung up the phone. “Forgive me and my inconsideration for your presence, Dr. Abdullah. People are really tryna conduct business with folks when there’s maybe two hours left in 2014. Damn, shame.”, he said reaching for the chilled bottle of Dom Perignon. Upon hearing his voice, Yaa nearly doubled over from shock; all the clues were coming together. Pit beef sandwiches? The Pit? No wonder everything sounded so familiar. It was Baltimore.

The gentleman finally stood up from out of his chair and sat on the desk, placing the glasses next to him and winking at Yaa. Suave ass negro. “I’m certain you’re surprised to see me.”

Her shoulders bounced as she chuckled to herself. “That, I am, Mr. Gatsby. Ooh, I’m killing Tanisha when I see her.”

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[horrible-on-main]

“Rad?” Lou calls from below, “Ariadne? Sis? Raaa-ad?” She leans her head over the edge and watches him search. He knows her well enough to be looking upwards, but hasn’t spotted her here amongst the girders yet. There’s a lot of places where she could be perched.

“Raaa-ad! Where are you? Ariadne?” “Here,” she calls at last. Annoyed faces are starting to appear at windows, and she doesn’t want his yelling to cause a scene. “Why didn’t you say so?” he complains. “Didn’t want to talk. I’m busy.” The vertical distance is enough that they have to raise their voices to be heard. “Can you come down here, Rad? Please?” “Why don’t you come up here?”

She doesn’t think he’ll be able to. Doesn’t think he’ll even try. But she watches with interest as he squints at the nearby facades, trying to plan a route. There’s an escape ladder not so far off that will get him close, then he could maybe climb using the pipes, if he’s brave enough. She wasn’t thinking about making herself inaccessible when she came up here, she just stopped here because the hymns from the church make nice background noise to work to.

She’s not that surprised that he makes it up the ladder. Anyone can climb one of those, that’s kind of the point. She is surprised that he’s willing to trust his weight to the pipes. She can see him sweating and struggling. With a sigh, she gets up from her books and trots along the girder to where he is. “I got this,” he pants, though he clearly doesn’t. His knuckles are white and his eyes are too wide. Ariadne swings down, fingers finding purchase momentarily on the steel to correct her trajectory before she lands on a gutter-strut just an arm’s length from where Lou is clinging. “Here, wedge a foot between the water and the air - between the big ones. Just shove it right in there, that’s right. Let it slide, you’ll get grip in a sec.” She leans out, taking some of her weight with a hand on the uneven wall-surface, to take his other ankle with her free hand and guide it to a place where the brackets that hold the pipes to the wall provide a foothold. He’s shaking, and she feels a bit bad.

“Can you pull yourself up with your hands? Look, there’s another bracket by your knee, put your left foot there, that’s right. Nearly there now. Move your right foot up. You can trust the pipes, they got you.” “I hate you, Rad,” he pants, but he’s following her instructions. She scrambles up the wall ahead of him. The pipes turn horizontal and she can hook her feet through them and flip upside-down. Lou makes a strangled sound. “Throne, don’t do that! I thought you were falling!” She scoffs. She doesn’t fall. “I’m helping you, dumbo. Here, take my hands.” He weighs more than her. She isn’t totally confident that she can catch him if his feet slip. But her bravado gives him confidence, and soon he is clinging to the horizontal pipes and she is flipping right-side up again and jumping across to the girder. “I can’t jump like that,” he asserts unhappily. “You don’t have to, idjit. I’m gonna give you my hands, you just need to climb.

So somehow, by hook and by crook, she gets her idiot brother up onto the stability of the girder with her. He is pale-faced and sweaty, and seems little comforted by the security of their perch, though it’s plenty wide - more than a foot. “I’m impressed,” she admits. “Well, if putting life and limb in danger is what it takes to get my sister’s company for a few minutes....” His smile turns worried as something occurs to him. “Ah frak, how do we get down?” “We’ll walk along to where it’s easier, you’ll be fine.” “Walk?” he sounds incredulous. She rolls her eyes. “It’s plenty wide, you’ll be fine. We can hold hands if you wanna?” she teases. “Do you need big sis to hold your widdle hands so you don’t fall?” “Aw shuddup.” “You shuddup, crybaby.”

“What are you doing up here anyway?” “Creed,” she sighs. “Gotta memorise five whole passages for tomorrow.” “Seriously? You’re up here studying?” “Yeah, yeah, I’d rather be out on the town but I’ve gotta get this done and I can’t learn text at home with Quin whining all day.” “It’s just Creed, does it really matter?” “Yes,” she snaps, “It’s still points on my total.” “Your points are great already, relax a little. Take it easy for once. Spend some time with Cee and me.” “Why would I want to spend time with you losers?” “Oh yeah, is that why you used to hang on our hems all the time? ‘Oh please Lou,‘” he mocks in a falsetto impression, “’I wanna play too, I wanna play tooo!’” “Can it,” she grumbles. She makes as if to shove him, but he flinches and she thinks better of it. Not up here, she supposes, not with him so wobbly.

“I dunno,” he continues a moment later. “Maybe because we’re being sorted soon and you might never see us again?” “Oh knock it off, doomsayer. You’ll come visit.” “Yeah, I guess. Still, it’s like you don’t even wanna know us anymore.” “I can’t not know you, idjit. We’re not gonna stop being sibs.” “You know what I mean.” “Yeah, well, maybe I just care about my points.” “Your points are fine.” “That’s easy for you to say, Mister I-Don’t-Care-Where-I-Work.” “Oh yeah, because the enforcers are gonna take a bottom-floor bean-counter kid like you, get over yourself.” She is on her feet at once, Creed book held close to her chest. “Did you even read the sorting rules?” she demands, “They do. If I get over two-twenty I get to go where I like.” “Oh yeah, on paper sure. Do you really think they’ll take you though? They must get hundreds of applicants, they’re gonna pick the kids from further up.” “Shut up!” “I just want you to stop dreaming and aim for something that maybe you can reach!” “You have no idea what I can reach,” she snarls, tears in her eyes. “This is why I don’t wanna hang out with you, Lou!” “Why, because I wanna help you?” “Because you’ve never reached for anything in your life and you want me to be lazy like you!” “You can’t cut it, Rad! You’re gonna kill yourself working like this.” “Shut up!” “You’ve gotta sleep sometime!” “Shut up or I’m leaving! I will walk away and leave you up here and you’ll starve!” “I can get down on my own!” “Oh really? Great! That’s just great, because it means I don’t have to stay and listen to your stupid, lazy poison.”

She turns on her heel and runs. “Rad, wait! Rad, wait, come back! I’m sorry!” She doesn’t stop, doesn’t even slow down. “I didn’t mean those things, I didn’t mean to hurt you!” She jumps, arc perfect through the air, lands on a rooftop and keeps running. His voice follows her, but it serves him right. Stupid Lou, always thinking he knows better. He’s never been better than me at anything. She squeezes tears from her eyes and jumps again, tucking the book in close so that she can roll as she lands. Serves him right. He can’t leave fast enough. I don’t ever want to see him again. I don’t. I hate him.

[xxkellsvixen19xx]

Forget Me Not Jim Mason x Reader 50 First Dates AU Pt 1/?

A/N: Not long ago seen an ask on @michael-langdon-appreciation blog by an anon asking for a Jim Mason 50 First Dates fic, I know she is busy and got quite a bit going on so I took on the task. I decided to go not entirely by the 50 First Dates story line there will be parts of it yes but going in a bit of a different direction, this will be multiple parts. Hope you like it anon let me know what you think, as well as my followers feed back is appreciated! 💓

“Hi, l'm Jim Mason maybe you can help me? l'm looking for Y/N any idea where l can find her?” Jim walked through the boat till he made his way downstairs to the cabin, making his way to the door calling out…

“Y/N, Y/N, Y/N Mason?”

She can’t remember yesterday…

When a freak accident on a storm-swept road leaves Y/N with a memory full of holes, she can't remember her own email password, much less how the little pink "positive" on the pregnancy stick got there. She's at a loss to explain what happened, or when ...or with whom. But what the mind forgets, the heart remembers. Still, it’s going to be a long, hard ride to a happily ever-after for two, plus one.

2 months ago...

Jim closed the distance between them and touched their lips together. Soft. Sweet. More intense than any kiss he'd ever given her before. Her breath escaped in a puff as he pulled back, warming his skin.

"Oh. That was nice." Y/N replied softly.

"Hmm, you ready for better than nice?"

She opened her mouth to answer, and he caught her lips separating them. His tongue eased into her mouth, and he tasted her like he’d longed to for months. Sweetness, a touch of cinnamon, but mostly her. This was far better than nice. He dug his fingers into the fabric at her hip to stop from exploring anywhere else. His other hand locked on the truck frame to make sure the only thing he used on her was his mouth.

He wanted to consume her.

Kissing was only the beginning because, oh hell, every nerve in his body had gone on high alert, especially when she curled her hands around his back and stepped against him. One leg on either side of his thigh. Bodies tight together, her warmth enveloping him along with the scent of her perfume. His head spun from even this much contact.

