#wait actually maybe shes got Alzheimers

[dubiousdisco]

My mom keeps trying to create a version of me in her head that is so cunning and evil and is always doing little bizarre things to make her day worse, and honestly i wish i had that energy to be always plotting her downfall but i'm here thinking about video games

[senipsenipsenip]

The Pines family sat at the table, quietly eating their breakfast, when Mabel slammed her hands on the table and shouted “KERMIT THE FROG”.

Dipper leapt forward to right his orange juice glass, gathering nearby napkins to sop up the puddle. “What?”

“Kermit the frog! He plays the banjo!”

“Yyyyes?”

Ford raised his hand. “Who’s Kermit the Frog?”

Stan snapped his head up from his plate. “Who’s Kermit the Frog? The Muppets, Pointdexter, you were around for The Muppet Show. They had a movie and everything.”

Ford frowned. “Muppets.”

“Yeah, they’re a riot! There’s this Bear whose got some great puns and this pig who really know how to throw a punch. You’d love it, they’ve even got a scientist!”

Ford raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t realize you were such a fan of children’s television.”

“Children?!”

Dipper stirred his cereal. “I’m just impressed you remember all that. Yesterday you forgot you were married.”

“That’s because The Muppets are forever!” Mabel exclaimed.

“Wait, Stanley you were married?”

“Yep. Actually, unless I’m forgetting a divorce, I might still be married.”

“You didn’t,” Mabel chirped. “I’d have it on my Romance Chart if you did. You’ve missed a lot of anniversaries.”

“So has he!” Stan argued. “I’m not the only bad husband here!”

Ford spluttered. “Husband?”

Dipper frowned. “I think we’re getting a little too far away from why Mabel screamed Kermit the Frog and knocked my orange juice over.”

Mabel nodded. “Right, so, I was thinking of Mr. McGucket -

“Stanley you have a husband?“

“I was thinking of Mr. McGucket,” Mabel interrupted. “And how he could maybe help around the Shack. And he plays banjo! He could play banjo and people could put money in his lil banjo case like a real musician.”

At the mention of money, Stan leaned forward.

“But like, no one knows banjo music,” Mabel continued. “So I was like, maybe pop hits banjo? But then BOOM! Kermit the Frog! People love that frog. He could play the rainbow song. He’d be a hit!”

“Interesting,” Stan muttered. “Preying on people’s nostalgia to milk them for cash. I love it!”

Ford hummed. “Actually, that’s not a bad idea, Mabel. Activities like playing musical instruments have been proven to help patients with Alzheimers and dementia. Not that Fiddleford’s condition has the same root cause, but it may prove beneficial to memory recovery.”

“Eugh, don’t ruin this for me.”

“If playing an instrument helps with memory loss, maybe Grunkle Stan should learn an instrument,” Dipper suggested.

“Ooo!” Mabel squealed. “What about guitar? Or the piano? OH!” She clutched Stan’s arm with a fervor. “The triangle!”

Ford grimaced. “Maybe not that one.”

“Sorry, kid. I’m not exactly a music guy,” Stan shrugged out of Mabel’s grasp. “Let’s leave that to the professionals.”

Mabel frowned, but let the topic go.

Ford stood from the table. “Well, I happen to be visiting Fiddleford this afternoon. I can broach the topic and see what he thinks.”

Fiddleford, as it turns out, loved the idea. To the surprise of everyone, Fiddleford admitted that he had always wanted to play in a jugband when he was younger, but could never get over his stage fright enough to audition for the local band. Then he went off to college and then…everything else.

“Maybe I zapped away that scared bit enough to play!” he had cackled, knocking at the side of his head with his knuckles.

It was settled. “Fiddlin’ Fridays at the Mystery Shack with Fiddleford McGucket”. Dipper tried to point out the title didn’t make sense since it was a banjo, not a fiddle. Stan argued that “customers are suckers for alliteration”. The set up was just Fiddleford dragging an old rocking chair onto the porch and opening up his banjo case. Mabel had made a large glittery banner, but it was quickly absconded by Fiddleford’s raccoon.

“Tell your wife to give me back my banner!” Mabel had yelled, chasing the raccoon into the bushes.

“Ex-wife,” Fiddleford sighed sadly. “Apparently I was too emotionally available.”

Ford pulled at his hair. “Did everyone get married without telling me?”

“Excuse me?” A voice piped up. Fiddleford and Ford turned to see a little boy standing at the bottom of the porch. He was dressed in hiking clothes that were obviously new. In the distance, a young woman was unstrapping a baby from its seat in an SUV. Obviously city folk coming to the “wilderness” for the first time.

“Are you a real hillbilly?” The boy asked. Suddenly the door slammed open, Mr. Mystery striding through, eyepatch in place.

“Sure is!” Stan grinned. “Our very own genuine hillbilly just waiting to play you a tune! All you gotta do is put some of your mom’s money in his case there.”

The little boy’s eyes widened, turning around to race towards his mother.

“Stanley,” Ford admonished. “Fiddleford isn’t some show monkey to throw money at.”

“During work hours he is.” Stan turned to Fiddleford. “So, did Mabel teach you that song she was so excited about?”

Fiddleford sat frozen, watching the little boy yank at his mothers pants to try and get her attention, the baby beginning to fuss.

“Well…” Fiddleford cleared his throat. “Some good news and bad news fellas.”

Ford furrowed his brows. “What is it?”

“Good news is, my mind ain’t all broken.” Fiddleford hugged his banjo and turned to look up at Ford. “Bad news is I knows it ‘cause I still got stage fright.”

Stan scoffed. “Stage fright? C’mon it’s one kid and a couple o’ city slickers who would probably think you playing three wrong notes and spitting is ‘authentic’.”

“Stanley, be supportive.”

“I am! Look I’ve been at this job forever. All you gotta do is smile and if something goes wrong, you blame a ghost or something. They eat that up.”

Fiddleford shook his head. “But this is music. If’n I mess up music, ‘specially somethin’ they know. Music is real special to people, I can’t spoil it.”

Ford knelt down next to Fiddleford’s chair. “You don’t have to play that song Fiddleford. You don’t have to play at all.”

Fiddleford looked anxiously between Ford and the family. It seemed the little boy had finally gotten his mother’s attention and was excitedly pointing toward the porch.

“I…” Fiddleford shook his head. “I can’t let the little ‘uns down. ‘Specially not those ones.” As he said this, he gestured with his chin towards the other end of the porch where Dipper and Mabel sat bickering in lawn chairs. Mabel had returned from her raccoon chase covered in twigs and holding a surprisingly docile raccoon. Dipper was leaning away from the pair while trying to convince Mabel to stop feeding it gummy worms before it developed a taste for human food and tried breaking into the Shack.

Ford's gaze drifted to the twins. "Alright," he relented. "But you still don't have to play Mabel's song."

Fiddleford bowed his head.

"Yet!" Ford offered. "Not yet. She'll understand I'm sure."

Fiddleford frowned, looking unconvinced.

"Of course not yet!" Stan interjected. "You can't go playing the grand finale right out of the gate! You gotta warm 'em up first, keep 'em wanting more." Stan slapped his hand on Fiddleford's back. "If you give 'em what they want right away, they won't come back! Hold that one off until tomorrow or...uh...next week. Tease it or something."

Stan had started rubbing the back of his neck with his other hand as he spoke, a tell Ford was quick to recognize. It was the same one he did when he would "begrudgingly" let Mabel choose the movie for movie night or let Dipper rope him into another game of Dungeons, Dungeons, and More Dungeons. Covering the most vulnerable part of his body while he let his emotions go soft.

Fiddleford seemed to perk up at Stan's words.

"Well," Fiddleford offered. "I do know some proper jugband music. Only, it don't have the same ring to it without a jug."

"We've got a jug!" Mabel cheered from the other side of the porch. It seemed the raccoon argument had reached enough of a truce that the twins were once again paying attention to the concert. "I used to keep pond water in it, it's in the kitchen!" She hopped off of her chair, lugging the racoon along with her like it was a rather expensive lap cat.

Dipper followed her. "Why did you have a jug of pond water?"

"Because, dummy, if I met a frog prince he would need something in the shack to remind him of home."

"Aren't you supposed to turn him into a person though?"

Whatever Mabel's retort was to be was cut off by the door swinging shut.

"There ya go," Stan grumbled. "You're getting your jug. Just in time too." He gestured toward the SUV. The mother was walking toward the Shack, one hand holding the baby, the other gripping tightly to the little boy's hand. The little boy gripped a few dollars in his fist, eyes alight with excitement.

Fiddleford looked frantic. "I can't sing and play the jug at the same time!" He gripped at his hat, pulling it down over his ears.

Ford sighed. "Then don't play the jug."

"It won't be the same!" Fiddleford shook his head. "A jugband without a jug that's...that's like a body with no heartbeat!"

The door swung open and Mabel emerged with an old ceramic jug.

"Here it is!" she exclaimed. "And it only sort of smells like pond scum."

"I don't think that will be necessary," Ford smiled gently. "It seems Fiddleford can't play both simultaneously."

Mabel frowned. "But it's a jugband. It's in the name!"

"How about we wait another day," Ford offered, patting Fiddleford awkwardly on the back. "Maybe someone in town will join you."

"Oh for Pete's sake, give it to me." Stan snatched the jug out Mabel's hand, sniffing at the top and giving a grimace.

Fiddleford stopped pulling at his hat, peeking out from under the brim. "You'll play?"

Stan grunted. "I'm not missing out on good money just because you have a case of the heebie jeebies. Besides, how hard can it be? It's like blowing on the top of a beer...er...I mean soda bottle."

Dipper crossed his arms. "Grunkle Stan, we know what beer is."

"Not from me you don't."

Mabel squealed. "It's happening! Grunkle Stan is learning an instrument!"

"It's not an instrument, Pumpkin. It's dishware."

"It's a scrapbookortunity!"

Mabel dashed into the house once more, leaving Dipper to grin at their Grunkle Stan.

The family was only a few yards away now. Fiddleford looked between Stan, Ford, and Dipper, and straightened up in his seat.

"Alright. Alright!" He clapped his hands together. "Stanley, you get down here with me, otherwise your feet are gonna get mighty sore from standing." He yanked at Stanley's hand until he sat beside the rocking chair with a grumble.

"Now when I tap my foot," Fiddleford instructed. "You blow on the jug. One short note at a time." Fiddleford tapped his foot in demonstration. "You got that?"

Stanley rolled his eyes. "Gee, I don't know. Seems pretty complicated for the guy without a PhD."

Mabel burst through the door, camera clutched in her hands. "Got it!"

"Excuse me?"

The little boy stood on the porch, approaching the banjo case with far more trepidation than before. Eyes darting between the assembly, he dropped a few dollars in the case.

"Is this enough to play a song?"

Fiddleford didn't bother looking at the money. He turned his gaze to Stanley, who shrugged and raised the jug to his lips.

Fiddleford grinned. "You know ‘Boodle Am Shake’?"

The little boy shook his head.

"Well you're about to!" And with that he was off.

By Fiddleford's standards, it wasn't a horribly complicated tune. Ford had heard him pluck out more complex riffs while waiting for the coffee pot in their dorm room to brew. But Fiddleford was smiling. His shoulders had dropped from around his ears, and he was nodding at the little boy to tap his feet along with him. Ford hid his smile behind his hands as he watched Stanley, eyes focused on Fiddleford's bare foot with as much attention as one would give to diffusing a bomb. Next to him, Mabel was snapping pictures of the pair. Dipper stood on his other side, wearing the small smile he tended to get when feeling introspective. Ford laid his hand on Dipper's shoulder, and Dipper leaned into the touch.

The mother was smiling at her little boy, her baby having finally stopped fussing. Maybe it wasn't the grand attraction Mabel had planned, but Ford thought it was worth far more than those few dollars anyway. Nothing could be worth more than his family standing around him, his closest friend singing again.

I know this song, it don't mean a doggone thing. Just do that good old Charleston swing. When you sing...

[peapodbond]

I'm going to hit Tim Minear with a calendar.

Okay, so, first of all. I'm a Teen Wolf fan. I'm used to wonky timelines. (Lydia had two canonical birthdays!) And 9-1-1 did get a little wonky! There are references that contradict each other all time, but since there is no set 'length' of time that each episode covers, maybe they do all work together. Could go either way!

But. For real. Abby? Seriously?

I have indulged in the Abby and Tommy jokes before. It is, objectively, hilarious to imagine.

But the math just is not mathing with what was given as their backstory.

2018: Buck is working at the 118, done his probie spot?? (in 1×2, Buck says he's been on the job for six months), and meets Abby.

2017: Abby and 'Tommy' break up. (as per her voiceovers)

2015-2017: Abby and 'Tommy' were engaged (as per Tommy saying they were engaged for two years)

?? - 2017: Abby and Tommy were dating. I have to assume it was at least six months? So at minimum, they were together for 2.5 years.

Let's recap! Chim came to the 118 in 2005. Hen came to the 118 in 2010 (there is some fun Twilight math involved, ask me about that sometime). Bobby shows up before Buck (in 1×5, Hen says he's been there for a year so it would have been six months before Buck, but Bobby Begins Again gets loosey-goosey with the time and it ~seems~ in that episode as though he went straight from Minnesota to LA after his family died and he got sober the first time, and the title cards in that episode say the fire happened in 2014. I don't really believe that he was at loose ends and drinking for two years. At that point in time he would have decided that the sooner he got back to work the sooner he could save 148 people and see his family again.)

Tommy, Hen, Chim and Sal were all friendly by the time that Bobby showed up. They made bets with each other, hung out after work, and razzed each other about stealing lunch money. This is a friendship that started shortly after Gerrard was removed (also 2010, because Hen was still a probie when the car accident happened) and continued until Sal and Tommy left the 118 in 2017.

You are telling me that Tommy managed to have a two and a half (minimum!) YEAR relationship, and that neither Chim nor Hen (nor Bobby!) met her, heard her name, and connected the dots when she started showing up with Buck?

Tommy, who was closeted and didn't feel safe coming out. Didn't mention his girlfriend slash fiancée so that people would stop asking about his relationship?

Not to mention that in Bobby Begins Again when they're all at the bar, Tommy mentions that being single is easier. So he's single! Which means that even with Abby waiting a year to hook up with the himbo the math doesn't math properly either.

And in Lou's interview with Decider he said that it was only decided recently that Abby and Tommy were going to be a thing.

Tim had seven years worth of timeline knowledge to figure that out. It feels like the length of the relationship was decided on so that Josh could give that (actually awesome) speech at dispatch.

(Also after hearing that 8×5 was written to be so good so that everyone would be even more upset in 8×6, it feels like it was just written to make it hurt even worse.)

So, it could have absolutely been written that they both dated Abby, but to be honest? It's more compelling if it had been earlier. When Chim is hired at the 118 Gerrard is asking Tommy when his girlfriend is coming to cook dinner - in 2005, fresh out of the army and DADT and faced with a boss that is homophobic, of course Tommy, at 21, would date a woman and go so far as to get engaged. And he and Chim, who were barely friends at that point, would not have been talking about their personal lives then. Of course, that would retcon the fact that 'Tommy ' and Abby had only broken up the year before the show started, but it would actually still work for the Patricia reference - Buck would have been much closer to Tommy's age when they would have dated, and Alzheimer's means that twenty years and twenty minutes can feel like the same amount of time away from you.

There. I made it make sense! And I didn't even have a team of writers and producers to guide me along the way.

[jwnchstr]

waiting for superman | m.s47

title: waiting for superman part 5 (final)

characters: you/reader/catherine, mick schumacher

summary: when your father (a former ferrari mechanic) was diagnosed with alzheimer's, your world turns upside down. you had to give up your city life, get back to your village to take care of your father.  but what hurts the most is being so close to him and seeing him not remember you (catherine) as well as every precious moment in his life with you. you start to questions about everything until mick schumacher (your childhood best friend) comes back into your life and teaches you life lessons that you're sure will remember forever.

other f1 fics | masterlist | my wattpad

waiting for superman part 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 

*

v.

you used to be alert, always on your toes, ready to for an action when you hear your father's name. it could have been nothing serious and yet, you would be the one to worry about his state. you used to know what to do when someone informs you that they see karl in the middle of nowehere, or when he is having another episode of tantrum as much as it strangely sounds. you were like the black widow in your own movie. however, something isn't quite right in your systems today, right now, and you couldn't understand it.

    for the first time since your father got sick, when you hear your father's name from annie through the phone just now, and when she said that your father doesn't have much time, you didn't understand what she meant as if it wasn't clear enough. or maybe you did, but you didn't know what to do. meanwhile, you remember one year ago, as soon as the news about your father being diagnosed with alzheimer's, as soon as you accepted that this illness isn't going to make your father any better, you were prepared for this. you're prepared to lose your father despite him being the only family you have left. however, when it actually happens tonight, you found yourself not believing anything annie had said and hence, you're standing there as if nothing serious happened. if not, why is mick still having a conversation with the rest of your small group and not noticing how pale you are beside him?

    you can say that you're lucky the vettels kids notice how you suddenly disconnected from the world, didn't hear the loudest one when she calls your name. you're like frozen beside mick, looking pale, and the kids would nudge you and pull you to continue play chase with them, but you wouldn't budge. it's like you're anchored on the spot beside mick. the youngest one started to cry, scared of something that might happen to you with your sudden change. the middle one just stood there, staring at you as if looks could wake you up from your trance. but the eldest one gets to his mother, pulls her arms to get her attention and points his finger at you.

    "catherine, are you okay?" hanna asks. her voice is so gentle, so motherly. you remember when you were a young girl, you used to ask your father why you've never had a mother. and your father refused to answer your question until one day you shouted at him, saying how he was not a good father and husband that your mother left you. and that's when your father realised that you're old enough for the truth. since then, you never asked about her again but admittedly, you long for a mother's love.

    the chatters around your circle immediately stops. you had all eyes on you. mick, gina. even norbert is worried about you because he knows about your father as well. well, by this far, amongst your closed circle, who wouldn't? even the kids had stopped playing and hug their mother's legs as they watch you. you felt someone's warm hand carressing your back and that's when a tear drops onto your cheek. and maybe it's the way mick jumps in front of you, as if protecting you from the media and public from seeing your wet eyes; maybe it's the way sebastian's family and mick's family had their concern look on you that you felt so vulnerable but in a good way; maybe it was hanna's motherly voice that made you cried harder.

    "catherine?" mick isn't the only person who panicked, but he is the only person who asked since he's closest to you. "hey, why are you crying?"

    honestly, you didn't hear a thing that came out from mick's mouth as annie's voice still lingers around your ears as if she's still on the phone with you. you father doesn't have much time is repeating itself like a broken record and you didn't know how to shut it down. so you stayed frozen, still not in the zone. mick's voice continued to muffle as he squeezes your upper arms to get your attention. as your visions continue to blur, you keep telling yourself to move, to say something, stop crying, but you're just numb, in the middle of the paddock, at an event, in front of mick, gina and sebastian's family, and people.

    but good thing the fireworks are still playing somewhere behind mick, aren't they? because there was a pop of the fireworks snaps you out of your trance, wiping your eyes and the tear stains on your cheeks. you see mick's worried blue eyes and if that isn't the most relieveing thing in the world, you don't know what else is. he had his palms cupping your cheeks. now, as your senses coming back to you, you can finally hear every bit of mick's words.

    "oh, catherine! you're freaking me out! please tell me what's wrong. do we need to get back right now? has something happened to your father?"

    "mick..." you manage to croak. "my---my father---"

    yes. exactly. that's what everyone of them here thinks. samething happened to your father. it explains why you were so out of daze, like your soul flew out of your body, like you were dead for a few seconds, like you were taken somewhere else. you got mick scared the most when you didn't respond when he tried to get your attention.

    everything else that happened after that was a blur. you noticed the other adults talking amongst themselves, as if discussing something while you stand there, not knowing what to do. you were aware of how mick's hand wrap around yours as he leads you back to haas hospitality. and he doesn't let you go when he enters haas motorhome, packs his clothes in his driver's room, also when he came to meet his manager. it's like he is afraid that you would get lost or faint behind him and he didn't notice

    there are many factors as to why he never let you out of his sight, even for one second, but if there's one word that could sum it up is: care. mick cares for you. mick cares how the change of the paddock made you jumpy. he cares how the fireworks make you cringe. he cares how the new faces on the paddock make you small and insecure even though he doesn't understand why. you are the daughter to a former ferrari mechanic. you were an engineer. you are respected as much as other people on the paddock.

    while you wait for mick to make his schedule free (at least, for the next few days), gina had gone back to the hotel you share with her. she helps you pack your clothes, other items that are probably scattering around on the bed, on the table, in the washroom. gina could get mixed up with some of her items, thinking that they're hers, but you don't think it's a big of a deal. she's going to come home sooner or later, anyway. she can bring them back to you when she's home.

    when you get on the last flight home, there is one thing that you wish you could do: convince the mercedes-amg team principal to lend you their private jet and pilot so you could be home sooner. because now, as you're sitting at the economy's three seated aeroplane, you cannot stop yourself from shaking in your seat while keeping your eyes out of the window, overlooking the dark sky. and you're biting your nails. something that you haven't done in years. and if there's one more thing that you would wish is that, to get another chance with your father. even if it only means to see him for the last time.

    "please wait for me, dad," you repeat what you told your father before leaving for abu dhabi on saturday.

    oh, it was only yesterday that you last saw him. and it was so... crazy how in under one day that he's gone. just like that. or was it because that you didn't pay enough attention on him? that---that time when he rested his hand on yours. was that the sign? was he trying to tell you something from that movement? was he trying to tell you to stay? or was it a goodbye?

    the thought of your father never left you even when you feel a hand on your knees, as if telling you to calm down, that you're worrying too much. well, it seems that your body agrees with him because your legs did stop shaking. you turn towards the person and only see a pair of sad eyes looking at you. mick has always knew what to say when tough times are hitting you, but not in this kind of situation, no. he keeps looking at you. his jaws flexing. he is trying his best to say something to comfort you, but nothing came out.

    "he was okay when i left him, mick," you whisper weakly. "how---how can he---"

    and you stopped yourself because a bile got stuck in your throat. you gulp, blink away your tears but more stream down to your cheeks.

