#(which is approximately now but she’s still asleep so we’re waiting until she wakes up lol)

[fingertipsmp3]

I love “smart” technology. I love how my watch thinks I’ve been asleep about an hour longer than I have. Do sleeping people check their blood pressure figure? Do sleeping people walk around? Do sleeping people accidentally play a dog video through the speaker of their watch and startle themselves??

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

Into The Unknown, Part 4

First

Previous

It was late at night and Tim was having problems sleeping.

Marinette wasn’t, clearly. She had pulled on one of his old t-shirts and passed out pretty much the moment she had touched the bed. She was a cuddler when she was asleep, he had found out when she had started wrapping herself around one of his arms. He’d pushed her off, then he’d tried scooting… and then he’d fallen off the bed in an attempt to leave distance between them. The moment he’d hit the floor she’d spread out starfish style and taken up the entire bed.

(He was beginning to regret the fake marriage thing, this was definitely going to become a nightly problem if they didn’t want people questioning their marriage stability.)

He’d finally managed to successfully thwart her attempts by sticking his second pillow between them. She’d been peacefully clinging to it in the hour or so since, dreaming away.

Tim, however, was not so lucky...

It wasn’t for lack of trying, of course. In fact, logic dictated that he should have fallen unconscious a long time ago because he hadn’t managed to get his hands on almost any coffee that day. No, he certainly should have been able to sleep.

The only thing stopping him was Damian.

You see, every time he neared blissful unconsciousness, Damian would make these… sounds. They almost sounded like whimpers. Tim would jolt out of bed to make sure the kid wasn’t choking. He’d looked it up, and Damian shouldn’t choke because there was nothing near him to choke on, but dear god was it hard to believe that when the kid made those little squeaks every time he shifted in bed.

But it was nearing three in the morning, now. And Damian wouldn’t stop. And Tim was so tired.

He sighed and reached into the crib and picked up the baby.

Damian began to cry, angry at being woken up, and Tim hurriedly grabbed the pacifier from the crib in hopes that it would get the kid to shut up.

Don’t wake Marinette up don’t please he doesn’t know if she’s the kind to get angry and OH SHIT.

The bed shifted as Marinette slowly pushed herself up, and she was either squinting at the pair for disrupting her sleep or struggling to open her eyes.

“Que?” She said, not particularly mad but definitely not awake enough yet for that to happen.

“It’s fine, I’ve got it,” he assured her.

“‘Kay,” she said and it took a second for him to fully understand the language switch but, hey, she was sinking back down into the bed so at least that was good.

What wasn’t good was that Damian was still crying.

Tim sighed and shoved the pacifier in his brother’s mouth and refused to let go until Damian had realized that crying was getting them nowhere. “Good baby,” he murmured absently as he bounced the kid in his arms.

Well, if Damian was up he might as well change his diaper now. Maybe then he wouldn’t have to do it again.

He trudged to the bathroom and changed the diaper. It was less daunting now that it wasn’t his first time. Or maybe he was just too tired to care.

Whatever. He quickly washed his hands and then carried the kid to bed.

Marinette had fallen back asleep again, pillow clutched to her chest.

He squinted over. Pillows were bad around babies. (So were blankets, but it was a hot night anyway so the blankets were long since discarded at the end of the bed.) That was what the internet had told him.

Then, an idea came to him. He carefully removed the pillow and set Damian between them.

It took approximately five seconds before Marinette’s face screwed up with annoyance in her sleep and she started reaching around.

Damian made a quiet yelp as he was suddenly pulled to Marinette’s chest and caged in her arms. He gave Tim a betrayed look that was way cuter than it should have been.

Tim could only laugh and take a picture of the two of them.

Then, he settled down in bed.

Damian was still squinting at him, making it hard to sleep.

He reached a hand out and started awkwardly petting the kid’s head. Was it probably bad to pet the kid like a dog? Yes, of course. But it was working so maybe not…?

Damian fell back asleep quickly and Tim stopped his weird petting thing in favor of shifting around until he had managed to find a comfortable spot.

He cast one tired look back at Marinette and Damian. Damian was currently sucking on Marinette’s pinky finger in his sleep and, apparently, she was too out of it to even notice.

Tim smiled a little and let sleep finally take him.

~

Marinette woke up slightly confused and very warm.

She blinked the sleep from her eyes and then fought the urge to jerk back in bed when she realized that she was hugging a person not her usual giant cat plush and that the weight settled around her was yet another person.

She struggled to make her brain catch up…

Oh. Right. Robin had been turned into a baby and now she was taking care of him with Red Robin for the foreseeable future. They were pretending to be married and part of that was sharing a hotel bed because getting two beds might arouse suspicion.

… none of this explained why she was currently clinging to Damian. Or why Tim had thrown an arm over the two of them while they slept.

She could vaguely remember something happening in the middle of the night. Baby crying. Tim assuring her he had it handled… then what? She didn’t know.

Not enough information.

She decided she didn’t really care. Maybe she’d care more when she woke up more. For now...

She nuzzled her face in Damian’s hair. Still tired. No one else was awake, so --.

Damian started crying.

Marinette groaned a little. Nope. According to the baby it was morning.

She felt the arm Tim had around her pull away as he flipped onto his back. He rubbed his eyes and then looked over at her.

“Your turn,” he mumbled.

“Noooooooo,” she whined even as she released Damian to sit up.

But then Damian crawled over to Tim and threw himself onto his stomach. Tim wheezed as the air was sapped from his lungs.

Marinette hid her amusement behind her hand as best she could, but she couldn’t help but say: “Y’know, I think the kid might just disagree with you on that one.”

He removed one of the hands from his face to flip her off.

She snickered. “Fuck you too. But, really, I’ll do it. Just give me a second to wake up a little.”

He buried his face into one of the pillows and didn’t do anything more so she assumed that was him accepting it.

She gave herself one long sigh before she picked up Damian and started preparing him for the day.

~

Tim was pretty sure his arms were going to fall off. Why are babies so heavy? They’re so little. Where were they even putting all that weight? That should be illegal.

Well, they were going shopping, at least. They could get a stroller. In fact, if Tim had his way it would be the first thing they would do.

… obviously, he didn’t.

Marinette dragged him to a jewelry store.

He raised his eyebrows as he leaned over the case of rings with her. “You know we aren’t actually getting married, right?”

She rolled her eyes. “Yep. But I’m pretty sure if I left you alone you’d buy me something from whatever this world’s version of Claire’s is.”

Tim blushed a little. That kind of had been the intention.

She didn’t seem to notice. “Also, if I’m married guys might leave me alone.”

“It can’t be that bad.”

“You’d be surprised,” she said. She waved over a clerk and pointed to two simple silver bands. “Just these two, please.”

He waited for the clerk to leave before sending the woman in front of them an odd look.

“I thought you’d go for something more… more,” he said.

She shrugged. “We’re on a budget.”

“Oh.”

Then she flashed a grin and reached out to poke his nose. “But once we get a stable income you’re totally getting me a nicer ring.”

He held his free hand up in mock surrender. “Okay, fine.”

Damian saw the slight freedom as an indication that it was time to pitch himself out of Tim’s arms and Marinette yelped as she reached out to catch the child. Damian whined, which seemed to be the norm for preventing him from dying an early death.

She sighed and set the baby down on his feet with only her hand to keep him upright. “I’m going to let him walk around a little since he seems bored. You pay.”

“I’m paying either way.”

She stuck her tongue out at him before letting the baby lead her in aimless directions as Damian struggled to learn how to properly use his legs.

~

They had a stroller now. Damian was determinedly refusing to use it. He was hardly even letting them hold him now, throwing a fit whenever they tried to pick him up. Marinette made a mistake by letting him ‘walk’, apparently.

“Don’t know what we expected,” Tim half-joked.

Marinette shrugged helplessly.

Damian walked between the two of them, using their hands as a kind of crutch to keep himself on his feet while he half-walked-half-stumbled around.

When they got to the end of an escalator the both of them lifted Damian so he wouldn’t trip and, apparently, this became the kid’s favorite thing. He yelled ‘again’ in Arabic and the two of them had smiled because it was kind of cute that Damian could find so much joy in something as simple as being carried by the hand for a few seconds.

… it got less cute over time.

Tim let go of the stroller for half a second to pinch the bridge of his nose as they lifted him for what must have been the millionth time that hour.

“Okay. Okay. We can split up. Do you want to do clothes or toys and books?”

“Clothes. I need to get some stuff for myself and, honestly, I don’t trust you to find cute outfits.” She glanced him up and down, fighting the way her lip tried to curl in disgust. Tim must have had someone to dress him back home because there was no way he had managed to get famous dressing like that. “So, I’ll dress myself.”

He frowned. “What’s wrong with how I dress?”

She ignored him in favor of leaning down to speak to Damian. “Do you want to go get clothes?”

“... ma?”

Right. He spoke a different language.

She glanced up at Tim. “While you’re looking at parenting books, grab books on raising bilingual kids.”

“Weren’t you raised in a bilingual household? Why not just use that?” He asked, frowning.

“... just because I’m mixed doesn’t mean I was taught both languages.”

He winced a little and nodded. “Right. Okay. Meet back up here in an hour or so?”

She laughed at him. “Please. I’ll call you when I’m done picking out clothes.”

“... you know I haven’t forgotten that you totally dissed me, right?”

