#miracle drug. shame this is probably the last time I’ll get to do it for an extremely long time if ever

[isdalinarhot]

violet wine has no right being as sexy as it is. SANDALWOOD AROMA? SANDALWOOD? YPURE TELLING ME IT SMELLS LIKE THE SEXIEST DRUG **AND** THE SEXIEST MEN’S DEODORANT SMELL???????⁇ AND ITLL GET YOU WASTED????⁇ did Sanderson know he was creating the most fuckable beverage known to man

[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

All Men Have Limits - X

Character: Dick Grayson x Reader x Bruce Wayne

Summary: A certain bat believes that Y/N is in way over her head, that she’s too naive to act in her best interest. So, whether she wants it or not, the vigilante family is going to help and protect her before she gets herself killed.

Word Count: 4,100+

Previously on…

The next three days were one of the darkest periods of Dick Grayson’s life. 

He was thrown back into the past to the moments after his parents were murdered. This felt the same but somehow worse. Because he was convinced he had the power to stop it, to keep Y/N safe.

Why did everyone he love have to die?

Was he cursed?

Was he responsible for their deaths?

He hadn’t even been able to tell Y/N how he really felt. He’d been holding back all this time, terrified that his truth would just push her away and make her decide to close off from him.

Now Dick wished he could go back in time and confess everything to her. If she had pushed him away, he would found his way back to her somehow. He sees that now – now that it’s too late.

He looked at Y/N sleeping peacefully in her bed at the manor.

Is it a miracle if conjuring was used to fight back at fate?

Dick doesn’t even remember what he said when he contacted Zatanna. He must’ve sounded hysterical and utterly desperate. His vision had been blurred from the tears he couldn’t control. 

He already blacked the whole thing out.

Zatanna told them that Y/N would sleep for a few days. Even if her magic saved her life and Y/N wouldn’t even have a scar to prove she had died, her body was still exhausted from the trauma of it all.

But even with Zatanna’s reassurance, Dick hadn’t left Y/N’s side, absolutely terrified that she was still in danger, that she could still leave them forever.

When Y/N started to shift, Dick sat up straighter in the chair that he’d pulled close to her bed.

Y/N winced before her eyes fluttered open.

Dick didn’t want to overwhelm her, so he just waited for her to fully wake up.

Y/N seemed confused when she realized that she was back in her room at the manor.

Then her gaze moved to Dick.

“Bruce, is he–”

“He’s fine,” Dick cut her off before she could get herself into a panic.

Her entire body relaxed and she let out the breath she was holding in without realizing it.

“He has a concussion and he’s a little beat up. But he’s had worse,” Dick elaborated.

She raised a brow. “You tend to say that a lot.”

Dick shrugged.

But it was true: Bruce had been in much worse condition.

“You saved his life, Y/N.”

She seemed uncomfortable hearing that and didn’t meet his gaze.

“I did what anyone would’ve done,” Y/N mumbled.

“Not everyone would be that brave.”

A silence settled between them for a few moments.

“How am I here?” Y/N finally asked Dick quietly.

But they both knew she was really asking, ‘How am I alive?’

“I’m not sure you really want to know all the details…” Dick had been dreading this conversation.

“I’m assuming you called in another favor with your magic friend,” Y/N thought aloud.

“Zatanna,” Dick confirmed. “And, yes. Something like that.”

Y/N gave him a look that told him she wasn’t going to let it go so easily.

“She used a spell that reversed your injuries. She…” Dick had to pause and clear his throat and get rid of his emotions that were threatening to spill. “She used your blood to write a spell, making it far stronger than most she’s cast. It saved your life.”

Y/N watched him for a moment.

“That must’ve been scary,” she whispered, truly understanding what she had put him through.

She simply could not imagine had it been the other way around. The idea of watching Dick die was something she hoped to never live through.

“He hadn’t left your side until Alfred basically secretly drugged him and scared him to get his own bedroom.”

Y/N moved to get out of bed.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Dick panicked as she stood up to stop her.

“I feel…” she thought about it for a moment.

“Like you were stabbed to death?” Dick offered darkly.

“No. I feel…I feel fine.”

He could tell she was telling the truth.

“Perks of magically being healed?” She offered innocently.

“Guess so.”

She moved out of the bed and realized she was wearing cotton shorts and a baggy t-shirt that she most definitely didn’t die in.

What had happened while she was asleep? How long was she dead?

Y/N went to the window and looked out at the grounds of Wayne Manor.

“What happened when the cops showed up?” She asked quietly, almost in a daze.

“You’d have to ask Tim for details. I was preoccupied with…” Dick’s words died out.

Y/N turned away from the window to look at him.

She may have survived, but that was never going to make talking about that night any easier for him.

Luckily, she understood what Dick couldn’t put into words.

Dick took in a deep breath and crossed his arms, “We got them, Y/N.”

It almost seemed to good to be true. They’d been at this for months. It took them weeks just to plan their final blow.

Y/N didn’t realize how hard it would be to believe that it was truly over.

It didn’t help that there was no returning to her old life. Too much had changed.

“With the evidence you gave the FBI, there’s not a lawyer in the world that can save them. Even if a member’s hands aren’t dirty, the public shame will be enough to neutralize them for good,” Dick added with a bit of optimism.

But he could tell by Y/N’s face that she was having trouble accepting the truth.

He took a step toward her. 

“If there’s members of The Court that slipped out from underneath us, if any of them try to come after you, it’ll just prove to the world that The Court of Owls is still operating. And exposing that will be the last thing they’ll want.”

She tried to force a small smile and nod, but it was unconvincing.

Dick closed the space between them and grabbed her hands.

“Y/N, you did it.”

“It’s really over,” she whispered, staring into his deep blue eyes.

He gave her a reassuring smile and nodded.

Then Dick’s focus shifted. He looked her up and down. “Y/N, you should really get some rest. You’ve been through a lot.”

Y/N sighed. “I think I’m gonna take a shower.” She smirked, “Get all that death off me.”

Dick frowned. “Not funny.”

“Jason would think it’s funny,” Y/N teased as she walked to the bathroom.

He playfully glared at her. “I’ll give you some space. But I’ll be down in the cave if you need me.”

Dick only got a few steps before Y/N called his name as if she’d forgotten something and rushed to him.

He looked at her expectantly.

Y/N stepped forward and locked her arms around Dick and buried her face into his shoulder. She closed her eyes and tried to control her breathing.

“Thank you,” she mumbled as his hands rubbed her back soothingly and he pulled her closer.

Dick wanted to tell Y/N that she didn’t have to thank him. He saved her life and he would do it again and again and again, and he would never expect gratitude for it. Because Dick knew that it was just as much for him as it was for her.

So instead he just held her in silence and felt the warmth from her body – the same body that had been ice cold and lifeless just days before.

When they finally pulled away, Dick was studying her face to make sure she was alright to be left alone.

He gave her one last look before leaving her.

Y/N took her time in the shower, making the water as hot as her skin would allow without giving it burns. There wasn’t a single bruise or cut on her. Her fingers traced over the place on her abdomen where the katana had been shoved through. 

There was nothing.

She wondered if there was a price to pay for such magic. Would she be held accountable? Or would it be Dick’s friend who faced the consequences?

Y/N didn’t know how long she’d been showering, but when she finally walked out, the bathroom was filled with too much steam.

She quickly put on sweatpants and a t-shirt when her stomach started growling. She couldn’t even remember when her last meal had been.

Y/N moved to her door after deciding that going straight to the kitchen was quite necessary.

But she stopped as she heard footsteps walking past her room in the hall.

She froze, thinking it was Bruce.

What would she say to him? Would he be angry with her? Would he not react at all to her resurrection? What would hurt her more between the two?

But it wasn’t Bruce. 

Tim and Damian were walking down the hallway.

“How much longer do you think he’ll stay?” She heard Damian ask.

“I don’t know. I heard the Titans have been bugging him to come back,” Tim answered. “I’m sure Kori misses him and has been texting.”

Damian just hummed in acknowledgment.

Y/N realized her hand was suspended over the doorknob.

And she had a realization: she was safe to leave.

But more importantly, she wasn’t the only one that could return to their “normal” life: so could Dick, so could everyone else in the family.

Soon, Tim would go back to his condo in the city. Jason would stop working so closely with the family he tried to disown and he’d probably stop coming around manor so often – if ever. And Bruce…Bruce would move on to new cases and return to the usual patrolling.  

Y/N turned and looked at the bedroom that had become her new home in the past few months. Her personality was nowhere to be found inside. It wasn't actually hers. She was just one of its many visitors. 

Y/N grabbed her duffle bag from underneath the queen-sized bed and started throwing her belongings into it.

Ten minutes later, Y/N had her jacket and shows on, and all of her belongings were packed in her bag. 

She still had to deal with all her equipment that was sitting in the cave. But that was a problem for another day. Right now, she didn’t have the bandwidth to deal with it. She needed to leave – before she changed her mind.

-

Y/N was just yards from the front door when she heard his voice.

“Y/N?” Dick asked just loud enough to catch her.

She froze in place.

While her back was still to him, she closed her eyes in grievance from the failure of being spotted.

She slowly turned around.

“You trying to sneak out of here?” Dick asked.

It was meant to sound teasing, but she heard his disappointment loud and clear.

“It’s about time I get out of your hair.” 

“We’re not exactly kicking you out…” Dick tried to joke.

“You said so yourself: it’s safe for me now.” She sighed and walked closer to him. “Look, I just…I need some time alone.”

Dick took it a bit too personally. Were they really that exhausting to be around? He thought she had started to see them as her own family. He thought things were OK.

“At least let me drive you,” he offered quietly.

“I called a cab. It’s waiting for me outside.”

Before Dick could say anything else, she quickly turned and made her escape.

Y/N knew what she was scared of. She was scared he’d tell her he was leaving Gotham now that the case had been solved. But she was even more scared that he’d tell her he was staying. 

She wasn’t ready to deal with either scenario.

So, Y/N did what she did best: she ran.

————————

Y/N stared at the wall of her safe house.

The silence that she had once grown used to long ago was now irritating.

Y/N hadn’t realized how accustomed she had become to the chaos of Wayne Manor until she had torn herself away from it. Even when it was quiet there, she could feel the presence of everyone.

Now she was left only to her thoughts.

And just she was about to escape the silence and go grab food at a nearby diner, there was a knock on the door.

Y/N knew for a fact that this safe-house hadn’t be blown yet – and that included with the Wayne family. It was exactly why she chose to come here instead of the one where Bruce first found her and dragged her to Wayne Manor for her own safety.

Which was why Y/N grabbed one of her guns and checked to make sure it was loaded and the safety was off before she tiptoed to the door.

She looked through the peep hole and her stomach twisted when she saw Bruce Wayne was on the other side.

She knew he could sense her presence on the other side, and there was no hiding. So she opened the door quickly.

Bruce eyed the gun in her hand. “This has become a habit of yours.”

Y/N ignored his comment, uncocked the gun, and carefully placed it on a table near the door.

When she was finally able to take Bruce in, she noted that his face was covered in bruises and small cuts. To be honest, Y/N expected more damage after being a witness to his near-death beating. 

“May I come in?” Bruce asked softly.

She blinked rapidly, realizing she had yet to invite him inside.

This was all reminiscent of that night.

And Y/N didn’t appreciate the memories and feelings Bruce was stirring up.

An awkward silence settled between them. The silence of her apartment was doing nothing to help.

“Are you okay?”

Y/N knew the question was sincere, but Bruce still managed to ask it without showing any ounce of emotion – as if he wasn’t personally invested in the matter. 

“I’m fine,” she answered quickly. Her eyes softened. “Are you okay?”

He simply nodded.

Silence again.

“You can never do that again,” Bruce declared.

“Do what?”

“You risked your life to save mine. The boys refused to tell me what happened, but I saw the footage. You threw yourself in front of me.”

Y/N remained calm as she said, “You did the same for me.”

Bruce shook his head. Because they both knew it wasn’t the same thing.

The truth was that Bruce woke up to find Dick crying over Y/N’s dead body. And then a few minutes he had watched as Dick begged Zatanna to help him.

And Bruce? Bruce had been unconscious when Y/N had needed him the most.

He had protected her all these months – with his own family and his own home – just to be useless in her final moment of need.

When Bruce finally woke up recovered to find out that Y/N had fled the manor, he knew he needed to go to her. He needed to make sure she never did something so stupid as risking her life to save him.

But now Bruce stood before her and he knew he needed to tell her so much more than just that.

“What are you doing here, Bruce? Did you just plan on lecturing me again?”

But Bruce wasn’t realized he couldn’t use any words tonight.

Ever so slowly, he stepped into her space, putting less and less space between their bodies. Y/N could feel the heat coming from him. And she sucked in a gasp from his proximity. She breathed in his cologne that she’d grown to love so much that it instantly relaxed her.

Her heart beat faster and faster as his eyes shifted down to her lips, hesitating in a way that was excruciating to Y/N. But it gave her time to resist, to allow her to shut this down before it could continue.

But Y/N didn’t want to do that.

Bruce brushed her hair away from her face, then his hands shifted slightly to cup her face. His touch wasn’t soft, but insistent.

He pressed his lips to Y/Ns. Brisk and determined. 

The tension finally snapped and pushed them to a passionate kiss that was long overdo.

Was this only going to cause them both more pain in the future?

Or was this what they should’ve done long ago?

Bruce pushed Y/N against a wall.

And then everything became a blur.

Bruce picked Y/N up and wrapped her legs around his waist for her, silently instructing her. 

Clothes were unzipped and unbuttoned, and thrown around the apartment without thought.

Their breathing was heavy and reactive to the way their hands raced across each other’s now naked skin. 

For never being at this particular safe house, Bruce found his way to the bed with ease.

From the movement of their bodies and obvious desire for one another, one thing became clear: they were never meant to only share one night together.

————

Y/N had tried with all her might to stay awake – even if that meant pulling an all-nighter.

She was trying to break the pattern. And even though Bruce had exhausted her body to no end, she didn’t want to wake up to find his side of the bed empty.

But she was shocked to open her eyes and find not only that Bruce was still in her bed, but that she had been sleeping on his bare chest with his arms wrapped tightly around her.

Y/N could feel that he was awake. Apparently he was much more disciplined than her.

Little did she know Bruce hadn’t slept at all, not wanting to miss the feeling of her against him. 

Y/N slowly lifted her head, “Hi.”

He smirked at the sleepiness in her voice.

“Hi."

“Didn’t expect you to be here still,” she admitted quietly.

“I can leave if you want.” And he meant it, even though it would hurt.

“No,” she scolded him in a breathy gasp.

The tension in his body released. 

Y/N shifted off of his chest

“And where do you think you’re going?” Bruce questioned.

She shifted so she was no longer resting on his chest, but laying on her side beside him so she could see his face.

“I just wanted to look at you,” she whispered innocently.

Bruce smirked at her answer.

Y/N made sure the bed sheet was successfully covering her nudity.

Bruce seemed amused with her sudden modesty, but said nothing of it.

“How did you find me here?” Y/N asked him.

It had been the first thing she’d wanted to ask when he showed up to her door last night. But Bruce hadn’t exactly given her a lot of space to speak last night.

Bruce’s jaw tightened, which was a message in its own. 

“Bruceeeee,” Y/N pushed back with irritation.

“You aren’t going to like the answer.”

She glared at him. “Did you put a fucking tracker on me, Bruce Wayne?”

“Your phone.”

“When?” She asked.

“After you tried to turn yourself in to the Talons.”

Y/N sighed, clearly annoyed by the answer.

They both knew she could easily disable it now that she knew about it. Even if he hadn’t confessed it, she would’ve figured it out on her own eventually.

“You’re upset,” Bruce observed.  

“How would you feel if I did the same to you? But it’s…you. And I shouldn’t be surprised.”

“Need I remind you that we only met because you blackmailed me and threatened to expose my identity to the world?”

“You know that wasn’t the same,” she shot back as she rolled her eyes. 

“You’re right.” Bruce sighed. “I promise I will deactivate it.”

“No,” Y/N surprised him by saying. “But I will make you a deal…you can always know where I am if I can know the same for you.”

Bruce knew this was a test. Because Y/N expected him to immediately shoot down such an offer. Couldn’t such information be used against Batman?

“Deal,” he agreed.

Y/N was so shocked by his compliance that her overwhelming emotions forced her to lean into him and capture his lips in a kiss.

“Should I make us breakfast?” She whispered to him after barely pulling away from his lips. 

She lightly bumped her nose against his. 

Bruce nodded with a grin.

But before Y/N could ask what he wanted, a knock at the door interrupted them.

Her heart raced at the thought of another intrusion – and a less welcomed one.  

Bruce frowned, but remained calm.

“Stay here,” he warned before placing a light kiss on her bare shoulder.

Before she could argue, he slipped out of bed.

He put his boxer briefs on, but didn’t bother with a shirt or pants.

Even though Bruce told Y/N to stay put, she still figured a mysterious knock on the door was a sign to put clothes on.

She practically threw on her underwear, but couldn’t find a single piece of clothing she had on yesterday. Yet somehow she found Bruce’s white button down and quickly buttoned on to give herself some semblance of decency.

Bruce looked through the peephole. 

He held his breath.

Bruce would’ve rather it been an attempted attack on Y/N than…this.

“Y/N, I know you’re there,” Dick called from the other side of the door.

Bruce knew she couldn’t hear him. But he knew there was no other choice than to open the door.

Bruce looked apathetic as he faced his first protégé.

But Dick knew Bruce well enough to see that there was guilt hidden underneath.

He took in Bruce’s attire – or really, the lack there of.

Dick huffed out a laugh, “Of course. I should’ve known better.”

He shook his head and turned to leave.

Bruce slammed the door shut and rubbed his face in distress.

Before he could even think of something to say to Y/N, she rushed past him and threw the door open again.

“Dick! Wait!” Y/N called to him and caught him in the hallway.

By some miracle, Dick stopped and turned to her.

He looked her up and down, lingering far too long on the white button down she was wearing that so clearly belonged to Bruce.

“Needed some time alone, huh?” 

Throwing Y/N’s own words back at her was meant to come out harsh and cold. But it ended up sounding heartbroken and betrayed.

And, honestly, that was worse to Y/N.

She have any idea what to say to him.

What would even make him feel better?

So, Y/N just watched Dick slowly walk away.

She stepped back into the safe house with tears in her eyes.

Bruce immediately moved to her. 

“Y/N–”

But Y/N shook her head, stopping him from saying anything more.

“I should go,” Bruce told her. 

He couldn’t help himself as he reached to wipe her tears away.

“I should probably give you your shirt back,” she said between sniffles.

Had the situation been different, it would’ve sounded funny. 

But there was no humor here. 

Bruce’s innocent touch of wiping her tears away made it hard for Y/N to concentrate.

So she escaped into the bedroom and quickly changed into her own clothes.

When she walked back out, she had all of Bruce’s stuff in her arms.

Once Bruce was in his clothes again, he didn’t know what to do or say next.

It was hard for Bruce to leave Y/N when she was so visibly upset. Dick wasn’t here to make Y/N feel better this time...and that was all Bruce’s fault.

“I’m not used to saying bye to you,” Y/N finally broke the tension.

Bruce’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

A sad look flashed across her face as she processed her thoughts. “Usually I wake up…and you’re gone. You don’t even give me a chance to.”

Bruce bowed his head in shame. “I shouldn’t have done that to you,” he finally admitted to her.

Y/N nodded slowly, agreeing with him.

“But you did,” she whispered. 

Her voice sounded congested from all the tears she just shed. 

“And all this time, I let myself think it was OK or even that I was the one who had messed it all up.”

Bruce quickly shook his head. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Y/N.”

Her eyes darkened. “Why did you have to make it so hard to stay away from you, Bruce?”

An he knew he deserved that. “I’ve been selfish,” he confessed.

Bruce hesitated before giving her a slow kiss on the cheek.

It was the first time Y/N had ever seen him unsure of himself.

Without saying anything more, he turned and left.

“Goodbye, Bruce.” Y/N whispered long after he could still hear her.

----------------------------------------

Part XI

Did I ruin your life? Let me know 😂

[petitelepus]

Yo I noticed that you haven’t write about wreck gar so- wreck gar number 23?

THIS GOT WAY TOO LONG, BUT ENJOY SOME HUMANFORMERS WRECK-GAR AND SCHOOL!AU!

You hate it there. The school was a real drag and you couldn't stand being there any longer than you had to but the world was cruel and in hopes of getting a proper job one day you had to have graduated from university with grades that would shine like stars in the night sky.

You hated being in the classroom filled with people who didn't care shit about you and why should they? You hadn't exactly been talking with your classmates since... You started school a year and a half ago. You knew you could have made friends, but you hated school, you hated people and you hated yourself.

Especially when Professor gave back your exam and you saw a big fat C on the front page. You felt your stomach drop and despair clutch your heart. Another C...

You looked over your shoulder, watching after the professor, but he was already at the far end of the class. You swallowed as you put the exam away and waited for the class to end so you could talk with your professor. The class ended half an hour later and you wanted to approach the professor but he was surrounded by your classmates. So you waited and finally, when the other students had left, you approached the older man.

"Uh, professor? About my grade... Do you think I could take the exam again?" You asked bashfully and the man looked at you. "I'm afraid to tell, but all grades are final."

"B- but... I can do better. I just need some time." You swallowed, "Please professor Ratchet, let me take the exam again."

"Is everything alright?" Ratchet asked and you frowned in silence before nodding, "I guess..."

"Look kid, I'm going to ask you..." Professor Ratchet cleared his throat and looked at you seriously, "Is everything alright with you? You aren't being bullied or anything?"

"N- No, sir." You frowned. The old man nodded, "Is everything okay at your home?"

"I live alone." You blurted, but it was true. You used to live in this small town, but when you had gotten into Cybertronian University you had moved onto your own from home. The professor sighed and took his huge calendar and looked through the days. "I can't let you take the exam again, but if you want I can get you some remedial instruction."

"I..." You really didn't want that, but it might have been what you needed. "Can I think about it?"

"Sure thing kid." Professor nodded and looked at the clock that hung over the classroom's door. "Now get going. School is done by today."

You nodded and bid your professor good day before leaving. Only a handful of students were scattered around the university and you were one of them. You went to the front door and were about to leave when thunder suddenly roared and it started to rain like crazy. Typical Autumn rain.

You groaned. You didn't have an umbrella. Just your luck. Well, you would have to suck it up and take off. You pushed your school bag against your chest and ran out into the rain, but you had a plan. There was a 24/7 market just around the corner and they usually sold everything, umbrellas included.

You entered the store and the cashier looked at you as water dripped down your hair and clothing. You didn't dare to say anything but smile awkwardly as you took a shopping basket and went to search for food and an umbrella. Noodles for your poor ass, energy drinks for your night owl life, and a cheap umbrella.

You paid the cashier and left the store quietly before opening your new umbrella and setting on your journey back to your apartment. You tried to dig out your ear puds but you couldn't find them from your bag so they must have been left in your apartment.

"Shit. This day can't get any worse." You cursed by yourself and kept going while listening to thunder wreck havoc above in the clouds. As you thought what a crappy day you had you saw something orange peeking from an alley and you stopped for long enough to see what it was.

"Oh, you guys are adorable! What am I going to call you?"

It was a man with a bright orange jacket and a rucksack big and full enough to last for a long hiking trip. At first, you thought he might be drunk or on some sort of drugs as you listened to him talk by himself so excitedly. You were about to leave when you heard the tiniest meow and you stopped on your tracks. Cat?

Carefully, you patted the man's shoulder and he looked over the said shoulder at you. You blinked. "Uh, is everything okay?"

"Hello! I'm Wreck-Gar!" The man greeted you happily and stepped aside enough for you to see a cardboard box that was just about to crumble into wet mush in the hard rain... but what caught your attention were the 4 little kittens in the box. Your felt like your heart was about to jump out of your chest and you awed.

Wreck-Gar smiled, "I found these little guys! Cute, aren't they?"

"Very cute." You nodded and looked at him. "Are they yours?"

"No, I found them!" He turned and took a folded paper from his pocket and gave it to you. "They had this with them!"