His throat moved as he swallowed. Whispered, “Say it's not crazy. Say this is what you want, even though I'm leaving tomorrow. " I want you,” Y/N confessed. "And it’s not crazy-not completely." She reached behind her and unhooked her bra.

Her bra joined her shirt on the floor, and that was it. Discussion over. Jim had her in his arms; her feet dangling in the air as he carried her down the hall to her bedroom. Their lips connected, the worn fabric of his T-shirt soft against her naked chest. He paused to take off his shoes, and they bounced off a few walls en route. Her legs were wrapped around his hips, her hands traveling over his shoulders and back as she savored finally getting to touch him.

Jim lowered her to the bed and stepped back. He reached over his head to grab his T-shirt, jerking it forward and off his muscular torso. His biceps flexed, chest muscles and chiseled abs clearly visible in the light streaming through the window. She admired the dark dusting of hair on his chest, another dark trail leading down into the jeans that were even now being unbuttoned, unzipped and frantically cast to the floor.

"Get naked," Jim ordered. "I want skin and nothing but skin tonight. I want enough touching to make me crazy for the next months hell even the next years.” She wiggled off her jeans and undies, staring at him in awe. "I'd ask for a picture, but your image is branded on my brain. You're gorgeous, Jim."

Jim traced the edge of her jaw to her neck, kissing his way up to the sensitive spot under her ear. Kisses and caresses, his lips on her torso as his fingers plumped her breast. His tongue tracing circles around her nipple a second before his lips closed over the tip and he sucked. A sharp, aching need shot from his mouth to directly between her legs, and Y/N could no more hold back her groans than fly to the moon.

It wasn't just one thing, it was the complete seduction. His hands on her stomach, sneaking over her belly to tease the folds of her sex. His mouth doing sinfully good things to her breasts. Y/N's heart pounded, her body growing slick as he teased her, fingers on her clit, fingers slipping inside her.

"I’m going to make you come, and this first time? I'm going to watch." Jim hung over her, his face only inches away as his hand worked her, a rapid thrust of his fingers driving her toward a peak faster than expected. His pupils dilated further as she groaned his name, her nails digging into his broad shoulders.

He kissed her breathless then vanished, sliding down her body like a human tornado. More caresses, long slow strokes –he avoided her sex for a moment, and she was glad until the continued touches made her twitch with the desire.

"Hmm, delicious." Jim opened her legs with his shoulders and dropped to tease her folds with his tongue. Gentle at first, then bolder until she was arching up to his mouth, grinding against him as he thrust his tongue deep. As he covered her sensitive clit and sucked, flicking the tip with his tongue until she broke into a million pieces.

She turned into a puddle on the mattress, barely able to focus. He snatched up the condom and covered himself, lowering over her to touch their heated foreheads together.

Jim breathed out slowly as his cock nudged her core. "You ready for me?"

Years ago. Forever. All the words she wanted to say she held back, instead simply nodding.

He slid inside, and she shook, fighting to keep her eyes open so she could add the expression on his face to the whole experience. Bliss mixed with the hunger, and a moan escaped him as she crossed her heels against his lower back. The change of position slipped him deeper so they were all-the-way connected.

Skin to skin, fully engaged as they stared into each other’s eyes. Jim pulled his hips back, and pressure skittered past sensitive nerve endings, making her entire body heat further.

He thrust forward, and again, catching hold of her hip to lift her higher. He pinned her in position as the pressure and tempo increased.

"Sweet Y/N. Oh my God, so good." Jim tilted his hips at the end of each thrust, and she gasped.  

"Okay?" he asked.

"Oh, this is..." She couldn’t breathe to get the words out, but she didn't want him to stop. "Yes, good. So good."

He kissed her, his breath hot on her cheek before he tangled their tongues, thrusting into her mouth in imitation of his cock.

Y/N saw lights sparkling before her eyes when they broke apart to gasp for air. "I’m close. Oh, Jim, how? How can this…?"

"You feel it, Y/N? How good we fit? How fucking good we are together?" He pressed her to the mattress and grabbed her thighs, looming over her and opening her in a whole new way. The changed angle increased the tension, and when he slipped his fingers over her clit, she was lost.

"Jim ..." Y/N shouted his name. She clutched her thighs as he drove in one final time, his cock held deep while her body convulsed around him.

Stars floated past her vision as he shook, his body gone taut-his abdomen, his chest, all the lovely muscles under her exploring fingers.

She closed her eyes, and everything reduced to sensations. To the touch of his lips to her cheek, the added heat as he rolled them to the side. Jim hitched her leg over his waist, rocking his hips gently as his hard-on continued to stretch her.

Y/N opened her eyes to discover his sexy smile waiting for her. That one lock of hair was back over his forehead, and she brushed it away tenderly.

"Hey." Her cheeks flushed with heat.

Jim traced his fingers over her shoulder. "Hey. That was..." His sigh screamed of satisfaction as he met her gaze.

"Trust me, you're nothing short of mind-meltingly sexy, and I want to do that at least a couple more times tonight."

To: Angeleyes@gmail.com

04:07:00 Sunday, September 13

Made it to Redondo Beach. That was a hell of a drive at the start. The storm didn't ease off until I was past Lomita. Held me up enough I didn’t get in until after midnight, so I didn’t want to call and wake you up.

I'll be gone by the time you get this message. Leaving early hours Sunday. I miss you already. I can't wait to get back so I can date you properly. Getting to share Friday night with you was a dream come true, but as hot as the sex was? I want more for us. I mean it. This is something I’ve wanted-you're something I’ve wanted-for a long time.

Baysurfer_jim@hotmail.com

p.s. I love that you used your nickname for an email address

November, Palos Verdes…

Y/N slapped her palm against the door to her small house, slamming it shut behind her. The door reopened not two seconds later. "Will you stop running away from me?" Medina demanded. "I asked a question."

"I don’t know the answer, okay? And it's pissing me off," Y/N snapped. "Oh." Medina sighed, kicking off her shoes before easing herself onto the back of the couch. She planted her feet on the seat cushion and nodded sadly. "Another of your memory gaps?"

Y/N glared over her shoulder as she draped her jacket on a wall coat hook. "Memory gaps. Such small words for such a huge, fucking nuisance."

"Hey, stop being so rough on yourself. The doctors said things should come back. Sometime."

Sometime was another not very reassuring word. Y/N stomped across the room to stand with folded arms, glaring at her friend. “Medina, I still haven't figured out the passwords to my computer. You had to help me pay my bills so my power didn’t get cut off. I'm relearning how to do the data entry at the office, which means I’m basically a freeloader with my own friend."

“I don't mind. None of us mind." Medina shook her head. “Please, stop beating yourself up. Stop acting as if, since your car wasn't totaled, you don't have the right to be injured. A few obstacles are worth dealing with until you’re back up to speed."

Obstacles. Fah. Another word that was as bad as memory gaps.

There might be holes in her memory, and lingering frustrations, but there were a lot of good things in her life. Between Medina  and her family, somehow she’d get through this rough patch, and make it out the other side.

Of course, thirty seconds later she was running to the bathroom to throw up, which erased a good portion of her optimism. It was tough to stay positive while bowing in front of the porcelain throne.

HE HADN'T EXACTLY SPED the whole way home.

Jim was sure there were a few sections of highway where he'd briefly slowed to the speed limit. When there were too many cars for him to dodge.

Since the plane dropped him off at six a.m., he'd been going nonstop. Pretty much like he'd been going for the previous two months. Working like a madman before falling exhausted into bed for a few hours to get up and do it all over again.

The good part was the blistering pace kept him from obsessing about Y/N before falling asleep. It did nothing to stop the dirty dreams that invaded his brain and had him waking with more than simple morning wood.

He wanted to see Y/N.

Driving with one hand, he used the other to check his mail. There were a mess of texts and emails in his inbox, most of it spam, but none from her. The message he'd sent to Medina moments before leaving had bounced back as well with a Message undeliverable. Recipient's mailbox is full. Fatal daemon error.

Curses drifted through his brain. He punched in Y/N's number only to have the phone die on him, the battery dead. Fine. It was more important to be there and do the next thing in person anyway.

Like sweep Y/N up in his arms and kiss her senseless.

The entire drive he daydreamed about where he’d find her. Timing-wise she should be at home, so he ignored his own place, and the garage, and took the back loop. The sight of her car in the drive made his heart leap, and he parked in the second free space in a rush, damn near leaping from the truck. Somehow he forced his feet to a walk instead of rushing her front door and bursting in like a maniac.

He rang the doorbell.

Knocked.

Rang again.

It might be rude, but he even leaned over and peered in the window, to see if she was around. A pair of shoes lay haphazardly under the hall coat rack, a small puddle of water pooled under the soles. Her coat was there-only no sign of her. He moved to knock a second time but was interrupted by Y/N's less-than-ladylike cussing. Jim  tried the front door, and it opened easily.

