#just in case i have to say it - i am not blaming ed's mother for his father's abuse or saying she could have done anything to stop it

[treesofgreen]

Hot take from someone who grew up in an abusive, violent home with a mother that found her own refuge in religion and thought she was saving her children's souls if not their minds and bodies when she was actually holding our heads under water: Ed has been consciously and subconsciously denying his desires his whole life not to please Izzy, or to conform to "Toxic Masculinity", but for his mother.

I think not enough weight is given to just how badly a well-intentioned parent can fuck you up for life, especially when they are the safe one, the better one, the one who is hurting you the least in the moment, the one you feel you need to protect even though you are the child.

Ed's mother tells him earnestly, sincerely, kindly that fine things aren't for them. Aren't for him. God says so. And when someone speaks that way about God? God comes first. Over themselves, over you. And you should know your place, never forget your place. Who are you to argue with god? Who are you to argue with your mother's faith in god even - especially - when you don't believe it yourself? How can you take what consoles her away? How can you ever be free of her faith when it was so important to her and she whispered it to you so sweetly it made itself a home in your bones, entwined with your father's violence?

And you'd love nothing more than to scrape it all out and give into your yearnings but that would be a rejection of your mother, who suffered so much (your own suffering does not matter, then or now - it does, but that's what you tell yourself whenever you think of your mother).

Ed has spent a lifetime locking parts of himself away in a little bitty box because of his childhood trauma. Stede has the key.

[wrinkly-walls]

Let's talk motives

Longass rambling scream (1996) meta post incoming

DISCLAIMER I am not taking into account anything that happens in any of the other sceam movies, because they were made later and I think the whole concept of Roman is not interesting. So to ME Billy and Stu did everything without being prompted. Ok that's all :)

In the first scream motives are important in the way that they aren't. By that I mean that there are three (if I remember correctly) "conversations" about Billy and Stu's motives. There's the first one, which starts by Billy stating that it's much scarier if there's no motive and, funnily enough, ends with him giving his "motive" (in quotations because I wanna talk about that later); there's the "don't you blame the movies!" bit, which I counted because I think that it does discuss motives in a way; and then there's Stu's "peer pressure, I'm far too sensitive". The thing about these three conversations is that they, in my opinion, don't give an answer to the question/accusation of a motive.

Let's start with the first one, that I think is the one that tries to get closer to it. As I said, there's two parts to this: first we have Billy saying that motives make things less scary, mentioning Norman Bates (which is sort of funny because Bates did have a motive -sort of. It depends on what you consider a valid motive, as it relies on mental illnes, something that is not rational (and also almost never happens in real life). I think something similar happens in scream, with the question of what is motive, but whatever. I digress.) and Hannibal Lecter. Almost immediately though, he starts to get into the REAL motive, at least for him: his father's affair with Maureen, and his mother's subsequent abandonment of him. What I think is interesting about this exchange is the elephant in the room. Sid asks "Why did you kill my mother?" and that's exactly what Billy answers. We, and Sid, are left with the question "ok, but why are you doing anything else?" Why did he and Stu kill Casey and Steve, the principal, Tatum, the camaraman (and to our knowdlege at the moment), Randy, Gale, and Dewey?

This question tries to sort of get answered later, with Sid's accusation of "you sick fucks, you've seen one too many movies", but it gets shot down immediately by Billy. He seems angry about it too, gets defensive saying that "movies don't make psychos, movies make psychos more creative!". This is not a wrong statement, however it is curious to me that he, of all people, says it, seen as earlier in the movie he says that "it's all just one big movie", and just minutes ago compared his motive with fictional characters. So him so outwardly denying any influence of movies in his motive is strange. I'll get back to this later.

The last conversation is the most direct one, and also the one that I think gets misinterpreted the most. Sid explicitly asks Stu for his motive, to which he answers "Peer pressure, I'm far too sensitive." This, to me, is clearly a joke. (Why? Well, for starters it simply doesn't make sense on a technical level. Peer pressure implies pressure to do something within a group of peers, to fit in or seem cool. Literally the only other person that was doing the murder was Billy, and that's not enough to be considered "peer pressure". It also doesn't make sense with the Stu we see mere minutes before, who is giggling all throught the kitchen scene and even says that "it was fun". Lastly, the sentence is humourous because there is a tendency to blame every bad act teenagers commit on peer pressure. Stu jokes constantly throught the movie, and even in his blood loss-ed state he was just doing that, making a stupid joke.) Many people seem to take this statement to mean that Billy pressured him into doing the murders, and while that's impossible to confirm or deny based on the little screen time Stu has in the movie, based on the fact thet the statement to me is a joke, I personaly don't think that's the case.

Ok, so that leaves us to the actual motives. So if Billy only gives his motive for killing Maureen, denys movies as a reason, and Stu only makes a joke about it, then why the fuck did they do it?

This is the point where I have to say that I think that, in the writing room, they don't have any. The same way as the writers never decided who did each kill, I don't think they really thought about why the boys did their murder spree, at least conciously. However, I think that autorial intent is not the end all be all, and speculating about fictional characters is fun, so I will be doing it either way.

Let's start with Stu, because I think that his reasons are less complicated. He's the one that I'm the most sure did not have a written reason, mostly because he is not as vital to the story (I'm so sorry for saying this he is literally my favorite character but it is what it is). I think that his "motive" is an aglomeration of different things, the main two being his "crazyness"(not actual crazyness as it is more of a legal term that he probably wouldn't apply for but you get what I mean) and his clear infatuation with Billy.

The first is probably the one with more intent behind it, seeing as the Stu we see in the movie acts in ways that support it (he is a serial killer after all). From the start of the movie we see how insensitive he is about Casey and Steve's killings, making a joke about it ("better liver alone!"). At that point in the movie we know nothing about the character, but that moment does come off as very suspicious even on a first watch, that being the joke of the scene. As we move forward we have the scene at the video store, the obvious scene that spells out who the killers are if you're open to the fact that there's two of them, in which we see how he enjoys messing with Randy, smiling and tugging at his earlobe. This is echoed later in the kitchen scene, in which he seems almost unbelivably happy. He plans to kill two of his friends and his girlfriend, acting compleatly normal towards them before the fact. Going back to the start of the movie, Casey and Steve's murders were very sadistic, both on the prelude (the calls and the "game") and the actual act, both of them being gutted. He also shows no remorse for any of it in the end of the movie, only being worried that his parents are gonna be mad. All of this to say that, even if sometimes the fandom likes to ignore it, he is a huge sadist, and that is most likely the main reason why he did the murders. In Casey's murder he also had the fact that she broke up with him, something he lied about, so we can deduce that the situation hurt his ego. The disproportionate reaction to it (murder) just comes to show how little regard he has for other people.

The second part of that I don't think was intentional. If I'm not mistaken Kevin Williamson spoke about it on an interview, stating that he, as a gay man, mostly subconciously put the queer subtext on Billy and Stu's relationship. However, subcouncious or not, it is in the movie (I actually want to make another stupidly long meta post about it), and it's what makes Stu as a character make sense to me. Whatever you think about what their dynamic is like, what is obvious is that this, the murders, are mostly for Billy. It is Billy who has the "motive", it is Billy's girlfriend they are tormenting, and it is Billy who moves the plot forward when he feels like it. All the while Stu seems more than happy to comply, going behind Randy at the video store, trapping Sid at the end of act three, giving Billy the knife whith a bow, going behind him and looking at him. I think that no matter what happened Stu would've become a killer later on, because as I've established he is a sadist, but the reason why he is doing this murders specifically is because of Billy.

Which leads me to Billy. What was going on with him? Honestly, I'm not compleately sure. To him, what happened with Maureen and the '96 spree are inextrincably linked, but I think everyone can see that there's actually not a real connection. Sid is not her mother, so Billy has no "logical" reason to torture her. My guess is a mix of jealousy, hatred/annoyance toward her and the others, the feeling of control, and well, sadisim. The jealousy aspect is pretty straightfoward: in his mind, it is her mother's fault that his mother left, so it is unfair that he has to be without her while she gets to have a mother. Seeing as he's he boyfriend he probably has to see that all the time too, and he most likely can't handle that (we see in the third act that he doesn't handle things not going his way very well). That leads to the control aspect: we have no way of knowing how he was before his mother left, but from what we see, I think that the murders were his way of taking back control after his mom left. He says in the movie that movies don't make psychos, that they make psychos more creative, and I think that the way it translates is in how he decided to take that control back. Of all of the things he could've done, he cose to make "a movie", except in real life. With acts and plot beats, and even a twist. Just murder probably wasn't enough for him, he needed to make something out of it, and what better victim than Sidney, Maureen's daughter. He seems to relish on the fact that he is the one in control of her situation ("you can't pick your genre"). Also, unlike Stu, he seems to actively dislike the friend group he's in, having a sort of disgusted face in the fountain scene, and clearly having a bad relationship with Tatum. He was most likely looking forward to getting rid of them, and exiting the situation as a survivor. Then there's also the thing that killing people definitely turns him on. I've seen a lot of people joke about the "I was watching The Exorcist and it made me think of you" line, making fun of the weird sentiment that watching "The Exorcist" might turn him on, and while I won't deny the jokes are funny, what some people seem to miss is that well, he wasn't watching The Exorcist. He was killing Casey and Steve with Stu. To me it's telling that both times we see him make out/have sex with Sid it's after it's implied he has just killed someone, first Casey/Steve and then Tatum (there's debate about who killed her, but I think that it being Billy just makes more sense time wise and also I don't know how else to explain the eyebrow bounce when he gets to the party). I think that this is something that defilitely affected his motive, and in real life many killers just got off on it (I also want to expand on this in a Stuilly post because there's Implications).

I also think that something else to be taken into account is that these are two white rich teenage boys. The way that they did it has a very strong entitlement air to it. They definitely think that they can get away with anything.

Both Kevin Williamson and Neve Capmbell have talked about their queer implications and how that might've affected their motive, and while I do want to touch on it in my incoming Stuilly Post, I don't think it was as relevant as some might think, or at least not in the way most people think.

In conclusion, Stu did it cause he's crazy and gay and Billy did it cause he's both a control freak and a freak. :)

If you have any thoughts about this PLEASE share them I really want to talk about it (as you can see)

I just wrote two thousand words about this please send help

[heartfeltletters-written]

Her afternoon had been filled with body tremors.

I honestly love the little details you have put about Violet's EDS. It's so interesting yet painful to read how it is not just the people she loves but also her own body which is betraying her.

There would be questions if the whole second-year floor was able to hear her scream every time she fell asleep.

I wish we could see more of Violet's emotions in canon. You have perfectly portrayed the what ifs I wanted with your words. Kudos to you!

Navarre would keep lying, and the rebellion would keep acting under the radar, never having enough riders to make a difference because they were too scared to cause a scene, to stir rebellion from the inside.

I was honestly concerned how Violet could not see the parallels. Just because the rebellion wanted to fight against the venin and end it for good did not mean their approach was correct.

“Power is a ladder, trust yourself only, watch your back. Riders fight, and soon you’ll be flying for the good of the continent.” had been the Princess’ words in Morraine.

There is NO WAY she does not know. I'm sure she knows about the rebellion too to some extend. But if she does not, does it mean there would be a civil unrest because of the people in the wards who do know?

It was baffling how no one in the rebellion saw they were doomed to fail due to their pride and fear.

I honestly don't know how the Assembly members reached their current positions. Turns out people throughout the continent have the same arrogance issues 🤣 🤣

Who shows such sense of ownership and belonging in public and yet every truth has to be ripped out of them by force? Xaden, apparently.

He does not know how to be in a relationship, apparently. I'd love to see him grovel in your book now.

That’s when both she and Alys started to learn how to master the art of manipulation.

This sentence somehow made me see the resemblance between Lilith and Xaden. Both of them would do anything to protect their loved ones (In Lilith's case her kids and in Xaden's it's Violet). They honestly don't know how a healthy relationship works. We readers often say that we can excuse murder but not cheating, but we cannot actually do that. Lilith here got the rebels killed, made the bargain with Xaden and did much more cruel things just to keep her children safe. Xaden would do the same thing if it comes to Violet.

He had blamed Violet for their behavior because a member of the Royal Family could never have thoughts of their own when it came to controversial matters.

I'd love to have a friendly conversation with Tauri. Just for a few minutes please 😀🔪

“You don’t need me to be an open book. We’re allowed to have boundaries. If you want to know something you only need to start asking.”

But then what's the point if she does not even know the basics about you 😭😭

Then Rhi’s face softened. “But also terribly tired, are you sure you want to go? We can just cuddle in your bed and cry to sleep.”

Rhi is that ride or die friend every Violet needs and I'm hear for it.

“Fight harder then.” A pause. “Two can play this game Xaden, If you want me to ask about things I’ll make you the same rule.”

I WAS SO LOOKING FORWARD TO THIS! IM SO HAPPY YOU DID THIS! HE NEEDS A TASTE OF HIS OWN MEDICINE!

“Do be careful who you share your war stories with, Violet. I’d hate to see your mother lose either of her daughters.”

Him threatening Mira had me on my last nerve. Can I have 5 minutes with him too? Please 🔫😀

“Secrets make for poor leverage. They die with the people who keep them.”

Oh I am SO ready for him to die now

Ok so this post is extremely long.

Just ending this with the fact that you're doing an awesome job and this chapter was splendid. I'd love you to explore more dynamic about Alys and Violet and love to see more of Mira. I honestly miss her so much, even in canon. Keep up the excellent work!!

I'm gonna start crying in about 3 seconds, what a lovely comment !! thank you so much <3

Portraying Violet's EDS in a realistic way is very important to me, I don't want to get it wrong and diminish people who have these kinds of issues with their own bodies, so I try to be really mindful of her pain.

Listen the Assembly in Aretia is dumb and it baffles me how no one states the obvious in canon.

civil unrest will happen one way or another, but if people know and decide to act ... it'll get ugly and I can't give much much away without spoiling but yeah

Xaden will grovel don't worry !!

Xaden and Lilith are soooo alike !! i love writing them both bc none of them are good people exactly but they're not terrible either. they do bad actions but its all bc they think its 1) the right thing to do or 2) to protect the people they love

Tauri is a king and a king will always be a king and act superior to everyone else

Rhi and Violet are very very special to me they're it !!

No one threatens Mira on my watch, we'll see more of her soon, Alys did make a promise to Violet after all. I'm so amazed that people like Alys so much it makes me really happy !!!

thank you so so much for this comment and pls don't feel shy I welcome them every time <3

[casspurrjoybell-17]

HEART'S DESIRE - CHAPTER 30

*Warning: Adult Content*   

"You okay, Kit?" Montreal Hunter asks, setting a gentle hand on his back.

Kit Montaine looks around, drinking in the scene that surrounds them but it is not fear that makes him shiver.

It is wonder. 

They are gathered in a small clearing at the edge of the woods, beneath the spreading boughs of a solitary tree. 

With the moon in hiding, only the shimmer of summer stars softens the blackness of the sky and many lanterns and candles keep the dark at bay. 

The lanterns are little globes of colored paper and hang from the branches of the tree. 

Dane’s Mate, Julian Hart has worked some Fae magic, too and tiny firefly sparkles light the air, while the songs of crickets in the meadows and frogs in a nearby streams lend a quiet, wild music to the night. 

Beneath the tree, four long tables are arranged in a square, laden with a feast that awaits the alphas' return. 

Hot dishes rest in heated pans, while ice keeps chilled things cold and fresh. 

Everyone contributed something, even Monty and Kit had made a peach cobbler that Monty said his grand-mama taught him to make. 

Besides that, there's Sasha's crispy fried chicken ‘and tofu for Monty’ and buttermilk biscuits from Monty's mother, corn on the cob and fresh fruit salad from Martin's family, spicy gumbo from Freya and something called 'beignets' which were like square doughnuts topped with powdered sugar, from the mysterious Darius L'Amour. 

There was grilled salmon and rice from Noah and his Dragon/Mate, Ambrose Thorne and a watercress salad that Julian made.

 At least it's not waffles, he had said. Even Kit’s cousin Ophelia is here, with her baby, Kitka and her human/husband, Ed. 

They'd brought a coleslaw and kebabs with fresh garden vegetables and aromatic sausages. 

In all, the combined scents makes Kit’s stomach ache with hunger, while the peaceful gathering itself has him in awe.

"Yes, I am well," Kit says, answering Monty's question at last. 

"It is only that I have never seen an Ascendance ceremony before."

"How do the Mortaines transfer power, then?" he asks.

Ophelia, who shares a blanket with Kit on the sweet dry grass, laughs at that. 

"They don't. Obadiah challenged his own uncle as soon as he came of age. Kit and I weren't born yet but people still talk about it."

Kit nods. 

"They say the battle lasted all night and only ended when my uncle tore out his uncle's throat and drank his blood, just as the sun rose, all red in the eastern sky. He's ruled unchallenged ever since."

Monty shudders.

"Lords. I still can't believe mom and dad wanted to join the Packs. If Dane hadn't met Julian when he did..."

"We didn't know," Astrid Hunter says, making Monty jump as she appears at his back, apparently having overheard. 

She settles on the blanket, sitting cross-legged, and smiles at them. 

"The Mortaines keep their secrets well and the face they show the world isn't the face they show at home. At least, that was the case until recently. When we matched Dane with Selene, we knew the Mortaines were fierce and proud but we did not suspect that they were also vicious and cruel. If we had, we would not have agreed to the arrangement, peace or no peace."

Ophelia snorts. 

"No wonder you got trouble now. Selene's a spiteful bitch, if there's something she wants that she can't have, she makes sure nobody else can have it, either."

Astrid nods. 

"Have you thought about staying? No one would blame you if you pulled up stakes and took your family as far from here as you could. Joseph's got family in Georgia and Dane's got his territory out West. I'm sure you'd be welcomed, either way."

"That's kind of you," Ophelia says, 

"But Ed and I have talked it over and we agree that running isn't the answer, this time. We could be Outcasts all our lives, running from place to place, always lookin' over our shoulders for Mortaines. For Kitka's sake, we'd rather put our trust in your strength and take our chances on a better life, here."

She glances at her little girl, where she plays with Luna and Luca nearby. 

When she'd set the baby down with the twins, Julian had gone stiff and watched anxiously, worried that Luna and Luca might be too rough with her, or not want to share their toys, or might not accept Kitka at all. 

Instead, they had welcomed her readily and been surprisingly gentle with the little half-wolf girl. 

Luna had even given her the stuffed fox to hold, pressing it into her arms with an exclamation of ‘fuks!’

“You're right, too," Ophie continues. 

"About my former Pack, that is. They're good at hiding things. Just look at poor Kit, outside the family, no one even knew he existed. And nobody dreams of choosing their own Mate, it's all about power and the 'strength and purity of the line.' Not like here, where you actually love and care about each other."

Kit shifts uncomfortably and looks towards where Monty’s brother, Martin sits a few yards away with his four children and his mate, Elena. 

Kit knows Monty’s worried about Martin and he doesn't blame him. 