You took the paper and read the message. "Free Kittens." You frowned but Wreck-Gar was smiling. "Aren't we lucky! They are free!"

"They're orphans." You said and looked at the man. "They should be taken to shelter. Can you do that?"

"Sure!" He said with a wide smile but you frowned, remembering that all the shelters were probably closed by the time you would make it to one. School had stretched and the sky was turning dark. One of Autumn's many miracles. "They can be taken tomorrow. Do you have a home where to take them?"

"No! I just came to the city!" He said like nothing was wrong. You blinked in and wondered how he could be so happy? He is soaking wet, he has nowhere to go, and now he has four little lives in his arms. You weren't prepared for this. You were getting anxious, you had to get away.

"Ah... Okay." You nodded and turned to leave, "G- good luck!"

"Bye-bye!" The man called after you and you managed to step out of the alley before your feelings took over and assassinated your common sense. Fuck it. You turned around and raised the umbrella over the man's and kittens' heads. Wreck-Gar looked at you over his shoulder and smiled, "Oh, you came back!"

"Yes, uh... Do you have any place to go? Friends or something like that?" You asked, but Wreck-Gar shook his head, still smiling. "Nope! But I have a tent in my backpack! I can sleep in the park!"

He could definitely NOT do that! The cops would take him straight to the station and you didn't have enough money to send him to a motel. Aah, you felt a headache coming. Must have been thunder and this big man's constant happiness. Not only that, but you felt weak from hunger. You rubbed the ridge of your nose with your fingers and looked at him. "Would you like to come and spend the night at my place?"

You didn't believe it was possible, but Wreck-Gar's smile got even bigger and he jumped up on his feet from his crouching position and you were taken aback by how tall he was and you got to experience it as he hugged you tightly against his chest.

"I'm so happy! Me and kittens get to stay with-!" He stopped and frowned in confusion, "What's your name?"

You told him your name and he cheered up again as he repeated your name. You tapped his arm and he seemed to realize that he was hugging you a little too hard. "Oh, my bad!" He said and kneeled back down to grab two kittens and he offered them to you. "Will you help with kitties?"

"Yeah, sure. Hand them over." You nodded and carefully took the black and white kittens into your arms while trying not to drop your umbrella. Wreck-Gar got the last two kittens and you two started walking through the rainy city streets until you got to your building complex.

You inserted the key and opened the door, but just before you stepped inside you turned and looked at Wreck-Gar seriously. "If you try anything stupid then or I'll scream loud enough for neighbors to call the cops."

"Right! I won't try anything stupid!" He said and you had a feeling he was being genuine so you let him in and you took an elevator to your floor. Once there, you used your keys to get inside and flicked the lights on.

"Shit." You cursed when you realized what kind of a mess your apartment was. Empty noodle cups and empty energy drunk cans were scattered everywhere

"Did you have an accident?" Wreck-Gar asked and you blushed in embarrassment, "Wha- No! My apartment is a mess!" You cried out before shame washed over you and you took off your shoes and he copied you. Both of you put the kittens down and the little things immediately started to meow. You smiled and put your bag down. "Let's get you and kittens warm. You can sleep on my couch this night."

Wreck-Gar looked at your couch covered in clean or dirty laundry, you weren't sure anymore yourself either, but he was still smiling. "Got it! I'll sleep on the couch!"

"Just a second." You sighed as you grabbed your clothes and threw them onto your bed that weird enough was the only clean place in the small apartment. But just as you were about to go and search for the extra blanket you felt your headache turning worse. You had to sit down on your bed for a second, but Wreck-Gar seemed to notice you weren't feeling good.

"Are you okay?" He asked and you wanted to nod, but you couldn't. "Just... Tired."

The kittens were meowing and you wanted to help them, but your body seemed to shut down. You could rest your eyes a little bit. You closed your eyes for a moment to stabilize your breathing but you didn't open them... Not until a couple of hours later.

You groaned as you tried to recall what had happened, but your head was hurting too much. It felt like there were razor blades whirling inside your head. You groaned as you heard clanking here and there but suddenly the noises died out and someone pushed a cold glass of water into your hand and a pill to another.

You didn't even think, you just automatically took the pill and chased it down with water. "Thank you..." You muttered weakly before you buried your head between your pillows and fell back into sleep.

You didn't wake up, until the next day. You groaned, but you felt much better. Like, a ton better. You felt like a new person, but you still wanted to sleep... Until you heard meowing and your eyes snapped open as you bolted up. The kittens! Wreck-Gar! You looked around and saw the little black and white kittens chasing each other around the floor.

Wait. Your floor was clean? You looked around and saw that all your energy drink cans and empty noodle cups were gone. Also, what was that scent drifting through the air?

Suddenly your bathroom door opened and Wreck-Gar steps out of the little room, wearing your pink bathrobe and a towel wrapped around his head. The look on him was actually pretty funny and you snorted as you tried not to smile or laugh, but the man noticed and beamed like a sun when his brown eyes landed on you.

"You're awake!" He cheered before suddenly smacking his hands over his mouth and then whispering again, "You're awake...!"

You nodded as you looked around and then at him. "Did you clean here?"

"I wanted to help the nice person who helped Wreck-Gar and kitties!" He said and smiled as he rushed across the room to your small kitchen. You rubbed your eyes as you pushed yourself on your feet, grabbed some clean clothes, and went to take a shower. You let Wreck-Gar know that shower was taken and you got rid of your dirty clothes and took a quick shower.

You put the clothes on and stepped out of the bathroom, rubbing your hair clean dry with your towel and you were about to head to the kitchen but then you saw a bowl of soup on your coffee table in front of your couch.

"I made you soup since you're sick!" Wreck-Gar said happily and you blinked as you took a seat on the couch. "What is it...?"

"It's chicken noodle soup! Eat your soup before it gets cold!”

"How did you get chicken? I had nothing in my fridge." You asked and Wreck-Gar looked extremely proud of himself as he smiled, "I took all your cans to the recycle and got meat with the refunds!"

"What about kittens?" You looked at the four little furballs running around, but they didn't seem hungry. If anything, they had a lot of energy.

"I boiled some chicken for them also and shredded it!" He said and you turned to look at him. Wreck-Gar while you had been sick, this unknown person had cleaned, taken care of you and kittens, and made you all food. And that wasn't the end of it. You watched with eyes wide how the man took off the towel around his head and his long black hair fell over his shoulders.

You could feel a blush rise to your cheeks as you looked at him. You had been too tired and sick last night to take notice but Wreck-Gar was quite handsome. His skin was lightly tanned, he had a clean face with some mustaches that he must have cleaned up in the shower. And damn, he looked good as he tied his long dark hair into a bun.

Wreck-Gar notices you looking and your blush grew darker but he seemed completely clueless. He smiled instead and pointed at the soup, "Please eat! I called a doctor to check you!"

"You have a phone?" You asked and he seemed proud. "I have everything I need in my backpack!"

"Even local doctor's number?" You asked, but now you were just teasing him. You ate the chicken noodle soup he had made and you could feel your strength coming back to you.

A doorbell rang and you were about to let the doctor in with your control panel by the door, but Wreck-Gar was faster. "I'm buzzing you in, father!"

"Wait..." You blinked in shock, "You said you don't have friends or anyone to go to!"

"You didn't ask about family!" He said and you blinked. This man was either the most trusting and kindest man you have ever met or then he was that and dumb. Your apartment's doorbell rang and Wreck-Gar opened it for his father and-!

"Professor Ratchet?" You asked and the old man blinked in shock as his old eyes landed on you. He repeated your name in surprise and you looked at the younger man.

"You know my professor?"

"I sure do! Ratchet is my father!" Wreck-Gar exclaimed and your eyes widened in shock and you snapped your attention to your professor who looked like he was one now having a killer headache. He saw how you looked at him and shook his head. "He remembers wrong, I've told him I'm no father figure!"

"Ratchet and I met while hiking!" Wreck-Gar cheered. Ratchet grumbled under his breath as he walked to you and started to ask you questions about your health and how you were feeling. You told him honestly and he nodded, pleased that you were healthy again. "Must have been stress that got you. You can take a couple of days off from school, I'll let the other teachers know that you needed rest."

"Thank you." You were honestly so overjoyed that you could almost cry. Suddenly you heard a tiny meow and you all turned to look at the kittens that were interested in your professor's jacket. "I didn't know you had cats."

"I actually don't..." You frowned, "I found Wreck-Gar and he had found them in an alley."

"Of course." Ratched looked at the young man and grunted, "Wreck-Gar, you can't keep doing stuff like this!"

"I tried to help the kitties." He said and Ratchet crossed his arms. "I cannot let you stay here any longer and bother my student. Grab the kittens, you're coming to my place. We will discuss what to do with you there."

Wreck-Gar didn't seem to notice how serious the situation was, as he was still smiling. One by one they got the 4 kittens and Ratchet excused himself and his friend... But you couldn't let it be the end.

"Wait!" You called after them and they both stopped and looked at you. You blushed and swallowed your fears, "Professor, if Wreck-Gar doesn't have any other place to live... Could he stay with me?"

"Please, you don't have to feel any responsibility for him. I can take him off your hair." Professor said but you shook your head. "No, he actually took care of me instead of another way around. And I like him."

You smiled as you looked at Wreck-Gar who was beaming, "He isn't like other people I've met."

"I don't know... He needs to be taken out regularly and he needs very much attention and training." Ratchet said and you blinked. Did your professor just describe a dog?

"I think I can handle him." You smiled and Wreck-Gar cheered, "I get to live with such a nice person!"

Professor Ratchet grumbled but finally nodded, "Alright, but when you return to school after two days of rest, take Wreck-Gar with you. I'll get him a job there so he isn't leeching on you. Oh, and what are you going to do with the cats?"

"It's okay." You nodded as you scratched one kitty's chin, "I think we can find a home for them. Just like Wreck-Gar."

And you did. Your cousin happily took the kittens and found them a life-lasting home. Wreck-Gar moved to live on your couch and when you returned to the school, he got a job as a janitor. Not the most glamorous job, but he is good at cleaning and keeping the university in shape. He also made school less bad for you.

And... a couple of months later you and Wreck-Gar kinda started dating, but that was a story for another time.

[oneletteredwondered]

Kiss me you animal

Sum: dance like no one is watching

Pair: Virgil/Remus, Dukexiety

Written for @dukexietyweek Day 5: Music

Warnings: song!fic, probably swearing, mild anxious feelings, MCR.

--

Remus is bored. Which is never a good thing on it’s own. But he’s also bored and lonely. He wants to do something with someone but he isn’t sure what he wants to do either which make him more frustrated with being bored and lonely. He groans to himself and the walls around him shudder with the force. He’s so bored he actually walks down stairs to the common area instead of just sinking through the ceiling and landing with a crash like he usually does.

The common room is dark, and dingy, and a little messy, but most certainly lived in and loved by its occupants. Remus kind of likes it that way, make it easier to hide stuff in the cushions to be found later for a well awaited prank.

This time the room is not empty. For once in a blue moon Virgil is on the couch, curled up in a tight ball of a blanket with his headphones on. Remus twists his nose up at him in greeting and Virgil flips him off in return. As he passes by he catches the sound of music coming from the headphones and an idea strikes him.

With an easy snap of his fingers, the music stops in the headphones and plays from loudspeakers now lining the top of the room. Some bright colored lights flood the floor and Virgil jumps out of his skin at the sudden new loudness.

“Remus what the fuck dude!” Virgil cries out but it’s too late, Remus is already headbanging wildly to the song playing and not caring for anything else, screaming the lyrics loudly.

“Drugs, gimme drugs, gimme drugs, I don't need it, but I'll sell what you got, take the cash and I'll keep it!” 

He gesutres wildly to Virgil who is still looking at him like he’s crazy which to be fair Virgil does a lot but this seems more directed this time. Remus hops over the couch towards him and Virgil jumps back and hits the wall, skittering up like a spider.

“Eight legs to the wall, hit the gas, kill them all, and we crawl, and we crawl, and we crawl! You be my detonator!” Virgil lets out a snort but stays safe on the wall for while longer as Remus belts out the lyrics and shakes the entire common space with the force of his passion. He thrashes about, not ruining anything but certinaly causing a disruption. He spies Virgil whispering along to the lyrics as well and decides that just won't do. He slides to stop in front of Virgil with his hands out and an inviting smile.

“Gimme more, gimme more, gimme more, shut up and sing it with me!” He yanks Virgil down and pulls him into a weird spinning jumping sort of dance, no ryhme or reason, just pure movement. He’s screaming along to one part of the song while Virgil does the chorus slowly getting louder and louder. The general air of tension Virgil keeps close around him is slowly dissolving. He's laughing as he sings and the smile he wears is one Remus does not see often.

It’s a hidden sort of thing, because Virgil is all of the fears and worries, and one is that his smile looks weird or bad. But it’s here now that smile, and Virgil looks so unashamed to show it that it makes Remus even more crazy.

“More, gimme more, gimme more!” Remus spins Virgil away from him and hops up on the table.

“Oh, let me tell you about the sad man!” He makes a crying motion with his hands, his outfit shifting to pastel blue and grey, a mockery of Patton. Virgil snorts and turns away from him but Remus is faster he slides in front of Virgil and now dorns yellow and black.

“ Shut up and let me see your jazz hands,” He echos and Virgil does the jazz hands with him with no shame.

“Remember when you were a madman," Blue and black and glasses, and a crazed expression has Virgil busting out laughing.

“Thought you was Batman!” Something blindingly red and Virgil is pushing him away only to rock his head back and forth to the music.

“Hit the party with a gas can! Kiss me, you animal!” Virgil shouts the lyrics and Remus feels like ice water was dumped down his spine as Virgil keeps recklessly singing the lyrics. A sudden part of him wants to. Wants to kiss this wild Virgil who looks carefree and happy and for once not worrying what someone else thinks about him. Remus wants so badly.

So he gets closer as the song reaches a lull and back to back they rasie their hands, palms up with their fingers pointed to the sky, pressing into each other for support and energy, feeling the buzz between each other as the song begins to pick up again.

They turn and face each other screaming out the lyrics. Smiles on both their faces.

"Everybody wants to change the world, but no one, no one, wants to die, wanna try, wanna try, wanna try, wanna try, wanna try, now-!"

They head bang in time to the music, a miracle they don't bang into each other with the building force of their movements. Remus can see multitudes in Virgil’s eyes as he screams.

"I'll be your detonator!” And the music gets louder by Remus’s doing. It pounds in his ear drums as they both dance haphazardly to the music, jumping on the couch and table, kicking over a chair or two just because they can.

Remus sees Virgil laughing and looking so free of worries for the first time in a long time and he can’t stand to be away from him any longer. He dahes forward and right as the lyrics pick back up he hoists Virgil up in his arms and spins him about

“Na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na!” They shout to the ceiling and Remus drops Virgil back to his feet, making sure to keep one hand on him as much as possible, gripping his fingers, hand on his shoulder, pressed up against his side or back. Remus needs to be closer to him, to somehow let Virgil know this wild side of him is welcome, wanted, beautiful.

They end face to face, hair in their eyes and cheeks red with the force of their yelling. The two of them barely breathing enough to continue but they do if nothing else than out of pure spite.

“I'd rather go to hell! Than be in a purgatory!” Remus screams.

“Cut my hair, gag and bore me!” Virgil shouts back at him.

“Pull this pin!” Remus grabs Virgil by the waist and spins him, dropping him into a dip.

“Let this world explode!” Virgil breathes out the last lyric, letting his hand fall down to the ground with his head back, Remus being the only thing keeping him from falling to the ground. 

The sound of their panting fills the room as the speakers Remus put up melt into puddles and disappear. Silence surrounds them and with a small squeaking cackle, Remus hoists Virgil back to a proper standing postion but doesn't remove his hands from Virgil's waist. Virgil is still smiling and laughing, shaking his head at his own enjoyment and Remus doesn't want to let him go for a second.

But then Virgil looks at him, the smile on his face slowly falling away as he realizes the position they’re in and what he jsut did.

“Uh-” Virgil says eloquently and weasels his way out of Remus’s hands. He rubs his arms and shrinks, and just like that, the sudden explosion of who he was is gone leaving Remus whiplashed. Virgil moves to walk away.

“Where you going?” Remus asks him, trailing like a lost dog. Virgil gives him a grimace.

“Away form here,” Virgil says and before Remus can do anything else Virgil sinks out leaving him hollow and definitely missing something. Remus spins in a circle looking at the upturned room from their dancing. 

They were having fun. Laughing, getting along, and Remus didn't bring out any kind of intestines or bugs or anything. It was fun and Virgil was smiling and looking so alive and now it's gone and Remus doesn’t know why.

Now he's, bored, certainly lonely, and confused.

With a twist in his mouth he sinks out to Virgil's room, except he pops up in front of Virgil's purple door and not inside like he intended meaning Virgil has locked it.

“Oh Virgey! Let me in!” Remus coos and knocks on the door quickly. There’s a muffled 'no' from the other side that makes Remus pout.

“Little pig little pig let me in!” He tries again. This time no answer at all. Remus tilts his head to the side with a crack and waves his hand at the door, willing it to open for him. It does and he steps inside.

“Seriously dude?” Virgil snaps at him because they both know that Remus knows that Virgil doesn't like when he breaks into his room. He sits up on his bed and Remus closes the door behind him with a kick.

“What just happned.” He demands. Virgil glares at him.

“What are you talk-”

“We were having fun, and dancing and singing and having fun and you just left.” Remus accuses of him angrily. Virgil slinks down at his words, not looking at Remus as he does.

“It's nothing dude just forget about it.” Virgil turns away from him and flops to his bed, putting his back towards Remus. Remus’s blood boils and he can feel the steam coming out of his nose when he exhales.

“No.” He says decidedly and stalks forward. Virgil twists just enough to see him coming but Remus is faster, landing on Virgil's bed with both his hands smacking down on either side of Virgil's head to trap him down.

“We were having fun, what happened.” He asks again. Virgil shifts uncomfortably under him, the feeling of being trapped starting to edge on his anxiety. The shadows of the room twist and creep closer but Remus glares them back with a look.

“It’s just- I don't know! We were so exposed out there and- it probably looked super fucking dumb I don't know!” Virgil scrambles for words and Remus lets out another smokey exhale.

“You know I don't give a shit what you do or what you look like right?” He deadpans. Virgil freezes and stares at him. Remus arcs an eyebrow at the confused expression.

“Out of all the people to not give a fuck how you look, I am probably the best bet,” Remus says a little softer this time, gently easing back so Virgil is less trapped but still beneath him. Virgil relaxes a little and covers his mouth with his hand.

“I know that, I do , it's just.. hard to remember sometimes. Because of, the whole-” Virgil gestures to himself as a whole and Remus rolls his eyes so hard they fall out of his head and across the floor. He shakes his head and new eyes appear in the sockets, an electric purple just for Virgil.

“Listen raggedy anx, I don't give a flying fuck,” He says and grabs Virgil's hand from across his mouth. He knows how embarrassed Virgil is by his smile, a common fear for many, but not for Remus.

“-About any of that shit.” Carefully he brings Virgil's hand to his face and kisses his palm. He feels Virgil still below him but he doesn't stop. He feels a burning inside him and he's never really learned how to call it quits before.

“I liked seeing you act all crazy and wild. I liked seeing you smile and having fun. I liked that you were having fun with me. How many more times do I need to say it?” Remus asks him then, glaring from over Virgil's hand still pressed to his face. He’d say it seven million more times if needed. Virgil swallows hard and Remus zeros in on the action hungrily.

“Maybe.. maybe a few more times wouldn't hurt?” Virgil chokes out, embarrassed about wanting the attention but Remus isn’t. He smirks wildly.

“I liked hearing you sing, i liked hearing you scream, i liked seeing you kick over a chair” HE says and Virigl snorts and attemps cover his mouth with his hand but Remus is still holding it and ends up squeezing their hands together.

“I like seeing you smile I like seeing you be happy, I like seeing you having fun,” Remus goes on and Virgil is giggling hysterically now unsure of how to respond to the affection. 

“I like hearing you laugh.. I like seeing you beanth me," Here Remus wiggles his eyebrows and Virgil takes the nearest pillow to shove in his face in a peel of laughter. Remus shoves it out of the way and dives forward, scooping Virgil in his arms and shaking his head into Virgil's chest. He can hear Virgil's heart beating and the shakiness of his breathing but he's alive in his hands and it sends him reeling.

“I like you,” He pops up to look at Virgil. Virgil's smile slips off to a bewildered expression. Remus stares back at him. And since he’s never thought anything through in his life, Remus shifts a hand out from under Virgil to place on his cheek to hold him steady and kiss him.

Virgil lets out a shaky exhale of a noise through his nose that Remus can feel on his cheek but it doesn't stop him, especially not when Virgil’s tension of existing seems to melt away. So he kisses a little longer until Virgil gently places a hand on his chest and pushes him back. He stares down as Virgil catches his breath.

“I liked that,” Remus says then. Virgil looks up at him, a lopsided smile crosses his face.

“It was. It was alright,” Virgil tells him but there’s a hint of smirk there that has Remus buzzing.

“Can I do it again?” Remus asks and shimmies a little in excitment. Virgil snorts and almost, almost covers his mouth with his hand, but thinks twice and moves it to the back of Remus’s head to scratch at the base of his neck. Remus lets out a grumbling purr at the action.

“I guess you can, if you want.” Virgil tells him.

“Do you want?” Remus asks. Virgil bites his lip and Remus decides he too, would like to bite Virgil's lip.

“Yeah, I.. yeah I would like that.” Remus scrunches his nose.

“Are you sure?” He doesn't want Virgil to tighten up or fall back into his shell now. Virgil huffs at him and tugs him down just a little.

“Kiss me you animal.” And no sooner do the words leave his mouth is Remus dropping down again to kiss him, getting Virgil's lower lip between his teeth and nipping at it playfully. 

They spend the rest of the day curled up around each other in Virgil's bed, kissing and teasing each other over stupid things and Remus is wiggling happily. He’s no longer bored, or confused, and certainly not lonely.

[p-artsypants]

Integrity-Part 3

Ao3 | FF.net

In the morning, Adrien awoke feeling lightheaded and dizzy.

“Hey, take it easy.” Plagg said softly.

“What…?” Nausea washed over him, settling unpleasantly in his tummy. “My stomach…”

“Yeah. Just take your time sitting up.”

This didn’t make sense. He had taken two ibuprofen before bed. Was this the after effects of shock? Or was there something wrong with Madam Cheng’s soup?

“What’s going on?”

“You don’t remember?”

Rubbing his eyes to wake up more and shake off the dizziness, Adrien sat up in bed…no. On the couch.

His room was trashed. All the books and movies were pulled off the shelves, his bedding was bunched up in the corner, and there were feathers everywhere from his pillows. The clothes from his closet were all over the bed and strewn on the floor.

Glancing towards the bathroom, it appeared to have been raided as well.

“What…?”

“Your father came back in after you went to bed. I left Ladybug’s house around 5am and came here. You and your father were fighting…but you were really…you were acting weird. I couldn’t understand what you were saying. Some of it was Chinese, and some of it was just garbage. You swung your fists at him, but he just kept tearing your room apart. I think he was looking for the Miraculous.”

“Ugh. I guess that trust wasn’t very deep.” He rested his head in his hands, and then winced. His face hurt.

Slowly and staggering, he made his way to the bathroom, only to find that his left eye was bruised.

“I think he…he gave you something.” Plagg said sadly. He was holding onto his tail, something he only did when he was genuinely scared or sad.

“What? Like I was drugged?”

“I think so. If you don’t remember any of that.”

“I...I remember you leaving and then going to bed. But that’s it.”

“Yeah. I think your father drugged you.”

Adrien combed his disheveled hair, taming it into something less chaotic. Then he walked back to sit at the end of his bed, staring at the chaos of his room. He hoped his father wasn’t expecting him to clean all this up.

“I don’t know why I expected better from a man who had Lila stalking me.” His voice was calm, despite the raging storm inside his chest.

His father was dead, the man known as Gabriel Agreste was just a husk full of garbage. Desperate, illogical, garbage.

