#anyway im going to wind down from those fifteen minutes of panic and. try to clean while my roommates are out i think

[bravevolunteer]

every day i do something so fucking stupid

[lemonysharkbait]

Code of the Hills

Tianshan fanfic, au set in the Ozark region of the U.S. 

“Where’s your partner Red?”Guan Shan reigned in his panic a second too late and Click ate it up with a shit eating grin. The pain when it came was delayed, one blessing of being too fucked to walk straight enough if he wanted to. Guan Shan spit a mouth full of blood straight into Click’s leering face. Guan Shan knew his eye would be swollen for a week. If he made it past tonight.

- Warnings: Drug use, violence, dirty cops, lots of cursing, angst -

Read on OA3 for more notes

Guan Shan lapped at the blood pouring from his nose. He couldn’t taste shit, not with his gums numb and Click telling him to take another bump.

“This is Grade A shit Red. Where’d you say you get it from ‘gain?”

Guan Shan took the offered bump – his third in the about fifteen minutes he had been with Click in this fucking dingy-ass laughable excuse for a backroom at the local watering hole. He hadn’t had this much coke in years and it was already fucking with him, just like Click wanted it to.

“Told you being a cop came with perks.” Guan Shan turned and hocked a wad of blood and snot onto the floor.

Click laughed and hit Guan Shan between the shoulder blades with an open-palmed slap that was just north of friendly. “Get this man a whiskey.”

“Did’n think you’d come back te this place Red.” 

Guan Shan nodded to the women who proffered him a whiskey and took a gulp.

“Ever the polite man. Sam’s got tits from here to tomorrow and you’re on better behavior than the priest during Sunday service.” Click dropped his voice “Ne’ver believed ‘em but you don’t do yourself no favors Red.”

Guan Shan sucked at his teeth. “Saving myself for Jesus.”

Click burst out into a laughing fit. “Got’ damn Red. You haven’t changed a bit.” He played with the bag of coke idly. “So you got more of this shit?”

“More and then some.” Guan Shan nodded and pulled out a cigarette. He could feel his fingers going unsteady and his words slurring, tongue refusing to cooperate. 

Click smiled and it was deadly. “Sure thing Red. Sounds like we have some stuff to talk about. Why don’t you come back with us? We’ll drive you.”

Guan Shan didn’t respond. Just lit his cigarette and let the group of good ‘ol boys half push, half pull him out of the backroom, bantering like old friends, smiling like sharks. He was manhandled out of the bar and into the dark parking lot, shoved into a truck and closed behind the thunk of American steel. 

-

He Tian sat nursing his beer. A tittering group out on a girl’s night tried to grab his attention for a little while but his best sad and broken act had them off and dancing. He was alone with those words playing through his head.

They’re gonna take me to the back. They won’t do anything at the bar so just go in a little while after me. Keep your damn head down. I mean it. No flirting, no stories, no chatting up the locals. No one can remember you were there. You need to be forgettable. Just wait and blend in. They’ll take me to Click’s place. 

Follow without them knowing. Shouldn’t be too hard, they’ll be fucked up and won’t be expecting you. Then it’s your call. I don’t know how many there will be. If you can get the situation under control, do it. But if not just leave me. Finding out where this guy is based is more important. 

They did come out, just like Guan Shan said. He Tian shrunk as best he could into the corner. Guan Shan’s copper eyes were bloodshot and he was stumbling. The group was rowdy, shoving him with a little too much joy. A cajoling on the sharp edge of vicious. A smear of blood decorated Guan Shan’s upper lip and his pupils were pinpoints.

He Tian waited until they were through the door before slipping out. He caught sight of Guan Shan being shoved into a beater pickup with truck nuts. Gritting his teeth, he willed himself to wait. It wouldn’t do Guan Shan any good to tip them off. 

The drive was easy, following the road as it dipped and rose, hemmed in by the thick woods broken only by sudden bursts of sheer white limestone breaking through at odd angles, ragged and proud. 

The moon was out and bright enough that He Tian could keep his headlights off and follow at a distance. They drove fast so it was easy to see they were turning when they slowed in a sudden tire-squealing crawl. The sides of their cars brushed the undergrowth creeping over everything.

So this was it. Asscrack of nowhere. Cicadas called out in an unending whine.

-

Guan Shan didn’t even try to catalogue where they were. He was too fucked up and anyways, Click was twitchy in a way that didn’t bode well for Guan Shan’s health.

They turned onto some hidden road and crawled through a winding path before the trucks stopped outside a meth den. The house was probably nice enough at one point. Dogs barked from somewhere and someone was yanking Guan Shan out of his seat. He was manhandled inside past a living room with a flickering TV into the kitchen. 

“Feel like home Red?”

Guan Shan grimaced. “Don’t see why you dragged me here for.”

Click laughed. “You can stop playing dumb boy. This is some goodass shit you brought me, so I’ll thank you for that little gift. But there’s no fucking way that’s what you came out here all the way into the goddamn boones for.”

Guan Shan let one of Click’s men pull his arms behind him and zip tie them together by the wrist. He was too tired and sideways feeling. If he was going to get the shit kicked out of him anyways he might as well cooperate enough to prolong the inevitable. 

“See’in as you aren’t saying nothing I’m gonna go out on a big-ass limb and say you agree?” Click said.

Guan Shan didn’t respond.

Click grunted out a laugh and kicked a metal chair over to Guan Shan. “Take a seat Red.”

With a hard stare fixed on Click, Guan Shan set his jaw and sat slowly.

“That’s a good boy. I didn’t think you’d go so easy. You’re either a complete dumbass or you have a death wish.” Click turned to the one guy who had followed them in, a big motherfucker bulked up from beers and red meat. “Tape ‘im down.” 

The brute grabbed a roll of duct tape off the gritty counter and dutifully taped each leg to a leg of the chair and ran a few around Guan Shan’s chest and the chair back for good measure. The rip of duct tape and a whining light filled a tense silence. 

It had been too long since he’d said something, but it was so hard to form words. The world swam and Guan Shan’s heart beat uncomfortably hard in his chest, urged to flutter faster than hummingbird wings by uppers that felt worse than one too many cups of coffee. 

Click walked forward and leaned in close, the smell of stale cigarettes hitting Guan Shan’s nostrils like a mule kick to the chest.

“Where’s your partner Red?” 

Guan Shan reigned in his panic a second too late and Click ate it up with a shit eating grin.

The pain when it came was delayed, one blessing of being too fucked to walk straight enough if he wanted to. Guan Shan spit a mouth full of blood straight into Click’s learing face. Guan Shan knew his eye would be swollen for a week. If he made it past tonight.

“Oh there it is. There’s our red-headed devil.” Click hacked out a deep laugh that turned into a coughing fit as he wiped the blood off his face with a black paisley handkerchief. Guan Shan glared as best he could and Click just leaned against the counter and lit a cigarette. Silence settled in.

“Bum me a square.” The words came gravely out of Guan Shan’s mouth but he was satisfied that his voice didn’t waver.

Click just laughed again, “I ain’t sitt’en here holding a smoke for you.”

“Gimme another bump then.”

Click’s expression turned sour. “You wanna be high for this Red? You’re a little shit, you know that? ‘Course you know that.” Click leaned forward. “You didn’ think we’d figure out you was with the DEA because you’re,” Click punctuated his words with a well-placed kick, “a dumbass,” another heel kick, the leather of his boots catching the ridges of Guan Shan’s ribs, “‘lil shit.” There was a special type of venom in the last word and the final kick that punctuated it was straight to Guan Shan’s gut.

Whatever was left in Guan Shan’s stomach came up onto the yellowing linoleum floor. The metal chair squealed halfway across the kitchen with the kicks.

Click looked pissed. “You can sing now or later, I don’t give a fuck Red. But we’re gonna get every little bit of information out of your dumb ass about why the fuckin’ DEA is out in the fuckin’ boones bothern’ us good folk.” Click placed his lit cigarette between his lips, nubby yellow crack teeth showing for a moment before he folded his arms and grimaced. “But first we have some other business.” 

Click’s gaze flicked up to the mountain of a man that had been idly standing by like he was at a particularly boring church service. Guan Shan’s heart sank.

“Go out there and find ‘im.” 

Guan Shan was knee deep into his next lie before he could think about it too hard, stemming panic from working its way in. 

“Fuck off Click. I knew you’d be cautious but this is fuck’in overkill. That coke’s real, how’d you think I get it? Ask the DEA all polite-like? Fuck-off man. It’s just you ‘in me and you’re sending Brick House here out there to crash around in the dark chasing after shadows. You’ve been hitt’in the pipe too hard. Melt’n you’re brain and shit.”

Click seemed to consider Guan Shan for a moment and his tall lackey hung between leaving and staying, waiting for the verdict.   

“So you admittin’ you’re with the DEA Red?” He took a deep inhale of his cigarette, the cherry lighting up with an audible crackling sound.