“Y/N? You here?" Both feet still on the outside stoop, he stuck his head around the door frame to make himself heard.

A new set of sounds greeted him, less amusing than the curses. Retching and coughing, and Jim couldn't stand it any longer. He stormed forward and headed toward the bathroom.

“Angel eyes, you okay?"

She was seated on the floor, her cheek resting on one arm as she basically clung to the toilet. Her eyes were closed, and her face twisted in a grimace as she shuddered then leaned forward and spat.

"Oh hell, you got a stomach bug?"

Or that’s what Jim intended to say. He got out the oh hell part before Y/N's eyes flew open and her gaze landed on him, all traces of nausea and exhaustion vanishing as she opened her mouth and screamed. She scrambled to her feet, hands flailing, a riot of noise and motion.

Damn.

He held out a hand toward her. “Y/N, hey, it’s okay. It's me, Jim." He ducked away from the toilet plunger she'd swung like a sword. At the same time he examined her quickly-noting her pale skin. The dark shadows under her eyes.

The business end of the plunger wavered in front of him as he took in her extremely short-cropped hair, the H/C strands that usually would have covered her shoulders only about an inch long over her entire head. It was a radical change from before. Kinda cute, really, but unexpected.

"Jim?" She squinted, her head tilting to the side and making her rather adorable. Well, adorable if she weren’t still threatening him with a toilet cleaner.

He took hold of the handle and tugged the shaft from her fingers, putting the weapon back in its place. "Yes, Jim."

"I don’t remember this at all," she muttered. "You're not you."

He laughed, and then caught her as she swayed. "And you must be running a fever or something."

She squirmed out of his arms and backed away slowly. "No fever. My stomach's upset. Feels better now." She looked him up and down quickly. Utter dread joined the disappointment in his gut.

He headed back to the living room, pausing to remove his boots and wipe up water from rain he'd tracked in during his mad rush to help her. That’s when he noticed there were other changes in her house since September. A lot more stuff for one thing. Fabric and paintbrushes in the hall, a stack of clothes draped over a chair in the kitchen besides a sewing machine. He had to move aside a pile of what looked like jigsaw puzzle pieces before he could sit on the couch.

Jim rose to his feet as she approached a few minutes later. "Better?" She waved away his concern. "Fine. Just a touch off for a few days." He couldn't wait any longer, closing the distance between them. If she was sick, that eliminated a too-personal welcome home, but that was okay. They'd leapt in at the start. Now he could go a little slower. Care for her. Take his time to make sure they had a solid foundation. He caressed the peach-fuzz softness just above her ear, stroking gently. "I like your hair."

Y/N touched her head self-consciously. "It’s okay. It's grown a lot since the accident." The bottom fell out of his stomach. "Accident? What accident?" She snorted before jerking to a stop, the golden flecks in her E/C eyes flashing at him in the light. "You're serious. You didn't know I went into the ditch?"

He grabbed her hands tight. "I had no idea. Y/N stared at their joined hands, her mouth hanging slightly open. "Umm, Jim. It's okay. I mean it happened two months ago." Her unease increased, and her body grew stiffer. Instead of curling up against him like he'd hoped, she withdrew, and the whole situation grew more awkward by the minute.

When she pulled her hands free, he let her go. Let her increase the distance between them. She was leaning on the wall opposite him now, a good five feet between them. Jim felt wrapped in cotton. "So...how do we get from your great ditch driving to your hair being cut off?"

Y/N took an enormous breath and let it out slowly. "They told me I bumped my head. Hard enough they shaved my hair off so they could attach test thingies.  After a week's testing when nothing showed up on their machines, they told me I was fine."

Jim was the one frowning now, his entire body tensing as he slipped the clues together. "You keep saying ‘they told me'. You don't remember the accident?"

She shook her head, frustration obviously rising. "I don’t remember the accident, plus there are a few other gaps. I lost a ton of long-term memory as it relates to math-passwords, formulas and things like that. So it’s nice you sent me an email, but I never got it. I had to set up a new email account because I couldn't get into the old one."

His jaw had to be hanging open, and his feet were pinned in place now, hands dangling uselessly by his sides. Y/N had lost her memory?

Had she forgotten them? If so, she'd have forgotten what they'd done. What they'd planned. It would explain so much in terms of her discomfort with him-more than only nerves at having him back around after a long break.

He forced himself to speak even though his mouth had gone totally dry. "So...this amnesia. How extensive is it?"

Y/N shrugged. "A couple weeks before the bump are fuzzy or gone-I'm not sure now what are real memories and what are things I've been told."

"A couple ..."

It was true. In one swoop their future was rearranged. He wasn't  about to pick her up caveman-like and tell her that they were another thing she'd forgotten.  Not when she was still fighting frustration along with whatever else had her at less than one hundred percent physical health at the moment. He also had no intention of letting her get away. The dilemma of how to move forward threw him into a tailspin.

As out of control as a car skidding into a ditch.

Credit to @carolthors formally Skyofsong

[tabootheunicorn]

You, Me and The Duke (part 3) (Sinclaire x mc)

You, Me and The Duke (part 3) (Sinclaire x mc)

A/N- Oof I went from taking a month to get a chapter rout to taking two hours. Sorry, I just have to get it off my chest I didn't really look back through so sorry if it's bad! honestly did not think it was going this way when I wrote it but oh well. haha, I,m already working on part four doubt it will be out tonight though maybe tomorrow maybe in a month who knows...

Pairing- Sinclaire x mc

Rating-PG 13

Word count- about 1200

summary: lady Samantha travels back to where it all started... what will she do now she is all alone. will she survive been all alone again or will a certain maid come to find her?

through the tears Lady Samantha saw a familiar path, she was taking herself to Grovershire. the events of the past few hours played back through her mind over and over just a few months ago she was a nobody, she was just a young girl destined to be a maid or a farmers wife. now, she was a heiress she lived on a vast estate and she now has the attention of many suitors including a duke and a rather handsome country squire.

The Majestic Black stallion thundered down the road putting a good distance between the Duke and herself. Grovershire was the logical choice as she already had property there and she knows the duke had no clue where she was from due to his lack of care however Mr. Sinclaire knows more about her past than most people and perhaps she was secretly hoping that a certain gentleman would come to find her.

A few hours later she came to a stop in front of her old cottage. Sighing, she dismounted from Mr. Sinclaire's stallion who she had nicknamed "Crazy Eyes" due to having one smaller eye giving him that crazy look. she had taken off his tack and left him in the pasture before stepping foot into the cottage.

"it looks the same" lady Samantha muttered to herself.

Hmm, maybe it would have been a good idea to just stay here my life was so much more simple when I was just a nobody. when they were no dukes to avoid or noble-folk to impress. when I didn't have to fight off my evil step-mother when I didn't have to learn to become an accomplished lady. she thought to herself.

she sighed as she locked the door to the small cottage and walked into her cramped bedroom. she slipped out of her dress and put on one of her old gowns: a simple white country dress suited more for work than class.

"I knew I would find you here!"

Samantha jumped at the voice and quickly spun around to see who was ever so rudely intruding.

"briar?!" she sputtered at her friend "but how did you get in I locked the door?"

"I climbed in the window Duh. I couldn't just leave you alone in Grovershire I would have got here quicker but you get a head start also your horse was quicker.

"I'm so sorry I left without telling you i... I just had to get out of there and then I went to see Mr. Sinclaire but they found me so I ran away to here. if there is any way I could make it u--"

"Don't be silly Samantha I totally get that you had to get out of there I was glad to get away from that disgusting old leecher as well. the staff at Edgewater are struggling to keep up with his preposterous demands. oh, poor Mr woods is but a slave now."

Lady Samantha rolled her eyes at the mention of Briar's love life "so you're still Using poor my woods then?"

"What? no! of course not! just because you think that I'm holding on to Mr woods because I'm scared I don't actually have a future with Mr. Malcraster doesn't mean it's true" Briar remarked.

"look I just don't see the spark between you and Mr woods but you and Mr. Malcraster have something special. and don't want you to throw it away. I just care about you ok?"

"I know and I totally get it I just need time to figure it out." briar smiled back at Samantha

"ok then.. if you're sure I won't bring it up again until you figure it out yourself"

"thank you." "anyway... now that you're back to be a simple country girl again you should totally go have some fun. oh! we could go for a walk down by the brook or we should go strawberry picking in the fields or.. or-"

"calm down there don't you think you're getting a little ahead of yourself? I'm only here to hide from the duke the more I go outside the more chance I get recognized and therefore the higher chance of been back within the dukes grasp. Maybe we could do some indoor activities like knitting or baking?"

"fine then be boring. but one of us needs to go outside anyway to get food we can't live off the dust! nobody is going to recognize as a lady you dressed like that. I'll just stay here and clean and get the cottage ready to be lived in again."

"fine then and just so you know your backhanded compliments don't get past me" she smirked at briar and turned towards the door "oh I should be back before dark if I'm not then sending a search party may be a thing to consider."