“C’mon, Dami, we gotta go!” She said brightly, picking up the kid despite his protests and speed walking away.

~~~~~

Next

@nathleigh @peachmuses @unoriginalmess @hammalammadamdam @astrynyx

[puckinghell]

Acts Of Service | Elias Pettersson

Summary: When people have different love languages, sometimes it’s hard to understand what the other is trying to say. 4 times Elias shows you he loves you, and the 1 time you tell him.  Words: 7.5k (whoops) Note: This concept was very interesting to explore. Also yes, this entire thing was written because of that one picture of Elias in that blue sweater stepping out of the car like a fucking GQ model. 

----

(Some time ago)

“Didn’t you say there’s an apartment free in your building?” Brock asked as soon as you answered the phone, forgoing the “hello”.

“Hello, Brock, my very good friend, how nice to talk to you! How are you doing?” you deadpanned.

At least he had the decency to sound ashamed. “Ah, yes, hi. Sorry. I’m just in a hurry and it’s important.”

You frowned. “Why? Are you looking to move?”

“No.” Brock laughed. “Stetch would kill me. No, it’s about the rookie. Petey? I told you about him. Swedish, quiet, best fucking hands in the league.”

Yes. Brock had told you about the rookie, although you still thought it dumb to call him that. Brock was basically still a rookie himself.

“What does that have to do with my apartment building?”

“He said no to having a billet family but everyone on the team thinks it’d be good for him to have someone to kinda look out for him a bit. He’s never been to Canada before this, you know, and he’s never lived on his own either. His English isn’t that great and everything is new for him. And since you’re such a caring, loving person, we thought…”

“You thought I could babysit him?” you finished for Brock.

“It’s not babysitting. Just, being friendly if he needs anything. Obviously we’re there for that too, but it’d be nice to have you so close by.”

Close by would be an understatement: the free apartment was across the hall from yours.

You weren’t sure if this sounded like something that you would necessarily want to do, but you did feel a bit sorry for Elias: you’d met him at a team thing earlier that week and he’d looked completely lost in the midst of all the Canadian hockey slang that you barely managed to follow, even after having been friends with Brock for years. He mostly kept to Eagle, spoke in Swedish, and his eyes flickered nervously across the room whenever anyone else approached him.

“Fine,” you sighed, “I’ll talk to my landlord. But you owe me, Blondie.”

Brock was happy enough that he didn’t even call you out on the nickname.

1. 

“Have I told you lately how much of a lifesaver you are?” You lean across your desk, resting your chin in your hands. Elias looks mildly amused as he hands you the papers.

“Nearly every day,” he says, “but then I save your life every day, so that seems fair.”

You grab the papers from his hands.

“You’re a lifesaver and the love of my life, Petey.”

You think back to when Elias just moved into your apartment building, only because Brock thought he needed someone to look after him. You could laugh, now, thinking about how wrong he’d been.

Elias is the most self-sufficient, independent person you know. You don’t think he’s ever needed anything from anyone. Like in hockey, where he can make the play and score the goal all at the same time, Elias has his life together.

Unlike you.

Despite the fact that Elias hadn’t needed much help from you, you had become very fast friends. His quick witted sarcasm always managed to make you laugh and he liked how upfront and honest you were with him about things. It was easy, too, to spend time together. With him living just across the hall, you found yourself wandering to his apartment whenever you were bored, and he showed up at yours often when he didn’t feel like cooking.

Just because he could cook, didn’t mean he always wanted to.

And ever since the two of you had become friends, Elias had your back. When you needed someone to water your plants, or feed your cat Puck – Brock had named him – or, apparently, bring you the important work papers that you forgot at home after having worked on them all weekend.

You groan as you flick through the papers. “I thought I was going to die. Without these I can��t finish my presentation.”

“When is it?” Elias asks, eyes searching behind you. You know he’s looking out for your asshole of a boss, who will use any excuse to yell at you, especially the unannounced visit of a friend.

“Tomorrow. I got all the content in these papers here, but I still have to make the PowerPoint.” You sigh. “It’s still so much work.”

“Oh.” Elias’ face lights up. “Almost forgot. Brought you this.” Triumphantly, he reaches down and comes up with a paper bag from your favorite coffee shop.

The words fall off your lips in a gasp. “You didn’t!”

“Strawberry scone and a large caramel macchiato with soy milk.” Elias grins. “I also got you a chocolate chip cookie for later.”

“Marry me,” you proclaim, as you make grabby hands for the bag. The coffee is precisely what you need and your mouth is already watering at the idea of the food.

“Get me a ring, then,” Elias jokes, as he starts getting up from the chair.

Something tightens in your stomach, so you quickly take a bite of the scone: anything to push those feelings to the side. It works a little, and at the very least it tastes amazing.

You’re just friends. If you were gonna be anything more, Elias would’ve made a move already. Or, if you’d been brave enough, you would’ve: but he’s never said anything to make you think he’s interested and quite frankly, you’re not that brave.

“Thank you,” you say, mouth still full of scone, and Elias wrinkles his nose at that as you knew he would.

“I’m going to the store now,” he says, “anything you want me to pick up for you?”

“Wine?” you ask, hopeful. “I’m gonna need it after today.”

Elias rolls his eyes at you, but when you come home after the most grueling day at work there’s a bottle of rosé sitting in your fridge, next to a bag full of your favorite Thai take out food.

Love you, you quickly text Elias, even though you know he can’t answer because the game is about to start.

You take some time showering and putting on comfortable clothes, then situate yourself on the couch and put on the game. It has already begun, and you know it’s not gonna be an easy one, against the Bruins.

It’s not until the first intermission, when you check your phone, that you see there’s a reply from Elias waiting for you.

It’s just a simple heart emoji, but it makes your heart race anyway.

2.

“This is the worst thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“I can barely hear you.” Fiona’s tone is disapproving, and you pull your mouth away from where you’d pressed it into your arm to scream.

“I said, this is the worst thing that’s ever happened to me!”

She laughs. “It’s just a car, Y/N.”

You don’t necessarily like your job, but Fiona is one of the reasons you’re still putting up with it. She’s not just a colleague anymore, slowly turning into a friend and someone you confide into about everything – even about your Elias problem – and you love her, but sometimes you could murder her.

“It’s not just a car,” you bite. “It’s my only mode of transportation, because you know how much I hate taking the bus, and it’s broken, and I probably can’t even afford to get it fixed. And now I have to walk home, and it’s raining.”

“Well, when you put it like that,” Fiona admits.

After a long day at work, you couldn’t wait to get home and watch The Bachelor until you fell asleep, your cat in your lap. However, when you finally got away from the office and stepped into your car, it was clear the universe had different plans.

It didn’t start.

After trying approximately 15 times, you’d screamed, nearly cried, hit the steering wheel, and then went back inside to scream and cry a little more at Fiona’s desk.

“I just wanna go home, Fi.” You know you sound miserable, but you honestly can’t help it. Taking the bus always heightens your anxiety, so you avoid it at all costs: however, walking home in this pouring rain doesn’t seem like much fun either.

And Fiona can’t even bring you home, because she takes the bus to work like a normal person.

“There’s a simple solution to this, you know,” Fiona says. She starts to organize the papers on her desk, a clear sign that she’s getting ready to leave the office as well. “You could just call…”

“No,” you interrupt her, knowing exactly where she’s going with this. “I can’t call Elias. He’s got the boys over today and I won’t interrupt his fun with my misery. Besides, he does too much for me already, I can’t ask him for more.”

“Right,” Fiona drawls, “but when he hears that you were stuck here and didn’t call him…”

She doesn’t finish her sentence, but she doesn’t have to.

Elias would be furious.

One time, you were on a night out when you got a little too tipsy and didn’t realize your phone had died. By the time you noticed, all your friends had already jumped in their respective Ubers, but you had been too busy chatting with some girl you didn’t know to order yours, and now you couldn’t because you didn’t have a phone. 

You knew you could’ve asked any random person to order you an Uber, or at least to borrow their phone to call Elias – it’s not like you didn’t know his number by heart – but that felt like too much. It had been 3 am and he had a game the next day, so you decided to walk home.

When he found out the next day, he got so mad he didn’t talk to you for 4 days. Eventually, you couldn’t take it anymore and just sat on his couch pouting at him until he spoke to you again.

“Something could’ve happened,” he’d muttered, explaining to you why he got mad in the first place. “And I’m your best friend, and you should know me enough to know that I would much rather you wake me up than you walk home alone.”

You did know that, and he was your best friend, and you’d promised him you’d never do it again.

It’s only that promise, that causes you to reach for your phone.

“I’m texting him, but if he’s busy, I’m walking,” you tell Fiona stubbornly. She ignores you, which is probably fair enough.

Hey, you busy right now? Are the guys still there?

The answer comes right away. What’s wrong?

Damn, he knows you too well. You quickly explain the situation and before you know it, Elias is on his way to come get you, and Fiona is bidding you goodbye after you promise her you’re fine on your own for the twenty minutes it’s gonna take Elias to get there.

You’re just checking your email on your phone when you hear the bell at the front door.

“I’m coming!” you call out. You hurry to grab your bags and then walk quickly to the door, where Elias is standing with his car keys between his fingers.

“So Bella finally gave up, huh?” he asks, a sly little smirk on his face. He always teases you with the fact that you named your car.

“Yes, and I know you told me,” you sigh, and it’s clear that he immediately – and correctly – reads your mood.

Without a word, he opens his arms, and you gratefully fall into them, hugging him tightly to your body. There’s very little in the world that brings you more comfort than one of Elias’ hugs: although being on Elias’ couch wearing one of his old hoodies watching some stupid reality show might come close.

“Let’s go home,” Elias finally mumbles, and he holds out an umbrella when he lets you go.

It’s raining really hard, and you know he has to park his car a little bit away because there’s no parking in front of your office, so you take it.

“You could’ve just called, I would’ve ran out,” you tell him sternly, but he shrugs.

“But then how would you have gotten the umbrella?”

You would tell him you’re not made of sugar, but as soon as you step outside the rain clatters loudly against the fabric of the umbrella and you realize you would’ve really, really hated to not have it, so you stay quiet.

Instead, you walk after him as he runs to his car and opens the passenger door for you. It’s still running, and the heater is on: only then do you realize you’re quite cold.

This morning they said it would be nice outside, so you didn’t bother to take a coat.

It’s quiet in the car for a while, but it’s not uncomfortable. It’s the silence that only comes when two people understand each other, and combined with the soft music that is playing on the radio it lulls you into a false sense of comfort.

Until you realize something.

“Oh God,” you groan, “I’m gonna have to call someone to tow Bella to a mechanic.”

Elias raises an eyebrow. “Well, you could just leave her there.”

Normally you would’ve at least playfully punched his arm for the sarcastic tone in his voice, but right now you’re too busy freaking out.

“And how am I gonna get to work tomorrow? Don’t you dare say you’ll bring me cause I know you’ve got morning practice and it’s super out of your way. Fuck, why did this have to happen to me?”

You let your head fall against the window. The glass is cold against your cheek and it’s enough to stop the spiraling in your brain at least for a second.

“Hey.” Elias’ voice has lost all sarcastic edge. It’s gentle now, and he’s speaking low as if not to startle you. “Don’t worry about it, okay? I’ll call the tow truck and the mechanic and get your car fixed. And Brock lives close enough that he can take me to and from practice and you can just take my car to work.”

It’s… a reasonable solution, but once again something that Elias has to go out of his way for, even just a little bit, and you feel something warm bloom inside your chest.

“Okay,” you answer, the stress already ebbing away. “Thank you. You’re the best.” You reach out and place your hand on his knee, squeezing slightly. “Seriously. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Elias mumbles something incoherent. You think you see some color on his cheeks, but surely that’s just because the heater is on, because there’s no way he’s blushing over something you said.

You turn off the heater, and let your thoughts wander as Elias drives you home.

3. 

Traveling is fun, but traveling for work is instantly a lot less fun. You really don’t know how Elias does it.

You’re feeling run down and jetlagged when you come back from your work trip, which is ridiculous cause you flew to Toronto, not to freaking Europe. But it’s late at night and the three days you were away were so busy you can barely remember sleeping at all.

Fiona slept on the plane, so she looks a little more alive than you when your feet touch the ground at Vancouver airport.

“Is Elias coming to pick you up?” Fiona asks, as you’re both walking through the gate.

You shake your head. “I’m sure he would’ve insisted if he could, but he’s in California right now. They played the Kings tonight and they’re playing the Sharks the day after tomorrow.”

“I wish I was in California,” Fiona says wistfully. It’s cold and wet in Vancouver and it wasn’t much better in Toronto. The tiredness doesn’t help: it feels as if the cold of the night is slowly creeping into your bones.

“Come on then, I’ll drop you off.” You thank Fiona and follow her to her car. Normally you wouldn’t have minded taking an Uber, but right now you just wanna get to bed as soon as possible.

“If I fall asleep, just let me sleep here,” you mumble, resting your head back against the head rest. Fiona laughs as she starts the car.

“No way, you’ll freeze to death.” She squints outside. “Do you think it’s gonna rain?”

“It always rains,” you say, despite the fact that it’s not raining at the moment.

Fiona turns onto the highway. “So, are you finally gonna put up that bookcase you bought?”

Involuntarily, you groan. “Stop, don’t remind me.”

Your old bookcase is big and ugly, and it has been a thorn in your eye ever since you moved in. The person that lived there before you left it there, and you only kept it because you couldn’t really afford not to.

Four weeks ago, you finally allowed yourself to buy a new, prettier bookcase.

But…

“It’s just so big,” you whine, repeating the excuses you’ve been giving Elias every single time he raises a judgmental eyebrow at the old bookcase still standing in your living room. “It’s gonna take forever to take it apart and then it’s gonna take me even longer to somehow get it all downstairs and get rid of it.”

“And then you have to build the new one,” Fiona nods understandingly. “And you’re not good with furniture.”

“Hey,” you protest, but it’s weak. You’re not good with furniture, which was proven when you tried to help Fiona move in and didn’t manage to help her put together anything at all. Instead she ended up with a table with three legs. 

You even tried to read the manual, but it’s just not your forte.

“I’ll do it,” you add, “I promise you I will. Just, maybe not this weekend…”

Fiona laughs, but she doesn’t call you out on the fact that it probably won’t happen during the week either.

Finally, you arrive at your building. You can’t wait to go to bed, and you thank Fiona multiple times before dragging your luggage upstairs. When you open the door to your apartment, Puck comes running up to you, meowing and weaving between your legs.

“Don’t be dramatic,” you tell the cat sternly. “Petey sent me many pictures of you sleeping in his lap and I know he feeds you chicken when he thinks I won’t notice, so you got spoiled this week.”

You lovingly scratch Puck’s ears, before flicking on the light and kicking the door behind you in the lock.

Instantly, you notice the difference.

Your apartment isn’t big: real estate in Vancouver isn’t cheap and your job isn’t great. You got this place mostly for the location, and you like the big windows in the apartment and how it manages to get in light even during the darkest of winter days.

One corner of your living room, however, was always darker than the others. The bookcase took away the entirety of the white wall, and it created a dim lit, sad looking corner.

Now, it’s open and bright, as your new bookcase stands proudly in its place.

There’s only one person who would’ve done that.

The phone rings a few times, but you know the Kings game ended a while ago so you let it ring. After a while, Elias picks up.

“Sorry for the background noise,” is the first thing he says. “We’re on the plane. Taking off in a few minutes, probably.”

In the background, you hear some yelling. Probably Jake.

“You put up my bookcase,” you blurt out, ignoring Elias’ statement. “You put it up and all the books are in it and the other one is gone.”

Elias sounds a little smug when he answers. “Well, it’s not like you were ever gonna do it.”

“Thank you.” To your own horror, you can feel tears burning behind your eyes. “Elias, seriously…”

“It’s nothing.” You can hear Elias’ smile even over the phone: you know everyone always makes fun of his deadpan tone when he talks to media but with his friends, his voice always betrays everything he’s feeling. “I know you were worried about it, and I know how much you hated that old one.” He laughs. “I get why now, by the way. It took me and Brock like four hours to get that thing out.”

“Brock helped too?”

“He did.” Elias is silent for a while, but in the background you hear another voice. “Brock says to tell you that I forced him. But that’s not entirely true.”

Entirely. You know Elias definitely did force him.

“Tell him thank you too.”

“He says you’re welcome,” Elias says, quick enough that it makes you think Brock didn’t say that at all. “We’re about to take off so I have to put my phone on airplane mode. But call me tomorrow okay? I wanna hear about your work trip.”

“Okay.” For some reason, you can still feel the lump in your throat. You didn’t notice it momentarily, while you were focused on Elias’ and Brock’s bickering, but now it’s back, and with a vengeance.

Fuck. You just…

“I miss you.” You blurt it out before you can stop yourself and if anyone would ask, you would blame the exhaustion and the fact that Elias can’t see how wet your eyes are over the phone.

“I’ll be back soon,” he answers softly, and his voice is gentle in a way that makes you think he knows about the tears, anyway. “And when I am, we’re gonna take a whole night to eat food and stare at that bookcase, because it needs to be appreciated after the effort I had to put in to build it.”

You laugh before quietly saying goodbye to Elias and hanging up the phone.

In the kitchen, Puck sits in front of the fridge. When you open it there’s a pan with chicken.

For Puck the note next to it says, and you send Elias a picture of Puck with his chicken.

“He spoils you,” you tell your cat. You decide to ignore the fact that he kinda spoils you, too.

4. 

When you open the door to your apartment, you’re met with the smell of garlic.

After yet another shitty day at work, you can already feel the lump in your throat building again. You didn’t even tell him, this time. In fact, you carefully avoided his texts because you knew he’d clock that something was wrong.

Fuck. That’s probably where you went wrong in the first place; usually you never ignored Elias’ texts.

“Hello?” you call out into your own apartment.

There’s soft music playing and there’s light coming from the living room, but the amazing smell that tickles your senses is clearly coming from the kitchen, so that’s where you go.

Elias is standing at your kitchen counter, chopping a carrot.

“Hey,” he greets, smiling your way. “I’m making dinner.”

It’s almost too much, how domestic it looks. And how right: like he belongs there in your space, waiting for you to come home.

Suddenly there’s the overwhelming urge to go towards him, so you do. His arm immediately lifts, creating space for you in the crook of his body, and you slip under his arm easily.

“How did you know?” you mumble into the fabric of his worn Canucks hoodie. It smells like him, a scent that reminds you of home as much as your mother’s signature dish.

“You didn’t answer my texts,” Elias hums. His arm tightens around your body. “So I figured you could use some good food and a bath.” His head motions towards the general direction of the bathroom. “I’m running it as we speak.”

God. You love him.

It hits you, then. You knew you had a crush on him, knew you wanted to kiss him and hold his hand and feel his hands on you. But it’s more than that, now.

It’s the realization that you want to share everything with him. The ups and the downs. The bad nights and the bright mornings. You want him in your kitchen, but more than that, you want it to be his kitchen, too.

Fuck. You’re so royally screwed.

Because he does this, and he does so much for you, but he’s never said anything, anything at all, to indicate that he wants that. Or has even considered it, thought about it.

Maybe it’s never even crossed his mind. Maybe he takes care of you like he would take care of a sister.

“Hey.” Elias’ voice is gentle as it pulls you out of your thoughts, back down to earth. “You’re shaking. Go take a bath, and I’ll finish dinner, and then we’ll watch How I Met Your Mother. I wanted to watch the next episode but I waited for you.” His grin is a little lopsided. “Isn’t that chivalrous of me?”

It is, and normally you would tease him for it, but you can’t really think or speak, so you just nod.

“There’s wine in the fridge, if you want a glass,” Elias says. He holds out a wine glass, already waiting for you on the counter.

And who cares that it’s only a Tuesday: you deserve it, damn it, so you open the fridge to find the wine.

You’re met with more than just that.

“You bought groceries?” you ask, your eyes traveling through your fridge. You hadn’t gone grocery shopping in like a week, and when you left for work this morning the fridge was basically empty. Now it’s so full you wonder how you’re gonna close the door.

“How else was I gonna cook anything? You only had cat food left,” Elias tuts. You’re not surprised to find Puck at Elias’ feet, waiting for him to inevitably slip him some human food.

“Did you get…”

“Your coconut yoghurt? Yes.”

He did, and he got basically all your staples, and nothing you wouldn’t buy yourself.

“Honestly,” you say, as you finally reach for the bottle and pull your head out of the fridge. “I don’t know what to say, Petey. Thank you. I had such a sucky day and now it’s already endlessly better.”

This time you know you’re not imagining the flush on Elias’ cheeks.

“It’s fine,” he says. “You should go take that bath before it goes cold.”

You want to say more: to tell him time and time again how amazing he is, how much he means to you, how thankful you are. But you know once you start, you can’t be trusted to not say the one thing you don’t think he wants to hear.

So you say nothing, and simply go to take your bath.

+1

But you think about it.

You think about it all throughout Christmas, where you don’t see Elias at all. You think about it during NYE, when you get a drunk SnapChat from Elias with his brother, right at midnight.

At least, you figure, he’s not kissing any girls.

You’re not kissing any boys, either. You’re at a NYE party with Fiona and it’s fun, it is, but it’s not the same as it would be if Elias wasn’t all the way in Sweden.

You miss him like a limb, and you know it’s not fair because he rarely gets time to go home to Sweden and he deserves that time with his family, but you can’t say you didn’t wish his time off ended already.

When it finally does, it’s not Elias you see first. Troy is throwing a late New Years party, just to welcome everyone back to Vancouver as they get ready to start the season back up, and when you arrive at his house it’s early enough in the evening that there’s only a handful of people there.

“Y/N!” Brock calls out, opening his arms to give you a big hug as you enter. “Missed you!”

You laugh. “Get off of me, you giant. I’m gonna drop the wine.”

“Not the wine,” Troy says dramatically, tearing it out of your hands. His eyes are sparkling when he thanks and hugs you, and then Brock is ushering you into the living room, where Jake is talking with Quinn.

Or talking at Quinn. To be honest, you never really know when Quinn is paying attention.

“Y/N!” Jake exclaims, much like Brock had. “I’m glad you’re here, we need your input on something.”

“Okay?” you ask, curiosity instantly taking over. Whenever Jake and Brock get together, it promises to be an interesting evening.

“We’re trying to decide Brock’s love language.”

It’s sudden enough that you laugh. “His what?”

“Love language,” Jake explains. “Like, how he shows people he loves them. He says it’s quality time, but I think it could be physical touch. He’s always touching people.”

“Jake is deflecting because his love language is physical touch,” Brock scowls. “I think I know my own love language, Tuna.”

“Hold on.” Unfortunately, you have to press the pause button on their discussion. “What options do we have?”

You’ve got no idea where they got this from, but it doesn’t really matter. You’re always down to share your opinion on stupid stuff with your favorite boys.

“There’s gifts, quality time, physical touch, words of affirmation, and…” Brock pauses, and you can nearly see the wheels in his head turning.

“Acts of service,” Quinn offers, which proves that he was actually paying attention.

“Mine is physical touch,” Jake says determinedly. “When I care about someone, I always wanna be touching them, and when I’m in love with someone that’s like twenty times worse.”

“Poor girl,” Quinn mutters, and the conversation gets paused in order for Jake to put Quinn in a headlock.

“I think yours is quality time, actually,” you tell Brock when Jake is done murdering the rookie. “Your ex was always on her phone during your date nights and I remember it drove you crazy.”

“See,” Brock says proudly. “Quality time baby. If I’m there I’m there.”

“What about yours, Huggy?” Jake asks. “Physical touch would make sense, since you’re called Huggy.”

“I’m not called Huggy,” Quinn deadpans. His face is devoid of any emotion, but you know him well enough to recognize the mischievous twinkle in his eyes. He reminds you of Elias, when he does that. “And if we were going by nicknames your love language would be fishing.”

Everyone cracks up on that, and then the doorbell rings and Bo arrives.

The topic gets put on hold, then, because Bo is instantly talking about Gunnar’s first Christmas and Brock is talking about becoming an uncle again and you feel warm and happy on the couch with your wine, squeezed between Brock and Troy.