    "i'm sorry, catherine," mick says when he finally found his voice. "but i promise everything will be okay."

    you shake your head. "it won't. we know it won't."

    you start to look away again, to hide your glassy eyes from mick even though it's useless to do so. but at the same time, you cannot see his face right now. that look he had when he hates himself because he cannot help you. but it's okay, you thought. there are some things that we cannot control ourselves and it's enough that he is by your side right now. there's no other person that you would like to be with, in this situation, except with mick. and his family.

    and as if reading your mind, mick says "don't worry, okay? i will be here with you." mick gives you a small assuring smile that you return with a thankful one. "now, come here. you need to sleep. we still have four hours to go. one transit. and another six hours until we reach home."

    when you finally close your eyes and fall asleep in mick's embrace, you dream nothing.

*

"catherine! hey, wait---"

    mick was not trying to stop you from meeting your father who is in the ICU. he would consider evil if he did that to you---to anyone---given that he had the same experience back when he was a teenager. but you are in a hospital. and you shouldn't be running and being loud as if there's no one else in the ward who probably needs the same amount of rest and attention as your father. he watches you sprint towards the counter, talking to a woman behind the counter, nodding a few times before bolting to your left without looking back at him. mick grunts, jogs towards you and just in time to catch you, who is already inside a lift.

    you couldn've sworn that you saw mick glaring at you as he stands close beside you in the lift. maybe he was pissed that you left him by himself at the front entrance. and if it weren't because of his ethletic energy, he wouldn't be here with you right now in the lift. as much as you want to apologise mick for that, you decided that you could that later. maybe after seeing karl. right now---

    ding!

    once the lift doors open, you are running once again. out of the lift, towards an unfamiliar hallway that leads you to a ward room. and a particular memory that resides somewhere in mick's brain brought mick once again to when you were younger, when michael was still a ferrari driver and karl was still their mechanic. and how that time you used to travel with the schumachers to f1 races because that's the only way karl would allow you to come to his work place. you were always sticking with them until when you saw your father and you excitedly ran towards him. there were smiles on both of your faces as karl lifted you up, spun you around like a princess, and walked hand-in-hand to only God-knows-where. it was one of the most beautiful scene in mick's memory and a happy one. it has nothing to do with the current situation.

    mick jogs close behind you and stops when he sees you hugging annie in front of a door.

    "annie! i'm sorry! i'm sorry i'm late! i'm---!"

    "hey, catherine. shhh, it's alright. your father is still there. you can calm down." annie sounds exhausted but for catherine and karl, she stays awake. "you can come in anytime you're ready. hi, mick."

    mick tries to smile at annie but the scrunch of his face make it seems like he hates the smell of the hospital. though, annie wouldn't blame him. she used to work in the hospital before, taking care of people, wipe someone's butt, trimming their pubes hair, holding a person's hair when she is vomitting, cleaning someone's urine on the hospital floor. and not to mention when the patient suddenly lost exessive blood, suddenly burst out of their wound.

    but mick... he had always hated the hospital not because of the sick people or the smell of the antiseptic liquid. but it's the image of his father that appears at the back of his eyes. how he, even as the son, has to wait for the right time and the visiting hour to see his dad. he tried to move on from it especially when his work requires him to see the doctor frequently but the truth is, he could never. but for you, he braves himself and follows you inside your father's ward room. he thought you didn't notice him, but you can imagine his surprise look when you link your fingers with him as both of you stand beside your father's hopital bed. you squeeze mick's finges, as if he was the one who needed the encouragement.

    both of you watch as your father slowly and painfully breathing behind the oxygen mask, eyes wild as he searches for your voice above him. these wires. the machines. you know this isn't something that you will forget easily especially seeing how the man behind the oxygen mask halfly doesn't look like your father at all. seeing him lying helplessly on the hospital bed, it's hard to remember how he looked like when he was still healthy because this image in front of you is all that you can remember now. and possibly forever.

    you reach your father's hand with your free hand. his skin calloused under your fingertips. "dad, i thought i told you to wait for me."

    the man on the bed didn't show any sign that he understands you. neither did he show any sign that he recognises you, but he does stare at you when he hears someone else's voice in the room.

    "dad, i'm sorry for leaving you. i---i shouldn't have left you... like mum did. i shouldn't---if i didn't leave two days ago, you wouldn't be here." you sob.

    mick, who was standing beside you this whole time, suddenly snaps out of this own world. there is voice in his head saying, "it's your fault" as he watches your father on the hospital bed, not having any idea that the woman standing before him is his daughter. he shouldn't have gotten you that vip access. he shouldn't have begged you to come to watch his and sebastian's last race in abu dhabi grand prix. he shouldn't have let you leave your father's side. he shouldn't told you that he booked the flight tickets, hotel rooms, had a driver ready for her when she arrived in saudi arabia, made you feel guilty so that you will eventually agree to come. if he had done nothing of these, your father won't have fallen sick that annie had to call the ambulance and got him taken to the emergency.

    mick suddenly let go of your hand. your head snaps towards the space between your hands before looking up at mick. confusion written on your face, but instead of explaning, mick turn around for a run.

    "hey, how's it---oh. i thought you were catherine," annie says outside of the ward room. "hey, mick!" and annie didn't mean to shout in the quiet hallway. she knows how to respect othe patients inside other ward rooms, but mick had run away from annie. and when the clicking sound of the door greets him, he runs faster towards the stairs.

    "mick, would you stop?! mick!" you run after the young man, leaving annie with an eyebrow raised. you are sure that you owe so much to annie. after living with you for about more than a year, annie has put up alot of behaviour, your mood swings, your rebellion, your tantrum. as you run after mick right now, you suddenly feel sad with the thought of her leaving you after your father...

    you stop yourself from thinking about it now. you continue running after mick. and oh God, why must he chose the stairs? "mick, would you care tell me what's wrong?"

    "leave me alone," mick says.

    "mick, come on! we're not teenagers anymore!"

"nothing, catherine. i just need some fresh air." mick tries to keep himself composed.

    "you can do that with me!" you shouted. your voice echo in the empty, hollow emergency exit of the hospital. you glance at the one side of the wall and see a LG sign. and your voice gives so much impact on mick that he immediately stops running. his hand pauses on the door knob. "mick, i can tell something is in your mind right now. please, tell me."

    mick doesn't move. he keeps his eyes on his hand on the door knob. his heart is pounding in his ears. from the running, from the anger towards himself, from your voice. he once swore to himself that he would take care of you until his last breath, even if you didn't end up marrying him, but he wants to do that to you. however, this guilt... he's not sure about that now. he cannot look at your face and not see that he was the reason behind those tears. he had caused your father to---

    mick gulps. "i'm sorry, catherine."

    you frown. "for what? mick, for what? tell me, please. we don't have much time. my father is---"

    "your father wouldn't be here if i didn't buy you that damn tickets."

    "what?"

    there is a pause as mick contemplates with himself. he is in a dilemma between opening up to you or continue to run away from the problem, ghost you because, apparently, that's best option he has in mind. he cannot see your face knowing that it was his fault your father, the only family you have left, is leaving you because of him and his selfish decision.

    finally, mick sighs and turns around to face you. it's one of those nightmares for you to see him with eyes red and him to see you desperate for explanation. but if there is one thing that he remembers both his parents taught him was not to leave the person you love hanging. bad things will always happen in a relationship, in friendship. and it hurts to tell the truth and see the reaction on the other person's face, but never leave them without trying.

    and that's what mick is doing right now. he loves catherine so much that he could risk his life in anything. both of you had gone through so much together. you were one of the few people who were there for him when michael got into that tragic accident. you were there on the track side to support him in karting, in the formula series. it was his fault that he didn't see you you any sooner. and now that he got you, he doesn't want to let you go. or his mother will give him the silent treatment.

    "your father, catherine." mick is shaking. you can hear it in his voice. and he can take as much time he can to talk, but the fact that your father could die any time now, makes you on edge. "if i didn't buy that stupid tickets and didn't force you to come and watch me on my last race, he wouldn't be hospitalised."

    "i'm sorry for throwing you in this situation, catherine," mick continues. "and---and i get if you--"

    "mick." you take a few steps closer toward mick. "look, i'm sorry if i ignored you just now. i just---i'm just so worried about my father. okay? and mick, it's not your fault my father is here now. and i flew to abu dhabi because i wanted to, not because you forced me to. i knew how it meant to you and sebastian if i were there with you guys."

    mick doesn't know what to say. he is so angry at himself and adore the way you handle the situation. how could he not see this on you before? how could he abandon you and hurt you instead? he doesn't deserve, does he? even though you agreed to to be his girlfriend, you let him kissed you in front of billions of people after the race, he still doesn't deserve you.

    "so please stop with that 'everything is my fault' bullshit, okay? and i thought you said that you will always be by my side. you're going to break the promise now? after you kissed me in front of everyone---literally everyone---after park femme?"

    mick snorts. after all these years, he is amazed how he is still surprised with all your little snide remarks as if you could read his mind. he lets his hand on the knob go and hugs you.

    "i know you won't." you smile back at mick.

*

maybe annie shouldn't have let you know this, but she figures she didn't want to lose your trust and feel guilty for the rest of her life when you and her parted ways after your father dies. so she tells you anyway.

    the truth is, soon after you left for abu dhabi, your father showed a bad sign and annie instinctively called the ambulance and soon, she was inside the ambulance with your father on the bed. karl was hospitalised and warded immediately while waiting for the on-duty doctor to check up on him. she was not allowed to take care of karl like how she does at home since they have nurses to look after him.

    she wanted to call you soon, but thought you were busy. and she thought that, after years, you might miss the life you once had back then, and let you have all the fun. let annie and her only to worry about karl. she was about to take a relieved sigh, but the next thing she knows, the doctor told her that karl doesn't have much time left.

    annie was taught not to panic in any kinds of situation she is facing, but when she heard that from the doctor, she panicked. maybe it was her fault that she has taken you and karl and everything about you two personally that she feels as if you're her family now. but after a year of living with you, how could she not feel as such?

    she called you to deliver the unfortunate news. and she called again and again and again, even when she was still taken to voicemail after a few more tries. she stopped for a few minutes. and called again when the doctor had informed her that the oxygen mask had no function to karl anymore. it's either you bring karl home to save you from the expensive hospital fee or let him go. here. in the hospital. take off that oxygen mask and let him free of his misery. because there's no cure for alzheimer's disease even though, initially, it was cardiac arrest that took karl to the emergency department.

    you didn't know what to do. you wanted to bring your father home. you wanted your father for as long as you could but annie had told you that you were selfish for doing so. with her advice, you agreed to let the doctors take off the oxygen mask and do their stuffs. and you were there to watch, with annie by your side. you wish mick could be here but the hospital was strict with their regulations. only family members was allowed in here. and you had to bribe the doctor to let annie in with you, telling them that annie was a nurse before she was your father's caretaker. and when you hear as the heart monitor changing from the constant beep, beep sound to a constant beeeeeep, you feel the sky falls on top of your shoulders.

    when you wake up the next time, you're at the cemetery.

*

"thank you for coming," you say to one of the neighbours. "karl would be happy to see you."

    "thank you. say hi to britney for me."

    "it's nice of you to remember him. i appreciate that. karl would appreciate that."

    there were a lot of thank yous today that at some point, you started to get bored saying it that you just smile and nod your head as you send those visitors to the front door. you had enough hugs, too, but you can't get rid of this one especially when they were the one who pull you into their arms, caressing their palms on your back. sometimes, you feel as if they're invading your personal space. but you don't want to be rude so you let them. at least, only for today.

    and there were nothing that you didn't hear from those who visited you today. there are always be strong or your father must be proud of you or you must inherited a fortune from your father since you're the only child! or it's so sad just because you lost your only family member. you don't hace siblings, aunts and uncles, a mother, grandparents from either of their sides. if you need anything, just give us a call. you know you don't need their help to any extend but you politely, smile back and wave them goodbye.

    the only people you love to see aside from the schumachers, annie and the vettels are marc and franco. they didn't say much but their smiles and hugs are enough to tell you that they will do anything for you. like you can bunk in marc's house if you're afraid to sleep in the ouse by yourself. if you have any trouble with your car, they can give you a free fix. if you needed money, they'd lend you some. you might need two of them, but either way, you're thankful with their presence here.

    marc and franco were the last visitors to leave your house. and when they did, you finally can breathe normally as you shut the front door, already on another mission and that is to clean the house. maybe God was on your side today that there weren't much trash in the living room and the porch but there are still a lot cleaning to do.

    "hey, let me do that for you," hanna says as she snatches dirty plates in your hands. "go sit over there. i'll bring you some water in a minute."

    you're mentally exhausted from arguing with anyone right now. the only thing you can now is smiling at hanna, appreciating her presence here with sebastian and their kids and norbert. "thanks," you mutter, watching her short blonde air bounce as she truts into the kitchen.

    as you sit by yourself in the living room, watching the vettels kids playing by themselves silently while their parents helping you with chores, watching the adults going back and forth the kitchen as if their home, watching corinna and annie giving orders, watching gina somehow making jokes in the kitchen to light up the mood and mick standing in the kitchen not knowing what to do though he tried to help, you realise that you might lose your father, but maybe you gain another, two maybe three mothers, a grandparent, a sister, little siblings. most importantly, you gain a partner who understands you inside and out and you didn't plan to lose any of them soon.

the end

[ramblingroommate]

Watching 9-1-1 for the first time

Ok the canonically bi firefighter got me. I’ve been seeing gifs of “the gay firefighter show” for around two years and I gotta be honest… I never gave it a chance. It was fun seeing people post about the show here and there but I mentally categorized it as “yet another queer coded queerbaiting show tumblr goes crazy for… been there done that”. But making one of the characters from the main ship (from what I understand) CANONICALLY queer after SEVEN SEASONS? A MONTH BEFORE PRIDE? Okay now I just have to watch it.

So here I am. Watching it for the first time and writing about it. This is more exciting than I expected tbh. Oh! Just to make it clear: I have never seen a single episode of this show but I have heard quite a few things about the characters over the years. But I never paid that much attention? So I’m not even sure what I actually know… I’ll figure it out when I get to it I guess.

Episode 1x1: Pilot

I like that straight off the bat the VERY FIRST thing they say is that there are two types of emergencies: the immediate abrupt ones and the long term slowly corroding ones. This character (Abby?) is a 911 operator and has a mother with Alzheimer so she’s pretty familiar with both types of emergencies. What a way to introduce a character! Also I like her voice, it’s soothing.

Here they are! Nice to finally officially meet you guys. Oh, I guess that’s something I know: I know all the characters names even tho I can’t really match most of them with a face. I obviously recognize Buck. And I know Eddie gets introduced in season 2. I’m guessing the older guy that seems to be in charge is Bobby? I think he’s like their boss or something? I hope the bits and pieces of info I know won’t start to mix in my head.

Also those are the worst compressions I have ever seen in my life. Can we put a little more effort in this cpr?

I mean… yeah? Mmmh. Okay that line threw me off for a moment. On one hand, of course they hang up after help gets there, that’s why they called in the first place. THEY are the ones in need, it’s about them not about you.

On the other hand, I think I understand what they’re trying to say… it has to be hard to not know if you actually helped or not, not have that closure. A nurse, a doctor, a firefighter know if the person they were called in to help was actually saved or not. Whether it’s good or bad, at least they get the closure of knowing. A 911 operator might be there for the worst part and then that’s it. On to the next one. Never thought about that before.

Oof that’s not gonna work. I mean I understand why he would say it and i remember an article talking exactly about this but… that’s not something that’s gonna help her in the moment.

… yeah

Tho I gotta say… they actually showed her fall, I didn’t expect it. It shows the kinda budget this show has, doing a stunt like that for a character you see for 3 minutes. Maybe a bit cold on my part to focus on that but oh well

Mmmh… a black book with names written inside. Either this has suddenly become Death Note or he has a Secret Past TM. There are also numbers… probably the number of people he couldn’t save in some tragic accident and somehow feels responsible for? And now he wants to make up for it by saving the same number of people. If that’s the case then it’s peak tv drama.

Ok wait wait slOW DOWN THERE, I CAN’T KEEP UP. Twenty seconds of conversation and I learned Bobby is a devout christian ex addict (alcohol and painkillers) who got in trouble with the department and spent ten years in and out of rehab AND has only been back for 18 months??? I wasn’t expecting to be told so much backstory so soon.

And then they immediately cut to Buck… is he a sex addict? Is that what they’re implying here? Gonna ignore everything else that happens on screen because firehose? Really?

WAIT A FUCKING SECOND

THIS SHOW IS MADE BY RYAN MURPHY?!?!???! AND BRAD FALCHUK TOO, THE TWO GUYS WHO ALSO MADE GLEE?

WHY DIDN’T ANYONE TELL ME WHAT THE FUUUUUUU-

Okay so I have much more to say about this show than I thought so I’m gonna split my comments in more parts (part 2 here)

[skylarmoon71]

Eobard Thawne (Flash) - Extra

It’s all bittersweet, being back.

You’d woken up in the hospital with a clean bill of health. Everyone was shocked. Especially the guard who saw you take a full blast of lightning straight to the chest.

When you got to the lab, you didn’t expect the round of applause from fellow scientists. Everyone in the building was standing at the entrance clapping. You shuffled to the side to question one of the other interns that worked with you.

“W-What’s going on?”

She smiled.

“You crazy psycho, you saved the entire lab. That bolt that you ran into would have hit the circuit box in that room. Firefighters said if it had connected, the whole place would have gone up in smoke. You saved billions of dollars of research. Not to mention how many casualties you prevented other buildings close by.”

“I-I did?”

She nods, and she pushes you forward as you walk through the hall waving awkwardly and shaking hands with everyone you seem to pass by. The CEO of the company is wearing the biggest smile. “

“Thank you so much. There’s nothing I can truly do to express my gratitude. “ She shakes your hand vigorously and you just giggle, rubbing the back of your neck.

“N-No problem. A-Anytime.”

The remainder of the day you’re met with the royal treatment. It’s a little strange, but nice to be recognized. Even Jimmy had found you at some point and basically bowed at your feet from protecting his tech. All in all, it was a great day.

But as you returned that afternoon, you felt a bit hollow.

There was no sign of Eobard. It was a bit naive to think he would jump in after you, but you hoped that maybe if he felt even a glimmer of what you did, he would risk it.

So you wait.

Day one you’re hopeful.

Day two you’re desperate.

Day three, you see the truth.

Walking into the lab on the fourth day, you’re fairly sluggish. You get to work on your machine and many others. Your time at star labs has given you a lot of insight. Working day and night with such intelligent people really opened up your eyes. If you thought you got recognition for saving the lab, when you finally got your machine up and running, your resident supervisor was practically glowing with pride as broke down how it worked. It was extraordinary. With any luck, in a matter of months they could actually get it working in hospitals.

The following week, you're sitting on your couch, watching a repeat of one of your favorite episodes. It’s stupid to torture yourself like this. Looking at something you could no longer have. But it was the only thing you have left. You clenched the pillow that night, falling asleep to the sound of Eobard giving Barry a pep talk while dealing with the latest resident bad.

On your way to work the next morning, you down a cup of coffee and get started on a new project.

“What are you working on?”

You smile at Jimmy. He’s become somewhat of a colleague rather than a rival, especially after you helped him with his own creation.

“It’s a memory foam I guess. For people suffering from Dementia and Alzheimer's. I figured if I can create the cure for cancer, why stop there. There’s so many diseases and illnesses out there. We can do so much for people if we really put our mind to it. I guess my time in that coma showed me exactly what I wanted to do. I want to save people.”

“That’s..incredible (Y/N).”

You grin.

“Thank you, I aim to please.” you joke.

He laughs and you spot your supervisor at the door. You wave at him, returning your focus to your work.

The door opens behind as John walks in.

“This is where all our other paid interns work on different projects for the better of humanity. You hear that, paid interns."

 Everyone in the room laughs at John’s quip. He’s caught you all a few times chatting around in the lab or playing uno. So his words aren’t completely unwarranted.

“Who’s the new fish?” Jimmy asks.

You can hear a number of chuckles, and you laugh, drawing up your rough sketch for the blueprints you’ll need to make.

“My name is Eobard, Eobard Thawne.”

Your head whips around at the name and you drop the pencil. 

Your eyes are planted on the blond haired man and the second he sees you, he offers a smile. It’s so warm and filled with light, you almost break down right there. He walks right up to you with his hand extended.

“It’s nice to meet you.”

You just gape for a few seconds, when you finally gather the courage to reach out, you take his hand. A pleasant shock rushes through your finger tips and his awestruck expression mirrors your own. He must realize that he’s been holding your hand and staring for far too long. He pulls back nervously.

“S-Sorry. I didn’t get your name."

You offer the biggest smile you can, because this is nothing short of a miracle.

“(Y/N) (L/N), it’s really nice to meet you.”

He’s smiling just as brightly.

“You too.” 

[magnumdays]

Magnum PI 5.06 - “Dead Ringer” review

Oh boy, the Miggy feels this episode gave me. 

Actually not just them, it just gave me feels all around. Rick being adorably awkward and wanting hope and TC and Kumu being them and the case being so sweet and Gordon and his son being goals. Even Higgy and Thomas showing up to ask for a favor and wish him good luck with his thing was so cute and on point. 

So yeah, new favorite episode?

Starting to feel like I say that every week but this one really *Chef’s kiss*

So we got Magnum and Higgins being Magnum and Higgins and disagreeing about how to go about the mystery case. They haven’t really done a lot of real disagreeing since being a couple and I think showing it and how they can still be them and together was really nice. And part of why I think Higgy can so confidently say it is “definitively working”. Because it is.

I did enjoy this bit though, where Magnum is just being sooo annoyingly smooth and Magnum...

But yeah, Magnum and Higgins working a case and being awesome PIs is def. just my favorite thing ever. Especially now with them just being a little extra adorable with their looks (okay, okay, they were always adorable with the looks!)

We also got this one! 

Isn’t it kind of funny that the long awaited kiss-lift moment really (while cute) was the one I cared the least about? Funny world.

Case of the week was really good. I liked that they found their “client” (even if I though getting DNA testing took like a bit of time even for the cops, but maybe I’m just not up to date on crime lab time frames.) and got the story using both their skills and method. I suspected the ‘dead’ girl would be alive as soon as we got the story from her dad, even if makes the whole “they’ll never find her body” kind of weird. Like maybe, I guess, because she’s not dead, no body to find, but still kind of weird.