“Yeah. How’d you think I get this stuff? We busted couple hundred pounds of the shit I brought you tonight. And no one checks on it after it’s been logged. Everyone in that department is dipp’in into the shit we grab. Usually just for recreational purposes. But I can get you set up with a ‘lil bit here and there. Weed. Crack. Coke. Party pills. We get the big hauls ‘cause we go after the distributors. And there’s extra in it for you if you can give me some tips every once ‘n awhile.” 

Guan Shan wasn’t surprised by the fist that connected with his face. He was really gonna look like shit once all this was through. 

“You got’ damn motherfucker!” Click fisted his shirt, dragging him and the metal chair forward with a horrendous squeal against the floor.

“Did you just ask me to become an informant for the fucking cops? After everything I’ve done for you Red? Gave you a fuck’in home? Took you in? Then you go dissapear’n and we think you’re dead.” Click was really yelling now, his spit spraying over Guan Shan’s face. “We spilled blood over you Red. And then you show up fifteen-fucking years later looking like the day you disappeared and you have the fuckin’ balls to just think you gonna be welcome back here? You’re dead to us, Red.” 

Click turned to mountain man. “Find his fucking partner. He’s lurk’in out there somewhere in the woods.”

“Wait, no, Click I’ll tell you whatever the fuck you want but if he’s out there he’s just look’in for me. He don’ know nothin and it’s not gonna help you much to have to deal with two of us. You’re gon’ have a harder time covern’ up two miss’in people. He ain’t even from around here and you know who they’ll start com’in after first.” 

“Oh I know alright,” Click growled and brought his knee up hard into Guan Shan “I know ‘cause you’re here and we seen you come into town.”

Guan Shan was spluttering for breath, gasping, winded as he remembered the fucking truck stop. He Tian kissing him in the beat up Toyota and Guan Shan unwilling to push him off. Static of a station on the radio going in and out and crumpled chip bags crunching as He Tian leaned over the armrest. 

Click stilled and Guan Shan lost the thread. Click had flicked open a knife large enough to skin a deer but before Guan Shan could tense the knife was cutting him free from the chair and Click was hauling Guan Shan to his feet.

The knife was back into Click’s pocket before Guan Shan could process what the hell was happening and he shoved roughly out onto the front porch. Moths and June bugs flew through the muggy air outside, circling the porch light. Guan Shan heard the cold click of Click’s gun as he cocked it and pressed the cool metal to the side of Guan Shan’s head. 

“Come on out ‘for I splatter your partner’s brains all over my porch.” Click yelled the words into the darkness beyond the porch.

Guan Shan squeezed his eyes shut and grit his teeth. Keep to the plan. Keep to the plan. Start your mother fucking car and get out of here. Get out of here. 

His prayers were in vain though. He Tian emerged into the porch light silently, hands up.

–

It had been quiet, which was good. Most of the group had broken off to go party somewhere or pick up more beer and drugs, obviously bored by having their night of partying cut short. That left Click with another giant of a man inside. Easy. He just had to wait for the right moment to get Guan Shan the fuck out of there. 

He Tian made a loop of the house, quietly checking if the back door was unlocked or if any windows were open. The house was locked up but again, it wouldn’t be a problem. He just had to wait for one of them to come out for a smoke or grab something from their car. 

It was too risky to just break in. He Tian settled in and listened. His fingers itched for a cigarette. He could hear the muffled voice of Click talking. That was good too. Hopefully that’s all they were doing, talking. 

He Tian’s first indication that things had gone south was the sound of metal squealing and Click yelling. Someone grunted and retched, a wet splattering sound punctuated by coughs and gasps. He Tian saw red. Breath. Breath. Stay calm and wait. You’ll put him in more danger if you break in now. 

He Tian wanted to move, adrenaline beating a tattoo against his veins. He was shaking with it. He Tian dug his nails against his palm, trying to distract his body from the need to move. It was a beat too late when he noticed things had gone quiet. 

The front door burst open and He Tian almost bolted for the assholes right then and there. Guan Shan was a bloody mess, barely able to stand up. His eyes were already swelling, purple bruises forming shapes Rorschach would be proud of. His dark shirt was wet with blood and the thin skin above his eyes was split and still flowing. 

But despite how much he wanted to raise his own gun and fill these fuckers with enough lead to down an elephant, he couldn’t take the chance. Not with Click pressing the muzzle of agun into Guan Shan’s bloody temple.

“Come on out ‘for I splatter your partner’s brains all over my porch.” 

He Tian walked out with his hands up. Guan Shan made a noise somewhere between anger and despair. 

He had one chance at this. One chance before the mountain of a man next to Click got to He Tian, patted him down, took his gun and then hauled He Tian inside to share in a few miserable hours as a punching bag before becoming catfish food.

“There you are pretty boy.”

He Tian showed concern, fear, anxiety. Let them mask his face. Let them make Click think he was safe.

“Din’ think I would have such a fun night! Your partner here is a fuck’in dumbass. That’s it,  nice and slow.”

He Tian kept eye contact and suddenly, with enough slipping to seem real, tripped. And there it was. With the sudden movement Click reacted before thinking, swinging his gun from Guan Shan to He Tian. 

The rest was a blur of instinct and a prayer. He Tian rolled and pulled his gun, aimed and fired. 

–

It was over fast. Guan Shan stood stock still, trying not to pull Click one way or the other. It was only after Click slumped down and the mountain man crumpled did Guan Shan realize he was splattered in blood that wasn’t his. 

It didn’t matter though because He Tian was there, his hands all over Guan Shan. A quick flick of a knife and Guan Shans hands were free. 

“You shouldn’t have done that.” 

He Tian didn’t respond, simply went about checking Guan Shan over, pulling his shirt up and grimacing at the damage splayed across Guan Shan’s body, head bowed. Guan Shan could feel He Tian’s hands shaking where they balled up in his shirt. 

“Hey, hey, come on. Let’s get out of here.” 

He Tian’s jaw clenched. “You said they wouldn’t do anything.” 

“Well I might have under calculated a few things.” 

“A few–” He Tian shuddered, cutting himself off and Guan Shan’s world swooped for a second as He Tian swung him into a bridal carry headed for the car.

“I can carry myself, hey!” He Tian had Guan Shan in the car and was around and in the driver’s seat in one swift motion. It started up on the first try and He Tian was peeling out of the gravel lot and hurtling down the dirt road. 

“Whoah, whoah, He Tian, where’s the fire? Slow the fuck down, we still gotta stay low.” 

He Tian slammed the car to the stop. His knuckles were white around the steering wheel. 

“Is it your first time? You know, doing that.” The words came out as a raspy wheeze and Guan Shan winced. He definitely had a cracked rib. 

“Yes, sweetheart, it’s my first time dragging you as a bloody pulp out from a meth house where two motherfucking shit stains were ready to carve you up for entertainment.” 

Guan Shan didn’t know why he suddenly felt like fighting but he dug his heels in. “It was our only way in, and now we know Click’s not the one who’s been mixing up the fake pain pills that have been killin’ people.”

A muscle jumped in He Tian’s jaw. The truck lurched forward. “We’re going to the hospital.”

“No we fuckin’ ain’t! Get your head on straight, He Tian, we’ve got a good half hour before the rest of Click’s ‘lil possy comes back from wherever they’ve been gettin fucked up, finds two cold bodies in the dirt and finds me not there and puts two an’ two together.” Guan Shan reached for the cigarettes He Tian kept in the cup holder. “What we’re doin’ is going back to our hotel, packin’ up our shit fast as we can, gettin’ back in this truck and driving as far away from this god forsaken place as we can.”

He Tian didn’t respond. Muggy summer air whipped around them through the open windows.

They rolled into town and Guan Shan relaxed when He Tian turned towards the motel.

“Stay here.” He Tian was out of the truck and headed into the motel before Guan Shan could say anything. He slumped into the seat and lit another cigarette. 

Back on the road, orange street lights blurred by as He Tian pushed 100 down the highway. Guan Shan was crashing hard, his whole body ached and he knew tomorrow would be worse. He lit another cigarette, too tired to do anything else, too wired to sleep. 

“You’re quitting this case.” He Tian’s voice barely rose above the hum of the car hurtling down the highway. 

“I’m not talkin’ ‘bout this right now.” 

“They could of killed you.” 

“Yeah, and they coulda killed you too. I told you this isn’t like the city. The hills have their own code and these people live by it. Ain’t anyone coming to help hill folk.”

He Tian snagged the pack of cigarettes, depositing them out of reach in his car door. “So you’ve got to, is that it?”

Guan Shan grunted. “I don’t know He Tian. I just know people are dying and I have connections here and I’m gonna use them so we can stop the son of a bitch who’s been poisoning people.”

The cover of night slipped from around them, the first hints of dawn lightening the sky. 