Martin’s family isn't like Monty’s but people don't see what they don't want to see and it's easy to turn a blind eye when others don't want to be seen.

"Actually, Mom, there's something I'd like to talk to you about," Monty says.

"Of course." She looks at him expectantly but he shakes his head.

"Maybe later, alone?"

She nods and the talk turns to other things. 

Some minutes later, the musical howls of two wolves rise from the darkness, signaling the alphas' return. 

They enter the clearing together Dane a towering figure beside his father's more slender form. Whatever secrets passed from father to son, the exchange of power is complete and Dane radiates strength. 

His family cheer and congratulate him and he receives their praise with quiet humility. 

Kit can't quite bring himself to join in with equal enthusiasm, though. 

The Hunter family see hope in his strength and power and Kit does, too but he also know that what Ferrault will see is a worthy Challenger.

                                                       ~ ☾ ~

Kit’s misgivings are soon forgotten amid the festivities and feasting. 

He has never seen such an array of delicious foods, much less been invited to partake of it. 

Monty encourages him to try everything and before long he is too full to take another bite. 

Sleepy and contented, he leans against Monty where he sits with his siblings, on benches around a little fire and listens to them talk. 

They speak of memories from their childhoods, shared adventures, silly mishaps and innocent dreams. 

It makes Kit a little sad, not to have known any of those things but he’s happy, too, that Monty did and that now he is sharing them with him.

"Kit?" 

Monty nudges Kit and he realizes someone has asked him a question.

"Sorry?"

"I just wondered if you'd tried any of the books I brought for you," Noah says, smiling. "I hope they're not too difficult. I can help you if you have any questions."

Noah had given Kit a fresh stack when he arrived, a mix of Wolf history and legend, some charming children's tales and a big heavy one of various mythologies.

"Oh! Yes, I've read them and I enjoyed them very much," Kit says, returning Noah’s smile with gratitude.

"Which ones?" Noah asks, blinking from behind his gold spectacles. 

He is smaller than Martin and prettier, in a way.

"Well, a-all of them."

Noah narrows his eyes at Kit. 

"And you understood them?"

"I... I think so."

"He's a fast learner," Monty says.

"I couldn't have read all those books in the time since we arrived and I've been reading since I was three," Noah replies and to Kit, he says... 

"Okay, who was Aruna and why did the Wolves of the north revere her?"

Nervous sweat prickles Kit’s skin at the unexpected question but fortunately, he had just read that story the night before, so it was fresh in his memory.

“Sh-she was a huntress who f-fell in love with the Wolf-God," he recites hastily. "He t-took her as his Mate and their child was the first whose nature was both Wolf and human."

Noah nods, his eyes widening with astonishment.  

"That's correct."

"What does that prove?" Noah's mate, Ambrose asks, firelight reflecting from his dark eyes and long, red-brown hair. 

"He might've heard that story anywhere."

"No," Noah shakes his head. 

"I borrowed that book from the shop. It's probably the only copy and it's not the sort of story the Mortaines would tell. Gods mixing with humans, Wolves mixing with all kinds of things, not exactly the pure-breed narrative."

"There is even one tale where a Wolf falls in love with a rabbit," Kit says, eyes wide. "I was afraid to read it, at first because I feared it would be a tragedy but it is actually quite humorous."

Noah draws a breath and pushes his glasses up his nose.

"I believe you, Kit," he says firmly. 

"I only wanted to be sure. I've been doing some research of my own, actually and I think your fast learning is a kitsune ability. In some of the legends, foxes don't begin to absorb knowledge until they're one-hundred years old, but that's likely an exaggeration. My theory is that this is the reason you were never taught to read or allowed to go to school, I think your ability to soak up learning like that is the key to unlocking your true potential. Your family didn't want that to happen yet because if it did, they probably wouldn't have been able to control you any more."

Kit stares at Noah, ready to tell him he doesn't have any potential to unlock but Ambrose, winks one ember-bright eye at him.

"I was kept in a similar way, once," he says. 

"If I'd somehow managed to understand and embrace my inner fire... Well, my family would have been reduced to ashes long ago. But then I do not know if I'd have met my lovely little wolf and I would not trade him for the world."

Noah blushes a bright coppery-red and elbows his mate in the ribs. 

Ambrose merely grins, shows slightly long, sharp teeth and Kit wonders at the two of them, Noah is so gentle and quiet, while his mate seems as volatile and dangerous as fire. 

They make an odd pair but they seem to balance each other, just as Kit hopes that he and his Mate shall too.

"Do you have any more?" Kit asks, looking at Noah. 

"Books, I mean?"

Noah laughs. 

"No. I didn't expect you to go through them quite so fast. But I can get more, if you'd like."

Kit nods and leans against Monty's side. 

"Yes, please. I would."

If Kit does has some hidden potential, some secret power to unlock, he wants to discover it, so that he can protect my Mate and his family, as they have protected him. 

First, though, he needs to make Monty his...

                                                     ~ ☾ ~

Later, after the celebrations have ended and the feast has been cleared away and all the little lanterns and candles are extinguished, Monty and Kit retreated to their tent. 

They have a choice of two narrow beds or a single, wide one and since Monty had been busy at the time and had left the decision to Kit who chose the wide one. 

In his whole life, he had never felt so safe or so comfortable anywhere as he did in Monty’s arms and he would rather have slept with him on the bare ground than alone in the most luxurious bed. 

He knew Monty did not trust him and his feelings for him, books were not the only source of learning. 

Kit had observed him and his family and those around him and the more he observed, the more he began to understand. 

If he were more human, he would surely have been broken by his sufferings, surely, as Monty said, he would not wish to be touched or held by anyone. 

But he had been raised like an animal and treated like an animal and so, to some degree, he had thought and experienced things like an animal, too.

There was 'good' and 'bad' 'pleasant' and 'painful' hungry and not-hungry want and fulfillment. 

Simple feelings for a simple soul. 

Kit had lived in a box with blank walls, knowing only what had been told to him and not daring to seek more. 

Now, it was as if the bottom had dropped out, the sky expanded to the distance of the stars and he had only begun to realize the freedom he had. 

It was true, he had been starved of affection and love and now he thirsted for a gentle touch and a kind word but not from anyone. 

Monty was wrong to think Kit trusted him, that he loved him, only because he was the first person he had met who treated him like something worth caring for. 

Kit trusted and loved Monty because he was someone worth caring for.

 Now, Kit just had to convince him of that. 

Kit had already used the shower and changed into his sleeping clothes and now Monty returns from washing and strips out of his own garments, facing away. 

A single lantern hangs from the top rafter of their wood-framed tent and shadows are sharpened by its slanting light.  

Monty's shirt lifts, revealing his muscled back and broad shoulders, fluid strength beneath earth-toned skin. 

He casts it aside and sheds his pants and Kit’s breath catches at the sight of him. 

He has seen plenty of naked men, most of them have frightened him. 

Now though, a seed of want awakens in his core, like a sprout pushing first leaves towards the warm sun's light. 

Kit looks away as Monty dons his night clothes and his pulse quickens as he comes to lie at his side, at his nearness, at his scent and Kit finds himself hungry once again, though food is not what he desires. 

Now Kit wants Monty, all of him, as his own. 

As his own heart's desire.

"Hey Kit," he says, smiling as he lies on his side, facing him. 

"You have a good time tonight?"

"Yes." Kit nods, shifting a little nearer to his heat.

"That little Kitka's something else, huh? Looks so innocent with her big blue eyes and blonde curls and before you know it, she got Luna and Luca eating out of her hand. Two little alphas and a half-wolf and—"

"Monty," Kit interrupts, moving a little closer and sliding his hands over Monty’s shoulders. 

"I love you."

Monty’s breath catches in surprise and his dark eyes go wide. 

"Kit..."

"You love me, too, don't you?" Kit asks.

"I..." 

Monty shuts his eyes and takes a breath. 

"Yes. I love you, Kit."

Sitting up, Kit straddle him, lying atop his chest to kiss his mouth but Monty pushes him away.

"Wait."

"Why?"

Monty lays a muscled arm across his eyes and shakes his head and to Kit’s distress he see tears slide down the sides of his face.

"I can't, Kit."

"Why?" Kit asks again. 

"I want you and I love you, you love and want me. We're mates. Why can't we?"

"Because I'm not ready," he whispers. 

"I'm sorry, Kitty. You gotta understand. I... You'd be my first but... not the first to break my heart, if I'm wrong."

Stung, Kit moves off him and lies at Monty’s side again, facing away this time.

"Tell me," Kit whispers. 

"I've told you everything. So tell me, Monty, why are you afraid? That's what Mates do, right? We're there for each other, no matter what."

Monty is silent so long, Kit thinks he must have fallen asleep. 

Then he speaks, his voice is rough and raw with a mix of emotions Kit can't begin to understand.

"Alright," he says. 

"But this gonna take a while and I won't blame you if you change your mind, after you heard it all."

Kit rolls over to face him again and leans close to briefly press his lips to his.

"No. I'm here to stay. I'm yours and you're mine. Like your mom and dad said, all I want is more time with you."

He bites his bottom lip and takes a deep, ragged breath.

"And I won't hold you to that, Kit," he says, with a soft sadness in his eyes. 

"We only met a few weeks ago and you... You don't know me, yet. You don't know everything. Once you do, I won't blame you if you change your mind, okay? I won't blame you one bit. I'll still love you, though, no matter what. I'll love you anyways."

Kit shuts his eyes as Monty kisses his brow. 

He expect nothing less, from his heart's Mate.’

"I belong to you, Monty," Kit reminds him. 

"You can tell me anything."

And so then, Monty tells Kit everything.

[marcellebelle]

Hello, I'm a big fun of your fic "The tin can man" !

There are a million things I love about it, however one that stuck me just now, as I finished re-reading your fic, it's how interesting is/was the relationship between Mustang and Van, Ed's father.

We didn't see many interactions between them, but their whole history creates an interesting dinamic that for me resurface everytime we see Mustang.

It makes me wonder about how he feels about leaving Van all those years ago, now that he knows how wrong Van's life went. He lost his wife, he abused and neglected his children. I think he feels guilty about not being there to protect Ed and Al. But I don't know how he feels about Van.

When the fire happened, he seemed almost sorry that he saved him and thinks that slowed him down and resulted Al's coma. Later it's showed that he tried to get Van out of the mental hospital and into a rehabilitation program. For me, that shows that he still feels cares about him and wants to help him. Am I interpreting this correctly?

Also does Mustang even knows he is dead? If yes, does he think he killed himself or that he was murdered?

Thank you for writing such wonderfully complex characters ans such a captivating story!

Hi, thank you so much! It means a lot that you're enjoying my fic. I'm sorry for the late reply, I missed the notification, I hope it makes up for it that I'm answering now.

This is such an intriguing question. Honestly I put a lot of thought into character interactions and relationships, even the more minor ones, and long story short, yes Roy does care about Van, but he also feels extremely conflicted knowing who he became.

He blames himself to a certain extent, because as someone who knew Van before he fell apart, he feels he could have prevented it somewhat. Or could have taken care of the children. Roy sees van as someone who is family and so is more forgiving than perhaps he would be if that weren't the case, as is quite common when it comes to families. I'd say you are interpreting it correctly, and I love that it stuck out to you, because when I was writing it I really tried to get across that connection between them and you're right that it is going to affect Roy's appearances and interactions with the younger Elrics.

Also, Mustang does know he's dead and that he was murdered. The suicide story was just a story told to Winry's mother, because as a civilian without access to police records there's no way for her to know otherwise and iacov has connections. It was a power play for Ed. Whether it comes back to bite either of them, only time will tell....

thanks so much for this comment, it was very insightful and I enjoyed reading it :-) <3

[phantom-ellie]

The Art of (Smashing) Crockery Chapter 2 - Katie Cruel

Summary: Stede visits the Rage Room a second time. Awkwardness ensues.

Click here for CWs/Full Chapter List

Stede Bonnet’s “World’s Okayest Dad” mug is missing.

Sure, it’s a silly mug, probably cost a couple of dollars on Amazon, but it’s the only gift his daughter has ever given him. She favors her mother. Both of his children do. And Stede doesn’t blame them. They aren’t old enough to understand why he spends so much time at work, they don’t understand that he doesn’t like being away from them. He just has to be. That’s his duty, that’s the role he was assigned before they were even born. He tries to be there for them, he does. But still, things are awkward at home. Stede doesn’t really understand why. He goes through the motions, says and does the right things. At least he thinks he does. But there’s some sort of barrier, some disconnect between him and the rest of his family unit. And deep down Stede knows it’s his own fault, because it’s always been that way, with everyone.

So when Alma shyly handed him this stupid mug for Father’s Day this year, he completely ignored the subtle insult of just being just an okay father and smiled his best smile and gave her a hug. And they played pirates, which is the only thing Stede does with his children that causes them to open up and show their true, happiest selves to him. And when Louis accidentally bumped the dining table and knocked the mug to the floor, Stede stopped everything to make sure the mug was whole and intact (it was).

But now he’s at work, and the mug is missing. He didn’t remember leaving it in the breakroom. In fact, he’s avoided the breakroom for weeks now, only going when absolutely necessary. Mugs can be cleaned with antibacterial wipes, anyway. Right?

He sighs and leaves his office for the breakroom, hoping against hope that he’ll be alone in there as he searches for it. He takes in a deep breath as he pushes open the door.

There it is. The mug. Both halves of it, plus some extra dusting of ceramic, on the break room table. He lets out the breath and looks at the woman standing not two feet away from it. She is shorter than Stede, but somehow still looking down on him, smiling.

“Gabby,” Stede says in greeting to Chauncey Badminton’s personal assistant.

“Call me Ms. Travers, please.” Everyone else in the office calls her Gabby, but Stede just nods.

“Ms. Travers… did you… that’s my mug.” Stede walks over and starts to pick up the pieces.

“Oh, is it? Mr. Badminton found it on the floor, I was just about to throw it in the trash.” Stede knows he didn’t just find it, and knows she had instructions not to throw it out until Stede had seen it. He’s used to this process, it’s like a well-oiled machine, or bike chain. Or just a chain.

“Well, I am very grateful that I found it first, I’m sure I can repair it, I’ll just take this back to my office-”

“Mr. Badminton wants to see you in his office, I was just coming to let you know.” Stede feels something in his chest die, just a little.

“I-I’ll be right over then, let me just…” Stede scoops up whatever he can of his mug and returns to his office. Honestly, he shouldn’t bother trying to repair it, he should just purchase an identical one. And possibly a few back-ups just in case. But still, he doesn’t have the heart to throw the pieces away and instead dumps them in the drawer of his desk. He can’t wait to hear what Chauncey wants.

He wipes down his shirt and makes his way towards Chauncey’s office like a prisoner going to his execution.

And that’s another day wasted of Stede Bonnet’s life.

---

The second it happens, Ed feels something in his chest, something resembling fondness. He doesn’t know why, he doesn’t even know this guy’s name. And yet, Ed had spent the better part of the last few days thinking of the rich man crying in the rage room, making up stories in his head to justify his presence, his anger, his sadness.

The man walks in looking a bit sheepish, but asks for another 40 minutes in the rage room. Ed doubts he can suddenly making it the whole duration, but that’s this guy’s business. Also, Ed is tired of calling him Billy, or Tom, or Steve. He really needs to put a name to the face. Ed can’t even sneak a peek at the name on his credit card, because he has been paying in cash.

“Uh, what name should I write down here? On the reservation card. You know-”

“Ah! Sorry.” The man holds out his right hand and gives a solid, businessman shake. “My name is Stede-”

“No shit?” Ed bursts out laughing. “I knew you looked like a Steve!” He immediately regrets his outburst when he sees the odd look on Steve’s face.

“Sorry about that, man, I wasn’t thinking.”

Steve just gives a goofy shrug and waves it off. “Nothing wrong with being a Steve.” He leans in a bit conspiratorially. “I’d have been offended if you’d said I were a Nigel or a Chauncey.”

“Oh, gross. No fuckin’ way, mate. Steve is much better.” Ed writes his name down on the card. Steve it is. Ed had cut him off before he could give a last name, but it doesn’t matter.

“Oh!” Steve lifts up a paper bag that gives the familiar clinking sound of ceramic. “Is it all right with you if I brought a few things of my own to… smash?”

“Yeah of course, more the merrier.”

Steve gives a thumbs up and puts on his protective gear. When he’s finished, he’s escorted to the rage room again, while Ed stocks it with a few more crappy items for Steve to destroy.

This time, it’s easier for Steve to get his bearings and start breaking things. He goes for the baseball bat immediately and starts out on a toilet bowl that is probably stained yellow due to the passage of time (probably). But the baseball bat doesn’t do much to the toilet and Steve ends up needing to grab the sledgehammer again. He doesn’t look like he’s used one a day in his life. He raises it awkwardly over his head and brings it down, and Ed cringes a bit, imagining Steve dropping it on his head. But he gets the hang of it after a few tries.

Ed waits a further ten minutes before he gets the itch to be social, which is rare for him. He usually wants to be fucking ignored. But beneath Steve’s rage and sadness, Ed can see something light and happy. He saw a glimpse of it last time, and is somehow aching to see it again. So he shoots his shot.

“Hey mate?”

Steve looks up at the ceiling again (adorable), panting. “Yeah? Is everything all right?”

“Yes, it’s fine, just wanted to know if you wanted to hear a song or something, you know, for fun.”

“Uh, sure! That sounds great!”

“Any requests?”

“No, I trust you, I’m sure you know what you’re doing.”

That’s just what Ed was hoping to hear.

“Bet you’ve never heard of this one, my friend.” Ed starts Le Bien qui Fait Mal from Mozart Rock Opera, but as the violins start, Steve just smiles and shakes his head.

“I think I have, mate.”

“No shit!”

Steve reaches into his plastic bag and begins setting up what he’s brought. It’s a collection of mugs, six or seven of them. Ed can’t completely read what’s on them, but there seems to be some text that says, “World’s Greatest Dad” or somesuch (he has kids?) and a bunch of other mugs with logos from no doubt fancy and prestigious universities and corporations.

Steve lifts up the baseball bat to smash, but seems to think better of it. He puts down the bat, grabs a mug, and hurls it full-force at the wall. It shatters into a dozen pieces, but all Ed can look at is Steve’s strong upper arm.

Oh yeah, he definitely played baseball, Ed thinks, licking his lips. Then he realizes he’s being a perv. Then he remembers that he doesn’t really care. He sits back and watches the show, occasionally listening in on the headphones.

“You’re gonna smash my fucking mug and then invite me to dinner, is that it? You… you… wanker. How do you like your mugs now, huh?”

It takes Steve until the 30 minute mark before he begins crying this time. He sits against the wall for the second time, twirling pieces of smashed ceramic in his hand. Ed decides to leave him be. Maybe this is part of it for Steve, maybe he needs this. Ed isn’t going to judge, and he hopes Steve knows this. He hopes Steve keeps coming back to cry in a small enclosed space where only Ed can be there for him.

Wait, there Ed goes being creepy again.

When Steve is finished removing his safety gear, he leaves, but not without looking Ed in the eye this time and giving a weak smile.