Gordon being nervous and saying his peace and his kid being there and just all around them being an adorable father/son duo makes me happy. 

I wasn’t sure Gordon actually would get his badge back, I thought he’d be denied and like go into a dark depressed spiral of doom. Question now is - what does that mean for Childs? Maybe he stays until mid-season finale? I guess time will tell.

Rick and the Ohana at La Mariana being a hoot and then finally Rick and TC asking Magnum and him being all “Yup, that’s my girl and I’m all about happiness and joy now” was nice. 

Call back to last season with the Nuzo moment right? With the framing?

Final scene will forever be in my heart. Like doubtful I could have written a more fluff Miggy scene myself if I tried.

Yeah... peak Miggy right there! 

No Greene case stuff at all, but that’s fine (we’re worried enough about our TC as it is.) This episode was better off just focusing on the main plot of Magnum and Higgy (and Childs) investigating + Rick being all “they’re doing it” and Gordy’s hearing as side plots.

(Side note;I can’t wait to watch it the  whole episode in HD, because there was a distinct 2010 quality to the ones I’ve found so far!)

Next weeks promo looks... confusing. But from the summary “Magnum and Higgins investigate the robbery of an elderly man suffering from Alzheimer's. The ohana tries to help TC overcome a past trauma.” It seems we might get both a bit of Higgy backstory (if someone remembers her mom backstory) and TC and backstory is always fantastic. Plus more Miggy team up, that’s what we love to see!

I’m also excited for 5.08 which according to the summary will see Higgy undercover at a mental hospital. That is simply a to die for concept and I can’t wait to see it!

[nellie-elizabeth]

Grey's Anatomy: Wedding Bell Blues/Happily Ever After (19x19/20)

Oh goodness. There are a lot of things about this that I really goddamn hate, but... plenty I loved, too!

Cons:

Jo and Link. Look, I'd honestly love to feel differently about this. It sucks to have a character like Link, who I used to greatly enjoy, turn into someone that I just don't want to spend time with anymore. I liked Jo and Alex, and I liked Amelia and Link. I have never once thought these two worked as a romance. And when they had their big love confession and kiss in the rain moment, I honestly felt nothing. Total numbness and boredom. Plus, Link seemed like such an insensitive jerk about Jo flirting with her patient, Sam. Just grow up and get over yourself, dude.

Simone and Lucas is great and I'll compliment the drama later, but I still think Trey should have... existed as a character more leading up to this point. It was such a non-choice, such an obvious conclusion. I would have liked a bit more wedding shenanigans, and a bit more of an understanding of who Trey is as a person, in order to enjoy this more fully.

Meredith and Nick... I knew I was going to be annoyed about it, and I was right. At least we see Meredith having her own goals and passions in Boston, but my god, that whole apology to Nick, and wanting to build something with him, was just so joyless and boring to me. I just don't think he's an interesting character, and I never, ever have.

For the most part, I am all for Bailey getting that award, but it did feel sort of weird from the outsider perspective, like... the people who are not personally friends with Richard Webber or Catherine Fox or Miranda Bailey have to be sitting there like... wait a minute. They just arranged this whole nice little surprise for their personal friend? The Catherine Fox award is named after Catherine Fox, a woman who is married to Miranda Bailey's long-time friend and mentor. I'm not saying she doesn't deserve this accolade, of course she does! I just couldn't help but think of the people who aren't in this clique, wondering how fair this really is.

It remains to be seen what will come of Teddy, but yikes, if they actually kill her just when she was starting to become vaguely tolerable to me (due to reduced interactions with Owen), I'll be pissed. So unnecessary, Grey's.

Also: sorry, but Richard maybe having another relapse and drinking again is just boring to me at this point. I feel like whenever they run out of things for Richard to do in the story, they either bring back Catherine's cancer, or they have him drink again. Enough already.

In the category of things I wish we could have seen, I was a little sad that we didn't get some sister time with Amelia, Meredith, and Maggie. Especially as a wrap-up on this season for Amelia, who has been undergoing these feelings of abandonment.

Pros:

Jo learning ASL, yay! She's simcoming, which basically means she's signing and speaking at the same time, meaning her grammar has some issues, but it's still so cool to see that on the show, and I hope it continues.

Despite my feelings of clique-i-ness with the whole Catherine Fox award thing, I did think it was enormously sweet and empowering that Bailey got the award for her work in training people on abortion care. This show has never been afraid to go political, and it was such a nice capstone to a season where Bailey had to suffer so much harassment and pain. I did think about Addison, though: surely the award should have been jointly granted to her as well, for the same reason? Meredith giving that speech, Ben showing up last minute to support his wife, Bailey's surprise about it all... very moving and sweet, indeed.

It could be a cool way to keep Meredith connected to the show with intermittent appearances, this idea of her new breakthrough in Alzheimer's research, something that flies in the face of all understanding in the field, including Derek's research. She's going to be off doing science things, trying to get funding and keep hold of her reputation as she shakes things up, and she can pop up once or twice a season to update us on the chaos of her life. I like this for her. Drama, but not drama we need to be constantly paying attention to. I can imagine her working hard and becoming even more of a legend, and taking care of her kids, and living her life.

Also, in the interest of being entirely fair, I will clock one moment of Nick that I did enjoy. When Meredith tells him that the guy he found at her house is the kids' tutor, who also happens to be gay, his response is a frankly adorable, childish, "really?" Which I thought was sweet. Glad that Meredith hadn't randomly started dating someone new so quickly after settling in Boston, although to be honest whoever else she might have picked would probably be more interesting than Nick! Sorry!

I was surprisingly cool with the way they did the Maggie/Winston thing? At first I was annoyed, like, great. They're just going to fall into bed together and perpetuate the confusion and pain? But then they talked at the award event, and they had this gentle conversation about the potential for their future. Should they get divorced? Is that the best thing for both of them? I like how earlier, when they were on the plane, Winston defended himself and Maggie to Amelia, saying that it wasn't either of their faults alone that their relationship had taken this turn. That's some nuanced understanding of the situation, and I enjoyed it.

The plane thing was kind of ridiculous, over the top turbulence making all the doctors fear for their lives momentarily. It's the kind of thing we know for a fact Grey's is willing to pull, but I didn't really think the plane was going to go down, not with so much else the episode was trying to grapple with. But I did begrudgingly kind of enjoy Amelia and Winston holding hands, that was a nice little beat. And Bailey gets MVP once again for knocking the drink out of Richard's hand.

Back at the hospital, we've got all sorts of stuff going on. I continue to be impressed by how much the new crop of characters and their drama appeals to me.

First you've got Yasuda and Helm, going on an adorable date to Simone's wedding, kissing and giggling and problem-solving together when the flowers don't arrive for the ceremony. I loved seeing how sweet they were together. I'm sure next season will bring them their fair share of drama, as Helm is now Yasuda's boss, but seeing Mika running at full capacity, having enough sleep to do her job well, and seeing Helm so happy at the successful start of this new romantic relationship, and new chance at her dream career, was such a balm! They're pretty fun.

Simone leaves Trey at the altar, of course. Literally she's already started walking down the aisle when she decides she can't go through with the wedding. That's pretty rough. We learn how much she's doing all of this because of her long-dead mother, and when she learns that her mom met her dad after being engaged to someone else, she realizes her intended husband isn't the man for her. She and Lucas immediately fall into bed together, he literally helps her out of her wedding dress, which is just the kind of juicy soap opera goodness we love to see on this show.

Of course, things go bad when Trey shows up after getting in a minor car accident, and punches Lucas in the face when he realizes that he was a factor in Simone leaving. Simone talks to him and says, basically, that regardless of Lucas, marrying Trey isn't what she wants. I liked that they addressed that what Simone did hurt people. Trey and his family, Lucas... they all got caught up in Simone's indecision and struggles. It's a rough move, doing what Simone did, but the alternative being marrying someone you don't want to be with is, of course, worse.

Blue was a serious highlight for me of this episode! First there was his utter bad-ass moment of helping save a kid, and then bridging the language barrier (the mother and son spoke Spanish), and stopping CPS from getting involved. It turns out that the little boy Enzo ingested drugs that were left behind by a prior visitor to the hotel, not given to him by his mother. And then after that, he has a much less bad-ass moment, where he intubates Max when she suddenly starts to code, specifically violating her DNR order. It ends up in a situation where it's too late to go back and un-do what he's done, so they keep her alive, and Jules, with her medical proxy, is now going to be in the position of making decisions for her. Luckily, Max wakes up and they explain that she had a temporary thing going on and that she won't have to keep being intubated. Basically, Blue did a bad thing, took a huge risk, and it did pay off... but Jules's anger is completely justified. And what Blue did was a serious violation of medical ethics.

This is the kind of twisty dilemma that we love to see. It gave me early Grey's vibes for sure, Blue reacting with too much emotional instinct, his feelings of tenderness towards Jules, his own feelings about his mother coming into play... and Jules hating him for his decision but also loving him for saving her favorite person. I'm very into seeing where this goes from here.

And then... oh my god. Despite how much I will be annoyed if they kill Teddy, I will admit the very end of this episode hyped me up in a way Grey's hasn't managed to do in a very long time. Sam, the patient who has been flirting with Jo, ends up suddenly in distress and rushed to the OR. Teddy is the only attending in the room, and along with Yasuda and Lucas, and they're getting ready to do a life-saving emergency surgery. When suddenly... Teddy collapses. She's been having tooth pain for a while, but that's been our only hint that something was wrong with her at all. Our other attendings are scattered to the winds: at Boston, or making out in rainy alleyways, or whatever. So as Yasuda drops to the ground and starts trying to tend to Teddy, Simone shows up and along with Lucas, the two of them try to save Sam on the table. Owen is fetched by someone, and runs into the operating room to see a patient bleeding out on the table, the floor drenched in blood, and his wife on the floor, entirely nonresponsive.

Drama! I don't like Owen, but even I'm not heartless enough not to feel for him as he collapses to the ground and tries to wake Teddy up. What the heck is going to happen from here? I was getting Schmitt flashbacks, seeing that patient on the table, an attending coming into the room to see what his students hath wrought in his absence, but like... what were they supposed to do? This is some juicy stuff, and I'm looking forward to seeing the aftermath of it all whenever we get back to this show. Given the writer's strike, we may have a longer wait time than usual, but that's not the writers' fault!

In all, these final two episodes were truly a mixed bag. I am so annoyed about Jo and Link. I still strongly dislike Nick. But the drama that I enjoyed most was the stuff with our younger crop of characters, and I think that bodes well for the show's longevity!

7/10

[loulougoingsolo]

Don't ask why I wrote this (thoughts on the latest Ear biscuit)

It's been a good while since I've written down my thoughts on an Ear biscuit episode. I can tell you, there are probably dozens of unfinished drafts saved on my tumblr. I'm determined to post this one - if that doesn't happen, hi, me, from the future, trying to cypher why this text never got posted.

This was the rpisode after Good Mythical Evening, and, as we learn from Link, Rhett is still sick, but I think it's safe to say he's not premused quite as dead as he was during the Streamys anymore. Because of all of my neuroses, I've been genuinely worried for a few days, but I guess it's okay to breathe again.

So, Link was doing the podcast with Jenna, and I have to say, this was an excellent episode. The past few times when Jenna had been on the podcast with both Rhett and Link, the dynamic has been a little off, more confrontational with Rhett and Jenna teaming up "against" Link (which of course is not really the case, but because I tend to see things more like Link than Rhett, I'm often rooting for him). This episode, Link and Jenna have a great discussion as complete equals, and it is really enjoyable.

First, Link and Jenna go through GME and the Streamys, and sounds like they are both proud of Link's performances on both occations. It seems Rhett was pretty sick on the night of GME already. I hope GME 4 happens next year, not just because I've loved every show thus far, but so they get a chance to do one with both guys not sick, and with the technical stuff going as planned.

My heart kinda melted, when Link said he was missing "his dude" at the Streamys, and turns out he had talked about what to say on stage with Rhett. The way he presented Mr Beast's award was epic, but apparently, had they won Show of the Year, something even better would have happened. Next year, maybe.

So, the majority of this episode is dedicated to a solo camping trip Link made (with Jasper) during their summer break. He compares notes with Jenna on why they both enjoy solo travels, and talk about things you gotta do to stay safe while staying in the wilderness alone.

The reason I ended up writing my thoughts about this episode, in particular, is that listening to Link and Jenna talk about how freeing solitude is. I got envious.

The reason I've been so absent from Tumblr and everything else is that with my parents getting older, a lot of my time these days involves me doing things for them. My dad was diagnosed with Alzheimer's last year, and he no longer has his driver's licence. My mom has had some pretty major health scares in the past year, and it's near a miracle she is currently alive and actually physically functional. As if these things weren't enough, my sister was diagnosed with cancer, went through surgery, chemo and radiation therapy in the past year, too. She is doing better, now, but with my parents and my sister all struggling, I've suddenly ended up being very necessary. And that means, the most time I've had for myself in the past few months has been two days at most, but usually, not a day goes by without someone needing my help. And, I could really use a solo trip right about now.

Link talked about how being alone gave him a sense of being fully in control, and that made him happy. And for Jenna, solitude meant freedom. I can relate to both of these feelings. I've never really been able to be truly myself when other people are around, and it can be really suffocating. For me, it took a world wide pandemic to figure out that I actually like being me, but the problems, the anxiety and stress, emerge when I'm expected to interact with other people. As much control as I have over my own existence, I can't control other people. I've tried, doesn't work.

I csn't wait to see the video version of this episode on Wednesday. Link showed Jrnna a video he had made while watching the sunset with Jasper. I'm not religious, nor particularly spiritual, but if I ever feel connrcted with the universe, it's when I'm in the wild, surrounded by the beauty of nature. One August night this summer, I sat in the dark, staring at the sky, searching for shooting stars. I was alone at that time, apart from a million mosquitoes eating my ankles, and at the same time, I felt free, yet not lonely. And then I heard something crack in the dark, and, because I was in my garden, I calmly stood up and walked inside.

So, yeah, after sll of this nonsensical rambling, what did I actually want to say? Enjoy the little moments in life, alone or with someone you love. If you can, go on a solo trip - and if that is not an option, go outside, look at the stars and breathe. And even if this text probably isn't the best ad for this Ear biscuits episode, listen to it.

[gallifrey-grindelwald]

POV: you’re a regular human student at Mystic Falls

So there are couple founding families that are super rich and snob and their kids kinda rule the town; and these kids barely ever show up to class, but they are always present at school dances that happen every month and every party has a different theme so you spend a lot of money on decade outfits you only wear once just to keep up with the trend; also this one italian guy in your class Stefano Salvatore or something who knows like every historical fact up to the 1800s better than the history teacher, yes that guy, he kinda showed up out of nowhere and your friends alzheimer uncle says that Stefano was back in town 50 years ago looking exactly the same; also why are all the founding families kids so obsessed with tacky rings, what’s up with that; your history teacher wears one too? Okay but he’s also got a weird ass name, maybe that’s why; and this girl Elena Gilbert who’s kind of a local popstar seems to be dating two brothers, what does everyone see in her really? actually you know what, it seems like everyone dates everyone; wait  the history teacher moved in with the Gilberts as their guardian, that’s totally normal; also there’s only one place in town to go for a coffee, drink or go on a date and they literally blew it up one time; the city council blew up too; every now and then you or your friends weak up light headed with short memory loss and a wound on your neck or your wrist and noone knows why; animal attacks happen almost everyday but have you ever seen an animal in Mystic Falls?; at some point the water tasted funny for couple of weeks and turned out it was tainted with some wild herb apparently on purpose?? what if you were allergic???; the hospital constantly asks for blood donations; Elena’s brother faked his own death and she burned their house, man that was a wild Tuesday, ngl; and what happened to the mayor again? ; wow this is like the best town ever so lucky to be living here (not for long lol, they tell you to move out because of a gas leak??)

[z-cerulean]

Before the Coffee Gets Cold (2015)

yeah i read a book without pictures for once, haven't done that in a good while

Anyway, I work for a library, which inevitably involves a lot of seeing james patterson books. But besides those, one I noticed come in of some interest, and I figured, why not, now was a decent time to read something besides manga.

Base premise is a cafe in Tokyo gives people a shot to travel back in time, adherent to a number of rules, chiefly the one implied by the title. More below the cutoff.

So the book is actually basically 4 intersecting short stories that take turns between being background and foreground elements, kinda closer to a theatre play than a novel. Which would make sense, this was apparently initially conceived of as a stage play then later adapted to a book.

In no particular order, the four stories primarily followed are - - an elder couple where the husband has developed alzheimer's - a mother concerned for her child - a younger couple where one leaves for america for their career - a hostess who ran away from the family inn that she would inherit

Overall, I do like this plot structure, it's pretty nice to see the previous stuff get some extra resolution or extra background context prior to the actual story role they get, really fleshes out the overall atmosphere and world of the book.

These stories involve one of the group traveling through time for closure on an event, of which require a set of strict rules to follow, but basics is waiting for a ghost (yes, seriously), to ditch the one chair in the cafe that allows time travel, doing so forcibly will get you cursed, never leave the chair while in the past, and drink all the coffee for it before it gets cold or you're kinda screwed or something.

The basic rules of the event are pretty solid, though this does lead into my main complaint; the book just kind of comes up with new time travel rules when it feels like it, even as far in as the fourth story. It happens entirely too much and I kinda wish the rules were ironed out completely within the first two stories.

Kinda minor but it also doesn't really do much with the failure to drink the coffee, though this book does have two sequels so maybe that's for those.

Besides that, the supernatural stuff isn't particularly explained, granted kinda usual for some stories but I feel the ghost in the time travel chair needs a bit more elaboration than provided.

Despite this though, the book manages to be pretty memorable by way of emotional impact, it lands on pretty much every count. The cast works well in its favour as well, pretty much all of them are reasonably distinct from each other.

I knocked this out in about 3 hours overall on a quiet shift at work, for short 200-ish page books, you could do far worse. Probably a solid 7.5, 8/10, I'll pick up the sequels when I can.

Apparently it got adapted into a 2 hour film in Japan, there is little documentation about on wikipedia but I might also look at that given opportunity.

[hollyhomburg]

@jjungcookie Don’t pretend you don’t love the craziness 🥰 but you’re right! So many things did happen, honestly- I think this chapter functions not only as like a “the secrets come out and there are a lot of feelings about it” but also as a recap for you guys because holy hell this has been a long ass story

ohhh!!! So!!! I forgot to add it to the notes but the line ‘a pagan in a house of god’ is actually a line from one of my favorite songs- square circles by moon taxi. It’s a really good song! You should give it a listen; I can’t take total credit for it- but the ‘out of place and out of mind’ was from me.

Hmmmmm SO! I don’t think that moonbyul’s angry at the m/c for the kiss, I do think she’s angry at Tae for kissing /her/ pup however. As for if the m/c has a gun to her head or not….we’ll have to wait for the next chapter (ah I’m being mean- I shouldn’t be mean to you~)

Ahhhh this next paragraph, about the assassin that was killed, I don’t know if I’ll ever write it and go back and clarify, but the person who killed that assassin was a third party…it’s referenced a few times throughout the series, but the person who was the youth in the coffee shop that over heart Hobi and the m/c’s conversation, who was then killed by Moonbyul- was beomgyu from txt. It’s described in a few chapters how his pack is still looking for his killer and any information on his murder, I think it was yeonjun- getting that much closer to his inevitable revenge. I have a little whole side plot idea with them that I’ve never added into bily because it’s too long.

As for the plot- all you need to know is that there are other forces that are trying and converging on moonbyul besides the pack, and that she’ll behave differently as a result of it. I also might change this part of the story, idk! I don’t always have every little thing figured out.

The cousin who she’s talking about is Yoongi! you sent an ask about that because I forgot an apostrophe! There are no multiple cousins, Yoongi is the only one who she’s talking about.

Okay so, I really want to answer this next paragraph, and please bug me about it approximately 3 chapters from now because I promise it will all make sense. There is one final secret that’s yet to come out, and once it does, all of those questions about the pack’s protection and what they have will be answered, because they themselves don’t know what will give them the upper hand just yet.

I want the m/c to kill Moonbyul too, I want her to do it so bad, this is one case where my plans for the series and my feelings on it /might/ diverge a little bit. Because I wrote this story at the beginning wanting to not only talk about the line between what you’re willing to tolerate or not tolerate when it comes to a lover lying, but also that punishment for crimes, is sometimes not possible. Sometimes the greatest revenge is getting to be free and forget what they did to you. I’ve always said that this story will have a happy ending and moonbyul’s going to end this story wanting the m/c but never being able to have her, or else. I think that’s a better punishment for her than dying.

OH I’M HERE FOR THE NURSE HATE- honestly fuck them bitches!!! Namjoon didn’t get angry enough at them.

Oh my god you are so right Jimin and Tae would have literally demanded a mating ceremony in that hospital bed if Jimin had been anymore gravely injuired. Like come on- even as it is now in the story he’s basically fine even if he tares his stitches like- the internal healing is all good.

Honestly, at this point, it’s really just Hobi’s secret that we have left to cover, I will be!!! Quietly freaking out about it!!! It’s gonna take me a few seconds to properly catharsize that the thing I’ve built up with you guys over the past few years is gonna drop in like…2 chapters…maybe at the end of the next.

As for my grandmother, it’s been a long time coming and she’s got like, alzheimers and dementia, but every time I cook for her she always loves the food. She’s the one who taught me how to cook (and also taught my mom how to cook) I think, there is so little of culture that is passed down sometimes in American families, but there’s always the cookbook, and mine has her notes in it. She’s got prettier handwriting than I ever will and I’ll always be cooking for her in a way. Even after she’s gone.

See you next time too <3 I always look forward to your comments, they make my day and make writing this so much more fun, I can always count on you <3

Before I Leave You (Pt.65)

(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: The truth always comes out one way or another, and with Jimin temporarily whisked away for surgery- it's up to you and yoongi to answer Namjoon's questions.