Guan Shan was somewhere between waking and fever dreams when He Tian spoke again.

“So what’s our next move.” 

Guan Shan cracked his left eye open, the right one was too swollen to see out of. 

“You’re sticking along with this thing? You ‘don seem like you like it much.” 

He Tian snorted as though it was obvious. “I just killed two men, Guan Shan, I should think it’s obvious that I’m in this thing.” 

Guan Shan closed his eye and hummed. “We’re headed in deep then, to a place where the rest of the world doesn’t exist. Where we’ll be alone. You ready for that?” 

“Lead the way Red.”

-

I’d love to hear your thoughts, comments, questions- tell me what you think!

[ladybugsfanfics]

Shut Up And Kiss Me [11/?]

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x reader

Style: Multichapter

WC: 2k

Warnings: mention of blackout, exstreme awkwardness, 

Summary: You and Professor Hiddleston have been colleagues for many years now, and through those years the hatred for each other has only grown. Now, as a new school year starts, you’re being told that you have to share a classroom or a class. Neither are happy about the outcome, but knowing you’ll never come to an agreement, you let the class choose for you. Team-teaching is rare in 2019, but it is a lot harder to do when you can’t stand the person you’re doing it with. 

A/N: aaaa, i have been so absent, I know. This has taken forever, but now I can promise you I’m gonna be back. Not only will this, hopefully be updated more often (I have inspiration), but I also got like a ton of writing mojo (wrote 4k words yesterday) and a Loki!Piarate au is soon done and i have other shits, my requests are becoming easier though turns out they’re getting long. Anyways, I hope this can please you and I hope to be able to post more in the coming time. I love you all so much ^_^ P.S. it’s close to christmas and a christmas party... ;)

Previous | Seires Masterlist | Part Twelve

You can’t place the feeling. Not really. All you know is that something feels… off. Wrong. 

It’s Sunday, three days since halloween and you met Emma’s friends. Even though that was fun and all, the night could have been better had you stuck with the people you know. Not only would you be able to continue to get Tom being nice (which had your heart race a mile a minute), but you could also, maybe, have more fun seeing as you wouldn’t panic everytime you said something. 

However, three days later, something feels off. You’re not even sure if it has anything to do with Halloween (if it has anything to do with Tom lending you his coat because you were barely dressed in your costume),  or if it has something to do with the fact that you have no recollection of what you did last night. 

All you know is that something is not as it should be. 

You try to shake off the feeling and reach for your phone, where it lies on your nightstand. The clock on it reads 07.39 AM and you curse your annoying drunk self for always making sure you wake up early―it’s not that you go to bed early, no rather late actually (like you gotta stay up ‘til at least 3 AM), but more that whenever you do get drunk, you actually fall asleep right away and you actually sleep. Maybe that’s the cure. 

Despite wanting to continue your slumber, you decide to get up. Maybe you can figure out what’s giving you this feeling of something being amiss. 

One slightly wrong, though not that surprising, thing lies on your couch. Y/BFF/N has their face half planted in one of your pillows, though the angle works for them to breathe. One arm hangs loosely off the couch and their legs have tangled themselves in a blanket, where one is thrown over the back of the couch. You have no idea how that can be comfortable, and you bet they’ll tell you how much they regret it when they wake up. 

Yet, you know that’s not the feeling that haunts you. Seeing your best friend crashing on your couch is not a rare sight, though it is becoming rarer as time passes. 

Nothing is amiss in your apartment. Everything where you left it when you went out last night, even the now half-full bottle of wine you opened before leaving that sits on your countertop. 

The mystery continues, but the answers are not in your apartment. One thing’s for sure, you’re not about to go out and find out. 

Before you decide to check any messages or notifications, you find a glass, fill it with water and down it in seconds. Pulling your head back you become aware of the ache in it, and with the water helping you clear your mind a little, the pounding slowly creeps into a loud drum. 

Okay, so you’re not getting away from being hungover. Good to know. 

Not being able to focus with the drums really taking off in your head, you rush to the bathroom and find aspirin. You take two and swallow them with another glass of water. It’s gonna take a little while before they help so you slide down the bathroom wall and sit there to let yourself ease into the beating that keeps interrupting your thoughts. 

It feels like it takes forever, but when you check the clock, the pounding starts to wind down a little after more or less fifteen minutes. You don’t have the energy to get up from the warmth of the bathroom floor, so you continue to sit as you open your phone. 

You have three snaps, five messenger texts, two texts and eleven missed phone calls. The phonecalls belong to three people; three from Tom (your heart skips a beat at the thought that he thinks of you), six from Benedict, and surprisingly, two from Chris. 

The two texts are one message of having voicemails (three), and one message from Tom; I heard from Benedict. He’s worried, are you okay? - Tom. You ignore it, making a note to reply and listen to the voicemails after checking messenger and snap. 

It takes three seconds to regret checking snap. Two of the snaps are from people you have no idea who are, but who you probably added last night. The last one is a video of you from Y/BFF/N embarrassing yourself to the nth degree on the dance floor. You know they saved it, and you know there is no point in asking to delete it―no matter what, you know they won’t post it anywhere. 

In a state of shock, checking messenger becomes more automated that anything else. You read the messages; one with a similar name to one of the snap usernames that you ignore and delete the friend request seeing as the message itself is not one you want; one that’s from a groupchat with you, Y/BFF/N and another mutual friend that you don’t see that often as they live abroad, but whom you trust fully and therefore has replied to your drunk texts about wanting to fuck a certain person whose name shall not be mentioned; three texts from Chris asking what’s going on, if you’re okay and if there’s anything he can do to help. You only reply to Chris’s by asking why he wonders, saying yes and asking him if he knows anything about what happened last night―you do not admit to having no memory of the evening. 

Waiting for a reply you listen to the voicemails. All three are from Benedict; one he sounds mad in, one he sounds worried in, and one he threatens to call the police and tell them that you’re missing and that you might be in danger―it feels a little weird not knowing if that actually happened. 

You sigh, blowing your hair so it falls in your face. Well, well, gotta keep searching. 

In the living room, Y/BFF/N lies in the same position as before. You ignore them, instead focusing on the low rumble from your stomach. 

Hopefully, some food will help clear the mystery. 

The food itself doesn’t help. However, the replies from Chris does. 

Chris: asking because you seemed very drunk and i wanted to know you’re okay, good that you are, and no, i don’t know since you never really gave me anything to go on

You: okay, well, there are no other messages between us, anything I did to alert you??

Chris: uhh, no, actually it was Tom that called me

You: Tom?? Hiddleston?? The dude who I teach with?? 

Chris: yeah… i was surprised too, maybe talk to him?

You: yeah, im gonna 

Of course, that’s what you tell Chris. You know, with every ounce of your body, that you will not pick up the phone and either text or call him because you know that that would be the death of you. 

You will wait, as long as you can, to ask Tom why he called Chris. The thought of it alone just has that feeling of wrongness expand. You shake it off, put away your phone and return your attention to your food. 

 --

Going into work on Monday is not on your list of fun activities, but it is something you have to do. You suppose it would have been on your list of fun if not for the looming conversation you need to have with a certain professor. 

It takes little time after your first class to meet him. Usually, your schedules don’t coincide but you guess the universe isn’t on your side today. 

“Hi.” Tom purses his lips and puts his hands in his pockets. 

You nod. “Hi.”

“How was your weekend?” he asks. 

“It was good,�� you say and nod. “You know what, I can’t really talk right now. Catch you later?” You shoot him a pained smile and hurry away before Tom can answer. There is no way you’ve ever been in a more awkward situation (and the worst part is that you don’t even know what it is that made it awkward―what the fuck did you say?!). 

You try not to think too hard about it as you make your way back to your office. With two hours of office time, you can get back to focusing on your research project and get your mind off Saturday night and your possibly very embarrassing utterance to Tom. 

God, what the fuck did you say?

It takes a solid five minutes for your mind to rush back to what’s been circling around the last twenty-four hours. 

“Okay, you know what?” you say out loud to the silence of your office. It does not reply back. However, in the need to say it out loud, you act as if it did. “I have to just ask. I’m gonna go to wherever he currently is and I’m gonna ask what I said and I’m gonna cut right to the chase and it’s gonna be alright. It’s gonna be okay. It’s probably not as bad as I think it is.” 

However, you don’t get up. It’s like you’re glued to your chair and no matter how much the nerves in your brain tells your legs to get up, they don’t move. 

For two hours, you just sit there. Almost so you’re late to class even. 

 --

“We’re doing a what?” 

Both you and Tom frown at Dean McHallan who, though with a slight roll of his eyes, nods. “You’re going to a conference in Scotland. I know it’s sudden and it seems weird, but they specifically asked for you two to speak.”

You raise a brow. “They asked for us to speak about what exactly? Do I have to prepare some kind of presentation or something now because, honestly, I’m not ready for that.” 