Until, a little later, you realize someone is missing.

“Where’s Petey?” you ask Troy. “Isn’t he coming?”

Troy shrugs. “Should do. But you never know with Pete.”

It’s not entirely true: if Elias promises he’ll be there, he will be there. But, to be fair, he usually doesn’t promise that to anyone but you, and you hadn’t asked him to come, this time.

You figured he just would.

“What about Petey’s love language?” Brock asks idly, not knowing he’s opening Pandora’s box for you. “Definitely not words of affirmation, huh.”

Troy laughs.

“Nah, Petey’s an acts of service guy. He’s always doing shit for Y/N.”

You would protest if you trusted your voice not to shake. As it is, you stay quiet and hope the flush on your cheeks gets mistaken for a wine flush, and not an Elias flush.

Brock brightens. “Oh, yeah! Getting her car fixed, making dinner, building her stupid bookshelf, feeding her cat… He is a typical acts of service guy.” He bumps against your shoulder playfully. “I hope you appreciate his showing of love, Y/N. He rarely does that shit for me.”

Troy snorts. “That’s cause he’s not in love with you, Boes.”

“He’s not in love with me either!” you squeak, unable to stay quiet any longer. You know if you don’t derail this trail of thought very soon, it’s gonna end badly for you.

Both Troy and Brock look unimpressed, at that statement.

“Yes, he is,” Brock says slowly, as if explaining something to an unruly child. “He drops whatever he has going on to do small things that make your life easier. That’s literally the same as him screaming I’m in love with you from the highest rooftop in Vancouver.”

“He’s not like you,” Troy continues, a little more gentle. “When people have different love languages, they don’t always understand what the other is trying to say. Your love language is words of affirmation. You’re always telling Petey how amazing he is. But he doesn’t see that as a declaration of love, or whatever. He thinks you tell everyone that they’re amazing.”

You do, to be fair, but not as often as you tell Elias. Because he’s…

Well. Amazing would be an understatement, actually. He’s everything to you.  

Things are starting to make sense, like puzzle pieces fitting into place. Suddenly, you start wondering if there’s more to his acts of service than plain friendship, or him being a good guy.

It’s not like he does stuff like that for all his friends. He helps them out, sure, but he always goes above and beyond for you, usually not even needing to be asked.

But he’s not in love with you, surely? He hasn’t said anything…

But maybe words aren’t his thing. Not like they are yours: the way you can’t stop yourself from gushing into Elias’ ear even when you know you should stop.

What if Brock and Troy are right?

You don’t get much time to think it through, because that’s when Elias finally appears in Troy’s living room, looking endlessly cool in his blue sweater, wearing his glasses. He’s sending death glares at Jake, who wolf whistles from the corner, but then his eyes meet yours and they soften.

“Hi there,” he smiles, reaching out to you. You immediately jump up and launch yourself at him, any previous conversation about the two of you momentarily forgotten as you curl your body into his, his arms tightening around your waist.

“Missed you,” you hum into his shoulder, and you’re rewarded with a grin you can feel against the skin of your neck.

“Are you sure hers isn’t physical touch?” you hear Brock ponder, and you would flip him off if you could be bothered.

You can’t. All you can be bothered doing is plastering yourself to Elias’ side and not leaving him alone even for a second, the rest of the night.

It works at least for a while, until he asks: “Do you want another drink?”

“I’ll go with you,” you say, not willing to part with him yet, and you ignore the knowing look Brock shoots you as the two of you find your way to the kitchen.

Elias immediately goes for the wine, because he knows you better than anyone else.

“I asked my dad about the job,” Elias mentions casually, as if it’s not a big deal at all. “He thinks he can get you an interview.”

“Wait, what?”

Suddenly your heart is ticking in your throat. Before he left for Sweden, Elias had mentioned that his dad knows a guy who works for a similar company as you’re working for now: apart from the shitty boss you have or the ridiculous low salary you get paid. It’s your job, but better, and Elias promised you he’d get his dad to ask if there were any open positions.

There were. And you sent in your application not thinking there was gonna come much from it, but now…

Something warm washes through your chest, like your heart grew three sizes. Of course he asked, of course he made it happen. Looking out for you, always and at any time, from any distance.

“It’s not a done deal,” Elias warns, oblivious to your mental breakdown. “But he said he thinks they’ll like you and he’ll put in a good word for you.”

You squeal and throw yourself in his direction once again. Elias laughs as he catches you, fingers curling in your hair where your face is pressed against his chest.

“Thank you,” you mumble.

“It’s about time you get rid of that dumb job.” You can hear the frown in Elias’ voice. “They don’t take good care of you at all, it’s not good for you.” The distaste is obvious and it’s adorable. You pull away.

“I don’t need them to,” you say, carefully. You can still hear Brock’s words in your voice, and you figure it’s worth a try, probably. “Because you’re always there to take care of me.”

Elias’ cheeks darken substantially.

“I mean it when I say I don’t know what I’d do without you, Elias.”

“You’d be fine,” Elias waves away the compliment as you figured he would. But this time you’re not backing down.

“Maybe I would be. But I wouldn’t be as happy.”

They say when you really love a person, you’ve got to show them. But you’ve never really known how to do that, instead you always use your words to tell them. But it seems like Elias isn’t believing you, not even now.

And you’ve got to fix that.

It’s not until you’re in Elias’ car on the way back home that you bring it up again. The party wasn’t really the time and place, but the conversation with Brock and the guys has been nagging in the back of your mind since it happened.

If you didn’t realize Elias’ acts of service meant something, maybe he doesn’t realize your words of affirmation mean something. And even if it doesn’t mean he’s in love with you – you’re really not that sure about that – you need him to at least know how much you appreciate him.

“You know I’m always there for you, right?” you start, carefully breaking the silence in the car. Elias shoots you a glance from behind the steering wheel.

“What?”

“Like, even if I’m maybe not as good as you are at realizing what you need me to do, if there’s ever anything I can do to help make your life a little easier or better I wanna do it. I’d do anything for you.”

It’s too honest, probably, and too much all at the same time. But Elias doesn’t look that surprised. In fact, there’s a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“You make my life better by just being you, Y/N. You don’t have to do anything for me.”

Butterflies erupt in your stomach and you wonder how you’re gonna get through this conversation. But it’s one that needs to be held, so you press on.

“What is your love language, Elias?”

Now he frowns. “Have you been talking to Brock?”

Of course Brock talked to Elias before he talked to you. The traitor.

You decide to ignore that, for now. You’ll talk to Brock later.

“You know my love language is words of affirmation, right?”

Elias shrugs. “Brock did say that, but I didn’t know what you thought it was.”

“And yours is acts of service,” you hazard a guess. You keep your eyes firmly on Elias’ face, which is the only reason you catch the slight change in his expression.

Like a wall, crossing over his features. He’s trying to protect himself, although you have no idea why. Does he not get where you’re going with this?

“I can tune it down if you want me to,” he says, a little grumpily. He’s staring straight ahead at the road, stubbornly refusing to look your way.

And oh God, he’s truly not getting it, and this is going the exact opposite way you want it to go.

Troy did say that when people’s love languages don’t match, they don’t understand what the other is trying to say. But you honestly don’t know how you can make it any more clear to Elias.

Well, except…

“I love you,” you blurt out. “Like, in love with you love you.”

The words ring loudly in the quiet car. For a second, nothing about Elias’ expression, almost like he didn’t hear you. You can almost feel your heart sink into your stomach.

Then, he pulls over the car.

It comes to a stop at the side of the road, two wheels on the pavement and two still on the road. It is, objectively, not super safe, but it’s also 3am and there’s no other cars to be seen. Very carefully, without looking at you still, Elias turns on the hazard lights.

And then finally, finally, he turns to you and kisses you.

You weren’t expecting it but it doesn’t really matter: it’s like your heart and head both light on fire, and everything outside of the car simply disappears. It’s just you and Elias, and his lips on yours and his hands on your body.

It feels right. Like it was always meant to end up like this.

After what feels like ages, he pulls away. He’s smiling, and his eyes are bright blue in the dark car.

“I thought you said those kinda things to everyone,” he admits, quietly. His thumb is rubbing your side, his eyes fixed on that spot. Almost as if he can’t really believe he’s allowed to do that.

You don’t want him to ever do anything else.

“I thought you did those kinda things for everyone,” you shoot back.

Elias raises one eyebrow. “That bookcase weighed at least 300 pounds.”

You can’t help it: giggles are escaping your lips and suddenly you’re both laughing. The tension in the car dissipates instantly, and suddenly it’s just Elias again, your best friend.

Your best friend that you’re now allowed to kiss. So you lean in and press your lips against his again.

After all, kissing is a love language you think everyone understands.

(+2)

“I’m home!” Elias’ voice sounds through the empty apartment, and you immediately leave your spot behind the kitchen counter to run into the hallway.

With a squeal, you fly towards him, and he catches you easily as you knew he would.

“Hey, babe,” he laughs quietly, pressing a kiss into your hair before returning the hug fully. “Is that my sweater?”

“Maybe,” you admit, as Elias’ hands make their way under his own blue sweater, that you definitely steal from him most evenings. “Missed you. And I’m very proud of you.”

“I missed you too,” he answers. “Watched the game?”

“Obviously.” You roll your eyes, even though you know he can’t see it with your face still buried in his shoulder. “A hat trick, huh? I think that needs to be celebrated.”

“Oh?” Elias pulls away then, one eyebrow raised and a cheeky twinkle in his eyes.

“Not like that,” you scold him, lightly punching his arm. “Or, maybe like that. But first, I made Kalops.”

At the mention of his favorite Swedish food, Elias’ face lights up. A while ago, you asked his mom for her recipe and it’s one of the only Swedish dishes you can make, but you make it well.

“Also,” you continue, as you take his hand and start leading him towards the kitchen, so he can sit at the counter while you cook as he always does, “I called the electrician so the TV is already fixed. I know you could have done it, but I decided I’d much rather use that time to hang out with you. I took Puck to get his shots at the vet and I also used my free afternoon to take your car through the car wash.”

When you reach the kitchen, you twirl around towards Elias and his arms immediately circle around your waist.

“You didn’t have to do all that,” he mutters, taking the opportunity to kiss you once more. “But thank you. I love that you took the time to take care of that for me. And I love you.”

“Look at us,” you tease, lightly tugging at the ends of Elias’ hair. “Speaking each other’s love language like that.”

“Perfect couple,” Elias agrees, and you smile back at him.

Somehow, you and Elias managed to create a language of your own: one that you could speak with nobody else. But luckily, you don’t have to.

Cause he came home to your shared apartment like he always does, and well. That’s the biggest act of service he could do for you.  

[spencerreidismyonetruelove]

Stay With Me

Pairing: Spencer Reid x BAU Fem!Reader

Summary: Y/N is a member of the BAU team and Spencer’s girlfriend. She was an EMT in college and keeps her certification up to date. In the season 9 two part finale, Spencer pushes Y/N out of the way of that bullet instead of Blake. Now she has to keep him alive and with her.

A/N: This is my first Spencer Reid x Reader Fic. I am an actual real life EMT so this is 100% self indulgent. I hope you like it!

Word Count: 2.2K

Warnings: Injury, Blood, Angst (but ends in fluff)

Spencer and I arrive at the restaurant with Sheriff Coleman and a few officers. Mills is inside, but no movement has been spotted yet. The officers want to move in now, but Spencer explains that it is safer to establish a perimeter and try to open a line of communication first. We begin to establish a game plan.

That is when the first shot was fired. Sheriff Coleman goes down, as the rest of us duck for cover. All of a sudden, there are shots everywhere. I look down and Sheriff Coleman is looking back at me as he clutches his side. On instinct, I crouch around the patrol car door I’m behind, and attempt to pull Coleman to safety.

I hear Spencer shout my name while he shoves me to the side. When I turn back to face him, Morgan is there. “Reid!” he yells, as he lunges forward to grab him. J.J. appears next to me and helps me begin to drag Coleman out of the line of fire. As a bullet hits him between the eyes, J.J. and I let him go and dive out of the way.

I scramble my way over to where Morgan has Spencer propped behind a car. There is so much blood that at first I can’t tell where he was shot. I finally find the wound on the side of his neck. I press my hands to the wound and attempt to stop the flow of blood between my fingers.

“Not today, Spencer,” I say only to him, before turning my head. “I need a medic!” I scream in the direction of one of the near by officers. With help on the way, I focus on trying to keep Spencer awake. “Hey,” I begin, looking into his large brown eyes. “You are not going to die on me today. You keep your eyes open, do you hear me? Eyes on me. You stay with me, Spencer. You stay awake, and you stay. With. Me.” I watch in horror as his eyes begin to roll and his eyelids flutter. “WHERE IS MY MEDIC?” I shout as loud as my lungs can manage as my chest feels like it’s collapsing.

As if on cue, a pair of men roll a stretcher up next to me. Suddenly, all of my years working on an ambulance seem like yesterday rather than back in college. “32 year old male, single GSW to the side of the neck. I’ve got the bleeding somewhat controlled, but he’s lost consciousness. Pulse is still strong under my hand, approximately 100 beats a minute. If you two can get him on the stretcher, I can keep this under control. But, we have to move now, he is losing too much blood.” The quick report flows from my lips to the two Medics easily. They quickly lift him onto the stretcher as I hold his wound and support his head. Once he is secure, I climb into the stretcher as well and straddle Spencer’s legs as I hold the wound as tightly as I can without cutting off his air. “Let’s go, NOW!” I bark at the Medics, and they wheel us to the waiting ambulance.

When we are inside, away from the gun fire, I am joined by one of the Medics as the other slams the doors behind us and jumps up front. A second pair of hands joins mine holding gauze. I help the medic wrap the wound, and then I climb off of Spencer and move to the side. I wipe my hands quickly on my pants and hold one out, “Shears.” It’s a single word, a command, and the medics places them in my hand. In record time, I have Spencer’s vest removed and his shirt cut in the area of his wound searching for other injuries.

Once I am sure we have all the bleeding controlled, I sit to the side out of the way of the Medic and grasp Spencer’s hand in both of my own. It’s cold, and I squeeze it tightly. “You do what you do, keep him alive,” I say to the medic. “I can't lose him.” I choke on a single sob before I’m rambling to Spencer. “I don’t know if you can hear me right now, Spence, but I’m just going to assume that you can. You are not allowed to die right now. We are on our way to the hospital, we are going to get you all fixed up. You’ll be good as new, and you will have an awesome scar to rub in Morgan’s face. But you have to stay with me, baby. I cannot do this job without you by my side. So right now I need you to open your eyes. Fight, Spence. Fight to stay with me.”

I take a deep breath, and Spencer begins mumbling. “The sound is like a tea kettle. Did you hear it?” His eyelids are fluttering again. And I watch as he begins looking round the ambulance.

“What?” Is all I can ask before the beeping of the equipment grows louder and the Medic says something. I don’t hear his words, I’m too focused on Spencer’s face. His eyes begin to slip closed and I can't help but yell, “Drive faster!” I choke on a second sob, “Stay with me, Spence. I’m right here, stay with me.”

When we arrive at the hospital, Spencer is unloaded and taken immediately into surgery. I clutch onto his hand until the hospital staff stops me at a set of doors. I’m forced to stand back and watch as they whisk him away. Instantly, I am numb. I allow a woman in scrubs to walk me into a nearby waiting room. I wash my hands in the waiting room bathroom before wandering back into the empty room. I stand, surrounded by empty chairs and small tables covered in old magazines, for what could have been seconds or hours, until J.J. arrives. She rushes into the room and asks, “Any news?” as she approaches me.

I shake my head, “No.” My voice sounds small and rough. I clear my throat before speaking again, “They took him straight to surgery, and no one has come back to tell me anything yet.” J.J. guides me to a seat and helps me remove my vest. “It should have been me,” I whisper as she sits across from me.

“Or me, or any of us,” she replies as if to agree with me.

“No,” I cut her off. “He pushed me out of the way. That bullet was meant for me. If he doesn’t make it…” I trail off, unable to speak anymore.

“He’ll make it,” She assures me. “He has to. There are still things for you two to do. Do you know that he wants kids? I mean, have you two talked about that? Can you imagine Spence as a dad?” She chuckles and smiles slightly. She looks as if she is going to continue, but Penelope and Cruz join us in the room. “You’re here,” J.J. says to Penelope as she gets up to hug her.

“Yeah, it turns out we’re not the only one that’s connected and he knows somebody with a plane,” Penelope replies gesturing to Cruz. “How is he?”

“Still in surgery,” I tell her as I also give her a hug. As a man in scrubs enters the room my eyes are on him and he immediately has my full attention.

“You all can see Agent Morgan now,” He says and my gaze shoots to J.J.

“A bullet grazed his arm,” she explains quickly. “He’s fine.”

I nod and take my seat again, “I’m gonna stay here. I’ll call you when I have any news.” They all nod and turn to follow the man.

Penelope turns back to me. “Hey,” she says grabbing my attention. “I’ll be right back.” I nod to her as she follows Cruz and J.J.

I was pacing the room when another man in Scrubs enters the room, “Agent?”

“How is he?” I ask quickly and suck in a breath, trying to prepare for the worst.

“Incredibly lucky,” he starts, and I let out the breath shakily. “Two millimeters to the right and the bullet would have torn through the carotid artery. It nicked the smaller vessels, but we stopped the bleeding. You can see him now.” He led me to Spencer’s room and he looked so fragile laying in the hospital bed. I sat next to him in the cheap chair and called J.J. to give her the news. Penelope joined me in the room and began setting a few small Doctor Who figures on the table in front of Spencer.

“Wouldn’t it be great if he wakes up and this is the first thing he sees?” She asks me, smiling. I return her smile and nod before turning back to look at Spencer’s face. I take a deep breath and lean back in the chair to wait for him to wake up. As I’m sitting there my mind wanders back to a night at home, a few weeks ago…

Spencer is laying on his back in our bed and pulls me to him so my head rests on his bare chest. He wraps me in his arms and presses a kiss to the top of my hair. “I love you, so much,” he mumbles into my hair. “It is wonderful that I get to work with you so I’m hardly away from your side, but Y/N, it is also terrifying. What we do is just so dangerous, and I don’t know what I would do if I lost you.” I can feel him take a deep breath as he squeezes me tighter.

I let him hold me for a moment before I pull back so I can look into his eyes as I speak, “And I love you. I know you always have my back in the field, and I always have yours. As long as we are together, and we are always protecting each other, we are going to be fine. I’ll always have your 6, Spence.” I stretch up to kiss him before curling back against his chest and falling asleep there.

That night we slept completely wrapped around each other. I always sleep the best when he is with me and I know that he is safe. And I know I do the same for him, so without thinking I reach out and hold his hand. If he is going to heal, he needs his rest so I will do what I can to let him know I’m here.

After a while, Spencer wakes up. His eyes search the room for a moment before focusing on the toys Penelope sat out in front of him, and he smiles. “Hey,” I whisper to him as to not startle him. “Look who is finally awake.” I beam at him as he turns his eyes to meet mine. Penelope grabs a nurse and they come in to check on Spencer’s vitals and bandaging. Once they give us the all clear I leave Penelope with Spencer so I can go search for something for Spencer to eat. He asks for Jello, which makes me laugh.

As I’m around the corner from Spencer’s room I hear it. A single gunshot. I drop the tray I’m holding and pull out my gun as I run the few steps to the room. Penelope is holding Spencer’s gun and there is an orderly on the floor bleeding. I can see a gun in his waistband.

Penelope is shaking as she starts to speak, “I didn't... he's moving, okay. I didn't know how loud. I can't hear except for my heart, cause it feels like it’s gonna come out. Can that happen? Physically? Can your heart burst out of your chest? And what is this ringing? My ears don't pop for like a week after I fly and this is like that. That's gonna drive me bonkers. Am I yelling? Because it feels like I might be yelling.” She is not yelling at all, her voice is little more than a shaky whisper as Spencer gently takes the gun from her hands.

“You saved my life. Can you hear me?” Spencer asks her, as Penelope’s eyes search his face.

She looks so surprised and then relieved as she nods, “Yeah, I heard that! That makes it better. Thank you for saying that!” She leans forward to gingerly hug him.

“Thank you for doing it,” He replies as he hugs her back. When they pull apart, they both look at me. “Hey, where is my Jello?” Is the first thing Spencer asks me as I shake my head.

He almost dies twice in only a few hours, and all the man cares about is the fact that his Jello is now splattered on the floor of the hallway. “I’ll have a nurse get you some. Apparently, I cannot let you out of my sight.” I smile and kiss him. But I know he is okay, and we are all going to be fine.

[tangledstarlight]

Written for Day Two of Jukebox Appreciation Week: Alternative Universe –– @jukebox-week​

here is my, somewhat anticipated, firefighter!luke au. this got. so long guys. i’m so sorry. it became a 5+1 and i lost control. this all started because i wanted to see luke do a pole slide and i didnt even fit it in smh. also check out this amazing art by mamirugbee if you get the chance too!! anyway, much love!! enjoy!! 

also on ao3!

lil disclaimer: i’ve never been to la and i’m not a firefighter, i tried to do as much research as i could but firefighter forums aren’t helpful as you’d expect for somethings, who knew! so take everything with big dose of suspension of belief please! 

trigger warnings! mentions of blood & injuries (nothing graphic), lots of swearing, fire.

RATED T –– there’s no graphic scenes but there’s a lot of kissing and fading to black, so rating might change if anyone needs me to 😬

Word count: 21,184

ONE

When he was a kid Luke had had a lot of dream jobs.

There was a week when he’d wanted to be a landscape gardener after watching too many renovation shows during a week off school sick. When he was eleven he’d seriously considered being a doctor for approximately two days after watching too many reruns of ER with his mom, but it was quickly pointed out to him that he would need to go school for years. And he’d given serious consideration into being a professional bungee jumper, which he still maintains is a real career path and he’d have been excellent at it.

But then he’d discovered music when he was thirteen when his parents had given him a guitar for his birthday, and that had been it.

That was his dream.

To stand on a stage and play for an audience and create a connection with the world. And he’s pretty sure he could have done it. It would have been the dream he reached.

But then the garage they rented to rehearse caught fire while he was asleep on the ratty old sofa they’d found on the street. And maybe the fire itself wouldn’t have been enough to make him change his dreams, but everything that happened afterwards?

Well, there’s nothing like almost dying to reorder your life, right?

(It’s the story he tells everyone if they ask, it’s the one he almost believes too.)

The owners of the house had left a candle burning or forgot to unplug a toaster or something mundane and silly like that. Something that people always warn about but never think will happen to them. He doesn’t know. He can’t remember.

All he knows is he’d been sleeping on the sofa and the garage had gotten warm and he’d woken up to a room full of smoke. There had been a moment of panic, as he sat frozen, chest having and eyes stinging, before he’d jumped up, grabbed his guitar, his notebook, his phone and ran outside.

Luke remembers watching the flames grow higher and higher in the garage, smoke following after him from the door he’d just run from. He remembers watching them seem to jump from the roof of the house to the garage. He remembers seeing Mrs Anderson running up to him, the oldest daughter trailing behind with wide eyes, and asking for his phone. He remembers fishing it from his pocket and dialing 911. He remembers the moment he heard the line click, a voice asking him a question as his eyes locked on the house and he saw two hands hitting at the upstairs window.

After that he doesn’t really remember much of anything, he tells everyone.

Except that he does.

He can still remember the heat on his skin, how he’d been grateful for once that he’d fallen asleep in his coat. He remembers his lungs aching as he sucked in smoke and coughed it back out. He remembers a split second decision. Guitar and notebook falling to the ground and running into the house as Mrs Anderson screamed something behind him.

He remembers, as he tried to cover his mouth, his nose, with the sleeve of his coat, thinking that this would be an awful way to die. He remembers not wanting to. He remembers, as he kicks down the jammed door of the youngest kids bedroom, how he really wanted to hug his mom again. He remembers someone screaming and his name being called and throwing a blanket over his head, a weight in his arms he doesn’t remember picking up. He remembers flames and heat and wet tears on his neck and gasping for breaths and then he really doesn’t remember anything at all.