She unlocked the door and walked out into the brisk evening air, it would be dark in an hour or so so she would have to hurry. She briskly walked to the market and picked out an array of fresh produce that would last the two of them a week or so.

at least money isn't a problem anymore she thought to herself that was one of the perks of been noble at least. lady Samantha was nothing if not generous she made sure to give each man or woman stood behind each stall a hefty tip.  

by the time she was done at the market, the sun had already dipped below the hills and the earth would be swallowed by darkness in a matter of minutes. she picked up her pace and pressed Mr. Sinclaire's pocket watch closer to her heart from where it hung, hooked underneath her simple cloak.

Suddenly, a massive thud sounded behind her. she spun around to see an older man grinning at her like the Cheshire cat.

"um hello!" She Squeaked.

"Why aren't you a beauty. Why missy. you look so scared I don't mean any harm just a simple man trying to make an honest living. wait... I recognize you you're that lady of Edgewater everyone has been going on about, aren't you? Hand over anything of value and I might spare your life."

"wait no get away from me!" lady Samantha shrieked.

she turned on her heel and tried to run but the bigger and stronger man grabbed her by the hair and pulled her back

"so you wanna do this the hard way then?"  the brute ripped off her cloak and with it went her ridicule with all of her money in and most importantly, Mr. Sinclaire's pocket watch. the man shoved her down to the ground and grinned at her while examining his loot

"that wasn't so hard was it?" he smirked again before running off with that last bit of Mr. Sinclaire she had a hold of.

Tags list (tell me if you would like to be added!) @the-writerly-night-owl @melodyofgraves @briarsunicorn​

[lifeasitis21]

For The Last Time

“Lighthouse”

Clark x Reader

You were so tired of spiraling. Getting back to what made you feel okay was the only thing you could think to do. And your opportunity to do so had been closing for a long time now. You just prayed it hadn’t disappeared just yet.

“Clark, it’s Y/n. Call me back. I need to talk—uh, in person is better. Please get back to me.”

If there was one thing that irked you about him, it was the fact that when he knew you were safe, he never answered his phone. Whether he ignored It or didn’t see it, you weren’t sure.

You had just gotten to the point where you couldn’t twiddle your thumbs any longer when he returned your call.

“Hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t hear my phone. I—well Sacha turned it on silent in our last meeting. But then she never turned it back on!” he scoffed. “I’ve been missing calls for days now.”

“—Clark. I need to see you. Are you at your apartment? I’m coming over.”

“Yeah I’m—here..”

You barley heard his last words before you hung up and went down to your car.

You took the stairs to his floor two at a time. Your heart was beating so quick. And you noticed because it was the first time you really felt it in a long time.

You skipped the knocking and went straight for the key he hid on the ledge of the door. A click of the lock and you were in.

“Clark, It’s—me.”

He was standing  at the corner of his hallway. As you walked in he turned his attention to you while your eyes fell on Louis, who was sitting on his couch with a drink in her hand.

“Shit—Sorry I didn’t mean to interrupt,” you started.

“No, it’s not a problem at all. It’s good to see you again Agent Calloway.” She rolled out a lazy smile as she spoke.

“Likewise,”

Clark had kept his eyes down as you spoke to Louis, but when you looked over at him, he had trouble meeting your eyes.

“But like I said, it can’t wait.” You finished.

Clark took that cue and followed you out the door. You considered the hallway for a moment, but with a reporter only a few feet away, you stayed quiet until you got to the roof.

“…It’s only work related,” he seemed to confess.

“Clark..what? I don’t care. Poppy Flowers!”

And that didn’t register even a little bit with him. The look of exhilaration in your eyes, however, well..it turned him on.

He knew his window of speaking was closing and closing fast. And from your perspective, he was just staring at you with his brow raised and his arms frozen in their place across his chest.

“…Come again?”

A shadow of a smile pulled at your lips but you pushed it away, “Clark the painting. Does your guy still have the location?”

“Oh! Oh the painting. Yes…yes it hasn’t moved. I told him to keep tabs on it. Same owner same city.”

“Perfect! Because I found him.”

“…wait you what? You—”

“I found him! I found him Clark. He’s in Rio, Vitor Gabriel.”

You were nearly bouncing with excitement, before he stopped you.

“Y/n what? I already told you that.”

“No, Oh my god. Clark, I found him as in, I have eyes on him right now, and my source says he’s relocating the painting tomorrow. I mean, we’ve got to jump on this.”

Parts of him were a little behind, but it seemed that every ounce of confusion he had, brought you a few inches closer to him. Like coming closer, and speaking slower would help him catch up. The problem was that all those little things were intoxicating. As you spoke he savored the pout in your lips. And when you moved in closer, he watched the once morning flecks of gold in your eyes take on a dark and sultry air. Every fiber of his being was praying you could and couldn’t read his mind, all at the same time.

There were a thousand questions he should have asked, a thousand opportunities for doubt, but not a single word left his mouth as he watched you.

“I know this is last minute, and you have a life. But I think I need this—I know, I need this.”

He couldn’t even bring himself to stop in time before his hand trailed over the curve of your jaw. Don’t let it go too far, he prayed, as he unapologetically let his eyes follow the lines of your lips.

“I’ll go anywhere, Y/n.”

He pulled his hand away then, and walked past you as if it hadn’t happened. You followed, because regardless of Clark, there was something bigger pulling at you. Something you had to do.

He told you he needed to grab his go bag from inside, you opted to wait in the hall. Arms crossed and settled against the wall, you waited.

It wasn’t long before Louis walked out with her bag in hand.

She watched you, for a moment, searching your eyes, taking in the entirety of it all. You thought for a moment she too would reach out and touch you, as if it were the only way to really see you.

“I hope you find what you’re looking for, Agent Calloway,”

She began to walk away, behind her you heard Clarks footsteps, but while still in earshot, she said, “because he already has.”

There was no longer a team-- a mission. Just you and Clark.  This was completely off grid. And you wanted it to stay that way. It meant you would have to find your own way to Rio, but in your time spent solo, you’d acquired an expansive list of sources, one of which was a pilot and owed you a favor.

The plan was simple really, you could have done it alone, but with something as valuable as the Poppies, you couldn’t risk messing it up. Your source still had eyes on Gabriel, but you would be cutting it close on arrival.

“There’s a stopping point in the middle of their route, mostly too insure they don’t have any tails, re-check the integrity of the painting. He’ll be transporting the painting in a specially made case. It keeps it the correct temperature—keeps it from getting bent or touched.”

“So do we need to figure out a way to get it out then?” He asked, glancing from you then back to files you had sprawled out on your tray table.

“No, we need to take it as is. No point in taking it if we fuck it up.” You smirked.

His eyes caught even the first hint of it.

“I’m assuming its pretty heavy then. So how do you, want to carry it out?”

You considered his question for only a second before you frowned and looked over at him, “You carry it.”

He laughed as you blurted it out. “I didn’t want to assume, is all.”

This was going to be exponentially easier than it ever had been. Of course it’s like a gold mine finding out there’s only limited security on the painting as to not draw any unnecessary attention, but with Clark, it should be a breeze.

As soon as you hit the ground your source sent you the coordinates. They came in just as you started to drive off. It was business from here on out. But you would be lying if you said you didn’t feel more alive now than you ever had before.

“500 yards out. Take this alley coming up on your left. It’ll put you right behind them at the end of it.”

You’d factored in the traffic, you knew it would be crowded, but you only hoped their halfway place was secluded enough to account for the fire fight that was sure to come.

“300 yards.”

As you approached the end of the alley you saw what had to be their convoy. Two SUV’s sped by the entrance of the alley just as you were about to pull out behind them.

“They’re going to realize their being followed any minute now. We have to act first,” you said, looking to him for a suggestion.

“Halfway point is at the end of this street…so I say we go now.”

Your heart jumped as he said it, you looked over at him one more time. He kept his eyes on you, countless words behind them. “You ready?”

“I’m right behind you.”

You slammed your foot down onto the gas and held tight as you accelerated directly towards the back of the van.

Just seconds after impact, the car  began to lose its back tire traction and as you pushed the back end, the front turned and then toppled over itself. One, two, then three flips. The sound of metal and glass crashing hard against the concrete.

You halted to a stop just before the vehicle, the first, as you had guessed, was stopped just in front.

It was now or never. You threw your door open and watched for the first sign of movement.

Shouting from your right, you turned just as Clark fired two shots.

That’s when bullets began to rain down; flying past you as you ran for cover behind the car across the street.

They were prepared for this, but so were you.

With no restraint you stood and leaped over the front of the car, gun in hand and at a sprint you started shooting at every body with a gun. It was as if you were invisible, every one of their bullets missing its target. The closer you got, the sooner you realized everything you’d been missing.

You took a running jump and your heel collided hard with the guards jaw. It sent him flying back into the street. There was an unspoken law that this was no longer a gun fight as you pounded his face hard against the ground.

The next was upon you in seconds, a right hook grazed your cheek but he wasn’t ready for the knee you slammed into his stomach. He doubled over for a second, but a second was all you needed before your knee flew back up and crunched into his face.