“I’m glad I’m leaving for a while.” He stood, and picked through the clothes that were scattered everywhere.

He didn’t really want to be a model today. Though he didn’t own many clothes that his father hadn’t designed, but picking an outfit that was ‘so last year’ would be a start.

A comfortable cashmere creme cardigan, over a thin, black v-neck, and stonewashed jeans.

Comfortable, and boring. Perfect.

Adrien collected his book bag, making sure his homework was still in one piece. The bag had been upturned, but his tablet was okay.

Finally, he turned his phone off and left it on his desk.

“You’re up early,” Plagg commented. “If you leave now, no one will be at the school.”

“Then I won’t go to the school. Bakeries are open early.”

Plagg smiled, and zipped into a pocket on his cardigan.

Downstairs, he was unsurprised to be escorted by Nathalie into the dining room.

His father was there, waiting to have breakfast with him. For the first time in what felt like forever.

“Good morning, son.” Gabriel spoke, plainly and without shame.

How dare he. How dare he try to act like everything was peaches and creme. How dare he just sit there!

Adrien clenched his bag strap. “Father.”

“Oh come now, don’t be like that. Come and sit, there’s breakfast.”

Adrien glared at him. “So I’m just supposed to ignore my black eye?”

“No, of course not. We’ll put some cover up on it.”

Adrien shook his head. “I told you I trusted you. You said you trusted me. Apparently, you lied.”

“Adrien...”

Adrien took out his wallet, and took out the note he had written last night. He placed it on the table next to his father.

“I’m not hungry.” He stated, before leaving the room.

Even when his father called after him, Adrien kept moving. He couldn’t stop. Not until he was free!

The mansion doors slammed shut behind him, and he sprinted to the gate.

There was no stopping him now.

—

Marinette woke up at her first alarm. Not rested. Not really possible when you’re awakened in the middle of the night with the biggest news of them all.

“Good morning, Marinette.” Tikki spoke softly, as one would talk to someone with a hangover.

“Morning. You guys have a fun time last night?”

“Hmm...sort of. It was fun to have everyone together. But we spent a long time just talking with Nooroo. It was…emotional.”

“Oh. Gabriel didn’t treat him well?”

“Nooroo was only allowed to call him ‘Master’.”

Marinette scoffed in disgust. “When things are a little more under control, I’ll take him out and talk with him. As of right now, Chat and I are the only ones that know Hawkmoth is gone. I don’t even know how we announce it.”

“You should probably talk to Chat first. The man is still around. Or maybe not! He should probably go to jail.”

“If he hasn’t already left Paris.” Marinette stated as she rose from bed.

Oh.

But what about Adrien?

How was she supposed to explain this to him? ‘Hi, love of my life, your father is a terrorist, and I have to put him in jail! Hope this won’t put a damper on our relationship!’

Damn it all to hell. Adrien would never speak to her again. This would completely ruin him. Because how do you deal with something like that? The only parent you have left, put in jail by the girl you thought you loved. There was just no coming back from it.

Marinette rested her head in her hands. “What do I do, Tikki?”

“Talk. To. Chat.” Tikki pressed. “Don’t do anything until then! You don’t know the whole story!”

“Yeah…” She sighed. “Man, I thought defeating Hawkmoth meant less stress, not more.”

“Just different stress.” Tikki tutted, bringing her her hairbrush.

“Thanks.” She took out her hair ties and brushed her hair. “Ugh, and now I have to go to school and face everyone after that blow up I had yesterday. I can’t.”

“You have Nino and Adrien though!”

“I can’t bare to look at Adrien. I think…I might cry if I do.”

Tikki rubbed against her cheek. “I don’t think Adrien would hold it against you. His father brought this upon himself. And he will know that.”

“I just…I don’t want to be the one to tell him.”

“Let’s just worry about getting through the school day first.”

“Yeah. Okay. You’re right.”

Today called for a creme colored cardigan, over her favorite black t-shirt (the one that was a little worn and stretchy), and a pair of distressed jeans. She opted for a bun as well, wanting to distance herself from Ladybug for the day.    

“You know...” thought Tikki, as Marinette gathered her school supplies. “Now that Hawkmoth is gone, you really could tell your parents. It might clear up some lingering distrust, and they could be on alert for the Miracle Box when you aren’t home.”

Marinette considered it, shouldering her bag. “It would clear things up...”

“It’s your choice of course. Just something to consider.”

“Yeah. I think that’s a good idea! I’ll tell them at dinner! And they can be the first civilians to know that Hawkmoth is gone!”

Newly motivated, Marinette skipped down the steps to breakfast.

However, it wasn’t just her mother in the kitchen.

“Hey Marinette,” Adrien said shyly. He glanced her over. “I guess one of us will have to change.”

It didn’t even compute with her that he was talking about her outfit.

His eye. He had a black eye. And besides that, he looked like a crumpled mess.

“Adrien? What—what happened?”

“Uh...little disagreement with my father. Your mom said I could stay with you guys, but I wanted to make sure you were cool with it.”

“Me? Sure! Of course!”

“Good, because there’s no one I’d rather trust.” He furrowed his brows a little more. “I have to be able to trust someone.”

God. Like a punch in the gut. Sure, he trusted her now, when he knew she was Ladybug. But once he found out his father was Hawkmoth, and she put him in jail? Game over. Trust broken. Heart broken.

She sat across from him, and held his hand. “You can trust me, Adrien. I only have your best interests at heart.”

He smiled at her. The doom and gloom seemed to flit away as adoration took its place.

‘Talk to Chat first’ Tikki’s voice reminded her in her mind. ‘You don’t know the whole story.’

Oh god! What if the disagreement was over the Miraculous? What if Adrien suffered because of Chat?

This was unfair.

Damn Gabriel.

“Omelets!” Sabine sang, placing plates in front of them. “And for you dear.” She gave Adrien a cold pack for his face.

“Thank you Madam Cheng.”

“Of course sweetie. If you need anything else, just let me know. And you can call me Sabine, or whatever you’re most comfortable with.”

“Thank you, Sabine.” He smiled briefly.

“If you’re staying with us, do you need someone to get some clothes and stuff?” Asked Marinette.

“No, I snuck a bag out last night. It’s at school.”

“How did you manage that?”

Adrien bit his lip. “I got some help from Chat Noir.”

Her eyes widened, and she spoke quietly. “So...do you...you know, know?”

“Yeah. I promise I’ll tell you everything later, but...” he glanced over at her mom. “We have other things to deal with.”

Marinette understood what he was getting at, and decided to shelf the conversation. At least until she talked to Chat. Once she had all sides of the story, she could come up with a solution that benefited everyone. “I’m not really looking forward to school. Especially with what happened yesterday.”

He chuckled. “Oh my god, that was just yesterday. I had a long night.”

“I bet.”

“I didn’t mean to change the subject. I’m safe now, so let’s worry about you.”

“It’s okay, Adrien, really. We’ve got each other’s backs, okay?”

“Yeah.”

Marinette glanced at her phone. “Still haven’t heard from Alya. I don’t know if Nino didn’t get through, or if she’s waiting to talk to me in person.”

“Well, I know it sucks, but maybe just let her go?”

She shrugged. “I mean, maybe. Her manipulation tactic yesterday hurt really bad. But she’s the one that’s fueling Lila. Since she wants to be a reporter so bad, I want her to consider that she may get bad leads.”

“Wait, manipulation tactic? What did she say? There was a lot happening yesterday and I don’t know if I caught everything.”

“She said something like, ‘the way you are acting is really hurting me’ when I was the one that was really upset. Granted, Lila was the one that gave her that idea.”

“Why is that manipulative?” He asked, genuinely curious.

“She was trying to make me feel guilty because I was angry. I was upsetting her because I was upset. You see?”

It was like a lightbulb went on in Adrien’s head, as his eyes widened, before his head dropped on the table. “So many people have used that on me, and I’ve fallen for it every time.”

“Oh Adrien...”

“Thank you,” he said, sitting up. “I guess there’s still a lot for me to learn about social cues.”

“It’s okay! I can help you.”

“Hate to interrupt,” said Sabine, “but if you kids want to take advantage of being up early, you better leave now!”

“Thanks Maman! See you at lunch.”

“Have a good day, you two!”

As they passed Tom in the bakery, he gave Marinette a kiss on the cheek, and rubbed Adrien’s head.

Then they leisurely made their way to school.

“Can I hold your hand?” Asked Adrien.

Marinette raised an eyebrow. “Have you asked me out?” She blinked. “Wait, that’s not what the argument was about, right? With your father?”

“No, no Marinette, he actually thinks you’re fine. We had a good talk before everything went down...but still, I got some other loose ends. Not yet, but soon. But, close friends who will soon be dating can hold hands, right?”

“Especially if they’re both having a rough time.”

“Yes, especially then.” He took her hand, and intertwined their fingers.

Marinette gave a happy hum and had an extra bounce in her step.

“You got happy all of a sudden,” Adrien commented.

“I’m holding Adrien’s hand! If you would have told last week Marinette about this, she wouldn’t have believed you.”

“Last week Marinette is missing out.” He grinned.

She squeezed his hand.

At school, they had just cleared the door before they heard Lila’s pathetic wailing.

“Now what?” They said in tandem.

Walking closer, they got let in on the story.

“—told me if I ever told anyone, I’d be fired! But I just couldn’t take it anymore! Not after what Marinette did to me yesterday! I told Gabriel exactly what Adrien did! And he didn’t believe me! He called me a liar and fired me!”

Marinette and Adrien shared a look.

“I knew this was going to happen.” He lamented.

“And then Marinette’s mother called mine and told her I deserved to be bullied! That I deserved to be molested!”

Looking around the group assembled, some had looks of horror, while others held looks of disbelief.

“Sabine said that?” Asked Alix, one of the doubters. “I...I can’t even imagine that.”

“It’s true! My mom talked to her and everything! We’re getting a lawyer.”

And then, Lila noticed Adrien and Marinette standing in the back of the crowd, listening.

And of course, Adrien never covered up his bruise.

“Look! Just look at him! That’s where I punched him after he groped me!”

All heads swiveled to look at Adrien, followed by a round of gasps.

“Dude...” Nino stared at him. “What happened to you?”

“I already told you, Nino!” Lila bawled. “He touched me! He’s a sex offender! Please, you have to believe me!”

Nino have a long sigh. “Dude. We were just talking yesterday about how he and Kagami were together. I really don’t want to be a victim denier, but this whole story seems really fishy.” He turned back to Adrien. “What really happened?”

Not deterred by Lila’s story, Adrien covered his face. “I had...a little disagreement with my father.”

“Oh yeah? What about?” Asked Kim.

Adrien winced. “It’s not really anyone’s business. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“A likely story!” Said Sabrina. “But Chloe said you’re a bad liar!”

Ivan cracked his knuckles. “If you touched her, you’ll be dealing with more than a black eye when I’m done with you.”

Marinette rested a hand on Ivan’s fist. “Adrien didn’t touch Lila. She’s been the one touching him. Adrien finally told his dad last night, and that’s why she was fired. I was there when he called his dad.”

Adrien appreciated Marinette stepping in. He was having a hard time staying calm.

But no reason to worry about becoming an Akuma!

“Funny how you claimed she was threatening you, when you were the one threatening her. Now you’re the one claiming she’s sexually harassing him? That’s so stupid, guys can’t be sexually harassed!” Kim spouted this nugget of wisdom, and Adrien trembled.

“How would you like it, if every goddamn day of your life you had to let some girl hang off of you, no matter how mean or cruel, no matter how uncomfortable. And you just had to smile about it?” Adrien grit out, with thinly veiled rage.

“I’d count myself lucky. As a male model, you get to be surrounded by hot chicks all the time! How is that a bad thing?”

“Because I don’t want them!” Adrien shouted. “I don’t want Lila, or Kagami, or Chloe! I don’t want Eva, or Annette, or Marlina! I just want—“

My Lady.

He screwed up his face, swallowing back his pain. He didn’t want to talk about last night. He didn’t want to tell his classmates. He only wanted to tell those he trusted. And that was a very small pool right now.

“My black eye is none of your business. I don’t want to talk about it. But it has nothing to do with Lila. Yes, I told my father I was being sexually harassed by her, and I asked if I could not model with her anymore. Given that she lied to get Marinette expelled, I had a feeling she would lie about me too. He made the decision to let her go.”

“I didn’t lie to get Marinette expelled!” Lila protested.

“But you admitted to having a lying disease! And you took back all those claims to get me back in school! Why should anyone believe you right now? How are you all not considering if this is a ‘side effect’ of her ‘disease’?!” Marinette protested.

For the first time since their arrival, Alya finally spoke up. “The coffee was cold yesterday.”

Everyone looked at her, somewhat put off by the seemingly random subject change.

“The coffee that Marinette spilled on Lila that gave her third degree burns. Marinette poured the rest of it on my hand. It was cold.”

Lila sat in silence.

“Well,” Alix spoke. “I don’t know who to believe anymore. And frankly, it’s none of my business, like Adrien said. I’m done with drama.”

“Yeah, me too.” Said Rose, sadly. “I just want us all to get along.”

“Like we did before Lila?” Nino asked.

“Nino!” Lila gaped at him. “It’s not my fault Marinette got jealous! That’s unfair!”

“Sure dude.” He shrugged.

Then, blessedly, the bell rang.

Marinette, Adrien, Nino, and Alya lingered behind as the rest of the class wandered to class.

“So,” Alya began, “If I can be totally honest, I’m torn. I do think Lila has...something wrong with her. Whether she has some illness that makes her lie, or she’s a narcissist? I don’t know. I don’t know if I believe she’s doing this on purpose either. She’s been so nice and so sweet. She’s babysat when you had to bail last minute. I feel like I’m between a rock and a hard place. I don’t want to pick sides.”

Marinette nodded. “I understand. It is difficult when you’re in between friends. Do you trust me, Alya?”

Alya screwed up her lips in a frown, considering the thought. Then she looked over to the boys.

Marinette touched her shoulder and directed her gaze back over. “Don’t look at them. Look inside yourself. Just be honest with me. You know I won’t get mad. Do you trust me?”

Alya glanced down to her shoes. “I want to, but...”

Marinette just watched her carefully.

“You bail a lot. You disappear, you give really flimsy excuses. You forget about things. Most of the class hasn’t picked up on it, but I know you lie to me sometimes. You’re allowed to have your secrets, and I know you aren’t trying to hurt me...I just...” she clenched her fists. “I don’t know.”

Alya was observant and a reporter at heart. Of course she’d pick up on this.

“Alya, you’re my best friend. I do have secrets, and one day, I’d love to tell you. But right now, it’s safer for you not to know.”

That didn’t really instill Alya with faith. “I guess that’s fair.”

“I don’t want your blind trust, Alya. All I want is for you to do your own critical thinking, and check your sources.”

Alya rolled her eyes. “So everything Lila says is a lie?”

“I didn’t say that. But if several things she says are untrue, maybe you should double check her claims. You know that the coffee yesterday was cold. And you know my mother would never tell someone they deserved to be bullied. She did call Lila’s mom yesterday. I don’t know what she said, but I know it came from a place of concern.”

“It comes down to integrity, Alya.” Said Adrien. “Sometimes people fail and lie, but their character should still speak for them. Do I seem like the kind of person that would grope a girl?”

Alya actually chuckled at that. “You are probably the least likely. You’re a literal ball of sunshine.”

“My mother taught me to be a gentleman at all times. Especially when I’m famous and working with women. If I was creepy and skeevy, no one would doubt if a woman made a claim against me. And by being kind and a gentlemen, it’s least likely that someone would lie like that to take advantage of me in the first place. Fake rape and molestation charges are something males in our industry face a lot. They ruin our reputation, and make it harder for real cases to get justice. It sucks.”

“So, you never touched Lila?”

“I only touched what I was instructed to during shoots, like her arm or her waist. Never any more than that. I have zero attraction to her. But like I said, she had touched me...not anything that would be considered molesting, but she grabbed my arm and rubbed my chest. She grabbed my butt once. I told my dad I didn’t like it, and I feared that she’d pull this exact scenario if I crossed her. After all, she lied to get Marinette expelled. The only reason she double lied to get her back in school was because I let her model with me in exchange.”

Alya frowned harder. “Lila’s behavior yesterday gave me some red flags. How she had outed Marinette’s crush like that...that was cruel. I don’t care what kind of beef you have with someone, that’s against the girl code. I just...need some time.”

Nino wrapped an arm around her. “Let’s go to class. Later, let’s take a look at some of her stories you put on the blog. We’ll make a threshold of deniability. If she’s exaggerating, we can let things go, but if there are straight lies, we have to consider if a friendship with her is worth it.”

Alya nodded, rubbing her eye. “Yeah. That sounds like a good idea.” She managed a smile for both Adrien and Marinette. “Is there a reason you’re matching today?”

They hadn’t even noticed.

“Comfort clothes.” They both said, then chuckled.

Miss Bustier came out of the teachers lounge. “What are kids doing out here still? If you can beat me to the classroom, I won’t mark you tardy!”

The four sprinted up to the classroom.

@redheadeddemon16 @sturchling @fleur-de-jasmin-fdj

[actionnerdgamerlove]

Do You Want Me Now - Chapter 25: Beach Week, Part One

Find it on AO3

Many, many thanks to @laughingatlivedragons for her help with this chapter - Geralt's past vacations couldn't have happened without you, my love!

“Hey Geralt,” Jaskier called from the living room, “Are you a beach person?”

She heard him hum as he came out of the upstairs bathroom. She’d heard the shower shut off, and was waiting for him at the foot of the stairs.

“This isn’t a show, Jask,” Geralt growled (without any real heat in it) as he walked down the stairs, shirtless, toweling off his hair. “Maybe I should start selling tickets,” he rolled his eyes as he said it, but he was secretly delighted. Anytime Jaskier was home and able to catch him showering, she’d wait for him to come out, just to see him without a shirt on. (She usually waited downstairs in the living room, or the kitchen; she didn’t just hover outside of the bathroom.) She never said anything; just looked at him – and it was always the same look. She looked at him like he was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. No one had ever looked at Geralt like that before; not even when he was married.

“I mean, I do pay rent; is this not an amenity that’s included?” Larkin laughed, but then turned serious. “Geralt, for real though, if I’m making you uncomfortable, say the word, and it won’t happen again.”

“It’s fine,” he said while rolling his eyes, fondly. “I just – I figured the novelty would have worn off after six plus months, y’know?”

“NOPE! The effect of your physical beauty is just too compelling; I am powerless to resist.” Jask threw her hand over her forehead dramatically, leaning back.

“So, before we got sidetracked with your weird fascination with me,” the teasing note in Geralt’s voice made Larkin beam. “What’d you ask me?” he ended by throwing his towel over her head, enjoying the squawk and sputtering noises coming from under the towel. It had taken him a while to get used to the fact that Larkin just…rolled with stuff like that. He watched her pull the towel off her head, then point upstairs, then downstairs, asking him if he wanted it back in the bathroom, or down in the laundry. Geralt pointed upstairs; he’d just gotten it out. She took the stairs two at a time, and presumably hung it up on his hook in the bathroom.

Huh, he thought. Geralt wasn’t sure what he was expecting when he draped her in his towel, but return towel service was not it.

Larkin noticed the bewildered look on his face when she came back downstairs. “’Tis but a small price to pay, for the simple joy of letting me ogle you,”

“You’re weird,” he told her. Because she was. But he really liked it.

“Yep!” Larkin walked over to the couch and sat down, pulling out her phone. “Oh, so. Do you like the beach? Are you a beach person?”

Geralt felt like this was a trick question. “Why?” he asked, suspicious.

“Why do I get the feeling you think I’m going to try to do something mean, Geralt? Relax, sir. A friend of mine just said I could use her beach house for the summer, that’s all. I wanted to know if you wanted to go sometime.”

This has to be a trick, he thought. Who just doesn’tuse a beach house during the summer?

“Why isn’t she gonna use it?”

“She’s going on tour, she won’t be around. Shame, too, she’s a lot of fun.”

“Who is it?” Geralt asked, still skeptical.

“Taylor Swift,” Larkin said, like it was NBD.

Fucking WHAT.

*****

[White Wolf 6:30 PM]: Taylor Swift is lending Jask her beach house for the summer and wanted to know if I wanted to go with her.

[Eskel 6:30 PM]: Wait a minute. Taylor Swift wanted to know if you wanted to go with Jask, or Jask wanted to know if you wanted to go with Jask?

[White Wolf 6:31 PM]: Jask wanted to know if I wanted to go.

[Lambert 6:32 PM]: WAIT BACKUP. TAYLOR SWIFT? This is a joke, right?

[White Wolf 6:33 PM]: No joke, I made Jask show me the texts. Jask has a bunch of photos of the two of them together, apparently Jask stayed there for like a month last summer, before we met.

[Lambert 6:34 PM]: OH MY GOD, SHE DID. She said she was staying at a friend’s! She never said it was fucking Taylor Swift!

[White Wolf 6:34 PM]: Question still stands.

[Lambert 6:35 PM]: What was the question? Is there a question? You’re going, right? Is that the question? Do you not want to go? Why wouldn’t you go?

[Eskel 6:35 PM]: Seriously, Geralt – why wouldn’t you go?

[White Wolf 6:36 PM]: What’re we gonna do?

[Eskel 6:36 PM]: What do you do here?

[White Wolf 6:37 PM]: Nothing. Hangout. Go running. Cook. Watch movies.

[Lambert 6:38 PM]: I still can’t see you being ‘chill’, she is a literal miracle worker. Anyhoo. Do all that. At the BEACH.

[Eskel 6:39 PM]: Yes. Please go. Jas is asking you to go on a vacation, Ger. When was the last time you went on a vacation?

[White Wolf 6:40 PM]: Yen.

[Lambert 6:40 PM]: DEAR GOD PLEASE GO. I guarantee that Jas does vacations VERY differently. There won’t be an agenda every day. I promise.

*****

Geralt’s last vacation had been…intense. He and Yennefer had gone to Amsterdam for two weeks and to Geralt it had been…a LOT. Cities weren’t necessarily his favorite place in general, but throw in almost a million inhabitants, drugs and hookers EVERYWHERE, the waterworks, a literal shitton of bicycles and the mix of posh and historic – there was NOTHIING relaxing about that vacation.

It wasn’t a vacation, it was a trip. Lambert wasn’t exaggerating – Yen had actually come up with a written agenda every day, thinking it would appeal to the control freak in Geralt.

It did not. It actually made Geralt even more anxious, because it made him feel like there was a scheduled timetable they had to keep. And when Yen would dawdle, and throw off the timing of the agenda-

You can see how this did not appeal to Geralt AT ALL.

In general, his marriage to Yennefer had been intense on a level that was unsustainable for them both (hence the divorce) and he knew, he knew Jaskier was nothing like Yen, and would therefore probably vacation very differently.

But he was still kind of freaking out about it.

*****

Larkin could tell something was bothering her beloved Wolf. She’d asked him about going to the beach, and he’d just…avoided the question. That…was not Geralt’s style, AT ALL. She’d mentioned it to Lauren, her therapist, and Lauren had suggested that perhaps Geralt had had a bad vacation experience, once upon a time.

Larkin hadn’t thought of that.

Armed with this potential realization, Larkin attempted to bring it up once more.

“Geralt, would it be ok if I talked to you about maybe going to the beach again?” She asked one night as they were clearing dinner dishes. She watched his shoulders tense up.

Oh boy, she thought.

“Sure,” Geralt said, sounding utterly defeated.

Ok, WHAT THE FUCK, thought Larkin. Who hurt my Wolf with a VACATION?

“Geralt,” she started, watching him load the dishwasher, back to her, obviously uncomfortable. “You know you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. I can’t make you go. You won’t hurt my feelings if you say no.”

Geralt turned to face her, over the open dishwasher trays. “No, it’s not – that’s not-“ he took a breath. “Why me?”

Larkin was puzzled. “I don’t understand the question. You’re like my favorite person; I love spending time with you. I thought it might be a nice break from the farm, and school? If it being just the two of us makes you uncomfortable, I can invite-“

“Why would it being just the two of us make me uncomfortable? We live together, just the two of us.”