Until he wakes up in a hospital bed and his mom is in the chair next to him and it hurts a little to breathe and there’s bandages on his arms but he’s alive and Luke’s pretty sure that’s the important part to remember.

It’s the part he remembers when the doctors say he can’t play his guitar for a couple of weeks while the skin on his hands and arms heals, that he should avoid straining his voice for a while. It’s the part he remembers when they pick through the rubble and burnt out remains of the garage he’d called home for the last few weeks. It’s the part he remembers when Alex and Reggie tell him it’s okay that they take a break from ‘breaking into the music scene’ while he heals and they find a new place to rehearse and replace their equipment.

It’s the part he remembers when the Anderson’s show up at his parents house with flowers and a basket of snacks and thank him.

He’s alive and they’re alive and part of that is down to him.

And it’s that bit that keeps tripping him up. No one has ever called him a hero before, but that kid does. The youngest Anderson that he’s shared maybe five words with before running into a burning building to carry out. He’d called him a hero and hugged him and Luke had spent the next hour trying to figure out what that meant to him.

Music was his dream. He was pretty sure it was his heart and his soul and everything in between. But it hurts to talk for the first few days after and it hurts to sing for a few weeks after that and, without really noticing it, he ends up back at school. And then he’s graduating and Alex is going to UCLA and Reggie decides he wants to be a teacher and the band is at a stand still.

And Luke— doesn’t mind as much as he thought he would. Doesn’t mind putting this dream on hold while he maybe explores something new. Something he’d never even thought about before.

(And if telling people about the fire kept them from asking why he no longer sang, well, that was a bonus. He nearly died, that was a good enough reason to reorder anyone's life. Right? They didn’t need to know about his performance issues.)

The point was, Luke had once dreamt of playing music to the world and leaving a mark, something to be remembered by.

And then he’d nearly died and music had to wait and he...found a new sort of dream. It wasn’t exactly making a connection with everyone but for the couple of minutes he was carrying someone out of a burning building? It was a connection that would leave a mark, at least for a little while. And it really didn’t hurt that people seemed to love a man in a firefighter uniform.

But just because his dream of playing music didn’t come true didn’t mean he didn’t still love it. Which was why standing outside the burning record store was really hurting his heart.

“Do we know if there’s anyone inside?” He calls over to his captain who’s already directing people around, but Luke’s eyes are on the windows of the second floor and the smoke he can already see against the glass.

“Not that we—” the words have barely left Harrison’s mouth when they both see a face through the smoke and hands banging on the glass. Whoever it is looks like they try opening the window but nothing happens and their knocking on the glass gets more frantic.

“Roof, window or stairs?” He asks, already flipping his visor down and checking the straps across his waist holding everything important.

“Stairs, they’ve cleared the side entrance. Try to come out the same way you go in this time, Patterson. And take Danforth,” she waves one hand in the air but Luke is already heading towards the side of the building, his mind already ten steps ahead.

Get to the door. Check his oxygen. Check Danforth isn’t about to fuck things up. Count to five in his head and walk inside a burning building..

“Going in now,” he says into his radio, as he nods his head at Danforth and pushes on ahead.

Lukes has been into a lot of fires since that first one when he was seventeen and running on nothing but adrenaline and impulse. But there’s still always a moment after he first steps inside a burning building that feels the same as the first time. A rush of heat, heart pounding, thoughts running wild about how this would be an awful way to die.

Then he sucks in a breath, lets the weight of all his equipment resettle on his body, in his mind, and he gets on with his job.

And sure okay, he still runs mostly on the adrenaline coursing through his veins, but he’s pretty proud to say he thinks things through a little more now.

Mostly.

They make it up the stairs and through the flat's front door with little issue, which is, of course, when the issues decide to show up. He can see why the girl in the window was looking frantic, and swears at the fact no one downstairs had noticed the huge fucking hole in the ceiling.

It stretches from just in front of the door to what he assumes used to be a living room, but half the sofa is hanging down and there’s flames already licking their way up a kitchen bar stool. His eyes scan the room on the other side of the hole, trying to spot the best place to cross and the stranded resident.

“Hello? Fire and rescue, we’re here to get you out!” He doesn’t hear anything for a moment, and then a hand shoots up from behind a table followed slowly by a head of curls.

“Over here,” at least he thinks that’s what she says. It gets cut off by a cough and her head ducking back down.

“I’m coming to you,” he calls, but she either doesn’t hear or can’t ankowldge it, but that’s fine. Luke just needs to know where she is. He backs up a step, looks back at the hole in the floor and backs up another, and then he runs, jumps, lands with a thud that echoes up his legs.

There’s a cracking sound behind him, and Luke turns in time to see part of the floor where he’d just been standing start to give away as flames leap up and smoke clouds the area, while Danforth hops backwards to avoid taking a fall. He can see wide eyes through the screen of his visor and Luke reaches up to tap the button on the talkie, inclining his head towards the door as he speaks.

“Better tell Harrison I’m coming out the window.” He shoots the other man a grin before turning back to his job at hand. Find the stuck girl, go out a window, hopefully make it home before Reggie eats all of Alex’s leftover lasagna. Oh he hopes there’s still some garlic bread left over too. Or maybe he can convince Alex to whip some up for them, that man knows how to make a good garlic bread. Little cheese on top. Some of the fancy salad he steals from work. Maybe Willie will be over and he’ll have bought dessert.

Luke’s planned out his ideal menu for the evening, and breakfast the next day, by the time he makes his way carefully across the crumbling floor and is kneeling down across from a girl whose face is mostly obscured by wild curls and a damp towel. Someone paid attention during a fire talk, he thinks.

“Hey, are you hurt?”

It’s only four years worth of training and feeling the heat of flames slowly getting closer that stop Luke from completely blanking on his job as wide brown eyes meet his through his visor. There’s a streak of soot on one of her cheeks and he catches sight of unshed tears pooling in her eyes. She’s looking up at him with a mix of fear and worry and what he really hopes is gratitude and a large part of his mind knows this isn’t the right time, but holy crap, Luke’s pretty sure she might be the prettiest girl he has ever seen.

“No,” she coughs out, shaking her head and Luke blinks. Pulling his thoughts back to the issue at hand. The fire, the falling floor, the window, the— was she wearing monster slippers? He bites back a smile even as his eyebrows tick up, just a little.

“Let's get you out of here, yeah?” He ducks his head to catch her eyes and make sure she’s heard him. “You ever jumped out a window before?”

The girl's eyes widen a fraction as they dart towards the window she hadn’t been able to open and when they dart back to him there’s a determined glint mixed with the fear.

“Wait here, I’m gonna make sure we’ve got a soft place to land,” he pushes himself back up and over to the window, gives it an experimental tug and frowns. Someone has painted the window shut, which is bad for fire safety, but great for him being able to show off a little and smash a window. Luke unhooks the axe from his belt just as his radio crackles to life.

“Which window are you coming out of Patterson?” Harrison’s voice comes through and Luke can picture the way she’d probably sighed in resignation when Danforth had turned up outside with his news. He was always being told off about coming out through a window when it wasn’t a part of the plan. Turning slightly so he’s standing side on, Luke raises his arm and swings the axe at the glass. Someone shouts from below and he hears the girl let out a gasp over the sound of shattering glass.

“This one,” he says, holding down the button on his radio and reattaching his axe in one movement before leaning out the window to see them pulling the large inflatable cushion to below the window he’s standing at. He wishes the bigger ladder truck hadn’t been redirected across town, it was much more badass to help a pretty girl down a ladder then it was to push them out a window and say ‘jump’. He waits until someone shoots him a thumbs up and turns back into the apartment.

“Alright, let's get out of here shall we?” Luke says, holding out a hand to help her up, there’s a second of hesitation before she drops the towel she’s holding and reaches up to grab it. He notices the bag she’s clutching to her chest and idly wonders what she’s deemed important enough to save from a fire. He’s been doing this job long enough now to know that everyone has different priorities. Some are more questionable than others.

“Wait,” she pulls her hand out of his grasp as they reach the window and she leans out, “You’re serious about jumping out? I thought you had like ladders or something! I can’t— I—”

“Woah hey, hey,” he puts a hand on her back as she tries to back up into the room and Luke is conscious of the fire still raging, eating away at the floor, and he knows there’s no time, but sometimes people just need a little reassurance, “It’s okay. What’s your name?”

She looks up at him and there’s tears streaking through the soot on her skin as she breathes in shallowly, “Julie.”

“Alright Julie. Normally we do have a ladder, and I know it looks scary but this is perfectly safe. I promise. It’s like jumping onto a giant cushion. Kinda fun if you forget about the fire.”

She still looks unsure, head shaking slowly as her grip on the bag tightens and Luke ducks his head, and even though he knows he shouldn’t, he flips up his visor so she can see him better.

“I know we’ve just met and you have no reason to trust me, but I’m going to ask you to trust me anyway. It’ll just be a shortfall and a bounce. Over before you even remember to be scared,” he can feel his lips tugging into what he hopes is a reassuring smile. Julie’s eyes track over his face quickly before she shuts them tightly and nods once.

“Okay. Okay. I’m jumping out a window. Sure. This is fine,” she mutters and Luke grins, flipping his visor back down and slowly helps Julie up onto the window sill before she can change her mind.

“I’m gonna keep hold of this alright?” he gently extracts the bag from her fingers and secures it over his shoulder before helping Julie sit on the sill and jumps up to join her, legs dangling in the open air. “Short fall and a bounce. You got this,” he squeezes her hand that’s gripping the window frame as she flinches at the sound of something falling behind them. “Ready?”

She whispers something that he doesn’t quite catch but nods her head, squeezes his hand back and jumps. There’s a rush of air, Julie sucking in a breath somewhere next to him, and then he’s hitting something, body being absorbed by something cold and bouncing once, twice, and then settling.

Despite the fact he’d just told Julie that there was nothing scary about jumping out of the window, Luke always felt a spike of fear in the first second he’s airborne. There’s a moment, just a single moment, where he worries that this time he won’t hit the ground again. That he’ll float away. It’s illogical and crazy, and Luke knows that. But he still worries. The same way he always worries that this burning building will be the one he doesn’t walk back out of.

For a moment, Luke just lies there. He lost Julie’s hand somewhere in the fall but he can hear her breathing somewhere nearby and slowly the sounds of his crew start coming back to him and he blows out a breath and gets back to work.

//

One of the bonuses to being the person to jump out of a burning building is that Luke doesn’t have to help deflate and put away the cushion. The downside is that he has to spend twenty minutes with one of the paramedics as they check him over.

No matter how many times he tells them he’s fine. You lie about bruising a rib one time and no one lets you forget it.

“Are we done here?” He asks as the paramedic finally doesn’t swat his hand away as he takes his oxygen mask off and Luke tries really hard to not let his leg bounce too obviously.

“Any sign of issues—” they start but Luke is already pushing up from the back of the ambulance, shooting the paramedic a two fingered salute and picking up the bag he’d dropped by the back tire when he’d been told to sit. It’s only a short journey to the gurney on the other side of the vehicle and the girl lying on it with her eyes tight shut and holding a phone to her ear, though he thinks it’s more for comfort then actually talking given she’s still got an oxygen mask over her mouth.

He approaches slowly, trying for a gentle smile as her eyes snap open and lock directly with his. He holds her bag up, and fully intends to just leave it by her side and get back to work — no matter how much he so desperately wants to talk to her again, even though he’s not sure why, but he’ll think about that later — but she pulls the mask away from her face and smiles back at him.

“Flynn just hold on,” she rasps and there’s a slight wince on her face as she realises how saw her throat is, Luke slowly approaches the side of the gurney and gives her what he hopes is a sympathetic smile. He remembers how shitty a smoke hurt throat can be.

“I gotta get back to my crew but I just wanted to check in,” he says, resting an elbow on the metal railing and pretending the way his eyes rack over her face and body is simply to check for injuries — though he’s glad to see the monster slippers survived the fire and the fall —, before he licks his lips once, and holds her bag up for her see, “and to make sure you got this back.”

Julie takes her bag with a relieved sigh that Luke might think more about if their fingers didn’t brush slightly in the transfer and leave him wishing he hadn’t been wearing gloves when he’d held her hand as they jumped out of a burning building.

Which right. Burning building. Almost dying. Being scared. Priorities Luke!

He clears his throat and smiles again, a little softer as his eyes linger on her face. Someone has wiped away the worst of the soot from her cheeks and forehead, but there’s still streaks of it across her skin. And she’s looking at him with the same sort of grateful look that he’s seen countless times before, and he swears there’s something else. But she had nearly died, and he’d helped save her. His job here was done. A connection with someone that would last long after she forgot his face or his name.

“I should uh—” he points over his shoulder with his free hand, taps along the side of the gurney once, twice before breathing out, “I’m glad you’re okay.”

He only manages to take a step back and turn around before Julie is coughing out, “Wait!”

Luke doesn’t hesitate to spin around and back to her, eyes quick to scan her face to see what might be wrong, “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

“No I just—” she coughs again, and Luke reaches across to slide the oxygen mask back on her face, keeping a careful eye on how many breaths she takes before she slides it off again, about to say something when she beats him to it, “Sorry. I just. I wanted to thank you. For y’know. Saving me. And…” she trails off, biting her lip and for a moment Luke thinks she’s about to start coughing again but with the way she starts avoiding his eyes she realises she’s just putting it off.

“And…?” he prompts, ducking his head slightly to catch her eyes.

“And I realised I didn’t get your name. Which sounds silly now I’ve said it out loud,” she mutters the last part, head hitting the flimsy pillow with a soft thud that makes him grin. Because she wanted to know his name! And it’s not the first time a person he’s saved has wanted to know his name, but it’s the first time a super pretty girl has asked and he’s wanted to tell her.

“It’s Luke,” he says with a grin, taps against the gurney one last time, “Maybe I’ll see you around sometime Julie.”

TWO

Luke had taken up running when he was 19, between jobs and starting to worry all his potential had been burnt up in the same garage fire that had destroyed his favourite couch and stolen his voice at 17.

It had been his dad's suggestion. A way to get him out of the house and doing something that wasn’t moping or waiting for his friends to be finished with classes, he’s sure. But, even after he’d signed up to be a firefighter and had a whole new fitness schedule, running was still his favourite thing to do. He and his dad might have had their issues but he’d been right about needing a way to clear his head when he could no longer write.

And while he no longer really needed to run to clear his head about what he wanted to do with his life, he did need to breathe in fresh air and forget about the damage a fire can cause.

Some days he had more images to forget about then others.

Some days he just wanted to run.

And some days, he needed to get out of the house before Alex force fed him some weird experimental fish dish. Apparently they were testing out a new menu at the restaurant which just meant Alex was testing the food out on him and Reggie and occasionally Willie when the skater couldn’t come up with an excuse quick enough.

So maybe he was running in the park and avoiding one of his roommates. It was still a valid reason. He’d seen grapes being mashed up with paprika and had not been interested in trying it. Reggie and Hotdog could take one for the team.

The route he runs takes him past a duck pond and a bunch of teenagers throwing a frisbee and other people walking their dogs and —

“Fire! Dad! It’s on fire!” A voice from his left screams and Luke’s instincts kick in as he changes the direction he’s running without faltering a step.

It’s one of those stand alone bbq things that parks have dotted around and Alex hates. Something about not being able to properly grill the meat. Luke had given up listening the third time he’d started talking about them, much more concerned about how no one ever checked them over or made sure they were safe to use.

He can see the problem straight away, something has fallen between the grates and caught on the coals, and where it should just be glowing embers and small flames there’s smoke billowing and flames jumping out at the teenage boy frozen in place.

“Hey can I borrow these?” Luke asks as he comes to a stop next to him, carefully extracting the tongs from his grasp before he can respond. It’s not exactly standard protocol or even the safest plan but Luke clicks the tongs together once before darting them into the flames and pulling out whatever was causing the fire and dropping it on the square of concrete that the bbq is planted on. He stops on it a few times until there’s no longer any flames jumping up at him and all that’s left is smoke and what looks like a half burnt cloth.

“Carlos! Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

Luke turns around just as an older gentleman rushes over, eyes darting from the fire Luke has put out, to the still cooking burgers, to the teenager who’s grinning.

“I’m fine,” he reassures his dad and Luke takes the opportunity to shake some ash off the tongs before offering them back to him, “Dude that was so cool! You just stomped out a literal fire!”

Shrugging, Luke rubs at the back of his neck as he shoots the dad a quick smile, “Just doing my job, it was no big deal. Honestly.”

“Your job?” The man asks, head tilted curiously as he accepts the tongs.

“Yeah I’m a fi—”

“Luke?” A voice he hadn’t expected to hear again cuts him off as a girl with a mass of loose curls in a pretty pale yellow sundress skids to a halt in front of them, eyes looking quickly between him and the other two with increasing concern as she seems to notice the burnt ground. “What happened?”

“Julie! I— Hi,” Luke starts and suddenly wishes he was wearing something more flattering than shorts and an old band t-shirt he’d cut the sleeves off of on a whim. He at least wishes he’d had time to shower before she starts to think he just always stinks like smoke and sweat.

“This young man just saved your brother from a flaming napkin,” the man says and there’s a teasing note in his voice as he looks at his son before raising an eyebrow, “You two know each other?”

“Yes. I— well sort of?” Julie says and there’s a slight furrow between her brows, “Luke’s the firefighter who got me out of the apartment.”

“You’re the one who got my Julie out of the fire? And you just saved Carlos too?,” he says, taking a step closer to him and Luke only has time to nod before he’s speaking again, “You must let me thank you! Do you like burgers? You should stay, eat with us.”

“Oh that’s— that’s really kind of you sir but you don’t have to do that. I was literally just doing my job. Both times,” Luke’s quick to say with a shake of his head, but there’s a gleam in the man's eyes that makes Luke pretty sure he’s about to be eating a burger. Which is better than the option waiting for him at home.

“I won’t hear anything of it. You saved my children, the least I can do is offer you some food. And you can call me Ray,” the man — Ray — waits until Luke gives a smile that feels only a little forced before turning back to the bbq and Luke catches him muttering something, “We really should have attended that fire safety course Victoria mentioned.”

Coughing to hide a laugh Luke looks back in time to catch the tail end of a look that Julie shoots at her brother and the way he rolls his eyes before he grins and walks over to his dad. And then it’s just him and Julie. Who apparently told her family about him. Luke bites his bottom lip to try and not smile because of course she’d told her family, she’d nearly died and hadn’t. It was a big deal. It was something you told people. It doesn’t make him special.

Julie’s looking up at him, her head tilted slightly like she’s considering something and he desperately wants to know what’s going on inside her head. But then his eyes glance down and he can’t stop the grin that spreads across his face at the sight of the doodle covered sneakers she’s wearing and how different they are to the monster slippers he’d seen her in last time.

“No slippers today?” the words slip out of his mouth before he can stop them, brows rising as he looks pointedly at the sneakers on her feet and back up at her.

“Didn’t want to make anyone jealous,” she laughs, but Luke can see a slight flush in her cheeks as she brushes some hair behind her ear and he’s suddenly struck by the urge to do it for her. He’s saved from making an embarrassing move by her next words, “I see you’re not in a uniform today either.”

And, if Luke didn’t know any better he’d say she was upset about that fact if the way her eyes tracked down his body and back up to his face, and if the deepening colour in her cheeks was anything to go by. But why would she be upset about him not wearing his uniform? That thing was heavy and warm. He did not get the fascination.

“They let us wear other clothes sometimes. The uniform can get a little hot,” he grumbles only for his lips to pull up into a slight smirk as he watches the way she bites her lip and avoids his eyes, “Why, disappointed?”

“What? No! I—,” she sucks in a breath and blows it out and Luke watches as she tosses curls over her shoulders and straighten her spine before looking him straight in the eye, and there’s a fierce sense of determination mingling with something like excitement, “I was just thinking how I never got to thank you properly. For helping me out of the building. And how I’d like to do it in a way that doesn’t involve my dad burning burgers in the park.”

Luke blinks and just stares at her because it sounds a little like she’s just asked him out but he doesn’t want to be one of those guys who just assume they’re being asked on a date because of a little life saving. She could just mean a totally harmless thank you coffee and he’s just overthinking it and oh fuck she’s still talking and he’s just gaping at her.

“And I mean it doesn’t have to be a date if you don’t want it to be! I could just buy you a– a doughnut or something. Wait, that’s police isn’t it? Shit what do you buy firefighters? Do you have a stereotypical food? That’s not the point. I—” she sucks in a breath like she’s about to ramble on some more when Luke’s mind finally catches up and he grins at her, reaching out to catch one of her hands that had started waving through the air mid spiel.

“Julie. I would really fucking love to go to dinner with you.”

Her eyes light up as she looks from where he’s still holding her hand, their fingers somehow becoming interlocked and Luke doesn’t know if he did it or if she did but she doesn’t seem to mind and neither does he. It kinda feels right.

“So dinner. So I can thank you, and we can… get to know each other,” she sounds a little shy as she says it and Luke squeezes her hand.

“It’s a date.”

//

He gets to the restaurant ten minutes early and Luke’s pretty sure it’s the first time he’s been early for something since they had the chance at playing at an under 21s club when he was 16. He hadn’t even been early for his first day at the station.

But for a date with Julie Molina? On time wasn’t even an option.

There was just something about her that made him want to show up early, to wear his fanciest shirt, to comb his hair. She made him feel alive in a way he hadn’t in a long time — which he’s pretty sure says something about a guy who runs into fires for a living and maybe he’ll think more on that later — and so far he’d only really met her twice.

And one of those times probably shouldn't count, given all the fire.

But his point still stood. There was something special about Julie that meant she deserved him dressing up and bearing Alex’s teasing and having to gently push Hotdog away before she left hairs all over his pants.

For half a second, as he stands in the doorway of the restaurant, eyes glancing around before landing solidly on Julie in a booth against the wall, Luke wonders if she thinks he’s special enough to not be on time for too. And then he blinks, and she’s waving a hand at him and he remembers he’s pretty ordinary in the scheme of things and Julie is probably just a very punctual person.

“Hi,” he breathes as he slides into the booth on the opposite side of the table from her, noticing her bag and jacket filling the empty space between them and then the way her fingers are fidgeting with one of the cloth napkins on the table, “Sorry I’m late. You look really nice.”

Because she’s wearing a dark blue dress with little stars stitched into it in silver thread that glints under the lights of the restaurant, and her curls look bouncier, if that was even possible, with some pulled back at her temple with clips. And she looks more than nice, but Luke’s already said nice now so he can’t take it back, can he? Oh no, he’s spiralling.

“Oh. I’m just…early,” she trails off, giving a small shrug and shooting him a smile that he doesn’t hesitate to return and he doesn’t know if it’s him smiling or just the fact he’s shown up or — what, but Julie’s fingers still on the napkin as she seems to settle more in herself, and she blows out a breath before smiling at him, “You look nice too. You’ve got...sleeves today.”