---

Excerpt from the blog Hear Something Weird:

Hi all! Ready to hear something weird?

Bit of a depresser today, sorry my tiny-yet-efficient HSW fam. Take care of yourselves.

When I first came to town, They bought me drinks of plenty. Now they change their tune, And hand me the bottles empty.

The purpose of folk music is to tell the story of a culture, a society, a community. Sometimes these songs celebrate the joy of family and friendship, sharing drinks together and holding hands and telling someone what they mean to you. This isn’t that kind of song. If you don’t have that kind of community, but long for it, Karen Dalton shares your pain with the American folk song Katie Cruel.

If I was where I would be, Then I’d be where I am not. Here I am where I must be, Where I would be I cannot.

Dalton had a harsh, passionate voice that reminds me of Billie Holiday or Janis Joplin. She lived a hard life. I think this kind of folk resonates with a lot more people than we think it does. We have dreams, we have hopes. We see something in our future, something we know must be there. But maybe it doesn’t happen. Maybe it’s bad luck. Maybe you’re a coward and don’t seize the opportunities when they arrive. Or maybe you take the wrong opportunities all together. I’d like to think that for those of us who feel that way, there’s a chance for something better for us. A chance to leave where we are and enter a new town, find a new family where the drinks will be aplenty forever.

That didn’t happen for Dalton, though. She died homeless and alone, addicted and impoverished. But her voice lives on, her story continues every time you hear her music. And that’s a bit beautiful, isn’t it? Maybe we all can do a bit better. For Karen Dalton. I know I try every day.

Comments: Be the first to leave a comment.

Chapter 3: My Secret Friend

[iwantjobs]

5/28/2022:. As a hardcore heterosexual female with hardcore-heterosexual womb with hard-core heterosexual eggs, I say Heard should not be blamed for the words sexual assault in the op-ed against Depp since she said sexual assault occurred before and during college. Now we have to fight for the words domestic abuse and we have to just of Depp had financially, mentally, and psychological abused her since Depp's team proved there was no physical and sexual abused because she massively lied in court that he did. However, this is about the op-ed words as a defamation case. In all husband-wife relationship (like I know as I am a happy Spinster), there's always some level of abuse to balance the power between partners to keep partners from steeping over each other's toes. However, did Depp abuse Heard so badly that she justify her 1st admendment rights to write the op-ed inferring to Titanic man like Depp the long time actor and killed his career, reputation, and hurt his children? Kinda da but the law said 1 offense of domestic abuse and she wins and that's where the law fails and humans have to step in with common sense. her domestic abuse esperience with Depp give her the honour to be celebrtity representative for domestic abuse? NO. Let's stop fighting in the US and give it a wash. Depp gets career and his reputation back and heard returns to quietly to her life as B-actress and new mother. More peace in America please.

[smuggsy]

the second prompt list you posted, number 25, the "when you love someone" would be really good for nygmobblepot if you wanted to 😌

okay, so first things first, we agreed to change the prompt to this one: Character A combs fingers through character B's hair. thanks for being such a sport! <3

Summary: Oswald is jealous, drunk and dizzy. In that order. Word Count: 2096. Read it on AO3 (or under the cut).

There are certain things that come attached to the title of Kingpin of the Underworld. Certain things one might consider red flags, green lights if you will. Things that would send Gotham's hungry wolves on a merciless hunt for his head, no doubt. Showing weakness, hesitation, doubt, incompetence. Oswald knows there's just no space for error when it comes to these, not for Penguin and certainly not for the Mayor.

Unfortunately, he comes to learn Edward Nygma incarnates each and every one of those traits. The ones that would certainly bring about his demise, Oswald admits, if he isn't careful to hide them behind his facade of cold-blooded killer or faithful politician. If he doesn't avert his eyes when the cameras are rolling or when his party attendees are talking to him, toasting, congratulating, saying things Oswald will have forgotten within the hour.

Because he can't help but be painfully aware of Ed's presence, usually standing in strategic high-points making sure everything is running smoothly, sometimes entertaining particularly snobby guests who would have Oswald at their sides for the duration of the night if it were up to them, their egos too fragile but at the same time too precious to threaten even slightly.

Edward is always on top of things.

Oswald is always aware of this.

Of him.

Too much, sometimes.

It's a bit more difficult to pretend he isn't hyper-aware of his musky scent and hoarse voice and well-lean figure when they share a car back to the mansion after occasions like these. When Edward slides into the opposite seat with a pleased self-congratulatory air and confidently starts listing off people and colourful details that might prove useful in the future and Oswald smiles gently, doesn't tell him he already knows he spoke to all of them because he was watching.

He was watching when he brought the Commissioner's mother her favourite cherry-chocolate liquor and when he complimented the Gotham Gazette's new editor's dress. When he leant in pretending he couldn't hear her, when he oh-so-gentlemanly offered a handkerchief after she collided with one of the waiters because she was too distracted by the way he smiled down at her - Oswald was watching.

And, well.

He doesn't blame her.

And Edward?

"...she scribbled her phone number on a napkin and slipped it into my hand so I'll say we, quite literally," he smiles smugly and produces the neatly folded napkin from his dark-olive jacket, "have her in our pocket."

Oswald laughs, sharing in the sentiment, the joke.

Or so he thinks he's doing until he sees Edward's expression shift into something much less chipper and he realises what he's actually done is roll his eyes and scoff like a spoiled little child.

"You don't approve?" Edward asks, excitement dying off.

Oswald curses his own recklessness and puts on another smile that he knows wouldn't fool anyone.

"Oh, no. I approve. I quite approve of your calculated flirting, Ed. A very nice strategy. Maybe try to exercise a bit more prudence next time, go one at a time?"

The car comes to a stop at a red light, Edward stares at him for a long moment before he seemingly understands the meaning behind Oswald's reproach.

"Oh, that!"

(He definitely doesn't understand the meaning behind Oswald's reproach.)

"Yes! No, that was just Miss Johnson recommending me some poetry," the napkin returns to the safety of his breast pocket and next Ed brings out a little notepad from the inside of his jacket, pushing his glasses up his nose and wetting his lips - Oswald looks away, feeling too hot all of a sudden, "she's the head of the Literacy Club, they hold meetings at the City Library every other Thu—"

"I know who she is, Ed!" he snaps before he can stop himself. It's such an abrupt reaction that Edward stops his monologue and looks at him again with that face that means he's trying to decipher his real intentions and assessing the terrain. He looks Oswald up and down and sits straight, clearing his throat one more time and reading his hostility.

"Of course," Ed mumbles, "yes, you do. Sorry. It was a tedious evening, I should—" he clears his throat again out of nervousness and Oswald sighs, biting his tongue and taking a deep breath in, "I'll tell you about it tomorrow. Or not. I know you're not one for poetry anyway."

"Ed..."

"No, it's fine. You must be exhausted, I know you hate these events, mingling and standing up all night—"

"Ed."

Edward's caramel eyes, that'd been cast downwards to his lap in an awkward and almost sheepish manner, shoot up to meet Oswald's again at his insistence. His gentle gaze brings back memories. Of bullet wounds and take-out food and piano melodies and a flourishing friendship.

"Who told you I don't like poetry?" Oswald tries with a gentler and more genuine smile this time. Because he's being too rude. Edward is none the wiser and he shouldn't have to deal with his stupid outbursts of jealousy. "Go ahead," Oswald says, with a much less venomous roll of his eyes and smiling at Edward's playful air and devilish grin.

His Chief of Staff opens his little notepad and shifts over from the opposite seat to come and claim the space next to him.

"I'm all ears," Oswald announces.

Except he isn't, really.

If he'd known Edward was going to make himself so comfortable between him and the cold window, was going to press himself so tightly against his side and loosen up his tie and giggle and start reciting a love poem with that mocking glint in his eyes and that theatrical hand-waving, Oswald never would've encouraged him.

"I hoped that he would love me, and he has kissed my mouth. But I am like a stricken bird that cannot reach the south..."

He needs to loosen up his own tie, too.

"...for though I know he loves me, tonight my heart is sad. His kiss was not so wonderful, as all the dreams I had."

Oswald stops breathing, stops trying to make himself look away from Edward's rosy lips, his cheekbones ever-so-slightly turned pink because their driver has turned on the heating way too high, the laugh that rocks his body, Oswald can feel it too because if he were closer he'd be sitting on his lap.

Stop it.

"—and then she just started telling me about her divorce, as if it wasn't all over the Gazette's front page last month. I declined her invitation but I figured I'd keep the poem, do a little bit of research, get in her good graces, so to speak. Never know when you'll need some funding and everybody knows she won the court case so, ca-ching!"

Ed blurts out another laugh and turns to look at Oswald, no doubt fishing for praise.

Oswald, who's so helplessly staring at him, lips slightly parted and hearing nothing beyond his gentle poem-reading about kisses and love and dreams. One of his betraying hands goes to Edward's nape and settles there, fingers brushing his hair of their own volition, brain failing to catch up to the situation. He feels light-headed.

"Oswald?" comes Ed's slightly concerned voice, now fully turning to face him better.

Oswald blinks out of his stupor with a pitiful gasp.

Sees his hand almost pulling Edward closer —

"Are you..." Ed starts, eyes darting to the side, to Oswald's outstretched arm with a frown, "...okay?"

"Fuck," he says out loud, without meaning to, "I—," he tries, he blinks again, he swallows through a dry throat, he looks at Ed and at his own hand cradling his head and then at Ed again looking at him with a quizzical look but still not leaning away, "—sorry! I— think I had too much to drink."

With that, he retrieves his hand and shuffles away from Edward, feeling like he's about to implode and like he can't take a proper breath in, he starts to get uncomfortably sweaty.

You idiot! What the hell do you think you're doing?!

"Is your leg—?" Edward places a cold hand on his thigh, "is it your leg?"

Oswald looks down, Ed's slim fingers brushing over the fabric of his trousers, he keeps them there, like it means nothing — like it doesn't mean everything.

"What?" he blurts out, because he didn't actually hear what Ed just said.

"You're sweating," his Chief of Staff states matter-of-factly, but when he goes to grab his handkerchief he finds it isn't there.

Oswald closes his eyes and lets his head fall back, thinking this is his only chance of living it down.

"Yes, yes. I'm feeling a bit dizzy."

Edward leaves his side immediately to go tap insistently at the dark window separating them from their newly-appointed chauffeur. He mutters a few orders that Oswald doesn't actually catch, there's a menacing undertone to his words and then he actually leans over into the front side of the vehicle.

"Are you trying to cook us alive?" he says finally, before shutting the window back close with unnecessary force. He turns to an Oswald biting his lip and trying not to laugh, "amateur. Do you want me to fire him?"

"It's his first day."

"Precisely."

"No, I don't want you to fire him, Ed," he peels his eyes open and gestures to the left window, his vision spinning for a moment before he gets just the teensiest bit nauseous, "but maybe you could—?"

Edward returns to his side and rolls the window down a few inches. The cold winter air feels heavenly on Oswald's flushed cheeks and he lets out a sigh — it turns out he did actually have one drink too many, then.

"Better?" Ed asks, too close. Oswald doesn't dare open his eyes again. He only lets out a grunt and shakes his head.

This has backfired completely.

What was supposed to be an act — a decoy, has turned into him bracing himself against the cold glass window to his right and feeling like he's inside a blender. He meant for Ed to get distracted and brush aside his slip but now Ed is closer than he was before and Oswald genuinely feels like he's going to be sick.

"Stop— stop the car," he crooks out, he opens his eyes to see Edward leaning over him with a worried look but making no move to obey, "Ed!"

It stops just in time. He feels quite helpless as he wrestles with the door handle and stumbles outside into the cold dark and empty street of some downtown neighbourhood to empty his stomach by the sidewalk.

He hears rather than see Edward scramble out of the car after him.

"Oh, dear."

How humiliating, Oswald's mind provides, as he tries to lean back up, tries to get some leverage with a hand on the opened door only to find nothing there and almost trip over. Edward catches him just in time.

"Uh-oh," Ed sings, "I got you."

"Mayor Cobblepot! Is there anything—?"

"Just get in the car and wait there," Ed mumbles menacingly. Oswald would've sent the boy a murderous glare himself if he hadn't been so occupied trying not to fall into his own vomit and holding onto his Chief of Staff for dear life.

So much for living this down.

"Ughhhhhh," is all he can say, because he thinks he's about to faint.

"I know, I know," Edward keeps one hand on his arm and the other round his shoulders, "but you'll feel better now it's out."

Oswald scrunches up his face and almost gags again. Edward does a great job of guiding him back into the car, now much colder than it was just a moment ago. He feels like a deer that's learning to walk: he can't seem to find proper footing and only when Ed sits him down and settles next to him does his head stop spinning. The car starts to move again and the passing lights become so bothersome he doesn't open his eyes the rest of the trip home.

"Now can I fire him?"

Oswald nuzzles closer into the embrace, one of Ed's arms is still around his waist and the other hand is left unmoving over his forehead, a cold solace, keeping his head from moving around too much with the sloppy turns and few street holes the car fails to avoid.

And because he's still drunk and Ed is holding him so close, his lips brush against a warm minty-scented neck and stay there, breathing in perfume and skin and finding no resistance.

[openheart12]

Heal

A/N: Set during The Conjuring 3. Also contains dialogue from the movie.

Summary: Lorraine is by Ed’s side throughout his entire time at the hospital.

WC: 2,830

It had been hours since Ed had been taken to the hospital after the exorcism at the Glatzels where he had been gasping for air on the floor, his pulse weak and barely there. 

The waiting was torturous for Lorraine, concern and fear had taken over her entire body. She barely acknowledged Judy when she arrived, not even knowing she had been called. She assumed it was Father Gordon who made the call, but she was grateful. Her daughter was the only other person who could comfort her besides Ed. 

The three of them sat on one of the hospital benches, it was cold and hard and left Lorraine’s back aching. She was trying to be strong, for herself, for Judy, for her husband. Almost thirty years of history was replaying in her head. She both welcomed and hated the memories. 

They reminded her of what she had and what she might be losing. 

She unconsciously played with the rosary wrapped around her hand as she prayed for Ed’s health and safety. She’d plead with the devil himself if that’s what it took. 

“Mrs. Warren,” the doctor called as Lorraine shot to her feet. “He’s stabilized. We’re gonna transfer him to the coronary unit.”

“So, it was a heart attack?” Father Gordon asked the dreaded question. 

“Yes,” the doctor confirmed. “And not a minor one, I’m afraid.” Lorraine’s shoulders visibly sagged. Oh what she wouldn’t give to trade places with him right now. 

“Can we see him now?” Judy asked.

“Not yet. We’re gonna put a stent into his artery, try to get blood flowing back to his heart.”

Lorraine had been quiet, taking in the information about her husband intently, trying to hold her tears at bay. Exhaling, she tried to steady her voice before asking, “so, is he gonna be alright?”

“We’re gonna need to run a few more tests before I’m comfortable answering that. I’m sorry,” the doctor said before leaving. 

Lorraine turned to Judy who had tears in her eyes and pulled her in for a hug, taking comfort in her.

“It’s okay, mom,” she whispered, hoping that it would be. Judy knew this would absolutely destroy her mother, if he wasn’t okay, especially since she was there when it had happened and would no doubt blame herself. 

Lorraine held onto her tightly as tears silently streamed down her face until she abruptly pulled back, wiping her cheeks with her sleeve. 

“I need… I have… I’ll be right back,” she stammered, running off to the nearest bathroom she could find, emptying the contents of her stomach in the toilet. 

She took a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves. He was alive. He was breathing and she couldn’t ask for much more, but seeing him laying on that floor, it replayed through her head. If she had gotten to him sooner maybe there was something she could’ve done. The what ifs were just as bad as the memories haunting her. 

She splashed some water on her face, begging her mind to just stop. Stop thinking, stop churning. She headed back out to the waiting area where she found Judy waiting for her who told her that Father Gordon had to leave but he would be back to check on him. She took a seat beside her daughter who laid her head on her shoulder and Lorraine grabbed her hand, squeezing it in support. 

When they were finally able to go back to Ed’s room, her breath hitched upon seeing him lying there in the hospital bed, different tubes and wires connected to him. The color had returned to his face, but he still looked weak. 

She stood in the doorway, taking in the sight of him for a few minutes. She was afraid to get close to him at first, in fear that this was some cruel dream and when she’d wake up, he wouldn’t be there anymore. Tentatively, she made her way towards him and placed a kiss to his forehead as she grabbed his hand, rubbing small circles on his skin. She sat down in the chair beside the bed and just watched the rhythmic fall and rise of his chest. 

Judy watched her mom, noting how tense and afraid she looked. Ever since she was a little girl, she always watched her parents. She saw the love and adoration they had for each other and the different ways they showed it. She grew up in a house full of love, she was always surrounded by love; the love her parents had for her and each other. She couldn’t remember a time where they even so much as argued, at least not in front of her, and it made her want a relationship just like theirs.

It was remarkable really, the amount of love and happiness that was in the Warren household considering what her parents did as a living, where they were constantly surrounded by horrible things, but they always managed to keep it out of their lives at home. 

And right now, it had never been more clear to see the love her mom had for her dad and it was evident in her actions since he had been admitted. But Judy could see the toll it was taking on her, she was exhausted and the bags under her eyes were already beginning to worsen. 

“I’m going to get some coffee, do you want some?” She asked softly.

“No, I’m good, thank you,” Lorraine smiled half-heartedly. 

After Judy left, Lorraine turned her attention back to her husband. Her eyes began to grow heavy and she decided to close them for a few minutes, resting her head on the bottom half of his legs as sleep overtook her exhausted body.

Judy came back to the room to find Lorraine fast asleep and decided to head to the house to pick up a few things, asking the nurses to call if anything happened while she was gone before leaving. 

An hour passed when Lorraine was woken up by a knock on the door and she turned to see Father Gordon walk into the room.

“It was nice seeing Judy again. Will she be staying long?”

“I don’t know, um, it depends if…” she trailed off, looking at Ed.

“The nurse says that you have been sleeping in that chair. Ed would understand if you went home for a little while.”

“Did I ever tell you the story of how we met?” She asked, changing the topic away from her. 

“No, I don’t think so. Just that you were young. In high school, wasn’t it?” 

“Yeah,” she said smiling, “we were seventeen. I went out with my girlfriends and he was an usher at the movie theater that we went to. Afterwards, we went out for ice cream. He took me out to the park, but then it started to rain. And we stood under the gazebo until it stopped. That was thirty years ago. I could go back to the house, Father, but my home is here with him.”

Father extended her stay to about thirty more minutes, making light conversation with Lorraine as she talked about memories that were so near and dear to her heart and her spirits were raised a little bit. But when he left and she was alone with Ed again, her mind started to spin again. She was grateful for the time she had to herself, just being in his presence brought about a peace within her storming head. 

Judy made her return a few minutes later, she had gone by the house earlier to pick up some clothes for both Ed and Lorraine and some toiletries they might need with his stay in the hospital, however long it was going to be. 