“Ok, so it’s not me that’s the problem.” Larkin was glad to get that sorted out; she’d worried she’d freaked him out by asking him alone.

“Of course you’re not the problem – you’re never a problem, Jask.” Geralt was looking at Larkin like she were speaking moon-man language.

“Is there a problem? Do you…not like vacations?”

“No, Jas, it’s not-“ he sighed. Larkin watched him push a lock of hair out of his eyes. “My last vacation was…not fantastic. It was very…structured. There was a written daily agenda. It was like a two-week long bad day.”

“Geralt, I don’t mean to be smart, but are you sure that was a vacation? That sounds like an extra circle of hell, to me.”

“It was.”

“Ok. So, knowing that, that isn’t really what I had in mind? I mean, if there’s stuff we want to do, we can talk about it before hand, and I don’t really think we’d need to write it down, but if you wanted to, I guess we could? Like, I’m not sure you’d really need to write down “go for a run” or “let’s go fishing”?

“Fishing?” Geralt’s ears perked up at that.

“Yeah, there’s a bunch of fun stuff we could do, if you want. There’s hiking trails, fishing, I think Taylor’s leaving me her boat, so there’s that-“

“A BOAT?”

Geralt was fully invested now. He left the dishwasher wide open and came to sit next to Jaskier on a barstool at the kitchen island.

“I mean, she is Taylor Swift. It’s a pretty sweet boat.”

“You know how to use it?”

“Yes, Geralt. Former Viscountess, remember? I got that angle covered,” Larkin said, smiling. “If you want, I’ll send you the address, and the website for the town. You can see all the stuff they have going on, it’s a really nice place – both the house and the town.”

“It’s not a city?”

“Oh, Lord, no. This place is the definition of laid-back small town. Lemme ask you this – what are your concerns, other than an agenda driven nightmare of anti-relaxation?”

Geralt snorted. That was exactly what he was worried about. “Lotta people, crowds, feeling cornered.”

“Ok. Can you give me one second to get my laptop? I have some photos I think might help.”

Larkin waited for Geralt to nod, and she hopped up and grabbed her laptop from the living room. She flipped it into tablet mode, and opened a photo album titled “Taylor – Beach – 1st year”.

“Ok, so, this is going to seem silly, but she sent me a video tour of her house, because I was nervous before going the first time.”

“How many times have you been there?” Geralt asked, sounding insanely curious.

“Last year was my third year. She hasn’t really changed much with the house since she took this video.”

Larkin pressed play, and the video showed Taylor, in all her blonde “girl-next-door” glory, starting outside a really nice-looking tan-clapboard-sided ridiculously big beach house, that looked like it was in the middle of fucking nowhere. She walked around the paved drive, showing the marshland across the road from the house, then walked up to the house, up the big front entry stairway, into a foyer the size of their living room. She continued the tour through what seemed like five separate living rooms, a massively well-equipped kitchen, several different dining areas, the 97 bedrooms, the outdoor living areas on the deck outside, and then the little walkway out to the private beach. Taylor did a 360-degree spin on the beach. There were no neighbors.

All in all, the video was thirty minutes long. There was a lot of goofy, silly good-friend stuff throughout; Taylor made up songs about the different rooms, she essentially sang the tour to Jaskier. She ended it by saying “I love you; I can’t wait to see you. We’ll have fun. I promise.”

Geralt looked at Larkin with a look she couldn’t translate. “Did you guys…date?”

“Huh? Oh, that. No. I met her shortly after the fallout of the Countess bullshit. I was…not okay. She was really kind, and a really good friend. She’s still a really good friend. No, we didn’t date.” Larkin smiled at the fond memories the video brought back. It had been a really shitty time, and Taylor, and that beach house made everything a lot less shitty.

“What did you guys do?”

“We sang a lot, we laid on the beach, we took walks, we ate – boy, did we eat, I tell you what that girl can EAT, Geralt; you wouldn’t think it to look at her but GOODNESS. It was great.”

“Why was it great?”

“It was just nice to be able to see her being herself, like, instead of the person society says she is; she wanted to eat, so she did. I did a lot of cooking while I was with her, it was fantastic. We went to the boardwalk a couple times, but we had to kind of lay low, because she’s a BIG DEAL. She has an aunt in town, Aunt Karen, so mostly the townsfolk are real chill about her being there, but sometimes the tourists are the WORST. We went out on the boat, we went fishing, and we slept a lot. Sometimes on the boat, sometimes on the beach. We got really tan.”

“That house has a lot of bedrooms,”

“Doesn’t it? To this day I haven’t slept in them all; it’s my mission in life to do that. I feel like the house keeps gaining extra bedrooms, so it’s always one step ahead of me.” Larkin turned to Geralt. “So, that’s kind of the extent of the excitement. It’s definitelynot crowded, unless you bring people with you. There’s a soundproof music room, so that’s cool. I think you’ll like that feature,” Larkin said with a smile.

“Hey!” Geralt said, sounding somewhat offended. “That was like, one time. Ok, maybe more than one time. But not a lot of times!”

“I’m kidding, big guy. You have been so gracious about my constant noise making, really. I tease.” Larkin considered the man next to her. “You know, you still haven’t answered my original question – do you even like going to the beach?”

“The way you describe ‘beach time’ is not the way I’ve experienced beach time in the past. Your way sounds much more enjoyable.”

“Did you have agendas for beach time, too?” Larkin was horrified someone would desecrate beach time that way.

“Kind of. It wasn’t relaxing, let’s say.”

“Wow. So, it’s like this. You wake up in the morning and want to go hiking? We do that. I wake up and want to lie on the beach for a while, and you don’t? I lie on the beach and you do whatever you want to do. We want to do something together? We figure it out, and do it. If there is a specific something happening on a specific day, that we want to hit? We work it in. There’s like, sightseeing we could do, but it’s not like ‘going to the oldest European city EVER and needing to see every piece of every shard of something someone really old carried from one place to another’ kind of sightseeing. There are a couple nature preserves in the area, and a lot of really good places for nature photos.”

“This sounds too good to be true.”

“Right? I am ridiculously lucky to have such a good friend. I wish she wasn’t going on tour for so long, I think you’d really like her. She’s super goofy, she’s a lot of fun.”

“What’s Renfri think of her?”

“Renfri LOVES HER. She gets heart eyes the entire time Taylor is anywhere in the vicinity. It’s hysterical.”

“Are they…a thing?”

“I’ve never asked, and neither of them has ever said. Taylor deserves privacy. I want them both to be happy. If that’s with each other, then I know they’ll have a good time.”

“So wait. You said she gave you this house for the summer – are you going to be there ALL summer?” Geralt asked. Larkin thought he sounded panicky.

“I, uh, hadn’t really thought about it. I still plan on paying rent, Geralt, it’s not like I’m moving out or anything,”

“I wasn’t worried about the rent, Lark,” Geralt said, making a face at her.

“Then what are you worried about?” Larkin asked, giving Geralt a concerned look.

“Three months is just…a long time,”

Larkin thought that wasn’t exactly what Geralt wanted to say. Larkin was pretty sure she heard “I’ll miss you,” instead. Now it was her turn to hum.

“Well, I don’t think I’ll be there for three months straight, for sure. I do think I want to go before Taylor leaves, so I can see her for a couple days before she’s gone, and I’d like to spend some time with you there, and I think I want to get my brother and sister there for a couple days, too; obviously you’re welcome for that, if you want. They love you, they’d love to see you. Other than that, I don’t really have any ‘must-do’s’ other than maybe having everyone there at the same time? Do you think Eskel and Lambert would want to come? And Aiden? And maybe Triss?”

Yes, Geralt thought. But do I want them to come, is the question.

“What about Renfri?” he said instead, noticing that she hadn’t mentioned her best friend.

“Oh, obviously Renfri would be invited at some point. But she’s already gone with me before. I’ll talk to you before I go, Geralt, it’s not like I’m just gonna up and leave without saying anything,” she paused. “And hopefully, you’d be willing to come with me, at least once,”

“Lemme think about it. I see my therapist tomorrow, I want to talk to him first. I’m serious, Larkin, I really will think about it. I do want to go, it’s just – beforetimes.

“Beforetimes.” She nodded, sadly. Larkin knew exactly what he meant.

*****

Geralt was almost able to predict exactly what Frank, his therapist, was going to say.

“So, let’s break this down. You’re afraid of two things. You’re afraid of going on vacation because vacations with Yennefer were not enjoyable for you, and you’re afraid future vacations will also be not enjoyable. But you’re also afraid of Larkin being away for an extended amount of time. Are those both accurate statements?”

“Yes.” Geralt wanted to argue about the use of the word ‘afraid’ but knew it was pointless because he was, in fact, afraid.

“Let’s start with the overall vacation idea, because I think that one might be a little easier to navigate.”

“Not every vacation is going to be like a Yennefer vacation.”

“You’re getting pretty good at this, maybe we should switch chairs,” Frank said, making Geralt smirk. He really liked his therapist. He’d been seeing Frank for four years; Frank had taken over when his last therapist had retired. He’d liked his last therapist, too; he’d gotten pretty lucky that way. Frank was real. He used examples from real life to illustrate and make parallels. He understood PTSD. He understood Geralt’s limits, and didn’t push – too hard. He called Geralt on his bullshit, in a gentle and professional way. He was a really good therapist.

“You said Larkin gave you an idea of what vacationing at this specific location, specifically with her, would be like. Correct?”

“Yes.”

“And what did she make it sound like?”

“Perfect.”

“Ok. Do you trust Larkin?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because she’s honest. Because she’s down to Earth. Because she cares about me.”

“Do you think anything she said about this beach house, or spending time with her there, is made up, or embellished?”

“No, I don’t.”

“I gotta tell you, I’m really skeptical that she knows Taylor Swift.”

“I’m telling you, Frank, I saw the video. Taylor Swift made Jas a half an hour video five years ago singing her way through this fucking humongous gorgeous beach house. She used Jaskier’s name several times in the video. She told Jas she loved her at the end of it. There are pictures of the two of them together at this house, and other places. Jas has text messages on her phone from her.”

“Well, those could just be made up,”

“Frank. I know you googled Larkin. She’s not making this up. If anything, the HOUSE is made up, but it’s not, because there are pictures of her and Renfri, and Taylor Swift all on the couches and at tables together.”

“You have a fascinating roommate.”

“Yep.”

“Back to the vacation idea. So. How certain are you that Jaskier is telling the truth about the laid-back beach vacation of which she speaks?”

“99.9% certain.”

“And the .1%?”

“It sounds too good to be true.”

“Face it, Geralt, a lot of Jaskier sounds too good to be true, but it isn’t, because you’ve lived with her now for what, over six months?”

“Yep.”

“And there are parts of Jaskier that are NOT too good to be true, correct?” Frank asked, giving Geralt A LOOK.

“Yes.”

“But you still like living with her?”

“I do.”

“I think that brings us to our second point.”

“Joy.”

“Geralt. You knew we’d get here eventually. So. You don’t like the idea of Jaskier being gone for three months straight. How come?”

“I just…don’t want her to be gone that long. That’s a long time.”

“Ok, Geralt, I feel that it is my place to remind you that you’re safe here, you know that, and it’s ok to have feelings, here and everywhere else. Care to delve in to that last bit a little deeper?”

“I’ll miss her.”

“There you go.” Frank paused. “Ok, I’m going to ask, and I won’t push about this one. Why will you miss her?”

Geralt sighed. Yep, he thought. This is the problem.

“I love her.”

“Oh, shit!” Frank exclaimed, his face a mask of surprise. Geralt had never actually seen Frank look really, actually surprised. “I honestly thought that one was gonna take longer.”

Geralt just stared at him.

“Oh, come on, Geralt. I am not your brothers; I’m not going to bust your balls over this but even still. It has been obvious to me for quite a while, and especially since that fucking wedding what the actual fuck is wrong with her family- I apologize. That was inappropriate. Accurate, but inappropriate. Anyway. It’s been fairly obvious for quite a while that you care about her deeply. That’s all I’m gonna say. You pay me to notice things. So I noticed. Mazel Tov, man. For what it’s worth, from what you’ve told me about her, you guys are a very good fit. You’ve both dealt with some really serious shit together in the time you’ve known one another, and you’ve handled it well, both separately, and together. So, good luck, if you decide to move things in a more romantic direction. In my nonprofessional opinion, I think that will be received very well.”

“Oh. Thank you.” Geralt was feeling kind of bewildered, both from admitting OUT LOUD that he loved his roommate in the ‘Yeah, I’d kind of like to get married to you,’ way; but also that his therapist already knew about it, and thought his chances of success were high.

[calypsoff]

Fifty Nine.

We have been keeping very low-key I mean very low-key, quiet from everything and all social media. At the same time having to take Chris’ mind off the prospect of Jail time, Barry is nowhere to be found now so the paying off scenario isn’t going to work so now we’re left with going to court, which a date has come very quick and I’m actually shocked but I’m sure it’s because Chris isn’t just anyone anymore but anyways, they have given him a date. The lawyer is asking for community service, like we can at least get that for him. It’s just crazy how they got it so quick but then they have the CCTV also which makes it bad, I’m just hoping for a miracle at this moment in time. I’m trying to not worry and enjoying my pregnancy, I thought while Chris is just feeling sad for himself I would help him with his clothing line and off my own back just designed a few things, not sure if he wants it or whatever but I’m trying because he isn’t doing anything, so I am making him do things. Like going to VA, I said to him before I get even bigger we need to go so I think we are going today to VA with more than one bodyguard, I ain’t about to play with fire in that place. Even though I love VA, it’s so peaceful there but I have to be careful, I don’t take threats lightly, not at all. We would like to have stayed with my in-laws, but I don’t feel safe for Chris to be there, we will stay outside of VA and they can visit us but we should be going today, I say should because I’ve not said it again to him. It’s a mess but we can deal with it, I know we can so I’m not trying to stress myself out too much. Chris will be with me; he will be seeing our baby be born. I am putting it into existence, god gave me him back now he can protect him from this evil. My mother said she’s praying for him, I told her what happened and she’s so sad for him. Joyce and Clinton don’t know as of yet, also this time in VA we can spend time together, Mel has gone to Barbados to clear her mind so it’s just us in this home currently. It’s pretty lonely, I’m used to my team being around.

I knew Chris would be in the office, he’s smiling so that is a good sign “I am excited for this actually, I needed some positive energy and seeing the website is what I needed. I cannot wait for this, I really can’t. Which brings me into my wife was helping me, nothing would have happened if it weren’t for Rihanna she inspires me a lot because her work ethic and she’s happily said she will be along with the idea, she will design some exclusive stuff, just limited edition things which will bring my traffic. I wasn’t for it but she’s helping me, so we have that. But she is the one to inspire me, we will need to discuss an opening and maybe some party I don’t know yet” my smile grew hearing him say that I wonder if he knows I am here “I still think we should do the Nobodies business tee, mention that. Fans love merch” TJ is on this, Chris must have kept him “he’s right Chris, personally. If you had Rihanna on a tee I’m buying. I love her so yeah” Chris chuckled “see what she says, but I have to go. We will discuss and have an update, but Cena is making moves, we doing good team. God bless and take care, speak soon” Chris grinned waving, nice to see him happy. He turned his chair to me “speaking nice things about me because you knew I was here huh” Chris grinned and closed his laptop “I suppose, I was like let me get in her good books” walking over to Chris “you are in my good books, sometimes” walking around his desk “you have taken over this, I like it. You all busy now, you been in meetings all that time” sitting on his lap “yes, they sent me pictures of the website. It’s amazing” placing my arm around his neck, Chris pressed a kiss to my side boob “thanks, good. TJ still with us? He’s not going to change next is he?” Chris shook his head “he cut ties with him too, Maybe Mel chose the wrong one, TJ is dumb but he’s good” Chris placed his hand over my bump “as long as he is working then good, so you ready to go to VA yeah? You didn’t really say yes you just shrugged, we go and get your family nice and safe with a new home?” I get such a tingly feeling, my heart flutters when he touches my bump, my whole heart right here “I just thought you might say it to make me feel better but if we are going then yes, let’s go” i cooed out “rules are, we taking my bodyguards and we staying away from your parents, they come to us. Also we can have some time together” pressing a kiss to the top of his head “cool, man. I always wanted to buy my parents a house, a dream come true” least this will make him happy.

I rather he let me pack but no, he is helping and his helping is rushing to pack “your bump is super cute by the way, I admire it. Like our baby just in there baking and shit, just vibing. It’s probably dancing in there, but your bump is cute. We going to do pictures? Like memory type shit” he asked me “wow, Christopher. Baby. You asking me? Putting me to shame now, yes we will. Don’t worry, I am planning on that, we going to have some cute pictures like our wedding ones were super cute, awww god I love you so much” Chris laughed and then got shy “man, I’m in love. I’ll beat a nigga ass for you and do time, you my twin. And my best friend, why do I need others when I got you” he is my whole heart “poppa I love you too” poking my lips out, he pressed a kiss to my lips. I laughed as he moved back, reaching my hand up and wiping my lipgloss from his lips “my bad” hearing the buzzer go off “I’ll get that, just finish off here for me” he makes me laugh because I been doing that, I have been fixing what he’s been doing. I’m so in love with him, I am and it’s sickening but I love him. I’m actually hoping to visit Barbados before I have the baby, I’m just thinking how we can do that. I want to see my family and relax a little bit, get some sun and peace. California just can be so messy at times; I just want that break with him. I’m sure I can fit it in, folding his sweatshirt. Bringing it up to my nose to smell it before placing it in the case, smells like him. This is my drug; his clothes be just turning me on. I don’t think we need to pack heavy, buying the home should be easy, I guess a few days there is nice and then come back. Start some rehearsals for the Grammys, Things are different meaning baby, so I want to make sure my breathing and singing hasn’t changed so I need to start on that.

Chris came upstairs with a box “oh what is that?” I think I know what it is, he asked for some freebies as a joke with Puma well I got that for him “I don’t know, it says my name. Actually it says Christopher Fenty-Brown is this a joke?” I sniggered “you my bitch, shut up” he looks so offended “but I’m not Fenty” he’s so annoying “look just stop and open it” Chris looked up at me from the floor “you know what it is?” I shrugged “no, I told you that people think you’re my bitch, look at you on the floor on your knees too” Chris shook his head laughing “my birthday isn’t yet, but this is exciting” he is so adorable, it’s like Christmas for him right now, he is so very appreciative too “what does this say” he grabbed the little note card in the box “To Chris, please try our new releases from the Puma team. Oh shit, really!?” I grinned at him “yes, you got some free stuff poppa, now you play with that while I pack” that will keep him entertained “thank you so much Robyn, oh god. You did this for me!” Waving him off “don’t be, it’s just the start” making my way to the bathroom, I adore him so much with everything he does for me. He is so supportive of me too.

So we have three bodyguards now, I didn’t want them to stay at the place we are renting there but I rather they do stay, you never know but I have Rich, Frank and Ben now with us. I guess they both can go out and come back at night or maybe I should ask “Rich, so what do you think to one of you staying with us and the rest go like to a hotel, look I sound dramatic, and he is in jail but you never know and I want to be safe so what to do you think?” let’s see what he says about it, if he thinks only one of them needs to stay then so be it, I feel like three of them is a but much “one will be ok, shall I stay with you?” nodding my head “and besides, no offence but Chris knows Rich more then you both” I said, I thought I would mention that he stays because Chris does get along with him, Chris is just sat here in Puma. He is loving the fact that he had these freebies, I love that he is so appreciative about it too, he is cute “so did you pack all of your Puma things?” I had to ask “kind of, I tod my mom an dad where we are staying, I just want to see them” nodding my head, not like I mind “it has been a while since I last seen my second mother so why not, is she staying over?” Chris shrugged, so he doesn’t know so I guess I will ask them to stay over.

I snorted laughing and so did Chris “are we on a plantation?” Chris said the same thing I thought “I feel like it is, Tina is racist. That bitch” I laughed shaking my head, the home is nice and it’s like in the middle of nowhere, but I swear it looks like a plantation “well I guess we going to be some hillbillies, I think you will be a cute one too actually” reaching over and stroking the side of his face “no way, oh shit. The owners are white too, my god. Tina set us up?” Chris cackled; the car came to a halt “if this is a set up I am cutting” Rich said before getting out of the car “you going to do the extra cotton picking for me? I am with child so I can’t” Chris side eyed me, the door opened, and I got out. The owners looks kind but creepy kind of people, I sighed out as the white guy made his way over to me “welcome Robyn, so good to meet you” oh no, I think they are fans, well the way his daughter his staring at me is not good “pleasure is all mine, I love your home” shaking his hand “well I hope you enjoy it, as advised. The keys” he held the keys up to me, taking the keys from him “is there anything we need to do?” I questioned, you never know what I can or can’t do at the home “not at all, the home is yours to use and have fun. Thank you for choosing us” this guy is sweet after being judgemental about him.

Joyce and Clinton are both here, I have a back pain again so I needed to sit down but let me go to see the in-laws, making my way to the door “my baby, Robyn!” Joyce spat, making my way to Joyce “oh my god” Joyce placed her hands over her mouth staring at me in shock, all emotional “Robyn, oh my gosh. You look so beautiful, come here” hugging Joyce close “oh momma, it is so good to see you. Honestly” closing my eyes smiling, it’s so good to have a motherly hug like this “I am over the moon that you are pregnant, my second grandchild” moving back from the hug “I can’t wait to meet her or him, whatever it may be. You see the scan photos? The little wave” Joyce gasped “yes, Clinton loves that picture so much” looking over at Chris, I didn’t expect him to be emotional, but my poppa is crying “awww baby, we missed you so much. Welcome home Chris” Joyce rushed over to her son “wow, you are pregnant” Clinton pointed out the obvious “yes, do I look that big?” I am questioning it now “no, not at all just it’s different. How are you?” Clinton asked “erm, ok thank you. Chris is emotional” I pointed out “yeah, he just needed a hug from the big man” clearly he did need that “he misses you both so much” my baby is so sad.

[anony-mony-moose]

Let’s Stay Together - Izzy Stradlin x Reader (Part 2)

Y/N starts her new job, agrees that Izzy’s water is hot, and narrowly dodges an interrogation from Duff

warnings for swearing, mentions of drug use, and very mild Duff abuse (specifically his toe)

also on ao3 :)

------------------------------------------------

“First off, you gotta be able to clean dishes.”

“Oh don’t worry about that.” I delivered my most charming smile. “I’m a dab hand when it comes to soap and water, Angus.”

Izzy huffed quietly in amusement as he set down a chopping board, and I had to work to keep the pleasant expression on my face.

“I don’t doubt it, Y/N/N.” Angus replied jovially, eyes twinkling under his undulating brow. “Only other condition is I have to like you enough to be around you five days a week.”

I bit my lip and sighed dramatically. “Shit, well if it’s not meant to be... Where’s my coat?”

He belted out a laugh and strode further into the kitchen, slapping my back (and politely ignoring the way I jumped about a foot in the air).

“Come on, we gotta get you set up before the orders start. It’ll get real busy soon. You wouldn’t think so, on a Thursday afternoon...” He continued as he led me to the sinks at the back, marching past Izzy who shot me a wink and laughed silently at the mock-bewildered face I pulled.

There isn’t much you can explain about washing up, further than pointing to a sink and then some dishes, but Angus gave it a shot anyway, doling out helpful tips like, “This one’s the cold tap, that one’s hot. Be careful, alright? The hot water is pretty damn hot.” Eventually, mercifully, his commentary ran dry and he bustled over to dice veg with Izzy at one of the counters. A few hours passed with me scrubbing my way through various pots and pans, occasionally enjoying Angus’ happy chatter about this and that whenever service calmed down. He had something to say about just about everything, that man.

Although you wouldn’t know it from the way he spoke, Angus Walker was only in his early thirties. Smoking one too many packs a day for about ten too many years had reduced his voice to a low scratchy rumble, and it matched perfectly with the strange little rambling tales he liked to share. His funniest kitchen war stories usually centred around his time starting out in Chicago. They were also evidently his favourites to tell - he’d get properly invested, slipping into thickly accented voices for each character. The way he reminisced, you’d think he was referring to things that took place fifty years ago.