Clark was beside you now as two more men came running for you. From there on out it was like a dance between just the two of you. The entire world disappeared. He would rise up, you would fall low. Back to back you fought it all off. Instinctively you knew each other.

You blocked off blow after blow of the guard in front of you, but to your left Gabriel was encroaching. You needed to finish this now. Falling wasn’t an option. You tried a left hook but it dragged, in the moment of hesitation though, you swung your elbow into his temple. But as you had begun to swing, you saw a hard fist closing in at the corner of your eye.

Your man fell and you braced yourself, but the one you thought was coming, was now 10 feet up, flying through the air.

“You good?” Clark asked breathlessly.

You nodded, awestruck for the first time as you watched him. “We need to move out,” you managed.

Clark jogged over to the wreckage as you kept an eye out.

The painting was just where you said it’d be. It was encased in blacked out glass and it stalled him, but there was no time, he had to just trust it would be in there.

“Let’s move.” He called out to you.

You hopped back into the drivers seat and headed towards your escape route. About a mile and a half away you spotted a second convoy approaching the crash quickly, but by the time they got there, you and Clark were long gone.

[thisideofthegalaxy]

until tomorrow

for @rebelcaptainprompts, distraction | 1582 words | explicit- below or [Ao3]

“Come here,” he says softly, there’s a coarseness to his voice that Jyn can never quite place. They shuffle upright, arms wound and Cassian’s face buried in her neck. Jyn grazes a kiss to his cheek, his scent of ash and rain. She kisses again- this time to the corner of his mouth- feels the twitch of his lips as he smiles.

They’ve been on-base five hours- three since the celebrations started, two since Bodhi coaxes Jyn into a dance. Cassian tries not to glance at her across the hangar, somewhere in between Leia offers a rare, knowing smile. It feels like a win, not just to be back, but to have a night that isn’t squeezed between a bunk, the ‘fresher or another debrief. It feels like a luxury, to see the sun rise and not look for the shadow.

Jyn stumbles on-route to their quarters, grins as her trip nearly takes down Cassian too. She laughs when he lets himself collapse beside her regardless.

Ten and he’ll leave again.

“Alright?” he whispers, they lie giddy and tangled in the corridor.

“Very alright,” Jyn murmurs back, threads her fingers between the spaces of his. She leans her head on his chest, feels the low rise of his inhale, slower as he breathes out. Cassian lifts the clasp of their hands, presses a kiss just below her knuckles. This.

She’s missed this.

“Come here,” he says softly, there’s a coarseness to his voice that Jyn can never quite place. They shuffle upright, arms wound and Cassian’s face buried in her neck. Jyn grazes a kiss to his cheek, his scent of ash and rain. She kisses again- this time to the corner of his mouth- feels the twitch of his lips as he smiles.

Jyn pulls herself to her feet (Cassian holds out both hands to be pulled up too), they steady each other while the hallway rights itself again.

“Solo’s homebrewed ale?” asks Cassian, guilty.

“I would never,” Jyn replies, they’re still grinning as they reach the door.

The codes never change, but Jyn reaches for her belt instead, hooks her thumb behind the buckle and takes out the pin. It’s a practiced gesture that she hasn’t practiced, but she manages to slip the pin into the dataport and hit the safety release on the first go.

“Who taught you that?” Cassian looks-on in astonishment, runs a hand over the scruff at his jaw.

“A high-ranking Captain of the Rebel Alliance, would you believe,” Jyn offers, wry, and Cassian’s eyes crease with chagrin as it comes back to him.

Nearly as much ale that night too.

“He must’ve been trying pretty hard to impress you,” Cassian chuckles, shakes his head.

“And I’m sure it didn’t work one bit,” Jyn returns, tugs him into the room before her cheeks get any warmer, kicks closed the door with her heel.

Cassian hitches a breath, his answer lost as Jyn presses him against the wall. In the dark his mouth flickers a snarl, Jyn stretches up and kisses him like she won’t get another chance. It takes Cassian a second to find his footing, kiss her back. He almost looks wounded as he does, his eyebrows crease and his stare is hard and bright.

And then he reaches, hands scuffed at the small of her spine, hers gritted into the seams of his shirt. Jyn pulls on his buttons- none too gently- drags the fabric over Cassian’s shoulders and prises a low, wanting sound from his throat. His jaw tucks to his collarbone as he cups Jyn’s face in his palms, Jyn lets her teeth linger on his lower lip. She feels his skin prickle as she licks into his mouth, his tongue rough on the edge of hers.

“Take these...” Jyn murmurs, travels his hands to her combat slacks. The room is warm but they’re both trembling, it takes more than one try to unknot the clasp. Cassian nudges his face to her hair when they finally do, Jyn wriggles out of her trousers with his stubble brushing her ear.

“Do you-” asks Cassian, shivers as Jyn teases her nails to the crook of his arm.

“If you-” Jyn answers, her fingers hesitate at the dips of his knuckles.

“‘course I do,” Cassian says roughly, it’s barely a growl but she hears it, her muscles tense and shudder as she leads his hand between her legs. She’s wet- the realisation of it punches the air from his lungs, Jyn’s eyes squeeze closed as she lets out a gasp.

“Fuck, Jyn...” Cassian whispers, jaw clenched as they buckle against the wall. Jyn wants to touch him too, seeks her fingers along the line of his belt. She feels his stomach cinch at the suggestion, the tiny scoop of his bellybutton and the light trail of hair below. For a split-second he bites his lip- an unthinking gesture that makes her mouth hook at the corners- and when her hand crosses below he sucks a breath, sharp, doubles over with an incoherent sound.

“It’s okay?” Jyn falters, Cassian shoots her an incredulous grin.

A little too okay.

Jyn moves again, her own pulse quickening as her thumb glazes sticky, fist taut beneath his trousers. Gentle, she sketches her palm to the base of his cock, feels him strain as her fingers chase up to the swollen ridge. Cassian renders something weak and guttural, his exhale hisses unsteady. Before he can recover Jyn spreads her hand, feels him twitch as she tightens. Cassian lets out a curse, swallows a few more, his fingers waver as Jyn grips firm.

“You’re distracting me-” Cassian breathes a laugh, his eyebrows tip as it turns to a groan. It wasn’t the plan, but his words unfurl a strange excitement at the back of Jyn’s throat. Cassian grits his teeth, his posture sinks clumsily into hers.

She’s so used to seeing him in control.

“Mmhm- fuck, oh-hh-”

His syllables snare and thicken, Jyn feels herself contract with the weight of them. Cassian’s palm is damp beneath her briefs, he loses his pace every time he cries out. Jyn makes a sound too- she doesn’t even mean to- and it takes all Cassian’s strength to stay standing when he hears it. Jyn mumbles again and his expression knots, Cassian folds in on himself, panting, he quickly stills her hand with his own. Jyn’s smile pulls crooked at the corner.

“Here-” she whispers, steps a foot backward in the dark. Cassian follows, doesn't quite lift his boots over the bits and pieces they’ve taken off. He’s still holding her as they collapse onto the bunk, Jyn rests her head on his chest when she straddles him.

His heart is beating so fast.

“I love you, Cass,” Jyn murmurs, this time her kiss is soft. She arches her body, her hair falls in a messy curtain around Cassian’s features. His breath skips- she wouldn’t have noticed but for the fact hers has stopped- and in a strange moment of panic Jyn realises she’s said that out loud, to everyone else he’ll always be Cassian.

“I mean-” Jyn’s eyes dart to his mouth, the surprised part of his lips as she scrambles for something to smooth it over.

“No, I-” Cassian starts, there’s something vulnerable there too. He squeezes her hand, doesn’t let go. “You can…”

Call me that?

“...if you’d like.”

He runs his tongue over his teeth, blinks when he glances up. He’s never had a nickname. They both know hers too well.

“Cassian, I’m so-”

“-please don’t be,” Cassian says gently, leans his brow to hers. When her voice strangles he kisses her, tender and needful, his mouth stings hot and wet and hers. He drags a heavy breath.

“I love you too,” he whispers hoarsely, kisses her again. “So much, Jyn. So, so much.”

Jyn feels her balance untether- force her face has crumpled like an idiot- and suddenly Cassian’s smiling too, he leans up, closes her in an embrace. Jyn’s laugh echoes round the bedroom, she snatches a tear on the heel of one hand before he can see.

“Shush,” she says huskily, wrestles him back to the mattress. “You’re distracting me.”

The thread of her smile still lingering, Jyn curves his hand to her jaw, lightly scrapes her teeth over one of Cassian’s fingers. His eyes pop in astonishment, he doesn’t have time to speak before Jyn’s other hand is guiding him toward her, a harsh growl chokes in his windpipe.

Jyn braces her palms on his shoulders, pins him hard against the blankets. She kisses the hollow of his throat, Cassian’s inhale stirs in shorter, desperate sips as Jyn clutches, aching, feels his body clench into hers. Her knees are wedged at either side of his torso, Jyn can feel him shiver with each lunge and pitch, trembling at the cusp of too much. Their eyes meet and he wrenches forward, his brow hits her shoulder and she catches him, fingers caged into his hair.