The two of them sat in silence while each holding one of his hands, Lorraine didn’t even remember falling asleep until she heard her name being called multiple times. 

“Lorraine. Lorraine. Lorraine,” she heard someone calling her voice weakly, waking her from her slumber. 

“Daddy!” Judy called out, jolting Lorraine from her seat as Judy pressed the button to alert the hospital staff. 

“Oh, Ed, thank God.” She cupped his face in her hands, stroking his cheek gently.

“Lorraine,” he tried again, “you have to call the Glatzels.”

“She just called, you’re fine-”

“The Glatzels. We have to warn them, it’s got the kid.”

“No, it’s fine, it’s over. David is safe, the demon is gone.”

“Arne. It’s got Arne!” He said as her eyes widened in realization. 

Lorraine went to the first phone she could find, dialing the local police. “This is Officer Thomas,” someone answered. “My name is Lorraine Warren. I know how this is going to sound, but there’s going to be a tragedy at the Brookfield Boarding Kennels.”

All they could do now was wait. Ed was in no position to handle this case right now and Lorraine wasn’t going to leave his side when he needed her the most. 

When she walked back into his room, the doctor was in there checking him out and going over some medications he wanted Ed to take, starting with nitroglycerin, a type of vasodilator to help with increasing the blood and oxygen supply to his heart. The doctor left after saying he would send the prescription to be filled and they could pick it up in a couple hours. 

“How are you feeling, hon?” She asked, moving to sit on the edge of his bed.

“Tired,” he replied as he yawned. “What did the police say?”

“They’re going to send a car over there to check it out.”  

“That’s not sufficient,” he argued.

“It’s out of our hands now, Ed. You need to rest.” He took a few deep, calming breaths before letting out another yawn. She leaned over and planted a kiss on his forehead before starting to stand up when he reached out and grabbed her hand, stilling her movement. She raised her brow, asking a silent question.

“There’s enough room for both of us,” he said slyly, moving over to make room for her as he patted the now vacant space next to him. 

“Ed,” she laughed, “I am not sleeping with you.” 

“Please,” he insisted, tugging her arm so that she was closer. “I don’t bite… unless you’re into that.”

“Ed!” She laughed, swatting his arm playfully. 

“Come on, I’m tired and I can’t sleep without you. Remember our ‘never sleeping apart’ promise?”

“You’re impossible,” she said, rolling her eyes playfully before relenting and climbing into the bed next to him. He wrapped one arm behind her back, resting on her waist as his other rested on his chest. She nuzzled into his side, placing one hand across his chest over his heart so she could feel his heartbeat. 

“Love you,” he whispered, kissing her temple before drifting off to sleep. 

“I love you,” she whispered back, relishing in the feel of his arms around her, something she feared wouldn’t be possible again. 

She was awoken an hour later by the nurse who said she had a phone call. She carefully slid out of Ed’s embrace, trying not to wake him and made her way to the nurses station where she picked up the phone, “hello?” She answered. 

“Lorraine, it’s Father Newman. Arne is being brought to the prison, he killed someone and I need you and Ed here as soon as possible.”

“I’m afraid that’s not possible, Father. Ed had a heart attack and he’s in the hospital. The doctor said he needs to take it easy so we might have to take a step back from this case,” Lorraine explained, feeling guilty. 

“I understand, but maybe even if you could just come and talk to Arne, see if he was possessed or not would be extremely helpful.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” she said before hanging up the phone with a sigh. She wanted to help Arne, but with Ed’s health, she didn’t think it would be possible. She headed back to his room where she found him awake and seemingly waiting for her.

“Where’d you go?” He asked.

“Father Newman called, he said that Arne murdered someone and they need to find out if he was possessed when he did it, but I told him we might have to stop working on the case until you’re better.”

“We can’t do that, Lorraine. It’ll be too late by then.”

“Then it’ll be too late. You’re in no position to be working on a case right now anyways. The doctor said you need to rest and you don’t need to put any extra stress on your body which is exactly what taking on this case would be doing.”

“But-”

She cut him off, “no, Ed. I’ll go to the prison in a little while to check on him myself, but I’m not risking your health.”

“Lorraine, he needs our help,” he said, slightly raising his voice. 

“No.” 

“We promised to help the family and we don’t break promises,” he tried reasoning with her.

“No.” She said, her answer remaining the same.

“Dammit, Lorraine, will you stop being selfish for a minute and think of what this poor boy is going through,” he said harshly, instantly regretting the words as soon as they left his mouth. He didn’t mean them, he was angry and frustrated at the situation at hand, but he didn’t mean to take it out on her. 

“You could’ve died!” She shouted, her voice breaking. She turned her back to him, wrapping her arms around herself as tears slid down her cheeks at a rapid pace. She had never cried so much in one day before and she hated it. 

He had no doubt she had sat by his side the entire time he was in the hospital, she was there as soon as he woke up and guilt was already eating away at him. He could only imagine how scared she must’ve been, he remembered seeing the fear in her eyes as he laid on the ground earlier and she was probably exhausted, much like he was already. 

“I’m sorry, hon, I didn’t mean that,” he apologized. “Lorraine… look at me, please. I’m sorry,” he repeated, making an effort to get out of the bed to go to her. 

“Do-don’t get out of bed,” her trembling voice said. She sniffed a few times, cleared her throat and turned around towards him and the sight that met him made a lump rise in his throat. Her eyes were red and swollen with tear stains across her cheeks and her hair was coming out of the bun it had been in. 

She looked like she’d been to hell and back and he assumed that’s how she felt. He knew that’s how she felt and then he had to go and call her selfish after not doing anything to him. He felt like a complete asshole. 

“I-I’m sorry,” he repeated as his own tears filled his eyes. “I didn’t mean it,” he promised. 

“I’m just worried about you,” she said quietly.

“I know, sweetheart and I’m sorry for what I said.” He held out his shaking hand to her which she took and he pulled her close so she was standing next to the bed. She sat on the edge of the bed, looking into his eyes and she could see the remorse and it made her heart ache for him. She knew he didn’t mean it. 

“We’ll help him,” she said eventually.

“No, we don’t ha-”

“No, Ed, you were right. We made a promise and we don’t break them. But I’m not willing to let you put your health at risk either so you have to take it as easy as possible and you have to take the pills the doctor gave you.”

“I will, I promise.” 

“You will be staying here for the night though, no debating.”

“Yes ma’am,” he said with a small smile. He’d do anything for her and this was the least he could do after what he said. “I won’t even complain about the hospital food,” he said laughing.

“It’s not much better than when you cook at home,” she teased lightly.

“You’re gonna give me another heart attack,” he said, feigning hurt as he placed his hand across his chest. 

Laughing, she laid down next to him. “You’re lucky I love you.”

“Trust me, I know. I love you so much,” he said, turning to lay on his side as he placed his arm across her abdomen, pulling her closer by her waist. “I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he added.

“You’d probably starve to death,” she smiled against his neck, trying to conceal her laugh.

“Very funny,” he said, rolling his eyes. 

“It’s a good thing we won’t have to find out.”

“Indeed,” he agreed with a smile as they both laid in the bed, content with each other’s company and soaking in their time together. 

[engaged19times]

RHONJ Recrap - season 11, ep 1 - C U Next Tuesday!

Greetings fellow prostitution whores and welcome to my new weekly recrap of American institution The Real Housewives of New Jersey! Before I jump in I’ll introduce myself by saying that I’m a housewives super fan (I even watched DC, an experience I wouldn’t wish on my worst sister-in-law), an underemployed comedy writer (I can’t define “napalm” either, Lauren Manzo), and nothing makes me happier than to watch 6 bedazzled hypocrites in Cheesecake Factory mansions argue etiquette and loyalty between physical altercations in the world renowned cultural hub of Paterson, New Jersey. I know essay recaps are a bit of a relic but I am fond of ye olde written word so please enjoy this blast from the past, you scumbags!

We open without fanfare mid-scene to red-eyed Jackie and dead-eyed Teresa sitting in Margaret’s partially finished, wallpaper smothered home. We get the Bad Girls Club black-and-white flashes but unlike in Beverly Hills we’re not flashing to “three months earlier” but instead to “three days earlier.” It might take women of less gumption precious time to build to a production-halting confrontation but it only takes these agents of chaos half a week to get the meatball rolling.

Let’s back up a little to the ominous “three days prior” and catch up with our hot girls. It’s Jackie’s giant hot husband’s 46th birthday so she’s throwing him a party under a tent in the parking lot of a Greek restaurant. We learn that Teresa and Joe’s father has sadly passed in the offseason and Dolores Thee Stallion and Margaret have both had full cosmetic overhauls - Dolores with a second butt enhancement that left her with a giant hip scar rivaled only by Sally from Nightmare before Christmas and Margaret with a boob lift and apparent nipple sharpening (is that a procedure?) that she advertises in a blush silk top with no bra. Never one to be outdone at a parking lot birthday party, Joe Gorga arrives with his storyline - I mean wife, Melissa - also smuggling raisins under a skin tight children’s white T-shirt. Nipples are trending, ladies!

The Nightmare Before Christmas.

A beautiful boob lift.

Tarzan’s headlights.

Margaret’s hot employee Lexi and Teresa’s hot realtor Michelle (both of whom are official friends-of this year), as well as iconic social wrecking ball and Aydin Center for Plastic Surgery mascot Jennifer all saunter in for car park cocktails at this 3D nipple fashion show and as the night devolves we see the cast getting truly shit-housed on shots when out of nowhere storyline sniper Teresa drops the bomb that she heard sexy birthday Bigfoot Evan is cheating on Jackie... more specifically, that he “does stuff” at the gym but mysteriously can’t remember any details or where she heard this head-scratching accusation that draws as many gasps as it does “huhs?” Honest straight people question: do y’all hook up at gyms? And if so, where? Are there co-ed saunas now? Also can one of you explain the allure of Mike and Molly to me? Moving on. Most shocking was that the Perez Hilton of North Jersey doesn’t just drop this wild accusation once, she gleefully skips through this asphalt soiree like a goddamn town crier, addressing everyone she passes like Belle through the town square.

The next day the hard partying crew of Jersey Shore: All Grown Up recovers from their throbbing hangovers and we see cool mom Melissa traipsing through her particle board mausoleum in see-through sweatpants with a visible thong in front of her kids’ friends (you girls keep me young!), Marge Sr. driving a blue Mini Cooper with eyelashes on the headlights (which I assume are like the spinning rims of the Jersey Grandma community), and a flashback of Margaret’s Joe puking next to a tree (relatable, my dude).

Marge Sr.: Fully Loaded.

You girls keep me young!

Over at Jennifer’s palatial child farm we learn that her parents fight so much these days that she moved her father (Carl from Up!) to her multi-generational compound which has only angered her mother more.

Jennifer’s sweet dad.

We then find out Dolores’s dry boyfriend David with whom she shares the burning passion of a melting ice sculpture now lives with her bulging slab of a son Frankie Jr. in the house he and Delores built together but Dolores curiously still lives with her also bulging but slightly slimey ex Frank Sr. in her original house, a near Braunwyn-level web of over-explained but still vague relationship fuckery of which none of them seem on the same page. Dolores hid her surgery from David until the day before, David still works constantly so she hangs out with her ex all the time, and I can’t help but think that we aren’t getting the full story on whatever the fuck is happening under these two roofs. Are they brother-husbands? Is Frank Sr. piping both of them? Can Frankie Jr. DM me his nudes please? The only one being straight-forward in these duel households of confusion is Dolores’s dog who is simply named Dog and I honestly appreciate his refreshing transparency.

Dog Catania, king of transparency.

Finally, Jackie calls Teresa to organize an infamous Jersey sit-down because she somehow got wind of the out-of-thin-air accusations that Teresa all but presented with a bull horn and a PowerPoint at Evan’s parking lot social. They decide to meet at Margaret’s partially constructed house/ wallpaper showroom because it’s neutral territory to hash things out in a relaxing landscape of ladders and contrasting patterns and the tension is so thick you could cut it with one of Margaret’s newly renovated nipples.

Jackie pleads with Tre to clear her husband’s good name and Tre enters a baffling Kelly-Anne Conway bullshit loop which includes such hits as “woman to woman, if I heard this you wouldn’t want me to tell you?” (a reasonable point which is actually working against Teresa because it’s the opposite of what she did), then explaining to Margaret the immediately contradictory “I didn’t tell her and it’s not like I told Evan, I told my friends” (which is an explanation of what she obviously did wrong but said in the tone of a defense), the wacky last ditch nonsense deflection “Alright let me tell you the reason why I did it. This year, now, you know I’m single now. I’ve been approached by a lot of married men that think that it’s OK to have affairs,” and finally just saying fuck it and rewriting history “I did not spread a rumor, I heard a rumor.”

The truth is that Teresa was retaliating for a cheating rumor Jackie entertained about her last year but neither can be held to such unreasonable expectations like addressing reality or admitting fault which is actually ideal because if I cared to see emotionally mature community leaders converse thoughtfully I’d watch Oprah’s Super Soul Sunday not this unhinged turnpike circus.

Jackie’s rival won’t budge so she chooses the nuclear option, looks the reigning matriarch of Paterson in her vacant eyes, and declares confidently “I heard Gia snorts coke in the bathroom at parties” which stopped time on Earth as far as I’m concerned. Is this wild accusation true? Probably not. Was this retaliatory tit equal to the offending tat? Debatable. Do I blame Teresa for immediately whipping into a tailspin and storming out screaming the C-word (no Kathy Wakile, not “canoli kit”) at Jackie no less than 80 times? Girl, no I do not. Jackie has since clarified (backtracked?) that this was an analogy not a rumor she heard which... OK, and whether or not either of the atomic bombs dropped in this breakneck premiere were true, I’m excited to watch our Paterson superstars battle it out for another batshit season!

Esteemed poet laureat of Paterson, NJ.

Join me and my own rock hard nipples next week to recrap a girls trip to Lake George, more developments in the case of Jackie vs Teresa: Jersey Crime Story, and hopefully another cameo by breakout superstar Dog Catania! Please share this recrap with the prostitution whores in your life if you enjoy and follow me on Tumblr (engaged19times), Insta (@engagednineteentimes), and Twitter (@_engaged19times)! I’m recrapping weekly but I don’t get screeners (yet) and it takes me a few days to catch up so please be patient!

XO engaged19times

[youresog0lden]

15 II Spencer Reid

Summary: It’s been 15 years since the murder of your mother so you take the day off, while back home your best friend is trying to find out what happened with the case completely forgetting that every day for the past 6 years he would come over and stay with you. 

WC: 3.2k 

Warnings: Angst, the mentions of death, panic attacks, the mentions of depression, ED (kinda), Murder, Stabbing, Violence, Crying, Vomit, The mentions of Heaven I think I could be wrong I might have said above. -But just in case-  I used y/n but used a last name so I could make the story easier just replace it. 

A/N: I definitely cried while writing this one. Please let me know what you think ! This is one of my favorites !  THIS IS NOT MY GIF

masterlist

Notes: Y/n/n = your nickname y/n = your name

Relationship: Spencer x Fem Reader (kinda)

"The song is ended, but the melody lingers on." ~ Irving Berlin

15 years ago. fif-teen. Today was the big day. I was 15 years ago. Since my mom was brutally murdered. They told us they never found the murderer. That they tried to find every piece of evidence that they could but, this person is a pro. Every year I take the night to try and help solve the case but nothing has come out of it.

"Hey Garcia." I chirped picking up the phone.

"Hey beautiful. I know it's your day off but we really need you on this case." she pleaded.

"I can't. I have to go." I say softly hanging up the phone. Every year on her death date I go to her grave to talk to her let her know that she's not alone. I tell her about everyone and everything. I tell her about Spencer. Even though if she was here now she would tell me to stop thinking about boys and that there a waster of time. I bring her her favorite flowers even though they take a week to get to me because there rainbow roses. Her favorite. She says there way to colorful reminding her of everyone of her kids, never a dull moment. So I take the day to thank her for having me for bringing me into this world. I made sure her grave was put in the Jane graveyard. I wanted her to feel at home with her mom and dad. I always leave crying but, knowing she's watching from above only makes me have hope that I will see her again. Right at the time I get up to get ready I get a call from a certain Doctor.

"Hello Dr. Reid." I joked.

"Hello Agent Jane." we laughed at the joke both of us made

"I'm waiting for you." at this point I almost immediately stopped laughing.

"Do you not know what today is?" I asked quietly.

"No. Am I supposed to?" he asked. Yes because I told you. I told you what happened. I told you the date. I told you how she was murdered but I guess you forgot.

"No never mind. Look Spencer I have to go." before he can say anything I hang up. I sit there looking at myself. Black jeans, boots, and a hoodie. I nod before grabbing my bag and the flowers leaving and a bag I packed since I was going home. I set my things down and make sure the flowers are secured. I back out of my parking lot and drive towards the highway. Hey sweetie I just wanted to let you know I love you. Please be careful tonight I love you more than anything. Her voice rang in my head like it did every year on her date. I remember getting the call in the morning after seeing it on the news. I took me months to finally get up and move around and it took me two years to finally go and see her. I was 18 when it happened. My brother was the only one home at the time.

He told me he came home from the football game to see her blood all over the house. Justin wasn't home at the time. Justin being my step-dad. He told me that she asked him to go get roses for there anniversary coming up so he did. I cried for weeks on end. I ended up being taken to the hospital because I stopped eating. I stopped taking care of myself. I couldn't physically do it anymore. I couldn't sit there in the house anymore. I ended up moving out and starting college like my mom would've wanted she was the whole reason I became a profiler I needed to find out what happened. I needed to catch this guy but, it was like he feel off the face of the earth. The case went cold and eventually everyone moved on. Even I did I was finally happy. I made family at work. Nothing could ever replace my original family but they were a close second. I made a best friend. Spencer Reid. Even though he didn't remember today I didn't blame him for it. He may have an eidetic memory but, work was one of the many things that flooded that pretty brain of his.

Eventually after being friends with him it's almost natural to develop a crush -if you will- on him. Almost like a wildfire I did. I couldn't help but love him and all of his quirks. He could make the moon smile if he tried. Hell even if he didn't try but when he did and he let out a laugh it was contagious. Everyone would laugh. He was the heart and soul of the team. His magic tricks, his lectures about why the girl and I can't have more than five shoots and three drinks when we go out. - I really think it's the dominance coming out in him - but he says he just cares about us and doesn't want us to complain to him about our raging headaches in the morning at work. Almost every year Reid would come over and help me through it. I would never actually take him to my moms grave he just stayed the night before and made sure I was okay every morning for almost six years. I hurt that he forgot but once again work probably effected that.

After what seemed to be about a three hour drive and two bathroom stops I pull into the graveyard surrounded by the Jane family church our great, great, great, great, great grandparents founded in. This is where our family was berried time after time. Taking a big breath I see the street lights surrounding the graveyard making it not look as deep and depressing. I grab the flowers and a water bottle moving out the car and into the graveyard. I take a deep breath walking and sitting down by my mom.