Tags: Angst, blood, guns, murder, discussions of morality, descriptions of dead bodies, discussion of past spousal abuse, confessions, hurt/comfort, sickfic, hospitals, reconciliation, vmin focus, Trans! tae, Everybody lives nobody dies,

W/c: 15.0k

A/N: this chapter is a bit heavy on the dialogue but! sorry that this chapter came out when it did, we're finally here! sorry for the break in chapters- I got some not great news about a family members health and wanted to spend some extra time with them over the holidays.

Previous part - Masterlist - First part

The abandoned industrial building rises without warning from the mist and fog. You could almost call in lonely. Although it has its comfort in its stillness, the same way that monsters that do not move do not instill fear. A foe vanquished but not forgotten.

The body. The dust. The puddle of blood by the door is more than enough evidence for plausible deniability. The faint splatter of it here and there like confetti left after a parade, or flower petals that fall in spring and pile up like snow.

Moonbyul stands in the doorway, like a pagan in a house of God. Out of place and out of mind. Dark coat unblemished by dust or blood. She doesn’t stoop to touch the ground or try and clean up the evidence from Jimin and Jin’s misbegotten hours here. She doesn’t think Hobi’s name, although she knows it.

God does she know it.

She’s poured over all the files that her men have collected about your pack for weeks now. Searching out weaknesses like a snake searches rabbit holes for soft fur and an easy meal. She’d spent the most time lingering over Tae’s file. The photos that shift from short hair to long, lipstick that she finds too pink and distasteful.

Red is better color.

She'd spent a long time pouring over Jin’s too because she’d needed to. Jimin and her cousins had been glossed over. She already knows enough about them to last a lifetime.

But only one file had given her paper cuts. Revenge on paper is not as sweet as it should be.

She doesn’t need to read that file anymore. Although she hears the words that the youth said so many months ago on repeat, you and Hobi in the coffee shop caught only on security camera. “I think I heard something I shouldn’t have”. As well as the ones that followed.

Contrary to popular belief, Moonbyul doesn’t like killing. She views it only as a necessity. She looks at the blood on the floor without any disgust. It’s been a long time since she’s cleaned up any alpha's mess, and she’s not going to start now.

She looks down at the blood and smiles. It’s a rare thing- seeing her smile. It’s different from her grin that bares her teeth. Sharped incisors changed and honed just before she’d been appointed the head of the moon family.

She remembers her mother's words when she’d looked at them in the mirror for the first time, She remembers that she could still taste the file they'd used to carve them. Metallic, like blood on her tongue.

“All the most dangerous alphas have fangs; you’ll need to learn to use them if you want to fill your father’s shoes.”

Familial death is more of a rite of passage than a time for mourning in the family. A time when power shifts and secrets get covered up or aired out. Like the moon waxing and waning.

Moonbyul hadn’t been born with fangs, the way alphas always are. Moonbyul hadn’t been born with a lot of things.

A smiling Moonbyul is either a happy or a bloodthirsty one. And a happy Moonbyul, when properly stroked- means they get privileges.

Privileges in their pack, amount to small little things most of the time. A night where they don’t have to take the heat inducers. A night where they can wear comfy sweats instead of the lingerie and stifling silk. But if they're extra sweet and good they get better things. A free evening where they can see their families as long as they come home before sunrise.

“Do you think he’s dead?” Solar is dressed as her clone today, with stockings pulled up her milky thighs flashing beneath the long hem. Extra extra cute in the way that she loops her arm into Moonbyuls and pouts. as if she's upset that her alpha is paying more attention to the murder than her.

She still smells faintly of sex, moonbyul, and her own ginger scent. Not like fresh cut- the kind that baked goods have around Christmas time.

Moonbyul smiles, rapping her long nails against where Solar's arm is curled around hers clinging to her as if her life depends on it. It does- Moonbyul and her both know it does. But Solar has always been a good pet. She’s never needed quite as much correction as Wheein who likes to know exactly where her cage ends and begins, or like Hyejin- who needs nearly as much combatting and careful maneuvering as their enemies.

She'd learned from Hyejin. Had never let the others have quite as much freedom or get used to challenging her. There's a reason why Hyejin had demanded to wear her mating mark and why Moonbyul had let her have it.

Omega's however sweet and however docile, still need a cage. Moonbyul's only ever tried to branch out of her tastes once, and she won't ever do it again. Disastrous as alphas are. They make piss-poor lovers and disobedient needy pets.

She sighs. Alphas and their messes.

In truth, the pack could use someone truly obedient, someone for whom being good is as easy as breathing to balance them out. The pack could use a good pup. The pack could use you.

Moonbyul burns in want, stewing in it ravenous. It’s not love, it’s not even really lust either. She’s never been an easily sated person. She’s always wanted too much, always finished the whole pint of ice cream in one sitting. She’s always wanted everything.

That’s why she’s smiling, because she’s about to get it.

She stands a little straighter, holding out her palm. “Why don’t we go see.” Moonbyul doesn’t turn to leave, however. She doesn't walk towards the body dumped at the back of the building, still bearing Jin's fingerprints. A single strand of hair would do it. She doesn’t make any move other than to reach into her pocket and take out a lighter.

She thinks of the family's assassins; The Bee, The Spider and The Wolf. She thinks of Park Jimin. The snake. Hopefully either dead or in the process of dying.

The body in the back of the building is another one of hers. She never thought that this would be the end of the Wolf, he'd always been one of their most reliable killers. Always showed up on time too, an exemplary employee. Not to be easily duped. She'll have to figure this out and pin down What did him in. But that will take time and energy, only one of which she has.

He was only supposed to wait in the wings and ensure that neither Park Jimin nor Kim Seokjin left this building alive, nothing more.

Sometimes things are just coincidences, sometimes if you're lucky- they're just bad luck.

This doesn't feel like bad luck, this feels like revenge.

Solar makes a noise in her throat, a questioning chirp. She really is trying to be her cutest right now. Moonbyul won’t reward her in a way that she likes, a way that she wants. Even songbirds still feel the itch to fly. Clipped wings and all.

She looks at the flame, sparking.

“Why won’t you just leave the evidence? Wouldn’t that be easier?” Solar is not as good as Hyejin at handling this sort of thing, not as experienced. But she’s currently handling other more important things. Things that need her finer touch.

Solar doesn’t understand why Moonbyuls going to light this place up like a fucking Christmas tree and do Seokjin’s dirty work for him. Solar is only a pup, and she’s been kept like that because Moonbyul likes pupish omegas.

She likes the innocence and obedience that people who weren't made for this kind of life have. So eager to please that they're willing to debase their souls. There is no greater sacrifice, no greater sign of love than someone willing to do anything for you.

This also happens to be why she likes you. Why she will have you. because neither Solar nor Wheein have ever been as good at this as you were. The perfect medium between sinful and pious. Cute even while killing.

And 5 is a prettier number than 4. 3 pups for her and Hyejin is a prettier number than 2. They need more than one for each.

Just one more pup, and then their collection will be complete. It took them so long to find the right one, so much trial and error. (Moonbyul despises errors. She's going to try and kill one before this is through)

She won’t let you slip through their grasp, not a second time. You should have never been Yoongi's.

“Wouldn’t it be easier to leave this as evidence? So that the FBI gets them all? We could just like- buy them off if they wanted to take her too-”

“Oh pup” she croons, half gentle. Flicking the lighter and letting it burn in front of her face before she tosses it The soil is so soaked through with gasoline that it lights as easily as a candle, slowly spreading from wall to wall and then- in the doorway, until the heat is too much and they have to move away.

“That wouldn’t be any fun now, would it?”

~-~

(Now, Namjoon)

Namjoon’s shirt is soaked so thoroughly with blood that it makes him cold. The hospital always feels cold, goosebumps rise like a mini mountain ranges on his arms. The hair pressed down where the blood has dried.

It’s not his first time covered in blood, but this time feels different.

He’s shivering, teeth clattering. His hands shake almost too bad to fill out the intake paperwork because he’d rather do it now than later. Park Jimin (registered, Kim) Alpha, weight 165 lbs (give or take a few). Blood type AB. No medications. No known allergies, no known prior conditions. No no no.

No.

Namjoon’s hands shake. He leaves Jimin’s ‘occupation’ blank.

Yoongi sits a few paces back, staring vacantly off into space. On the surface Namjoon would assume that he’s having no reaction and is feeling absolutely heartless about everything that's happened in the last 3 hours. But his breath becomes stuttered every few minutes, like he has to manually force himself to inhale and exhale. Like it’s taking all of Yoongi’s faculties to keep himself breathing and upright and not in a heap on the floor having a mental breakdown.

He kind of wishes Yoongi was crying and screaming instead. Then at least- Namjoon would feel like he had to be the strong one.

He can't get the feeling of stabbing Jimin out of his head, or the sound it it, the wet squelch of knife hitting skin.

Namjoon has cut into people thousands if not hundreds of thousands of times by now. But he’s only cut into someone he loves once, and god Namjoon never wants to do it again- won’t ever be able to touch warm prone flesh and hurt it, not after Minnie. Never again.

The pen in his hand weighs a million pounds. He contemplates asking for a piece of paper and writing out his resignation letter. he breathes in for 5 and out for 9, then sets it down on the clipboard and slides it across the counter for the nurse to take. Namjoon doesn’t hear her quiet tone asking him if he's alright and if there's anything she can do. just shakes his head on instinct.

There is a gaggle of nurses looking around the corner peering at Dr. Kim.

"Do you think he dresses like that outside of work hours?" "I never thought I'd be so attracted to jeans and a tee-shirt." Giggling in quiet voices.

It feels so strange, to hear people laughing while Jimin is dying. Namjoon almost wants to go bite their heads off and report them for poor bedside manner to the hospital manager.

This is Namjoon’s hospital. But Namjoon can’t find it in himself to smile or say thank you to the nurse when she tells him that the second she gets any news on Jimin, he'll be the first to know. He can’t say anything through the mountain of emotion in his throat.

If Namjoon’s love is a mountain, then his anguish is a river threatening to drown him. Yoongi smells like it- the line where water turns clear to brackish, Yoongi’s miserable scent has always smelled like the churning sea and now something that feels an awful lot like seasickness makes Namjoon sway on his feet.

Since he’s done with the paperwork, he promptly returns to Yoongi’s side and sits down. Only once he's sure he's stationary, does he pull a nearby wastebasket over between his knees to upend the contents of his stomach. It hits the top of old gauze pads crumpled up at the bottom and smelling like piss with a surprisingly violent sound, drawing the gaze of more than one person in the waiting room. At least it finally quiets the giggles.

Yoongi’s hand finds Namjoon’s knee, the hole in his jeans, The back of his ribs, stroking once twice. steady and hard the way that Namjoon likes. And Namjoon wishes he could snap at Yoongi. Wishes he didn’t curl into the touch. Wishes he was angrier. Wishes Jimin was perfectly alive and breathing and not going to-

Yoongi’s hand settles on the back of Namjoon’s neck, his throat, pulse hammering, thudding.

They’re just kids and Yoongi's hands are calloused. They've always been.

Deep down Namjoon still feels like he’s only 8 years old. Is just a kid and just starting to understand that the world isn’t all just papercuts and skinned knees; that it means something when people hurt. That it means something when you tell them you won’t let them hurt anymore.

He remembers promising Jimin something similar- a long time ago, the summer they all first met:

Namjoon remembers Jimin, standing in the apartment that wasn't theirs yet, after a movie night, the first movie night that the pack had ever had togeather (not totally togeather, becuase you and hobi hadn't been there yet but still).

It was the first time Namjoon had ever seen Jimin in something other than a designer sweater, sweats and a tee-shirt so ordinary that Namjoon was surprised it didn't make him look less intimidating. standing in the doorway waiting for Namjoon to notice him and look up from his medical journal.

"Yes Minnie? Did you need something?" jimin had shifted from foot to foot. looking up at jimin, a first slice of vulnerability in his eyes.

"Tae and Jungkook, they've got a bit of pain in them. I want to know what you intend to do with it." namjoon set his glasses to the side, the papers rustling as he forgets his reason.

"Make it better hopefully?" Namjoon had been struck with how oddly intense he'd been. Jimin had opened up with time and had gone sweet and trusting with the right amount of love. But he'd looked intimidating in his dark clothes and the wrinkle between his eyes like he was used to furrowing his eyebrows. A cute detail that Namjoon already wants to brush away. To touch. to cradle. To love.

He'll catalogue all of Park Jimin's cutest things in time. He'll treat love as a scavenger hunt, to find the softness in someone who tries so outwardly to be gruff and strong.

Namjoon's stained sleep clothes and promises felt all the more shabby in comparison.

"I need you to promise."

Namjoon had avoided it. Unwilling to meet his words with the same intensity. Jimin doesn't take chances with Jungkook and Tae. Tae's low laugh from the other room, Yoongi's matching grumble, overly fond already. Overly fond from the beginning.

"What about you? Doesn't everyone have pain?"

"Just promise."

"I promise to look after the three of you." Jimin had scoffed. Puffing up like a bird with too many feathers.

"I don't need looking after. Just them- when I go away for work."

"I know, but let me do it anyway." Smiling at the pretty alpha was so easy, so easy with the sounds of Jungkook and Jin's giggles in the other room. Laughter building itself into the walls around them.

"I promise not to hurt you or them. You have my word."

Namjoon lied, Namjoon lied back then and he didn't even know it. He upends his stomach again and Yoongi rubs down his spine.

“He’s not going to die Joon, he’s going to be fine.” Namjoon continues to empty his stomach, it’s pizza mostly, a bit of coffee, and a half-digested protein bar from this morning as well.

“Does hurting the people you love ever get easier?” Namjoon asks. Honesty, not anger in his tone.

Yoongi’s hair has gotten longer and hangs in his eyes. Yoongi never grew his hair out before you, always kept it in that short black sort of coconutty style. It makes him look older and all the more beautiful. Namjoon wonders if that’s why you like it; How regal it makes your mate look.

Yoongi has asked so much of Namjoon in the last few years, from leaving to coming back and bringing you. To hiding the mating mark and now this. Namjoon tells himself he should care more about Yoongi's lies and less about the fact that he just lied, period.

“No,” Yoongi grimaces. He always gets so quiet when things are bad, steady in that consistent way. He still hasn't stopped stroking Namjoon's back. Namjoon knows this is simply all Yoongi knows how to do, his first instinct is to love and not much else. “It was never easy.”

It’s not weird that they re-hash this now. Every time Namjoon learns more about how and why Yoongi left, he understands it more.

“I threw up too, just so you know- when I left, leaving you made me so sick that I hurled the second I got on that train. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.” He blinks back wetness in his eyes, “I don't remember if I've ever told you that."

Namjoon nods. He can't remember right now either.

It’s been an hour or so now since Yoongi drove fast but steady steady steady to the hospital. Namjoon in the back while he stabilized Jimin in much the same fashion that you'd done earlier. The rest of the pack should be here soon. The three of you only lingered behind to clean up a bit and change your clothes, covered with blood and muck and who knows what else.

Yoongi sits like a statue and Namjoon can’t even look at him, can’t ask any questions or even start because he already feels like he’s yelling, and Namjoon hates yelling. This isn't isn’t exactly the most private venue for secrets that could land Jimin in jail.

Namjoon's still not entirely convinced that stabbing him was worth it. Namjoon’s brain is dizzy with terror. He’s still dizzy when he turns and sees you walking through the front doors to his hospital, Jin and Hobi trailing behind you.

He remembers the way you’d looked the day they’d gotten you checked out for the first time; how you’d run and pressed your face to his chest and buried your face there like just the sound of Namjoon's heart could make every demon and monster go away. For a moment, Namjoon thinks you might do the same thing. But your steps are measured, slow, and purposeful.

Namjoons eyes train on you, following you as you walk,

Yoongi stands, leaving Namjoon sitting with a cooling pail of vomit between his legs. he says something to you, to jin, but you don't pause, continuing until you're standing in front of him.

You don't say anything to him, just peer into the bucket and make a disgusted face down at it. Namjoon's teeth feel too sharp in his mouth with such a tense jaw.

Hoseok is on the phone, face gaunt and tired-looking. He must have drawn the short end of the stick and has the job of calling Jungkook and Tae and telling them what happened. They really shouldn’t drive themselves, but all Namjoon can reasonably do is restrain himself from cornering you and Jin and start demanding answers. 

He barely even turns to Jin when the omega goes up to the desk and asks if they can have a room, please. A private place for the pack to nurse their worries and not crowd the already-packed waiting room. Namjoon couldn’t name the nurse by name right now if he wanted to but he’s well known here and well-liked too. They give them one of the adjacent exam rooms to wait- Jimin’s surgery will take a few hours more, and there isn’t anything to do but wait.

Terrible terrible waiting, terrible terrible time. (You get a bucket when you want a drop and a drop when you want a deluge. Time only comes in two increments; too much or not enough.)

You drop a hand on Namjoon’s shoulder without a word. After some beckoning Namjoon follows you into the room. Legs shaking and sluggish at first. The pack is quiet even as the door closes. 

But once Namjoon's moving it’s hard to stop, careening like a comet or a bullet in your direction. Staggering.

You’d taken precious seconds to change your blood stained clothes before following Namjoon. You all pulled on the first things you could get your hands on. Which is how you’ve ended up in your mate’s shirt and Jungkook’s jacket, and how Hoseok’s in one of Tae’s extra-large pink sleep shirts stained from hair dye underneath Namjoon’s puffer coat and a pair of jungkook's grey work out sweats. Jin had been a little bit more purposeful- his sweatpants match- his matching purple set.

Namjoon's shirt is dark from blood, the bloodstain drying crusty, sticking to his skin like glue.

To say that Namjoon is angry is an understatement; rage rolls off of him in quiet unending ripples carrying with it the strength to change the pack for good if he’s not careful. He doesn't walk to the chairs no- he bee-lines it to you.

He watches you startle and turn, eyes widening. You do not make to move out of his path. 

Namjoon has never made you feel afraid before, but the pulse of it, the threat of fear is there as he backs you against the wall until your body lies against it. Looming over your head, so much taller and larger than you.

An alpha. An alpha hunting.

You tremble but you do not move to avoid him when he corners you.

He has a tiny bit of blood on his face, and a hairline splatter, almost like a constellation of stars across his temple. His fingers are harsh and shaking when they dig into your cheeks, pinching them until your lips open. Your knees tremble and you press your palm flat against the wall.

His scent thunders so thick and consuming that you can't physically stop yourself from trying to bear your throat. Namjoon stops you, holding you in place.

His eyes are dark and heavy-lidded as he looks down at you, He pinches your cheeks harder, shakinging you just a little. His voice is steady when he speaks, inches away from low snarl.

“Never make me hurt one of our packmates again.” You swallow, although it’s hard. And he pinches again- harder before you get a chance to speak- to try and defend why you brandished that knife at Jimin hours ago. Namjoon holds your face the same way he held the knife- tenderly.

“I mean it. Never.”

He holds you there for a second longer before he lets you go, leaving you gasping. His hand slides down your throat to your shoulder and neck, You would fall over if it wasn't for his touch keeping you up.

“I’m sorry.” You choke out, a few stingy tears making themselves known at the corner of your eyes. Namjoon rests his forehead against yours and closes his eyes. His spiky silver hair hits your skin. Rough.

After a second, he opens them again. Nodding. And his scent loses its bitter edge. He guides you to rest against his chest. You take big gasps of his scent now that he's giving you permission. Your instincts thunder through you so viciously that you can't physically stop yourself from tilting your neck and bearing your throat. 

Namjoon just drags a finger down it, humming. He holds you up, arms around you, a shield and a cage.

“It’s not okay.” I’m not okay, “but I forgive you.” Your knees do give out when Namjoon’s hand brushes the back of your neck, fingers digging in, a half hearted scruff that feels a bit like an apology of his own.

Even if he wants to be angry, anger won’t accomplish anything. Especially with you. His anger will only make you afraid and although Namjoon cannot be expected to control his emotions all the time, you have no reason to fear him.

He's never going to hurt you. He promised.

He walks you two strides, to put you into a chair next to Yoongi. Your mate takes you from him. The plastic chair makes a loud scraping noise against the linoleum floor. Jin's on your other side looking just as tired as the rest of you.

You'll get no rest tonight, sleeping in Jimin's hospital room when he gets out of surgery. Every fitful dream interrupted by the oxygen monitor on his arm. the first few hours when it will go off twice and prompt examination of his vasculature and operation site as well as a fresh dose of blood thinners. The biggest danger going forward will be blood clots; one too large in jimin's arm could leave his hand with nerve damage, numb for good.

But for now, Namjoon looks down at you, yoongi, and jin sitting in the plastic chairs. Secret, killer, and agent. All there in a pretty little row. Namjoon glares down at the three of you and crosses his arms.

“Explain.” Namjoon can’t wait another minute, another second. “Explain to me everything going on in my pack that I don't know about right now or I swear I'll-"

Yoongi scoffs, "That you'll what? That you'll tear us apart Namjoon? that you'll leave? Look around you- we're already falling to pieces." 

"You don't honestly expect me not to be angry that I had to stab jimin do you-"

"No, but don't yell at her. I have my limits."

"I wish I was one of those limits, but i'm clearly not since you insist on fucking over our pack-"

Jin turns, cutting them off from their argument with the true shock of his next words. You know that's what he's intending- but it sort of backfires. "Joonie, Don't get mad at Yoongi or her for this. Especially since I'm the one who shot Jimin. It was an accident."

You flinch, then put your head in your hands, namjoon's scent goes impossibly thick and angry for a second before he gets it under control. You physically watch Namjoon's hackles raise. watch Yoongi push back in his chair, leg jumping, running his hands through his hair looking from you to Jin, then back again.

"Jin, you should have kept that to yourself."

"What the fuck-"

Namjoon looks like he doesn't know weather to cry or laugh. "You don't just shoot someone on accident-"

Jin's got the best scoff, one worthy of music screens not just the quiet tomb of this room. Your relationship that's dying all around you. "You don't just stab someone on accident either and yet here we are-"

There are some secrets you take to the grave and others that you keep for too long, so long that they make a grave out of you. Keeping secrets is like keeping someone else's heart beating, you run out of blood eventually. 

You might vomit up the truth all over the hospital floor just like Namjoon did a few minutes ago. You feel sick and light-headed and sort of like you might have low blood sugar. namjoon's scent, angry alpha affects you more than you realize.