“Jyn, I-”

“I’m here,” Jyn whispers, a throb of pleasure reels through her core and she seizes, torn and vicious, the surge coils and blurs over the brim. Cassian muffles a shout into her neck, shudders violently, his body wraps shaking into hers.

“Jyn,” he exhales, can’t stop the twitches that needle below his skin. Jyn’s hand is splayed at his chest, curls into his larger one as he hold her close.

“Cass,” Jyn says quietly. His movements halt and tighten, breath snared and his mouth pinched uneven. For a split-second she’s not sure- maybe it sounded better in the heat of things, there might always be words too soft for people like them.

“Yeah-” he whispers roughly, and Jyn realises that isn’t it. He’s just hearing it again, taking it in, saving the moment for when he’s so far from home.

“-I’m here.”

[oselatra]

Little Rock Confidential 2017

Workers tell it like it is.

What is it like to walk a mile in a nurse's shoes as she cares for people in a nursing facility? Or, for that matter, to walk a mile in size 16 heels?

This sixth annual edition of Little Rock Confidential offers up stories, told anonymously to persons on the Arkansas Times staff, by people who know the answer to those questions, as well as the joys and travails of being a bail bondsman, or woman tattoo artist, or woman pastor, or an art teacher to adults with developmental disabilities. Even a member of the General Assembly confides in us.

Art teacher, adult daycare facility

I teach adults with developmental disabilities, so there are varying levels of skill, varying levels of mental capacity, varying levels of, you know, where that person's been that day. Basically, every person comes with a different slate every day. So, one of my biggest challenges is having to be fluid with adults. With children, you can reprimand. You can say, "You know what? I don't like the way you're acting" or "You need to sit down and be quiet." These guys are adults, though, you know? You have to give them a level of freedom. It's not my job to tell them what to do. It's my job to teach them art.

But, you have things that come into play every day — different political views, different factors — and you just have to roll with that, to work with all different types of people to reach the same goal, which is to enjoy art. We have people with very strong ties to religion, or [politics, according] to the way that they were raised (and that being the only way). We have a large amount of Trump supporters who come through our building ... who are just blindly following what is being taught at home. So, at times it's just better for me to bite my tongue and wear my "Nasty Woman" shirt rather than talk about it. You express yourself and show people love in different regards, as opposed to arguing with someone because their mother told them they'd have to stay at home today to watch the entire Trump inauguration on TV. I mean, that happened, and this woman's mom came and got her, because I wouldn't put it on the television. What do you do? You let it go. These battles are very different from children's battles. I mean, there are fights about somebody taking all the crayons, but also, "I'm in love with this person, and they don't love me back." With art, there are feelings and emotions, and you get to express them.

We have a volunteer-led painting program that works with people who are nonambulatory, people who are mentally sound but maybe can't use their hands. They come up with some really dark pieces. Lots of dark browns, lots of reds — really specific choices in abstract paintings. And that person will come up and say, "This is what I'm feeling like today. I've had to move to a different house four times in a year," because they can't find legitimate help for their daily needs. Painting is their expression about not being able to do things for themselves — not even being able to go to the bathroom by themselves. It can get really dark, because the world looks really bleak for them.

These Medicaid [reductions] that are coming down the pipeline would put these people in an absolute shell. It wouldn't provide for them to come here anymore. It wouldn't call this an "emergency." It wouldn't count this as a service that is necessary to them. A 28-year-old male who's in a 9-month-old's headspace — he gets something out of coming here every day. He gets something. He sees colors. He hears music. We've gotten letters from our CEOs — ones that are sent out to these families — saying, "This is what's coming down the pipe. Talk to your representatives. Tell them this is not what you want." So, it's basically then a fight to get the parents and the people supporting people to understand that they need to do whatever they can do to prevent it, and that they will be directly affected. I fight a large amount of my battles against the bureaucracy — basically, our facility doesn't receive any Medicaid money when the students leave, when we clock them out to paint somewhere out in the community, when we take them to a play at The Rep. These are the kind of things that we want them to be able to experience, but if they're not here for a solid eight hours, we don't get billed for them. We get a lot of opposition.

— as told to Stephanie Smittle

Drag queens, Tonya and Kathleen

Kathleen: I got started when I was 23 or 24. I watched "RuPaul's Drag Race"; we marathoned it. I was already interested in women's fashion. The first time I ever dressed in drag, I had a drag birthday party. The girls came as drag teens and the guys as drag queens. We did lip sync.

Tonya: After I saw Kathleen in the "Rocky Horror" show at Sway [a Little Rock nightclub], I saw how inclusive it was. Everybody was willing to help him do as good a job as possible. That encouraged me to do it, too. Before drag was popularized, you had to go to a bar to see it or on YouTube, and then it got mainstreamed on LOGOtv and you could see what went into it. It made me really interested — the artistry, you have to know about hair, makeup, costuming, hip pads ... . When I saw how supportive everyone was, it put me over the edge. I'd been wanting to do it for such a long time, ever since I was 14.

Some do it for free, until you get to a certain point. We want to make money and help the club. Almost any drag queen you'll talk to, you operate in the negative — the costs of the clothes, the wigs, the shoes. But you're able to do something very entertaining, and [later] you can fall back on your investments [in dress].

Kathleen: We have a show tomorrow. I'll get off at 5 o'clock, we're supposed to be there at 10, so I'll have five hours to prepare. I'll go home, shave, shower, relax and then glue down my eyebrows.

Tonya: You take an Elmer's Glue stick or some kind of adhesive and use it to make your brow hairs lie flat, and layer it. Then you cover them up with makeup. The trouble is covering up the color. If you start to sweat, the glue will melt and the eyebrows will pop out.

For men, the skin above the eyelid hangs down a little bit, so we draw on eyebrows higher so we have more space for eye shadow.

Then you get into the foundation and contouring. My cheeks aren't high, so I'll draw a fake hollow that's closer up here and contour my forehead to look smaller.

There's a lot of hair removal; that's the most time-consuming.

Kathleen: In the old days, if you wanted to be a drag queen, you would go to a club to learn to entertain in drag. You would get a mother, who would teach you makeup and styling, who to go to to get readymade outfits. Then when you were established [and achieved mother status], you would adopt a daughter or daughter.

Tonya: It's always a struggle to be innovative and memorable [in your act]. The field is really saturated right now; people will do whatever gimmick no matter how much it puts them in harm's way, no matter how much they have to put away their dignity. There was a girl [at the club] who was flying from the ceiling and did it all with her own gear, she was 25 feet off the ground. She just came in with one of her friends and hooked up to the ceiling. I don't think she even had a contractor come in to test whether the beam was weight-bearing.

There was another one that — I don't 100 percent agree with this — that had an actual knife and carved up a raw chicken on stage that she had put blood in. You've heard of Santeria, right? It was a raw roaster chicken.

Kathleen: And that was an issue itself because of salmonella ...

Tonya: There's a fire-eater we're friends with that wanted to do it in the club but wasn't allowed to, so she did it outside the club.

Kathleen: And one girl did the splits without warming up.

Tonya: And someone I know I think got a mild concussion from falling straight backwards.

We try to do humor. Tomorrow I'm going to do a number inspired by Tonya Harding. I would wear skates but I'm not willing to spend $160 on size 16 figure skates and then hurt myself.

Kathleen: I try to make references to movies. Tomorrow I'm going to be doing a "Serial Mom" number, from the movie with Kathleen Turner, by John Waters.

Tonya: A lot of the acts are sexy. We tend to go toward more comedy, but a lot of people prefer to go down a route of traditional, seductive acts, stripping where you're not actually physically taking off your clothes.

Kathleen: I haven't had anybody be hostile, but there have been times when people don't know drag etiquette — you don't go onstage to tip, you don't grab if a woman is performing and make a pass. It's a legality to keep us separate from a strip club, which has to do with the age of the people who can get in and food.

Tonya: I've gotten ice thrown at me and heckled. It's hard to see who it is because of the spotlight in your eyes. A lot of times it's my friends; they're drunk, and it's in good humor.

We saw a patron of the club getting beat up by her boyfriend outside in the street and we ran out and pulled him off and got her back inside with her friends. As petty and drama-filled as it can be, we do all care for each other.

It's a community of extremes. Everybody can be really supportive and helpful, give you bobby pins and hairspray and eyelash glue, but the second you step out of line — do a bad performance — they are the first to put you on blast.

Kathleen: It's like blasting someone with a laser. Say you texted me something hateful, I would post the text on Facebook, so that something that is private and ugly is now public. If you say one thing in private and another thing publicly, there is a vigilante justice that goes through the community.

Tonya: The reasons people entertain in drag are very individualistic. For some people it's an outlet if they have gender dysphoria; it gives them the ability to dress the way they want to.

Kathleen: Every since I was young, I've always liked women's fashion, pretty dresses, makeup, how they do their hair. I was denied a lot of that, told, "Don't be a sissy." I like to explore my creativity with fashion; with men's fashion, you can't.