"Hey momma." I say softly looking down at her headstone. Cheryl Jane. Loving mother, Wife, and daughter. June 8th 1970- August 25th 2005. It's okay rest easy momma-bear you've done your work. Just at the read  of that my eyes start watering. "It's been a year. A lot has happened this year. Emily has been working our asses off. It seems like cereal killers never take the time off. I miss you more than ever. I know Brantly does to. He talks about you the most. It's really hard for me to. Even though you know that. Anyway I'm sure you want to know the constant loop of my life. Well here it goes. Mom I'm in love with my best friend and he's in love with his and I know that sounds confusing but here let me explain in. He may be mine but JJ is his. I can tell by the way his eyes get big when he hears her talk or how his smile is or how he blushes as she talks but I get why shes beautiful. He's so in love with her mom and, it hurt's so bad but sometimes you have to get through the pain. Derek left. He has a kid so he went to be daddy Derek with Savannah. We have a new team member. Luke Alvez he's cool. Emily is the new unit chief. Hotch had to leave for a while. Recently it's been hard mom. I've barley been wanting to go to work in the morning knowing he isn't mine. Mom, I know that if you were here right now you'd tell me." I take a deep breath tears running down my cheeks.

"Don't worry about boys Y/N. Life is way to short. Go out start loving yourself, not guys. Because if one thing is promised in life it's you'll always have yourself. That and, that no one ever makes it out of here alive. So stop wasting time on him and, trust me I'm trying. I really am. I just need you to be here to hold me while I cry in your arms. Mom I'm 33 and I still need to cry into your arms. Mom I thought I would have you until I'm old. I didn't picture you not being here to see me graduate college. I thought you would be here to see me have the kids you always wanted to see me have. You always talked about being a grandma. I thought you could walk me down the isle as I'm getting married in your dress with our family ring seeing your smile on your face. God I miss that smile so much and what I wouldn't do to see it again. Pictures aren't enough. I don't know how long it's been since Jasmine came out here to talk to you but she's married now. To this guy his names James. I really like him. I can tell he makes her happy. There expecting. I'm going to be a godmother and a aunt. I never thought I would be this achieved in my life. The only thing is-" I couldn't stop crying. It kept coming down in waves of sadness tears escaping like no other.

"Well there's quite a few only things but the first thing is I just expected you to be here when I tell everyone the news. I used to remember running into the living room telling you how much I wanted to move to London and meet a cute English boy and have a perfect life. Well the whole boy thing isn't working. -obviously- but I got offered a job for a secret agent task force that goes undercover all around the world and helps solves cold cases from all around. I have to let them know by next week all I could think about was my family, and how if I left how hurt they would feel we've already lost so many team members but at the same time this may be exactly what I need. I would still come and visit you every year. I promise. Pinky. But I don't know I have a lot to think about on my way home. I could sleep in a hotel tonight but I just don't think I want to do that. But anyways I love you lots momma-bear more than anything. See you next year." and with that I placed the roses on her headstone standing up noticing it was starting to get dark I quickly go to my car unlocking it and placing the keys into the ignition and looking at my phone seeing as I shut it off to be more with my mom today.

4 missed call for Spence

3 missed calls from Garica

2 text from Spence. Click to open it.

So that's exactly what I did I look at the texts.

"Y/N please answer me. I know what today is I'm so so sorry I forgot."

"I'm on my way. Please just tell me your safe." I text back with a quick "It's fine. I'm already on my way home. Just leave me alone for the night please." I turn off my phone once again before heading on my way home. Leaving the busy road to much calmer ones.

"Mommy." I called out walking around the house. There I stood in a blue Cinderella dress and her clear heals with this sassy attitude.

"Yes sweetie." she laughs looking at me taking out her clunky camera and snapping a picture of me.

"Mommy can you pwease help me talk this off." my four year old eyes flashed on her. She laughs nodding her head.  She helps me take off the dress leaving me in my hello kitty underwear and heals. She pulls out one of my pj sets and looks at me.

"Let's get you ready for bed. Yeah?" she says. I nod sticking my arms up. She picks me up taking me into the bathroom.

"Can we pwease use the hello kitty bubbles." I ask with puppy eyes.

"Of course my sweets." she kissed my forehead. She lets the bath fill up before putting me in there and bathing me. Kissing me on the head, the shoulder, the top of my back, the side of my head then, my nose. Every time a little laugh left my lips.

"Stop mommy it tickles." I laugh splashing the water. She gasps

"Mommy." I say sternly. She gives me a look before continuing

"Yes baby."

"I love you more than ice cream."

"Is that so?"

"Yes."

"Then I love you more than the sun and moon combined."

As the flashbacks come back so do the tears. I pull over to the side of the road before feeling my heart crack.

"Then I love you more than the sun and moon combined."

"Fuck." I yell sitting in my car all alone. My breathing increasing in seconds my hands shaking. I can feel the urge to get out of my car and puke. But I sit there trying to call myself. It wouldn't stop her voice, the memories. I grab my phone knowing only one person could even remotely help this but deciding against it I put the phone down. I bust my car door open before falling to my knees and puking whatever I ate this morning out. I didn't stop tho I couldn't but once, I finally do I stand up and go to my car looking for a bottle of water. Finding one a few seconds later I grab my to-go bag washing my mouth and and brushing my teeth with the water I had. I get back in my car which now my hands weren't shaking as much so I was good on driving. At a red light I turn my phone on waiting for it to start back up again. When it finally does I connect it to my speaker I quickly call Spencer. The phone rings for a second before hearing the uttermost thing.

"Hello." his voice sounded shakily.

"Spence." my voice broke. Fuck really.

"Y/n/n." he sighs realizing you.

"Spence I'm almost home do you think you could spend the night tonight I don't want to be alone." I whimpered out tears sliding down my face.

"I'll be there in ten with food ready for you." he almost said instantly. I nod knowing he can't see me before hanging up and making my way down the exit.

"Mom. Get out." I complained. I was 15 and I just wanted privacy.

"Come on sweetie talk to me." she sighs.

"No. Just leave me alone." I yell.

"Don't you dare yell at me I am your mother." she was now raising her voice. I stopped dead in my tracks.

"I wish you were never my mother. "

After saying those few words to her, I could see the heartbreak in her eyes. She did everything for me even when we didn't have money and it was just the two of us. Then at the time it was my mom, my sister, I and her husband Justin and his kid. I didn't mean to say it I was just mad and I always apologized for it still feeling bad for even saying it.

"I wish you were never my mother." The words were like ice. She stopped dead in her tracks. It still heart my heart when thinking about it. It still made me cry thinking about it. Which I already was but still it only increased it. I grab my bag walking into the apartment complex seeing Reid's car parked a few down from mine I knew he used the key I gave him to get into my apartment. God how much more obvious could I be. I walk to the elevator pressing the fourth floor taking my time up there. I open the door hearing his footsteps bring him into direct eye-contact. I drop my bad right by the door closing it as he held his arms open for me to walk into, so I did exactly that. I walk right into his arms. My arms latching around his neck his wrapping around my waist. I bring my head into his neck crying harder with each second the hug lasted. He doesn't say anything he just sways us back and forth letting us take in the moments. Enjoying having someones arms to cry in after a long day of crying by yourself. It felt nice knowing he was there if you needed him.

"Do you want to eat?" he asked. I nodded my head before sitting at my island. He hands me my bowl of Chinese food and takes his own setting it down on the side of me. I lay my head on his shoulder messing with my food with my fork. He notices it but doesn't say anything he just takes my hand way and holds it with his laying his head on top of mine. He took his head off mine and unlaced his hands before taking a deep breath.

"You need to go lay down you look exhausted." he says in a hushed tone.

"Can you come lay down with me." I say just as quietly.

"If you go get ready I'll clean up the kitchen then I'll come lay down with you." he says. I nod before walking a few steps forward before quickly turning around and turn into his embrace hugging him once again. I mumble a quick 'thank you.'  Into his stomach.

"I love you." I say once I finally let go.

"I love you pretty girl." he says softly using my nickname he gave me a while ago when I started using the nickname pretty boy because of Morgan. I walk into my room changing into a pair of shorts and his over sized Cal-tech t-shit. I brush me teeth once again and go into my room where he has changed from his normal dress pants into his flannel pants with a hoodie on. I smile at him smally but I could tell he noticed because once I did he flashed me an award winning smile holding up his tooth brush. I laugh lightly and walk to the bed letting him get in the bathroom. He walks out and get's on his side of the bed laying into it with me.

"Y/n?" he questioned.

"Yes love."

"I heard that they think the found the killer." he says. I sit up straight.

"What-" I questioned softly

"Emily said they found a note and a dead body confessing into killing your mom." he says just as softly.

"How do we know it's him?"

"He explained in the letter details only the person who did it would know his prints were found on a weapon that looks exactly like the weapon your mom was killed with and the blade matched and everything. Then we found a recording of him and your mom talking."

"When did you find this?"

"Today." I nod.

"So it's really him?"

"Yeah. It's really him." he says. I smile softly, our eyes finally meet. He grabs me pulling me closer to him. I take this as a sign and plant my lips on his. He doesn't kiss back so I pull away just as quickly.

"I'm-I-I'm so sor-" I was cut off by his lips on my once again finally feeling at peace.

"Our Life is made by the death of others."~ Leonardo da Vinci

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[sunlitroom]

Hello. I hope u do not mind asks. Just now became enthralled with Jeremiah Valeska. I am trying to write a story with him, but I am looking for input. I can't decide if he had some craziness in him before the gas or not. I know it's supposed to be up to interpretation I guess? But I'm just curious to know what you think. I like your blog :)

Hello anon.  I do not mind asks at all :)  I hope you are well.

What follows is a bit of an essay - sorry.  I love a bit of meta.  Feel free to pick and choose or discard completely.  I’d love to hear your thoughts on the matter - too.  I agree that Jeremiah is a fascinating character.

So.  Did Jeremiah have some craziness in him before the gas?

It’s a tricky question. One of the things that Gotham did really well with Jerome and Jeremiah was to set them both up as unreliable narrators.  Jerome doesn’t ever claim to have been a good child, but he does specifically deny what Jeremiah accused him of.  Jeremiah, on the other hand, says that even though he might not specifically have done what he told their mother he did – Jerome definitely wanted him dead and was going to kill him.

You’re insane.  And I tried telling mom, but she didn’t want to listen to me.  You blame me for everything that’s gone wrong in your life – but this truth is, Jerome - you were born bad.

Born bad, huh.  So that’s why you made her think that I tried to kill you.  What was it again?  I put a blade to your throat – no I tried to light you on fire

We both know you wanted to!

Yes – that was a funny story

Ok - maybe it didn’t happen exactly like that.  But I didn’t have a choice and I was right.....You killed our mother.

She did deserve it, though, after that whore hid you away she gave up on me.  Poisoned by your stories.  You turned everyone I loved against me!  My own flesh and blood!  I guess it’s just like what they say.  We could all go insane with just one bad day.

Jeremiah wants to believe there was something fundamentally wrong with Jerome.  Jerome doesn’t deny this, but says that they share the same blood, so Jeremiah must be bad too.  

Interestingly, Jerome seems to see nuance here – though.   On one hand, he says that they both have insanity in their blood. On the other hand, he specifically tells Jeremiah that he caused/worsened Jerome’s insanity by turning everyone against him.  Which is true in Jerome’s mind?  It’s hard to say.

What about what we see of Jeremiah pre-gas – does that say anything to deny or support Jerome’s accusation?

Jeremiah is restrained in some respects, not in others.  He lives concealed in a labyrinth, hidden away – but constructing an entire labyrinth as a home in the first place is pretty self-indulgent and decadent.  He hides behind a pseudonym - but it’s a showy pseudonym: Xander Wilde.  He’s quiet-spoken and controlled in his manner, but he’s visibly short-tempered and quickly irritated by Jim.  His life looks uncomfortably spartan, but we see him help himself to a generous drink from a cut-glass decanter.   There’s an odd tension to how he lives his life.

Even his clothes have this duality to them.  They could just have put him in a version of Ed’s season one geeky ‘n clever get-up, or something boring and neutral - perfect for a man who wants to disappear.

If you look, though, although he’s ostensibly buttoned-up and professional, there are clues that there’s more to him. Look at this shirt:

It’s a silky purple paisley shirt.  That is not a restrained item.  Oswald would happily wear a waistcoat along those lines.  There’s the fit, too.  To use Ed as a reference, his season one clothes were often deliberately quite ill-fitting and unflattering– which highlighted his awkwardness: sleeves and trousers were often too short, making him look like an overgrown child, reinforcing the idea that he’s not a ‘proper man’ (something that torments Ed early on)

In contrast, Jeremiah’s clothes are form-fitting.  He’s buttoned up to the neck, yes – but, he’s definitely tailored to show his body to its best advantage.  Again – you’ve got that tension: covered-up and buttoned-up, but flattering his body.  

You could argue, given his fancy schooling, that he learned about good tailoring and how to present himself, but I can guarantee none of the other wealthy boys who attended his school are donning a purple paisley shirt and a jacket with a nipped waist for an average workday.  

There’s a great article on costuming in Hannibal that talks about how his clothing is often a red flag – letting us know that there’s something much more dangerous underlying the respectable exterior.  We see this with Oswald in season one, and I’d argue it’s present with pre-gas Jeremiah.

https://ew.com/article/2015/08/29/everything-hannibal-wore-hannibal/

Jeremiah might be afraid that there’s something to what Jerome says.  Maybe, then, he’s hiding not only from Jerome, but from himself?  They’re obviously physically identical, and Jerome is apparently intelligent enough to solve Jeremiah’s labyrinths.  Imagine watching someone who looked just like you acting out constantly, being chaotic and violent and frightening.  Maybe you might start to wonder whether there’s something of that in you – if you only let yourself go?  It’s possible that Jeremiah is hiding not only from Jerome, but is also unconsciously hiding from himself, impulses he can’t or won’t acknowledge, a shadow-self – much like Ed’s mirror self.

That doesn’t have to be criminal urges, or urges that would point to insanity. But maybe he became scrupulous and highly-controlled because he was so afraid of this possibility – clamping down on even natural feelings?    His reaction to Bruce seems intense and instant.  I honestly think it’s a case of love at first sight – but it’s possibly intensified and exacerbated because he has hidden himself away for so long, seemingly denying himself any relationship outside the professional.

Ultimately, for me, I wouldn’t say he was ‘crazy’ before the gas - but I would say that he was psychologically unhealthy, way more fragile and unstable than he might appear on the surface.  I think that Jeremiah’s tight rein on himself – adopted because of his horror of his brother’s behaviour, and unconscious fear that he might be like him – created a tinderbox of repressed feelings and fears.    The poison gas then acted like a match – igniting all those repressed feeling and thoughts, and then distorted them.

Thanks for the ask, anon!  I’d love to hear your own thoughts :)

[alatismeni-theitsa]

Would it be offensive to Greek culture if one were to make Hades closer to Persephone’s age and a much younger brother to Zeus and Posideon to make a retelling of Hades and Persephone feel a bit less creepy?? I’m not trying to be rude I just had the idea and want to know if it’s worth keeping stored in the brain box

This is gonna be long, you have been warned 😄

I don’t think it would be offensive. When LO did such a big age difference it was annoying mainly for those reasons:

1) Persephone in the mythology was a goddess in her own right, probably hundreds if not thousands years old, not a sheltered teen fresh out of highschool. Now, there is no problem with making Persephone young in your story if that’s how you want to do it. It’s just that in the context of the comic it was a bit creepy. (more on that on 3 section)

2) It was creepy because the writer made it creepy.

In the mythology the gods seeked young mortal women who were MUCH younger than them. This wasn’t seen as creepy in the culture because gods weren’t held to the same moral standards as the mortals and it was withing their rights to do whatever they saw just (including stealing young women). Is it a good thing? Certainly not. But we have to examine the myths in the context of the old era, see if they hide some symbolism (Zeus showing fertility leaving many women pregnant) and recognize that they might not have been seen as entirely true by a lot of ancient Greeks - so if the morality was a questionable they didn’t care.

I mean they could be folk stories in the style of “it is said that once Apollo found a woman in the woods and he desired her...” and not as “as we all know, Apollo takes a woman from the woods every now and then so be careful, girls, because it may happen to you tommorow”. Someone correct me if I am wrong 😄 I don’t say that the gods or their stories weren’t seen as legit but how important certain myths were would probably differ from area to area or different areas could have different myths. In this context it’s difficult to set a canon and rules of morality. Hades was Persephone’s uncle and while ancient Greeks didn’t like incest, they still kept the story around. This gives me a sense that all those myths were more on the metaphorical sphere.

What Smythe did is that she took myths from another era and tried to apply a modern logic to them while keeping many scenes or similar scenes from the ancient story. In a few words, she wanted to have her cake and eat it, too. She wanted the rules of the modern setting but the actions who stayed in the old myths.

Sometimes the gods in the comic are presented as justified in their wrath because they are gods. Other times the narrative judges the characters with a modern morality, making things confusing. Hecate said to Hades “But Persephone is so young for you!“ This wouldn’t be an issue if the ancient logic was applied. Plus, Zeus and Poseidon as seen as pervs, something that is a modern thing to judge gods as. As the sense of morality in the comic is somewhat confusing, it’s natural that a lot of readers will prefer to follow the modern morality. When this happens, a relationship between a thousand year old man and a 19y/o woman is seen as immoral.

3. The story of LO constantly reminds us the age difference and the power imbalance between H and P. Readers usually want big age gaps to be addressed and they want to see some of the troubles that come with them. I don’t blame Smythe for writing those bits in. I would mostly blame her for choosing to create this imbalance in the first place. (It’s her story and she can do whatever she likes but as an audience we can say our opinion about it).

I mean, the writer chose to make Hades a rich CEO and Persephone barely having any money and in possesion of a broken phone. She chose to make Persephone Hades’ intern, giving Hades a natural power over Persephone. She chose to have Hades being the one creating a bank account for Persephone. She chose to make Persephone sheltered by her mother and unaware of how the world works.

The was already a power imbalance with Hades’ immense experience but it was enhanced in the eyes of readers by the situations mentioned above. Perhaps many readers accept such a relationship because it’s fiction but when the power imbalance is so prominent in the story that a lot of people feel uncomfortable.

About your story:

You could change the ages of the gods or maybe keep the age difference and make it seem normal for your world. I don’t believe this is bad because we talk about Greek gods here. Greek gods had a lot of mortal, young lovers in the mythology. This won’t be anything new.

Of course it depends on the context of your story. If the story is set on the ancient times it would be more fitting for people to accept such an age difference in a couple consisted by two gods. Perspective and context matter. In those days slavery was considered normal, women weren’t given as many rights as men and their place was in the house by default. Many times we wonder “but how could this be acceptabe in my story?” forgetting that the craziest things have been acceptable in our very real history.

Another thing is that, at the end of the day, you don’t need to make your story moral. You are not obliged to teach anyone anything about relationships. Ok, this might depend on your audience but even teens don’t need to be spoonfed what is good and what is bad. I had read stories about questionable characters as a teen but I recognized when something was f-ed up. It was the responsibility of society and the older people around me to teach me about morality and prepare me to consume media critically.