Although not especially close, we’d been familiar since I first arrived in LA. Of course, since Izzy got the job doing food prep for him at Andrea’s, we bumped into quite regularly - it was usually Angus who answered the back door, and he was very generous with Izzy’s smoke breaks whenever I came calling. Weirdly enough though, Duff had also previously worked for him at a bakery, which was conveniently only ten minutes up the road from the call centre I was temping at at the time (another job which bit the dust pretty fast). I used to pop by everyday over my lunch hour to chat with all the staff in the break room. Duff made a habit of stuffing my pockets on my way out with all the goods that didn’t survive the ovens, constantly trying to feed me up, and even back then Angus would always turn a blind eye.

All round, he was just a really nice bloke. Didn’t half harp on though, I mused, tuning in to follow the end of a lengthy discussion about the guy I’d replaced.

“Damn sight better to have you on the team, anyway.” He concluded, pottering away to rummage around for something in the walk-in. I turned and caught a knowing smirk from Izzy.

“Comin’ out for a smoke?” He asked, jerking his head towards the door.

I nodded and swivelled round to check with Angus.

“Sure honey, take all the time you need! I’ll hold down the fort over here!” He hollered in reply and I stifled a small laugh. I had a feeling he was just grateful for a new, even marginally more responsive ear to chew off as he worked - Izzy could be an absolute brick wall when he set his mind to it.

We stepped outside into a light drizzle and the man in question burst into laughter, ducking with a delighted grin as I clouted him round the back of the head.

“You are a such a fuckin’ flirt!” He wheezed, only spurred on by my unsuccessful attempts to look unamused. His shoulders shook as he plucked a crumpled pack of Marlboro’s from his back pocket, still chuckling as he passed one to me.

“Angus doesn’t mind.” I mumbled, glancing away to hide my smirk. 

He cackled again. “No, he fuckin’ doesn’t.”

Our elbows knocked together, a short fit of giggles escaped me before I could properly stamp it down. My voice trembled when I replied, “My skills really are wasted on this shit, huh?”

All it took was a glance and we both devolved into hysterics again.

You could probably forgive us for feeling a bit crazed that afternoon. Neither of us had got even a glimpse of sleep, having been kept up all night by Slash and a steady supply of pills from his various pockets; the man really did have everything stashed away in there. The day had broken and morning was well on it’s way to noon when Slash finally left to restock, Izzy and I tagging along just for something to do. I didn’t have much memory of our bleary walk around town to find a dealer, apart from a single clear image of the cold, grey sunlight dancing over Izzy’s face. A little weird, granted, but I figured that could be easily blamed on the pills.

It was a bit of a miracle that we actually to made it to Andrea’s on time. It was even more of a miracle that we weren’t just turned away in our bedraggled state. Getting a good look now we were outside, Izzy still looked objectively awful, with big red rings shadowing his eyes and a slightly twitchy quality to all his movements. An unruly part of my brain helpfully reminded me that despite this, he was still extremely attractive. Another, more unruly part suggested that, yes, I definitely still wanted to shag him like this, and hey presto, now I was imagining him pinning me against that metal door and fucking those hangover jitters out of me. Christ.

No sleep, an ever-intensifying comedown, and an incorrigible imagination – the real miracle would be surviving to the end of this shift.

*****

“Sheena is-“ The words garbled as I dunked my head back under the showerhead to rinse. “A punk rocker, no-o-o-o-ow!” My feet slipped a little, stumbling over an empty beer can which floated above the drain, and I splashed my face to wash off the soapy water, still singing cheerily. “She’s a punk, punk,” I climbed out of the tub to snatch up the towel from the floor, (“A punk rocker!”) giving myself a quick once over  (“Punk, punk-“) before hitching it up around me. (“A punk rocker-er!”) I shook my hair out enthusiastically and immediately winced as that stubborn hungover headache clattered around my skull again like an enraged bull, battering away at my temples. I could hardly wait to meet the guys and get a drink inside me, if only to get rid of the incessant pounding in my head.

I plugged on determinedly with the song, neatly bringing the chorus to an end as I left the bathroom (spoiler: she is still definitely a punk rocker). A wry grin was leering at me from the other side of the door.

“Is she now?”

I hid a smile and squeezed some more water out of my hair as I pushed past to search out some clothes.

“Yeah, weren’t you listenin’? I thought me and Joey made it pretty clear.”

A loud thunk sounded from the window. He brushed behind me to answer it, hand flitting over my bare shoulder briefly, and I swallowed as I sifted haphazardly through the accumulated rubbish on the floor for my skirt. I sighed, standing up to ask Izzy if he remembered where we’d lobbed it before, and the unkempt stranger outside jeered suddenly. How he had the energy, I had no idea. The sheen of sweat on his forehead hinted at a pretty nasty case of dopesickness – after all, that was why he’d come knocking.

“Shit, Stradlin, what else you got hidin’ in there?” My nose scrunched up in irritation, any sympathy vanishing instantly, but Izzy beat me to it.

“Fuck off.” He hissed and reached out to give him a harsh shove, and the man stumbled backwards, startled.

“Jeez, man, I was j-“ The window slammed shut in his face and he gawked through the dirty glass for a second before dashing off into the alley, probably remembering the fresh dose of smack in his hand. Izzy lingered, glowering at his retreating back. On second thoughts, maybe it was the glower that sent him running.

“Um, have you seen-“ I began as he turned and said, “I should’ve beat his fuckin’ ass for that. Sorry.”

I blinked, taken aback by the ferocity in his tone. “It’s fine, Iz.” He eyed me dubiously. “Really. I would’ve said the same thing, I mean-“ I flounced a hand across my body, adopting a terrible imitation of a Californian drawl, “Have you seen this bod?”

He snorted and produced my lost mini-skirt from somewhere in his unmade bed, offering it to me as he changed the subject abruptly.

“How was my shower?”

“Uh... Functional?” That was… An oddly pointed question. “I’m clean as a whistle now, so…” I yanked a pair of tights up over my arse and stepped into the skirt.

“Hot enough for you?”

So that was what he was getting at. I smirked drily and rolled my eyes as I clipped up my bra. “Put Nicky’s to shame.”

“Good to hear.” He handed me a dark blue shirt and watched me slip it on with a smirk to match mine. “You ready to head out?”

I glanced up, pausing my buttoning, to raise an eyebrow. “Feelin’ impatient, Izzy?”

His hands covered mine to fasten the last few buttons up to my chest, surely feeling the way my heartbeat revved up a little in anticipation. He dipped his head, just enough to lock eyes with me, that wicked smirk still firmly in place, and practically purred, “Always.”

*****

“Y/L/N!”

Duff waved me down as he left his apartment block, leaping out into the road and racing over to meet me outside Izzy’s building, barely avoiding a motorbike as it whizzed past.

“Hey, man.” His grin was infectious, bright even in the persistent spitting rain, and it managed to take some of the bite from my grumbling reply.

“You’re a bit chipper for this time in the afternoon, aren’t you?”

“You left very early last night.” No time to waste on small talk, apparently.

I started walking purposefully in the direction of the Strip, not sparing him a glance as he plodded along beside me. I didn’t have to see his face to know that there was still a teasing grin plastered all over it.

“You weren’t the only one.”

“I wasn’t?”

He raised his eyebrows, almost managing to keep a serious expression.

I bit down a giddy smile (Jesus, where was that coming from?) and dug my hands into the pockets of Izzy’s coat. “Piss off, Duff.”

“I didn’t even say anything!”

I narrowed my eyes at him pointedly, (yep, there was the grin) and stopped to help shield him from the wind as he lit a cigarette. He repeated it and passed one to me.

“Cheers.” We strode on, my hair whipping and snapping around me like a whirlwind. I huddled further into the leather, firmly ignoring the unmistakeably Izzy scent that was ingrained in the collar, and the heat it sparked inside me.

“Gee, that’s a nice jacket you’re wearing.” Duff continued gleefully, a generous helping of sarcasm injected into his voice. I sighed and shook my head in exasperation. “Now where have I seen it before?”

I shot him an amused look. “What’s up, McKagan?”

“Who, me? Ohhh, nothin’ at all, zilch. Just makin’ a couple of observations, that’s all.”

“Sure about that?”

“Totally.” He paused as I dodged a frenzied woman in a pantsuit. “So many different things to observe, don’t you think?”

I snorted. “I don’t know, Duff, but I bet you’re gonna tell me.”

“You and Izzy disappear together last night, now you’re wearin’ his clothes this morning,” I checked, a little alarmed to find that I actually was wearing his shirt again today, while Duff threw his hands up in the air. “God, what could it all mean?”

I spluttered, laughing, and ducked under the awning of the liquor store to take one last drag of smoke before heading in. Of course, he followed me.

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” The change rattled in my hand as I scoured the shelf in front of me, hardly paying attention to Duff swanning around on the side of the aisle.

“I’m just sayin’,” He called, “If I didn’t know better I’d say you two were gettin’ pretty cosy.”

I rolled my eyes and grabbed another cheap bottle of rum, sidling past him to deposit everything at the checkout.

“Hey Al, how’s it goin’?” I sighed, counting out the last of my quarters on the tabletop.

“He givin’ you trouble, sweetheart?” He nodded gruffly over my head at the giant blonde softie behind me, currently inspecting the label of a bottle of red wine.

I laughed, trying to imagine what Duff might look like to an untrained eye. He could be pretty scary when he needed to, after all. “No, he’s fine.”

“What’s goin’ on?” Duff’s hands landed on my shoulders and I flinched a little despite myself.

“If you’re sure.” Al muttered under his breath, patiently divvying up my assortment of coins and dollar bills. “You got another fifty cents, honey?”

I winced. That was all the cash I had. Duff’s touch disappeared from my shoulders to delve into his jean pockets, rooting around hastily.

“Sorry man, that’s all I got. I’ll leave the-“

“No, no, don’t be silly. Owe me it, alright?”

“But hey, I have-“ I silenced Duff with a light stomp on his toe.

“Thanks mate, I really appreciate it.” I gathered up the bottles under my arm, promising to be back with the remainder soon.

“Hey, forget it Y/N. Tell you what, keep that fifty. Buy some fuckin’ breakfast next time, okay?”

I snickered and waved as we turned to leave. “Will do! See you later!”

The bell above the door jingled chirpily as we left and Duff paused to spark another couple of cigarettes for us before stepping back out into the street. I frowned as he continued back the way we’d just come. He hadn’t really just left his apartment to follow me to the shop, had he?

“Are you goin’ home?”

“Nah, I’m late for work.” He said, looking remarkably unfazed.

“Shouldn’t you be walkin’ the other way, then?”

“I’ll walk you back first.” I opened my mouth to protest but he forged ahead before I could. “Didn’t get to the bottom of my observations yet.”

I sighed and waited for him to continue, but he stayed quiet instead, even when Izzy’s building came back into sight.

“What do you want me to say?” I said finally. “I thought everybody knew already, we fuck now and then. It’s not exactly big news.”

We stopped outside the door and I puffed away the last few tokes of my cigarette as I waited for him to reply. He was smiling fondly at me, and I found it infuriating for some reason.

“And you’re sure it’s just sex?”

“Uh, yeah.” I frowned. “Is that not what I said?” 

He was still smiling and appearing quite entertained by my confusion, and I shook him off, wrinkling my nose, when he reached down to ruffle my hair. 

“You know, you’re a real dumbass, Y/N/N.”

I scowled. “Yes, thanks, I did know that.”

He rocked back on his heels to fix me with a calculating stare.

“What does Izzy think?” He said carefully. Huh? 

“What the fuck d’you mean, what does-”

“Shit!” Duff blurted, eyes widening comically. “I gotta get to work!” He turned on his heel and started sprinting back into town, shouldering through the midday stragglers and throwing out frantic apologies as he barged past people. In the space of about ten seconds, he was gone, flying out of view round the corner with a final shout of “Come see me when you get your head outta your ass!”

I stood there, dumbfounded. What the hell did he mean by that?

Curiously enough, he wasn’t the only one who’d suggested… Well, whatever it was he’d been trying to suggest. Axl had pulled me aside when we were out the night before last, bellowing in my ear that he was happy for me and Iz, of all things. If that wasn’t unsettling enough, him and Slash had taken to calling Izzy’s apartment ‘the love nest’ since I’d started hanging around there constantly, bedding down with Izzy every single night this week - as if I needed a reminder. I spent more time there than I did anywhere else at the moment, and it was getting a bit ridiculous. I’d been offered a roof to crash under for one night, and here I was, a week later, making myself a permanent fixture. He hadn’t mentioned it yet though, which seemed kind of unusual for someone normally so blunt.

I was still lost in thought as I twisted the cap off one of the bottles and gulped down a bolstering mouthful of whisky, trudging into the hallway to rap on Izzy’s door. The whole thing was very weird, I decided, screwing the cap back on. Very weird, indeed. And here I was, returning again. Bloody hell, what a disaster.

But then the door swung open, and I was greeted with a greedy kiss, emitting a pleased (if a little surprised) moan. Izzy was just as gloriously naked as I’d left him, with keen hands pulling me inside and pushing me up against the back of the door to kiss the breath out of me, already stripping me of his jacket and depositing it in a heap on the floor next to the booze.

“You were gone a long time.” He gasped, somehow still managing an air of nonchalance, even as he tore my (his) shirt up over my head. I wriggled out of it and launched myself back into his embrace, pressing up for another filthy kiss. His hands carded through my damp hair, and he broke away panting, confused. “It’s rainin’?”

I huffed, laughing a little, and dragged him with me towards the bed. “You wanna talk about the weather right now?”

His mouth stretched out to form a grin, and crashed back into mine - and all thoughts of Duff and his oddly foreboding questions swiftly evaporated.

[whitewallwhispers]

Little Lies

Narcos - Javier Peña - Series

Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Part Six - Part Seven - Part Eight - Part Nine

A young writer moves to Colombia to perform research on the drug war for her latest novel. She’s willing to do anything for information, which leads her down a rabbit hole that begins to blur the line between pretending to be someone and becoming something she might not be ready for.

Her latest target is a D.E.A. Agent named Javier Peña. And things are getting complicated.

Warnings: Brief descriptions of violence, descriptions of blood and bodily injury, mention of guns, strong language (pretty much every expletive under the sun).

Author’s Note: This is a little different than the rest of the series, hope you guys don’t mind the switch-up!

Tag List: @fanfiction-trashpile

Every single breath felt like a knife to her chest. She could practically feel her ribs rattling against her lungs with each step, but her main focus was fighting the way her vision was growing narrower and narrower by the second.

Only a few more blocks left. She turned a sharp corner to move through a back way. A shortcut. Dimly lit, probably a bad idea at any other time, but she needed to get home as quickly as possible. She felt another drop of blood fall from her chin and hastily tried to wipe it up with her forearm, but it was already so caked in dried blood it probably just smeared it around and made it worse.

Her right eye was throbbing, surely swollen, surely blackening by the minute.

She’d gotten too cocky.

She’d asked too blatant of a question.

Now she’d have to find another cartel contact, because she was sure the next time she saw Manuel he’d be giving her a bullet, not his fists.

Without warning, her feet went out from under her and she crashed into the ground, barely catching herself in time before her face could slam into the pavement. If her chest hurt before, it was nothing compared to now. She coughed weakly and blood splattered the ground in front of her.

It probably took her a full minute to stand up again, but it was hard to tell because her vision went in and out and she lost all sense of herself more than once. She walked as quickly as she could without screaming out in pain - which was very, very slowly.

It seemed like a miracle when she finally reached her own street.

But it turned to a nightmare when she made out the hazy silhouette of a man leaning against the door to her apartment building.

Fuck.

Had Manuel somehow figured out where she lived?

Was he here to finish her off?

Or was it one of his friends, or…or?

Whatever the answer, it was too much for her to process in her current state. She felt the ground go out beneath her as she stumbled back and slammed into the building behind her, sliding down to the dirt as her vision finally slipped entirely into nothingness.

“Holy fuck.” The voice was both familiar and frantic. “Can you hear me?”

There were hands hurriedly brushing over her face, fingertips grazing over her eyes and lips. No matter how gently, it still hurt. For one hazy moment she had no idea where she was or what was happening.

But then it all came back to her at once.

She was in danger.

Her eyes flew open to find someone crouching over her.

“Please don’t kill me,” she croaked.

Pathetic.

She always thought that if she were to be in one of these situations she’d go out fighting. But everything hurt so much and her head wouldn’t stop spinning and the taste of blood in her mouth made her even dizzier and there was nothing she could think to do other than beg for her life.

“It’s okay, it’s me. It’s Javier,” the shadow said.

Javi?

“What are you doing here?”

It’d been more than a month since she’d last seen him, that night when she’d decided the information she could extract from him wasn’t worth the way she was growing too close to him.

“We need to get you to a hospital,” he answered.

“No,” she shook her head, even though it hurt like hell. “I don’t have enough money.”

For once she wasn’t lying to him. Her parents had become increasingly wary of her time in Colombia and were trying to convince her to come home by slowly cutting her off financially. Now she really was dependent on the money she made from selling herself.

“I’ll pay.” There wasn’t even a hint of hesitation in his voice. His hands were already reaching to pick her up, but she squirmed out of his grip.

“I told you to stop being nice to me. Go away.”

“You think I’m going to leave you like this?” his voice was strained with something she couldn’t quite pinpoint. “At least let me get you inside.”

Fine.

She’d be an idiot not to admit she’d need help getting up to her apartment.

“You can’t stay. Just get me upstairs. You can’t come in.”

He was lifting her then, pulling her to her feet and ducking to place one of her arms around his broad shoulders. Her feet scraped against the ground as they walked across the street and up to the front door. She punched in the code on the dilapidated old door box. When the buzzer sounded Peña opened it and practically dragged her inside.

It took her several minutes to get up the stairs, taking each step slowly and carefully. Several times Javier tried to scoop up her legs and just carry her up on his own, but she wouldn’t let him.

It was bad enough that he was here, bad enough that she was seeing him again, bad enough that he was seeing her in her current state.

She was embarrassed. Out of her depth again. Being too naive again.

Would she ever feel anything other than stupid around him?

They finally reached her door and she began rummaging around in her pocket for her keys.

“You can go,” she said, pulling them out and sliding the right one into the first lock.

“I’m not leaving you like this. Not after you disappear for an entire fucking month and show up looking like you just got the shit beaten out of you.”

She let her forehead rest against her door. She didn’t know what hurt worse: her broken body or the thought of letting him in one more time.

“I didn’t disappear,” she mumbled through her busted lip.

“I’ve been going to that bar every single free night I have and you’re never there.”

“Must’ve just been going on different nights, then.”

“I asked the bartender. He hasn’t seen you in weeks.”

“Why do you care? It’s not like you don’t have other options.”

“That’s not what this is about. What’s going on?”

“You’ve already helped enough. Thank you. Now go.”

“Stop it. You can’t be on your own right now. End of story.” Javier took her key from her with ease and continued unlocking the door, pushing it open and gently leading her inside. She stumbled to rest against the counter as he shut and locked the door. He threw her keys down behind her and came closer to inspect her face. She tried to shake him off but she didn’t have the strength.

“Who did this to you?” he murmured, gently turning her face to either side to inspect it. She didn’t know how she looked, but given the grimace on his face she assumed it was awful. Great. Somehow that made him being there even worse.

“A friend,” she coughed. She could feel blood in her mouth and glanced down at her right arm. Just as she had expected, it was completely coated and smeared and half dried.

“The friend I told you to see?”

Maybe she should’ve lied, but it didn’t occur to her in the moment. So she nodded.

“Goddamnit,” Javier whispered, letting go of her face for a moment as he stepped back to collect himself. “Fuck.” She’d never heard him sound so angry. “Was it because you were trying to get information out of him?”

“Javi, it doesn’t matter.” She shook her head. It didn’t. She hadn’t been asking for him.

“It’s my fault.” He turned away from her and ripped a dish towel from the nearby rack. She coughed again and blood came pouring out of her mouth. All night she’d thought it’d been coming from the gash in her lip, but now she wasn’t so sure.

Javier soaked the towel under the faucet and came back to her, carefully wiping away the dirt and blood from her face. “It’s my fault,” he muttered again and again, though whether to her or to himself she couldn’t tell.

“You shouldn’t be here,” she said at last as he moved to rinse the grime off of the towel.

The pain of her wounds was ebbing while the pain of Javier showing her so much kindness was growing.

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t want you to be.”

He began wiping her face again, his expression almost as pained as she felt. “I know. This is my fault, I’m so sorry. I can’t say that enough.”

“This isn’t your fault Javi, it’s just -” her words were cut off as he tried to place a reassuring hand on her side and she cried out in agony.

“Shit.” Before she could even process what was happening he was carefully lifting her shirt up and examining her grimly. “Some of your ribs are probably broken, we should really get you to a hospital.”

“Javi, just leave, please.” It took all the energy she had to push him away, and after she did her legs gave up on her again and she slid down to the floor.

“Stop saying that. Why do you keep saying that?” He ran a hand through his hair and looked down at her with a thoroughly exasperated and confused expression.

“I lied to you,” she murmured, closing her eyes to stop the room from spinning.

“I know.” His voice came after a few moments of silence and was both soft and resigned.

“You know?” Her eyes snapped open again, looking at him in surprise and shame.

Of course he knew. She was a terrible liar. She should’ve guessed.

“Your parents weren’t missionaries. Or, if they were, the cartel didn’t kill them. Escobar doesn’t kill religious organizations working in the comunas, it’d go against his Robin Hood narrative.”

“…right.”

That wasn’t the lie she’d expected him to uncover.

“But I don’t give a shit about your parents or why you’re here. I don’t care that you lied about that.”

“That’s just one of many.”

If he wouldn’t leave because she asked him, maybe he’d leave if he knew the truth.

“I don’t give a shit. But we need to get you to a hospital. Now.”

“I’m not going. I can’t afford it. And I won’t let you pay for me. You’ve done that too many times already.”

His expression faltered at that, and he leaned against the fridge, slowly sinking down to the floor across from her.

“Too…too many times?”

She nodded.

“Did you…did you not want it last time? If I… holy fuck, I mean, if I -”

She shook her head.

“Not like that.”

Peña didn’t seem to know what to say to that. So he didn’t say anything. Instead he reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a cigarette, lit it, and stared at her. He seemed to read the question in her eyes and pulled another out for her, leaning forward to light it for her before returning to his slumped position opposite her.

One cigarette. That’s how long she could stand him being there. That’s how long she could stand looking into his eyes and facing that vast disconnect. There was kindness there, but detachment. Concern, but hesitation. It was the way you looked at someone you knew you should help, that you knew you should care about, but you couldn’t actually bring yourself to love them.

She sure as fuck didn’t love him. But she cared enough about him that that’s where it would lead eventually.

And she’d be completely alone in that. There was no hope of reciprocation here, not in those eyes.

Probably because those eyes had seen too much shit. And would continue to see too much shit.

And who had time to give a fuck about anyone else when you had to go through what he did?

“It all started so simply, didn’t it?” she began, laughing emptily as she took another puff.

“What do you mean?”

“Javi, I can’t be around you because I actually give a shit about you, alright? And I know you won’t feel the same way about me, and that fucking sucks and I don’t want to deal with that.”

He scoffed. At first he looked disbelieving, then furious.

“You think I don’t give a shit about you? You think I’ve been begging to take you to a hospital because I don’t give a shit about you?”

“Why do I want you so much? What about, I think about you fucking someone else and I can’t help but feel jealous. You don’t mean those things when you say them and I know that and I can’t stand it.”

“Isn’t that standard in your line of work?”

She’d have preferred if he’d stabbed her.

“I’m not really a prostitute, Javi. I’m just an idiot.”

“I mean, I know you’re new to all of this but still -”

“I’m a writer.” She cut him off before he could hurt her any further. She’d get it all out now, all of the truth, and then he’d know and then he’d leave her alone for good. “My parents weren’t missionaries. They’re alive and in Germany and they’ve been paying my rent. Well, not anymore, but I came here to do research on a book about the cartel wars. You were supposed to be research. Some other people I interviewed let me know that you’re a whore hound, and I thought if I could get you to fuck me you’d give me intel I could use for my book.”