“They asked for you both to speak on team-teaching creative writing. They wanted input from your students as well so during the week now, ask them some questions that you can quote them on. And they wanted you, Y/N, to speak on your research project as they find it interesting and they weirdly enough hadn’t thought about it before. They would love to hear how you’re going about it.” 

Your mind races as you nod along to his words. What are you supposed to do? Say no, nope, you can’t do that. You literally have no choice because he’s already said you’re going and McHallan makes the final decisions and he also knows neither of you really have anything that important going on currently. 

“Okay, I guess we’re going to Scotland next week.” You’ve always wanted to go so maybe it’s an opportunity you should take anyway. 

“It’s settled then. Tom?”

The literature professor nods. “I can’t argue with your reasoning so I guess we’re going. I have some inquiries. Accomodations? Travel? Food? And when?”

McHallan hands each of you a piece of paper. “You will be in the same hotel, though different rooms. I think they’ll be just across from each other or something. You’ll fly there on wednesday morning, together, and have all wednesday evening to settle in and make the last preparations and so on. Food will be accounted for unless you eat above budget. There are breakfast and dinner included at the hotel, and lunch is served with the conference. If you eat anything outside of that it will be out of your own pocket. The schedule for the conference is on the back of that paper and the information you need about your flights just under there.”

You nod, going over the paper as McHallan talks and making different mental notes. Some of those make no sense, and one of them is ‘get trapped somewhere so you have to ask Tom what you did on Saturday’, though you’re afraid that one might be the hardest one to see through with.

[pinesprings]

Aetea: Chapter 2

(Just give me a reason, why is it so hard to find one)

Chapter One

Summary: The can of worms is open but it's not the only thing that is. Hearts get poured out somewhere amidst the action and the aftermath

Notes: It's finally here! Took longer than I expected. This is twice as long as the 1st chapter due to.. personal reasons. Im treating you fluff today uwu. I certainly do hope it's better than my anxiety is telling me it is. Anyway, enjoy!

Warnings: child abuse, blood and violence, head injury, injuries, panic attacks I guess. In one word, angst.

Reading Time: 28 mins (3.5k words)

Or read here on ao3

***

It wasn't supposed to go this way. No, no. It was supposed to be fine.

This did not qualify as fine.

But like lives are not supposed to sail in the storm and the storm is not supposed to help death outrun their years by sinking them beneath the waves and foam, things don't always go as planned.

JJ's body wasn't supposed to look so broken and Kiara's hands weren't supposed to have blood on them. No, her fingers shouldn't have been dyed in this dark crimson of sin.

The remainder of tears stored in her decided to leave her eyes and dance with the blood in her hands, dance with the sin, try to wash it away.

She let out the weakest mumble of despair as realization had hit her. She might have killed someone. She might have-

Her eyes moved frantically between the two bodies slumped over each other, as full of life as all those inanimate objects littering the ground. They were both too still. She gasped at the sight, panic overwhelming her and her senses dimmed by the thought that plagued her brain.

That she had no damn idea what to do.

Kiara kneeled down and gathered all her strength to move the weight of the monster off of her friend. She gritted her teeth in a feckless attempt to free the blonde boy from being crushed by the man.

Even unconscious, he was still causing him pain.

She cursed under her breath before pushing again with all her might and managing first to shove the man to the side, then to get ahold of the boy, pulling him on top of the mess of tangled limbs.

"JJ! JJ can you hear me?" she practically yelled at his bruised face, her voice cracking under the pressure. Not getting an answer, she swallowed the throbbing pain wanting to escape her throat and tried to put some kind of order in her pounding head.

Heartbeat. She had to check his heartbeat.

She wiped her palms on her thighs to rid them of the sweat. A pointless action, since the fluid kept escaping through her pores, itching her skin as it fell down in thick droplets.

Taking a deep breath, Kiara placed her fingers on his neck and by the time thirty seconds had passed and she could calculate the rythm of his pulse, she was ready to faint.

It was fast, but steady.

A breath that she wasn't able to let out before evaded her lips, along with a relieved chuckle. His heart sounded just like any heart should. Still, his breathing was ragged. She figured it was because of the state of his ribs and nose. His entire body was covered in scrapes and the various bruises had already started dyeing purple patches of skin.

She was dreadfully sure she had heard something break, perhaps right before she had…

Right before she had potentially murdered someone in cold blood.

Oh god.

Sweat started showering her again, an insufferable heat urging her to try -and fail- to catch her breath. Drowning in vague but persistent ramblings racing through her brain, Kie felt like she could throw up any minute.

Should she call 911?

Should she check if the monster is still alive?

She should call.

But first check.

But what if..

…what if he's dead?

For a solid minute the single thing she felt capable of doing was pacing back and forth while frantically pulling at her hair, as if she was plucking the weed from the field of her mind, so that she could plant a sensible contemplation.

Resisting the ever growing urge to vomit she crouched next to the unconscious body of the man, reluctantly raising her hand above his nose. In a swift flare of his nostrils warm air blew against her palm.

A sniffle escaped her as she withdrew her hand from the repulsive face.

She sat down, her head facing her bent knees. Another one. A tear followed.

Slowly tears were falling like currents destined to ford countries and forests of her cheeks to end up in the sea of her lap. She let each and every muscle in her body relax and fall down, mirroring that one wall that falls and lets the enemy breach.

Surrendered to the sensation of emerging from the moonlit waves and breathing in the midnight breeze.

Rich, chestnut waves a crown on her head as it arose to face the ceiling, or perhaps what laid beyond, and while the tears were still fresh carving their path down her skin, she started laughing.

Laughing so loud it almost sounded hysterical. Nothing made sense anymore so why should that matter?

"I'm not a bloody murderer" she announced in between laughs, the knot in her stomach starting to dissolve just an inch. Taking a deep, shuddering breath she whipped her phone out from the back pocket of her shorts and dialed those three numbers every soul knows by heart.

"911, what is your emergency?"

"I--"

Kiara suddenly froze. She turned to look at JJ's broken form with guilt in her eyes. That was it. Questions would be asked and the answers required would simply birth more problems. The wolves had chased them and they had run, but now they had come all the way to the start of the cliff.

They would have to learn how climb down the rocks. To survive.

"Miss?"

Her attention shifted back to the ongoing call as she took a deep breath before spitting out those next sentences that would save her JJ, but could perhaps doom him.

"Two people are injured. Badly" she declared with an unnaturally casual tone. She flinched at how cruel and unfeeling she sounded after having been drained of the pearly tears. Numb, she ventured. Yeah, that should be the word.

After having shared their location and been told that a bus would probably arrive there in less than fifteen minutes, Kiara sat down on the edge of the couch with her gaze fixed on JJ's closed shut eyes. She pictured those wonderful blue eyes, captivating depths of the ocean, waves inviting, that could devour you in a heartbeat, bringing you down beneath the horizon, the warm rays bathing your salty skin in the sunlight like a faraway promise of safety. Like home.

She always felt secure with JJ. When she could smell his scent of carefree summer and admire his loose strands of hair flowing with the gentle wind like golden sand reshaping the desert hills, she felt untouchable. Clear dominance over her self, only she could dictate her destiny, in spite of any concept of fate. Ironically enough, it was not her will that demanded she quenched her thirst in the radiant oasis that were his eyes, amidst the fervor of his blazing smile.

I'm getting carried away, she reminded herself and dismissed the thoughts with a shake of her head.

She decided it would be best if she didn't attempt to wake him up. It would serve no purpose other than she'd have an easier time waiting, the knot in her stomach would have begun to untangle.

Her fingers absentmindedly toyed with her bracelets while her concerned glare lingered on JJ's limp form. Instinctively, her grip tightened on the bright colored beads when her eyes met with the purple patches of skin. They looked like a spiraling vortex, bizarre black holes embroidered on his soft epidermis.

Kiara was exhausted of witnessing the manifestation of his father's corruption on his body. She yearned to feel him in the safety of her lap, her breath caressing his ear with soft whispers of comfort. And when his wounds would heal she wished they never reappeared, no secret pain staining his teasing smirk after he had found yet another way to mess with her.

The ambulances arrived shortly indeed. Father and son were loaded inside the vehicles while paramedics tended to the most urgent wounds. Kiara played along the lines of being too shaken up to provide any answer to questions, which wasn't that far from reality. She reached her parents' car, loyally waiting parked a few feet away from the house and turned on the engine.

Following closely behind the vehicles as they rode to the hospital she utilized the few minutes to try and conjure a scenario that would explain what happened as painlessly as possible, but the thoughts kept slipping through her mind. Her grip was tight on the stirring wheel, the knuckles on her clammy hands assuming an almost deathly tint.

He's going to be alright, that was all she kept repeating in her brain like a poem.

Maybe if she said it enough she would believe it.