You start to teater, and their next biting words get extinguished when you almost fall out of the chair, nearly sliding to the floor before Namjoon catches you. One knee dully aches as he picks you up like you weigh nothing, ducking in close, real concern in his face, all his anger gone.

"Shit are you okay?"

"Pup?"

"Just got lightheaded-" Whatever it was, your lightheadedness will have to wait for another time. It's honestly probably just stress. Your heart feels like it's beating extra fast, extra hard.

Namjoon places you gently back in the chair and Yoongi touches your shoulder, the trio of their concerned faces that you swat away.

"We should wait for Hobi." You still owe him an explanation- for earlier and these aren't the kind of secrets you say more than you have to. A cup of water gets thrust into your hands and for once, they fall silent.

When Hobi comes in he’s mostly quiet holding his phone in his hand. Looking at you from across the room. His soulful eyes watching you, head tipping to the side in deference.

"Tae's in-" It takes him a second to gather his words. "Tae's in a fucking state. She was crying so hard that Jungkook had to call them an Uber. I just told her Jimin had been stabbed and nothing else because I didn't know what to tell her."

"That's probably for the best we don't have to-" your mate starts, but Namjoon cuts him off.

"No, no more secrets. Not between any of us."

Hoseok still has a hickey from you on the side of his neck, from you earlier. Jin's fingers skim down the one on your shoulder where a mirrored mark sits knocking you out of your Hobi-induced reverie, red and bruising from his mouth. Jin raises his eyebrow at you, but now is not the time to tell him about you and hobi.

"We've got like- maybe 30 minutes until they get here."

You swallow past a lump in your throat, readying yourself for it, “better make it quick then,” Namjoon waits, Seokjin is silent, watching you, gaze flickering from you to Hobi every few blinks. Yoongi holds onto your knee, sliding his palm down to your hand, your wrist. Finger digging into the sensitive scent gland there and rubbing comforting circles.

You swallow hard. “We’re all on each other's sides, right?”

“Of course,” Jin crosses his arms like he's offended you even had to ask. You bite back your retort. Namjoon nods, so does Hobi.

Your hair flops as you nod. But you still look to Yoongi to wait for permission. After a breath your mate nods and spreads his hands, giving you the floor.

If there’s one thing you know it’s that you can’t do this alone, you and Yoongi, Namjoon and Jin, Jimin and Tae. You and Hobi. There is no separation here, not when it comes to your safety. Each of you cannot keep the rest safe on your own.

“I met Jimin a few months before I met Yoongi, I…Yoongi’s family-”

Yoongi resists the temptation to speak for about 10 seconds when you fall silent. You can sense the moment that the truth shifts, when it explodes at Yoongi’s tongue. Unbidden but frantic and relieving like it's taken Yoongi's whole being to keep all this in.

“My family, I've never liked calling them that. Blood means nothing to me, you guys, you guys were always my family more than them." The pack is silent but you lace your hands with his and nudge his thigh with yours, encouraging him to go on.

"My relatives run the largest network of organized crime on the East Coast, from Boston to Miami. Everything from racketeering to prostitution to production and distribution of pharmaceutical-grade opioids. cover ups, sale of illegal weapons, extorsion of political officials and blackmail. If you can think of a crime they do it. If you can think of a way to make money, they've got their hands in it. It’s one of the reasons why I don’t go home- why my parents-”

Yoongi breaks off, his voice going small and quiet. Wounds he doesn’t talk about- even to you.

“There’s maybe 200 of us now. I’ve got a lot of fucking aunts and uncles. We try to stay in our lanes, our cities, and deal only in our respective crimes. There's a lot of politics and a lot of people vying for control here and there, but only alphas are allowed to lead, omega's increases the bonds of power in other ways and beta's- You know how rare beta's are- in my family- i'm treated as second only to the family head. Being a beta offered me certain liberties. Other freedoms. Not only to avoid most of the violent stuff- but to leave and move around without asking for permission. It's like a get out of hell free card. Not everyone gets that."

You snort, crossing your arms over your chest, “You mean they didn’t exactly expect you to go about popping heirs or advancing the family business through murder and ruining innocent people's lives. not like they expected with me."

Hoseok shrivels his nose, He looks from you to Yoongi- eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “hang on i thought- Are you guys trying to say you’re fucking related or-”

“Oh my god daisy-”

You splutter, “gross- No, we’re not fucking like- blood-related or anything.” You tap your chest. "I'm non family- brought in from the outside. Which means I was just about as valuable as piss to the aunts. In our world the only reason to mate or marry is for power- any other reason and your spouse is considered disposable." you cross your legs, admitting something you've kept to yourself, not a secret just a suspicion. "Geumjae never intended to keep me around forever."

Seokjin makes a strangled noise and Namjoon runs his hands through his hair, “Jesus Christ.”

Hobi raises his hands bare, “Sorry! You’re not doing a good job of explaining!”

"Well, if you just gave me a minute to get to the point-" Yoongi seems to shake himself, to put himself together. “Like she said- I'm not expected to partake in the family buisness, Only alphas are allotted that 'honor'." Yoongi puts the words in quotations and adds an eye roll for good measure.

"Mainly- I’m treated as some sort of glorified advice Column. People call and ask me things and I’m required to answer or else they’d hunt me down and drag me back. They bring me in to coordinate stuff because I'm a beta and I keep everyone calm and keep them from killing each other and shooting out their squabbles. I tried to keep you guys safe that’s why I left but-“

Jin’s hand goes to yours, nodding, because he understands. “But not why you stayed away.”

“No. It's not.” The pack's eyes naturally stray to you.

“The heads of houses report to the family head and she directs them to me if they need a beta's touch. Only she hasn't- the new Don hasn't asked anything of me since taking power. When the last one died- my grandparents- I left to help with the transition. But the new Don doesn't need me."

You flinch, you try to hide it but Yoongi turns, ferreting out that there's a secret there without you having to confess it. Your voice is darker than they’ve ever heard. "It's not that she doesn't need you- it's that she doesn't trust you."

Yoongi tries not to sound accusatory. "Her trust isn't something you should be after."

“It’s not- promise I just-” You pick at a stray thread on your pants.

The linoleum floor in front of you is polished so clean that you can see your reflection in it. "She shouldn't trust me either- and she knows it. Believe me she knows it."

Now it's Yoongi's turn to look at you. To pull himself to the edge of his chair to try and get in front of you. A wordless question that he dares not speak.

"Before you, I was already trying to do whatever I had to survive. including doing what everyone else did back in that hellhole and ask for help-"

Yoongi stands, to much energy and panic in his body to stay seated. “You didn’t." This is a fight and a confession you shouldn’t have In front of the rest of them.

You look up at Yoongi, eyes beseeching. He's quiet and you make your words as measured and soft as you can. "I asked your grandparents first- and then when she told me as long as I did what she said she'd get me out I-"

“She’s more dangerous than Geumjae, you can’t have honestly been trying to trade one captor for another."

The whole pack is silent, watching the two of you. Not really understanding. But Jin- Jin pursues his lips. You don't know how he knows but he does.

Yoongi’s face goes truly white. Yoongi’s hands are shaking. Shaking until he grabs the handles of your chair, knees to the ground, bowed in front of you. Letting your silence stew for a second.

Maybe it’s a terrible thing to blame it on her, you hadn’t fought not to kill. But back then it had really felt like your only way out, the only way to escape the ever-suffocating pressure of trying not to die.

“For what it’s worth, I had no idea what they meant to you when she made me help her kill them.”

Something shifts in Yoongi’s stature, from surprise and shock to resignation so quickly you almost miss it. A tense set to his jaw but a tight-lipped understanding as his eyes flicker from your eyes to your lips and he rests his forehead on your knees.

He's very careful in his words. Slow with them and intentional when he lifts his head and stands. You don't know if they're lies. “Just like my parents, just like all of us in the family, I knew their days were numbered anyway.” But you loved them once you want to say. You’re not sure why you want Yoongi to be angry at you.

“I won’t apologize, not for what I had to do to survive.”

Yoongi cradles your cheek. Something dark and conflicted in his eyes.

“I know, but I’d forgive you anyway, even if you did it out of anger.”

“And Jimin?” Namjoon asks, Yoongi's hand drops from your cheek. "How does he connect to all of that?"

“I met him first, I asked him.” You hesitate. This isn't your secret to tell and you don't even know all of it- like how jimin even became an assassin or started killing. you don't know his motives. It's one thing to confess your own sins, and another to talk about Jimin's to them without his say-so.

Jin darts forward, holding your hand in both of his, “Whatever we say in this room- I’d never dream of recording. I’m not on anyone’s side but ours.” Jin screws his eyes shut tight, willing you and Yoongi to believe him. "Even with the FBI thing."

Namjoon whirls. He doesn't have to ask before Jin's spilling it. telling the truth.

Jin is measured with his speech, but it's his turn. No more secrets, that's what you've all agreed. "I've been working with the FBI for the last 8 years. They approached me back before we met Joonie- because of my proximity to Yoongi. First as an informant, then an agent and now the head of the task force.

"I only did it because I figured out that being a part of them was the easiest way to keep Yoongi out of jail. As long as I could reasonably assume I was the only one trusted and close enough to keep an eye on him, I could keep all the truly damning evidence out of their hands."

Jin turns to you, resisting the urge to reach out to you for his own comfort, you're looking at him like he's got three heads, but he smiles down at you, that pup-soft smile that he saves just for you when you're both nesting.

"I kept your name off of the photocopies of the recipie you used to kill them. Don't worry, no one but us knows." You look at Jin with new eyes, not a double agent but not an enemy either. Somewhere in between. Your heart pulses, and you grip his hand back.

Yoongi pulls his hands through his hair, angry, his tone grave "Well there's your reason-"

Hobi has been so quiet you've honestly almost forgotten he was there. Elbows balanced on his knees and watching the three of you on trial for Namjoon. "Answer to what."

"You don't understand Jin, you don't understand the laws of the family much less the one you've broken."

"The reason why someone's trying to kill you, if anyone finds out that Y/n killed them- everyone connected to them is fair game."

"You mean-"

"We're all done, if anyone finds out, that's probably why the new head of house was trying to take Jin out- to tie up a loose end."

"Hang on, I'm getting confused again." Hobi runs his hands through his hair, and it fluffs up. "Jimin's what again?"

“Jimin is an assassin, I asked Jimin to kill my husband for me but he said no.” You pick at a strand of thread on your pants, unwilling to look up and meet any of their eyes, not Namjoon’s or Jin’s. “Met him back when we meant nothing to each other. He still feels guilty for not saving me. We talked it out a while ago. It’s okay- I did it myself eventually- didn’t need anyone’s help.”

You look up at Yoongi and he looks like he might want to laugh or cry and can't pick which. “I don’t know much else about Jimin other than that he kills for the family."

"They've got people for everything, a few assassin's they keep on retainer," Yoongi clarifies. "People that anyone can hire if you've got the money for it. There are a few names that the family puts on a no-kill list, Children, the pack mates of the ruling pack, the heads of houses and their immediate packmates. If anyone kills a person on the no-kill list- their life is forfeit. I'm on it by default. The pack mates of the beta are on it too, All of you are on it. No one should be trying to kill you."

Yoongi's never paid much attention to the list, the waxing and waning names and faces and photos. he's been on it since before he was born and with no intent to kill or harm anyone and put himself even potentially in harm's way, he's never sought it out.

Maybe if he had, things would go differently.

A cold rush of realization rushes over you. "That's why Jimin and Jin ended up there" You stand up, adrenaline in your hands. "She was hoping they'd take each other out so she wouldn't have to break family law to kill them."

Yoongi shakes his head, "Something about this doesn’t feel right- something about this isn’t normal.”

Hobi’s phone dings before you can hash it out anymore. He looks down in his lap. “They're here,” he’s up and out of the chair, heading out the door and into the hall so quickly that the rest of you have to chase after him. Namjoon tugs you to your feet, staring at Yoongi and Jin. "Was that enough?" you ask.

"We'll talk more later." is all he says. But he does lace his hands with yours and pull you after Hobi. Your legs are so short you have to take two steps for every one of theirs.

“I wish Tae and Kookie were here for that-“

"They should know” your mate agrees, keeping pace with you in the hallway, dropping back with you when Namjoon accidentally lets go in his haste to get through the door. You make eye contact with Yoongi when you turn. Your back to one of those push doors using your body weight to push through it.

You pause, waiting with Yoongi on the other side of them.

“If anyone tells her about Minnie- should be me.”

(You know exactly how you’ll do it, you’ll tell Tae the story of you just like this. You’ll tell it like a story, with author notes and playlists near the end. You’ll talk about Jimin just like this; all of the good parts and all of the bad all in one. So that she might truly understand that having a choice doesn't always mean you're free to do whats right.)

Yoongi nods, “I can tell Jungkook. I think if I do it gently, he won’t get shocked enough to have a seizure.”

You pause before the doors open, to have just a moment with the two of you, just you and him leaning against it. He shifts closer, not holding you, hands by his side but he's close enough that you could rest your head on his shoulder. You do rest your head on his shoulder. Just to hear his heartbeat thud sluggish and heaven-sent against your ear.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there.” It feels like it’s been ages and ages since you’ve had a quiet moment with him like this. You resolve to have one, to make space for him when this is all over. A private date with just the two of you maybe. Whenever Jimin comes home. “To help with Jimin.”

“It’s okay. I’m sorry I killed your grandparents.”

“They weren’t good people,” Yoongi shrugs, you've never seen a sadder shrug. “I always knew that. They-” yoongi breaks off, stealing himself for a quiet confession. "I think they might have had a hand in killing my parent. She didn't like it- that they had so much power over me. Future of the family and all."

"You've never said-"

Yoongi pushes through the door, and a high pitched keening cuts off your next words. "Later."

You push through the door and Tae and Jungkook are already there. Entering through the outside doors with a puff of air into Namjoon and Jin's waiting arms. Namjoon holds Tae up as she wails and wails. Her cry high like a nightingale. Jungkook looks pale and shaky, settled under Hobi's shoulder clearly in shock.

You cut through them, ducking under Jin's outstretched arm and colliding with Tae before anyone else can join Namjoon in holding her. falling to little heap on the linoleum floor, just at the precipice of the long hallway that connects to the patient rooms and the nurse's stations to other surgical suites. Drawing countless stars, countless looks from passersby as Tae's sobs renew themselves, loud and broken.

You clinging to each other. Her arms around your shoulders, cradling your head like it's the last safe thing in the universe.

“Jimin,” her voice breaks, throat closing around nothing. Sobs wet and angry, hot tears dripping down her cheeks, big and unabated by hope. "Minnie- My Minnie-"

You cling back, getting your hands on her cheeks. “He’s gonna be fine, he’ll be alright- here- here let me help you up. We've got you Tae-”

Jungkook looks a bit better, a little bit less like he’s drowning. Jin reaches for him while you hold onto Tae. And JK’s nostrils flare, he steps back, looking Jin up and down. Tae clings to you on the floor of the hospital and you look up at them. At Jin and Jungkook, standing a pace apart. Jungkook's hands keep Jin from coming any closer.

“You smell like Jimin does when he comes home from his trips, you smell like gunpowder. And mucky-” Jungkook's voice breaks, "Jin? Why do you smell like blood?"

There are too many people around, too many people for something like this. You're just glad It’s a quiet omission, Jungkook’s scent is level and so is his breath.

Maybe you should give him a lot more credit. Yoongi might not have to tell him much.

Tae's tears hit your collarbones as she crushes you, sobbing loudly in your ear, immune to the string of sweet nothings that fall from your lips. Whispered against her temple.

To everyone else in the hallway, rushing in the late-night hum, you and Tae look just the way that you’d expect; Two girls clinging to each other, one tall and the other short. One an alpha and the other an omega.

The rest of the pack is so blinded by their concern and their terror that they don’t look up. They don’t look down the hall to see the figure standing there watching them. One second the hallway is empty of the dark figure and then next she's there- waiting for you.

Her pine and medicine scent is disguised by the smell of death that lingers here. Although more than 2 of the people there might recognize it if they had the patience to sniff it out. They're too distracted by Yoongi dragging Jungkook close and whispering in his ear to keep his voice down.

Moonbyul watches the scene from the end of the hall. Two coffees in her hands. One for her and one for you because she always assumes that you'll go with her when she asks. No matter what’s going on with your pack, Moonbyul is not the kind of person who you say no to. She’ll ask nicely for you to come one more time.

Or so she thought. Looking at you and Tae holding each other is giving her other ideas.

To love a man is something she's always been able to dismiss as a mistake. Little pups just don't know what they need and even less what they want. She'd been prepared to deal with you loving them, the alphas, on paper, even the admittedly pretty omega male currently in her cousin's arms.

But another woman? Even one like that?

Rage is not like other sorts of anger, it’s not like fire burning to take. Achieng to burn until all the heat has worked itself out. Rage is quiet, rage is darkness and a hunger that needs to consume. That will destroy even if you try to stop it.

It's one thing to know that you love a woman besides her, and another to see you peck kisses along her tearstained cheeks. The rage builds as she watches you cup that female alpha’s cheeks. She watches you brush her hair back from her eyes and tuck it behind her ears. She’s got honeyed skin and smudged lipstick (so inelegant) you wipe her tears away and kiss her cheek.

But what makes Moonbyul’s hands tighten into claws, her metal-tipped nails piercing the coffee cups and making them drip onto the ground, wet and hot, is the way you smile at her.

Moonbyul’s rage is like a tidal wave.

By the time the rest of the pack looks up, the hallway is empty except for a puddle of coffee on the linoleum floor and two discarded cups. One with red lipstick stains and the other without.

~-~

(18 hours later, Jimin)

Tae’s cheek is so soft. That’s the first thing that Jimin’s aware of as he wakes from surgery.

Coming out of general anesthesia feels like being a rickety buoy on the busy ocean. One second bobbing to the surface and the next crashing below the waves and taking on water. Sloshy. Everything feels sloshy.

He only feels her at first- not the hospital bed, not the scratchy sheets, Just the feeling of her cheek resting against the palm of his hand. Her gentle breath tickling his fingers in her sleep.

Jimin will always know the particular beat and cadence of Tae’s body. Would know it if the sun got snuffed out like a candle. Would know her breath anywhere because it’s the very fuel to Jimin’s soul, the very thing that sets the tempo to the heart monitor beating out a pleasant rhythm in the midafternoon hum.

Her skin is pillowy and sweet beneath Jimin’s flayed fingers, limp and cold to the touch because of the whole almost bleeding out thing. He doesn’t know it yet, but he's needed 9 units of blood in the past 24 hours. 4 right away, and 3 during the surgery where they removed the knife and stitched his arm together. And another two units just after.

Compared to his own body, Tae feels so warm.

At least Jimin can still feel his left hand. The doctors that stitched him back together must have done a bang-up job, Namjoon even more so. a lot of people can put an arm back together, a whole slew of them, but not many surgeons could stab someone carefully enough so as to not permanently injure them. There are only so many people that he would trust to stab him.

But Jimin trusts Namjoon with a whole lot more than just that.

When he opens his eyes (a task of herculean proportions) Namjoon isn’t there, it’s just Tae in one of those absurdly uncomfortable hospital chairs. She’s bent over his hospital bed in what must surely be an uncomfortable position to sleep in. Her back arched like invisible wings weigh her down. She slept like that, sprawled as close as she could get to Jimin without the nurses waking her up and telling her not to crowd him.

The smudged mascara on her cheeks flake like falling stars, little trails there were tears rendered it useless. Jimin wipes away a black droplet like he's banishing a ghost. She’s cried so much over the last 10 hours, most of her makeup gone and sporting a bit of 5 o’clock shadow too. The faint roughness that Jimin feels no more than once. Because to derive sensory pleasure from that feels…wrong.

He looks at the ceiling, wondering where the others are. He feels the edge of his body, the spot where the wound begins and the pain ends. Who knew gunshots and stab wounds could make you feel so sore? and tired too? Exhaustion pins his body to the bed like a butterfly to a corkboard.

A wire connected to his good hand tugs, But he ignores it in favor of cradling Tae's head and combing through the tangles in her hair. It's gotten so long now, just to her shoulders, but the bits feel so soft and gauzy against his fingertips. He wishes he could feel it forever. It’s much much better than the 5 o’clock shadow.

It takes a dozen passes for Tae to stir.

And then she startles awake, flinching into being. Fresh tears disrupt the mascara flecks as she beholds her soulmate and nearly tugs herself across his bed to get her hands on his face. To hold his cheeks.

To say that Tae has looked better would be accurate for jimin to say but the words would never grace Jimin’s lips. Not even close. Even with a crusty face and greasy hair- Tae looks gorgeous- so pretty that his heart pulses dangerously quickly. so quickly that jimin's suprised the nurses don't come by and check on him.

Maybe they haven’t given him enough opioids for his shoulder because for a second he feels his heartbeat ricochet through his whole body. To his fingers where he's touching her and back to his heart. Every echo and ripple Tae Tae Tae.

Tae bends over Jimin’s body. Her hands go to his face, fingers touching his smile, and thumbs pressed to his faint crow's feet and twinkling eyes. Clutching at him like he’s her lifeline (he is, a red string of fate that keeps her from drowning, always. She was stupid not to use it like an anchor).

“Pup told me.” She says, a note of finality in her voice, lower lip trembling, tears falling anew “told me you kept talking about me even when you were stabbed" she goes quiet, whispering the words like she's scared someone might be listening in.

"Pup told me everything."

Jimin’s eyes flick from her lips to her face, her body, everything. His hands are trembling, chest building with breaths until they’re heaving and the realization of just how much everything she must know hits him.

Tae knows Jimin well enough to know what a panic attack looks like- knows enough how to soothe it. Knows just to hold on and wait for it to pass. jimin's hands splay and flex, rubbing her skin once, twice, and then a third time in an effort to self-soothe.

"It's okay,"

"You mean you're not-" Jimin's heart monitor is going so wild that Tae has to tell him to calm down. Has to run her fingers up and down his scent glands on his neck, nipping at them to settle him. "You're not angry that I'm-"

That I'm a killer, that I'm a monster. That I've kept everything from you. Jimin readies himself, preparing himself for the speech he always knew he'd have to give. You don't understand, I didn't have a choice, I wouldn't have chosen this- I didn't I just. I never killed people who didn't deserve it- because I know that you'd hate that.