Javier stared at her, his face stony and eyes growing colder by the second.

“So you knew who I was from the start?” he asked finally.

She nodded. “Yes. I was using you. I was taking your money and your sympathy in exchange for lies.”

“So what changed?”

She blinked in surprise. She’d expected that to be the end of it - that he’d find out she’d duped him and he’d be done with her and her bullshit. But maybe the last truth would be the one to set her free.

“I want you, Javi.” She shrugged, and when she did she caught sight of her bloodied arm and remembered how disgusting she must look at the moment and began to laugh. “Like I said, I’m not a prostitute, I’m just an idiot. I don’t know how to do what they do. I don’t know how to not care, not when someone’s good. Not when someone looks like you, talks like you.”

“I’m not lying when I say I think about you all the time,” he cut her off. “I’m lying when I say I only think about fucking you.”

“You and I both know that doesn’t mean you want anything more from me.”

“You’re right. But don’t think I don’t care about you. Don’t think I don’t want you, too. I just - with what I do, I can’t allot the mental space to really be with someone.”

She nodded. “Okay. But I lied to you.”

He took another draw from his cigarette and shook his head.

“So?”

“So…there’s nothing more for us.”

“Says who?”

“Will you stop seeing prostitutes?”

“No. And I won’t stop paying you, either. That’s what I can give in return. Money. It keeps things…simple.”

“So I’ll have to keep seeing cartel members. So I’ll probably get the shit beaten out of me again. I don’t know if it’s worth it. I should probably just give up.” It hurt to admit, but it seemed now like she’d failed. She lost both her cartel and D.E.A contacts. “I should just go home. I fucked up. I ruined it. Better I admit it now than drag it out any longer.”

“No,” he shook his head. “I can give you intel. Nothing classified, but I can tell you what I know and what I learn from my other informants. Just…don’t see cartel members anymore. Get a different job. Or not. Just see regular men, men who won’t kill you if you know too much about them.”

“How can you say that?” Despite her every effort, she felt herself tearing up. Fuck. Why did she always get so goddamn weepy around him? “I lied to you, Javi. It’d be better to just let me fail.”

“I believe in you. I haven’t read a single word of what you’ve written, but if you’re dedicated enough to this story that you’re putting your life and…everything else on the line, you shouldn’t give up.”

She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. It was too good to be true. And maybe too dangerous. Maybe if he showed her this continued kindness it’d only make it worse. But if he did care about her, in his own fucked up backwards way, that would be enough to make her not want to jump out a window every time she was near him.

“I -”

“Enough of this shit. I care about you. I don’t care that you’ve been lying to me, your intentions were fine. Not good, but fine. I don’t want to stop seeing you. But we really need to get you to a hospital, and if you don’t go with me willingly I’ll drag you kicking and screaming. It’s happening either way.”

“Fine.” He helped her to her feet and she grabbed her keys from the counter before he led her out the front door and down the gritty staircase.

[sugarandspace]

malec prompt: The hero shows up at the villain’s doorstep one night. They’re shivering, bleeding, scared. There’s also a slightly dazed look in their eyes– they were drugged. They look like they were assaulted. Looking up at the villain, swaying slightly as they’re close to passing out, they mumble “…didn’t know where else to go…” then collapse into the villain’s arms.

Thank you so much for the prompt! As you know, I didn’t go with the hero/villain thing and wrote a canon divergence AU instead! I hope you like this! :)

Behind Enemy Lines

AO3

Warnings: graphic descriptions of violence

It's a rare moment of peace and Alec has decided to take a walk. Well, ‘peace’ might be a wrong word to use since Valentine and Jonathan are still out there and the bridges built between the Downworld and the Shadowhunters are weak and frayed at best, but Alec needs this moment out of the Institute, out of the environment that screams war and helplessness. It’s been two weeks since the secret about the soul sword got out, two weeks since Magnus walked away.

Alec takes in a deep breath and tries not to think about it, which is useless because that seems to be the only thing he’s capable of thinking about lately. How his secrecy had destroyed the best thing he had going on for himself.

He can’t help but wonder how different things would be if they were fighting on the same side. If he’d been honest with Magnus, would they still have the Downworld on their side? Alec is pretty sure they would at least have Magnus.

Alec feels like his old self, a soldier who pushes his emotions out of the way to focus on duty. It’s not as easy as it used to be, now that he knows that there’s an alternative.

Lost in his thoughts, Alec doesn’t even realise that his feet have carried him to Brooklyn. It’s late and he’s on a more remote part of it and there’s no one in sight. He’s just about to turn around when he feels a hand on his shoulder and a sharp pain in his neck.

He pulls out his blade, ready to defend himself, but his fingers feel numb and the weapon clatters to the ground. He’s pushed to a wall of the nearby building, his cheek colliding with the rough brick. There’s a weight on his back, pinning him to a place.

“You want to see what happens to liars?” A male voice says and the person pulls Alec away from the wall only to slam him against it again. “You have a funny concept of transparency Lightwood.”

“I tried -” Alec starts but he’s cut off when the man pulls him away from the wall and throws him on the ground. Alec can’t see clearly, but there are three vaguely human-shaped blurs hovering above him. One of them kicks him on the side. Alec tries to curl into himself but the next kick is aimed at his back, the one following that hitting the back of his head.

Alec groans in pain, tasting blood in his mouth.

“Good luck trying to find your way back to your people,” one of the blurs says, a female voice this time. “It would truly be a shame if someone were to find you while you’re in such a vulnerable state.”

Alec tries to struggle as he feels hands on his body, patting down his clothes until they reach into his jacket pocket. He knows what’s in that pocket. His phone and his stele.

“You had no intention to help us, it’s your turn to feel helpless,” the male voice from earlier says. “I know your kind is a fan of taking trophies whenever they kill one of ours, I feel like this stele will look good on my shelf.”

The people leave, but not before kicking him on the side one more time. One of them steps over Alec’s forearm, stomping so hard the bone gives way underneath it.

Alec howls in pain. He struggles to catch his breath, to focus on the situation rather than the pain. He needs to get up, needs to get to safety. He can’t stay here. Who knows who will find him. Demons? Another group of angry Downworlders? A mundane?

Finding support from the wall next to him, Alec hauls himself into a sitting position. The world around him turns and twists and the pain is making it hard to concentrate. He wants to close his eyes and rest, but there is enough clarity in his mind that he knows that he shouldn’t. Knows that there’s a high chance he wouldn’t open them anymore.

Clenching his jaw tight, Alec stands up on his unsteady feet and starts his slow walk to safety.

-.-.-

Magnus sits down to his armchair with a drink in his hand. It’s been a long day, another one in a line of several long days. He’s grateful for the peace. Having all the warlocks of Brooklyn under his roof had been fun for a while, but as the situation lasted and lasted it was better to find an alternative hiding place for those who didn’t trust their own wards enough.

He’s able to enjoy the peace for roughly a minute before the big loft around him starts feeling lonely and quiet. It’s clearly empty, no sign of company anywhere to be seen.

No mission reports on the table, no bow next to the door. The only jacket draped over the couch is the one Magnus had been wearing earlier. Magnus curses himself for the feelings he still feels.

The distance hasn’t helped, he still finds himself wishing that Alec would walk in from the front door and make everything alright again. But then Magnus remembers the humiliation and betrayal he’d felt when they parted, and he gets angry. Angry at Alec and angry at himself, for not guarding his heart better.

He really should have learned by now.

There’s a knock on the door that brings Magnus out of his thoughts. It didn’t sound like a proper knock though, more like a thump, so he feels for his wards and finds out that the person behind the door is a friend and not a threat. But Magnus is not expecting anyone.

He welcomes the distraction though and gets up. He sets his glass on the table and walks towards the door. When he opens the door, he’s faced with a sight that makes him feel a myriad of emotions at once.

The person behind the door is Alexander. The sight of the man makes Magnus want to close the door to his face because he doesn’t have the mental capacity for this right now. But something’s wrong. Alec looks beaten, his breaths frantic and his clothes dirty. He’s leaning against the wall next to the door, cradling his left arm to his chest. He’s shaking, his clothes look damp, and there’s blood running down the side of his face as well as from the cut on his lip.

“Alexander?” Magnus asks, not an ounce of the anger he felt earlier in his voice. All of that is pushed aside by the wave of worry that’s threatening to drown Magnus.

“…didn’t know where else to go…” Alec says, his words slurring down a little. He’s looking at Magnus but his eyes can’t seem to be able to focus. He coughs, and there are splatters of blood on the wall next to his head.

Magnus is still frozen in shock, but as he sees Alec’s eyes slipping shut and his legs giving in, his arms are there to catch him. Alec goes completely limp in his arms and Magnus reacts immediately. He snaps his fingers to close the door behind Alec and creates a portal, bringing it towards them so it can suck them in. They appear in the bedroom, right next to the bed where Magnus lays Alec down.

He rolls his sleeves and gets to work, scanning Alec’s body with magic to get a clear idea of his injuries. He’s badly beaten, with broken ribs and internal bleeding. His left arm is bruised and broken, and there’s a tranquilizer strong enough to knock out a horse running in his system. It’s not working as strongly as it should now when it’s mixed with angelic blood, but it’s still a small miracle Alec made it this far before falling unconscious.

Magnus doesn’t waste any more time and gets to work, healing the most painful injuries first even though he’s not sure if Alexander can even feel the pain at the moment. There’s a question in his mind brought on by a familiar protectiveness he wishes he didn’t still feel so strongly.

“Who hurt you?”

-.-.-

When Alec wakes up, all he wants to do is go back to sleep. The bed underneath him is soft and the sheets silky against his sore body. He reaches his arm to the side and furrows his brow as he finds the bed next to him empty. That makes him wake up more and he remembers that he shouldn’t even be in this bed.

His heart starts to race and he slowly opens his eyes.

He’s in Magnus’ bedroom, and the room looks exactly the same as it did two weeks ago. Alec doesn’t know why he expected it to have changed. His eyes settle on Magnus who’s sitting on an armchair next to the bed. The first thing Alec realises is that he looks tired, and the second is that it doesn’t make him look any less beautiful.

A strong wave of regret fills his stomach and Alec has to swallow hard before he can speak.

“What happened?”

Because Alec has no idea how he got here. He tries to think hard and the last thing he remembers is that he was taking a walk. Everything after that is unclear.

“You showed up at my door a few hours ago bleeding and drugged,” Magnus says. His tone is impassive and Alec hates it. “I didn’t get much out of you before you passed out.”

Alec knows that there isn’t really anything he could have done differently, but he still feels guilty for showing up in here - for inconveniencing Magnus.

“I’m sorry,” Alec says quietly.

Magnus doesn’t respond. He stands up from the chair and turns his back to Alec. Alec realises that the reason for his fatigue and heavy movements is probably magic depletion and he must have exhausted himself while he was healing Alec.

“I know I have no right to be here,” Alec starts and stands up. He’s still feeling sore and he dreads to think about how bad he had been before Magnus healed him. He’s wearing different clothes than he was when he left the Institute earlier that evening - a soft t-shirt and faded sweatpants. It evokes a feeling he can’t explain - and that he has no room for in this moment - to see that Magnus hasn’t gotten rid of everything Alec left at the loft when they broke up. “I’ll go. Thank you for healing me, you can send the bill to the Institute.”

Alec hates how his own voice sounds, professional and distant. It isn't the voice he usually uses with Magnus, but he feels like he’s not allowed to use that tone anymore. He lost the right when he lied to Magnus.

“Money?” Magnus asks, turning around so fast Alec takes a step back. He looks angry, the glamour long gone from his eyes. “You think I care about money?!”

Alec doesn’t know what to say, stunned from the sudden outburst.

“You almost died, Alexander.” Magnus says and his tone is still harsh. “And you’re treating this like business.”

“How should I treat it then?” Alec asks, his own tone challenging. He doesn’t want to argue, not after Magnus had apparently saved his life, but he can’t just stand there and take everything Magnus is saying.

“Isn’t that what we are?” Alec continues when Magnus doesn’t say anything. “Isn’t that what you’d expect from anyone? Money for the services provided?”

“This is different,” Magnus says, his tone still angry.

“You are right,” Alec says. “We are on different sides, you probably wouldn’t offer your services to an enemy. I’m sorry you had to save me.”

Alec tries to walk past Magnus and leave the loft because this feels awful. It was torture when they weren’t talking, but arguing with Magnus feels a lot worse. He only manages a few steps before Magnus reaches out and takes a hold of his bicep.

“Don’t walk away from me,” Magnus says, his teeth clenched.

Alec laughs. The sound sounds hysterical to his own ears.

“You’re one to talk,” he says as he turns to look at him again. “You walked away from me first.”

The words sting and Alec can see that Magnus reacts to them as well. He just can’t make sense of what the reaction means. When did he stop being able to read Magnus?

“You lied to me,” Magnus says, his hand dropping down and his words no longer angry. The tone he’s using now is cold, laced with the pain of betrayal that still feels fresh.

“I made a mistake,” Alec says quietly, shame filling him. He feels tired, both physically and mentally. “Look, why are we arguing? What is this going to accomplish? Let me leave and I won’t bother you anymore.”

“I don’t want you to feel like you can’t come to me when you need help,” Magnus says, his voice now tired as well. “You could have died if you didn’t come here tonight, and if there is a next time, I don’t want you to try to find help somewhere else, when I’m close by.”

“You shouldn’t need to worry about me anymore,” Alec says quietly.

“I know,” Magnus says weakly. “And I’ve tried to stop. But not a day goes by when I don’t think about you. I can’t hate you. I hate what you did, I truly despise being lied to - but I can’t make my heart hate you.”

“I can’t stop thinking about you either,” Alec admits. “I really am sorry I didn’t tell you about the soul sword. If there were a way to go back in time and change it I would. I thought I was doing what was right, but nothing good has come out of it. I miss you and I can’t stand being on different sides.”

“You said it yourself once, after our differences almost drove us apart at the beginning,” Magnus says quietly. “Relationships take effort. I stand by what I said, I’m ready to put in that effort, if you are too.”

“Yes,” Alec says immediately. “I promise to learn from my mistakes, if you promise to stay when things get difficult.”

“I think I can promise that,” Magnus says, and his lips lift up in a small smile. Alec can’t help but smile back, the first real smile in two weeks. It’s a smile of relief and hope, and Alec can’t quite believe he gets to feel those emotions again.

“Stay for the rest of the night?” Magnus asks. “I couldn’t find your phone so I sent a fire message to Izzy explaining the situation. She knows you’re here.”

Alec nods, walking back to the familiar bed.

It will take a while before they sleep like they used to, limbs tangled together and breath warming skin, but this is a start. A new day will come and they will talk more, trust will be rebuilt and shame will fade. They will build their relationship back to what it was, and they will do it while fighting for the world that is theirs

Not the Downworld or the world of Nephilim, but the Shadow World, a world of individuals who are used to fighting each other when they would be stronger if they fought together. That is not a short distance goal though, and will only be reached with small steps in the right direction.

For now, sleeping in the same bed and being on the same page is enough.

[wykart]

Fifty-one years (and one day) later

Part 1 (ao3)

Summary: Dave doesn’t die in the war and Klaus has no reason to leave the past. Fifty-one years on and he finds himself back at the time he left the world he knew, now eighty years old. He decides to pay his siblings a visit. 

He stood outside the building, looking at those stupid umbrella patterns on the glass-panelled doors, starting to get cold feet. He clutched the briefcase tightly in one hand, an object that had haunted him for the past fifty years, a reminder of who he’d been, where he’d come from. He never told Dave the truth, there was never any need, though he had always suspected that there was something strange about Klaus – the things he knew, the way he spoke, the secrets he kept. 1968 had been a fresh start, no strings attached, all the hardships and shortcomings of the past left behind. Now here he was, staring the truth in the face. He had to say goodbye, one last time, even though he suspected that his siblings wouldn’t have noticed if he’d just disappeared without an explanation. He’d lived a good life – not that they’d care – but it was over now. Dave had passed some time at the beginning of the year, and Klaus’ reason to go on had passed with him. This was all that was left now. One last loose end to tie off. He shut his eyes and pushed through the nerves. Walking up the front steps on old, stiff legs, he entered the academy.

…

“So the apocalypse is in three days, the only chance we have to save our world is – well – us.”

“The umbrella academy,” Luther offered, helpful as always.

“Yeah, but with me, obviously. So if you all don’t get your side-show acts together and get over yourselves –” Five looked at them, one, two, three – of course, he thought. “Have any of you seen Klaus?” Five thought that getting himself back here was supposed to be the difficult part, but now Klaus had apparently gone wandering off. They needed every single one of them here, working together, just to stand a chance against whatever was coming. He didn’t have time for Klaus’ antics, not when they only had three days left. 

“No,” Allison sighed, “I haven’t seen him since the other day, the family meeting before those psychos showed up.”

“Damn it” Five cursed, setting down what had been Allison’s take away coffee cup. “we need everyone.”

“Relax, he’s probably just off getting high somewhere ,” Diego offered, unbearably calm given the urgency of the situation. “Those psychos had him hostage but he was already gone when I found... when I got to the motel.” None of them understood what was really at stake here, they all still saw him as the kid he’d been, raving about the end of the world as if it were a game.

“You know what Diego, no, I won’t just relax, or maybe you don’t care what happens to the world and everyone in it.”

“Well, I sure don’t.” A haggard voice sounded from outside, in the entrance hall. An old man came hobbling in, hunched over and white-haired. He had a more… colourful way of dressing than your average member of the elderly. He certainly had a dramatic way of butting in on a private conversation.

“Who the hell is this guy?” Allison asked, looking toward Luther for some sort of explanation.

“Hey old timer,” Diego drawled, looking on with bemused disbelief, “this is private property.” Five, however, noticed a familiar-looking briefcase that the man was clutching in his white-knuckled hand.

“You know, I’m surprised you even noticed I was gone, so I suppose you get points for that,” the man continued, walking towards the four of them and their confused expressions. “Good luck with the whole end of the world thing,” he smirked, “I just came to deliver something.”

“What the hell is going on - Five?” Luther asked, but Five was too busy trying to piece all of this together. Of course, the situation all made perfect logical sense – it was the emotional hurdle that he found it more difficult to surpass – because this couldn’t be happening.

He sighed. “It’s a 90 year old man wearing eyeliner, Luther. Who do you think it is.”

The man gave a bemused chuckle. “Well excuse me, young man, I am eighty-one, and quite frankly offended.” The sarcasm, the way he brought humour into the most inappropriate of situations…There was something about the way he moved that was painfully familiar to all of them - then he waved, both hands, tattoos sagging and deformed on worn, wrinkled palms. Hello. Goodbye. Klaus.

“What the fuck?” Diego gasped, staring as the old man, who none of them could bring themselves to think of as Klaus, smiled broadly.

Five smirked, impatient, and – as unwilling as he was to admit it – sad. “Klaus,” he said, a statement rather than a question. Klaus nodded. Looking closer, he could make out his brother’s features under those sagging jowls, that wrinkled skin. Heavy lids sunk over green eyes, a long face topped with whitened curls.

“What, no,” Allison said, still staring, “that’s not - Klaus?” Klaus winked and waved at her. She looked as if she was about to throw up.

“Wait, wait a second,” Luther announced, playing the leader as always, trying to maintain order as they all fell apart. “Five, what’s going on?”

Five ignored him. “What happened to the briefcase?” He asked.

“Oh, that,” Klaus waved him away, “it’s right here, I came to return it.” He jiggled the case in his hand, offering it to him.

Five shook his head. Klaus was unbelievably stupid – of course, so were the others, but this was a whole new level. “Why didn’t you just use it, it would have taken straight back here.”

Klaus rolled his eyes, lifting up one hand to inspect his nails absent-mindedly. As if his sibling’s horror didn’t mean a thing to him. “Yeah, well, I didn’t want to come back here as a matter of fact. You know,” he sighed, looking off into the distance, and into another time, “I had a great life – and apparently now the world is ending in three days so I’m extra glad I stayed away from all that. Good luck though.” He flashed a smile and turned to leave, dumping the briefcase down at his feet unceremoniously.

“W-wait a second,” Five stammered, glaring after him, “you’re just leaving?” He couldn’t believe it, everything was going wrong. They needed Klaus, as strange as it felt to admit, and the Klaus they’d known was as good as gone.

“Well why not little bro, I’ll just go sit by the grave of the love of my life and watch to world burn - that is, unless you all manage to stop it, which will be a spectacle in itself.”

“You get it off Hazel and Cha-cha?” Five asked, remembering what Diego had said about them taking him hostage. Those two were brutal, and it was a miracle that Klaus had managed to get away at all. He wondered what they’d done to him, something so horrible that he’d felt the need to run away from everything else? Or had Klaus been looking for an escape like this his whole life – from his siblings and his father’s legacy, and his shame at the gutter or addiction and squalor he’d burrowed himself into.

“Yeah,” he chuckled, “I thought it’d be full of cash but I got one better, a way out of this dump,” he sighed, “you know, it seems like it all happened just yesterday – oh wait – it did!” He laughed, high-pitched and sarcastic in the way he did at self-deprecating jokes that were more sad than funny. None of the others laughed.

“1968?” Five asked, based on the age that Klaus had given. Klaus nodded. “Nice,” he smirked.

“So, what,” Allison puzzled, “that thing’s a time machine?”

“You got it sis,” he gave her double finger guns, winking. Five still couldn’t get over uncanny feeling of looking at an eighty-year old man with black nail polish. “You know, I was all up in that original hippie business, let me tell you, they don’t make drugs like those anymore, and the clothes... incredible.” He smiled, whimsical. “Anyway, just came to say goodbye, good luck, see you again never - oh, and don’t bother coming to the funeral.” He flashed them all a devilish smile, and waved an appropriately-tattooed hand as he turned to leave.

Luther called after him. “You can’t just abandon this family Klaus!”

“Yeah, he’s actually right on that one, we need everyone here to stop this thing!” Five added. Klaus gave them all a middle-fingered salute over his shoulder as he walked out, fishing a cigarette out of his pocket.

The four remaining Hargreeves turned to each other, all of them lost for words. “Well,” Five shrugged, “that certainly makes things more difficult.”

Diego was staring at the spot where Klaus had been standing moments earlier. He looked close to tears. “This can’t be happening,” he muttered, straightening up and making for the exit.

“Diego, wait!” Allison called after him, but he paid no attention. Moments later, the doors slammed, and the three of them were left in yet another uncomfortable silence.

[ciderapples]

How it Goes

Destiel/14x12 coda | on AO3

It's late, and they're beat.

The bunker is dim: necessary lights only.

Dean puts on Tom Waits and forgets about it, and as Sam finishes a sandwich and Cas translates, he wanders away into the beer closet and doesn’t come back.

There’s an end in sight. There always is, these days, but this one's weird and doesn’t sit right with anyone.

Dean, in a box at the bottom of the ocean, with an archangel.

It even sounds stupid.

Not to mention, the tightest space Dean’s ever been able to stand is Baby’s back seat, and then only with the windows cracked. That Dean would be able to stomach an hour in the box — even on dry land, in the safety of the bunker — is dubious. Now, under the ocean? Supplied with a steady stream of his own worst memories by an angel who, if he can’t destroy the world, will settle for torturing Dean, instead?

With all the gods and witches and possibilities in the world, this is the plan?

Cas marks the page where he stops and slides his translation aside.

This can't be how it ends. Not with Dean walking around like a wrong-ended magnet, repelling all of them, refusing to be approached, or to talk, or to deal, while Cas is this close to the end of seeing him forever.

He finds Dean's door unlocked, and feels an uneasy roll of worry when he turns the knob and realizes it's just going to open.

Either Dean knew he was coming, or Dean knew someone would be coming, or he's panicking: an unlocked door, this time of night, this many beers in...in Dean’s unspoken language, it's almost translatable as a scream, something loud enough to echo.