***

"Hey.. hey, you're awake"

JJ's eyelids drowsily fluttered open only to wince at the immense brightness his pupils were greeted with. He begrudgingly welcomed the cold, emotionless white light while his eyes adjusted to the silhouette looming over him only a breath's distance away.

Kie, he figured, if the soft voice and lovely smile were anything to go by.

JJ sighed in relief at the familiar presence lending her warmth to his waking body, estranged by his surroundings. Or perhaps that's what he would have done, had the air not caught on his chest and diminished into a spark of flame that burnt more and more as it licked his bones and climbed up his ribcage. The pain elicited a faint wheezing sound from his lips, the later which parted with a difficulty that could only indicate they had been sealed together only for a significant amount of time. He didn't release the breath before the inferno flaring inside his chest dissolved into a dull fit of throbs.

"What's wrong? JJ! Are you alright?" she whispered-shouted somewhat frantically, the undercurrent of panic mildly enhancing her as usual gentle voice.

JJ simply nodded, his teeth still grinding to help deal with the pain born from what he assumed was a broken rib.

A quick -although dizzy- glance around the room was enough to confirm that he was in fact in a hospital room, and soon the pale mechanical beeping of a machine perched behind Kiara shifted into his focus, enhancing the whole 'hospital aesthetic'.

" 'ey Kie…" JJ barely rasped out. His throat felt as dry as a sun-cooked raisin- a weird metaphor but it was the one that dared materialize into a thought. Nevertheless, his words were accompanied by a sleepy smile.

"miss m?"

A genuinely joyous grin was plastered on her features as soon as his breath tinged his vocal cords to produce the melody of speech. The exhale of air that left her body was long, perhaps releasing two breaths caught at once.

The skin around his nose was itching him but his limbs felt way too heavy to lift, so he let them stay warmly tucked beside his torso. The pleasant heat and smell of the freshly washed sheets spread across his body made it even harder to wish to move.

Kiara's face lit up with realization as her brain processed the way his voice was hoarse and rough, deducing that JJ's throat was most likely in need of hydration after that many hours of being asleep.

"Do you want anything? Water?" she offered, already pouring some of the transparent liquid in a spare cup from the stack on the bedside table. The sound was almost soothing but JJ willed himself awake. Making a huge effort to regain motion in his arm to press the button that tilted the bed so that he was no longer lying down, his fingers found his nose to scratch away the itch, only to be met with the rough feel of a cast.

Kiara practically shoved the cup into his hands.

"Here. Drink" she ordered and he complied, gulping down the liquid greedily. The pain awakened in almost every part of his body but he ignored it, instead reveling in the pleasant velvety coolness of the water.

"How are you feeling?" Kie asked him as she plucked the halfway empty cup from his fingers and placed it next to the telephone on the bed stand. Looking at her a bit better he could make out dark circles underneath her eyes. She looked overall tired and pale.

"Just peachy" he yawned. "What happened?"

"After…?"

"You know" he sighed bitterly

"He- You.. almost woke up a couple of times. Like, your eyes stirred a couple times, you probably don't remember. The doctors said you were lucky because you had no brain damage, but you still-"

JJ shook his head.

"I meant, how come he stopped using me as a piñata"

Kiara stopped and stared at him for a second -perhaps hurt by the choice of words- before her shoulders drooped and she leaned into the chair.

"I… I smashed a vase over his head"

"You did what?" JJ asked while a sly grin grew on his face. He chuckled incredulously, which he immediately regretted when the searing white pain rumbled in his chest.

"He's still alive" she said with pursed lips, almost as if she considered the outcome unfortunate.

He searched her eyes for as long as it took him to sober up again and for the severity of the situation to sink in again.

"Here?" he mumbled, dark shadows making his eyes misty.

Kiara simply nodded solemnly. Her brows remained firmly in a deep frown as they fell in a brief moment of uncomfortable hush. The thoughts neither of them was brave enough to voice were sure to invade every cell of his mind as he gazed groggily up at the IV leading nutrients and all that medical mumbo jumbo he didn't know to the catheter penetrating his forearm.

Just as he was about to ask for more details two swift knocks prompted both their heads to turn to the door. The ivory painted wood was shunted aside to reveal a woman dressed in the pearl white robe of a doctor over scrubs.

"Good morning mister Maybank."

JJ flinched at the name.

"I'm dr. Garcia, you're my patient for today" she said primly, uncrossing her arms from the chart balanced against her chest. "I see you've woken up! Don't worry, I'm just going to check a few things and change your casts"

"Whatever you need do, doc" he said with shallow fervor.

By the time traces of sweet cologne were all left in the room from dr. Garcia, any tension in the atmosphere between them had dissipated. JJ's thoughts were less blurry, his mind perhaps had awaken, but with it arose freshly painful memories and the loose ends they brought.

The previous evening kept repeating and playing in his brain much alike scratched vinyl, stuck to the same part of a song, condemned never to leave the nicked words behind. As his senses felt the terror all over only without the rage to numb the pain, his ears remembered a sound he wouldn't think he could forget, even for that short amount of time.

A million faces changed on his skin as he pondered and gathered the courage to bring the issue up, afraid phrasing would take the dream away and crush it like a flimsy piece of foil. The accelerated beeping of the machine mirroring the crazy thumping of his heart against his ribcage only betrayed him further.

"Hey, Princess?" he said cautiously, but to his ears it sounded like a desperate whimper. He gulped and plastered his best nonchalant expression on his features before resuming. "Do you remember when I decked him in the face, what you told me. Did you mean it?"

Even JJ himself could realise how pathetic of an attempt at his voice not shaking that was. The lump in his throat made it immensely more difficult to speak, combined with the throbbing pain in his chest that visited at every passage of air through him.

"What I said- Oh. "

She fixed her gaze on the ground, smiling sheepishly. Before she hid her face out of JJ's eyesight he managed to catch a glimpse of her furiously blushing cheeks. He didn't know what to make of it.

"Did you mean it?"

Kiara looked at him, fidgeting restlessly. She hugged her torso, brushing her blouse soothingly with her fingers. Whether she picked up at the way the machine beeped almost as persistently as a heart attack, she didn't show it.

One brief intake of breath that could have lasted for a decade. To say JJ had been hanging from her lips would be an understatement.

One inhale, and then the answer.

"Yes"

The blonde gawked at her, stunned.

"I meant it"

JJ shook his head, leering back a little.

"But what about Pope? I thought.."

The girl waved her hand dismissively.

"There's nothing between me and Pope. If anything we're more of siblings. I had this discussion with him too, I just" she paused, "I hadn't found an opportunity to tell you -well, until now"

She peered at him expectantly but JJ was malfunctioning.

She bit her lower lip.

"You know, after the entire gold fiasco.. John B's disa-.."

Her voice broke at the mention of their friend. The heel of her palm shot up to wipe at the welled up corner of her eye. "I needed.. something- someone to hold on to. Like an anchor"

"But I guess deep down even before then, I knew. I wanted you to be my anchor." she paused, smiling bitterly.

"I've known for a while. I like you, and a lot"

JJ was glitching like his cousin Kyle's relic of a laptop, perfectly mimicking a deer caught in front of headlights. His mouth opened and closed right back as he fumbled for words. He could practically sense a blush creeping in and painting all over his cheeks and underneath the cast.

Kiara giggled timidly, burying her face in her palms.

"You know what just forget it"

"-But I've made so many moves!" JJ finally blurted out, tone almost accusatory.

"What?"

Kiara sat back straight and stared at him, only traces of shame remaining in her eyes, for it gave way to bafflement.

"You always rejected me, so I accepted that nothing between us would ever happen" he frowned.

"JJ." she grinned as she caught on with his claims, "Joking about my ass doesn't count as a move"

"I-" he tried, looking mock-offended "It's a lovely ass!"

Kiara laughed and JJ loved it, cherished the sound melodious and calming like the gurgling of refreshing spring water.

His own burbling laughter blended with hers in perfect sync, in spite of his ribs protesting in ache.

"Seriously, I did. Numerous times" he mumbled somberly.

"Yeah, yeah, you sure did" she teased, raising her eyebrows smugly. "…so?"

"So.. you like me a lot, huh?" JJ teased loftily, gifting her a lopsided grin. His chest burned like a wildfire, and this time it wasn't due to the hurt.

The taunt earned him a scoff.

"Yeah?" Kie raised an eyebrow mischievously.

"Well I like you a lot too" he said simply. His smirk melted into a sincere smile filled with love and uncertainty.

He felt bare, naked.

Aflutter, the boy apprehensively regarded the girl, what now his heart was exposed and offered as a promise he was afraid would be refused to be made.

The girl looked at him almost fondly as he struggled not to cower in the comfort of the sheets. The heat almost felt unbearable all of a sudden and the skin beneath the gauze and casts felt damp and itchy.