Tonya: It's the transformative quality of the art itself. You create a persona and you don't have to be yourself. It's kind of like a confidence issue. I can't make myself look slender, but I can choose the silhouette of my body. It's fun to step away from what's always been normal.

My first time in heels on stage, I wore a dress I made myself out of Chick-fil-A bags. We had to go to so many fast food places to get the bags, and we got a KFC bucket that they didn't want us to have. It took 180 Chick-fil-A bags.

Kathleen: The first [Chick-fil-A], they gave us 10 bags, and said "I don't know what you need this for, but I hope it's for a good cause."

Tonya: The second was at McCain Mall, and they gave us 30 bags. They didn't care.

Kathleen: When we went to the one in front of Lowe's in North Little Rock ...

Tonya: These younger girls, they got so excited. They gave us so many bags. If it hadn't been for them ...

I sang "Fergalicious" by Fergie, about candy and food. It's normal to have a very athletic build — well, not athletic but a toned build, to be lean and strong and skinny in drag, and when you are overweight you get labeled, you're not going to be able to do any athletic tricks. That's the barrier we try to break down. We're not dancers, but we still want to go out there with as much energy as possible. My first time, though, it was my first night in heels and it was miserably hot in front of the spotlights, hot in the club, hot inside a paper dress with a giant bucket headdress ... a full-sized family meal bucket with paper mache drumsticks covered in brown glitter.

Kathleen: They were glued on.

Tonya: And I had a chicken nugget box purse.

Kathleen: The act I'm most remembered for was when we did the "U.S.A. is AOK" and I based the act on the mockumentary "Drop Dead Gorgeous." It's Kirstie Alley and Kirsten Dunst, and they're doing this pageant and the theme is "The U.S.A. is AOK," and they come out with headdresses made of different monuments, and say "I love the U.S.A. because ..."

Tonya: The club is full of conspiracy theorists, it runs rampant, and people are super convinced that the entire situation with 9/11 was a conspiracy, all fake, a fabrication of the Bush administration.

Kathleen: So I came out with the Twin Towers on my head and said, "I'm happy to be living in a country where jet fuel can melt steel beams and an inside job can be covered up to become a national tragedy ... ."

Tonya: The movie was set up to make fun of people's belligerent nationalism. The act was a very nuanced way to be social criticism of the conspiracy that runs rampant in the club.

Kathleen: It was not to make fun of the tragedy itself, but to make fun of the people who don't believe it was a legitimate terror attack. I sang "Don't Cry Out Loud" by Melissa Manchester and had two backup dancers who were dressed in cardboard planes, and when they crashed into me they shot off these glitter pens.

Tonya: We were very ready for damage control.

Kathleen: We had a long talk about it. What makes legitimate social criticism?

Tonya: There are people who have protested [acts], but if you're not pissing anybody off, you're not exciting anyone.

— as told to Leslie Newell Peacock

Woman pastor

Women didn't start coming up for ordination (in any numbers) until the 1970s in my denomination, though it had been allowed since the 1950s. It was the '70s when I encountered the first female pastor I'd ever met. I didn't know it was possible.

The first time I saw a woman pastor I thought, "I don't think I'm going to like this." I had never thought about a woman [pastor] before, it didn't seem right to me. So I can very much relate to how people think it's a weird idea. It was to me at first.

What happened, which is what always happens, is that after I had a chance to experience her as a pastor, I thought, 'What is the big deal? It's not any different. She's just a pastor.' If you have that skepticism, you have to have a personal experience of a woman as a pastor to get over that.

I was ordained in 1984. I think the first churches I served had objections before I came, but apparently they weren't so anti-woman to keep it from happening.

Here's the deal. Every church I've ever served, people who are vehemently against women in the ministry leave before I get there. They're just gone; they find another church. Then there is a sizable number of skeptics, just like I was. It takes about three weeks for them to realize nothing has changed. Church goes on. Services go on. They have to realize how unremarkable it is to have a female pastor.

But you do have people who are not always your fans, especially at first. You have to build trust. It's really important. Some women make the mistake of wanting to come in and change a lot of things. They appear to have an agenda, as far as women's issues go. But the best way to get progress is not to talk about it in the beginning. Standing in the pulpit is enough to say that women matter. Once you have relationships and you've made deposits in the emotional bank account, you can start making withdrawals.

People did come to me occasionally and say they didn't believe in God. You know, there was a guy in the last church I served, a wonderful guy, but he had cancer. He just struggled, telling me, "I know that people believe in Christianity" — he was a long-time church member — "but I just can't believe. I don't have that kind of faith. What am I going to do?" It was impossible to help him be at peace. I finally said, "It doesn't matter. It's OK. You are who you are, you believe what you believe. You don't have to make yourself believe if you don't." I hope that, in the very end, he found peace.

I'm just too liberal, I guess, but I think we should trust our instincts and what makes sense to us. The church to me is a means to an end. It's not an end in itself. It's to help you feel at peace, it's a source of love and comfort and strength, and if you don't find it there maybe you can find it somewhere else. Buddhism is a wonderful source, I think.

The older I get, the less it matters as far as specific religious beliefs. I could never be ordained today.

When I was a kid I used to think about hell a lot, not that it's mentioned much in my denomination. I would think, "There's a God who's going to decide that you've done 57 horrible things in your life so you're going to hell, but here is someone who's done 56 horrible things and they don't?" It just didn't make sense.

A lot of things pushed me to go into the ministry. I'm glad for it, but I could never do it again. I'm just in a different place. When I was a pastor, I believed that I believed, I was not being insincere at all. I wasn't trying to fool anyone.

But over the years [you see] life is so very cruel. This creation is beautiful, but very cruel. Look at the animal kingdom — predator, predator, predator. With humans, too. If there is a creator, why create something that is so absolutely guaranteed to make you suffer?

The TV series "The Young Pope" — a lot of people don't like it, but I think it's great. It made me think about, maybe I just try to make God be benevolent, but maybe God is not benevolent. Maybe I'm just refusing to accept that that is a possibility.

— as told to Leslie Newell Peacock

LPN, long-term care facility

I don't get grossed out. I really don't. Somebody who might have a bad cough — who coughs stuff up out of their lungs — that grosses me out a little, but pretty much nothing else. Our CNAs [Certified Nursing Assistants] are the ones who really bust their asses and take care of the patients. I'm talking about they clean up vomit, they clean up feces, they clean up urine, they clean up — well, people that have tube feedings, those will sometimes leak and they clean that up. They're the ones that get down and dirty, and they're the least paid. I understand how it works — they're also the least educated, but they're the ones who take care of the patients. The nurses give them medicine, perform assessments, communicate with doctors and families. And they do paperwork. Lots and lots of paperwork. But the CNAs check vital signs, make sure the patients have water, make sure they're bathed and clean, that their sheets and blankets are clean and dry. For the ones who can't take care of themselves at all, they keep their mouths clean and perform mouth care. They're the ones who have the nasty job. Imagine that you can't get out of a wheelchair by yourself and you know you have to go to the bathroom, but everyone's busy doing something for someone else right now. And you know, it's dignity smashed to smithereens when they shit on themselves. But it happens.

You get attached to people. On the long-term care side, some of them are there seven or eight years. In our facility right now, we have a lady who's been there nine years. It's hard. A lot of times, there aren't family members left to make medical decisions. It's hard for a niece or a granddaughter or a nephew to make their loved one a DNR, where they're not resuscitated if they go into cardiac arrest. There are people who, if they weren't getting artificially fed and artificially hydrated, they'd have died. They become contracted because they can't have therapy since they don't have Medicare. If they're on Medicaid and in long-term care they give up all their money but $40 a month. The facility they're in is responsible for all their medication and all their food, and the facility is owned by a corporation who's looking at the bottom line. If they make money that year, administrators, admission specialists and the Directors of Nursing get a bonus. So they understaff the facility — it's a horrible thing to see, but there can be people waiting to go to the bathroom — or worse, sitting in their own waste — while a CNA is next door helping someone else.

They need to be looking at acuity — what does it take for a person to be taken care of properly? We do things in our facility that used to be done in a hospital setting. If someone is incontinent and can't move and has to be turned every two hours and they can't lick their own lips or wipe their own face, then someone should be spending maybe 20 minutes with that person four or six times a day. Sometimes that doesn't happen, and bedsores occur. Which makes people irate because there's always an attorney on TV saying, "If your loved one gets a bedsore ... ." It's all a big circus, and it really just depends on how much Medicare or Medicaid is going to pay you for that patient.

I work in a facility where the budget is $5.25 per person per day for food, and it looks like shit on the plate. They give them a bologna sandwich with a piece of cheese and a packet of mayonnaise and a packet of mustard on the side. I mean, it's pitiful what people who don't have money have to do at the end of their lives — probably after working their asses off their whole lives.