Luke can’t help it, he blushes, a laugh working it’s way past his lips as he rubs at the back of his neck, trying to play it off cool only to promptly give up when he catches sight of the way Julie is trying to bite back a smile at his reaction; because making her smile is quickly becoming one of his favourite things. And hopefully, if tonight goes well, he can spend a long time making her smile, and more.

“You’ve seen me with sleeves more than without,” he points out and this time it’s Julie’s turn to blush a little, ducking her eyes.

“Well your arms certainly make an impression,” she mutters with a roll of her eyes at him. But it’s hampered by the blush still on her cheeks and Luke grins, nudging her ankle with his foot under the table.

“Have you been here before? I looked up the menu but couldn’t decide what looked good,” Luke says, letting the topic of his arms drop for now. Though if all goes well he’ll make sure to bring it up at another time.

“My tia says they do a really nice tagliatelle,” she replies, picking up her own menu and letting her eyes glance at it before back up at him with a smile.

“This is the tia who makes the really good um,” Luke bites his lip as he tries to recall the conversation from yesterday, snapping his fingers when the word comes back to him, “Tostones! That your dad was talking about?”

The smile that graces her face lights up her eyes, like she hadn’t thought he’d been paying attention to what was said yesterday, or that he wouldn’t remember even if he had been.

“Yeah, that one,” Julie looks back at her menu and Luke follows suit, eyes skimming past all the options but not really taking any of them in. His mind is still stuck on the way she’d smiled at him and how pretty her eyes were when she did.

Their waiter comes and Luke takes her tia’s suggestion and goes with the pasta dish, pretending not to notice the way Julie smiles at him when he does.

“So,” she starts when the guy has gone and they’re alone in their booth again, her hands folded over each other on the table as she looks at him, “Firefighting huh? That must be...I don’t want to say fun but...interesting?” She wrinkles her nose a little, like it’s still not the word she wants to use, and he gets it.

“Interesting is a pretty good word for it. And it can be fun,” he nods, biting his bottom lip as he thinks about it, “When we get to rescue cats or someone's trapped on their roof or something. But it’s intense too. Some days are harder than others to go home from.”

“Is it something you always wanted to do?” There’s honest curiosity in her voice and Luke almost feels bad for laughing after the way it makes her blink in shock.

“No,” he shakes his head, still laughing a little, “I uh I was gonna be a rockstar. Not like kids say they’re going to be,” he’s quick to add as her smile returns, “Me and my best friends, Alex and Reggie, we had a band and we were fucking good. Played our own instruments, wrote our own songs. I think we could have been legends,” his voice trails off as he thinks about it. About that abandoned dream and the scars from it he still holds.

Julie tilts her head at him and he blinks to pull himself back to the present as she speaks, “Can I ask what happened? If it’s too painful or anything you don’t need to tell me I’m just...curious. Don’t hear many people who sound so passionate about lost dreams.”

“Ironically, there was a fire at our rehearsal space and uh, no one was seriously hurt or anything. Everyone got out. But um, I was in hospital for a few days for minor burns and smoke inhalation,” Luke frowns and tries to keep to the facts, no need to wander down that memory lane right now, “I couldn’t play for a few weeks afterwards, and then the first time I tried to sing was about a month later and it...hurt. So I haven’t tried since.”

“How long ago was that?”

“I was 17 so uh seven, nearly eight years ago now,” he hadn’t realised it had been so long. Huh.

Julie blinks at him, her mouth opens only to close again a few times before she seems to find the words she’s looking for, “That’s...wow Luke, that’s a long time. But I— I kind of understand. The being hurt and...scared to sing again.”

Ignoring the way she seems to have caught on to his unspoken truth in being scared about singing, Luke focuses on her own apparent issues. And the fact that she’s apparently a singer. He might have pushed down all his own music related dreams but he’s always had a type.

“Can I ask what happened?”

“My mom died when I was 17,” she gives him a sad smile and Luke’s eyes immediately widen, lips tugging down as he starts to get an idea of the story that’s about to follow.

“I am so sorry Julie. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” and it’s instinct to reach across the table and touch the back of her hand that’s strayed back to the napkin, and it seems to be instinct for her to turn her hand over and link their fingers.

“No, no it’s fine,” she sucks in a deep breath, and lets it out again, keeping her eyes on their interlock fingers, “It was um cancer. And we knew it was coming, so we got the chance to say goodbye. But my mom she was— God she was the best person I knew. She was amazing and my best friend and just this amazingly talented musician who used to be in some badass bands. She taught me to play piano, and a little guitar and we used to sit out in the garage that her and my dad turned into a studio and just — write and play and sing together for hours.”

There’s a pause where she looks lost in a memory of a different life, and Luke lets her have it. Lets her play with his fingers and figure out how much of her past she’s willing to divulge on a first date. Alex is always reminding him that not everyone subscribes to his brand of honesty from the get go. And then she sighs, licking her lips before looking up at him with a small smile that he thinks means thanks.

“After she died I uh I couldn’t play or sing for a long time. Music was just— it was our thing and I didn’t know how to do it without her. So I avoided it at all costs and didn’t sing for nearly three years,” she blows out a breath, shaking her a little at him, “And then I was in the car one day, I don’t know where I was going, but the radio was on and one of my mom's songs came on. I didn’t even think about it, I just… started singing along,” she shrugs one shoulder at him before blowing out a breath and laughing.

“God, sorry. I really brought the mood down huh.”

“Best to get the traumatic backstories out of the way now,” he grins, squeezing her fingers quickly, “But hey, you can’t just mention your mum being in a band and having songs on the radio that casually! Gotta tell me more now. If you want to.”

So she does. She tells him all about Rose and the Petal Pushers and how her tia was the original bassist before life got in the way, how they’d played the club scene in the 90’s and landed a gig at the Orpheum, about the few songs they’d had that landed on the charts and the ones that some classic rock stations would still play. She tells him about the vinyl she’d had of their first album that she hadn’t been able to save from the fire and how her dad had been the one to shoot the cover art. She tells him about teaching music part time to kids while she works on making connections and plans for an album and how much she hates looking at apartments.

In turn Luke tells her all about his parents, and Alex and Reggie and how he saved Hotdog the cat from under a hotdog vendor's cart and had been hiding her in their apartment ever since. They spend too long talking about how she knows of Reggie’s music classes and how she’s been to the restaurant where Alex works too many times to count, and how it’s so weird they’ve never met before an apartment fire. He tells her how Alex and Reggie are his family, how they’d been with him through the loss of music and finding firefighting and how he’d already beat Reg at rock, paper scissors five times to be Alex’s best man when either he or Willie popped the question. He tells her how he can’t play his guitar unless he’s drunk and the place that used to be full of lyrics is silent.

At the end of the night, when their waiter finally gets tired of them hogging a table and asks them to leave, Luke knows enough about Julie to know that if they hadn’t met the way they did then they would have met some other way.

So he kisses her slowly, gently, against the side of her car and knows that she feels whatever it is between them too when she asks if he has plans tomorrow.

He doesn’t. And even if he did, he would cancel them for her.

THREE

“Ugh I love my dad but I have got to find somewhere to live before him and Tia drive me mad,” Julie grumbles through the phone and Luke smiles as he pictures her gripping her steering wheel a little tighter as she struggles with her love for her family and her need for space.

“Still no luck with the apartment hunting, huh?” He asks, hoping the sympathy is evident in his voice even as it’s partly muffled by the way he’s trying to pull a t-shirt over his head at the same time.

“Everything’s either too expensive or too far away from work or just has bad vibes,” she sighs and Luke can faintly hear the ticking sound of an indicator in the background.

“How can a place have bad vibes?” he laughs as he pulls the hem of his shirt down with one hand, closing his locker with his elbow of his other, nodding at Harrison as she raises an eyebrow at him as she walks past and Luke already knows he’s going to be teased today. Much like everyday since he and Julie had officially started dating.

But look, it wasn’t his fault he’d somehow met literally the best person on earth and she’d decided he was worth spending half her time with. Even Alex, Reggie and Willie had agreed that Julie was pretty fucking awesome and way out of his leage and had made him promise not to fuck it up. Which personally, Luke had found a little rude because he had no intentions of fucking things up and full intentions of spending the rest of his life with her.

Which yeah, okay, he knows is a little much after only a few months.

It was why he hadn’t asked her to move in with him. A voice that sounded suspiciously like Alex was in the back of his head reminding him that they’d only been dating for two months, or sixty seven days if you wanted to be exact. Not that he’d been counting or anything. Because that would be weird. It was just— Luke didn’t do casual when it came to relationships. He was either all in or not at all. And he was all in for Julie, and he was like, 75% sure she was all in for him too. But even still, it was too early to ask her to move in. Right? Fuck, he was going to have to go back to his pros and cons list later.

“Trust me, if you’d been in this place you’d know what I mean by bad vibes. Carlos would say it gave him ‘bad ghost tingles’, which I really didn’t understand before today,” she laughs a little before muttering something he doesn’t quite catch and then something he’s pretty sure translates to shoving something somewhere unpleasant and Luke grins to himself. Julie with a little road rage is kind of hot.

“Anyway,” she returns to the conversation and he really wishes he was in the car with her and not across town leaning in a doorway, it’s almost enough to make him start pouting before her next words are crackling through the phone, “Are we still on for dinner tonight after your shift?”

“Yeah!” Luke clears his throat, hand rubbing at the back of his neck at just how quickly and loudly he had agreed to that, but he can hear Julie laughing gently through the phone so he’s not really all that embarrassed, “I mean, yeah as long as you’re still up for it?”

“You said Alex was going through a fusion phase and I really want to see how he’s going to combine Italian and Thai food.”

“Oh I see, so you’re only using me to get close to my chef roommate, huh?” Not that he could blame her. Alex made some pretty great food.

“Don’t be silly, I’m clearly playing the long game and intend to use you to get to play with the sirens on a fire engines,” she giggles and it’s nearly enough to make Luke quit his job to spend the rest of his life trying to make her repeat the sound over and over.

Which is of course when the alarm sounds and people start rushing around him. He hears Julie blow out a breath on her end of the line and for a moment Luke can picture her so clearly. Sitting in her car, hands gripping the wheel and fingers tapping along to whatever melody is stuck in her head, hair tied up because she was going to wash it tomorrow, a little crease between her brows as she concentrated on the road that would deepen every time someone pissed her off. God he— huh. Luke blinks and blows out a breath of his own. If it’s too early to ask her to move in, he knows it’s probably too early to say the thought that just stuck him.

“I gotta,” he rasps, swallows and tries again, “I gotta go. Duty calls. I’ll see you tonight?”

“Eight o’clock. I’ll meet you at yours,” he imagines she’s nodding her head at him, “Be careful out there okay?”

“Always am,” Luke wants to say something else, but Danfroth hurries past him and he’ll be damned if he's not ready first, “Bye Jules.”

He holds on for a few more seconds, to see if she’s going to say anything more but it’s just static and their breathing and a click as they hang up.

//

His first year at the station there had been a massive ten car pile up on I-5 where the Hollywood freeway decided to join the party. It had been a lot of broken glass and people calling for help and a car hanging over the edge as others started burning. Luke doesn’t remember many of the details of the night. Except that he kind of remembers all of it.

Because his brain hates him and insists on keeping hold of all the traumatic moments in his life no matter how hard he tries to forget them.

He remembers being frozen at first. Gripping the strap of the bag he’d been told to hold as people bumped into him as they’d got straight to work. He’d been 21 and a probie and suddenly thinking he’d made the wrong career choice. He’d been seconds away from bolting when he’d heard a small voice calling for help. And Luke had blinked. Sucked in a breath of cold air and got to work.

It had been a series of reassuring smiles and telling people to cover their eyes and trying to ignore the way some people were covered in more blood than what was left in their bodies. He hadn’t had to deal with the worst of it, not really, but that didn’t mean he didn’t still sometimes wake up having dreamt of blood on roads and pulling people from cars before they blew up.

Now, as he closes the door of the engine and snaps the strap on his helmet closed, Luke thinks he’ll be dreaming of this call for a long time to come. On the plus side, at least this one was taking place in daylight.

“The hell happened?” he mutters.

“Truck lost a wheel and took out three cars in front of them and then another four behind. I think the rest are just collateral damage,” Danforth shrugs as he passes by Luke to open one of the side hatches on the engine.

Something about the way he says it rubs Luke the wrong way but he doesn’t have time to figure it out because Harrison comes up to give them assignments and he’s grabbing the jaws of life and heading into the chaos and the mess.

There’s a moment of calm between him helping get a young man out of a car and arguing with someone from a different station about not scaring already scared people by saying they’re going to cut trapped limbs off, where Luke manages to take a moment to breathe. There’s sweat coating the back of his neck and he knows if he looks close enough he’ll spot blood on his gloves but that's a problem for future him. Right now all he wants is a cold breeze to blow across the freeway and to not see an other person stuck in their car.

“Can we get some help over here please!” Someone shouts and Luke rolls his neck, pushes away from the wrecked car he’d been leaning against and heads towards the voice.

The first thing he sees is a car on its side with something leaking from somewhere it shouldn’t and knows they don’t have long before it makes a bigger problem. The second thing he sees is someone with strangely familiar curls kneeling over a body surrounded by an awful lot of glass.

“We’re gonna need a medic over here!” He calls over his shoulder before closing the distance with a jog and dropping into a crouch next to the young woman with her hands pressed into the side of an older man. Luke’s eyes track from his body to the car and the trail of blood and back to the woman's hands, coated in blood and arms that are shaking.

“Okay, we got him. Did you pull him ou— Julie!?” Luke’s hands falter for a moment as he reaches to replace the woman's hands with a wad of gauze as he finally has a chance to glance up at her face and realises the familiar curls were familiar for a reason. There’s blood on her sweatshirt and a streak across her cheek that’s disturbed by tear tracks and Luke remembers the first time he’d met her, crouching behind her sofa with tears on her cheeks, holding a bag full of song books and photos to her chest, and looking terrified.

She looks scared right now, but not like she had then, a different kind of scared that comes from not knowing if you’re doing enough to save someone.

“I— I pulled him out because the car is leaking gas and I didn’t—” she pauses to suck in a breath, hands balling into fits as she tries to steady them and Luke takes the pause to run his eyes over her and check for any injuries. But she seems fine, which is the important part right now. Well that and doing his job.

“Hey, we got him,” he ducks his head to catch her eyes and waits until she lets out a shallow breath and nods, “You need to go get checked out by a paramedic.”

“I’m fine, it's— it’s not my blood. I wasn’t in the crash, I just got out to help,” she trails off as her eyes follow the path of a pair of paramedics hands that come into view, taking over his job of putting pressure on the wound and Luke rocks back on his heels to let someone else take his place.

“Come on Jules,” he puts one hand on her elbow and slowly pulls her up as he stands too, moving them both out of the way so the paramedics can do their jobs. He waits until they’re lying down a backboard and Julie can see that he’s breathing. That he’s alive they’ve done all that they can and Luke practically feels the breath she lets out, shoulders dropping and her hands finally uncurling as she lets him pull her further away from the scene.

“You’re okay?” Julie asks as they come to a stop near his station's engine, hands reaching out for him only to seem to notice the blood and stop half in the air, and Luke can’t stop the half scoffed laugh that comes out of his throat as he unclips his helmet to pull it off his head to see her better.

“I should be asking you that,” he mutters, raising a hand up only to remember he’s still wearing his gloves and starts to pull one off before trying again, letting his palm cup her cheek, thumb brushing gently over her cheek and taking some of the blood with him. “What were you doing out there? You could have been hurt.”

“That guy was hurt and he needed help,” Julie shrugs a little as she looks up at him with a small twitch of her lips, leaning her cheek in his hand as her lips brushing slightly against the skin of his wrist as she speaks, “You’re out here every day risking your life, Luke. All I did was drag a guy from a car and try to stop him bleeding out.”

“Probably saved his life is what you did,” he blows out a breath and tries to send all his worries and concerns with it. He wonders if this is how his family and friends feel everyday he goes off to work, because it kinda sucks, maybe he should apologise to his mom later. Luke opens his mouth to say something before being cut off.

“Patterson! We got another call, come on,” Harrison interrupts, shooting a quick smile at Julie before looking at him and nodding towards the engine.

“Are you okay to drive? I can get someone to drop you off at mine?” He’s pretty sure someone around here owes him a favour, or he can see if Willie’s free or—

“I’m fine to drive but you’re not going to be finished for four hours. I don’t want to be intruding or anything,” there’s a small frown between her brows that makes Luke grin and want to kiss it away. So he does. He presses his lips to her forehead, and rests like that for a second, two, three.

“They won't get this all cleared for a while but they’ll let you turn around and my place is back the way you came,” he points out as he pulls back a little to be able to see her eyes better, “So, you go back to mine, feel free to use one of Reg’s bath bombs if you want, raid the cupboard next to the fridge for some of Willie’s cookies. Relax. Plus you know where the spare key is, and Reg should be back at about five so if you can’t find anything he’ll be there to help.”

“You sure it’s okay?”

“Go. I’ll be back by eight. Promise. I love you.

They stand like that for a few more seconds, his hand on her cheek and staring into each other's eyes in a way that he’s sure is going to get him teased later on. And then Harrison calls his name again and he rolls his eyes to make Julie laugh and press a quick kiss to his lips. Before he leaves her, he catches someone from the 97 and asks them to make sure she gets out fine. And Julie rolls her eyes at him, but he simply shrugs as he starts to walk backwards with a grin.

It’s not until he’s sat in his seat, headset on and clutching his helmet that he realises he’s just said he loves her. Oh fuck.

//

As the door clicks shut behind him the first thing Luke notices is Hotdog waiting by the pile of shoes for him like she does every Tuesday when he gets home. 

The second is the smell of onions and garlic, which means Alex is home and cooking dinner and he hadn’t realised how hungry he was.

The third thing is the sound of Julie’s laughter mixing with Reggie’s and Willies and Alex’s voice trying to sound offended. And Luke smiles to himself as he kicks off his shoes, drops his bag and bends down to pick up Hotdog, fingers scratching under her chin as he thinks about how all of this is something he could get very used to.

Plus, if Julie’s here it means he hadn’t scared her off with his spontaneous declaration earlier. Which is good.

“...found her behind the bookcase in Reggie’s room like, 3 hours later!” Alex finishes saying as Luke strolls into the kitchen with said hide and seek champion in his arms.

“Are we talking about the first or the second time Reg couldn’t find her?” He asks leaning his elbow on the back of the chair Julie is sitting in and drops a quick kiss to her lips as she turns her head to smile up at him. She’s retied her hair up and all traces of smoke and sweat and blood are gone from her skin, leaving her smelling like peaches, so Luke’s going to guess she took him up on the bath bomb offer.

“Hey,” he whispers as he pulls away to run his eyes over her face, pretty sure she’s doing the exact same thing to him.

“I’m still fine. Better even. You have a really great bath,” she says, quite enough that only he hears, and he definitely doesn’t miss the suggestive tone that makes him bite his lip before he says something not appropriate for present company. Instead he settles for poking her lightly between the shoulder blades and letting his fingers trail up from her shoulders to her neck to idly play with a loose curl at the nape of her neck. Biting down on the smirk that’s threatening to take over his face, Luke turns his attention back to his boys and the times Reggie has lost their cat.

“Wait, you lost her more than once?” Willie stares pointedly at Reggie who pauses in his cutting up of vegetables to smile a little sheepishly at them all.

“Hey, Alex is the one who freaked out thinking she was blind when she just didn’t give a fuck about the laser pointer!”

“That’s not even—” Alex starts, turning around and pointing his spoon at Reggie only to sigh and shake his head before turning to look at Luke with a raised brow and a look in his eyes that he doesn’t understand in relation to his next words, “Okay, moving on. Put out many fires today?”

Luke rolls his eyes at him because ever since he’d started his firefighter training six years ago Alex had been asking him the same question every night he came home. It was tradition at this point. So he adjusts his position so Hotdog can jump from his arms to the ground and make her way over to Willie before he answers so he has full range of movement for his dramatic retelling of his day. He only gets as far as lifting one arm to point at his friends before he’s cringing and lowering it again, instead holding up his index finger and nodding towards the bathroom.

“Actually, let me shower first. There was a whole incident with vinegar at a store earlier,” he waves away confused looks and drops one eye in a wink as he starts to back out of the room, “All will be answered soon.”

He tries to shower quickly, but gets caught up in scrubbing his hands through his hair and letting the hot water pound on the tight muscles on his back for longer than he’d like to admit. Someone he’d carried down five flights of stairs had once told him that he carried too much tension in his shoulders, like he was carrying a bunch of burdens and shit that he needed to let go. At the time he’d just said it was because his equipment was heavy. Now he’s starting to think that they might have been on to something.

Only problem is that he doesn’t really know what his burdens are or how to let them go so he just keeps ignoring them in hope they’ll sort themselves out.

Turning the water off and wrapping a towel around his waist Luke wipes condensation off the mirror as he grabs another towel to rub over his hair quickly, pushing still damp strands out of his eyes. He can still hear the boys talking faintly in the kitchen and doesn’t have a chance to wonder where Julie might be when he picks up a voice singing from his room. It’s something from a musical he thinks, something that she’s been working on with the kids she teaches for the last few weeks and Luke feels bad for them because how could they possibly compare to her voice?

Luke leans his shoulder against the doorframe, arms crossed on his bare chest as he watches Julie move around the other side of his room, picking through the books and cd’s he has stacked haphazardly on a bookshelf. She has her head tilted a little to the side as she reads the spine of something, shoulders moving up and down as she skips through a verse to hit the chorus again, hips swaying in a pair of his dark jogging bottoms that she’s had to turn up several times at the bottom. He hadn’t realised before that she was wearing his clothes, that she must have relaxed in the bath and then rooted through his drawers to find his softest pants and comfiest looking t-shirt. It must be a newish one, he thinks, because it’s still got sleeves attached and he can’t recognise it from the back. God he kind of loves to see her in his clothes.

The frame of the door starts to dig a little uncomfortably into his shoulder and he hisses a little as he pushes away, grabbing Julie’s attention who looks over her shoulder at him her mouth turning up into an almost coy smile as her eyes track down his body. His eyes brows raise a little as he grins back at her, pushing further away from the door to walk towards her only too falter as she fully turns around and —

Luke sucks in a sharp breath as he finally gets to see the t-shirt she’s wearing. He had forgotten he still had it. Cheap white material that was soft until you washed it once and it turned like paper, but when they’d been sixteen with their only money coming from allowances and busking, it was the best they could afford. He can still remember Reggie spending painstaking hours designing their logo, testing out different versions of the curve and font styles before settling on that one. And then the three of them spent even more hours carefully transferring the logo onto cheap t-shirts.

He hadn’t really thought about those t-shirts for a long time. He didn’t know if the others even still had any left. He didn’t know why he even still had one. The thing hadn’t fit him in years, like the second he’d given up on singing and music the t-shirt had grown too small for him. Or he’d just grown too big for it.

“Are you okay?” Julie asks, and he doesn’t know when she has moved, but suddenly she’s in front of him and Luke is getting a clear, up close view of his old band's shirt on her. 17 year old Luke would be losing his mind at the sight. Actually, 24 year old Luke is kind of losing his mind at the sight.