"You sure I'm not dead?" he gulped, "Cause this feels a lot like-"

Whatever muffled words followed were drowned out as Kiara cautiously leaned in and planted her salty lips on his, tucking her loose strands of hair behind one ear. JJ simply stared with his not swollen eye open wide at the soft lips encompassing his skin in their warmth, before he gave in to the kiss.

-Heaven

It was tender, fragile, an intimate moment as they shared their love, in whatever form they knew love to be. Gently, carefully, like being afraid that the full strength of their passion would shatter the other with as much ease as a fire would crumple the edges of love poem-filled paper.

She took the offering.

Suddenly the two were one and a whole, like the notes of a harpism finding their place in the melody, only to be sung and forever treasured in the minty aftertaste of raindrops on twilit grass. Their flesh demanded to be melt in the heat of one another, and then the beads to be intertwined as they bloomed into smoldering flames.

Kiara pulled back but the memory of her taste was imprinted on JJ's lips, leaving him breathless.

"I love you"

They could be eachother's reason.

"Love you too, idiot"

For as long as it made sense.

[lickstynine]

Oily Jace and the Smol Greasy Bitch (part 1)

A/N: Since @sickandvomiting and I are in love with our 50′s AU of Jace and Elizabeth, and equally in love with brutal whump, we decided to write the story of how Greaser Jace got his scars. I had to change the origin, since a car wreck that severe would’ve just straight-up killed him back then. Anyway, this was really fun to write, so I hope y’all enjoy reading it. Coordinating illustration(s) to come.

Jace felt like he’d been walking for about ten hours, though it had really only been about thirty minutes. Normally his long legs could’ve taken him from the bar to Elizabeth’s place in ten or fifteen, but it was hard to walk quickly when he was actively losing blood. When he’d first stood up, it had been a struggle to ignore the searing pain of several deep cuts. Now he was so lightheaded, the pain was negligible, but his ability to stand was quickly fading. It felt like he’d been trudging through miles of concrete jungle. He was about to give up and lay down in an alley to accept his fate when a familiar sight wobbled before his eyes. Just down the road, Elizabeth’s dilapidated brownstone was visible under a flickering streetlight, its telltale patches of moss and missing brick mercifully familiar.

Jace sighed in relief, sending a fresh jolt of pain through several cuts and some probably-cracked ribs. It stung fiercely, but it woke him up a bit, and he forced himself to keep walking, cursing and fumbling as he scaled the rusty fire escape. His right wrist screamed when he grabbed onto the railing, but he didn’t let go. Just two flights of creaky old stairs, and he’d be safe. By the time he reached Elizabeth’s window, he was one stiff wind away from toppling right back down the fire escape. He leaned heavily on the rail, using his good hand to rap on the glass.

“Ey! Doll face! You up?” Even in this state, Jace knew well enough to whisper. If he woke up Elizabeth’s neighbors, or god forbid, her parents, they’d both be dead.

Momentarily the curtains were drawn back to reveal Elizabeth’s face behind the glass. The grin she wore at the surprise of seeing him quickly faded, however, as she got full sight of him. Blood streamed down his face, neck, and chest, staining his white t-shirt a dark brownish red.

“Jace, what the fuck!!” she hissed, opening the creaky window as quietly as she could. “What happened? Who did this to you?” She tugged on his arm, trying to pull him into the room, but pulled away when he winced sharply.

“I… I can clue you. Kinda.” Jace climbed in the window himself, hissing, wincing, and groaning and eventually just landing face first on the ground. “Shit…”

Elizabeth jumped at the sound, and her hands momentarily flitted to his back before she stood back up and peeked out her door. Good, the hallway was clear. They hadn’t heard.

“Better get to explaining there, honey,” she whispered, closing the door as quietly as possible. She fluttered back to him and helped him to sit upright. “Thank god the floor is wood,” she muttered when she saw the bloodstain left on the scuffed floorboards.

“Sorry.” Jace tried to grin sheepishly, but it was more of a grimace. “I wasn't even tryin’ to start shit this time.”

She gave him a skeptical look.

“I wasn't!” Jace cried, “I was at the bar with the guys, and there were a couple punks hangin’ out nearby... hollerin' at the bartender and just bein' assholes. Leo and Donny had to bail early, so it was just me and Aaron there the rest of the night. It's gettin' late, we're about to head out, and we hear a ruckus over on the far side of the bar. It's those punks from before. They're all over this kitten, they clearly wanna neck 'er and she is not havin’ it.” He paused, waiting for a reaction from Elizabeth. She scrunched her nose distastefully, and he continued.

“So I go over there. I tell 'em to back off unless they wanna knuckle sandwich. Aaron cut out soon as I started talkin'. You know him, he's such a wet rag with that shit. Too scared of gettin' in trouble. But anyway, so I'm tellin' these punks to leave the girl alone, they tell me to get bent and go back to grabbin' at 'er.” Again, Jace paused, and Elizabeth scoffed obligingly.

“So I yanked the closer guy offa her and decked him, and his friend lets go'a the girl to help 'im. At first I was creamin' 'em, like those two were half dead, and then outta the woodwork, like five more guys pop up to help the bastards. But I don't wanna just bail, cause what are they gonna do to that girl if I turn tail like Aaron. So I'm just tryin' to keep my head above water, and one of these nosebleeds breaks a goddamn bottle an' comes at me with it. Nearly cut my fuckin' head off before I kicked it outta his hand. Dunno what I woulda done if the bartender hadn't threatened to call the cops. Jackasses ran off, but it was already past close, so I had to cut out, too. I didn't even see where that girl got off to… I just hope those creeps didn't find her."

Elizabeth just hummed in response, at a loss for words. As he’d been speaking, she had started wiping the blood off his face and neck with a washcloth and the water from her hot water bottle. She paused and met his eyes, and cupped the uninjured side of his face with her hand.

“I’m so sorry that happened, sugar,” she said, wiping a streak of blood and sweat from his cheek with her thumb. “But hey, we match now!” She flashed him a concerned smile, and was pleased when he momentarily grinned back, though the expression quickly morphed into a grimace.

Jace shrugged, his face immediately screwing up in painful regret. “I mean… it was the right thing to do… I think. Maybe I shoulda just butted out...” He sighed, and his good hand flew to his ribs, which were aching much worse than earlier. Any last dregs of adrenaline were long gone by now, and he could feel the edges of the cuts on his chest tugging with every breath. “I'm gonna hafta borrow a shirt from Donny or somethin’... If I come home in this, Mom's gonna flip her lid.”

“Hey, no, it wasn’t your fault. People are just… like that,” she said, resuming her work on his wounds. “I would offer you one of my dad’s shirts, but it would be like me trying to wear a baby onesie,” she added with a chuckle. After a moment, she stopped again. She could see deep down into the whitish yellow viscera in some of the cuts, and while the bleeding was slowing, it wasn’t slowing as quickly as she’d like.

“You should really get to a hospital, Jace,” she murmured. “All I’ve got here is iodine, alcohol, and Rawleigh’s.”

“That should be fine.” Jace shrugged, as if he had a bad paper cut and not a couple pints of blood soaking his shirt.

“It won-” she started loudly, but caught herself and lowered her voice to a whisper again. “It won’t be fine! I can’t take care of this by myself, you need a doctor!”

Jace sighed. “How do you want me to get there, Liz? Aaron picked me up today.”

“I dunno, we could flag down a taxi or something? I don’t have any money though, and I don’t think I can very well ask my parents,” she trailed off. “Besides, I doubt any cab would take us with you lookin’ like this.”

“Yeah, I got money, but…” Jace sighed. He was wracking his brain, trying to figure out who he might be able to call. At first, his vacant gaze seemed thoughtful, but then his eyelids fluttered and he slumped forward against Elizabeth.

“Shit, shit, shit,” she hissed, tapping his face. “Jace, c’mon baby, wake up.” When he didn’t respond, she held his head against the crook of her neck and stroked his hair, swallowing down the newfound panic that was crawling into her throat. “Shit!”

She pushed Jace back against the wall as gently as she could, though his head lolled back and hit the drywall with a hollow thump. She muttered an apology despite the fact that he couldn’t hear it, and stood as quietly as she could, afraid the thud had woken her parents. She listened for a moment, head cocked toward the door—nothing except her mom’s muffled snoring from down the hall.

She made her way to their living room, dancing around the creaky floorboards in a routine that was now muscle memory from repetition. She dialed the number as quietly as she could, wincing every time to rotary dial reset with a click and a metallic ring. When the operator picked up, she gave the number to Jace’s home, and silently hoped upon hope that it would be his dad answering, and not his mom.

The phone rang a few times, and Elizabeth practically collapsed with relief when Vody’s deep voice and clipped accent came through the receiver.

“Hyello? Who this?” He didn't sound angry, luckily, but he was definitely confused. Phone calls at three in the morning rarely meant good news.