All the lights are off in Dean's room, except for the TV. It’s a small old set, probably boosted from a shitty motel too cheap to replace it, which means that somewhere in middle America there’s an empty spot on a pressboard bureau. An empty spot in the wall socket. A bill that’ll never be paid, on a credit card that doesn’t exist.

It must remind Dean of home.

Cas doesn’t recognize what he’s watching. There’s a woman, but she’s not naked. A man, not trying to have sex with her, though he does have guns, and seems to be made halfway of metal.

 Wait.

“That man is a politician,” Cas accuses.

Dean shifts on the bed where he’s splayed out, watching the former governor of California shoot people.

“That’s the Terminator,” Dean says.

“The Terminator,” Cas repeats. It’s not that human words confuse him anymore, it’s that he doesn’t get how any human could get from Point A to Point B: elected official, from…terminating. Terminating a lot.

“Cas.”

It’s a three-letter word but Dean slurs it. Fatigue, not alcohol. Alcohol doesn’t touch Dean like it used to (though that doesn’t stop him from drinking). There’s enough going on, that… Well. It’d take a stronger drug.

“Dean, we need to talk,” Cas says.

“Yeah,” Dean sighs. “I know.” On his breath, resignation rolls over cold. Like talking about the box is worse than the box itself will ever be. He stirs again on the bed, shoving himself up against the headboard. “C’mon, then. Let’s get this over with.”

Hurt shines out of Cas’ eyes at that, and Dean seems surprised, and relents. He doesn’t say anything in apology, but he gives Cas a deliberately softer look of exasperation and hopes he’ll settle for it.

The hurt dampens, but remains. Cas pads into Dean’s tiny, bare fortress and stands in the middle of it, unsure of how to be, and Dean folds up, bracing against what hasn’t yet been said: head ducked and arms crossed over his lap.

“Lay it on me, Cas,” he says.

Cas is ready to. But then there’s this moment of long, deep darkness, when everything is the flicker of television and the sounds of a car chase, and Dean’s face is gray in the light and his eyes shine up more than they should, and Cas catches the faint press of Dean’s chin trying to keep his mouth from flexing, and Cas remembers with sudden clarity what’s been too easy to forget (because Dean's made it easy on purpose, and because the threat of loss has Cas cornered inside himself, selfish and jealous):

 Dean doesn’t want to go.

And if Dean were any lesser of a person — even by a hair — he couldn't make himself, even if he did want to.

But Dean is Dean, and Dean’s resolve is unique among men: it makes a stripe across his soul, visible from anywhere.

And Cas, who came filled with things to say, suddenly doesn’t want to.

“Stop looking at me like that,” Dean says.

Cas blinks.

He refocuses, away.

In what way was he looking at Dean?

Was it the same way Dean’s been looking at him?

Sad? Tired? Given up?

Dean sighs, suddenly, a sigh that takes his shoulders down with it, his chin falling to his chest, a dark hiccup in the shadows that could be the open and shut of a mouth. Cas leans forward on his toes, and catches Dean’s words despite their being almost-not-there.

“Look." Dean shakes his head at the ground. "I’ll say it, if you need that.”

Cas’s shiver is an instant reflex that his coat hides well.

The ‘it’ is no mystery, not to either of them, but this is the first time Dean’s ever acknowledged that it exists at all: real, and not just a strange habit Cas has fallen into all on his own. An anxious flurry follows, a thrash against glass that Cas’ lungs makes, and suddenly Cas realizes (and understands, and accepts, all in the same moment) that this is the real reason he’s come here, tonight. That the box is just a timer counting down, applying urgency, and all Cas' other questions, all his other arguments, are just a way to shine light on this thing that’s been chained in the shade for so long.

Dean can’t go away before it gets a first breath, or a last, if that’s the way it has to go.

It would be wrong, otherwise: wrong in a built-in way, like blasphemy, something you can’t explain why but it upsets the order of the world itself.

Cas steps forward while Dean keeps talking.

“I’d just as soon not,” Dean admits. “I don’t feel like giving whoever’s listening-” he rolls a finger toward the heavens “—the ammunition.” His lips press together, maybe between his teeth. “But I owe you, for a lot. Before I go.” Dean’s gaze picks up again, startling Cas at four paces. All the little lines around his eyes, fine as feathers, come out with his defensive squint. “Or, we could just…leave it where it is."

There’s no way Cas takes him up on that, and Dean knows it. He creases a small smile into his face and sits back again, straighter, but exhausted. Cas finally reaches the little chair at the side of Dean’s bed and balances, rather than sits, on its very edge.

“I don’t want to leave it,” he says, roughed-up even by his own standards. “I don’t want you to do this.”

“I know,” Dean says quietly, almost comfortingly. “I know.” He reaches out to tug the corner of Cas’ coat (the one he never takes off, even indoors, and they’ve all just stopped questioning it) and lets his thumb hook in, under the sleeve.

There’s nothing to argue and both of them know it. Only a miracle could change the future, now. And miracles exist, which, just knowing that is more hope than people usually get to cling to, but it’s still so brutally insufficient.

Everything about this is insufficient.

Dean’s attention has slipped to the lock of his hand and Cas’ sleeve, and Cas says his name to bring him back.

“I’ll still be out there, right?” Dean offers, as comfort. “I mean, I won’t be gone, gone.”

“That’s worse,” Cas says. “That’s much worse.”

“Worse than what? What else is there, at this point? You want to take me up to heaven instead? Put me in my own memories forever?” Dean shakes his head. “Just another box, Cas. At least this one keeps the world from ending.”

Cas doesn’t address the grossly unequal comparison. “There are other ways to keep the world from ending. We will find one.”

“When you do,” Dean says, smiling faintly, “you can come haul me up.”

Cas’ whole chest jolts, heart to ribs to spine. Hearing it put so concretely is a misery. Dean will be under the water. Dean will be at the bottom of the ocean. In a box. Completely alone. Cas suddenly slips out of breath and tries to gasp it back, and his whole head gets flustered about it until Dean’s hand comes down on his shoulder.

“In and out, buddy,” he says, leaning in. “Easy. In and out.”

Cas listens. Cas obeys. Dean’s face hovers next to him, Dean’s voice passes instructions through his ears, and slowly breathing gets easier, and eventually existing feels normal again.

“You okay?” Dean asks. He leans in a little more cautiously, inspecting.

Cas just nods. He’s not alright. Only in a relative sense could he even come close. His shoulder is warm and weak under Dean’s grip, and his eyes feel bad and strange, and the TV is hurting his ears. Dean seems to infer this last part, and he digs the remote out of a fold in the bedding and stops the movie.

The sudden silence buzzes.

“I can’t let you do this,” Cas whispers. He whispers it in shame, because Dean can do this, but Cas doesn’t know if he has the strength to allow the world to live on while Dean suffers. He can’t see a future that exists this way, where Dean is screaming and screaming and Cas can hear every cry but do nothing. “You may have to kill me,” he says, very seriously.

Dean assumes histrionics and scoffs. “Cas-”

“You don't understand. I’m- I’m not sure of my ability to allow this to happen,” Cas clarifies, and now Dean stops. The hand on Cas’ shoulder tightens.

“Cas,” Dean says. His hand tightens again, and his face goes upset with it until he makes it relax. “This is why I don’t want to go down this road. It’s not gonna make anything any easier, you know that.”

Cas doesn’t doubt him. But this isn’t about ‘easier.’ There’s no way to make a Mal’ak box easier. There’s no way to send Dean off to not die, ever. It’s the opposite of Cas’ job. Cas brings Dean home.

“And it’s not just because of the box,” Dean clarifies. “Even without the box. Even if we just stayed here, business as usual. It’s this life, Cas; there’s just things you can’t have. Everywhere we go, we make an army of enemies who are just waiting for any way in. Any weakness, Cas, any little crack in the wall.” He looks away for a minute. “Any time we have something, it goes bad. Mom and dad. Jessica. Lisa and Ben. Even Sam and me, I mean, how many times…” He drifts off. “That’s the lay of the land, here, all right? If it means something to you, it’s gone.”

“Sam-”

“What about Sam?” Dean is a knife that tilts up in light, glinting.

Cas voice runs away.

“Here’s the truth,” Dean growls. It’s so bitter Cas can taste it. “If I could snap my fingers and never see him again, but I would know, every day, that he’s out there living a life where he gets to be happy — I mean stupid happy — I would’ve done it thirty years ago. I’d do it now. I’d do it yesterday. But he’s here, and he knows how I feel about him, and do you really think that makes it easier to lose him? He’s died more than I’m willing to remember. I promise you- I swear to you, Cas, it’s not easier.”

Resistance straps Cas’ jaw tight to his skull. He wants to fight back, but doesn’t know how: Dean’s telling the truth, his truth, and Cas doesn’t have another. Something burns in his face, painfully.

“Cas- don’t-” Dean says haltingly. Cas hears him move but can’t see how or where, because his eyes are broken, but Dean’s hands on his shoulders move up to his face, and thumbs touch under his eyes, wet and slipping. It’s a jarring touch — surprising from Dean, whom Cas has seen be deft, and quick, and even delicate, but never this. “Hey,” Dean says, almost under his breath. He murmurs lies in a tone that’s also surprising. Cas wonders if anyone else has heard it, in the history of Dean. “It’s gonna be okay. It’s gonna be fine.”

“Please don’t go,” Cas says, in a voice he can barely command. This awful human feeling is just wrapped, entwined, in every piece of his body, tightening and tightening, and his words come out high and strangled. “Please, please don’t go. I’ll do whatever it takes,” he bargains. “I’ll find something-”

But, “No,” is all Dean repeats, until Cas stops making empty promises. He finally gets Cas’ eyes clear and lets his thumbs rest on his cheekbones, back of Cas’ head braced between his wrists. “Listen to me,” he says, trying to anchor Cas’ focus, moving into his jumpy gaze. “No matter what happens, I need you to be okay, alright? I need you to be here for Sam.”

“No,” he creaks.

Cas will not say yes to this.

It’s cruel for Dean even to ask.

“C’mon, Cas. That’s the way it has to be.” Dean’s head tilts so far to the side it leads Cas with it. They both pause, tipped like little birds. Cas can’t look away. He puts his hands up around Dean’s wrists to keep him there, fingers loosely wrapped, palms warm and feeling, so slightly, the pulse running up Dean’s arms.

“No,” he whispers again, and Dean accepts it this time. No argument. He floats his thumbs over Cas’ skin a few times, from the smooth to the stubble.

“Okay,” he says.

Cas doesn’t like ‘okay’. It feels like he’s being dismissed. Shut out. Like Dean’s giving up on him. And the look on Dean’s face doesn’t help any. He’s focused down and away, like he can see the skin under his hands, the swallow in Cas’ throat.

“Dean-”

“I love you,” Dean says.

Cas chokes on whatever he was about to say. He does his best to stifle it, given their proximity, and succeeds partway. He coughs the last of it out of the wrong pipe and while he does, Dean stays silent, doesn’t say anything more — just lets what he said sit between them, small and quiet and stunning. Cas reaches to envelop it with every sense he has: to cover it and keep it from dissipating. For a second he can see it, gold and holy — is it his grace that perceives this, or is it all in his head?

I love you makes a cavern inside him, and Dean lights it. But then Dean goes in the box and everything goes dark, and the cavern remains but fear floods in, pitch black and rising until it’s filled, suffocated in the space of a moment.

Dean watches Cas’ face as it happens: like he understands.

Like it’s happened to him, too.

The fear seeps up Cas’ throat while he’s clawing to protect this thing that’s drowning, and Dean doesn’t have to say I told you so. If it were impossible to let Dean go before, it’s absolutely unquestionable now.

“I get it,” Dean says. “Believe me, I get it.” He firms his grip and gives Cas’ head a little shake, so small. It’s an instruction: don’t do this. Spare yourself. But it brings Cas' face closer, too, within what, for Dean, is usually best described as headbutting distance, but here is very different. It seems like a map that Dean's laying out, a clear what-happens-next if Cas doesn't let this drop, and what a very strange way this is to try to dissuade him. Dean's breathing is changed, his eyes are dark, he keeps pulling Cas' face just a little bit closer as he's warning Cas not to take his foot off the brakes.

Dean's gaze dips to Cas' mouth. It doesn't stay; it bolts away; it's barely there long enough to be seen. But Cas suddenly realizes he's been fooled, just like with the box, misdirected with every tool in Dean's belt for a very long time.

Dean doesn't want to go.

And Dean does want this.

Cas goes wide-eyed at him, the happiest and worst he’s ever been.

There's a word Cas has been jealous of since humanity took it, warped it, and made it carry water that angels couldn’t drink. He’s used it in its duller form, toward his father, toward his brothers, even toward humanity, though only in a whole, nebulous way. He’s spoken of love, he’s spoken from love. He’s aching to speak in love, even at the cost of having it ripped away.

He puts his hands desperately on the sides of Dean’s head, mirroring the grasp Dean has on him, and Dean's skin wakes under his touch, blushing in the dark.

Cas opens his mouth, and owns it.

[jayalaw]

HTTYD3 Fix-It: How to Crown A Dragon King, Chapter Two

@evilwriter37 @ashleybenlove @jettara @inhonoredglory @kingofthewilderwest @wolfie-dragon-rider

Hiccup groaned when he woke up. His head was spinning, and part of him was wondering if Tuffnut had goaded him into another drinking contest with Eret. Except Eret would have refused after how Astrid had threatened to tie all of Berk's men up if they messed with Hiccup's brain again.  

Fire. The sting of a dart. A man sitting in his father's chair.  

Memories returned. He would have shot up straight, except he couldn't move without every muscle complaining of pain. His head ached badly. Cold metal encircled his wrists.

"I was wondering how long you would be out," Grimmel commented. "Normally that drug would make a Gronckle sleep for days."

Hiccup coughed out the foul taste in his mouth. He got his bearings. Wooden boards beneath his cheeks. The glint of nails off iron. They seemed to be in a ship, but he heard no waves lapping against the boards.  He pulled himself to a sitting position.

"What is this?" he asked.

"A sky ship," Grimmel said. "My dragons carry it, avoiding the currents and allowing for bulk. Surely you have thought of it."

Hiccup had thought of it. He had once used a shipwreck to ferry baby dragons from where they had hatched on a tropical island. These days, however; the mating cycle was more synchronized; the dragons all went with their riders, had their babies, and returned.

He lifted his head and got to a sitting position. Then he rested his cuffed hands on his good leg. Pain clicked in his brain as he tried to think of how to escape. It was like Grimmel had cut open his forehead and poured alcohol on his brain.

"Where are you taking me?"

"Away," Grimmel said. A tight smile crossed his frame. "You'd best get comfortable, Hiccup. It's going to be a long ride."

"Yeah, no." Hiccup fumbled for the side of the ship. "I think I'd rather tend to those fires that you set. Chief duties, you know."

Grimmel watched. Hiccup tried to pull himself up, ignoring the wobbling feeling in his legs. His head kept spinning like a child's toy.

"Why were you given that name anyway?" Grimmel asked. "Is it meant to sound like a hicc-up? Like the sound you make when you've had too many oysters?"

Grimmel made a hiccuping sound to demonstrate.

"It's tradition to name runts that," Hiccup responded shortly. It brought back a memory, of when he had asked his father the same question.

“Ah, so you were a runt. That explains the tininess,” Grimmel glanced away. “A shame. He was a good chief.”

Unlike you, the rest of the sentence seemed to say.

“He was the best,” Hiccup said, and he knew that it was true.

He managed to glimpse the ocean below puffs of cloud. They were hundreds of feet in the air, and night breezes shot past them. Hiccup tried to think. It made his head throb.

"Just to be clear, you need me alive?" Hiccup asked, trying to sound casual. "Because you want my dragon?"

"I don't need you alive," Grimmel said. "I’ve caught and killed many Night Furies. One more won’t make a difference. The factions that paid me to bring you in would be satisfied with your head probably."

"Sorry, I'd rather keep it," Hiccup said. He leaned against the side of the boat, looking down. Unless he got his hands free, the fall would kill him; he was still wearing the flight suit, but it meant nothing unless he could spread the leathery wings. Still, he had a lockpick somewhere in the suit. If he could struggle for it. Or he could go for the simple solution.

He tripped on his prosthetic as he turned to tackle Grimmel. The man watched as Hiccup fell on his chin, hard. He felt a splinter lodge under the white scar from when he was a baby.

"Did you actually think you'd be up to fight?" Grimmel smirked. "No wonder the other chiefs wanted to underpay me."

"Well, you know Vikings," Hiccup quipped. "We have stubbornness issues."

He swiped with his bound hands. Fists connected with Grimmel's knees, a trick Astrid had taught him. Grimmel grunted as he went down. Hiccup pounced on him the way Sharpshot had. He wrapped the short chain around the man's neck. not enough to strangle him, but enough to hold him.

"Give . . . me . . . the key," Hiccup panted.

Grimmel growled and bucked his thighs. Hiccup yelped as he went sailing through the air. It was only by some miracle that Grimmel didn’t toss him over the side. This time he landed on his shoulder. Below him, the dragons jostled the ship, making it sway through the air. That hurt more. Before he could get up, Grimmel placed a thick boot on his back, pinning him to the ground.

"You don't know when to quit?" he said, no longer smiling.

"Never," Hiccup grunted. "Even if I have to toss myself into the sea, I'm going down fighting."

"That won't be necessary, Chief," a familiar voice said. "We'll do the fighting for you."

Grimmel's expression changed. Eret straddled Skullcrusher, his mouth in a hard line. Astrid hovered beside him, her face promising murder.

"Give me back my fiance," she said.

Grimmel pulled out a sword and pressed it to Hiccup's throat. Hiccup saw his bloodshot eyes in the blade.

"That's not going to work a second time," Astrid said. "We brought along backup."

She whistled. The antlered dragon crashed into the ship. Grimmel and Hiccup yelped as the force tossed them into the air. Strong claws caught Hiccup; Skullcrusher. He wondered when his head would stop spinning.

Stormfly and the antlered dragon released fire on Grimmel's ship. His red dragons grabbed the man and pulled him away into a retreat.

"We got you!" Eret shouted. "Let's get back to Berk!"

"Astrid, come on!" Hiccup called. "We need to stop all the fires."

"We handled the fires!" she called back.

Though it took her visible effort, she turned her dragon around. Skullcrusher dropped Hiccup onto Stormfly, nearly behind Astrid. Hiccup tightened his thighs around the leather saddle.

"Are you hurt?" Astrid asked, twisted her head to look back at him.

"Eh, a few bruises and a splitting headache; nothing that will leave a scar. And I still have my leg! I hope Gobber has a good lockpick." Hiccup lifted his bound hands. "Wasn't able to get to mine."

Astrid grunted in relief. Sweat ran down her hair in streaks, and soot covered her front.

"Where's Toothless?" Hiccup asked.

"Back on Berk," Astrid said. "I didn't want to risk his safety since Grimmel wanted him."

Hiccup nodded in thanks. It's what he would have done. Poor Toothless must be tearing up the floorboards while pacing Berk.

"Who was that guy?" she asked. "He sneaked past all our defenses."

"Grimmel," Eret said. "One of Drago's top Trappers, except for yours truly. A man who enjoys the thrill of the hunt. It would be like him to infiltrate the village and set everything on fire. We're just lucky he didn't get far."

"How far DID he get?" Hiccup eyed the sea.

"Quite a bit but Skullcrusher and Stormfly were fast," Astrid said. "It's fine. We'll double the defenses. And we'll rebuild. We always do."

Hiccup relaxed. He wanted two blocks of ice for his head, and to sleep the next twenty hours away. And he wanted to ask Eret more about Grimmel. Part of him wanted to recall what King of Vikings was, and why the man wanted Toothless. But for now, things were calm. He was safe. Toothless was as well.

         #

Gothi looked over Hiccup, after she shoved a metal tankard in his hand with mead and gestured at him to drink up. Hiccup tried, but the alcohol was too strong so he managed a few sips. His hands still ached despite Gobber using blacksmith tools to remove the cuffs. Gothi ran her thin fingers over the puncture wound in his neck. She frowned. A Terrible Terror, one of her dozens, was dozing in her hair. It snored as she moved, making a strange growling sound.

Toothless had already come and given Hiccup a thorough tongue bath; he was checking on all the dragons now, to make sure none were hurt and missing. All the Vikings huddled there in the cove. The last of Grimmel’s were burning the remains of the village down. Hiccup could still see the orange glow in the sky.

“We tried putting the fires out,” Fishlegs said. “The water didn’t work. The dragons somehow managed to gather dirt from the woods and toss it. Most of the ashes are greasy.”

“I’ll take a look at them tomorrow,” Hiccup frowned. “A fire that water can’t douse. We need to look into it.”

“Probably oil-based,” Eret mused. “I’ve seen those sorts of flames when you want to burn something and make sure it never comes back.”

“It’s too late to rebuild,” Snotlout said. “I’m going to KILL Grimmel! He burned down all my shinies!”

“We can camp here for tonight,” Hiccup said, tilting his head so Gothi could look closer. “Any casualties?”

“Fortunately, no,” Gobber said. “We’ve been so used to fires that first sign of smoke, and we’re all out there. But there was a close call with some of the children.”

Hiccup gulped. He managed some mead to go with that swallow.

Gothi narrowed her eyes. She drew in the dirt.

“Can someone get us a light?” Hiccup called. Someone brought a torch over. “How bad is it, Gothi?”

“She says that you’re banged up, nothing that a little sleep can’t fix,” Gobber said. “Obviously she orders a full night’s sleep, lots of herbs and bath salts, and take a break from chiefing duties tomorrow.”

“I can’t take a break,” Hiccup said. “We just got attacked! By someone who slipped past our defenses and burned down our village!  We need to rebuild, and reinforce the island. No one else is going to sleep tonight - ow!”

Fortunately Gothi missed whacking him on his injured side. But she glared at him. The Terror opened one lazy eye to glare as well. The pupil glowed a fierce red.

“Doctor’s orders, Hiccup,” Gobber quipped. “I’d suggest listening to her.”

“We’ll take care of the rebuilding,” Astrid said. “We did use to run the firefighting squad.”

“Grimmel doesn’t take defeat well,” Eret said. “It is unlikely, however, that he will make a repeat attempt with how his ship was damaged. He likes to be the predator, not the prey. The Crimson Goregutter bought us time, a day at least.” “He called himself King of VIkings,” Hiccup said. “My father’s books have that term. I know it sounds familiar.”

Toothless bounded towards them. The dragon looked sobering. Hiccup reached toward him.

“You did your best, Bud,” he said. “This was an enemy we didn’t see coming at all. But we know now. And we’ll learn.”

[liljaspie]

= Warnings =

Drug use

Cursing

" Can We Get Out Of Here ? "

// S T A R T\\

"Is this poetic or just cruel?" Jasper asked staring in the mirror with a deflated expression.

"Both if you squint." Medu mumbled from across the room. As always the green haired woman was sprawled out on her bed naked. True to her nudist ways even in the midst of three of the most hormonal people she'd ever had the displeasure of knowing.

"Why are you bitching? Fucking spoiled little prick, you're lucky Sarah isn't shoving you into a dress and forcing you into a wig." Daniel cussed glaring at the other who did nothing but helplessly look between him and the naked girl. A silent plead for help.

While Jasper blinked in morse code Daniel dug through the drawers for a brush. When he found it he tossed it at his siblings head with dead accuracy. It bounced with a dull thud and a wimpy yelp of pain. "Comb your goddamn hair!"

Medu sighed in a way that sounded like a hiss and Jasper inhaled with an unintentional snarl. "Come here babes." The green girl beckoned seeing the rising irritation in the other by the look on their pale face.

The black haired victim stood with a dragging stumble in their step. It took longer than it should've to cross the room, but when they reached the bed, Jasper didn't hesitate to fall face first onto the bed and it's many blankets with the brush clutched loosely in their hand.

The tanned girl let a soft chuckle rumble out of her. It vibrated the bed just enough to make the tired being look over at her. A note of they were trying, even if all it was, was trying.

"Give me the brush and get over here." Her command was followed without argument. Jasper lied with their head on Medu's thigh as the other ran the brush through the dyed black locks.