“Yeah just—” his voice cracks a little and he swallows, trying not to notice the way she’s biting her lip to stop a smile, “Not seen that t-shirt in a long time.”

“Oh?” she hums looking down at her chest, pulling slightly at the hem so she can see the logo a bit better before looking back up at him from beneath her lashes, “Reggie did say you might be a little surprised by it. I can take it off if you want?”

Fuck. He kind of wants to kill his friends for not warning him. Kind of wants to not be thinking about anyone but Julie for the next half an hour at least.

“It looks much better on you then it did on any of us,” he mutters, one hand coming up to lightly trace the lettering across the fabric.

“So you want me to keep it on?”

“Did they say how long dinner would be?” He asks as his fingers move from tracing the letters to up following the curve of her collarbone gently, lips ticking up on one side as she shivers.

“Twenty minutes,” she breathes, arching her neck to give his fingers more skin to explore and letting her breath fan across his lips as her fingers drop to the edge of his towel, using a fingernail to trace his hip bone. He’d want to talk about what he said earlier, to see if she felt the same but there’d be time for talking later.

“Keep the shirt on.”

FOUR

Luke really fucking hates working nights.

It’s a fact Alex is always laughing at him for, because of them all he’s always had the worst sleeping habits, had always been known to be up in the middle of the night doing something else. But that was by choice. This is because he needs money to pay rent and buy food and take Julie on nice dates.

Which is his newest reason for hating working nights.

He misses spending time with Julie. Being on opposite schedules really fucking sucks.

At this point he’d even take just getting to hug her, to watch something crappy on tv and fall asleep together in the same bed.

Logically, Luke knows that Harrison hadn’t been aware of what stage his relationship with Julie was at, but a part of him truly believes she had scheduled his turn of nights just as they’d gotten past that awkward stage of not knowing if they could stay over at each others place and where hitting the stage of leaving a toothbrush and saying ‘I love you’ when they said goodbye. And hello. And just anytime one of them felt like it.

Harrison couldn’t have known, but he’s going to blame her for not getting to see his girlfriend in daylight for the last week anyway. And when he starts to feel bad for blaming Harrison he’ll find a way to blame Danforth instead.

“You’re extra grumpy today,” Alex comments as he stirs something in a pot on the stove, watching the way Luke dumps cream into this coffee and grunting at the way his favourite bowl is still dirty in the sink from yesterday.

“I hate the night shift,” he mutters, giving up on his hunt for cereal and pulling a box of leftover pasta from the fridge instead.

“If you wait five minutes you can have some of this.” Luke doesn’t even have a chance to say anything before Alex is pulling the container away from him and is left with no other choice but to wait.

“Something is smelling good!” Reggie breezes into the kitchen with the air of someone who has been up for hours and is preparing to wind down for the evening. Luke kind of wants to throw something at him for it, and might have tried if he didn’t spot a ball of fur purring away on his shoulder, “What’s going on with Mr McPouty?”

“He’s not seen Julie in a week. I think he’s having withdrawals,” Alex whispers loudly as he spoon what Luke thinks is risotto into a bowl and slides it across to him.

“Can’t say I blame him, we went for coffee yesterday between classes? Man Julie’s so cool! And did you know her dad's this, like, semi famous photographer?” Reggie gushes and it takes everything in Luke not to pout even more at the fact Reggie got to hang out with Julie and he didn’t, “She says hi by the way.”

“Fuck off,” he mutters, flipping Reggie off as he starts laughing and pulling a fork out of the drawer closest to him, it does nothing to dissuade his boys from their laughter and Luke can’t find it in himself to care.

He’s tried and he misses Julie. He’s allowed to be grumpy about it.

“Anyway, you can’t talk to me about being grumpy. Remember when Willie went to that competition thing in San Diego and you didn’t see him for two days?” Luke points his fork at Alex and is rewarded with him having the decency to flush a little at the memory.

“Oh yeah! You lonely baked like, fifty cupcakes!” Reggie grins, snapping his fingers and leans in to whisper to Hotdog, “Two of your parents are lovesick fools. But it’s okay, because Julie and Willie are super cool. I’m sorry I didn’t properly prepare you though, I thought we’d have more time.”

“If I wasn’t so tired I’d take offence at you insinuating we’d never get partners,” Luke grumbles, shoving a fork full of risotto into his mouth and shooting Reggie a half hearted sort of glare.

“Well I’m not tired so I take full offence to it! And stop lying to Hotdog about us!” Alex steps away from the stove, picking up some cooked chicken to toss towards Hotdog, grinning at the way Reggie sputters in protest as she tries to climb his face to catch them.

He knows Alex and Reggie are still bickering around him but he lets it all fade into the background as he eats and thinks about what Reggie had said. Because he wasn’t strictly wrong. Luke's last serious relationship had been at least four years ago and had lasted a month before things had just...fizzled out. And yeah there’d been the occasional girl since, but nothing serious. Nothing like what he felt for Julie.

She made him want to pick up a pen and write again. She made him want to look at old dreams he’d pushed aside out of fear. Which was a kind of terrifying thought in itself. Because Luke hadn’t thought about that dream of standing on a stage and playing music he wrote and making a connection to everyone in a long time. Not since he’d left the hospital after a house fire and the first time he’d tried to sing a month later his throat had felt like it was bleeding. So he’d pushed that dream down and found a new one and had avoided looking at it ever since.

Until Julie.

With her stunning voice and captivating laugh and blinding smile. Until she’d dragged him to a silly open mic night and handed him a guitar and just asked him to back her up.

Luke hadn’t told the boys about it.

That he’d stood on a stage and played while a crowd cheered. He didn’t know what it meant. Wasn’t even sure if it could be classed as progress if he hadn’t actually sang anything. But playing something for someone that wasn’t him was something, right?

He chews thoughtfully at a piece of chicken and looks between Alex and Reggie who have moved on from bickering to discussing weekend plans. Maybe he should tell them, they’d probably have some helpful insight into his problems.

Or they might just call him dumb and point out it’s been seven years and his throat is fine and he’s not had any problems talking since two weeks after leaving the hospital and he’s just been a coward. Damn he needed to get Alex and his stupid logical voice out of his head.

“Dude,” Reggie cuts through his thoughts, frowning at his phone screen, “You’re gonna be late if you don’t get ready soon.”

Luke squints at the screen as Reggie turns it towards him and nearly chokes on the bite food in his mouth as he pushes out of his chair and picking up his bowl as he goes, “Fuck!”

//

Luke slams the door of the fire alarm panel shut as the beeping and sprinklers in the restaurant finally stop and he’s left with a slight ringing in his ear and water soaking into his back. Which is bad. Because it means he’s torn his coat at some point and is going to need to sort that out before their next call. He’s glad he found out on a false alarm rather than while being in a burning building though, better a slightly damp back to being burnt.

“Alarms off, I’m going to do a sweep through,” he holds down the button on his radio and waits for the crackling to die down and Harrisons voice to filter through a confirmation.

False alarms are his least favourite calls, which he knows is bad, but he likes a little action in his night. If he’s going to be stuck on the night shift he at least wants to be doing something more than opening storage closets to check there’s no one trying to wait out a fire.

He hums the theme tune of some 90’s sitcom he can’t remember the name of as he walks down the short corridor between the kitchen and the main dining area, glancing in the men's room and the ladies and pauses a moment too long as he looks in the disabled toilet.

The last time he’d been out for a meal it had been an awful group event that Alex had made them all go to for one of the waiters at his restaurant. The food had all been weirdly sticky and they kept playing a questionable remix of Bless the Broken Road and the biggest bright spot of the whole evening had been when everyone was wandering around talking, Julie had dragged him down a corridor and into a bathroom.

Letting the door shut, Luke lets out a slight groan as he moves away from the corridor and back towards the main entrance. As if he wasn’t missing Julie enough already. He just had to go and remember that evening.

“Place is clear. It looks like a wire got loose but they’ll need to get someone in to check all the detectors. It didn’t seem like the sprinklers were really doing their job in the kitchen,” Luke reports to Harrison once he’s outside and within earshot of her, taking his helmet off and running a hand through his hair as he comes to a stop beside her, glancing towards the crowd of people waiting behind cones and a man arguing with someone in a police uniform. Luke shakes his head at the sight of the man gesturing towards the building and back at himself as he unfastens his coat and shrugs it off his shoulders, “He doesn’t think he’s actually going to be able to reopen tonight does he?”

“Hm? Not our problem,” Harrison says without even looking up from whatever form she’s filling out, though she does lift her pen up and wave it to something over his shoulder, “There’s someone over there looking for you. You’ve got 15 before we’ll be ready to leave.”

With a frown Luke looks over his shoulder, but can’t see anyone that he knows and it’s as he turns back to tell Harrison that when she taps him on the ear with her pen and Luke gets the hint. He leaves his helmet and coat with her and is halfway to the taped line when he spots a face in the crowd that makes a smile split across his face.

“What are you doing here?” He asks, not even attempting to keep the widening smile off his face as he jogs to a stop beside the tape line where Julie is standing with an arm linked through Flynns.

“Well we were trying to have a nice dinner,” Flynn mutters, and Luke catches the way she wrinkles her nose as he pulls away after leaning over to kiss Julie quickly, but there’s a slight smile on her lips too. Which is always nice to see because winning over Flynn had felt like the biggest test of his life and some days he still wasn’t entirely sure if she liked him or not.

“Just karma for trying to eat anywhere that’s not Alex’s place,” he rocks back on his heels and crosses his arms over his chest, letting the thumb on his right hand hook under the suspenders and dragging it a little across his chest.

“I don’t want him to think that I’m interested in being his friend because he can get me a table at the last minute,” Julie says, a small furrow appearing between her brows and Luke can’t help but shake his head with a laugh.

“Trust me, Alex’s first rule of friendship is don’t eat at crappy places that don’t get their fire alarms checked regularly.”

“That sounds more like your rule,” Flynn points out and she’s raising an eyebrow as she looks at him in a way that sends him back to being fifteen and put on the spot in a maths class.

Before Luke can formulate a reply Julie is shaking her head at her friend with a laugh and Luke’s eyes are drawn back to her, “No. Luke’s first rule of friendship is that you need to be able to name at least one band or artist from the 80’s. Quickly followed by knowing where all your fire exits are.”

“Just like to make sure people know the classic,” he shrugs, lips curving into a smile as realises just how well Julie knows him, and how much she remembers from their first date too.

“Ugh. You two are annoyingly cute,” Flynn mutters which is only when Luke notices that Julie’s been smiling back at him. But he can’t find it in himself to care how annoyingly cute they might look, he’s not seen her in a week and has to go back to work in less than five minutes. He’s gonna stare at her like the lovesick fool his friends accuse him of being.

//

A yawn creeps up his throat as he balls up his t-shirt and throws it into his bag, rolling out his neck as he reaches for the navy hoodie from inside his locker, foregoing another t-shirt in order to speed up the process of getting home and going straight to bed. He has plans to sleep for the next forty-two hours and only answer his phone for Julie, or his mom if she rings more then twice.

Heaving a breath he slips his hands through the arms of his hoodie and has it half lifted up to his head when a shiver runs up his back as someone traces a spiral pattern up his bare back.

“Hi,” a voice whispers behind him and Luke feels a sudden spike of energy at the sound of her voice. Enough to slip his arms the rest of the way into his hoodie and pull it over his head, he can feel Julie tugging at the hem at his neck, pulling it down to the waistband on his jeans and he tries not to be sad at the lack of her touch.

“Hey,” he finally replies as he turns around, eyes sweeping across her face and the casual leggings and too big band shirt that he’s pretty sure is his that she’s wearing, “You’re up early.”

“Mhm,” she smiles up at him, and it’s sweet and simple and lights up Lukes life in more ways than he’ll ever be able to express to her in words. “Thought I’d come pick you up. See if you maybe wanted to grab a little breakfast before you vanish into your bed.”

If it was anyone else asking him, Luke is pretty sure he’d give them a flat out no and grumble about people being too cheery in the morning. But it’s been five months and he loves her and he’s not been able to say no yet. He’s not sure he’ll ever be able to say no to her. Luke blinks as that thought settles within him.

Spending his life being unable to say no to Julie. He really likes the sound of that.

Completely unaware of the sudden life epiphany he’s experienced, Julie has zipped up his bag and is holding it, eyebrow raised as she looks at him. Waits for him. And Luke pushes all thoughts so the future aside for now, he’ll deal with them later and focuses on the now. On how easily Julie slips her hand into his when he offers it to her, how simple it feels to tug her a little closer and drop a kiss to her forehead before they leave the locker room.

“So you're gonna buy me pancakes, right?” He asks as he waves at one of the engine drivers already busy readjusting his seat for the day.

“I’ll even treat you to an extra topping,” she teases and Luke wrinkles his nose at her even as a smile pulls at his lips.

FIVE

“Hey so uh, I have to ask you something,” Luke started, eyes following the hands of the paramedic as they checked her over for any injuries. But, much like all the previous times, Julie seemed perfectly fine. Which was part of his problem. Or not problem. But his concerns. Because this was the fifth fire his station had been called out to that Julie had been at the scene for. And yeah okay maybe asking her while she was sitting on the sidewalk after running out a burning building wasn’t his best move but he’d been holding off on asking for a while and it just sorta slipped out.

“Are you—”

“You’re all good here, just keep with that oxygen for a little longer for me and then we’ll clear you to go,” the paramedic says, giving her arm a single pat before nodding to him and walking away.

“Julie, are you an arsonist!?” He blurts the question out before he can stop himself, and he watches with mounting embarrassment as Julie removes the oxygen mask from her face — slight indents in her cheeks that he’d want to smooth away if he hadn’t just accused her of a crime — and eyebrows halfway to her hairline.

“Excuse me?” she rasps and Luke winces from the hurt look in her eyes.

“I just—” he starts, waving his arms around them to try and encompass where they are. The store that’s still on fire, the firefighters still trying to get it under control, the people being treated for minor burns and smoke inhalation. “This is like the fifth time you’ve been at a fire! And I love you, you know I love you but I just gotta know if I should be covering for you or something here!”

For a moment Julie doesn’t say anything, just stares at him with her wide brown eyes and lips slightly parted and a little smudge of dirt across her chin. And then she laughs, throwing her head back against his shoulder and eyes shut tight as her body shakes with the force of it. Which does nothing to calm Luke’s fraying nerves about dating an arsonist, but does a lot to make him want to smile at the sight of her joy. Even if it’s maybe tinged with a little insanity.

“You’d really cover for me if I was an arsonist?” She asks after she calms her laughter and regains her breath.

“I mean...yeah,” he shrugs, rubbing one hand at the back of his neck as he smiles at her, a little sheepishly as he tries his best not to dislodge her head from where it’s resting.

“Luke, you’re very sweet and I love you too,” she reaches out a hand and wiggles her fingers at him and Luke barely even hesitates before he’s putting his hand in hers, fingers interlocking and rubbing his thumb over the back of her hand as he waits for her to carry on, “But I promise, I’m not an arsonist. I just seem to have really bad luck when it comes to places with faulty wiring.”

He’s silent for a moment as he lets her words register in his mind. Not an arsonist. Just bad luck. God, he’s so dumb.

“And!” she continues, sitting up straight again and poking a finger of her free hand into his cheek and snatching it away quickly before he has a chance to bite it, “You’re not even on duty today! I wouldn’t have even been in that store if you hadn’t been running late because you had to help Reggie with something.”

“Ah so it’s Reggie’s fault then,” Luke agrees and is rewarded by Julie huffing a laugh as she drops her head back to his shoulder, her hair tickling his cheek as he rests it against the top of her head. He gently reaches over to reattach the oxygen mask to her face as they sink back into a comfortable silence.

Luke thinks back to an hour ago, when he’d been hovering over Reggie’s shoulder and trying to help him work out the issue with a song he was helping to produce. He thinks about the look of shock and then excitement that had taken over his best friend's face at the sight of him scratching out a rough arrangement on his notes. How it had been the first time outside of drunken nights — and a dark crappy bar’s creaky stage for an open mic night — that he’d played anything on his guitar for someone.

When Luke had sworn off music, out of what he can now recognise as fear, he’d never really stopped to think what it meant for the people around him. At the time, he’d thought his mom was just still trying to keep the peace whenever she’d asked why he didn’t play anymore, had thought Alex and Reggie were happy for an excuse to not follow him on his quest for connections with the world, had thought that maybe music wasn’t for him.

He had never thought maybe they missed him playing as much as he had loved it.

And then he’d met Julie and that part of his brain that he’d shut off had exploded with lyrics and melodies and chords he hadn’t thought about in years. He still hadn’t sung, still wasn’t sure if he could, but Luke was starting to think maybe not being able to sing was okay if he could grab his guitar and finally express his feelings through music again. Some of them at least, he turns his head a little to press a kiss into Julie’s hair before resting his cheek back in the same spot.

“I’m sorry I was late,” he whispers, “And that I accused you of being an arsonist.”

“I’ll forgive you,” she mutters, the sound a little lost by the mask but he doesn’t miss the way her lips are pulled up into a smile, “If you buy me pancakes.”

//

“Okay what about this one?” Luke asks as he holds up a vinyl, The Bangles staring out at them from under their big hair and questionable bangs of the Manic Monday era.

“I’m trying to find some music from this century,” Julie rolls her eyes at him as she pushes his hand down and Luke pouts at her, which only earns him another eye roll.

“But you’re going to need some of the old classics too! You did say you lost most of your music in the fire,” he points out, slipping the vinyl into the small growing collection under his arm with a sweet smile at her. If she’d wanted someone to suggest modern music she had to have known he was the wrong person to bring shopping.

“You know there’s this thing called spotify? It’s amazing, it has like, all the music you could possibly want on it,” she teases as she leans in a little and Luke can’t help but do the same, wrinkling his nose as he pretends to look lost.

“Never heard of it, guess you’ll just have to come home with me later and show me how to use it,” his eyes glance down at her lips before slowly trailing back up to her eyes in time to see her rolling them again, though he also notices the slight flush to her cheeks and grins.

“Only if you help me find the records on my list,” she whispers, and for a moment Luke thinks she’ll close the distance between them and press her lips to his and is so distracted with the thought that he misses the way her hand comes up to push at his chest, sending him rocking back on his heels and Julie sliding past him.

“Tease,” he mumbles and Julie laughs from behind him, already moving through the rows and looking for things on her list. Things she lost in the fire, things she’s just always been on the lookout for. And Luke here’s to try and help her find them. But he’s also here for an ulterior motive and uses Julie’s distraction of looking through the r&b to head towards the other side of the store where he knows they keep the unsorted second hand stuff.

He’d started his hunt a few months ago, stopping by various music stores and second hand places to look around and ask the staff to let him know when they get a new stock of vinyls or tapes. So far he’d not had much luck. But he was feeling confident about today. He’d played music for Reg and Julie wasn’t an arsonist and Willie was ‘stealing’ them some of his uncles cheesecake for tonight. So today was the day he was going to find it. And it would be the best housewarming gift for when Julie moved into her new place next month.

And he really hopes he can find it because his back up plan is a plant of some kind and that just feels too cliche.

He shifts through copies of The Beatles and The 1975 and a shocking number of The Zombies which is something he’ll be thinking about later. He’s down to the last few vinyls in the crate and close to heaving a sigh when he flips back the second to last one and grins. Purple petals falling onto the upturned faces of four women who are smirking up at their band name on a dark blue background. Pulling it out, Luke flips it over and skims the five songs on the back and bites his lip as he examines the small signs of wear and tear on the edges but otherwise seems fine. Almost perfect condition.

He just knew today was a good day!

“Luke!” Julie’s voice startles him out of his thoughts and he only just has enough time to slide the record between two others in his hands before she spots it as she runs up to his, fingers wrapping around his forearm as she tugs at him, “They have a photo booth! Come take some photos with me. Please?”

She looks up at him with wide eyes and everyone always tells him he has the best puppy dog eyes they’ve seen, but Luke thinks that’s just because they’ve never seen Julie’s. Not that she needs them. He’d say yes to anything she wanted. Which she knows.

“Only if we take the most cliche ones possible,” he lets himself be pulled towards the back of the store where an old fashioned photo booth with a red crushed velvet curtain is nestled between stacks of crates and t-shirts on a railing. Putting the records down on the edge of one of the crates Luke digs some change out of his pocket while Julie slides onto the bench, leaving a space for him to join her.

Her hair brushes against his shoulder as she leans forward to read the faded instructions and Luke hands her a couple of dollar bills before she can even reach for her own purse. There’s a whirring sound after she feeds them into the machine and the screen flickers a few times before a countdown starts and Julie lets out a gasp as he wraps an arm around her shoulders to pull her back just in time for the first flash.

“Oh fuck,” she laughs and flings her arms around his neck, smooching their cheeks together and now Luke’s laughing, their reflections showing two people a mess of hair and half closed eyes. By the third flash Luke has his face buried in her curls as his shoulders shake with laughter while Julie tells him to get it together between her own giggles.

“Shall we try that again?” He asks after the last flash and the whirring has stopped and they’ve managed to calm their laughter down.

“I didn’t think it would be that quick!” Julie shakes her head, but fishes some more money out of her bag, tossing her hair over her shoulder as she sits up, “Okay. We need a plan this time around. Money in. A nice smiling one, a funny face, kiss on the cheek, classic peace sign. Got it?”

Julie waits for him to nod before leaning to put money in the machine again, and Luke honestly has every intention of following her plan. Smile, funny face, kiss on the cheek, peace. Cliche, just like he’d wanted. But as the countdown starts and Julie sits back, shoulder brushing against his as she smiles, he can’t help but turn to smile at her. At the way she’s tucked some curls behind her ear so he can see the butterfly earrings and the little stars that trail up from her seconds to her helix, at the collection of necklaces glinting at her throat, the chain of one resting below the pulse point on her neck that he knows makes her moan when he presses his lips against, the way her lips stretch into a smile that he knows if she was facing him he’d be able to see the little gap between her teeth.

A flash goes off and Luke licks his lips, mouth ticking up a little at the side as she turns to look at him with her eyebrows raised, “You were meant to be smiling.”

“I was,” he defends and proves his point by grinning at her, teeth sinking into his bottom lip as he tries to keep it in check.

“You’re not following the plan.” But she doesn’t seem to be too annoyed, even as the second flash lights up the booth and Luke knows they only have a few seconds before the third one goes off so he takes his chance and leans forward to capture her lips before she can say anything else.

They miss the third flash, and the forth.

When they leave the booth a few minutes later his hair is sticking up and his lips are a little swollen and Julie has to spend a few seconds readjusting her crop top so it’s no longer riding up. If the guy at the front counter had noticed them giggling or being in the booth for too long he doesn’t show it and Luke’s not about to push his luck.

“See, told you I was smiling,” he mutters as he looks over her shoulder to look at the two strips of photos in her hands, at the blurry giggling messes that they are in the first one and the heart-eyed cliche couple they are in the second. He’s starting to get what Alex, Reggie and Flynn mean about the way they look at each other.

“I’m going to go pay for these then we can go check out that place with the lamp you liked,” he says, pressing a kiss into her temple and reaching around her to pick up the records and gently pulls the second photo strip from her fingers, dropping her a wink as she turns to pout at him, “I’m going to put this one in my locker at work. They’re starting to run low on stuff to tease me about.”