For the first time in their lives, Tae and Jimin are sitting across from each other- without a single secret to each of their consciousness. both of them free and perilously unmoored for it.

But there are no words that Tae needs when she looks up at him and smiles. Wetness at the corner of her eyes.

Seeing Jimin in the hospital bed had not felt like Patroclus and Achilles, it hadn't even felt like Orpheus and Eurydice. There was no roaring anguish. The kind that follows when people leave you too soon. Or the bitter vindication that happens when people leave at just the right time (it’s the worst when people leave like that. Either linger or make me miss you. Stay too long or leave me early. Either way is fine. I’ll feel more human if I’ve got longing or hatred to feel).

In truth seeing Jimin in the hospital bed, wires and hooks connected to him- keeping him alive and keeping him breathing, had felt like a second chance. She's not going to let something as simple as a secret spoil it.

Tae knows she should want to know more about Jimin's job as an assassin and should want to ask more questions (if not to understand her soulmate better, than for writing material). She Should be more revolted or disturbed or upset that her literal soulmate kills people for a living, but at the moment, all she can find in herself is just to be glad that Jimin is fucking alive.

It’s funny, how much your priorities can shift.

Jimin looks like he doesn't believe her. "Tae, you can't even kill spiders."

"Would you care?" Jimin falls silent. "Would you care if it was me in your position?"

Jimin swallows hard and winces. He doesn’t have to ask for a sip of water, because Tae has already gotten it for him by the time his good hand closes over his throat. His shoulder is bound so tightly in bandages that he can hardly shift it. Can't reach up to stop himself from spilling a bit of the water down his chin. Her nails (red polished and chipped) wipe away a drop on his lips.

(There's more that you weren't able to tell her just yet; a lot about you and Yoongi and Jin. You've decided to save the bulk of how Jimin ended up in the hospital bed until after Jimin woke up. Later when you can get her on her own you'll tell her. Probably after Jimin's discharged from the hospital. But the other secrets can wait for now).

It won’t really hit her until later. When she’s in her closet looking at all of her pretty things and designer clothes. Fingers toeing along the fine black cashmere sweaters, to the maroon dresses, to the scarlet ones, stopping just before she reaches the pink. The Dior, the Versache, the McQueen. It will only be then that she'll put two and two together and realize they were all paid for with blood money. With people’s lives.

It will bother her then; it doesn’t bother her right now. It will never bother her enough to think about leaving jimin.

How do you make the choice? What to condemn a loved one for? How do you pin down your line of intolerance when it's someone you love with your whole being? Can you decide at all or is it something that your soul chooses for you? The weight of one sin for another. what you're willing to go through.

They would have died anyway. Even if Jimin hadn't killed them, they had someone out there willing enough to pay for their death and they'd have died anyway she rationalizes. We're all going to die anyway.

Maybe it’s a silver lining that Tae no longer believes in the same kind of sin and wrongness that Jimin does. Doesn’t believe in God and heaven at all. Tae has always believed in soulmates more and believed in Jimin the most. More than any god or afterlife.

“I should be angry, anyone else probably would be but-” Tae turns her cheek into Jimin’s fingers, pressing her lips to his trigger finger. Eyes shining when she looks at him. “I’ve wasted too much of my life being angry at you, wasted too much of it feeling anything but love for you- Jimin- if you died, I-”

Jimin cradles Tae's cheek. “I’m sorry for Namjoon’s rut- for what I said. Didn’t mean it. Never mean it if I'm mean-” Jimin’s finger rubs across Tae’s lips, the wide part of his palm splayed across her jaw, and so much is said in that little touch. But they look at each other and laugh. "Not like Noodle."

It shocks a laugh out of Tae and she presses her temple to Jimin's jaw, feels his smile when the joint moves. She realizes that Jimin's still a little high. Probably too doped up on pain medicine to have this conversation but oh well.

“I never thought it would take you getting stabbed for me to realize it,” her lip trembles, “I don’t want to waste another second being angry with you.”

“I don’t want to waste another second with you either. Won't even sleep,” his eyelashes flutter, struggling to stay awake.

Tae pulls herself more firmly on top of the bed and Jimin shifts a little, wakes a little more when she slings a leg carefully over his hips. Being gentle, still conscious of his physical state. He uses his good arm to pull her up and up until She’s splayed across his lap.

Kissing Tae never loses its edge, it always feels like their first kiss, sweet and with that knotted bundle of anticipation. Jimin sits up into the kiss, sits up until his shoulder protests and he hisses into the kiss. "Don't strain yourself minnie-"

"Don't care just-" he pulls her hips snugly. After that words are sparse as they kiss, again and again, lips working together. Sloppy messy love kisses. Every breath tastes like love, every second of it. She giggles pulling apart for a second to get her breath, the heartbeat monitors in the corner going wild. Breath that washes over Jimin like a gust of spring air, cinnamon flower sweat, and heady. Tae’s kisses are better than a first sip of coffee or a breath of fresh air. (They’re better than living, just a little bit).

“If I was any less sore, I’d ask you to bite me right now.”

Tae grins, and it’s a special secret smile. “You said something like that to Pup too."

“I’m so lucky I get to be yours- don't want to waste the luck-" Tae shakes her head stubbornly pulling back.

"I don’t think that you should say you’re lucky. I’m so lucky that this person loved me, or I’m so lucky that I got to love them. Because when it comes down to it, love and luck are not the same thing. Love is not a single event, like winning the lottery, or finding a 100-dollar bill. Love is a choice and you have to choose it a thousand times. Every day you choose it. Luck is such a cop-out. It’s been really nice.”

“God, I hope I’m more than just nice.”

Tae smiles, “Shut up” She goes a little pale. “Actually don’t shut up with me like- ever. I guess that’s what I’m trying to say.” She plays with Jimin’s hands, “Is that when either of us- whoever- goes first-“ Jimin’s grip goes knuckle tight on her waist, he's coming out of it, a little more lucid with every breath. Waking up more.

“When one of us dies- I don’t want to question if I ever loved you enough, I don't want to rely on just luck. I don’t want to think about the days that I could have gone for coffee with you or could have kissed you longer. I don’t want to think that I didn’t get exactly what I wanted and you didn’t get exactly what you wanted too.

"I want to give you one extra kiss every time so that you get twice as much as you would have gotten otherwise. I just want to think that it was nice, that every moment of it was nice- even when we fought, I want to look back on it and think ‘even the sad parts were nice and I got more than I thought I would.' No luck involved.”

She grins down at him, that same youthful grin she’s had her whole life, Jimin thinks of it sometimes- how many times she’s smiled this way and he hasn’t seen. How many more he will see.

“Also, y/n says that you’re allowed to mate me, but not marry me. She says my ring finger belongs to her.”

Jimin slides up the bed, flipping her over, supporting himself with his good hand, sending her sprawling and giggling. His growl is half hearted but promising. Tae laces her hand in his greasy blonde hair and it stays there.

It stays there.

~-~

The rest of Jimin’s hospital stay goes a bit like this:

There is a pair of suits outside the window, dark and imposing. plain clothes police officers watching and waiting like vultures. They’ve already taken statements from the pack but demand to hear from Park Jimin himself.

Lies from the source always taste the sweetest.

There is a story ironed out and penned in stolen moments, you curled up in one packmate's lap and transferred to another, "the pup" Jin had said, the youngest, was not taking her alpha's stabbing well. "She just needs a bit of soothing, sorry." The suits are charmed enough by two cuddling omega's that they don't notice your mouth pressed to their ears, like a game of cuddly murderous telephone.

The story gets ironed out easily, you’d all gone out for pizza, had come home to find Jimin bleeding in your kitchen.

“It’s pretty normal for Jimin to be reckless with his health. I’m not surprised he tried to come home and see if I could stitch him up himself. I'm a doctor at his hospital- Dr. Kim, pack alpha and head of neurosurgery. The knife- you should know I touched it on accident he wanted to remove it himself and I just had to stop him- I’m sorry- I should have known better I was just- so shaken.” Namjoon is a passable liar at best.

Jungkook has folded himself under your mate’s arm, and Jin’s too. He’s still vaguely shaking, bunny eyes wider than usual. In a little bit, Namjoon will drag him over to an empty exam room for a quick check-up. Just to make sure he isn't about to seize on the floor. Yoongi will go with him, Will tell him the truth about all of this then.

But what, with his comment earlier, you wouldn't be surprised if Jungkook has already figured it out on his own.

Jimin doesn’t even need to be coached into remembering it. The police don’t even think of not letting the pack see him, after seeing Tae’s teary eyes. A pretty girl is the best distraction, and the pack has two pretty girls that smell sour and need to tend to their alpha before the police get a chance too.

They’re impatient as they watch you and Tae fold yourself over Jimin’s barely aware body, more preoccupied with looking at your asses than they don’t see your lips moving against Jimin’s ear, mistaking your shaking for the racking sobs. And your quiet words for sweet nothings.

Hobi had barely leashed a growl, and resisted the urge to step in front of you and block you both from their sight.

The story is so easy and simple- a true case of Ockham’s razor. The simplest story with the least details is the most likely to be believed. the story Jimin tells the police goes like this;

Earlier yesterday, a crazy fan of the idol group he guards that must have followed him from his schedule with intent to learn his schedule and get closer to them. Her description is so ordinary that they’ll never find her because she doesn’t exist. Any person found will easily be made inculpable; either by alibi or honesty. Not that the law cares much about honesty, nor that any of you care about possibly implicating a stranger.

Love always did make people go to extremes, it's easily believable.

Nothing else matters. Besides keeping everyone safe. You're united against this.

Once they're gone, other promises get made:

“I want you to quit, this is too dangerous, if something like this happens to you again, I don’t know if I’ll be able to handle it.”

“We need to make sure we travel in pairs until we figure out what’s going on, why they're targeting Jimin and Jin.”

“I can ask some of my contacts-“

“You’ll do no such thing Yoongi.”

“Do you think we should be like- Armed? Just in case?”

“I don’t think more guns will solve anything but…Maybe.”

In a stolen moment, Namjoon corners you outside Jimin's hospital bedroom, he's holding three bags of takeout, not that Jimin will really be able to eat much of it. The opioids keep down his appetite. That doesn't meant the pack won't try to fuss. As it is, Jimin hasn't been interested in anything but kissing Tae and holding her hand. Pouting whenever the nurses make tae leave.

"I'm sorry for yelling at you earlier," Namjoon has always found apologies easy and has never had so much of an ego that it would get in the way of any of it.

"It's alright, between you and me, I think it was kind of justified." You'd probably yell at all of them if they convinced you to stab Yoongi or tae or any of them.

"No more secrets, okay? Promise me this is the last one." It's easy to promise Namjoon that, so easy. To let him scent you, rubbing his coffee liquor scent all over your shoulder.

(But it's not about the promises that you make, it's about the ones that you break.)

You sit out in the hallway the following morning, still in the same clothes and starting to feel a little bit filthy because of it. None of you have gone home yet. Hobi sits next to you and Jungkook's on the other side.

They’re just checking Jimin’s stitches again, and his hospital room just got a bit crowded. The prospect of checkout is maybe a day away. Tonight is the last you'll have to spend at the hospital.

It was also time to talk over Jimin’s opioid regimen, and the doctor had been nearly delighted when Namjoon had stepped up and taken the lead, reassuring the doctor under no uncertain terms that Namjoon would manage them. You can forgive him for thinking a little too much with his hindbrain. If Namjoon leaned any more into his instincts you'd be worried he was close to going into a rut again.

“Is this what it’s like when I’m in the hospital?” Jungkook asks, sucking on some skittles. It's more sugar than he should be allowed to have especially during a high-stress situation. But Jungkook’s taking the panic to get a little bit of freedom. You cast a glance at Tae, at Yoongi and Jin, standing by the door looking like he’s about ready to twitch out of his skin with the effort it's taking him to stand outside.

Jin had apologized- him and Namjoon both, and Jimin had accepted it instantly. "If I trust anyone to shoot and stab me- it's you two so-"

"But-" they'd argued, but eventually Jimin had turned a little scary, a little threatening. showing a hint maybe- of a persona they're all unused to but you're not. Jimin can be firm when he needs to be. A quick retort of-

"Forcing me to comfort you over something I'm not upset about is not the way to make me forgive you." Shut them up for good (or at least for now).

“Yeah, pretty much.” You hold out your hand for some skittles and he gives you a few. Hobi grimaces and reaches over to take the orange ones out of your palm. He knows you don’t like those. He replaces them with a few green ones.

"It’s fucking boring. I should get you guys like- a DS or something for Christmas.”

“Don’t tell Minnie or he’ll blow all his money on-“ You cringe at your words and Hobi flinches. Jungkook just chews on his candies, they smack against his teeth with a hard clinking sound.

There is still some of Jimin's blood under Hobi's fingernails. You see it when he reaches over to take your Skittles.

The next time Hobi moves to take your Skittles, you grab his hand and pull him to his feet. "Come on."

You lead Hoseok into the women's bathroom, underneath the curious eye of the nurses, all the stalls are empty so you pull him over to the counter.

“You’ve got some- stuff- under your nails- let me.” You rip a handful of paper towels from the dispenser and wet them. You clean Hobi’s hands diligently and he lets you.

He stays quiet, Hobi's been quiet for the last day or so. He hasn't done more than whisper a few quiet words to Jimin and stay close. He didn't say anything during your secret confession yesterday. Didn't ask a single question and the silence bleeds now as you scrub the clean-smelling soap against his skin. Your anxiety builds, and you scrub a little harder. His fingers remain limp in your touch.

“Say something- say anything okay? I need to know that you’re not-” not angry with me. That you don't hate me- that you still love-.

Hobi pulls you against his shoulder in a single clean movement. His wet hands hit your stomach when he grabs your hips. Your nose brushing his throat, his nose skimming your hairline.

“I’m trying not to take too much energy from Jimin- trying not to- be a mess- because he's the only one who deserves the packs attention. I'm not even sure if I am a mess about it. Sure that sucked but-" he sighs, "you and I are kinda like- uniquely able to handle things like this cuz of-" he doesn't need to finish his sentence. Hoseok's lips brush your ear, lips touching your skin, and- he pulls back, smiling softly. It's a tired smile but there it is- soft and special and just for you.

“You’re taking things, remarkably well considering the last time we…”

“The last time we had to deal with something like this?”

You hum, scrubbing a paper towel hard over the ends of Hobi's hands. The white paper goes orange-red with dried blood. "Give it time. There’s still a few weeks for me to go crazy this time.”

But this time, you have a feeling that it will be different. Although Hobi was there the last time- and played an instrumental role in making sure you didn't literally fall apart. It's different now. Right now, your hands tangle on the counter, holding on, even though you try to clean his hands of blood. Holding on is more important, neither of you tries and pull away. You don't have the energy for shyness.

What's more intimate? Sex or murder?

He huffs a small frustrated sound and stoops to rest his forehead against your shoulder, leaning almost all of his weight on you. You take it.

“Maybe this time I’ll take a crack at going crazy.” You laugh, stopping your brushing and just settling for holding him. Hips resting against the counter. The two of you rest, just for a moment.

Your nose against the side of his face where his undercut presses to your skin, spiky. "Still have that train ticket?" Hobi humms, taking a deep greedy breath of your scent to steady himself.

You're not expecting him to pull back and kiss you, but his lips are dry but warm, faintly chapped but yours are too. Pressing soft but demanding against yours. Hobi kisses you just as sweetly as last time and you grip the front of his jacket.

No sooner has he heaved you up on the counter, fingers hooking under your thighs to kiss you stronger- than is the door clanging open and a nurse comes barreling in.

"Ugh- uhm." She's a little stunned, but you're already hopping down, faces flushed and apologizing for the inconvenience.

You don’t throw the bloody paper towels in the garbage, but the toilet, flushing them once, then twice, to make sure that they’re down. Mumbling one last apology before you exit the bathroom together.

Hobi doesn't let go of your hand. You wonder if this is what loving him is going to be like; making out in places you shouldn't, special secret stolen glances when you keep holding hands even around the pack and keep stealing kisses.

You wonder if the kissing will stretch to the cars- to the late night drives, if he'll hold your hand like this around every hairpin turn. If Hobi's going to make you a make out playlist later, full of songs that make him think of you, songs that match the cadence and pitch of your heart. You wonder if loving him will be like this, stolen innocence, like finding sea glass on the beach. There and pretty for the taking if you only look for it.

Your heart feels all warm and tight with it, swaddled. Protected as Hobi tugs you back into Jimin's hospital room. You can't wait to find out.

The next few hours look like this; Namjoon sitting on the foot of the bed his hand on Jimin’s knee, feasting on hospital food. Jungkook giggles, and nearly throws himself across Jimin’s lap so that the alpha can put his hands through his hair. Looks like more takeout, living off of it because no one wants hospital food and you can't go home and cook. You refuse to leave right now.

It looks like Tae smiling for the first time In what feels like years but has logically been only a few hours. Rubbing a hand across her jaw and wincing when she feels the stubble.

Her wince quiets the sounds of the pack happy. And you look up from your plate.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, always stupidly attuned to her and her needs, always watching and waiting.

“I need to freaking shave and I just- I haven’t had the chance to.” Tae lets out a tired sigh, the kind of deep frustration that comes with things that you have no choice but to do.

You take her hand from her chair and tug her up. Because this- this source of angst can be fixed.

“Here- come on,” A shaving razor gets found for her, Namjoon goes to the surgical ward to get the right kind. Sharp and medical and disposable along with a tiny tube of shaving gel. You drag her chair into the bathroom and make her sit while you do it. Lathering up her cheeks and tipping her head back. The whole pack a cacophony in the other room. The shock of skittles and other candies falling onto the floor. Muted words then soft laughter.

You drag the shaving razor up her chin, over her chubby cheeks. Your gentle touch, the soft scrapping of her hair against the blade a gentle accompaniment to the sounds of the pack passing the time until Jimin wants to go to sleep. Jungkook's phone plays a tictok loud, "Bunny- headphones, Minnie's trying to rest" Yoongi reminds him.

Jimin is struggling not to fall asleep, shifting to one side of the hospital bed just to get a better vantage point to look into the bathroom at Tae. Jimin cranes his neck.

Tae's face twitches, and underneath the white froth you see her reddening cheeks. “Stop looking at me.”

Jimin grins from the hospital bed, “Can’t help it, love you.”

“Love you too Minnie” She choruses back, and the pack joins her.

that night, namjoon and yoongi push three hospital cots togeather around jimin's bed and the pack piles in, sweet bodies and kissed cheaks, whiped down with sanitary towels, you end up tucked between tae and hobi, your cheek pressed to her back.

the following morning it becomes impossible to ignore both how purely filthy the 8 of you are and the fact that Jimin's doctors won't let him check out until tomorrow (and even then he'll have days of bedrest and won't be able to use his arm until he gets his stitches out.) You haven't been home in two days, no one can remember if you even locked the front door with how crazy leaving was.

It’s hard to convince Tae to go with you and leave Jimin's side. But she's less resistant when Yoongi reminds her that Jimin needs new clothes to go home in since all of his bloodstained clothing was discarded as medical waste.

“Honestly we should get like- to go bags full of a change of clothes for all of us when like, JK has his seizures,” Maybe it’s just because you’ve done overnights twice in the last week at the hospital- but the idea doesn’t seem like a bad one.

Jin drives you, Hobi, and Tae home in silence; no one tells Tae any of the other secrets yet. Tired as she is, almost falling asleep in the car. Waking with a start when you turn onto your street.

It's a little shocking. When you get home to a cold and quiet house. Jimin's blood has dried up into dark waxy puddles, on the kitchen table and the floor. There are fingerprints from someone, rusty and red on the doorframe. It's stark to see the evidence. To see a bit of it on the butcher block countertop all the terror and the color leached out of it in the grey afternoon light.

Tae is so stumbly that Hobi has to grab her twice just to keep her from walking into walls when he gets her inside. Noodles immediately yowl has you feeling terribly guilty, he circles your and Hobi's ankles. But you push at Hoseok's hands when he stoops to pick him up.

"Take Tae upstairs and shower with her, will you? I'll be up in a second, just gonna feed him and get some stuff together." She's blinking and looking at the bloodstains, eyes already looking glassy with fresh tears.

You need a second, a second in quiet, a second alone just to steady yourself. Jin comes in, dragging in a mountain of mail from your box, "I've got them, come on pups, grooming time."

Jin pecks a kiss along your forehead, "Come up the second you finish?"

You nod, "Just want to get some food first too- hungry."

Jin nods and makes to follow Hobi and Tae but pauses on the stairs. he looks like he wants to say something to you. Eyes full of something unreadable and warm. Unspoken words hover.

If he had to choose anyone, I'm glad he chose you.

But before he can get it out Tae calls from upstairs. "Jinnie? Can you grab one of my comfy sets from the closet down there before you come up?"

You stand, solemn in the kitchen, listening to the sound of them on the creaky stairs, the sound of their quiet voices. The creek of the house as they walk around upstairs.

"Here you go baby," you say, giving Noodles an extra spoonful of food. You know you left enough for him in his bowl and that he didn't suffer too badly. But still, his purring chirping is music to your ears. You pet over his back, his fluffy tail.

He's Still chubby, still good. You aren't too bad of a pet owner then.

There's the gun still there, sitting just to the left of Jimin's blood splatter on the seat of one of the dining room chairs. You're at eye level with it from where you crouch down to pet Noodle. It's the same one that you pulled out from under the bed when you found out he'd been shot. You should probably take it with you when you go back to the hospital, just to be sure.

"You got any secrets for me nu? Are you the long-lost prince of some cat kingdom?" Noodle chops down in response.

You go to the hallway closet to get a duffel bag, where the pack stores their larger bags and luggage.

"Hey!" Hobi calls from upstairs, muffled through the roar of the shower. There isn't much other noise in the house. The birds outside aren't chirping, probably because you haven't been home enough to fill their birdfeeder.

Probably.

"Yeah!?" You call back up, upending the duffel bag and sending a bit of loose change, some quarters and pennies scattering onto the floor. you stoop down to pick up a few of them, tossing them back into the closet with a metallic clang (to be dealt with later.)

“Can you grab Tae's phone charger? It should be by her computer.”