I love those little old people. They become almost like your grandparents. For me, that's the way it is. It's not that way for everyone; people that work there get aggravated, and some of the patients are aggravating. There are people there that are 80, 90 years old, who still use the N-word and cuss people who are taking care of them because they're black. That happens. But these people are at the end of their life, and they all deserve to be treated with love and respect. It's a heart-wrenching thing, and it pulls you in every direction.

— as told to Stephanie Smittle

Woman tattoo artist

A woman doing tattoo work is going to have to deal with a lot of dick jokes. A lot of calling women "bitches." It all depends on who you're working for, though. There are some tattoo artists in the community who are super P.C., and some who are not. I've definitely had to deal with a form of sexism that's like, "Oh, I want the girl to tattoo me because she can draw better." Like, favoritism sexism.

Everybody wants a woman tattoo artist at this time, and it kind of makes some of the dudes upset. Right now, I think that a lot of the tattoo artists you see coming out with solid, fresh new ideas are women. For the longest time, we weren't given a shot. We were told what to do. We were told, "You tattoo what's over here. I'll do all the flash. You go through me, and I'll tell you what you can put out." And you know, tattooing as we know it in America only really goes back to wartime. In Eastern cultures, it's definitely much more ancient. So, women have come a long way here in a very short amount of time.

One time this guy came in and asked for a face tattoo of his girlfriend's name. Right across his face. And we were like, "Are you shitting me?" And, I did a dick bouquet for a woman once. Like, a bouquet of ejaculating dicks.

The majority of tattoos I've done have been on women and gay men. I think I've only tattooed two straight men in my entire life, and I am totally cool with that. Women want women tattooers. Maybe they feel more comfortable about it. I don't know. But they don't usually ask for the guys. Biker dudes who come in don't want me to touch 'em. They don't feel like I'm gonna do it justice; I'm not gonna do their rebel flag justice, or I'm not gonna do their reaper right. (Laughs.) And I probably would put a dick in its eyeball or something.

— as told to Stephanie Smittle

A member of the Arkansas General Assembly

I would hope that anybody who runs for office wants to be a public servant. The word politician has earned an unfortunate connotation. A negative connotation.

There are people who show up in Little Rock and you don't necessarily see them do a whole lot. But it is important to remember that legislating is not our sole job. Just because someone doesn't go down there and run a ton of legislation, it doesn't mean they're not working for their constituents back home, it doesn't mean they're not being a thoughtful presence in committee or in their respective chamber. But you do hope that when somebody gets elected to the legislature or any office, they are doing something and not just enjoying the title.

I really genuinely believe [that] it's not nearly as toxic or polarized [here] as it is in our nation's capital right now. There are definitely partisan fights, but those are small in number compared to the number of bills we actually pass. You can have the most right-wing legislator and the most left-wing legislator and they still vote together more than 80 percent of the time. Unfortunately, the partisan issues tend to get more of the attention. You just try to put together as broad a coalition as you can, both politically and geographically: conservative Democrats, moderate Republicans.

We're a relatively small state. In D.C., you fly in, you're there for a couple days or a week. It's my understanding that these days, there's not a lot of commingling between members of opposite parties [in Washington]. In Little Rock, there still is. There's less since the ethics laws passed, because there's not the dinners. It is, I think, one of the interesting unintended consequences that we have started to see members from opposite parties and different parts of the state are socializing less because there isn't somebody actively pulling different groups together to take them out. It's not that we're all too cheap to buy our own dinner. But before that, you did have lobbyists who were strategically pulling people together to try to build relationships. Now, that's really on us, and it doesn't happen quite as often. I wouldn't say it's reason enough to go back to the old days of ethics [rules], but I think it's worth pointing out to people that something like that wasn't all bad. There were positive aspects.

I would think it would be all but impossible to go down for a legislative session and not have any contact with the lobbyists. When you show up as a first-time legislator, you're going to end up working on issues that are outside your area of expertise. You just are. The lobbyists know the issues. They're a great, quick resource. Obviously, they almost always have an angle, something they're trying to push. But in my personal experience, I've never had a lobbyist mislead me or misrepresent anything. I figure that's just because they know that if they do that once, they've probably lost you forever. Even if they don't get your vote now, they might need your vote later. I make it a practice to always ask them: You want this particular piece of legislation. Why would somebody be against it? I make them argue the other side. If they can't or aren't willing to, I'm not willing to trust what they're saying. There's always at least one other side.

I do think that there are legislators who are more influenced by lobbyists than others. I can't think of any lobbyists, though, that I haven't voted with and voted against. I'm not in the pocket of anybody. I think it wouldn't be entirely unfair to say that there have been legislators who were in the pocket of certain lobbyists. That's all I'll say there. But if you're that worried about somebody getting bought by a steak or a hamburger, you should do a better job of finding somebody to run, or you should vote for somebody else.

Is corruption widespread? Given recent events, I don't necessarily want to say that it's not. [Laughs.] It certainly seems to have at least some presence, but I don't think it's to the level you've seen in other states, or in our nation's capital. It's a shame when something like that happens. Every time, it just makes it harder on everybody else. If one politician does it, everyone gets painted with the same brush.

If it wasn't worth it, I wouldn't be doing it. Every job has its frustrations and challenges. It can be tough. Right after the [presidential] election, [my spouse] and I were like, "Ugh, I can't imagine going down to Little Rock." Honestly, there were a couple of days there when I questioned whether I even wanted to. But I looked at our child, and I thought: I can't imagine her growing up, getting old enough to learn about the election, and her asking me: "What did you do then?" I didn't want to have to tell her: "That's when I decided to hang it up."

So, you just keep going. It's more important now to fight than ever. I don't want to make it sound like it's only important for Democrats to fight. I think that it's important for anybody who really cares about our institutions and still believes in the power of government and its ability to do good, and who still believes in civility and democracy. It's important for them to be involved, regardless of where they fall on the political spectrum. We need more people running for office who are interested in governing, and not just being in office.

— as told to David Koon

Bail bondsman

It's different every day. Some hard days, some rough days, some easy days.

Basically, somebody will come in or they'll call and we'll go down to the jail. Or they fill out their paperwork here, pay here, we go down to the jail. Probably five or six a day.

The family waits outside and we go into the back with the inmates.

We sign the book, but we don't pay at the windows. We actually go through the bonding doors. You go through one door, you're in the middle of two doors. You have to wait on them to allow you into the next door.

When you get in, there are like five tables in there. There are chairs in there. It may just be you and two other bondsman. It may be you and 15 people that are getting released. It may be full of inmates. It's not just you and your inmate.

So, they bring the guy out or girl. Whichever one. We fill out our bond. We fill it and bring $20 in. So we pay a jail fee of $20, but it's broke up into different charities. The actual jail only gets like $2 or $3 off it. So they're really not making all this money that everybody thinks that the jail's making off of the bond.

They take it back to the sergeant, to approve the guy or girl to be [bonded out]. Then [the person being bonded out] will go in a room and they'll change out. They'll get their clothes that they went to jail with back. They'll put them on. Then they'll go to the window and get their property back: their phones, keys, wallets, whatever they went into jail with, they'll get that back at that time.

And then, we just wait.

Sometimes there's a long wait over there. It can be four or five hours. But, at the same time, you got to think about what all they've got going on. We're not the only one there. There's other bondsmen there, there's other people there needing things. So you just have to wait that out, too. You can't expect to just be real fast-paced every time. And they may have a code over there. If they have a code over there, we're stuck just like the inmates: We're not getting in or out either.

When they let us out, that's when we go back out with the family. Most of the time it's normal business, but you do have some mamas. It's more the moms that are real upset.

We get 10 percent of the bond and $80 of the state fee. Say it's like a $4,000 bond; it's going to be $480.

That's the easy part. Then it's keeping up with them afterward, staying in contact with them. We gotta call them and let them know their next court date. Make sure they're staying on top of that kind of stuff.

And we tell them when they're back there the stipulations of their bonds. Because that right there's going to let you know if they start arguing with you: "Hey, do you really want to bond this person or do you not?"

Literally, we are babysitting them. It's like teaching a baby to walk. You know, there's a first step where they have their bond hearing, and then they have their plea arrangement, then they have the next step.

They have to call in every week, too. That way we can keep up with them, because if they miss court then we got something to go off of. Like every week they call in you verify their name, phone number and address. A lot of times they'll give you a different number though. They'll call you and give you the number that they bonded out with but yet they're calling from another number.

You know, sometimes you gotta go out there. You go to the addresses. On the application there will be like five or six different addresses and references: their mama, their daddy, brothers, sisters, friends. Whoever. And then you have to go to each address. Or you may have to dig further, pull their public records. We get authorization to pull any kind of records.

You go out there, you surround the house, knock on the door. And sometimes it's easy and sometimes it's hard. They'll hide from you. You have to go in, search the house. Just like something you see on [the television show] "Cops."

There's about eight of us that go. When you get out there you never know. People high on drugs, people drunk. You never know what it's going to be. Maybe a gun lying in that room when you go in. You just never know. It's a day-to-day thing you face.

— as told to Jacob Rosenberg

Little Rock Confidential 2017