You have the right to say “in this world older gods have younger lovers and nobody bats an eye”. It’s true in your story because you said so and you don’t need to make a fuss about it in the narrative. You can address it once or twice and then move to the plot and themes. Hades and Persephone could have a dicussion about this and maybe they will decide to handle things in a mature and understanding way. There will be some power imbalance but the characters would try and work on this issue because they love each other. It doesn’t have to be toxic.

If you don’t feel comfortable writing a big age gap, you can change Hades’ age, as you said. I would suggest maybe changing Persephone’s age, making her older and more experienced? But this is your call. (In case Hades is 3.000 years old in the story and Persephone is 2.000 don’t worry, though :P)

It would be very helpful if you decided what the rules of your society are and how people would view such a relationship in that setting. This will determine your approach as well.

______________________________________________________________

In case this answer didn’t cover you and you want to discuss more, you can send another ask :) Have a good day!

[need-a-new-hobby]

Elephant’s Memory

Piper sat on a metal chair in front of her therapy group. It was the second time she’d asked to speak. It helped a little knowing she wasn’t alone. “Hey, I’m Piper. I’ve been coming here for about 2 weeks now. About a month ago now, I was shot by a man who has since passed away. My shoulder,” she patted it gently. “It’s fine but uhh... I still feel...vulnerable. And I’ve been trying to feel stronger. I’ve been reading umm...Brenée Brown. If you don’t know her, she’s a sociologist. She says that vulnerability isn’t winning or losing. It’s having the courage to show up and be seen when we have no control over the outcome. It’s my favourite line, even if it has nothing to do with bullets.” She scoffed. “I can’t control how or when or if I recover. But I will keep trying. Which reminds me of another quote, by uh...by a poet. S.C. Lourie. She says, some days I am a goddess, some days I am a wild child and some days I am a fragile mess. Most days I am a bit of all three. But every day, I am here, trying. It’s not very sophisticated, but it’s enough. I’m going back to work tonight and I am going to keep trying. That’s all I wanted to say.” She smiled shyly at the applause from the people in the room and got up to make a cup of tea.

In the other room, Spencer was an absolute mess. His leg was bouncing, his hair kept falling over his face and people were staring at him to start. “Hi. Um... My name's, uh, Spencer, And I'm a... I don't really know what I am.” He paused, his hands getting sweatier in his pockets. “Um...i guess I, uh-- I know I had a... A problem with Dilaudid, but, um... I stopped. Like...10 months ago I stopped. I thought it was over, But recently I'm-- I've really been... Your literature uses the term "craving." It started like a month ago. I...A--A suspect was murdered in front of me. A--A kid, And I thought that I could save the kid, But I couldn't, and...” His cell buzzed in his pocket. “Sorry. I'm sorry. I've seen a lot of that stuff before, But for some reason, that kid's face is really, uh... Stuck in my brain. You know? It's really, uh--I can't... And i... I want to forget... About him, and... I just want to escape.” His phone buzzed again. Hotch. “Sorry, I have to go. Sorry.” Spencer walked out of the room, pulling the phone to his ear. Before he said a word, he heard that voice again. The one that calmed all his nerves.

“Yeah, Rossi. I know you’re worried, but my therapist cleared me and the paperwork’s all in order...I know Dad, but I’ll be fine. I’m taking all the right steps. Trust me...No, it doesn’t hurt anymore...Don’t worry, my bike’s right here...Sure, 5 minutes.” He saw her outline turn towards the bike and he was about to call out to her-

“Reid? Reid, you there?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah Hotch, I’ll be there in a couple of minutes.”

Piper ran through security, flashing her badge. As did Spencer a few minutes later. Skidding towards her desk, she dropped her leather bag on her chair, shrugged off her jacket and sped up the stairs. Spencer followed hastily. “Sorry, I’m late.” They said, perfectly synchronised. Derek snickered. 

“Where were you two?”

Again simultaneously they answered, though this time they were different as Spencer claimed “Movies” while Piper claimed “Asleep.” Panting, Piper hugged Emily and sat in her seat between Spencer and Emily. As she tied up her hair, JJ quickly recapped.

“We've got two dead cops. The resident, Rod Norris, was DOA. They're still trying to ID the remains of the second victim, whom they believe is his 16-year-old daughter Jordan. From the condition of the remains, she would have had to have been inside the house close to the source of the blast.”

“Clearly, they used the bombing to set the officers up for an ambush.” 

“It’s also a sound strategy. The first wave draws in the officers before...” Piper trailed off.

“It's a well-established terrorist tactic. The first wave takes out civilians, the second wave takes out first responders,” Spencer added. 

“The locals are thinking terrorism. In West Bune, Texas?” Derek raised an eyebrow.

“Not exactly a tier-one target, but DHS did issue a terror alert for the border states yesterday, just due to the timing and nature of the attack-” 

“I've never heard of this place. I mean, the militia, ok, that I could see.” 

“Yeah, well, it is close to the border,” Emily noted. “It could be traffickers sending a message.” 

“Whoever it is, they gunned down two cops and blew up a teenage girl. Till they're stopped, no one in that town is safe,” Rossi said despondently.

“We need to be cautious with the locals. They've lost two of their own, They're anxious, they're scared, And they're gonna want revenge.” 

“Can you blame 'em?”

4 black SUVs rolled up to the debris of a blown-up house. As JJ introduced the group to the sheriff, Piper took in the damage to the front of the house. “First victim, Rod Norris. Manager of the chemical plant over at ibis. No arrests in 10 years since his wife left him. I can't blame her for leaving him, But it's a shame she left Jordan behind.”

“What was Jordan like?” Piper asked gently.

“Sweet girl, a bit slow.” 

“Slow? She was mentally challenged?” 

“Not quite. Special ed and all that stuff. Takes some talking to her to notice it. I think her mother leaving took its toll.” Piper nodded briefly.

They separated as Hotch, Morgan and Piper took the front of the house and Prentiss, Reid and Rossi took the inside. 

“Hit pattern says they were fired on full auto.” 

“Tight grouping for it.” 

“Single burst put them both down. That takes skill and some serious training.”

“Letts lands here, still alive, Savage falls there dead.”

“But I walk past Letts. And I shoot Lou Savage in the face when I know he's already dead. This was personal.” Derek turned his head to Bishop and raised an eyebrow as he watched her move backwards from the blood spatter.

“How far do you have to be to shoot both guys and not be affected by the blast?” At about 25 feet he told her to stop. From there, she pulled the elastic out of her hair, shaking the latter, before launching the elastic band rocketing between Morgan and Hotch, hitting Reid in the head. “Sorry!” She yelled. Reid just grimaced, rubbing the back of his head as Morgan and Hotch smiled. Spencer waited for Piper to mark the spot and run up to them before continuing. 

“They knew each other enough to know Rod Norris would enter through the back door while smoking and that Lou Savage was on duty and would respond.”

“So this isn’t terrorism. This is personal,” Piper remarked. “Rod Norris and Lou Savage were the specific targets of this attack. Sheriff, can you think of anyone with a close personal connection to Rod Norris and Lou Savage?”

“Yeah, I didn’t even think of it. Owen. Owen Savage. Lou's son was dating Jordan Norris.”

The five of them left to examine the Savage Residence, a large house flying the American flag. “How long did you know Lou Savage?” Hotch questioned as the other agents divided into the house.

“My whole life.” 

“And Deputy Savage's wife?” 

“Hope?” 

“How did she die?” 

“Drunk driver in '02. Lou was in Afghanistan. Owen lived with us until he got back.” 

“Semper fi,” Reid muttered. 

“How long was Lou Savage in the marines?” Derek asked, examining the framed photo of Deputy Savage.

“12 years. He was discharged so he could raise Owen.” 

“Is that why he resented them?” Reid turned to face the Sheriff and Piper turned from the trophy shelf, a little shocked at his bluntness.

“Pardon me?” 

“Uh, did Lou blame his wife and son for ending his career in the marines?” 

“Lou was a good man.” 

“A good man that doesn't have a single photo of his dead wife or only son anywhere in his entire house,” Reid said lifelessly. 

“I know this is hard, and if we had more time we would be more sensitive, but we don't.” 

“Hope was the drunk driver. I didn't write it up that way, But it didn't matter. Her drinking was no secret in town.” 

“Where's Owen's room?” Piper asked. 

“Right over there.” He pointed to an inner room. She muttered her thanks and walked out, lightly pulling Reid with her.

“What was that?”

“What was what?”

“A good man that doesn't have a photo of his wife or son anywhere?”

“It was the truth Pipes, this case is time-sensitive. What’s the real problem?”

“The problem is that you’re projecting your issues onto this case. Don’t do it. You have to separate your emotions or you will fall apart.” She hissed at him before rummaging through the desk. “Looks normal enough. Johnny Cash poster. James Dean’s Porsche, no James Dean, that’s not a good sign.” She connected a flash drive to the computer, quickly texting Garcia, before moving on. “Laptop’s password encrypted, Garcia should have it in no time. Smart if your dad’s a cop.”

“Assuming he cares enough to snoop through it.”

“You don’t know that, Reid.” She snapped. “Don’t do this to yourself.” She was pleading with him, he saw it in her eyes.

“You can’t talk about falling apart when you abandoned me.”

“I took a two-week leave of absence that I was entitled to. And I came back. And you have no right,” Piper spat. “Not when you didn’t call once.”

“Oh, yeah, well, what if I was falling apart and my best friend wasn’t there?”

“You have a spare key to my apartment, you have my number. I have always, always been there for you but I can’t check up on you all the time. The last time one of us did, you nearly bit her head off.” Piper’s face unwrinkled as the realisation of what she said dawned on her. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-” Morgan walked in and Reid turned around to examine the closet. 

“Gun safe is empty. What do you guys have?”

“Password to his laptop’s encrypted, wears all-black, likes Johnny Cash and a picture of James Dean’s Porsche. You’ll have to explain the pop-culture on the wall, all I can tell you otherwise is he’s lonely,” Piper spoke rapidly. “He wears black to create a barrier between himself and the outside world, provide comfort while protecting its emotions and feelings, and hide his vulnerabilities, insecurities and lack of self-confidence. Jordan probably made him feel...less vulnerable and less alone.”

“Yeah, he also blacked his mirror, sign of severely low self-esteem, no help from his dad I presume.”

“I’m gonna get some air. Have fun!” She made that polite cat face again, patting Morgan’s shoulder as she left.

“‘Kay, kid. What’d you say to her?”

“Nothing. Just back off man. I’ll figure it out.” They heard a commotion outside and rushed to the porch to see a woman in her late 30s struggling to get past an officer.

“What’s happening?” Derek murmured to Piper.

“Officer Letts’s wife. She’s blaming Owen.” They watched the scuffle on the Savages’ front lawn. 

“Did Lou's freak son shoot Byron?” She yelled.

“Go home to your kids, Sarah. The kids need you at home,” the sheriff rationally explained. 

“My children need their daddy. Send them home, you don’t need them. You know what to do. You find that little son of a bitch. You find him and do what's right.” The officer herded her away from the house as Derek turned to the four of them.

“Why do I get the feeling she's not going to be the only one with that sentiment?” Piper scoffed.

“Stay here and work the room,” Hotch ordered Derek. “Reid, Bishop and I are going to go to the high school and talk to Owen's teachers and friends. We need to get a profile and figure out where he's going.”

Piper flicked through Owen Savage’s school reports, as the guidance counsellor sat next to her. “That’s odd.” 

“What?” Hotch looked up from Reid’s copy of Jordan’s reports who’d been deemed alive by Rossi (apparently the ‘body’ in the house was just ham shoved into a pair of her jeans).

“Owen has A’s in maths and science, suggests a keen intellect in terms of umm... rational patterns which is really the essence of high school maths and science. But he has poor grades in English and History, suggesting he either a) doesn’t grasp human and social behaviours very well or b) has some kind of reading disability, maybe dyslexia or some other difficulty,” Piper looked up at them. “But then the fail in geometry indicates a severe problem with spatial relations. I don’t mean to be rude, but putting him in special ed for something as simple as bad attitude is madness. Owen is an intelligent but severely learning disabled student.”

“His standardised tests were fine, they didn’t support that kind of intelligence.”

“Not being able to understand spatial relations is a perception based problem-”

“He couldn't fill in an answer bubble any easier than he could hit a baseball,” he interrupted, frustratedly.

“...which would be why he stayed away from sports.” Piper continued.

“Sports was a sore spot with his father. I mean, he joined the wrestling team freshman year just to appease his old man, but, uh... it didn’t work out.” The counsellor’s cell buzzed and he excused himself. Piper watched him leave and then Hotch, leaving the two alone again. As Spencer paced, Piper went through Owen’s test responses.

“Piper, he was probably the smartest kid in class. He just couldn't prove it. Being the smartest kid in class Is like being the only kid in class. He missed all of it.” She was silent as he paced. He was projecting again. She knew the kind of stuff he’d been through in high school. After all, he’d graduated at 12. But she was getting angry. “He gives it everything he's got, Over and over and over again, and continues to fail. And the whole time, the whole time they tell him it's his fault. I mean, it makes sense.”

“No, it doesn’t.” She slapped the report of the desk. “There’s something that happened to him at this school, something else. An undiagnosed learning disability does not add up to this level of violence, not without severe emotional abuse. You know that. There’s another stressor, and I’m willing to bet that it’s in that wrestling team. Now, I’m going to talk to the coach. Keep your passive aggression to this room.”

“I’m not being-”

“Reid, I taught high school student for a year. I know what passive aggression looks like.” She stormed out. 

^-^

“So he was being bullied?” Piper and the coach (who looked exactly like you’d picture him) stood in the school locker room. The man was about 5′8″, wearing red shorts, a white tank and a whistle around his neck. He was slightly balding and his belly slightly protruded from his shirt.

“Yeah, seniors thought he was easy pickings. Did he set that bomb?”

“I’m not at liberty to say yet, I’m just a little concerned is all. He’s been missing for a few days and both his parents are...” She trailed off. “How was he bullied?” Her gaze returned to her notebook.

“A few boys thought it would be a good idea to have him stripped and masturbate to a camera.” Piper looked at him, eyebrows furrowed.

“And were the boys reprimanded?”

“We didn’t have proof. Owen identified them, but you couldn’t see their faces on the video.”

“Jesus, there was a video?” Her arms went limp and she licked her lips. “Let me guess, it was released on the internet too?”

“Yeah, school’s social network. Father found out too, blamed Owen for the whole thing.”

“I’d like a list of their names.”

She walked back in to see Hotch and Reid watching the tape. “The boys weren’t reprimanded. Coach said the boys were identified by Owen but couldn’t be seen on tape so they were left alone. Father found out, blamed Owen. Had to have hit a nerve, considering he only joined for his dear ole’ dad’s approval.” She glanced back as the counsellor walked back in, paling when he saw the video.

“We pulled that down the minute it went up, I swear.”

“That doesn’t explain how the culprits weren’t punished for it,” Piper retorted.

“Look, it was Owen’s word against theirs. They’d have banded together, parents will get involved, the school board, lawyers. I mean, cyber-bullying is a hot issue right now.”

“For good reason. Bullies aren’t limited to the home anymore, their taunts and teasing used to be limited to how fast you can run home after school. Clearly not the case anymore,” Piper argued calmly, pointing to the screen in front of them.

“It wouldn’t have helped Owen.”

“What did you tell him?” 

“I told him that dealing with bullies is a part of growing up.” Spencer balled his fists up, about to retort when she piped up.

“Social exclusion and ostracisation isn’t the norm and as the protector of these students, you had a responsibility to protect them. From thing like this. Public humiliation and social suicide isn’t a part of growing up.” She gritted her teeth as she spoke calmly. “If you think a child should have to go through the societal ritual of self-hatred, public degradation and survival as a part of ‘growing up’, then I’m sorry, but you shouldn’t be anywhere near a child.”

“Bishop! Take a walk.” Hotch ordered.

“No problem.” She bowed out gracefully.

“Boys have a way of sorting these things out for themselves.” 

“Yeah, they sure do. Right now, Owen's out there sorting it out with an assault rifle.” 

“Reid.” He walked out too, dropping the files at the counsellor’s feet. He joined Piper in the parking lot as he stood, leaning on her bike.

“Hey.” She said softly. “Guess I’m a hypocrite.” She gazed at the sports field. “High school isn’t ever easy for anyone.” He scoffed. “I’m sorry. I...uh... I shouldn’t have said that stuff to you. Shouldn’t have assumed you-”

“I did. I mean, I had a craving. It’s why I went to group therapy yesterday.”

“Wait, you too? Never mind, Spence, I’m sorry. I should’ve-”

“No, you were right. Earlier, I mean. You know my history, high schools and father figures and-”

“Shut up, Reid.” She smiled. “You know, I forgive you right? Always. No matter what. I left because I was lying to the team and Rossi knew. My shoulder still hurt, I hadn’t slept in a week with all the-”

“Nightmares?” He asked softly.

“Yeah.” She gulped. “I just wanted to forget everything. I would’ve bought alcohol, but it is ridiculously expensive in DC.” She laughed derisively. “But, I should’ve called.” Right then, as Piper tilted her head back to the field, tucking a lock behind her hair, Spencer noticed how beautiful she was in that moment. And in her smile I see something more beautiful than the stars. “So, what did I miss anyway that made you so mad this morning?”

“I saw a kid, the unsub, he was shot by the man who’s daughter he kidnapped.” Before he knew it, her arms were around his neck as she whispered to him.

“Jeez, Spence. I’m so sorry. I should never have left.” He smelled lavender in her hair and reminded him of hot cocoa on a cold night, but both those feelings were fleeting as she let go of him. “I shouldn’t have left you,” she whispered. “I should’ve called. I should’ve...Hotch?”

“You should’ve Hotch?”

“No, idiot, Hotch,” she chided, pointing at the school entrance. “He’s never yelled at me. Is he gonna yell at me?”

“No, I think he’s more irritated by the counsellor, for which, by the way, you are my hero.”

“Huh?”

“That talking to you gave him? About growing up? Brilliant. You’re my hero.” Piper smiled and bowed.

“Your white knight ever present.” She turned and yelped. “Jeez, Hotch. A little warning next time. Make a sound or something.”

“Emily and JJ talked to Jordan’s friend. Emphasised how Jordan wouldn’t do something like this. Kyle Borden, our latest victim by the interstate, took advantage of Jordan when she was a freshman.”

“He’s taking revenge.”

“We need to get back to the precinct. Piper, you’ll get there the fastest. Tell Morgan to come in and ask Garcia to get us access to Owen’s emails.”

“Got it boss.”

^-^

Piper was pacing on the phone with Garcia and Morgan and Rossi sat watching her go back and forth.

“We need access to Owen's e-mail, Garcia, ASAP.” 

“The kid is tech savvy, Pipes, but fret not, I am tech savvier. Is that a word? That sounds like a word. If it is a word, I'm it.” 

“D.C. time, Garcia.” 

“11:17 am.” 

“D.C. Decaf.” 

“Right.”

“And, Garcia?”