“Mr. Romanovich! It’s Elizabeth. Please come to my house, it’s important. Jace is here. Please help.” The words came tumbling out in a rush, accompanied by sudden tears and a choked sob, and she found herself hanging up the phone before he could even open his mouth to respond.

Vody stood over the phone for a moment, dumbfounded as it buzzed in his ear. He could only imagine what Jace had gotten into, but he supposed now wasn't the time to worry about it. Not bothering to throw on real clothes, he simply grabbed his car keys and stepped into the boots he'd left by the front door. It wasn't cold out this time of year, and even if it had been, New York winter was about as cool as a Siberian summer. Despite being clad in only his boxers and a tank top, he strolled shamelessly out to his car, climbing in and gunning it down the road.

The streets weren't as busy this time of night, and it didn't take long for Vody to pull up in front of Elizabeth's brownstone. He parked out front and hurried up to the door, hesitant to actually knock at this hour.

Luckily, the door swung open as soon as he reached the landing; Elizabeth had been listening for him. She held a finger up to her lips and pointed to his feet, and for a moment Vody caught a glint of tears on her cheeks in the dimly lit doorway. He took off his clunky boots and she guided him deftly through the hallway, showing him how to avoid the noisy floorboards. They miraculously made it to her room with minimal sound. There, Jace had slid down the wall and was slumped sideways onto the ground, seemingly lifeless. Elizabeth clamped a hand over her mouth when she reflexively gasped, and after dashing over to him and taking a moment to compose herself, she turned to Vody.

“Please help. He’s hurt bad.”

Vody sighed quietly. He wasn't exactly fazed - he'd seen people in much sorrier states during the war - but that didn't mean he wanted to see his son torn up and bleeding to death. He didn't bother asking questions yet, crouching down to scoop Jace off the ground as carefully as possible. Jace groaned slightly, his eyelids flickering, but he slumped over against Vody's chest as soon as he was picked up. Vody stood up easily, not at all bothered by the weight. Elizabeth hurried to open the door for him, and they crept out to the car in fearful silence.

Once Jace was placed carefully into the passenger seat, Vody climbed back into the driver's, starting the car while Elizabeth hopped into the back. He finally broke the silence, as there was a rather important question to be asked.

“You know where nearest hospital is?”

“Yeah.” She supplied him with the location and the quickest way she knew to get there, and once again fell silent. Her eye was fixed on Jace, and she reached up to squeeze his shoulder. After a few moments she spoke again, this time more quietly.

“I should have called you sooner. I’m sorry. I waited too long.” A sob caught in her throat and she bit it back, squeezing her eyes shut in an attempt to stem the flow of tears. Nonetheless, they rolled down her face and she ducked out of sight, ashamed of both her inaction which led to this situation, and the way she was currently handling it.

“Hey. You okay. You not nurse. Not trained to take care of hurt people. Freak out is normal. You try to help. That what matter. We go to hospital now. Will be okay.” Vody reached one of his long arms back to gently pat her shoulder.  

“You cold?” He asked tactfully, having been trying not to stare at her very thin nightie for a while now. “Should be blanket somewhere in back.”

“Yeah, thanks,” she said with a sniffle, pulling the worn fleece around her shoulders. “The hospital is right up here,” she added as they turned onto the correct street.

Vody went quiet again as they pulled up in front of the emergency room. He parked right there, rushing around to pick up Jace and carry him inside. The poor nurse at the desk looked horrified, hastily paging the doctor on call. It wasn't long before a stretcher appeared, nurses pushing it and a doctor hurrying alongside. Vody set Jace on the stretcher as carefully as possible, following along without waiting for an invitation as they wheeled off down the hall. He gestured for Elizabeth to come with, fully ready to fight anyone that tried to stop them.

She tagged along behind him, jogging to keep up with their quick pace. She pulled the blanket tighter around her, feeling exposed in the public hallway. She didn’t even bother to gather the ends of it off the floor, instead letting it trail behind her like a sad cape. When they arrived at the room, the nurses stopped both of them, one laying a gentle but firm hand on Vody’s chest.

“You can both stay here and watch, but you have to give us room to work,” she explained. “There’s a waiting area down the hall, too,” she added, though it was more of a suggestion than an additional detail.

“We’re staying. We’ll stay out of your way,” Elizabeth stated.

Vody nodded firmly. He wasn't going anywhere until he knew Jace would be okay. He leaned on the wall, sighing quietly as he watched nurses frantically slice away Jace's clothes and work to staunch the wounds that were still trickling blood. When the doctor got to work, Vody finally looked down at Elizabeth.

“What happened?” His voice was softer and more subdued than Elizabeth had ever heard, the mischievous twinkle long gone from his eye.

“Some punks gave him a beating when he tried to help out a girl they were harassing,” she said, her gaze never leaving Jace. There was so much blood. She reached blindly for Vody’s hand, and ended up latching onto his arm with trembling fingers. He put an arm around her, strong and sturdy. There was a long sigh followed by silence as he pondered his response. He didn't want to say Jace should've left the girl to be harassed, but he couldn't think of a better solution either. It was just a shit situation. He sighed again, low and heavy.

“Am trying to decide if I should call his mother. Obviously, will tell her either way, but... Don't know if better to go home and talk later, or call now.”

“Jace wouldn’t want her to worry,” Elizabeth replied. “He didn’t want you to worry either,” she added after a second.

Despite the gravity of the situation, Vody snorted. “He seriously think he just going to come home and pretend he fine?” He shook his head. “Too much like me.”

Elizabeth found herself chuckling along with him. “I think he really believed he could just waltz in and no one would notice a thing. He’s a real dipstick sometimes…”

Vody nodded, a smile flickering on his face. It faded quickly, and he ran a hand through his hair with a sigh. “Have cigarettes in car. I go get. You stay, watch him.”

As he turned to leave, Elizabeth caught his hand and he paused.

“He’s gonna be okay, Mr. Romanovich.” She gave his hand a squeeze. “He always is. He has to be.”

Vody forced a smile for her. “He have you. That help.” He trudged off down the hall, ignoring the strange look he got from a passing nurse.

As promised, he returned a few minutes later with a lighter and a pack of cigarettes in hand, one already lit in his mouth. He held them out to Elizabeth without a word. She took one and allowed him to light it for her as she puffed, blowing a small cloud of smoke against the glass of the ICU room wall. The scene seemed to drag on for far too long, with an alarming amount of blood and sharp tools. Easily the most gruesome was an incision the doctor made between two ribs, inserting a tube to drain blood from the chest cavity. Even Vody grimaced at the sight. Between him and Elizabeth, the pack of cigarettes was quickly depleting.

Eventually, the doctor came out to talk to them. He explained that they had patched up all the cuts, but they wanted to keep an eye on Jace for a while, since some of the wounds were deep, with one having nicked his small intestine, and another puncturing his left lung. They were going to take him for x-rays now that he wasn't going to bleed out on the radiologist, and do further repairs once they knew for sure what was broken. Vody nodded along, listening closely but at a loss for words.

“Thank you, Doctor,” Elizabeth replied in his stead. As he left, she turned to Vody and grabbed his large palm. “Hear that? He’s gonna be okay.”

Vody sighed, nodding half-heartedly. “Da.” He leaned against the wall, slowly sinking down until he was sitting on the floor. It honestly looked a bit ridiculous - a giant man, smudged with blood, wearing work boots and heart-print boxers, sitting on the pristine hospital tile. He had told himself he was going to be calm. He was the father here, he had to be responsible and take care of things. At the same time, it took all his self-control to stay quiet and composed. He felt like an idiot. A failure. A fuck-up. Had he raised Jace to be too much like himself? Should he have been keeping a closer eye on his son? How the fuck did this even happen? He sighed deeply, and it wobbled as he choked down a sob.

“Mr. Romanovich?” Elizabeth questioned, hearing the slight tremble in his breath. She laid her hand on his shoulder hesitantly, unsure of what to do.

“Hm?” Vody didn't dare to look up; he felt pathetic. He was sitting on the floor crying, being comforted by a little girl. The hallway was far too silent to miss his sniffles, and his face burned red with embarrassment.

Without a word, Elizabeth stepped into the now empty ICU room and rooted around for a bit before discovering a cache of blankets. She brought one out and draped it around Vody’s shoulders before sliding down to the floor next to him and resting the side of her head against his arm. Sniffling quietly, he patted her hair in silent gratitude.

“He’s okay,” she whispered. It felt as though any sound in the quiet hall would break the thin barrier keeping their emotions at bay, and she closed her eyes as the words dissipated against the white walls.

Vody kept a sturdy arm around Elizabeth, awake and alert as much as he didn't want to be. He was too on edge to even consider spacing out - it felt like if he blinked, he might open his eye to a doctor leading them down to the morgue. Of course, that wasn't the case, and after a while, a nurse came to talk to them. She explained that they'd found several breaks, but luckily, none were compounded. They'd had to put screws into Jace's wrist, since he'd fucked up the alignment of the bones pretty badly (likely trying to climb the fire escape), and they wanted to keep a close eye on his ribs, to make sure they didn't interfere with the healing of his lung. Despite this seemingly endless list of awful news, she assured them that Jace was expected to recover completely; he would just need care and rest for a while.