"Got it!" Tae's library room is much the same as it was when you left it, her computer is closed. The walls are green, the window dusty. You find it easily, the cord long and white, tangling in your hands.

You're not sure why your hair raises on the back of your neck.

Noodle stops his chomping.

The push of cold air startles you- the change of pressure in the house like a door being opened- the front door. The windows in the library room are leaky. You're used to being in here and feeling it, used to feeling that same draft every time one of your pack mates comes home.

You freeze where you stand.

The metallic jingle of the doorknob is so much softer than usual. You could almost convince yourself that you don't hear it, that you've made it up.

And then you hear it- Noodle's low hiss.

Call it a habit or a trained behavior but you still make your footsteps quiet everywhere you go. A thing learned from your years with Geumjae when you needed to be quiet to be safe and needed to make yourself as unobtrusive as possible to avoid pain. A vestigial survival instinct.

It serves you well now because no one in the house hears as you slide from Tae’s library through the pantry area, you don’t call out Tae’s name again, or Hobi’s. You don’t know exactly why you don’t.

Your house is an old house and you know every inch of it. You know this house that Yoongi’s built for you from the top of the eves to the shutters, from the windows up top to the ground floor and dusty half-finished basement. You know every creaky floorboard and which steps are the ones you skip when someone’s sleeping upstairs because it always sounds so high-pitched and it wakes Jimin up, light sleeper that he is.

You hear the subtle creek of the floorboards now, the small slide of heavy boots across the wide floorboards. A creak. Someone is about to ascend the stairs, up to where you can still hear Hobi and Tae talking softly. The shower off, they're probably just getting dressed.

Softly, you hear the sound of a heavy boot hitting something metallic, one of the pennies you dropped earlier and missed.

Jin might still be in the other room, that's what you tell yourself. You're just being paranoid. stupid paranoia you almost want to laugh. you're just jumpy from the last few days- that's all. Funny of you, to make it up.

The danger is all in your head.

Only it's not,

Because the first thing you see when you peek around the corner is the pitch-dark barrel of an extended gun.

~-~

Please Like, Comment, and Reblog <3 Every little bit of encouragement helps <3

Come tell me what you liked about this chapter!

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~-~

Notes:

There are some parts in this chapter, some facts about yoongi's family that haven't been touched on since the very begining chapters or jimin's secret chapters and i repeated them just so that people get a bit of a refresher but some of it feels a little monotonous to write! i hope it's not too hard to get through.

in an ideal world i would have given myself an additional week to edit this chapter, it's not the most edited and because of that i feel like it got repetitive or arduous in places.

i'm also realizing that this is like, 9th longest bts fanfic in existence. look it up on ao3 if you don't believe me. i think giving people a refresher of the begining is fair. In terms of the harry potter series (it really is a shame that no one knows who wrote it) we're just into the 6th book in terms of word count if you need that for context.

on that same vein. moonbyuls brief rant that is implied to be transphobic and sorta is- is not a reflection of my views she's just...you know...the villain?

this chapter also literally went from 8k to 14k during editing what the fuck. i stayed up till 2 am to get this done two nights in a row. i have this little nagging voice in my head that says its stupid to care about something like this but i can't help it- i love this story so much. even if this isn't the best chapter.

when the m/c has her freak out in the room where she almost passes out- that is called adrenal fatigue and it's soemthing that i struggle with as someone with ptsd. you know the feeling when you go on a rollercoaster when all of your adrenaline unloads it's self all at once? if i go through that my body goes a little haywire like- dizziness, exhaustion, dysregulation, memory fog, all of it. i still like rollercoasters though so as long i like rest and drink alot of water it doesn't affect me too much.

it's really important that you notice that no one says moonbyuls name during the moment when they're talking about their secrets between namjoon, jin, hobi, yoongi, and the m/c. i'm not telling you why just PAY ATTENTION.

Every time i think about the proverb "The child who is not embraced by the village will burn it down to feel its warmth." i think of the m/c and how thats her storyline with the family like- she really was like "either you love me or i'll kill all of you" and i think thats cute <3

In terms of why the last don and Beta killed Yoongi's parents- i think it's because yoongi's mother found out that she was pregnant with another beta and the don and beta didn't want to deal with such a divided power. They already had yoongi under their thumb and another possible successor would have over complicated things. Yoongi would have had a little sister, i don't know if he'll ever know thats why his parents where killed- he was between the ages of 16 and 18 when they died.

although this chapter was the least edited in terms of the most recent chapters- i will also say that there are two moments in this chapter- where i 'fuck up' and write things a certian way but heres the thing- they're not fuck ups and they're actually hints so! lets see if anyone notices!!

i'm gonna be honest with you guys the part where it goes "it stays there" left me fucking winded i can't even think about it too hard or else i get misty eyed.

i am catheterizing a lot of emotions writing this i am sorry it took so long to write, there is a reason why this update took a month and thats cuz yeah- my grandmother is dying. She's got cancer and She's 91 so they're not treating it. death is gonna be a /theme/ for me over the next couple of chapters, don't be surprised if I go off on a tangent or if it takes me a second between updates.

i wish i could write the m/c just a little dumber you know?

i wrote this series with the intent to write about people in realistic relationships- showing the moments they make mistakes, the moments they react too much or not enough, the way that trauma affects us all and how we handle it and love. it feels very full circle to have this chapter come out like- this is what bily is about you know? even though they'res alot of dialouge in it.

oh~ shits about to go down~

Mini-Playlist

Dominic fike- acai bowl (kinda hobi and the m/c's song for this chapter, they're going through it)

Hozier- Eat Your Young (Bekon's Choral Version) (this is literally bily's unoffical theme song at this point)

JID, Kenny Mason - Dance now (the beginning when moonbyul setting the industrial park on fire)

Frank sinatra- thats life (the song i picture playing at the end when tae and jimin are talking out their issues).

[shemarmooresfedora]

Home

Series Summary: After being arrested, Spencer Reid desperately tries to get back home to his daughter, Camellia, who was placed into foster care in your home.

Pairing: Single!Dad!Spencer x Foster!Mom!Reader

Content/Warnings: swearing, mentions of mother abandonment

Word Count: 1.5k

Masterlist

Chapter 4

“You have a call from an inmate at the Washington D.C. Correctional Facility. To accept these charges, please press 1. To decline-,” you punched in the 1.

“Hey Spencer,” you greeted him.

“How did you know it was me?” he grinned.

“There’s not too many prisoners calling me, believe it or not,” you teased.

“I was calling to see if you could do me a big favor,” he spoke.

“What’s up?”

“My lawyer has told me that JJ told her my mom isn’t doing so well. She’s in a facility for her schizophrenia and Alzheimer’s,” he informed you.

“How can I help?” you asked.

“Could you bring Callie to go see her? I really think a familiar face could do a lot of good for her.”

“Of course, I’m 5 minutes away from her school. We can head right over,” you stated.

“Thank you so so much. Also, she doesn’t know I’m in prison so tell Callie just to tell her I’m away on a case. She’s in a fragile condition so it’s best to just say yes to everything she asks,” Spencer explained.

“Will do. If you are able to stay on the line for a few more minutes, you can say hi to Callie,” you told him.

“I was the last in line so I should be able to. I’ve got 6 minutes left,” Spencer said.

A bit of an awkward silence filled your car.

“So…are there any more injuries I need to attend to before work tomorrow?” you asked.

“No, I’ve got some help,” Spencer spoke vaguely.

“Okay, that’s good, I guess,” you pulled the car to a stop as Callie hopped in the passenger seat, “Your dad is on the phone, Callie.”

“Hi Dad!” she greeted.

“Hey sweetheart. How’s it going?” he asked.

“Really good. At soccer practice today, Coach told me I’m going to be a starter next game,” she beamed.

“That’s amazing! I wish I could be there to see it,” Spencer frowned slightly.

“Which is why I bought a camcorder so I can record the whole game for you to watch later as well as other things you may be sad to miss,” you said.

“Y/N, as much as I appreciate all you do for us, you need to stop spending so much money. I feel bad, I’ll reimburse you as soon as I’m out.”

“Spencer, I’m a doctor who rarely goes out and my closest friend is a cat. I have some money to spare,” you assured him.

“Why are you going left here?” Callie asked as you made a turn that wasn’t on your usual route home.

“Your dad wants you to visit your Grandma,” you replied.

“Callie, she just needs a familiar face so talk to her about your new school, soccer, anything but me going to jail,” Spencer explained, “Okay, I have 30 seconds left. Bye, love you, sweetheart!”

“Bye, Dad! Love you too!”

“Stay safe!” you added.

-

You walked up to the receptionist's desk with Callie, “Hi, she’s here to see Diana Reid.”

“Hi Callie, long time no see! No Dr. Reid today?” she asked.

“No, he’s away on a case,” you smiled politely.

“Callie, she’s in her room, dear,” the receptionist directed you down the hall.

Once you were outside the door, you stopped, “I’ll wait out here. Remember, your dad is on a long case. You are staying with the LaMontagne’s. And just agree with the stuff she says to not upset her,” you reminded Callie, “I’ll be right out here when you’re done.”

Before you had a chance to sit down in the waiting room, the door swung open.

“Grandma!” Callie exclaimed.

“My dear Callie,” she hugged her.

She looked up at you, “Is this who I think it is?”

You thought back to Spencer’s words.

She’s in a fragile condition so it’s best to just say yes to everything she asks.

“Um yes?” you answered.

“Callie’s mom! Oh my! I haven’t seen you in ages. I forgot what you even looked like, I remembered you differently. Forgive me, dear, could you remind me of your name?” she asked.

You looked to Callie for help but she looked just as confused as you and shrugged. She must not know either.

“Y/N,” you extended your hand for her to shake.

“What a beautiful name,” she smiled, “Come in! Come in!”

“So Callie, how has my favorite granddaughter been?” she asked.

“I’m your only grandchild, Grandma,” Callie playfully rolled her eyes, “I’ve been really well! Y/N-I mean Mom actually got me into a better school and I’ve been keeping busy with soccer and clubs and hanging out with friends.”

“That’s wonderful to hear! Y/N, how are you doing?” she turned to you.

Shit. What the fuck were you supposed to say?

“I’ve been well,” you simply stated with a nervous smile.

“Are you and Spencer dating again?”

I suppose you had to agree to this too.

“Yes, we are,” you nodded.

“Well, I hope you are back for good this time,” she stated.

That seemed kind of back-handed but maybe deserved, you didn’t know Callie’s mom’s backstory. You just continued to nervously smile through the rest of the visit as Callie caught up with her grandma.

-

“Well that was awkward,” you sighed as you got back into the car after the visit, “I need a milkshake.”

Callie was silent all the way to the drive-thru and as you ordered two large chocolate milkshakes and fries.

Finally, she spoke as you parked the car in the parking lot to eat, “I mean you’re more of a mom to me than my own mom. Dad never really told me much about her. She must have left when I was a baby because I don’t remember her at all.”

“I’m sure your dad has his reasons for not telling you but you must know that her leaving wasn’t your fault at all,” you told her.

“Who would leave a baby and my dad?” she teared up.

“I don’t know, honey,” you pulled her in for a hug, “It was her loss though whoever she is because she didn’t get to see what an amazing girl you have become.”

-

“Reid, visitor,” the guard called out.

Please let it be Callie and or Y/N, Spencer prayed.

He needed a ray of sunshine in his otherwise completely dark week. He didn’t want it to be the team or his lawyer asking if he remembered anything else because he didn’t. He couldn’t.

He slumped out of bed and let the guard cuff him on the way to the visitor room. His pace quickened when he saw you waiting there for him, just as beautiful as always.

You smiled at first when you saw him but it morphed into a frown when you saw fresh bruises forming.

“Spencer, I thought you said you had help,” you whispered.

“Apparently not all of the time,” he mumbled.

You bit your bottom lip worriedly, “Well, I brought my med kit.”

You got up and started to inspect his face.

“How did the visit with my mom go?” he asked.

“Good, I guess,” you replied.

“You guess?”

“She saw me before I went to the waiting room. I said yes to everything she said but that included her thinking that I was Callie’s mom and that we were dating,” you grimaced.

Spencer sighed, “Oh god.”

“I’m sorry! I didn’t know what to do,” you apologized.

“No, no, it’s not your fault. You were just doing what was told. Did Callie have questions?”

You nodded.

Spencer ran his hands through his hair, “I knew this day would come but I’m still not prepared. I just avoid thinking about it at all costs.”

“Do you want to talk to me about it and maybe I can help you put the right words together,” you offered.

“Um okay, her name was Austin. I met her on a case. She was a bartender. We were long distance for a bit. She got pregnant early on in the relationship. We decided to try to make it work. She moved in with me in D.C. and had Callie. When Callie was about 4 months old, she got overwhelmed and just left…just like that. I went to the park with Callie and came back to find all of her things gone and a note that just said ‘sorry’. I haven’t heard from her since. We were trying to force a happy ending that wasn’t there,” Spencer finished.

“Well lucky for Callie, she has one amazing dad and that is more than enough,” you reassured him.

“And a pretty kick ass foster mom,” Spencer smiled.

“I try my best,” you grinned.

A/N: i have a smut one-shot (not related to this series) coming out tomorrow and i’m very excited about it

main taglist (just ask to be added/removed): @samuel-de-champagne-problems @g0lden-cth @spencerreid9 @averyhotchner @coldlilheart @k-k0129 @ickleronniekinsemotionalrange @harrystylesandthegoobs @cmily @jswessie187 @rem-ariiana-deactivated20210709 @hoodpankow @mochionly @spencerreid-187 @babymetaldoll @fics4arainyday @ssavanessa22 @all-tings-diego @idonotexiste @beepbooptoop @tvandfanfic @mggsprettygirl @big-galaxy-chaos @navs-bhat @spencerreidsmommy @this-is-doctor-and-its-calm

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[spencers-dria]

Can you maybe write something where the reader meets spencer in prison and when they get out, they meet up and they have really rough and kinky sex like you can literally go as dirty and kinky as you want

Four Feet Apart

🎉150 follower celebration! Day 6

Spencer x fem reader

Content/Trigger Warnings: 18+ Smut, oral female receiving, anal play, blindfold/sensory play, and handcuff/restraint use, protected penetrative sex, mentions of murder, prison

The beginning is a little angst, little fluff, plenty of smut!

“Alright inmates, listen up! There’s been some budget cuts. For the time being, the old west wing building will be taken by overflow from the women’s prison.”

The guard’s voice was overtaken by wolf whistles and hollers.

“That’s enough! Now you will not share a building with them. You will not see them during meals. However the courtyards do share a fence. If you are caught harassing them in any way, you will be punished accordingly!”

The announcement had caught the attention of just about every inmate, except one. Spencer Reid had bigger problems to worry about than women. He didn’t get them outside of prison, so why should he worry about them on the inside. He needed to worry about how to stay safe, stay alive until his name was cleared. That is, until he met you.

_______________________________________

I sat on the bleachers, popping some bubble gum as I searched for some worthwhile eye candy. The sun was a bit hot so I shrugged my button down off my shoulders, opting to tie it around my waist, leaving me in a white tank. This of course leads to many wondering eyes and a few whistles from the men’s side of the fence. I’m not even sure what i’m looking for, but none of the men giving me the time of day have it. I finally notice a slender man sitting on the men’s bleachers, just a few feet away from the fence on his side. I scoot up , slipping my fingers through the women’s chain-link side. Of course I could never touch any of them, with each side having about four feet between their respective fences. But there were no rules against looking or talking even.

“Hey. Think too hard and you’re gonna mess up that pretty face of yours.”

He looks up a bit startled, but his posture changes once his gaze lands on me. He almost looks shy, which seems in direct contrast to his rugged look. But once I look in his eyes, I see depth and warmth and kindness that belongs far away from this place, and it hurts me for a moment, to think of what will happen to him here.

“I don’t bite. The name is Y/L/N. Got in for killing my ex husband. How about you?”

He blinked, speechless at first.

“Doc- I’m uh, Spencer Reid. They think I killed someone too…”

“Well, didn’t you?”

He shook his head. Based on the look in his eyes, I want to believe him I really do.

“Did you know that incarceration of women has been growing at twice the rate of men’s incarceration?”

“Now how in the world would you know that?”

He simply shrugged.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to. Just looked like you could use some company is all.”

He looked like he wanted to respond, he really did. But before he got the chance, the women were called back inside.

I give a quick salute. “Nice meetin ya Spencer Reid. See ya when I see ya.”

___________________________________________

The next time I saw him he looked different. Scared, fragile, and a bit bloodied up.

“Hey- what uh- I mean, are you okay?”

He refused to look up or give much of an answer. But he was sitting in the same spot, close enough for us to have another conversation so I have to believe he wanted to talk again.

“I’m guessing you’re relatively new. It happened to me too ya know. Especially when I wouldn’t just go along with everything they asked.”

That drew his attention, and I could see tears in his eyes.

“You can’t let them see they get to you, that you’re scared. I learned that long before I got here though. That’s why I killed him ya know- he hurt me and I couldn’t just take it anymore. Police wouldn’t listen. I just wanted it to stop.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“I shrugged it off. I’m paying my time but I’m safer in here than I ever felt with him.”

“Can you keep a secret?”

Now he has my attention. I nod, trying not to seem too excited to be sharing schoolyard secrets with the handsome stranger.

“I uh, was in the FBI. I was framed by a, well you can almost call her an arch nemesis of sorts.” He laughed to himself. It was a warm sort of laugh that filled me with butterflies. “I was just trying to get medicine for my mom. She has Alzheimer’s and schizophrenia. She was getting worse and I-“ his words are quickly cut off by the sounds of sniffles.

“Why are you telling me this?” I don’t mean it to be rude, but I had to know.

“I guess you could say I’m good at reading people and- you’re not a bad person. I trust you.”

In that moment, our eyes met again, but something new was there. Desire? Lust? Caring? Who knows. But that was the start of something. Of daily meetings, and quiet longing.

Day after day we would sit by our fences, sharing stories of our lives before prison. I learned that he was kind, hard-working, and actually quite funny. Spencer Reid was the best company I’d had in years, and not just within the prison walls.

He also told me about the rough time of it he was having on his own side. I gave him pointers where I could. How to get in with the right people, how to avoid the wrong ones, and how to get himself safe when necessary.

At one point, the politics on his side did endanger his life, and that’s when we came up with the plan together. A plan that would help take down the very man targeting him while getting Spencer somewhere safe for now. This meant I wouldn’t see him while he was in solitary, but we both knew it was necessary.

We never spoke about exactly what it was we wanted but- it was there. We devoured one another with our eyes. Biting and licking lips, drawn out breaths, and lingering gazes. We knew.

I watched him change overtime. His hair and beard grew yes, but so did this darkness in his eyes. The soft, Bambi-eyed boy was seemingly gone, replaced by a man who needed to hurt someone, anyone. And oh was I ready to let him hurt me.

I waited by the fence each day for his return, but it never came. I finally decided to ask around until I heard something that thrilled me but also left a huge gaping hole in me.

“He left.”

I couldn’t be happier for him. Had they cleared his name? From the sound of it, federal agents, friends of his had come to retrieve him. I could only hope that he was safe and happy.

Then one day I received a letter.

Dear Y/N,

I miss you. Just you. You made my time there worthwhile, worth missing. There’s so much more I wanted to say to you, and a letter just won’t do it justice. I have a feeling you’ll be out on parole sooner than you think. Come find me when you can. I’ll be in D.C..

Counting the days,

Spencer

____________________________________________

Parole? I had at least another year before that could even be a consideration. But I started counting too, which didn’t last long. Imagine my surprise when I got out on parole only two weeks after receiving the letter.

Did he- no he couldn’t, could he? Spencer had been gone for months. Clearly he had cleared his name, thank goodness. I knew I needed to see him as soon as possible.

I couldn’t leave the state, but luckily I didn’t need to. With what little I had, I made my way to D.C.. I figured I’d start out at the return address on the envelope, the one I clung to like my life depended on it.

With a bag slung over my shoulder, I raised my hand with the letter to hesitantly knock on the door, completely unsure of what to expect on the other side.

My mouth fell open at the sight before me. Spencer Reid in a cardigan, a tie? I had never seen him outside the prison. He looked so put together. And all I could think about was how much I wanted to tear him apart. I did my best to suppress my lust in hopes of a civil and normal greeting.

I don’t know what I expected. Tears, hugs maybe? We stood there staring at each other for who knows how long before I finally spoke. I’d had a well rehearsed speech in my head. One I’d had two whole weeks to work on since he sent the letter. But that all went out the window the second I saw his face again.

“Hi.”

“Hey.”

Who was I kidding? We could see it in eachother’s eyes, the same desire from before, but stronger somehow. Maybe because it was quite literally within reach. Months of daydreaming about what it would feel like to touch him, kiss him, get absolutely railed by him.

The man I had met initially was so gentle, timid. I watched him change in that prison. I had initially imagined ruining him, breaking him for my own pleasure. By the time he left I wanted something completely different. I wanted him to do the breaking. I wanted him to use me for his own personal pleasure. And he knew it.

He grabbed my face to pull me in for an all consuming kiss that quite literally took my breath away. I had to pull back, gasping for air before I could get any words out.

“Missed you too.” I smiled.

“Can we take this to my bedroom?” The words came out rushed, as though he might die if he couldn’t have me in that very moment.

I give an enthusiastic nod. A small squeal and uncharacteristic giggle leaves my lips as he scoops me up in his arms, whisking me away to his bedroom.

“I’ve been waiting so long for this,” he pants, frantically removing his clothes. “Can you get undressed and lay down on your stomach for me?”

I follow his orders without question. He leans down by my ear and asks one question. “Safe word?”

“Cherry blossom.”

“Anything off limits?”

I don’t even have to think. “No, I trust you.”

Next thing I know I feel soft silk over my eyes as he ties a blindfold in place. This allows me to focus on the sounds of whatever else he is preparing. I hear a distinctly familiar jingle of metal, which is confirmed as it touches the skin of my wrists. Handcuffs. I wiggle my hips in delight, which earns me a playful spank.

“Like what you see?”

“I definitely can’t complain.” I can almost hear his smirk.

His fingers dig into my hips before pulling them up in the air. I feel cold air hit my core immediately.

“Fucking beautiful.”

Without any warning I feel a finger coated in cool lubricant coating my other opening.