“Yes, my beloved.”

“Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind, and therefore is winged Cupid painted blind.”

“Awwww. You’re too sweet. Also I don’t know where that’s from.”

“Shakespeare, my sweet dove. Bye.”

“New girlfriend?” Rossi asked, looking up from the laptop.

“Sort of, I stole Morgan’s.”

“What,” Derek whined. “How?”

“I did the one thing you can’t do.”

“What? What magic did you sprinkle on my baby girl that she loves you more than me?”

“Shakespeare, my sweet. She’s working on getting us access and Hotch and Reid are on their way. Hotch reckons once we go through his files, we’ll be good to go with the profile. Ah, speaking of him, Hotch!” She yelled. “Come take a look at this.” Derek plugged a drive into the computer and a video flashed onscreen. Hotch saw with numb eyes as Owen Savage shot the three boys stripped to their underwear. “They’re...They’re the boys that bullied Owen.” Piper’s voice cracked as her hand found Spencer’s.

“That song Owen was playing when he did this, how did it go?” Morgan asked Reid.

Flustered. That’s how Spencer felt with Piper’s hand interlocked in his. He cleared his throat as he felt Piper let go and recited, “"There's a man going around taking names, and he decides who to free and who to blame. Everybody won't be treated all the same."

“Johnny Cash,” Rossi identified, rubbing his face with his hand. “He's acting out his revenge fantasies. The family, school, and social dynamics do seem to fit perfectly.” 

“He's not collecting names. He's collecting injustices. We need to give that profile,” Reid’s voice subtly shook.

As they gathered in front of the officers in the station, some grumbled about the use of a profile. “Once you've heard the profile, you'll understand,” JJ tried to explain, exasperated. 

“We’re wastin’ time,” the senior officer complained. “Owen’s here, and we should be knocking on doors.” 

“It's not a good idea,” Hotch advised. 

“And why is that?” 

“Because Owen's watching. He's monitoring the news. Right now, he thinks you think he's gone. He feels safe. If we start knocking on doors, he's gonna know that he's not. He's gonna feel trapped.” 

“Why the hell should we care about this little bastard's feelings?” 

“All right, we're here to help you bring in Owen Savage with minimum loss of life. The profile tells you the best way to do that.” 

“Owen Savage fits the profile of a type of school shooter known as an injustice collector. He's trying to avenge perceived wrongs,” Piper continued. 

“If he's a school shooter, why hasn't he hit the school yet?” 

“Jordan. Most of these guys are so angry and hopeless, they just want to kill as many people as possible and commit suicide. But Jordan gives him a reason to live. Otherwise he's a textbook case,” Emily answered. 

“His life was one torment after another. His teachers gave up on him, his classmates bullied him, and his father blamed him while giving him access to guns. Given these conditions, you're actually quite fortunate.” Spencer proposed cynically.

“It sounds like you're saying these victims deserved this.” 

“We're not. Nobody deserves this.” 

“But you could have prevented it.” 

“Reid, can I talk to you?” The group watched as Spencer stalked off behind Hotch. Grimly, they delivered the rest of the profile. When he walked out, she saw him storm out of the precinct. “Bishop, go with him. We need more on the kid.” Nodding, she joined Reid outside, surprised to see him seated on her loaned bike. 

“You’re sure you want the bike?” 

“Yes. Can we go, please?”

“Well, seeing as you asked so nicely.” Piper fitted the helmet carefully on her head. Piper smiled as Spencer wrapped his arms around her instinctively. “We’re here. You can open your eyes now.” Unlocking her helmet, she hung it carefully on the bike handle.

“I see why you prefer the bike. It’s liberating-”

“Don’t profile me Dr Reid. Let’s get this case over with so we can go home.” She marched into the house and plopped onto Owen’s bed. She shushed any form of protest from Reid, pointing for him to get started on the emails.

“What are you doing?”

“Vibing.” Spencer was about to retort but his brain was so confused by her, he couldn’t formulate a response. So he sat at the computer and began reading.

“Do you think-”

“All the time. I’m a good thinker, you know.”

“That’s not what I meant. Do you think-”

“Yep.”

“Will you quit that? I’m trying to ask you something.”

“Ask away.” She giggled, her hair splayed out on the bed as she stared at the ceiling.

“Thank you-”

“You’re welcome.”

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t. I think you’re right. About everything. Owen’s life was a tragedy. Some kids just have no chance.”

“You were a teacher. Did this kind of-”

“Never. Mind you, I only taught for about a year. But none of them ever- well, apart from...him. I felt guilty for weeks. I was his teacher, I was the one constant authority figure and I never even realised.” She sighed heavily and collapsed sidelong on the bed. “I was never bullied.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, but for a different reason. I figured out the only reason they messed with other kids was because they didn’t get the marks. Found out that the most popular kid in school was failing history so he couldn’t play football. So, for a price, I tutored him. 5 bucks a session until his marks pick up and if they do, he’d stop bullying. As soon as he stopped the bullying, the other kids followed. The only problem was we graduated. My little ones, Lucy and Danny, they weren’t so lucky.”

“What happened?”

“My brother’s smart. Star in debating.”

“The lawyer, right?”

“Yeah. He got picked on all the time because he had to wear glasses. Our father refused to buy contacts. And there was nothing I could do for him. Eventually, one of the kids punched him in the school parking lot as I drove in to pick him up. So I got out. Punched the kid square in the nose, couldn’t have been more than 15.”

“And?”

“Danny didn’t speak to me until I came back in the fall from Harvard. Kids had become relentless. And it was all my fault.” She shrugged. “There aren’t any strategies, Spence. No policies. The only way out is expelling the kids, that doesn’t solve the problem either, just pushes it onto someone else. There’s no way out.” She exhaled heavily.

“I was in the library, And, uh... Harper Hillman comes up to me, And she tells me that Alexa Lisben wants to meet me behind the field house. Alexa Lisben's, like... easily the prettiest girl in school.”

“Spence, you don’t have to-”

“No, I shouldn’t keep trying to forget it happened, because it did.” Spencer felt no fear in telling her what happened, feared no judgement in her voice. Because he trusted her. Enough to be vulnerable with her. “She was there. So was the entire football team. They...uh... stripped me naked and tied me to a goal post. So many kids were there, you know, just watching.”

“And no-one did a thing?” Her voice shook with the rage of a thousand hell-beasts at the audacity of a human to do something of this proportion to the gorgeous, brilliant doctor sitting in front of her.

“I begged-- I begged them to, But they just-- They just watched. And finally, they got bored, and they left. It was, like, midnight when I finally got home. And my mom didn't... Mom was having one of her episodes, So she didn't even realise I was late.”

“You never told her what happened?” 

“I never told anybody. I thought... It was one of those things that I thought If I didn't talk about it, I'd just forget. But I remember it like it was yesterday.” He closed his eyes and felt the comfort of hot cocoa and lavender again.

“Spencer.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m never leaving you again.”

“That’s it!” Piper got up as he exclaimed. She blinked a dozen times at Spencer before he explained. “Abandonment is his biggest fear. That's why he chose Jordan. He thinks she'll never leave.”

“So if we get her to leave him, he has nothing to live for. But the only person she trusts is Owen.”

“Emily can help us with that. Let’s go.”

Piper drove them back to the precinct and Rossi herded her to the couch to get some sleep, despite her valiant protests. As she closed her eyes, Hotch discussed the plan. Emily and JJ would get Eileen to make contact with Jordan’s PDA. Hopefully, she’d give them the location. When that didn’t work, they asked her to come to them. Eventually, crying in the morning, Jordan entered the precinct. Piper had wrapped her in a warm, grey blanket, slowly guiding her to the interview room. Morgan, Reid and Rossi left for Stratman’s ranch as soon as the location slipped from her tongue. They’d found Stratman’s body, left with a note saying "I'm going to return my mom's necklace." Reid had come back alone, defeated as he lay his forehead in the crook of her neck. As he recounted everything to her over a cup of coffee, something clicked in Piper’s brain. Hold on a minute she’d said as she rushed into the interview room. The question that slipped over her tongue shattered her. Did he give you the necklace? No. Before anyone could say anything, Spencer had already gone outside. No, she’d whispered. Don’t shoot, she’d yelled. They watched as Spencer empathised with Owen, and they watched the doctor wearing the cardigan slowly guide the student to the precinct, rifle dropped to the floor. He watched the student trudge away with the officer after giving Jordan his mother’s necklace and smelled that scent of hot cocoa and lavender. On the jet, he sat, gazing out the window as Piper snored softly next to him, until she gripped his wrist under the table whispering, Not him, please. Me, not him. He rubbed circles on the back of her hand until she calmed in her sleep, tranquil in the ocean of dreams.

[rkivepacks]

TITLE: i have sunshine enough to spread Pairing: taekook/kookv/vkook (Kim Taehyung & Jeon Jungkook) Rating: PG13 Genre: fluff, Mafia!AU, Mob boss! Jungkook, Innocent! Tae, Single father! Jungkook Word Count: 5,867 Trigger Warning/s: swearing,non-graphic description of injuries Cross-posted on: AO3/dtgloss

NOTES: ∟ banner by @rkivepacks​ ∟ request banner here ∟ request prompt/send commission here

∟ beta-ed by @inkedxclouds​  ♡ ∟ Prompt by fulltime-taekooker on ao3: Can you write a taekook mafia au with with big bad mob boss jk and a fluffy innocent tae all the cliche stuff :3

Summary:   “Where are your parents?” He asks. The child turns and points at Jungkook.

He assumes the child is scared in the presence of the man. If he was the child he would be too.

“Pretty Beri, I promise I will protect you. Is this man hurting you?” Taehyung asks. He learned before that in order to gain the trust and attention of kids you have to show them you are at the same level as them and look them in the eyes.

“Him?” Beri points again at Jungkook. “That’s my dad.”

“You’ll pay for this.”

Is what the well-built man in his crisp all black suit (and probably soul) says to Taehyung. He might as well call him an entity dressed in black that suddenly developed a man. A scary man.

You’ll pay for this.

Taehyung will pay for this.

Taehyung apparently will pay for something.

For what; he does not know yet.

“Ouch- mom! What was that for?” He exclaims as he rubs on the back of his right shoulder, the sting still felt ten seconds after the hit.

“I always knew your big mouth would get you in trouble! Haven’t you learned from that professor of yours? You and your temper.” His mother says, an accusatory finger pointed at him.

He knew at this point his mother’s blood pressure is rising at an alarming rate. He doesn’t blame her but he cannot blame himself either. He would retaliate but he knows it would only make it worse.

Kids these days often get reprimanded for apparently ‘talking back to your elders’ although Taehyung would then kindly explain that he’s not talking back. He’s only explaining. Calmly.

The elderlies don’t get that and would never understand and view it from his point of view but. Well.

Here goes nothing.

“I’m only saying-” He starts but gets cut off.

“Stop talking back! If you get jumped on the streets, you’re on your own.” His mother cut him off, effectively making him heave a sigh and pull his mouth into a straight line, eyes closed.

He looks at Namjoon for help. His cousin just shrugs his shoulders before avoiding his gaze.

So much for sharing blood.

His mother already left the two of them alone but he knows that does not mean he’s off the hook.Not until he has paid for whatever it is he should pay for, anyway.

He knows Namjoon is just waiting for the right timing to laugh at him, if the puffed cheeks, wavering eyes and huffing shoulder is anything to go by.

“Close your shop.” He throws the pillow at Namjoon who bellows and grunts.

He thinks back to the scenario after lunch at work today.

Taehyung and Namjoon are both manning the gallery where Taehyung works more as the curator and sometimes when he’s bored, he’s just a menace.

Today was supposed to be a normal day. It started fairly well, they’ve had the scheduled meetings in the morning, the occasional inquiries for school trips and a slightly uneventful lunch with Namjoon.

It comes after lunch.

He sees a man dressed in a black formal suit the same built as Namjoon talk to the latter. The only difference is that Namjoon lives the part of a gallery curator, in his work clothes which consists of his shirts and polos that he uses for daily wear. The other man however, is dressed in all black. He assumes the man is closely categorized as a high-profile person.

Namjoon is a smart and reasonable man. They’ve had their fair share of meticulous and borderline customers with strong personalities that Taehyung calls rude but this man his cousin is currently dealing with, is clearly attempting to show them that he’s in charge-- with the way he almost towers over Namjoon and the intimidating stare he gives off. Taehyung notices they are the same height but he admits the rude man is more broad than Namjoon.

“I’ve explained to you why. Just pay the refund and I’ll leave you and your pretty paintings alone.” The rude client says. Taehyung scoffs. Does this person not know how transactions work?

“I apologize but I already explained that the transaction is way past the period stated in our refund policy. Also, the painting has been damaged.” Namjoon explains and Taehyung’s pretty sure he’s heard of it three minutes ago and Namjoon almost replies to the client as if it’s obvious. Spoiler: it is.

“My boss doesn’t care if there’s damage. I’ll only repeat myself one more time; refund or else-”

“The painting is damaged in the lower left part. I’m not sure if you are knowledgeable in this field but I’m pretty sure most galleries would not grant a refund in that case. You purchased the painting two weeks ago and so it’s way passed the ten days refund policy. If you attempted to return it at least three days ago, I’m sure we would have less problems here.” Taehyung butts in.

“I’m not speaking to you.” The (rude) client sneers.

“I am, though.” Taehyung replies back nonchalantly, as if oblivious to the threat the man has been implying. “We have students coming in in thirty mintues. Make sure you’ve understood well by then.” He smiles innocently at the man.

“What’s taking you so long to return it?” Another man dressed in all black steps closer to them. Taehyung has seen the man surveying the gallery so he did not assume he came together with the rude man.

Is there some sort of an event around the block?

“Are you the boss?” Taehyung turns to ‘the boss’, innocence still dripping in his tone.

The man does not reply and instead looks him up and down with an eyebrow slightly raised.

“Assuming you are their boss, sir, please explain to your subordinate our gallery policy.” He requests and pouts slightly at the man.

“Who are you?” The client sneers and reaches into his coat pocket but his apparent boss raises a hand as if to signal him to stop.

“We are the owners of this gallery.” Taehyung states as if the men in front of them have been oblivious to the fact.

After a lull of silence with just the boss piercing his eyes at Taehyung throughout the whole ordeal, “I’m sorry, my subordinate is used to getting his way.” He speaks. “We’ll take the painting.” At that, he murmurs to the rude man who nods and looks expectantly at Taehyung. He does not say anything so Namjoon takes charge and says, “Come with me to the office.” Namjoon tilts his head and allows the client to follow suit.

“So you own this?” The man asks, stepping closer to Taehyung, almost crowding him.

“Yes I do.” Taehyung smiles at the man, proud of his gallery and his little revelation. “And what is your work, sir?” He asks.

“None of your business.”

“It is, I think,” Taehyung trails, his face full of wonder. “Especially if you are in mine.” Taehyung explains as if he was conversing with an eight year old.

The man scoffs and shifts on his feet. Seriously, what’s taking Kim so long?

Finally, finally , Kim comes out with Namjoon, carrying with him the painting half of his height. He huffs at the painting before turning to Taehyung.

He turns to walk away seeing Kim is already trailing behind him when a voice calls out to him. “Sir, next time, read the terms and conditions.” Taehyung informs and for the nth time the man scoffs.

His footsteps echo around the walls of the gallery, seemingly loud on Taehyung’s ears as he crowds into his space again. Suddenly, before he knows it, the man’s almost chest to chest with him, leaning close to his left ear.

“You’ll pay for this.”

Days at the gallery sometimes get boring. There are times when they only get whiffs of calls and inquiries, sometimes only a handful of them. At times there are scheduled school trips ranging from kids between middle school to college students sent to the gallery for an out of the classroom experience.

This day ends after Taehyung has finished rounding up the high school students sent for an experience at the gallery. He is tired-- students are rowdy, they are at the edge where most of the time they won’t take art seriously and would find humor in it instead of delving into its technicalities.

“Taehyung!” One of the curators at the gallery who sometimes fills in for Namjoon butts her head into one of the back offices looking for a specific brown haired boy.

“Yes, Ah Hee?”

“There is a man at the front asking for you. Says you know him.” Ah Hee says and leaves without a word.

Taehyung sighs before putting his phone back into his pocket. When he gets to the reception area of the gallery, he stops in his tracks.

It’s him.

And Taehyung is annoyed.

“I don’t know him.” He scowls before turning back.

“I told you you’ll pay for it.” The man says after him, hands inside the pocket of his black slacks, standing behind Taehyung in a stance that screams confidence and elite.

“I’m poor.” He huffs.

“No you aren’t.” The man heaves out a laugh.

“You wouldn’t know.”

“I do. Kim Taehyung.”

“What the fuck do you want?” Taehyung stomps closer to the man, furious.

“I want a lot. Do you want to be one of them?” The man smirks.

“I’m sorry but I don’t even know who you are, honestly.” Taehyung shrugs.

“If I tell you my name you’ll be more indebted to me.” He fakes concern and a gasp. “Maybe that’s a good idea? More chances of me bugging you.” He smiles. “Do you have an office? I prefer to keep my personal matters privately.” He looks around.

“I do have one, for your information. My mother told me to not talk to strangers, though.” Taehyung bites back.

“Your mother is sweet.” He smiles creepily. “So, is this your office?” He walks straight to the room he saw Taehyung walk out from and enters it without a word.

This man is frustrating . Taehyung thinks. He deems it important to follow the man into his own office before he wreaks havoc. Kids these days.

“I can sue you for being in my property.” Taehyung slams the door close, sneering at the man who was leaning his weight onto the edge of the table, a leg propped up to support himself and looking like he owns the gallery.

“You’re in my property.” The man shrugs.

“Since when is this your gallery? You don’t even know when to refund, no offense.”

“No. Let me make this clear. You are literally stepping into my property. You and your gallery which was built on my land.”

“Who are you?” Taehyung squints his eyes at the man.

“Jeon Jungkook. I would not want to give you too much personal information of mine because you know, I don’t put out on the first date.” Taehyung scoffs. “But, so you don’t spend the rest of your night thinking about me, the person you are paying your rent to for this gallery pays me which means I own this property.”

Taehyung can feel an oncoming headache. Does this man expect him to put out his dollars to pay the rent? He does not even know organizations like this still exist and have only known of them in books.

“I told you already, I am poor. My family is poor and the gallery only provides enough for me and my family.” Taehyung explains, exasperated.

“Don’t worry, I’m not gonna mooch you off your money. I do have other things I need, though.”

With that, Jungkook leaves the room and Taehyung is left with his own thoughts about his words. What could a man, who claims that he owns the property and assuming he’s filthy rich, need from a curator?

Taehyung hopes Jungkook does not call him to curate all the illegal doings he has going on or worse- dead bodies.

He shudders at the thought.