Julie’s laugh follows him as he makes his way up to the counter where the guy doesn’t even blink at his messed up hair or the bruise he’s pretty sure is starting to show up on his collarbone given how tender it feels as he brushes past it to scratch his neck. Which is another thing for his friends to tease him about.

Luke grins at the strip of glossy photos in his hand. So worth it.

+ONE

As he waits for the shower water to heat up a little Luke taps out a quick reply to Julie promising he’ll be at her new place by two to help her move boxes and unpack. Which is all very exciting. He’d personally been round to check all the fire detectors and the wiring were up to code, and should anything happen, her new apartment was in his station's district so he’d be on the scene to help.

Apparently even Ray found that reassuring, and Luke was trying to not let that go to his head. His girlfriend's dad likes him. He thinks that’s pretty cool. Of course Ray had also taken up texting Reggie a lot which was a little weird but it was fine. He had bonus points of saving both his kids from fires.

Locking his phone he puts it on the counter, bobbing his head as a song from a tiktok plays in his head as he moves back over to the shower and stepping into the hot water.

He doesn’t really know what happens next.

One minute he’s lathering shampoo into his hair, head swaying from side to side and hips rocking in a circular motion as he hums along with the song in his head.

And then his mouth is opening and he’s singing.

“We're stuck where we are, with no house, no car. Castaways, ahoy, we are castaways,” his voice tails off as he starts humming again as he sticks his head under the shower stream to start rinsing off the shampoo. Only he only gets as far as leaning a little forward before he realises what’s just happened.

“Holy shit!” he sputters, stumbling a step backwards and wiping water out of his eyes only to wince and swear again as he rubs shampoo into them. Fumbling, he reaches for the face cloth he knows is somewhere nearby and wipes at his eyes again, blinking and heart racing.

For a moment the only thing he can hear is the water hitting tiles and his heart racing in his chest and that damn song still playing on a loop in his head. Swallowing, Luke sucks in a breath and tests his voice out again. He hasn’t sung anything in seven years but he can still remember the lyrics to Now or Never like he’d written them yesterday and as he pushes himself off the wall his fingers absentmindedly start picking out the chords as the words breeze out of him.

Like they’d just been waiting on the tip of his tongue all this time. And fuck, he really does feel like he’s been hit with an electric hammer to the heart with how fast his is beating right now.

He knows exactly what happens next. He acts on instinct. And instinct tells him he has to tell someone else.

Not stopping to turn the water off, or even grab a towel, Luke jumps out of the shower, fingers scrambling with the lock on the door before he can jank it open and then he’s running down the corridor, bare feet slipping on wood.

“Boys!” He shouts, skidding to a stop in the doorway of the living room, chest still heaving as he bends over a little to catch his breath. Pushing wet — and still soapy — hair out of his face, Luke turns a wide grin at the three pairs of wide eyes watching him from the sofa. He hadn’t known Willie was here. But that’s fine. Willie’s practically family, they’re all just waiting for one of them to propose at this point.

“Uh Luke—” Reggie starts, eyes firmly on his face even as his hand waves in the general direction of his legs, but Luke doesn’t have time to worry about dripping water on the floor right now.

“Boys. I sang again.” It’s a statement. A sentence that wouldn’t mean anything to anyone else. That wouldn't be a big deal or cause for celebration.

But Alex and Reggie had been there after the fire, after the doctors had told him to rest his voice, after he’d tried once and refused to do it since. It had been Alex and Reggie who he’d blown up at one day after school at 17 when they’d suggested going out for the school talent show as an attempt to help him. It was Alex and Reggie who have been with him every song-less day since.

So they get it.

“Holy shit,” Alex whispers, standing up from the couch at the same moment that Reggie vaults over it, both of them grinning just as wide as Luke is sure he is.

“And your voice, it was…” Reggie trails off, but his eyebrows wiggle and Luke gets the point.

“I don’t want to brag but I think a seven year vocal rest might have possibly made me sound better,” he shrugs one shoulder, but the calm, cool and casual air he’s trying to project is totally ruined by the way he’s practically bouncing in place. He feels jittery, his fingers itching for strings, mind racing with years worth of lyrics he’s suppressed.

“We told you!” Alex slaps his hand on his bicep, only to cringe as he wipes his now wet hand on his jeans.

“Dude you are so naked right now,” Willie laughs from his place on the couch, and Luke can’t help it, he drops one eye in a wink and dodges out of the way of Alex’s fist, which only makes Willie laugh more, “Happy for you though man. On the singing again. Does this mean the band is back together?”

The three of them look at each other, eyebrows raised and smiles stretched and Luke doesn’t know. But he does know that something has shifted back into place inside him. Like he’d been walking around a little off balance, not enough to really notice it until he’d been righted.

“How about we discuss future band plans when you’ve washed the shampoo out of your hair,” Reggie suggests, and Luke’s not self conscious about being naked in their living room, but he is starting to feel a little cold.

“Good plan. And then I need to get to Jules’ to help move furniture,” he points once at Reggie, and then at Alex as he starts walking backwards down the corridor, “And then we can get this band back together.”

The bathroom has filled with steam by the time he gets back, and the water is a little too hot, but Luke doesn’t care as he jumps back under the stream and finally washes the shampoo from his hair as he sings through Now or Never twice.

//

The second he steps through the door Luke knocks into a bed frame and only just manages to catch it before it topples on to him, raising an eyebrow at Julie who’s grimacing at him from the other side, “I say we move the bed first.”

Her eyebrows shoot up and she rests one hand on her hip, “Oh?”

“Not for— I just meant before it knocks someone out! Not for that,” his eyes trail down her body, at the denim shorts and plain purple t-shirt she’s tied up to making to a crop top that expose just a little of her skin, and he can’t help but grin, “Not yet at least.”

“You grab that end? And try not to drag it on the floor, I don’t want to scratch them,” she says, hands wrapping around one side of the frame and tilting her head at him until he follows suit. There’s a lot of awkward pulling and lifting and bumping into stacks of boxes with Julie’s neat writing scrawled along the sides. Then they spend a solid few minutes struggling to fit the thing through her bedroom doorway until they do some pivoting and silly impressions of Ross from friends that does little to help but make them laugh.

“Okay, okay,” Luke pants, resting against the wardrobe that’s already in the room and looking around, “I’ve lifted weights in the gym that were easier to move then that thing.”

“My tia says a sturdy bed frame is always a must have,” Julie grins at him from where she’s sat on the floor, with her legs outstretched and Luke wrinkles his nose at her before pushing away from the wardrobe to offer her a hand up.

“Come on, let's get the rest of your boxes into the correct rooms and we can test out this sturdy bed frame your tia recommended,” he pauses after pulling her up, the lack of distance between them meaning he has to look down at her as his brows pull together in a frown, “Wait that sounded weirder than I meant.”

“Just a little,” she agrees, nose wrinkling and reaching up on her tiptoes to wrap her arms around his neck and kisses him. It’s soft and quick, like they’ll have forever for something more. And then she pulls away, hands sliding down his shoulders to his biceps, “Can you move the boxes for the kitchen and I’ll get the ones for the bathroom?”

//

It’s a few hours later when all the boxes that had been stacked by the front door are spread out in the correct rooms and they’re sitting surrounded by pieces of wood and nails that are supposed to make an ikea table.

What Luke is learning from it is that Julie is not very good at flat pack furniture.

“It says the weird squiggly one goes into the inside holes at the bottom! But I can’t find any holes and the weird squiggly things won't turn!” she whines, jabbing the screwdriver in the direction of the half built table and waving the instructions at him like he’s personally written them.

“Well uh might help if you turn it the other way around,” he suggests, fingers wrapping around one of the legs and rotating it so the side that had been facing him and is now facing Julie and she can see the holes she was missing. The flush in her cheeks darkens a little as her mouth opens to form a silent ‘oh’ and Luke grins, stretching an arm out to pry to the screwdriver from her fingers. “How about we take a break from building furniture, have some lunch? I’m no Alex but I know how to fry an egg and bacon.”

Julie heaves a sigh, head falling into her hands and then pushing her hair out of her face as she looks back up at him with a tired smile, “I can go and grab us some coffees?”

“Sounds like a plan,” he smiles at her, pushing up onto his knees and kissing her cheek before pushing up further on to his feet with a groan and then offering Julie a hand up too.

“Try not to burn my new apartment down while I’m gone,” she taps her fingers against this chest and then picks up her phone and moves towards the front door to find her shoes.

“Think you’ll find you’re the arsonist in this relationship,” he calls after her, grinning as she laughs into the kiss that she blows to him before shutting the door. And then he’s in her apartment by himself. The place still feels a little empty and cold, with the only furniture in place being the sofa her dad and brother had helped carry up earlier and the bookcase against the wall that connects to the second bedroom. But Luke had caught a glimpse of her old apartment, and had seen her room at her dad's house and knew that while Julie might not be good at putting furniture together she was really amazing at decorating a space and making it feel like home.

After rooting through one box to find a frying pan and a second to find a spatula, Luke grabs eggs and bacon and glances at the spinach that’s part of Victoria’s welcome package before ignoring it and turning back to the stove. He’s pretty sure she’s got a speaker or a radio in one of these boxes somewhere, but he doesn’t want to go rooting through her things. Not that he needs to, because he can make his own background music now and it’ll probably be better then anything on the radio too.

Idly, as he cracks open an egg, Luke wonders if maybe he’s a little too cocky inside his own head for someone who hasn’t sung a note in seven years but well, he’s never been known as the humble one in his friend group.

“You can't start a fire, you can't start a fire without a spark,” he sings, hips swaying as he pokes at the eggs, “This gun's for hire, even if we're just dancin' in the dark,” he mumbles through the next sentence as he flips a piece of bacon before throwing himself back into the song in full force, “Radio's on and I'm movin' 'round my place. I check my look in the mirror,” he sucks in a breath and raises the spatula up to his mouth like a makeshift microphone and scrunches his eyes shut as he almost growls the last sentence, “Wanna change my clothes, my hair, my face!”

“Oh.”

If he hadn’t been gasping for a breath he might not have heard her. Because he certainly hadn’t heard her come back in, but as lowers his spatula and spins around he comes face to face with Julie clutching a tray of drinks and staring at him wide eyed.

“Uh, hi,” and, for some reason, he waves at her with the spatula while his other hand rubs at the back of his neck with a sheepish smile, “Sorry I uh, didn’t hear—”

“When did you start singing again?” She blurts out before he can finish his sentence and right. He hadn’t told her. He’d nearly gotten squished by a bed frame and forgotten about his news.

“Um like, six hours ago?” He shrugs, finally putting the spatula down and taking a step towards her, suddenly nervous in a way he hasn’t been since their first date.

“That was— you’re—” she trails off, eyes trailing over his face with something that looks like awe, but Luke doesn’t understand why. Shit maybe time has fucked with his brain and he actually sounds shit? Oh god is she going to break up with him for being a terrible singer?

“Fuck Luke, you never said you could sing!”

“Yes I did,” he frowns at her, “I said it on our first date that I used to sing and then I stopped because of a fire!”

“Yeah but I didn’t know you could sing like...that!” She shakes her head slightly, her smile widening as she puts the drinks down on the counter and closes the gap between them, arms reaching up to circle around his neck and Luke’s hands automatically rest on her waist, fingers brushing against the strip of skin above the waistband of her shorts and below her top.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” she asks.

“Nearly got hit by a bed frame,” he shrugs and flexes his fingers against her waist when she giggles.

“This is big,” she breaths, and her smile softens a little and Luke’s eyes dip to her lips before going back to her eyes, “This is big, right? Because you sounded pretty amazing just now. And it really fucking hot too, but if this isn’t an exciting thing I can—”

“No this...it’s big and it’s exciting,” it’s his turn to cut her off with a shake of his head, and his fingers trail down her ass and trace the edge of the top of her back pocket before sliding in and squeezing, Julie rocks forward, mouth opening to say something but Luke takes his chance to put his lips against hers and find her tongue.

She moans into his mouth and Luke walks them backwards until the hand that’s on her waist hits the counter. He lowers his hand to tap her thigh, and without breaking apart she lifts her leg up to his hip and he hoists her up the rest of the way until he can balance her on the edge of the counter and get better leverage. Julie pulls away first, her breathing heavy and Luke smirks at her before trailing his lips up her jaw and down her throat, paying extra special attention to her pulse point on his way down.

“You really found me singing hot?” he whispers as he sucks at a spot just above her collarbone, nipping at her skin when she only moans instead of answers.

“You already know you're hot,” she groans, fingers in his hair and tugging gently until he gives in and lets her tug his head away from his attack at her collarbone and can reattach her lips to his. And Luke’s not about to complain about that either. Kissing Julie in any way is one of his favourite things. He pulls away first this time, pulling his hand free of her pocket and wrapping it around her thigh to push her further onto the counter. Her whine of protest at the lack of contact pulls a grin from his lips as he leans forward to kiss her again quickly, once, twice, and then runs his hands down her legs slowly as he pulls away again, head lowering back to the dip between her clavicle.

“Fire,” she whispers, and Luke grins against her skin because yeah, he kinda feels like he’s on fire right now too. Julie runs her fingers through his hair again, nails scratching at his scalp, “Luke. Fire.”

“I know, Jules, me too,” he mutters against her, lips moving up the other side of her collarbone and half wondering if she’d mind if he ripped her t-shirt and — “Ow!”

He pulls away sharply, eyes widening as he looks at her while one hand goes to his head to rub at the spot where she’d pulled at his hair too hard, “What was that for?”

“Fire!” Julie shouts and points over his shoulder. Where the stove is. Where Luke had been cooking before getting distracted. Where a small grease fire is now raging in the pan with eggs and bacon for fuel.

“Fuck,” he hisses, dropping his grip on Julie’s leg to lunge for the box of kitchen equipment to pull out a metal baking tray before turning back to the fire and slamming the tray on top, wincing at the heat but pushing through to turn the stove top off and push the pan to the back.

Hands on his hips, Luke blows out a breath and is about to ask if Julie is okay when he hears her burst out into laughter. Eyebrows raised, he turns to see her still on the counter top, fingers gripping the edge as her legs swing back and forth and she leans forward, “I thought I told you not to burn down my apartment?”

“Guess I’ll just have to find a way to make it up to you,” he chuckles and, checking the pan isn’t about to burst into flames again, turns his attention back to what he was doing with a little more attention to detail then before.

//

“I got you a gift,” he whispers much later after the sun has set and they’d ordered pizza and given up on building furniture to pile blankets and pillows on the floor of her living room to stretch out on. Julie turns her head from where it’s resting against his chest to look at him, eyebrows raised and a small smile playing on her lips.

“You got me a gift?” she repeats, “You didn’t have to get me anything.”

“I know but…,” Luke shrugs and gently dislodges her head so he can reach over to grab his boxers and slip them back on before getting up and padding across the apartment towards the front door to retrieve the wrapped box he’d left there earlier. By the time he’s padding back to their nest of blankets Julie is sitting cross legged and pulling her hair out of the neck of his t-shirt.

“It’s uh,” he rubs at the back of his neck as he sits back down, mirroring her position and carefully setting the box between them, it’s dark green paper rustling a little as Julie traces a finger down one edge, “Well you’ll see. And if you don’t like it or— or if it’s too much then that’s fine. I can uh I can take it back or something. But I just, you said it was important to you.”

There’s a quizzical sort of look on her face, brows furrowed and lips pursed as she pulls the box closer and finds the edge of the paper to unwrap it. Luke watches her face carefully as she pulls the paper free and then slowly lifts the lid off the box to see the record nestled in purple tissue paper underneath. Her hand freezes with the lid half in the air, and her lips part and fuck there’s tears in her eyes. He gives her a moment before tilting his head to try and catch her eyes, but they’re tracing over the cover art.

“Jules,” he whispers, though he doesn’t know what he’s going to say, if he should be apologising or comforting or what. “Is it too much?”

Julie blinks and Luke watches as a tear glides down her cheek and he aches to reach over and catch it but she’s closing her eyes, head shaking as a watery laugh bubbles past her lips.

“Where on earth did you find this?” She finally asks, turning eyes of unshed tears at him but she’s smiling so he’s going to guess happy tears.

“Remember that place with the photo booth?” He asks and shrugs when she nods, “I asked a bunch of people to let me know if they got any second hand vinyls in and well, just got lucky that day.”

“Dad looked everywhere to try and find another copy after the fire,” she whispers, and Luke sees her fingers shaking a little as she reaches out to trace the letters of Rose and the Petal Pushers on the cover before looking back up at him, “You’re— Thank you. This is...this is amazing Luke.”

“Good thing we dug your record player out, huh?” He nudges her knee with his own and nods towards the only table they managed to complete, where her TV and record player are set up and Julie wipes at her cheeks before reaching into the box and carefully pulling her mom's record out, holding it like it’s the most precious thing in her life. Which, he supposes it kind of is.

Julie pads across the room to put the record on the machine and set the needle and Luke watches her and thinks. He thinks about music and how it has always been such a large part of his life even when he couldn’t play it, couldn’t sing. How he’d once dreamt of filling his days like this, listening to songs sung by people who understood just how amazing music was. He thinks about how he’d given up on that dream and found a new one, but how he’d ended up back here anyway.

Luke thinks, as Julie sits down next to him, her arm wrapping around his waist, as his goes around her shoulders to pull her closer, his fingers making idle circles on her shoulder through the arm holes of his top, that maybe he was always going to end up here. With Julie in his arms and music playing around them.

He thinks maybe he has a couple of fires to thank for it too.

Luke's fingers are idly playing with one of Julie's curls as the her moms voice echoes around the apartment, drums fading into the background as a piano plays them out of the song and Luke's thinking about how much she sounds likes her, and how incredibly she'd sound singing this song when it hits him. It's sudden and harsh, like a hammer has just landed on his gut and he lurches forward pushing Julie up with him as she looks at him with wide eyes. 

"What? What's wrong?" Her hands hover in the air around his chest, like she's afraid she might hurt him by touching him. 

"The first song I sang after seven years was the stupid fucking Castaways song that people keep using on tiktoks," he whines, head falling into his hands and Julie's attempts at comforting him by rubbing at his shoulder is lost in the way her laugh replaces the music, both in her apartment and in his head.

[tunedtostatic]

galaxies of my heart

Vikady, also featuring Sana and a brief Krejjh cameo

CW: injury, aftermath of torture, painkiller drugs, brief domestic violence mention (not named characters), food, discussion of medical trauma & painkiller controversies

As she speaks, one of her hands makes what could be the beginning of a motion to reach for Arkady, then folds back into her lap. Arkady wonders if Sana gave her a crash course on Not Touching Your Loved Ones Without Warning After They’ve Been Tortured Because They Might Freak Out, or if that was something she already knew from her time as a medic. Either possibility feels depressingly plausible.

I finished my first tscosi fic! In which injuries are cared for, miscommunications are miscommunicated, assumptions are countered, and kisses are kissed. Title (and lyrics referenced in the fic) are from “space girl” by Frances Forever, even though it’s kind of a fluffy song relative to some of the subject matter, but not to worry, I have a permit [unfolds a sheet of paper that reads “I was working on my Vikady fanmix in the morning the day I started this fic and got it stuck in my head big time”]

Edit: I realized 9k is a little long to be easily navigable in post form so I archived this as well. I just learned when attempting to post a credited picrew that Tumblr is still hiding posts with links, but it’s at archiveofourown dot org, /works/31851859.

Edit the second: Re-reading “adrenaline makes you do stupid things” by jaggedwolf and I'm 90% sure I accidentally stole a couple things from there rather than the general primordial soup of my brain (the line "That can't be comfortable" and maybe the general concept of Arkady making sure she gets hurt before the person she's been captured with), so adding this to give credit where due to a really great fic that you should definitely read if you haven't already.

~

The first time Arkady surfaces, everything around her is still coated in a haze as though she’s dreaming. The room is quiet, and when she takes a sharp breath in, all of a sudden Violet is leaning over her, her hair swinging near Arkady’s face.

“You’ve got very dynamic hair,” Arkady says, or at least tries to say, and then she’s asleep again.

The next time she wakes up, she wakes up completely, although her mind still feels a little foggy. Her body aches, and—yeah, based on that ceiling, she’s definitely in the medbay of the Iris 2. Which means that they made it back to the ship, or at least that Arkady did—

Fear surges through her, and she peers back and forth. Her eyes land on Sana, who is sitting to the right of her bed, crocheting something that sprawls across her lap in chaotic loops.

Her intention is to say Sana’s name, but she can’t even make it through the first syllable, emitting a sound that sounds more like the “Ssss” of the litter of feral kittens Brian and Krejjh found that one time. Great job, Patel, you’d make a better hissing kitten than a first mate. Krejjh is going to have to stop calling you First Mate Patel and start calling you Feral Kitten Patel—

The thought of Krejjh is enough to make Arkady’s whole mind flinch. Krejjh—

The feral kitten hiss must have been loud enough for Sana to hear, though, because she’s dropping her crocheting to her lap, looking toward Arkady.

“Kady,” she says warmly, at the same time as Arkady croaks, “Krejjh—”

“Is fine.” Sana’s hand comes up to rest on the pillow next to Arkady’s cheek, a steadying presence, though she doesn’t touch her.

“They were with me.”

“They were.” Sana nods. “But they’re here and they’re not hurt. Hanging out with Brian in the kitchen as we speak.” She glances through the medbay door before her gaze bounces back to Arkady, and it’s such a familiar Sana kind of motion that Arkady feels the remainder of her panic fade slightly. Speaking of octopuses of myth and legend, that’s Sana, one mental tendril keeping track of the approximate status of each member of her crew at any given time.

“How are you feeling?” Sana continues. “Park said you were in a lot of pain before you passed out. Violet has you on a painkiller drip, but she’s using the minimum the way you always want. If you’re in pain, we can raise the dose.”

Arkady turns her attention more fully to her body. Pain and sensation are present, but muffled, as though they are far away. Ribs: hurt. Arm: hurts significantly. Legs: hurt, but only a little.

It’s bearable. “I’ve had worse.”

“Kady—”

“I’m fine, Sana. Just feels like…what do you call them…colors, purple, ouch…bruises.” She shakes her head, then stills with a wince. “The others?”

“Everyone’s safe.” Sana pats the pillow where her hand rests next to Arkady’s cheek. “Park found you and Krejjh before anyone laid a finger on them. He got out fine, too. You’re the only one who was hurt, Kady.”

Arkady studies Sana’s face. “How…bad is it?”

“Six fractures, no serious tissue injuries.” Sana’s voice is gentle but matter-of-fact. “We’re going to pick up some skeletal accelerators next time we’re on-planet. Violet thinks that with those in the mix, the worst,” she gestures to the cast on Arkady’s right wrist, “should be mended in about two months.”

Arkady closes her eyes. One day, everything is fine, the next, a few backwater IGR assholes get the drop on them, and now she’s going to be out of commission for two months.

Still. Better her than Krejjh.

The thought is an icily familiar one, although yesterday she was limited to the grimmer Better just the two of us than the others. Krejjh was tied up on the other side of the room, and when the IGR goons got bored beating on Arkady, or kicked her in the wrong place and just killed her, they’d move on to Krejjh, and there was nothing Arkady could do about it—

Arkady’s eyes fly open, and she turns her head to nudge it clumsily into Sana’s hand. Sana cups Arkady’s cheek in her palm, thumb brushing over her cheekbone, wiping away wetness. When Arkady exhales, her breath is shaky. Stupid. They’re all safe now.

“They didn’t hurt Krejjh?” Her voice doesn’t sound like her own, unsteady and small.

“They didn’t hurt Krejjh.”

“Can I walk? Before the two months?” Her voice is still so small. Stupid.