If a human could purr the ravenette probably would be in that moment. The bed was soft, Medu's skin was warm, and smelled like honeysuckle. Though their muscles tensed when Daniel once again made himself known. "We've only got an hour, you still need to figure out if the fucking suit fits at all." He pointed an accusing finger at Jasper.

A sigh was heard, once again with an unintentional snarl that made Medu raise her brow. "What?"

"I-I" A mumble. "I don't want to go Mei." Pale arms found themselves around the green haired girls waist. An action to insinuate how heavy the sentence was.

"It's just your family Jay-Jay."

"That's the problem." A bitter remark.

"I guess it is.. It shouldn't last long?"

"Knowing my brother he's going to pay for a stripper and spend the whole night degrading me to her."

"A couple of big steps back in therapy?"

"It'll be a miracle if I stay sober for more than an hour, even more of one if I don't get into a fist fight with Daniel or a brawl with a stranger."

Medu gave Jasper a pitious look. An almost hurt one, the ravenette had promised again and again they wouldn't get into fights, but life was short, and Jasper was an asshole.

"Get up dumbass, get dressed your brother is about to pop a blood vessel, and not one of his." Hadrian spoke from the doorway, his tone was light, his eyes were red, and his beard was perfect.

When they didn't move Hadrian walked over and picked them up by their feet. "Hades what are you doing-?" A question answered a few seconds later when Jasper was lifted off the bed dangling off of the mans back. "Put me down."

Hadrian had a look of contemplation. "Get dressed."

"Put me down."

"Get dressed."

"How?"

"That's a you problem bud, get dressed."

Their face was red from hanging upside down. There wasn't much time for the poorly circulated ravenette before they stopped feeling their legs. It was awkward and uncomfortable, the way Jasper practically had to do crunches to put on the shirt. A concussion was probable from the way Hadrian dropped them, suddenly letting go of their calves and doing a gravity check.

"You look handsome Jay." Medu spoke from the bed.

Jasper rolled their eyes and tied their tie looking in the mirror to give the green haired girl a half hearted glare. "I always look handsome love,"

"JASP-" Daniel appeared in the doorway red in the face ready to scream. "-OH you're dressed, get in the car it's almost time to go." It wasn't kindness or joy, just a less angry tone that allowed the ravennette to follow their blonde brother.

"Bye babes." Medu spoke still sitting on the bed.

"See you sweets." Jasper responded pulling the door closed behind them as Hadrian walked out.

×

The ride was long and boring. The same street signs and buildings that were always there.

×

The music in the club was loud, the lights were neon, and the dancers were naked. "Jay baby! Where you been these past couple months?" A woman with dreads asked leaning against the bar.

"I told you I was going to Paris for awhile."

"Yeah, but I didn't think you'd actually go! Where'd you even get the cash for that?" She asked with a slight smile on her face.

"Work, I have a job Karma."

"Do you?" She mumbled mostly to herself. 'Must've been the other guy..' Could've been heard faintly under her breath. She cleared her throat. "Wheres Corbin?"

"With Big Danny over at the chocolate fountain." Jasper spoke both mournful and glad to be free of the interaction.

Hadrian had snuck up on them, or rather, had been standing there giggling to himself at the cousin and cousin interaction. "Soo, why did you bring me here?" He had spoken curiously raising his brow at his adopted sibling.

"You're more family than anyone else in this building." A response made by the black sheep of the family. A less known, less liked, less confident person.

"Pfft, yeah, I'm pretty sure I heard your cousins yelling your deadname when we walked in."

"Fucking Kie." Jasper muttered not missing a beat when they turned on their heal and ordered two vodka shots. Hadrian followed asking for two more, they were added to the tab.

"So glum you're going to drink your way to heaven? What's wrong? They missed you, they threw you a party, buck up." He spoke leaning back with his elbows against the oak bar.

"Half of these people don't know my name, the other half haven't seen me fully clothed- Ever."

The man quirked his brow. "How, I'm sorry, how is that bad?"

"Because, these are my people!" As they spoke they lifted their arms in a would-be joyous gesture. Though their arms fell limp and they slouched forward on the bar. "But my family is here too."

"So what?"

"My judgemental, heteronormative, never forget a thing, family is here."

"I'm still not seeing the issue Jaspie."

"I bring great shame and dishonor to my family, and they willingly came to my world, to crush it." Hadrian immediately brushed off their comment.

"Nahh, I refuse to believe they mean anything but good." He spoke putting his hands on Jaspers shoulders so they'd look at him. The gesture worked, and the other had leaned their head back to frown at him.

The ravenette then turned around, and patted the mans cheek. "They aren't good like you." As this sank in, between both of them two glasses clunked against the bar. They were gone as soon as they hit the oak- "Salud." A comment made in synchronicity.

"Wheres Nickolas anyway, he's practically your twin with how much you two copy eachother." A change of pace and an intentional deflection by Hadrian himself.

Jasper just sighed and ran a hand through their hair. "He's still in Paris, we got into a fight, he's staying with his boyfriend."

"Oh. What- No! Nevermind you need a drink, soooo-" The man knocked on the bar adding a couple more dollars to his tab. "Six shots for the lovely nonbinary."

The sound of scuffling and glass lightly hitting oak echoed in Jaspers head. "Hey.. Hades.. Can-uh Can we get out of here?"

Hadrian raised his brow but nodded knocking back one of the shots before he slid off the barstool. "Sure.. Home-?

Jasper shook their head quickly. "No, no, I don't want to go back there yet.. Daniel will find me." It took a few seconds before an idea of where to go came up. "Let's climb to the roof of the library."

"We haven't done that since we were kids Jasp." Hadrian responded looking at the other. "Are you that uncomfortable?" His brow had furrowed with concern. He soon caved however at the way the other fidgeted. "Jesus, fine. Fine. Let's go. Get you out of here."

The sigh of relief was the only thing Hadrian needed to convince himself he was doing the right thing. They left the club, sneaking their way through the crowd and snagging a few beers.

The walk was nostalgic, the first time back home in years, with their best friend by their side. The gentle hum of Hades Lofi music keeping them both calm in their slight haze.

The feeling of thick boots hitting asphalt, and the ever so faint sound of the loose shoelaces clacking against it resonated with them both. "How long has it been?"

Hadrian looked at Jasper with a mix of confusion and concern. "Since what?"

"How long has it been since the last time we did this?" The lump building in their throat made the words seem a bit heavier.

"Four years."

"Four?"

"Yes, that's how time and math work dumbass."

"You should know I flunked every math class I've ever taken."

"I do know, dumbass."

"Alright.. Why did you decide to come tonight?"

"Your neice wanted you to show her your old music, and I missed you fuckface."

"The metal bands? She doesn't want to hear those." Jasper had a confused look ob their face.

"She loves them actually. Kind of obsessed with it, it blows my mind.."

"I'll make a playlist for her tomorrow then.. Tonight however, Uncle Jay Jay is going to get hammered and probably jump off a roof."

"Plausible deniability." Hadrian spoke lifting up his bottle of bud light.

Jasper took a swig of the drink and swished it in their mouth for a second. "Is that the lirbary?"

"Yeah, it's been abandoned since senior year." The man had spoke.

"I missed too much."

"You came back though."

"I left too.. Do you think Lauren will ever forgive me?"

"I'm not sure if she'll ever get out of jail Jasp.." Hadrian spoke with a bitter tone in his voice. "She an addict... and not one that wants to recover."

"Yeah but so was I Hades.."

"I know.. but drop it? Please."

The conversation had ended there. On that somber note. Three childhood friends who didn't know eachother like they used to. Who weren't the same kids they grew up with. Tonight was the last night they'd probably see eachother. A last ditch effort to stay connected even though they had nothing in common.

Hadrian despite his childhood of gun threats and abuse wanted to live peacefully, legally.

Jasper partook in drugs, sex, and car theft. They were a prostitute and a thief. They were hated, and unlike Hades, they didn't have the spine to fight against the stereotype.

Lauren, was your run of the mill depressed kid. Only she wasn't a kid anymore, and her coping mechanism became an addiction.

"Jasper."

"Yeah?"

"How the fuck are we going to get up there?"

= E N D =

Uh, end I guess? I don't love how this was written, but, better than it could be-?

[jenmedsbookreviews]

So. You will all be delighted to learn that I survived my two day meeting. So did my management team so that’s nice. For them. For now … Other momentous achievements in the week, as there have been few I have to be brutally honest, I achieved the ‘Approved’ badge on Netgalley where in one day I doubled my auto approval status from two to four publishers. Go me. exciting times ahead.

Or something.

In more exciting news, for the first time since around Christmas, I received book post. Not one book. Not even two books. Four books! Yes folks, four lovely jubbly books. I am beside myself with excitement. Well I am beside the cat who is lying across my feet as I work on my laptop, but if I rename her ‘Myself with Excitement’ then I am strictly not lying. It is harder to remember than Luna and in all honesty she doesn’t look exactly impressed, but I’m sure with time we’ll both get used to it. It’s more polite than the names I usually call her when she bounces off my head at three in the morning.

But you probably aren’t interested in my domestic arrangements so I’ll tell you about the books instead. First up was a double header from Orenda, two books I am very excited about reading. One was We Were The Salt Of The Sea by Roxanne Bouchard, the second, and this induced a small amount of bounciness to be fair, was Keeper by Johana Gustawsson. I know right? Super happy book blogger over here then. I also received two more books, no less exciting than the first two, in the shape of Evidence of Death by Peter Ritchie and Kate Riordan’s The Stranger, although technically that one is for Mandie who is taking part in the blog tour on behalf of Jen Med’s.

Aren’t they pretty? I’ve concluded that book post is like buses. You wait for weeks then loads come along at once. I am going to assume the bus/bookpost union is going to declare a strike agin now for a few weeks but it was fun while it lasted. Not to be deterred, and because it would be a shame not to use my new found auto-approved statuses, I may have downloaded a few books from the old Netgalley. Purely for blog tours – lets not go mad now.

I found it absolutely necessary to pick up the following treats: Found Drowned by BK Duncan; The Craftsman by Sharon Bolton; The Pact by SE Lynes and The Little Cottage On The Hill by Emma Davies. Blog tours books. Each and every one, I swear.

Depending on your point of view (i.e. whather or not you own Amazon) I’ve been pretty good purchase wise this week. Sort of. Just a few new preorders and books I realised I hadn’t preordered that i should have. You know? The essentials. First up was Blue Night by Simone Buchholz; a Quick Reads title – Clean Break by Tammy Cohen; Killer On The Run and Hidden Agenda by MA Comley; Finders Keepers by KT Finch and White Lies by Lucy Dawson.

A couple of audible purchase may have fell into my shopping basket too. This Is How It Ends by Eva Dolan; The Wicked Cometh by Laura Carlin; The Silent Wife by Kerry Fisher.

Lots of road trips coming up. I need the company. As I was quite bogged down with meetings this week, I’ve been struggling with the reading. Still managed to clear a few, and fluffing good reads they were too. One confused the fluff out of me mind as the central family’s name was Lucas, the character had and Aunt Jenny (Lucas) and her father was Patrick (Pat). Pat happens to have been my mother’s name. Talk about yer deja vu moments …

Books I Have Read

Perfect Death – Helen Fields

There’s no easy way to die…

Unknown to DI Luc Callanach and the newly promoted DCI Ava Turner, a serial killer has Edinburgh firmly in his grip. The killer is taking his victims in the coldest, most calculating way possible – engineering slow and painful deaths by poison, with his victims entirely unaware of the drugs flooding their bloodstream until it’s too late.

But how do you catch a killer who hides in the shadows? A killer whose pleasure comes from watching pain from afar? Faced with their most difficult case yet, Callanach and Turner soon realise they face a seemingly impossible task…

The third book in the Luc Callanach series, I’ll be reviewing this as part of the blog tour this time next week. perhaps slightly slower in pace than the others, or maybe that was just me, it was no less tense nad the risks for Luc and Eva as high as ever. You can order your own copy right here.

…

The Reunion – Samantha Hayes

They were all there the day your sister went missing. Who is lying? Who is next?

THEN – In charge of her little sister at the beach, Claire allowed Eleanor to walk to the shop alone to buy an ice cream. Placing a coin into her hand, Claire told her to be quick, knowing how much she wanted the freedom.

Eleanor never came back.

NOW – The time has finally come to sell the family farm and Claire is organising a reunion of her dearest friends, the same friends who were present the day her sister went missing.

When another girl disappears, long-buried secrets begin to surface. One of the group hides the darkest secret of them all…

This is it. The book that confused me. Doesn’t take much. Tense and littered with secrets, this book gripped me from the off, taking only a few hours to devour. My review will be published soon but you can preorder your own copy here.

…

The Collector – Fiona Cummins

Jakey escaped with his life and moved to a new town. His rescue was a miracle but his parents know that the Collector is still out there, watching, waiting . . .

Clara, the girl he left behind, dreams of being found. Her mother is falling apart but she will not give up hope.

The Collector has found an apprentice to take over his family’s legacy.  But he can’t forget the one who got away and the detective who destroyed his dreams.

DS Etta Fitzroy must hunt him down before his obsession destroys them all.

I have been sitting on this book (not literally) since the summer, promising myself I would read it, but thinking I should wait a little closer to publication. I loved Rattle. Could The Collector leave me with the same feeling? Well, you’ll find out very soon when I publish my review but you can order your own copy for Kindle right now. Hardback is out in a couple of weeks and can be ordered here.

…

Quick Reads: Inspector Chopra and the Million Dollar Motor Car – Vaseem Khan

An enchanting Baby Ganesh Agency short story: a million-dollar car is missing. Chopra has two days to find it, or the gangster who bought it will not be happy.

The Premier No.1 Garage is the place to go in Mumbai if you want a luxury car. Even Mumbai’s biggest gangster shops there – he’s just ordered a classic race car worth millions.

But now the car is gone. Stolen from a locked room, in the middle of the night.

Who stole it? The mechanic who is addicted to gambling? The angry ex-worker? The car thief pulling off one last job?

And how on earth did they make it vanish from the locked garage?

Inspector Chopra has just days to find the culprit – and the missing car – before its gangster owner finds out … and takes violent revenge.

Does exactly what it says on the tin. About an hours worth of a very fun Chopra and Ganesha adventure here which had me chuckling and smiling. If you love the series as I do, you won’t want to miss out so you can orders your own copy here. If you haven’t read any Chopra books, it’s a really goo taster of what you are missing.

…

Quick Reads: Cut Off – Mark Billingham

Step into a thrilling Quick Read from number one bestselling crime fiction author Mark Billingham. It’s the moment we all fear: losing our phone, leaving us cut off from family and friends. But, for Louise, losing hers in a local café takes her somewhere much darker.

After many hours of panic, Louise is relieved when someone gets in touch offering to return the phone. From then on she is impatient to get back to normal life.

But when they meet on the beach, Louise realises you should be careful what you wish for…

Another quick read title but one which will certainly make you stop and think about how over connected we are to our phones and technology and what happens when you lose it. Do you also lose sight of the danger right in front of your eyes if only viewing the world through the sight on your camera phone? You can order your own copy here.

…

That was it. Not too much, not too shabby. Probably just right all things considered. I had a pretty full on week on the blog as well, sticking to my resolution of cutting back and posting every day …

Bloody Scotland: Stars of Scottish crime writing to get bloody in Kolkata

Guest Review: Dancing Over The Hill by Cathy Hopkinsths

Review: The Legacy by Yrsa Sigurdardottir

#BlogTour: Little Liar by Clare Boyd

#BlogTour: We Own The Sky by Luke Allnutt

#BlogTour: Black Heart by Anna-Lou Weatherley

#BlogTour: Dark Angel by Helen Durrant

Cover Reveal: Rachel Amphlett – Kay Hunter is back … soon

No so busy week coming up but still managed to shoe-horn in a couple of blog tours with Killed by Thomas Enger on Wednesday, Blue Night by Simone Buchholz on Friday and The Lying Kind by Alison James on Saturday.

This week is a bit mixed. Health and Safety meeting tomorrow morning (boo hiss) followed by the afternoon off and a trip down to London for First Monday Crime (yay!!!!!!). Back to Londinium on Wednesday as I am visiting a unit but otherwise I will be desk bound, no doubt messing with something in excel. I usually am and as month end has been and gone while I was in other meetings, I have quite a bit to catch up on. My life is so glam. Not. Did manage to book tickets for the Orenda Roadshow in Warwick in a couple of weeks though, so not all bad.

Have a fabulous week all. See you on the other side.

Jen

  Rewind, recap: Weekly update w/e 04/02/18 So. You will all be delighted to learn that I survived my two day meeting. So did my management team so that's nice.

[jihyetxt-blog]

if you ask her she’ll say she’s no evil, followed by a “but i’m no saint, either”. in this world, you’re taught it’s either right or wrong, things have to be black or white. but they’re wrong, they’re so wrong darling. and whether it is on purpose or not, they’re making a fool out of you. most things in this world aren’t black or white, they’re a distinctive shade of grey, per se. a lighter or darker one, that depends on each element. everybody sins and everybody does good, you’re bound to do things you’ll regret in a few years from now and you’ll perform acts of kindness. maybe humans should be taught that some people, some situations have a few extra drops of black paint, and others, in the other hand, have ounces of white tint poured into them. ahn jihye, though, is a complicate shade of grey, a middle point between black and white that would sprout an endless fight; some will argue with you that she’s one hundred percent a darker grey, and shortly after you’ll see the fools trying to refute said theory. what they don’t know is: the neutral grey jihye is will lean more towards black or white depending on the situation you meet her. she’s a transient grey, always flowing, never the same.

she’s a fresh wave of air in the middle of august, the type that gives you goosebumps and makes the hairs in your skin perk up, prickling in your skin with a pinch of rush. she’s as lively as summer, always daring to rival its vivacity. she’ll play around and tease you for the fun of it, humour you a little. she’s as approachable and extrovert and young, though, she defeats summer in reliability; the season is like a firework, once the last sparks reach the night sky, it’s over, you’ll never see one like it again. and though jihye resembles firework, her reliability doesn’t have an expiration date, but the sound of a glass breaking into a thousand tiny pieces instead. it’s up to you when the last sparkles that form jihye will caress your nights. she’s not an open book, will never be, but she has an open mind, and that’s more valuable than exposing your deepest, most sacred thoughts to someone you don’t genuinely care about. enigmas have always been more fun, anyway. summer is fun, summer is never knowing what’s going to happen, not knowing what to expect. summer is freedom, not giving a single fuck, enjoying yourself without thinking about the consequences. and that’s ahn jihye in her lightest shade.

she loves a simple life, and yet, at the same time, she adores the wealth she was born into. she loves wearing a pair of jean and a t-shirt, but she adores to clad her thin frame in a satin dress from ralph & russo’s latest collection with a pair of high heels just as expensive and a glass of quality champagne in her hand. she loves the refined meetings she has to attend with her family, but she adores the idea of picking up a small barbecue and eating meat and drinking cheap soju somewhere in the dark nights of seoul. she loves and adores the unfair easy life she was gifted with, and simultaneously, loves and adores the mundane sides of it.

but oh, sweetheart, god knows damn well she’s full of sins. there’s a force inside of her asking for release and she’s always happy to grant it freedom. there’s something about tempting luck and the law that gets her spirit going; she’s a bird urging for release, and she likes no cages. you’ll see her mumbling how she doesn’t like the police, and you may witness her testing her fortune by challenging a policeman (or anything and anyone that hints law), but if you ask her why, she won’t be able to say more than “i just, don’t”. but i’ll tell you here: the police are part of the law, and in her eyes, they can cut off her wings. it’s simple, and yet so silly. here’s another secret about jihye she insists on denying: she can be too easy to influence, and if you trigger her rebellious vein, it can be so dangerous, and so untamed, but so, so much fun. she won’t kill, and she won’t rob a bank, she won’t do anything of the rightfully so illegal things, but if you lead her, she may try weed with you, hesitant about addictive and stronger drugs for sure. she’s not dumb, she has a limit. she may help you steal something small, something insignificant that could get both of you in trouble, or running away, whatever it may be. she will make out with you at church for the sake of pissing off people. god, the shot of adrenaline running through her insides and the cold shiver running up her spine until it bites tiny kisses onto the nape of her neck. she knows she’s bad, and she loves every bit of it. she’s such a brat, she will talk back and argue with you and do the right opposite of what you want her to. she’s the person you call at two o’clock in the morning and have knocking on your door at half past two ready to hang out; eat ramen and simply walk or cause disturbance, it’s up to you. she likes a little adventure, a little bit of chaos to trigger the rush in her veins. fun never killed nobody; a small dose of chaos keeps youth alive. she’s a free spirit and there’s no way to cage her in.

swear and bet your own life that jihye is rancorous. and prideful. and that’s the worst concoction you could ever ask for. she will never forget, hardly will ever forgive, and she won’t go after you chasing your tail. she will suck it up, be in pain if she has to, but label yourself as lucky if she ever even thinks about swallowing her pride for you. and don’t play with her again, because miracles hardly take place, and they only happen once. fuck up with her once? consider forgetting about her forever. she can be so possessive it’s venom in her blood, toxic for herself but not for anyone else; she wouldn’t stop anyone’s freedom, that’d give them the right to stop hers. not even in hell.

love is a thorny topic. it’s something she yearns for, yet something she doesn’t chase. she may tempt her luck with the law, but getting caught executing illegal actions won’t make her end up with a broken heart; falling in love, will. the amount of tears she has seen strolling down the cheeks of her friends, of her own sister, dampening the fabric covering her shoulders, are a sign love can hurt you in the worst of ways, and that’s not worth anyone’s time. or at least, that’s how jihye sees it. why would she risk opening her heart to someone who would crush it in a matter of seconds? is it really worth that much? is love that essential? she will surely flirt with you, play along and entertain you, but she won’t fall in love, she’ll be damned if she did. she doesn’t love you, you won’t get married and live happily ever after; she’s passing the time, killing it while having fun. i wonder what it would take to win her heart. whoever does, i hope they realize they have a treasure hard to get in their hands.

though, lust isn’t as thorny. it doesn’t take place often, and you will most likely not know when it happens, or if at all. it’s a sporadic activity, a little naughty secret in the back of her wardrobe. it’s a natural instinct, you can’t blame her. you can’t blame anyone. sex with no strings attached can be just as fun, and that’s something jihye has experienced. kisses with no more meaning that the need of soothing the fire igniting in the pit if your stomach, in the branches around your lungs. no sweet words, no hearts bound to break. just kisses and hands roaming bodies and hickeys. she doesn’t flaunt about it, even sporadic and stringless affairs can be a secret. it feels better, tastes better. she’s good (as good as someone like her can be, anyway) but she has such a dirty mind, and she isn’t ashamed of it one bit. sue her for being a sexual being, you may as well sue yourself in the way to fill up the form.

she’s the personification of vanity. too vain, too aware of her appareance, and not one bit scared to flaunt it. she’s confident with herself, she knows you think she’s attractive, and she wants you to know that she’s both aware of you and her. no one will ever love her as much as she loves herself. it’s true. not because she’s too full of herself, but because self-love is important, and a woman who loves herself is probably one of the most beautiful things. and you’re allowed to showcase it in any way you wish to. the way she chooses to is by being cheeky, brazen.

there’s a storm inside of her, and it won’t see the light of day anytime soon. everybody has secrets. there are parts of ourselves we don’t want others to find out, be it shame, fear or need of privacy. in jinhye’s case, though, it’s the second option. nobody can find out. she can’t tell anyone. how could she when she can’t even tell her parents? not even her sister is aware. she doesn’t want to be labelled as a mistake, or become a taboo in her household, or worse: be shamed, degraded and insulted for something she cannot control. she didn’t choose bisexuality. she wouldn’t wish to change in fear of her parents, either. she’s proud of it, she’s proud of every bit of herself, just── let her hide it a little bit longer, until there’s no more fear, or until shit hits the fan.

is she a contradiction? maybe, yeah. i think of her as one sometimes. what she surely is, is an enigma, a two thousand pieces puzzle, an equation hard to break. she’s a strange grey of shade. what kind of grey is this complicated, though?