Gallery shifts are usually normal.They still are. The only difference is that while everything is normal, his mood is certainly not.He gets pissed, embarrassed and furious at times.The first instance was when flower stands of lilies and chrysanthemums waiting for him at the entrance of the gallery.Taehyung loves flowers and he does find lilies beautiful. However, he associates flower stands with funeral although it is also used on other occasions. Currently there are two positioned by the entrance, donned with a ribbon that congratulates the gallery as if it is on its gala night.He’s pretty sure who sent the flowers and half of him applauds this person for sending the flowers way earlier-- at least before he or Namjoon and Ah Hee come in-- so he can’t make a big fuss of sending the flowers back to whoever who sent it.

Taehyung gets pissed at the wit of that man.

He’s also pissed at the fact that he can’t seem to throw the flowers away.

The next delivery was a single stem of sunflower wrapped in a bouquet, coupled with chicken and pasta. It came with an envelope that reads an invite as a plus one to a black tie event.

The invitation also came with a phone number.

He doesn’t attend the party and doesn’t text the number.

On a Friday there were no deliveries but there was a text message.

[Unknown] I see you won’t text me first.

I was waiting for you.

[Taehyung] I’m sorry to hear that ♥

Thankfully, Taehyng had a peaceful weekend.

And with the weekend, the peace went away on Monday morning.

He has been ready to wrestle kids today who are scheduled to come to the gallery. If he thought high schoolers were bad, seven years old were worse.

Kids.

The appointment comes and oh, Taehyung is livid.

He doesn’t see a flock of kids. Instead, there is only one.

And Jeon Jungkook.

Taehyung is fond of kids. Which is why his heart hurts seeing that a child had to be in the middle of this. He doesn’t like hurting people but maybe Jungkook could be an exception.

“Hello, I’m Taetae! What is your name?” He clears his throat and crouches down to let the kid know his attention is all to him and not to the creature looming near them.

“I’m Beri. Because my daddy said my cheeks are red like strawberries.” The kid looks up to him. “Are you my teacher today?”

“Maybe? It’s a secret, though.” He whispers and the child giggles.

“First, before we start. Tell me your secret also.” He almost kneels to the ground to be eye-level with the child. He is a man on a mission and he will not let that evil man terrorize children.

“Okay.”

“Where are your parents?” He asks. The child turns and points at Jungkook.

He assumes the child is scared in the presence of the man. If he was the child he would be too.

“Pretty Beri, I promise I will protect you. Is this man hurting you?” Taehyung asks. He learned before that in order to gain the trust and attention of kids you have to show them you are at the same level as them and look them in the eyes.

“Him?” Beri points again at Jungkook. “That’s my dad.”

Taehyung sighs and stands up on his feet. “Is Beri your daughter?” He asks Jungkook, keeping a friendly smile so as not to scare the kid.

“She told you that, already…” Jungkook replies. “I’m not evil!” He adamantly says.

Taehyung chooses to ignore Jungkook and carefully takes Beri’s hands into his. He goes on to tour Beri around the gallery. Trying his best to explain to her the paintings in a way that she could understand. He also tries to keep his distance from Jungkook as well. You never know when danger is just around the corner.

He also takes pictures of Beri in front of artworks that peak her interests. All the while, Jungkook has been following behind who has been listening to Taehyung’s explanation but pretending not to.

When they finish the last stop at the gallery, Beri skips her way to her apparent father. Taehyung is still skeptical about this but if the child says so.

“I still don’t trust you but I trust Beri.” He says to Jungkook.

“Your faith in me is astounding, really. I’ll send you a birth certificate if I have to. Good night, Taetae.” Jungkook says before helping Beri into the car.

With that, he walks away from the two but not before saying goodbye to Beri and promising to see each other again (only her and not her father. He swears).

[Jungkook] sent a photo

Taehyung loads the file and there it is.

Beri’s birth certificate.

(For safety measures, Taehyung zooms into the photo to see if it’s fabricated. It’s not.)

Sadly, Taehyung could not always see Beri as often as he wanted to and as he originally expected. He has been busy with the gallery and working on his commissions. The gallery is not that much entertaining for a seven year old either.There are not many reasons for her to be there four times a week.

So no Beri also means no Jungkook.

It was surprising at first, and frankly for Taehyung, a little scandalous as he caught himself off-guard thinking of Jungkook in the first place. He thought maybe it is not bad at all to see Jungkook in the gallery.

For Beri. Yes. He convinces himself.

At the end of the day, Jungkook is still affiliated with the mafia. Whether he is a good father or not to Beri, he is still a mafia boss and with Jungkook comes the danger with being in that line of work.

He fears for Beri’s safety. (just Beri, he swears).

He gets reminded of his worries one time, when Beri comes barrelling into the gallery at the sight of him. The little girl came with an unknown woman who introduces herself as her babysitter and that her boss Jungkook sent the two of them to the gallery.

He entertains Beri the best he can in between his actual work.

Later that night, the babysitter tells him that Jungkook wishes for his presence and demands for him to come with them.

When they arrive at home, Taehyung doesn’t get much time to marvel at the interior as Beri hurriedly runs further into the house as she calls for her dad. There are other men who are dressed and carry themselves the way Jungkook did in the living room and at that, the babysitter swiftly lures the energetic child into her room, excusing herself to Jungkook.

Taehyung shifts uncomfortably in his place, looking around and just nodding to the men as a greeting. Thankfully, Jungkook emerges from a room.

“Taehyung.” Jungkook almost startles upon seeing the brown haired boy.

However the sight of Jungkook was not the one that surprised him. It’s the blotches of dried liquid that reeks of blood on his dark dress shirt. It’s difficult to see even with the light but he knows what he sees.

It clicks to him that he probably sent Beri to the gallery so the child won’t get to see his father in this state.

Jungkook notices the apprehension in Taehyung’s face and looks at his hands that he is rid of blood but still stained by it (if the reddish nails were anything to go by) and hurriedly assures him, “It’s not mine, don’t worry.”

“I wasn’t-” Taehyung gapes and clears his throat, caught off guard. “You said you want to talk to me.”

“Yeah. Come with me to the office.” At that, he follows Jungkook to where he emerged from.

“I’m sure you know already and I don’t have to say it. But thank you for entertaining Beri while I was gone.” He talks to Taehyung with his back turned to him, focusing instead on his bloodied shirt as if looking at it will make it go away. He curses and opts to unbutton them instead. “I don’t want her seeing me do the job so I try to distract her sometimes but it’s difficult with her being homeschooled and there’s not much for her to go to.” Until I knew you. He doesn’t say.

“I told her I’d be hanging out with friends and asked for her permission if I can do that.” He chuckles and Taehyung bites at his lower lip. “I can’t exactly tell her that her father would be going out to possibly knock someone out cold.”

“You’re a great father.” Taehyung says instead.

Jungkook just shrugs and excuses himself to the restroom and later on comes out much cleaner and adorned in a new top.

“I just wanted to invite you over to thank you. I’d call you so it’s not impersonal but I’m sure you would pretend to not answer the phone.”

Taehyung chuckles.“Yeah. I’d rather ignore you altogether than have you frustrate me and I’ll end up screaming at you.” He replies and they both chuckle.

“You’re a nice person, Taetae.” Jungkook whispers almost to himself.

A shriek of daddy! can be heard from outside making the two of them turn to the sound and they do not spend more time in that room as Jungkook ushers both of them out to get to the little girl. Beri jumps at the sight of her father and Taehyung tries not to think of the scenario when Jungkook greets her with his bloodied clothes.

“Is Taetae eating with us? He should try the macaroonis.” Beri asks her father.

Jungkook chuckles. “She confuses macaroni, macaroons and macarons with each other. But she wants you to eat macaroons.” He tells Taehyung.

He did end up having dinner with the Jeons and Jungkook offered to drive him home but he refused. He had already booked a ride anyway.

When he gets home, he gets another round of earchatter from his mother.

“You, get home early. At this point I will just assume that that man killed you already.” His mother lectured.

As he has been spending time with Jungkook and Beri. Maybe he is in fact, paying for it already.

Jungkook doesn’t always try to send Beri to the gallery but when he does, he regrets it. Beri spending the whole afternoon at the gallery means Jungkook is somewhere in the city or even the outskirts doing business, knowing full well that by doing so, his one foot is already buried deep down his grave.

He assumes it’s safe to call them friends and he could worry. If not, he’d just worry for Beri’s sake.

Jungkook also tries to not send Beri to the gallery as Taehyung has his own work to get to. But at times the child could be moody and there’s nothing adults could do but move at her every whims.

As for today, instead of Taehyung coming with Beri to make sure she’s home safely, Jungkook visits the gallery instead.

It’s a record seeing him there again, and not bloodied, at that. He finds Taehyung and Beri in Taehyung’s work room. The two were both busy in their own artworks. Taehyung is working on his commission while Beri’s working on her own sheet of paper to keep her attention in place.

Jungkook marvels at the sight of Beri being focused on her art and his eyes shift to Taehyung who is in his own little world but makes sure he has his attention Beri’s well-being also.

He figures he likes seeing the two together and seeing himself with them doesn’t seem bad at all.

[Jungkook]

Are you at home?

[Taehyung] Still at the studio just fixing up.

[Jungkook] I’ll go there.

[Taehyung] No!!!! I’m finished already. There’s no need. I’ll come there instead?

In almost an hour, Taehyung reaches their house, traces of exhaustion visible at his face and even his body.

“I prepared iced coffee for you.” Jungkook pulls him as soon as he enters through the foyer into the living room.

The apartment was silent, minus the white noise in the apartment. Taehyung mutters a ‘thanks’ as Jungkook sits him down on the sofa, letting him drop his bag on one of the stools.

“I think my legs are dead from crouching down for hours. Stupid painting.” Taehyung pouts.

Jungkook slips out a giggle and Taehyung realizes it’s one of the rare Jungkook things he’ll probably have the privilege of experiencing.

“Do you want me to massage it?” Jungkook asks but before Taehyung can reply, Jungkook’s already lifting his left leg up over his thighs before kneading softly down the expanse of his leg. Taehyung leans back, almost slipping out a moan out of exhaustion.

“Good?” Jungkook asks and Taehyung nods, still pouting.

“Does being with me scare you, Tae?” Jungkook asks and Taehyung hears the seriousness in his tone.

“Sometimes. Especially when I get reminded of it, seeing you bloody.” Taehyung looks down on his coffee.

“I mean, in my defense, that’s not my blood.” Jungkook grins sheepishly.

“Doesn’t really help.” Taehyung pouts at him.

And then it dawns on Jungkook.

“Wait, I don’t think we’re on the same page. When I say it’s not my blood, I also mean it’s not my fault too. I’m not as violent as you think, Tae.” Jungkook chuckles.

It dawns on Taehyung and Jungkook sees the realization set on him. “It’s still blood!” Taehyung shudders.

“Yeah but that day, one of my men got hurt so I had to help. That’s the reason why I had my men; so they can take care of the people and I’ll handle the money.” Taehyung nods in understanding but dodges Jungkook’s teasing jabs.

“Tae, I actually want to tell you something…” Jungkook trails off and his voice matches the pace of his hand on Taehyung’s leg.

“Oh? Okay. Is it about Beri?” Taehyung looks up at him with eyes wide.

“Beri? Ah, no. It… it’s about me.” Jungkook sighs. “This is kind of awkward for me and also I’m nervous-don’t look at me like that!” Jungkook gapes at Taehyung who was trying not to laugh at his rambling.

“Wait- can I just do it? I don’t even know how to handle the situation if it gets awkward.” Jungkook continues rumbling.

“If it will let you feel at ease, Guk, I understand.”

“Promise?”

Taehyung chuckles and nods.

Jungkook sighs before slamming his lips into Taehyung’s, the impact making him hit harder than intended and pushing Taehyung back on his seat slightly. Jungkook supports Taehyung’s head with a hand on his hair, pulling away slowly but not too far.

This time, he repeats his actions gently, nipping at the bottom of Taehyung’s lips.

They pull away from each other slowly for the second time, assessing the look on each other’s face.

“So, what do you want to tell me?” Taehyung asks and Jungkook chuckles before pressing another peck to Taehyung’s lips.

“You’re so annoying.” Jungkook chuckles before pinching his cheeks.

“Jungkook.”

“Hm.”

“I know we just crossed something that’s a one way street. Whatever this is we can’t go back to what we were before. I’ll tell you I get scared. But I also want you to know that my feelings are greater than my fears.” Taehyung whispers seriously before placing a soft kiss to Jungkook’s lips.

“I know. I’ll try not to make you feel scared.” Jungkook hugs him.

Suddenly, Taehyung stands up and reaches out for the empty coffee mugs.

“Wait, where are you going?” Jungkook asks, baffled.

“Cleaning? It’s late.” Taehyung answers seemingly obliviously and proceeds to walk to the kitchen.

“Damn-we were having a moment.” Jungkook groans and stands up to stretch before following Taehyung to the kitchen.

The morning after, Beri was ecstatic to see Taehyung at their breakfast table. If she realizes with her young mind that he stayed over the night before, she doesn’t point it out.

Taehyung insists on cooking a hearty breakfast since he found out from Beri that Jungkook makes sure that they eat heavy breakfast which always consists of fried rice coupled with meat or eggs rotationally.

Beri’s having fun being in charge of dolling up the waffles with whip creams and chocolates topped with fruits of their choice.

When they finish, Jungkook drives him home so he’ll be able to change clothes before going to the gallery.

“Listen, my mom knows about our first meeting. When you threatened me and my cousin.” Taehyung breathes out once they arrive at the gate while they stay seated inside the car.

“So does that mean…” Jungkook sighs.

“Well- she knows about that. But she doesn’t know it’s you.” Taehyung smiles at him. “Let’s go inside, I’ll be late.” Taehyung proceeds to close the door and waits for Jungkook to do the same, waiting for the latter in front of the door.

Jungkook wishes Taehyung wouldn’t let him wait in the living room to avoid awkward confrontation with his family but he doesn’t have it in him to tell the other that he’ll just be waiting in the car instead.

Luckily, Taehyung ends his internal warfare. “Just wait in my room. My mom’s going to suffer from heart attack if she sees a stranger in the morning and she’ll think you’re the grim reaper.” Taehyung says, glancing at his usual black attire before turning to walk to his room.

When Taehyung emerges from his shower, he’s already dressed and ready to go, minus his work bag that he’s currently stuffing his wallet in. With his beckoning, the two exit Taehyung’s room to see that his family had been awake at the time they were in their room.

Jungkook walks behind Taehyung for good measure and because he was slightly offended with the latter’s remark that he’s fitting for the grim reaper look and might give people a jumpscare with his presence.

However, when the two steps into the kitchen, they hear a gasp. “You!” With eyes wide, the two look at Namjoon who’s sporting the same expression on his face. With the sudden commotion, his mother turns around to look at the couple. “You’re the one who threatened Taehyung!” Namjoon keeps a pointed finger at the two.

Jungkook and Taehyung keep seeing each other. There are still times when Beri had to be with Taehyung at times and other times Taehyung would leave the gallery on Namjoon’s care to be at Jeon's residence and distract Beri.

The minor scuffle that morning was quickly resolved when Taehyung and Jungkook quickly explained what happened, and Jungkook had apologized to Namjoon and his mother for the worries he might have caused, although Taehyung insisted there were none.

Jungkook remains busy with his work and Taehyung with his, but when they’re not, they spend time together. If Jungkook can, he’ll be the one who will drive to the gallery. Some days, he visits alone to spend at least lunch or dinner with Taehyung.

Some nights Taehyung gets to spend with Jungkook, somewhere in between his sheets where they proclaim their love for each other.

In whispers Jungkook tells Taehyung how much he adores Taehyung, and Taehyung traces the words he’d be too shy to even mumble to Jungkook and the words he wants to do to him are said not louder than whispers.

Taehyung tries hard not to meddle with Jungkook’s business-- they both do. Some questions are better off unanswered. He learned from an instance when Jungkook had to take care of his business and came back home bloodied. At first Taehyung felt relieved; Jungkook always reassures him that the blood on his hands is not his and that’s fine. Everything is good as long as he knows Jungkook is safe.

That night however, he knew that the uneasiness he feels in his stomach accounts to something. He always trusted his senses. It all pointed out to an injured Jungkook who was trying his best not to alert Taehyung and Beri of his presence that late night. Taehyung had managed to put Beri to bed luckily, but when he heard movements from the kitchen his heart almost dropped to the floor.

There is Jungkook, attending to the gnash on the back of his arm. He’s frozen in his position, eyes focused on his lover who was lowly hissing in pain as he disinfects his wound.

Taehyung clears his throat, alerting Jungkook of his presence and the latter looks up, surprised at the presence. “I’m sorry.” Jungkook whispers and puts his attention back to his wound.

Taehyung walks closer and gauges the wound before preparing another pad dabbed with a disinfectant, and lightly applying it on the wound.

“You don’t have to help, Tae. You don’t like seeing wounds.” Jungkook says, his tone understanding.

“I don’t. But I also don’t want to leave you here in pain.” Taehyung keeps his voice low. The last thing they want is to wake Beri up and let her see her dad in this state.

“I know I said I won’t let a piece of my hair into your.... Business. I don’t want this to be a normal occurrence here. I don’t expect you to drop this lifestyle just so I can sleep peacefully at night. I’ll just have to trust your words and know you’ll try to be safe.” Taehyung finishes wrapping the wound and packs the first aid kit, avoiding looking up at Jungkook.

He doesn’t say anything. Jungkook knows Taehyung fears more than he admits. They’ve talked about how dangerous it is just to be associated with him, let alone be in his life. He knows seeing him in this state only amplifies his fears that Taehyung tries hard to not think about too much. His words would be appreciated by Taehyung; he always does appreciate every little thing, but he chose to stay silent. Instead, he cradles Taehyung’s face in his hands, tilting his head before pressing a kiss to Taehyung’s lips.

They also have their bad days, when Jungkook gets too heated with business matters and his head is too deep in it. He’s only human and sometimes slips. They both are. They get too pissed at each other, they have spent some nights where they went to sleep trying to ignore the other. They try to mend what goes wrong. They’ve invented too much into their relationship to let a small thing ruin it for them.

They do have good days, more so than the bad ones. At the end of the day, Jungkook goes home safely and his reward is the smile and a welcoming kiss as he wraps himself in his lover’s arms. Words need not to be said, they already know it just from how they try to let the other know how much they appreciate and love each other.

With Taehyung around, Jungkook gets to spend more time with Beri and him. More mornings and on some rare days, the whole day itself, they are together. They spend it hanging out in the gallery looking at the artworks or making one. They spend it in the kitchen trying out recipes Jungkook sees on youtube. And at night, when Beri gets too exhausted and retreats to her room, the two of them end their day together in front of the TV until one of them pulls the other to the bathtub, filling it with soap. Jungkook wraps an arm around Taehyung as they stay seated in the relaxing water, as if he’s protecting Taehyung from the slowly dropping temperature of the room. And Taehyung, smiles to himself knowing he’s been protected from things far more dangerous than cold water.

Disclaimer:  This work is solely from the idea of the author. Should there be similarities with the works of other respected artists are purely unintentional. This also do not reflect on the real lives of the artists portrayed in this work. Comments, suggestions and any other concerns are accepted in my inbox. Thank you!  ©  AO3/dtgloss