“He’s stable now, I can take you to his room if you like?”

Vody nodded, scrambling to his feet and helping Elizabeth up as well. He hurried after the nurse as she guided them to a simple patient room. Jace was sprawled out on the bed, his lanky legs mere inches from drooping off the edge. His wrist was wrapped heavily in plaster and bandages, and his arms and torso were covered in fresh stitches, including particularly nasty gashes across his left pectoral and below his navel. The tube was still in his chest, and he was attached to a delightful assortment of monitors to track his vitals. The entire right side of his face was covered in bandages, with a long line of stitches and a patchwork of bruises on the other cheek.

Vody couldn't help cringing at the sight. Somehow this was almost worse than the gorey mess earlier. Maybe because he could no longer tell himself it was just the blood everywhere that made it seem so bad, or maybe because he'd never seen Jace look so weak and vulnerable. It felt wrong, and Vody couldn't help feeling responsible. He moved to sit on the edge of the bed, but hesitated, not wanting to jostle Jace or mess up any of the equipment.

Elizabeth had no such anxieties, and rushed to his side. She brushed a strand of hair off the exposed side of his face, fingers tracing along his brow, then down his jawline. They lingered momentarily on his lips, and she smiled sadly when she felt his warm breath on them. It reminded her that he would be okay. Jace stirred slightly at her touch, letting out a soft groan. Vody perked up at once, watching them closely.

“Jace?” she whispered. “You awake?”

Jace's eyelids fluttered, and he squinted against the bright hospital lights. His vision was hazy, but the massive mane of dark curls hovering over him was unmistakable. “Hey, doll face… how goes it?”

“Oh, just peachy,” she replied with a chuckle that ended in a stifled sob. Tears began rolling soundlessly down her cheeks as she took his face in both hands and planted a kiss on his forehead. “Welcome back to the land of the living,” she added, voice thick with emotion.

“Didn't miss it as much as I thought I would. Shit hurts.” Jace was trying to be light-hearted, but even faking a smile made him grimace. He patted the mattress beside him with his good hand. “C'mere, there's space for your skinny little ass.” That brought a more genuine smirk out of him, followed by a grunt of pain. Every movement seemed to hurt, even just talking. “Christ alive, they got any drugs in this quack shack or do I just get to sit here suffering?”

“You’re already on enough to send any of us normal folk to cloud nine,” she said, hesitating and shooting a glance in Vody’s direction. “But you’re a pretty big cat too, so you can probably handle some more. I’ll go get the nurse, leave you two alone for a moment.” With a quick pivot, she scampered away, leaving the room in a breathless silence as Jace’s good eye focused slowly on his father.

“Shit.” Even as he'd realized he was in the hospital, Jace had still naively hoped his parents hadn't found out. He was clearly panicked, stumbling over his words as he tried to explain himself. “Okay so, ya see, the thing is-”

Vody cut him off. “Hush. Miss Lizbeth told me everything. You think I'm mad at you, Jason?” He was almost laughing as he said it.

“Well… kinda?” Jace admitted. He didn't even have a good reason for why. He'd just assumed that going out, being rowdy, and getting into trouble meant his parents would be pissed.

“Did you start fight?” Vody asked plainly.

“Not really… I mean… I threw the first punch, but I was just tryna get those creeps offa that poor girl!” Jace tried to sit up, naturally getting animated as he defended himself. He promptly fell back on the pillows with a grimace.

“Then why would I be mad?”

Jace paused, looking up at his father for a moment as he thought. “...I dunno.”

Now Vody couldn't help laughing. “Too much my son, you are…” He plunked down on the foot of the bed, patting Jace's knee gently. “I not mad at you. Was worried, of course. But I not mad. Your mother…” Vody sighed, knowing Serafina likely wouldn't be happy about Jace getting in a fight, even one most people would consider justified. “I will talk to your mother.”

Jace cringed. “Do you have to tell Mom?”

Vody snorted. “Well, yes. How am I explain broken hand and stitches face?”

“...right. Good point.” Jace sighed. He really didn't want to have to talk to Serafina, even if Vody talked to her first. He got distracted from his worries when Elizabeth walked back in with a nurse, who approached Jace with another syringe and inserted it into his IV tube.

“Just a little more morphine. We don’t want to go overboard,” the nurse said with a small smile, which Elizabeth returned as the nurse left the room.

Jace visibly relaxed as the meds hit his system, and Elizabeth found herself laughing. “Naturally, you beat up some goons, get totaled, and end up high as a kite on the good stuff.” She took his hand in hers, careful to avoid the bandages and stitching. “Fucking beatnik.” She raised an eyebrow when he smirked at her, no longer wincing at the movement.

“Look,” he grinned, “this wasn't how I planned to spend my Friday night. The beat life chose me.”

“It's Saturday morning. Has been for while now.” Vody chimed in.

“Shit, is it?” Jace looked at his wrist as if he ever wore a watch.

“Da. Sun came up hour ago.” Vody confirmed.

“Ah, shit…” Jace smiled apologetically at Elizabeth. “Sorry baby. Normally, I try to make our all-nighters a little more fun.”

“Jace!” Elizabeth hissed through clenched teeth and leaned in conspiratorially. “Your father is in here with us, shut up!” She flashed Vody a sheepish smile and clamped a hand as gently as she could over Jace’s mouth when he started to speak again.

Vody just chuckled. “Your secret safe with me. He not get habits from his mother.” He sighed. “Who I probably need go talk to. Wish luck.”

“Slay the dragon!” Jace encouraged, muffled by Elizabeth's hand, who flashed Vody another apologetic grin.  

As soon as Vody left the room, Elizabeth whirled on him in mock outrage.

“You knucklehead! Sayin’ shit like that in front of the old man,” she muttered, climbing up onto the bed with him. “You really are the most, aren’t ya?”

“Baby, I'm more than the most.” Jace grinned, slinging his less-damaged arm around her. “Like your nightgown, by the way. Meant to tell ya earlier, but I was busy… y'know… bleedin’ out.” He laughed, drowning in far too much morphine to be worried about his mortality.

She curled into his chest with a snort, tactfully avoiding his more grievous wounds, and gently kissed his collarbone before laying her head down and falling silent, listening to the steady beat of his heart and feeling the gentle rise and fall of his breath.

“You really scared us, you know,” she said finally. “Us meaning him too. He was terrified.”

Jace snorted derisively. “You're pullin' my leg. I've never seen Dad scared.”

“Really, babe. Like, really really.”

Jace furrowed his brows, seeming to be in serious thought for possibly the first time ever. He didn't say anything for a while, then quietly ventured, “How bad do I look?”

“Like how I imagine someone might look after a tiger attack. Which is to say, pretty damn bad.” She fell silent for a moment, then quietly added “Scary bad, honestly.” Her hand trailed slowly along the edge of his bandages, mapping out the new tracks it would have to follow.

Jace cringed. She hadn't even tried to sugarcoat it - it was too bad to bother. He'd been considering asking for a mirror, but now he was honestly afraid. “Oh… shit.” As stupid as it was, he couldn't help being more worried about his appearance than his health. Cuts would recover. Good looks… not so much.

Elizabeth lifted her head to face him, and found his eyes darting down to assess the damage for himself, slight panic beginning to show in his face when he saw exactly how many injuries there were, their centers stained a deep browning red.

“Hey, don’t do that. Not yet,” she said, lifting his chin with two fingers and tilting it toward her face. “Not yet…” She smiled sadly when his good eye finally focused on hers, and she kissed his brow. Jace tried to force a smile, but it didn't stick. He wasn't sure if it was the stress or the drugs, but he was struggling to focus. Thoughts were spinning around like a whirlwind in his head, and the bed no longer felt steady beneath him. He squeezed his eyes shut with a tense sigh.

“You’re okay, baby,” Elizabeth said, rearranging herself so that his head could rest on her chest instead. “I’ve got you.” She carded a hand slowly through his hair. The nurses had washed the blood and product out of it to get him cleaned up before the surgery, and it was soft under her hand.

“Just sleep. We’ll deal with whatever comes up tomorrow. For now, just sleep.” She continued her gentle ministrations, and when his good eye remained wide open, head spinning with endless possibilities, each less desirable than the last, she started humming. Gently, sweetly. A stupid little song that they’d heard in a jukebox when they first met. After a while, his eyes fluttered shut as the morphine made the thoughts indecipherable and he stopped trying to think, and stopped trying not to think. Instead, he just let himself be, and feel Elizabeth’s hands in his hair, the warmth of her body, and sound of her voice. And eventually, he was lulled into a deep but peaceless sleep.