“Try and relax for me, beautiful.” His fingers run through some of my hair, dragging across the skin of my back and I feel my muscles immediately follow his command. I attempt to mentally and physically prepare for whatever could be coming next.

I feel him work in what feels to be a decent sized anal plug. I’ve tried them before but only by myself. I’m already enjoying the added stimulation. My hips jolt when he suddenly brings his head down to lick up through my slit and I can’t help but yell.

“Fuck!”

“Mmm you like that, dirty girl? You’re quite literally dripping for me.”

He says it so calmly, I can hardly wrap my head around how smooth he’s being.

“Yes sir, please!” I beg.

“Please what, hmmm? What do you need?”

“Need you to eat my pussy please sir!”

Damn I sound absolutely pathetic. To think I ever considered myself a feminist. So much for my leg up on domineering men. Here I am willingly let one take me, have me anyway he wants. And that’s just the way I want it too. For Spencer Reid, I would be anything he needed.

“Good girl.” The two words have me writhing in pleasure with the combined sensation of his tongue back on the place I need it most. He sucks and laps at me like I'm his favorite dessert . He reads my body like a book, every movement and moan. He knows just what I need, when to let up, when to push harder. It’s unfair just how talented his mouth is.

And then, I’m coming undone on that beautiful mouth of his. Too bad I can’t see it. But oh it’s all I can imagine as waves of pleasure wreck my body and he’s running his fingers down my back, squeezing my ass as he gets in his final victory licks.

There’s a distinct sound of a condom wrapper, and I appreciate the consideration. I feel him sit on the bed next to me, against the headboard perhaps?

“Come sit on my lap.” His voice is dark and commanding, and my body is already responding with a fresh dose of arousal.

“But I can’t see sir.”

“No excuses. Come sit on my lap or you won’t get to come again.”

Not only can I not see, but my hands are still handcuffed behind my back. Not to mention my knees are weak from my most recent orgasm. This oughta be interesting. I try to scoot on my knees towards where I had heard his voice, only to lose my balance once I bump into his legs. I fall face first into his lap. Not the worst position to be in. I hear a soft, dark chuckle above me.

“Poor pathetic thing, are you already too weak? Can you handle another one?”

I swear, I never knew I was into degradation and humiliation. I don’t even know if I truly am, it's just something about him, about Spencer, that turns me on with everything he does.

“Yes sir, please! Please I can handle it! Let me try!”

I feel his fingers grasp my jaw, pulling my face up till I’m sitting on my knees again. I can feel his breath on my face and I wish I could just lean in and feel his lips on mine. My wish is granted for just a second. I feel his plush lips brush against mine, but they’re gone just as quick.

“Pretty thing. Let me help you, hmm.”

His long fingers wrap around my hips and guide me till I’m sitting in his lap, one leg on either side.

“Do you think you can ride me without your hands for balance?

“Yes sir!” I nod with an embarrassing eagerness.

“Show me, baby.”

I raise up and with his guidance again, lower myself until he’s making sure my other hole is filled as well.

Each bounce against his lap is adding pressure against the plug, combined with the bump of his cock against my cervix. With no sight, I’m so in tune with every sensation, especially the way his fingers feel roaming every inch of my body. He’s pinch my nipples, grabbing my ass, tugging at my hair. I may have been the one begging but he was clearly just as desperate.

When he decided he needs more, Spencer grabs my hips and starts thrusting up into me at a completely

ridiculous pace.

“You look so pretty bouncing on my cock. See for yourself, little girl.”

Before I have time to realize what he means, his beautiful fingers are ripping the silk away from my eyes, only to be met with absolutely heavenly eyes. They’re golden, warm, filled with lust but also something kinder. They devour my body like I’m his goddess. I absolutely love watching him enjoy the view. He licks his lips hungrily as he watches my breasts bounce and the way he looks sliding in and out of me.

Spencer pulls me in so he can leave a trail of kisses along my shoulders and neck. I love the way my face feels buried in his soft curls, he smells of lavender shampoo and it’s intoxicating. When he pulls back he’s got a knowing smirk on his face.

“What?”

In seemingly one move, I’m off his lap, on my back, with my hands pinned over my head.

“But the hand cuffs? How did you-“

Instead of answering he silenced me with an all consuming kiss. We’re biting, sucking, moaning, on one another like animals in heat. I can’t help but feel sorry for his poor neighbors.

He keeps my hands pinned above my head while realigning himself ready to pick back up where he left off. Before I can even register what’s happening he’s pounding into me like it’s his fucking job.

“You feel that? You feel how perfectly I fill you up? So pretty with my cock in you. Fuck- you take it so well!”

Words are gone from my mind. I’m left with moans, tears, and one name. Spencer.

“Spencer!”

He lets go of my arms and they instinctively wrap around his neck as I use my legs around his hips bringing him close.

“I’ve got you pretty girl. I’m here. Be a good little thing and come for me. Come on.”

I’m wrecked, shaking and moaning, unsure if I’ll ever be able to stop. He’s right there with me, filling me up in the best way. The pleasure is intensified by the extra pressure from the plug. I cling to him for dear life as I ride off my high, enjoying the way he looks above me. He’s angelic with the light sheen of sweat causing his skin to glisten in the low lighting, the natural sparkle of his eyes, the way his curls fall in his face, the pretty pink lips softly parted as he pants.

He’s dominant but also so soft and kind with me. It's clear tonight he cared about my pleasure just as much as his own. Maybe I don’t ever have to let him go. Maybe we can just stay here, twisted up in one another, blissfully unaware of all our troubles and the world around us.

I’m embarrassed at how much I whine as he gets off of me and slips away into the bathroom. I don’t know why I was surprised when he returns with a warm washcloth and lotion. He’s cleaning me up, tending to my wrists and any other spots sore from friction, and removing the plug. All the while he’s littering my skin with gentle kisses, all along my back and shoulders, my hips, my chest, my face. I’ve never been so pampered.

“Are you okay?” His voice is sweet and smooth like honey, leaving me tingling in the wake of its sweetness.

“Never better.” I leave kisses across his knuckles and he gives me that look again, like I’m the most beautiful thing he’s ever laid eyes on.

After some convincing, I get up to use the bathroom, returning to a very sweet looking boy waiting for me under the covers, looking up with puppy dog eyes. I see the man I first met in the courtyard months ago. The one that stole my heart. I slip into the spot next to him, and we tangle back together, skin against skin. It’s so warm, soft, inviting and I think I’ll stay forever.

[slippinmickeys]

Head Canon AU Mulder and Scully as Archeologist and Scientist at a dig in ruins in the Amazon.

Anon! Thank you so much. I saw this this morning and got that rare inspiration wherein I launched myself at this, and kind of love what I came up with. I hope you enjoy it! (It is unbeta-ed)

1. The University was being cheap. That was the first thing. Piggybacking off the hard work he’d put in: years worth of toil to arrange this meticulously set-up dig. If they wanted to send a team to study advanced medical uses of the vast biome of the Amazon rainforest, they’d do far better sending this approaching medical team into the interior. His team -- his dig -- was practically on the outskirts. The forest around them had already been explored and researched, catalogued and referenced. The real biological finds -- the cures for Alzheimer’s, cancer -- would be found in the unknown, in those places even the aboriginal people hadn’t stepped. The University was being cheap, plunking in a science team on a completely separate mission with his own, just to save some cash. That was the bottom line.

If it hadn’t been so oppressively hot so early in the morning, he might not have been quite so irritated. As it was, he stood on the bank of the river and ran an already sweat-soaked handkerchief over the back of his neck, willing the putting little outboard Evinrude to chug a little more quickly upstream. It was hot and stiflingly humid, and he’d wanted to be at the dig two hours ago, before the heat of the day set in. Too late, that.

The incoming medical team -- if you could call it a team -- seemed to consist of only one person. A short-statured wisp of a woman (if the high, top-knotted messy red bun was any indication of sex) who sat low in the backseat of the approaching riverboat, surrounded by expensive-looking boxes filled with technology that probably wouldn’t operate well in the humidity. He blew an irritated raspberry and shuffled his feet in the muddy squelch of the riverbank.

The stout block of the driver hefted a rope at Mulder as they approached, which Mulder caught easily and wrapped around a nearby tree.

“Tudo vai bem?” Mulder inquired as the man cut the engine and grunted an affirmative.

The passenger stood, keeping a hand on the side of the little tin vessel, its stern fishtailing out into the current. Mulder stepped up and held out a hand, which she grasped gratefully. He pulled and she took a confident leap, landing lightly on the ground next to him.

“Dr. Mulder, I presume?” she said on a light breath, looking up at him with a small smile, having to crane her neck to do so. She had astonishingly blue eyes, a color he’d only seen once, in an ice-cave in the far north. He shook his head after a moment and realized that he was still holding her hand. He dropped it, nodding.

“I thank God, doctor, I have been permitted to see you,” she finished, quoting the journals of Henry Morton Stanley.

Mulder outright laughed. He was smitten immediately.

2. “Be careful with that!” she’d barked, as Langly handed out her equipment to a couple of waiting locals that had been working on the project for three years.

Mulder held up a calming hand.

“You’re working with archeologists, Dr. Scully,” he said softly, “my team has the gentlest hands in the Southern Hemisphere.”

She quirked one side of a grin at him even as she threw a worried look over her shoulder at her equipment.

“Come on,” he said, giving her sleeve a gentle tug, “let me show you around.”

He showed her the latrine first, watching her face carefully for a reaction, but she just nodded nonchalantly and kept walking. Then the mess, and the tent where she’d be working when she wasn’t in the field.

“And this,” he said, taking her to an empty patch of jungle, “is where your bunk will be. My apologies that it’s not set up. There’s no female barracks and we were told you wouldn’t be here until next week. The radio communique we got this morning informing us of your arrival came as something of a surprise.”

“I’m eager to get started,” was all she said in response.

Mulder walked on and she followed him.

“I’m afraid the only empty cot is in my tent,” he said sheepishly. “Dr. Byers headed home for a funeral last month and we’re not expecting him back until March. I’ll be sure yours is set up right away, but takes some time as we have to build a platform first. Have you done jungle field work before?”

“I flew here from Borneo,” she said. “It’s not a problem.” With that, she flipped back the tent’s outer curtain and ducked inside like she owned the place.

She never did move out.

3. Scully’s father had been diagnosed with stage four pancreatic cancer and hadn’t lived long enough to see her graduate from medical school. She would not let it happen to anyone else if she could help it, she’d said. She worked like a woman possessed.

Against all advice, she would march into the jungle alone and be gone for days at a time. When her grad students finally arrived, they couldn’t keep up with her, and she’d frequently leave them at base camp to work on the equipment (which, Mulder was not really that pleased to report, did have a tendency to malfunction in the miasmic humidity and heat of the Amazon basin. It wasn’t, he admitted, that easy always being right). Occasionally she could be talked into taking one of the local hires with her, but she felt bad taking workers that Mulder’s project funding paid for, and anyway, they weren’t trained in her science, she would tell him.

“I wish you wouldn’t go out on your own,” he murmured into the cup of her ear one night, a trickle of sweat running from her hairline and onto the tip of his nose.

She turned on the cot, a feat, considering its fairly narrow dimensions, and pressed her forehead against his, the flimsy pillow damp beneath them both.

“I’m careful,” she whispered, and threw a leg over him, her dewy mons pressing into the naked flesh of his thigh.

“It’s not safe-” he began to protest, but she’d captured his lips with her own and he fell headlong into the lush heat of her -- whatever concern that had been on the tip of his tongue lost to her rapacious mouth as it trailed a slick path down his torso and latched, vitae and greedy, around the rigid length of him. It was bliss. She was bliss. If he had ever thought he knew love, he was wrong.

4. The whole camp knew they were together. Her tent had become a kind of catchall storage area, and it’s not like nylon canvas could contain the breathy moans of their pleasure. That and she’d just plunk down and sit on his lap whenever the only camp chair available around the mess tent was the one with the tricky leg.

Anyway, what happened in the field stayed in the field, unless it was up for peer review.

“Are you guys going to get married or something?” Mulder’s newest grad student asked one night when the air had actually cooled enough to take the edge off of everybody’s temper. Beer had arrived with their latest resupply and Frohike had syphoned off some LN2 to cool it and it was frosty and rich and maybe the best thing Mulder had ever tasted aside from Scully’s skin.

Scully, from atop his lap, merely shrugged and took a leisurely sip of brew. Mulder pictured it sliding down her throat, the cold blooming into her belly and he dry swallowed, then leaned forward and kissed her shoulder.

“God, don’t be such a newb,” drawled Langly, pressing his glasses into his face compulsively.

Mulder knew what Langly meant. They’d all seen their share of field romances that fizzled the second your boots stepped back onto University soil, though something about Scully felt different; the way their minds worked together, the way she felt in his arms.

“I’m married to the job, bro,” Scully said, but reached back and squeezed the skin just above Mulder’s hip. He kissed her shoulder again.

“D’you tell her about the helo data?” Frohike asked, looking at Mulder from his own camp chair. The little man sat low and back in it with his shoulders hunched up, and Mulder thought he looked a bit like a toad, or an ogre guarding a burial mound.

They’d gotten the funding from a billionaire alumni to fly a helicopter over the whole of the basin in this sector of the Amazon, using light detection radar. Basically, it shot out billions of lasers as it flew overhead that were able to penetrate the rainforest’s canopy and map the landscape below.

“You had a chance to analyze it?” Scully asked, craning her head to look at him squarely.

He nodded, smiling. He’d been saving this to tell her especially.

“And you were able to combine it with the satellite data?” she asked, excited.

He nodded again. “Sóis,” he said, smiling. The settlements they’d found took their name from the Portuguese word for ‘suns.’ They were round villages, all with remarkably similar layouts, with elongated mounds circling a central plaza. When seen from above, they looked like the rays of the sun. “Pre-Columbian.”

She jumped off his lap, spilling half her beer in the process. It dripped down the bare skin of her knee, unnoticed.

“Are you kidding?!” her excitement made him giddy.

“It gets better,” he said, and she cocked her head, waiting for him to elaborate. “They’re laid out like the cosmos,” he said, giving her a full-watt smile as he rose out of the chair to stand in front of her. “We’re already plotted three different villages, all laid out in the exact design of southern constellations.” Her mouth dropped open. “Canis Major, Hydra, and Crux Australis.”

She launched herself into his arms, practically squealing -- something he’d never heard her do -- and he held her, looking around at the smiling faces of the other scientists in the mess. The find would make his career, and her excitement for him touched him profoundly.

5. Martim, one of their local hires, came careening into camp, breathing so hard he had to put his hands on his knees to catch his breath. His face was a mask of anxiety and fear. Mulder felt dread bloom in his gut, and he dropped what he was doing -- actually dropped the computer tablet he was holding to the wet forest floor -- and ran over to the man, grasping him firmly by the shoulder.

“Martim?” he said, “O que aconteceu?”

“Dr. Scully,” the man heaved, his accent thick. He could still scarcely breathe.

“Where is she?” Mulder didn’t have the emotional wherewithal to translate from English. “What happened?”

“Hurt,” the man wheezed, “she’s hurt.”

It took nearly thirty minutes to assemble a rescue party, and they had to let Martim rest for a bit and give him food and water before he could take them back out into the jungle where he’d left Scully. Mulder was beside himself by the time they finally started off, impatient as a recalcitrant child, sick to his stomach with worry.

It took three hours to hack into the area where she’d been doing her search, and a further twenty minutes of calling her name before they heard her weak call back.

Mulder raced ahead without thought to obstacle or danger, and skidded to a halt when he was practically on top of her. She was leaning back against the base of a large tree, holding onto her right ankle, which she had elevated on her left knee. There was a length of rope beside her and a climbing harness around her butt and waist.

“Scully,” he panted, falling to his knees beside her.

She smiled at him weakly, her face pale and sweaty.

“I think it’s broken,” she hissed, pointing at her ankle.

“What happened?” Mulder asked, as the rest of the rescue party trundled in behind him, pulling off backpacks and other equipment. Someone handed Scully a bottle of water.

“I saw a fungus I’d never seen before growing on the bark midway up this tree,” she said after guzzling half a bottle of Arrowhead. “The carabiner failed on my descent.”

“Oh, Scully,” Mulder said, reaching out to tuck a damp lock of titian hair behind her ear.

“I got the sample, though,” she said with a tired, but victorious glint in her eye.

They weren’t back into camp until well after nightfall.

Mulder picked her up from the field stretcher and carried her into their tent, depositing her gently onto her cot. Langly came in behind him and handed him two fresh cold packs before ducking back out without a word. Mulder popped them to activate the chemicals and pressed them gingerly on either side of Scully’s ankle.

“I’m going to call for a medical evac,” he said quietly.

“Don’t you dare,” she said, grabbing at his hand and squeezing it. “Mulder, don’t you fucking dare.”

“Scully, we’ve got to follow protocol here,” he said, trying not to sound put out.

“Do not take me out of the field, Mulder. Promise me.”

“Scully-”

“Promise me!”

“How will you even work?” he said a little desperately.

“It doesn’t need setting or surgery,” she said, gesturing to her injured limb.

“How do you know that without an X-ray?”

“I’m a medical doctor,” she said, by way of explanation, “I can secure it with supplies we have on hand. I can work from my cot for a few days and make crutches out of tree limbs. Please, Mulder,” she said, and he could feel himself relenting, even if it would get him in trouble. “Please.”

He sighed, and she smiled up at him weakly, though he didn’t say a thing.

“Thank you,” and closed her eyes, relaxing into her pillow, “thank you.”

Six weeks later the canvas of their tent ripped back and the greenish glow of leaf-filtered sunlight shone into the murky, damp depths. Mulder rose from where he was resting on his cot and looked to the entrance. Scully stood there, armpit resting on her improvised crutch, her hair a rich autumn frizz around her head. Her eyes were wide and shining, and there was something incandescent about her in that moment -- an energy pulsing from her that lit his soul from within.

“Scully-” he started, but she held up a hand to silence him. Her hands were shaking.

“I found it,” she said, her voice breathy with the triumph of discovery, “Mulder, I found it.”

[cantfightmoonlight]

"Ben," She whispered as she moved to sit up. Wrapping her legs around his waist, she shifted from where she had been laying him against him, so that she now sat in his lap. Her own fingers lacing their way around his neck as she met his gaze with a piercing one of her own. "Who says I can't? " She pressed her lips together defiantly. She knew in part he was right, but she also didn't want to admit it. "I don't know if you could stop me?" She admitted, biting down on her bottom lip as she went on to explain, "Look, I know I can be a lot of things. Dramatic, stubborn and self center may be some of them and I can promise you that I would never put myself in a risky situation if... if it wasn't for you. I do value my life even if my track record might allude to otherwise, but, if it came down between you and I, I'd pick you. Every time. I know it's not the promise you might want, but-" But, she couldn't be selfish when it came to him. She loved him too much.

"I prefer the term hysterically brilliant and because! Because they'll be, I don't know, age appropriate and whose to say you'll even remember me at that age? You could get alzheimers or demetia for all we kno-" She started to reason, only for her to cut her own self off. Her bottom lip drawing out into a small pout at the thought of being forgotten again. Her gaze falling as she played with the buttons of his shirt. Maybe she'd just off herself when he got that old. Stumble out of town and find some hunter who would take her out to save her from having to go through that...

"You don't?" She asked. Her eyes widening as she lifted her head once more. "Okay, but come fifty years we're going to have to become shut ins, because if not, we're going to end up getting some really weird looks... actually while we're at it, we should just get rid of all mirrors all together," She mumbled to herself, the gears already turning as she tried to edit her life plan in her head. "Wait, what?" Her mouth fell slightly a gap as she blinked over at him, unsure if she had heard him right. "You-" Her bottom lip began to quiver. "You quoted Emma-" Bri couldn't think of the last time she had ever been at a complete loss for words and, yet, here she was blinking back the tears of delight brimming around her eyes as her gaze filled with far more endearment than she could possible begin to express. "I-" She gulped as she watched him bring the back of her hand up to his lips. "I-" Slipping her wrist out of his, she cupped his face in her hands and cut him off with one fiercely passionate kiss followed by another and then another. "I love you," She told him breathlessly, as she threw her arms around him, trailing a line of kisses across his lower jaw before taking them down his neck. "Oh my god, I love you. I love you so much I've been trying not to let it slip out these past few weeks because it felt like it might be too soon and, if you laugh at me for saying this, I will move to Timbuktu, but-" Her cheeks flushed the most rosy shade of red, knowing that she would hardly do the quote any justice, as she whispered softly against his inner ear, "You have bewitched me, body and soul and I love... I love... love you. Though," She snuck a peek back up at him as she told him, "Maybe if we do ever follow after each other again, can we maybe both promise to do so without volunteering to get a limb chopped off? Like anything else but that?" She asked, giving him his best pleading puppy dog pout. "I want to get out of the dark with you in tact."

At first, Ben wanted to argue, to say that she couldn't promise such a thing, that it was impossible to control life and death in such a way, but then she kept going, and a nearly incredulous smile broke out on his face. "Bri," he breathed, brushing his hand over her cheek, her jaw. "Bri, you can't-- You can't promise that. I mean, it's just-- If anyone could, I suppose it would be you. I'd never let you volunteer yourself for me. Never. I just wouldn't." He shook his head, laughing breathlessly. "You're ridiculous, you know that? Why on earth would I look for anyone else at the retirement home when I know I'd still just be head over heels for you?" he asked softly. He'd be a fool to leave it there, and Benjamin anak Bandi was many things, but he tried so often not to be a fool. Whether or not he succeeded was regularly up for debate. "I have no intention of moving on, not now, not in fifty years. I'm right here, too, and I'm not going anywhere. I love you. I love you. I'm in love with you. Ardently, hopefully, completely in love with you." He swallowed and grinned lopsidedly as he quoted, "If I loved you any less, perhaps I could talk about it more." He brought one of her hands up to his lips, kissing the back of it before his fingers moved to her wrist and gently traced over her pulse. "I'm in it for the long haul," he echoed her. It wouldn't be immediately, but he planned to join her as a vampire one day. They had only been dating a couple of months, but some things felt clandestine. This was one of those things. "I'm not going anywhere. I'd have followed you into the dark. I'd have found you in the quiet. I had no intention of leaving that place until I held you in my arms again."