Sana brushes Arkady’s temple with her fingertips, her calloused palm still warm against Arkady’s cheek. “Violet says she thinks you’ll be able to use a walking cast in three or four weeks. Or a little earlier, depending on how quickly the accelerators work their magic.”

Arkady keeps her eyes closed. “Those aren’t cheap.”

“That’s what rainy-day funds are for.”

“Do we even have a rainy-day fund anymore?”

“I will shake Other Violet down for loose change if I have to, Kady.” Sana’s fingers caress her temple again, and there is steel in her voice as she says, “This is my ship, and when one of my crew needs something, I find a way.”

“I know you do.” Arkady opens her eyes, though she finds that her eyelids seem to have grown heavier in the intervening minutes. She blinks sleepily at Sana. “You’re such a good octopus.”

Sana beams. “Thank you, Kady! I…have some questions,” she adds, “but they can wait until later, I think.”

Arkady’s eyelids are so heavy, but there’s one other thing she needs to ask. “Vi’?”

“Violet’s okay, too. She’s been taking care of you since yesterday, but I shooed her off to get some sleep.”

Arkady smiles. “’nks, S’na.”

Sana smiles back. “We’re all okay,” she says tenderly, “and if anyone out there tries to change that, I will demolish them.”

Arkady nods against Sana’s hand, straining to keep her eyes open.

“We’re all okay, Kady,” Sana repeats, and Arkady lets herself slip into sleep.

~

There are hours of restless dreams, and a dreamlike interlude where someone gently shakes her awake, holding her head up and helping her drink a medicine cap of chalky fluid, before she slips back into dreams that finally segue into deep sleep.

There is quiet music playing the next time she wakes up. She can remember where she is this time, and she lies with her eyes closed for a minute, enjoying the sound of the instrumental jazz track she recognizes from Krejjh and Brian’s Infinite Space-Themed Playlist. In the darkness behind her eyes, she doesn’t have to face the fact that she can’t walk, or run, or kick, or punch, or protect the crew, or—

Okay, maybe the space behind her closed eyelids isn’t as restful as it could be. Arkady opens her eyes.

Violet is sitting beside her bed with one leg tucked up on the chair, reading a tablet. A few strands of hair have fallen from behind her ear to brush against her cheek, and she’s biting her lower lip the way she sometimes does when she’s focused on something. Brian’s little retro radio music player is sitting on the bedside table, continuing to ooze soft jazz as Violet lifts an absentminded finger to tap to the next page, then curls her hand back into her soft sweater.

Yeah, eyes open? Definitely an improvement.

She should probably say Violet’s name, regardless of how endearing it is to watch her read. Before she has a chance to do so, though, she must breath loudly or make some kind of noise, because Violet looks up, her face crinkling into a tired smile.

“Hey,” she says softly.

Arkady smiles. “Hey, Liu. Good to see you again.”

“It’s good to see you, too.” Violet’s smile quavers for a second. “Really, really good.”

Arkady tries to make her voice reassuring. “Hey, I’m okay, Violet, huh? It’s gonna be okay.”

Violet rolls her eyes, a small smile blossoming on her lips. “You’re the one in the medbay bed, Arkady. I’m supposed to be taking care of you.”

As she speaks, one of her hands makes what could be the beginning of a motion to reach for Arkady, then folds back into her lap. Arkady wonders if Sana gave her a crash course on Not Touching Your Loved Ones Without Warning After They’ve Been Tortured Because They Might Freak Out, or if that was something she already knew from her time as a medic. Either possibility feels depressingly plausible.

“It sounds like you have been taking care of me.” Arkady smiles again. “Sana said you were here with me all night until she made you get some rest.” She thinks back, trying to pin down a faint memory. “I remember seeing you, leaning over me?”

“Yeah, you woke up really briefly last night.” Violet wrinkles up her forehead in that adorable way that she does. “You said something that sounded like, um…‘You’ve have hair’?”

Arkady grins. “Well shit, Liu, you sure do have hair, don’t you?”

Violet laughs, shaking her head back and forth. Her hair bobs around as though a breeze is passing through the medbay, and Arkady laughs too, then winces as the pain in her ribs flares.

Violet stills instantly. “You have some fractured ribs—”

“Yeah, kinda put that together.” Arkady tries to breathe with the minimum possible amount of motion.

The expression on Violet’s face makes it look like she’s in pain herself. “Would you like me to up the dose on your painkiller drip?” she asks softly.

“Nah.” Along with the flaring pain in her ribs, both of Arkady’s legs and her right wrist have that same itching, burning ache. The rest of her body is just sore, like she’s covered in bruises, which she probably is. “Uh, speaking of which, though. Could I get a rundown on what’s, you know, busted? Sana said I had…six? seven?...fractures, but we didn’t get into specifics beyond the two-month limit.” She grimaces a little at the thought.

“Six,” Violet confirms immediately, before adding, with an abashed smile, “I mean, not that that makes things that much better than seven?”

Arkady resists the impulse to laugh again, confining herself to a snort. “Can’t argue that point.”

“In answer to your question,” Violet begins, slipping into her calm medic tone of voice, “you have two cracked ribs and fractures to your left foot and right ankle. They broke your right wrist pretty badly, and I’m going to need to be very careful about injecting any accelerators there, especially if we can’t find an actual doctor on-planet to do it, so it might be a little more than two months before any, uh, heavy use, but you should have the hard cast off earlier than that.”

“Right.” Arkady inhales through her nose; exhales through her mouth. “Could have been worse, right?” At least she isn’t blubbering the way she was with Sana, but her voice still drops too small and quiet on the last word.

“It could have.” Violet’s own reply is almost a whisper, and Arkady silently swears at herself for her choice of phrasing.

When she looks up, though, Violet doesn’t look weepy.

She looks furious.

“Hey, you okay there, Liu?” Arkady stares at Violet’s clenched jaw and balled fists. “You look like you’re about to blow a gasket.”

Violet laughs a little, flexing her fingers and curling her hands more loosely back against her sweater. “Did you pick that one up from Tripathi?”

“That’s not a mechanic expression. Everyone uses that expression.”

Violet gives her a skeptical look.

“Okay, yeah, I may have picked it up from the captain. It’s still a normal-person expression, though.”

Violet chuckles, and they both lapse into silence.

This is nice, Arkady tells herself. Spending time with Violet is nice. It’s nice, it’s pleasant, it’s a way to distract herself from the itching, burning ache in her limbs and the creeping dread of knowing that if the ship is boarded, Arkady can’t even run, much less protect anyone else.

“Speaking of Tripathi,” Violet says with a smile, “I should give you an update on the latest, ahem, on-ship situation. Our captain has declared that next time she has a free moment she’s going to tear out that weird shallow closet in the hall next to Park’s room and put in inset cabinets for towels and stuff so Park and RJ and I don’t have to cross the ship for them. But when RJ found out, they said…”

Arkady tries to listen to Violet’s narration of Sana and RJ’s stalemate about the cabinets, smiling at the appropriate points while keeping a lid on the sinking feeling of knowing that for not days but weeks, she’ll be able to do jack-all do protect either Sana or RJ, or Violet, who is sitting here smiling at Arkady with love and trust in her eyes as though half the universe isn’t out to get them here in their one fragile ship that Violet wouldn’t even be on if Arkady hadn’t tricked her onto it in the first place—

She shoves the thoughts away, focusing on formulating a reply to Violet’s story. “Well, if it devolves into fisticuffs, Sana could take them, but if Sana calls a vote, I’m pretty sure Brian and Krejjh will side with RJ about the sheet music, and I don’t know what or whether Park would care.” She grins. “So, even odds.”

Violet snorts. “Well, I’ll keep you apprised, assuming none of the combatants wander in here to make their case to you themselves.”

“Medbay and a show?”

“On this ship? I wouldn’t be surprised.”

Arkady grins again. “I don’t know why Krejjh thinks being an outlaw is boring. The way we live, we practically produce our own shampoo.”

Violet snorts again before adding, in the kind of giggle-whisper Arkady most closely associates with grade-school gossip, “I can’t believe they got RJ into Sh'th Hremreh.”

“I know.” Arkady bites back another grin. “I mean, I guess we shouldn’t be surprised. Krejjh can be very persuasive.”

“If by ‘being persuasive’ you mean ‘talking loudly and enthusiastically about a piece of media until everyone in their general vicinity is compelled by gravitational media force to watch the thing in question,’ then yes, I guess you could refer to it that way.”

“I notice it hasn’t worked on you yet.” Arkady raises an eyebrow. “Or has it?”

“No, I have not dipped into Sh'th Hremreh.” Violet raises an eyebrow. “Yet.”

Arkady bites down on another chest-killing laugh before it can escape, glancing toward the radio on the bedside table. “Speaking of Brian and Krejjh creations. The notorious Infinite Space-Themed Playlist, huh?”

Violet smiles, gazing at Arkady tenderly. “You seemed a little restless in your sleep, and I’ve always hated total quiet when I’m sick, so I thought maybe it’d be nice to put on some background music.”

“Oh. Thanks.” Arkady pushes away an obscure flash of annoyance at the sentimentality of Violet taking the time to put on this playlist for an asleep Arkady as though something as trivial as music is a priority when Arkady is down for the count and Krejjh is doubtless drained from yesterday themself and the whole crew is going to have to figure out how to scrape by and cover piloting shifts and handle everything with no security officer and a stressed pilot and a tired medic and—

She shoves the annoyance aside, telling herself not to be an ass. There are literal studies showing that music is good for mental and physical health, right? And she sure as shit could use as much distraction as possible from the ache of her ribs and her ankle and her messed-up wrist. Having a playlist on is nice. This is nice.

Holst’s The Planets has come on, making for a somewhat grim background compared with the rest of the playlist, and Violet leans forward to jab irritably at the advance button until a benign rock song begins.

Arkady gives her an inquiring look, and Violet sighs, biting her lip again.

“I am so angry,” she says finally. “About what they did to you.”

“You and me both, trust me.”

Violet sighs, slumping in her chair. “You and me aren’t the only ones who are. Krejjh was pretty…shaken. Brian and Sana have been there for them, obviously,” she adds hastily, “and they’re doing fine. We can take care of each other. We are taking care of each other. The last thing I want to do is make you worry about us. But…” She trails off. “This isn’t just another day on the Iris. Not for any of us.”

“Well, that’s why the IGR does what they do,” Arkady mutters, closing her eyes. “Torture gets results.”

Violet sounds startled. “Every credible study in the universe has shown that torture doesn’t work. You said yourself—”

Arkady opens her eyes. “Torturing someone to interrogate them doesn’t produce reliable information. People know that. That’s not what it’s for. Torture is popular across the universe, through history, because it punishes people. Controls them. Their families. Whole societies.” She wouldn’t have to explain this to Sana. “When it’s on the table, you live your whole life under a threat. The actual torturing makes the people doing it feel powerful and good, and in the environment it creates, everyone else is easier to control. Win-win.”

Violet’s eyes have gone all huge and empathetic. “Arkady—” she whispers.

Something about that look always gets under Arkady’s skin. “Calm down,” she snaps. “I know you’re incapable of not freaking out when I talk about my childhood, but no, I’m not implying I was beaten up as a kid. The guards mostly just beat on adults; I think they knew that if they went after kids too often, enough people would’ve stood up against them regardless of losses. Or hey, maybe it was a vestige of human decency. Kinda doubt it, though.” She gestures vaguely with her good hand, careful not to pull at the IV. “I mean, of course I got beat up by other kids a few times, but just in a normal way, not in a torture way—Point is, yeah, I’ve known this stuff for a long time, but it’s not like you’re a stranger to it, right? You’ve spent your entire adult life under the IGR. You knew what was happening to some of the people who were disappearing.”

Violet is staring silently at her with that look of horrified concern, but hey, at least Violet’s overempathetic mind jumping directly to Cresswin as an explanation of Arkady’s knowledge on this subject is arguably preferable to her thinking through the percentage of Arkady’s life spent in Special Forces and then as an IGR guard herself, a train of logic that she finds herself hoping Violet doesn’t follow.

But that isn’t the right way to think about it, is it, her brain points out a moment later, the way it does whenever she considers discretely concealing the most hideous parts of herself from Violet. Violet is dating her. She deserves to know what she’s gotten herself into.

“It was never like…this,” she starts. “It was never me in a room with a helpless person, hurting them. But you know I was Special Forces during the war. You know I was a guard on Telemachus. Yes, I grew up on a prison planet and it’s all very sad but once you get over your latest shock about that—you’re a scientist, you can do the math and figure out that I don’t only know how this works from one side of it.”

Violet’s eyes are getting progressively wider, and Arkady drops her gaze to stare fixedly at her own hands. “They didn’t train us on the details of it; not…techniques. I mean, I don’t doubt they had people for that, but that would’ve been above my pay grade. But me, us, those goons who got the drop on us yesterday, we’re instructed pretty clearly in, ha, ‘maintaining control over a noncompliant population.’ Not like it’s just a few backwater goons breaking bones, either. When I was a guard—”

It isn’t even that her voice breaks, not really. It’s more of a stumble over the sudden realization that her voice should be breaking, or shaking, or anything other than steady and clear.

“When I was a guard, we all knew that some of the people we were guarding would be ferried to the more, ha, specialized options. Zone Z isn’t a secret.” Her voice, still flat, is rising. “And during the war…I can’t pretend that what I did in combat was better. I killed a lot of people, Violet. I killed a lot of people and they will never be alive again. You can’t say that that’s better than being a professional torturer. I can’t pretend that, and I can’t pretend some of my unit and some the people leading us…I can’t pretend that they didn’t do…” She stares down at her body. “This kind of thing.”

Silence. Arkady forces herself to look up.

Violet is staring at her in horror, but, for once, Arkady at least agrees that it’s justified.

She can feel herself breathing hard, and her face is wet again, which is frankly an indictment of her as much as anything else in this conversation. Crying to your girlfriend for sympathy about the horrible things you’ve done to other people isn’t exactly a good look.

“Look,” she says. “Some of this will haunt me until the day I die, and that’s good. It means I’m still human; it means…it doesn’t matter what it means. It’s what I need to do whether it means anything or not. I should be haunted. I think even Sana would agree with that.” She sighs. “I can figure out a way to live with this shit, and I do, but you signing up to…you know…see…someone who you knew was a smuggler and a killer doesn’t mean you thought through the implications of the IGR part of the equation before you asked me out.” Her voice is rising in irritation even though Violet is the last person in this medbay who deserves it. “I’m not the most mobile right now, but this is your medbay, I think you can find the door—”

“Arkady.”

Arkady looks up again. Violet is making steady eye contact with her. The horror hasn’t all gone out of her expression, but her voice is firm, not panicked. “I knew, when I started going out with you, that you had been a soldier with the IGR.”

“Okay, but you also assumed anyone who’d fought in the war was a ‘war hero,’ so you’ll forgive me if I have my doubts that you grasped what—”

“Arkady.” Violet’s voice is louder now, but still very level. “In case you need the reminder, I was fully aware of both your history and what the IGR was capable of the day I asked you out. You know, the day we were fleeing New Jupiter in a stolen IGR ship? That day?” A faint note of humor has entered Violet’s voice, though it disappears as she continues, “I’m going to leave for five minutes, to go to the bathroom and splash water on my face, not for good. I’ll have my communicator if you need anything.”

“Oh.” Arkady stares at her. “Okay?” she manages.

Violet walks out of the medbay, and Arkady stares blankly at the ceiling until her footsteps reenter. As promised, the hair around her face looks damp, but she looks calmer, more settled. She sets a glass of something on the bedside table.

“I brought you some juice, which you should be able to have now that you’re up and talking, but—” She sighs. “We should probably discuss this first.”

Arkady watches her.

“Arkady, I…” For the first time since her calm monologue before leaving the room, Violet looks uncertain, then presses on. “Like I said. I did know that you had been a guard with the IGR, and I did know more or less what that meant. And I knew—” She rubs her face with one hand. “Well, I didn’t know, it’s not like you can ever know with anyone, when I was a paramedic I saw cases of domestic violence where you never would’ve—anyway. I thought that I knew that you weren’t the kind of person who hurt people for your own satisfaction, and that felt like enough.” Her eyebrows crease together. “You make me feel safe. You always have.”

Arkady can feel her face beginning to get soaked again. All the things that she feels are careening around inside her, as though her heart is a ship in a bottle and somehow, within the glass, someone has conjured a storm.

“And it…sounds like I was right?” Violet lets out a breath that could almost be a shaky laugh. “You never…you’re saying you never did to anyone else…the kind of thing that was just done to you.”

She opens her mouth again, then hesitates, her words becoming slower and more contemplative.

“You’re right, though. I’m not sure I…that in the time after I’d realized the IGR was a lot less than less than perfect, I’m not sure I ever thought through the degree to which you, as a guard, would have been complicit in…those things. And…” She sighs again. “You’re right. I do think of people who fought in the war as heroes. I mean, I never really had a chance to—or, no, I can’t sit here and claim that I never had a chance. I never let myself think about how likely it was that some of the people fighting for us were…how did you put it. Specialized at things that make me sick even to think about. But also…”

She drops her gaze to her lap.

“I…I know that you killed Dwarnians. People. I know that a lot of soldiers killed a lot of people. I mean, that’s what war means, right?” She gives another shaken almost-laugh. “And I’m not—I’ve never been the kind of person who celebrates other people dying—”

“I know you’re not, Violet.” Violet is a biologist and a medic. Her work is the stuff of life, not death.

Violet slumps lower into her chair. “Yeah. But…because those deaths feel…felt…feel…partially justified to me, because the Dwarnians were trying to conquer us…maybe I let that make me forget a little that those deaths are still…deaths.”

She lifts her face, looking Arkady in the eye, and Arkady isn’t sure what she sees there. “Sometimes I wonder whether, irrespective of everything else about our lives—” Violet makes a swirly motion with her hand, as though to encapsulate the distances between worlds. “I wonder if you always would have been the kind of person who doesn’t lose sight of the death part.”

“Interesting theory, Violet,” Arkady says, once she can get herself to speak. “Doesn’t change that I was the one of us doing the killing.”

As she says the words, she realizes that they sum out to something snarkier than she intended, but there’s no bite to her voice, and Violet seems to register that.

“No,” she says simply. “It doesn’t.”

Arkady watches Violet in silence as she scrapes tendrils of drying hair off her forehead, straightening back up in her chair.

“Anyway. I’m not walking out that door, Arkady. You’re right, I hadn’t truly thought about what it meant that you were Special Forces. There are probably things about the war that I need to…well, I’ll probably never understand them completely, but things that I need to acknowledge.” She sighs. “But I meant what I said earlier. When I asked you out, I was asking you, not some hypothetical better you. Besides,” she adds quietly, “it’s not like I don’t have my own regrets.”

There’s a pretty big difference between ‘keeping your head down and getting a college degree’ and ‘actively killing people,’ but Arkady doesn’t feel like getting into it.

She lets herself sink back into the pillow. The room feels calmer, like the air on a planet after a storm.

No, it doesn’t, Violet said, and somehow, that feels like an anchor. Violet isn’t so horrified by the things that Arkady has done that she needs to pretend that they don’t exist.

“I. Uh. Okay.” Arkady attempts a smile, though she has a bad feeling that she’s making more of a weird grimace.

Fortunately, Violet doesn’t seem to mind, giving her a smile of her own that’s only a little shaky. “I’m glad we, uh, talked about this, but I’m guessing it isn’t doing your pain any good and I’m ready to shelve it for now if you are?”

“Shelving, uh. Sounds good.” Arkady nods vigorously. “Yeah.”

“Also, you owe me an apology for snapping at me,” Violet says calmly.

“Oh.” Arkady stares at her for a second. “I…shouldn’t have done that, should I?” Great job restating the obvious, idiot. “I…” Jesus Christ.

Violet is watching her silently. Arkady takes a breath.

“Violet, I’m sorry. You’re right. I shouldn’t have snapped at you about something that had almost nothing to do with you. I mean, I shouldn’t shout at you in general, that’s broadly speaking a dick move, but in this particularly context I definitely, especially shouldn’t have—”

Shut up, shut up, shut up. What is a good apology even like? Sincere. Doesn’t make it about yourself.

“What I mean is—I’m sorry.” She bites her lip. "And, uh…thank you. For, um, not holding me to a lesser standard because I was hurt.” Or because I’m someone who has hurt other people. “Not that you should have to remind me I owe you an apology, but…” She squirms. “You had enough faith in me to know I’d. You know. Want to. So. Uh. Thanks.”

So much for not making it about herself. She coughs awkwardly. “So. Yeah. Uh. You sure there’s not anything…more that you want to talk about? Because I, uh, just freaked out and dumped a ton of my garbage right into your lap, and if there’s anything else you need to say, or ask, or whatever, I’m here. I mean, I kinda can’t go anywhere else right now, but—you know what I mean.”

“Thanks.” Violet smiles a little. Arkady nods, trying to smile back and hoping this one isn’t too grimacey.

Staring at Arkady as though deep in thought, Violet says, “I don’t think there’s anything else, right now. I still want you to talk to someone about…all this…at some point. It doesn’t need to be a civilian counselor. Just…someone. But…”

Violet bites her lip. Her pained look from when Arkady hurt herself laughing is back, if it even ever left. “You have multiple broken bones and you’re stuck in bed and in pain, and right now more than talking about anything I just want you to be able to rest.”

“Oh,” Arkady manages. Helpfully, she follows it up with, “Ah.”

Violet smiles again, then hesitates. “Though, there is—"

She is staring at Arkady very intently all of a sudden, and Arkady can practically see the gears turning inside her head. She feels her own body tensing, a runaway voice inside her warning her that reminding Violet about so much of her past all in one go might mean that this is the day Violet finally does walk out the door for good.

But when Violet speaks, it’s not about the part of the conversation that Arkady was expecting.

“So…you’ve always known that torture, um, works. Ever since you were a kid.”

“What? Yeah, I—you grow up on a place like Cresswin, you get a pretty firm grasp of what torture is used for, yeah.”

Violet is biting her lip as though in deep thought. “So…when I was on the Iris…and you’d just stopped pretending to be Kay Grisham, and I accused you of wanting me to get in the cryo chamber so you could torture me for information…you said ‘We don’t torture, it doesn’t yield reliable results,’ and then you said, ‘Also, it’s wrong.’ But you believed…you knew that torture did work.” Violet’s voice is slow, her face still screwed up as though she is working something out. “Even if not for the exact purpose I was accusing you of. So…when you said all that…the reason that you, the real you, didn’t torture, that the Rumor crew didn’t torture, is just because it’s wrong.”

“Gee, Liu, glad you’re having a warm, fuzzy realization about how heartfelt and wholesome it is that our crew doesn’t torture people.” Arkady’s pent-up dread gives way to a fervent eyeroll. “Have you met Sana? Like, held a conversation with her? At any point in time? For more than thirty seconds?”

Violet sighs in annoyance. “That isn’t what—” she fires back, then stops, her voice going gentle again. “That isn’t what I meant. Do you want to try to have some of the juice now?”

“Liu,” Arkady says, a slow grin spreading across her face. “Are you keeping a lid on the snarky repartee because I’m all injured and convalescent? Because if I can say anything I want while you nobly go easy on me, can I just comment that the way that you put cereal in your milk a little at a time ‘so it doesn’t get soggy’ is mind-blowingly—”

“You’re making me. Want. To be a lot. Less. Noble. About it.”

Arkady snickers, then smiles, holding out her bruised but less-busted left hand. Violet stops mock-glaring and reaches across Arkady’s body to take it in a careful, awkward clasp, smiling at her as though…

Well, shit, Arkady doesn’t know how to put it into words, or at least not into words that aren’t all dramatic and weird. Violet is smiling at Arkady as though Arkady is some wonder of the universe that Violet can’t believe she gets to have the privilege of seeing, like a star or a comet or…whatever it is that biologists rock their socks about, a really cool bug or something.

It’s weird and kind of overwhelming, but kind of in a good way, and Arkady just wants to sit here and hold Violet’s hand, and look at Violet, and let herself be looked at by Violet like the wonder of the universe that Arkady knows that she is not but that she could, as Violet watches at her, almost believe herself to be—

“Violet,” Arkady says, wrinkling her eyebrows. “How many painkillers do you have me dosed up on right now?” She squints at the IV bag above her, dropping Violet’s hand and trying to shove herself a little more upright against the pillows. “Also, does a convalescent gal get to sit up around here? I kinda want to try some of that juice, and maybe someday even do something horribly taxing like read an update on our ship’s computer systems.”

The corner of Violet’s mouth turns up in a smile. “I’ll raise the bed. Let me know where you want to stop.”

“Right.” Arkady lies back as the fancy Iris 2 medbay bed hums its way upright. “Okay, stop.”

Raising her head from the thin pillow, she tips her stiff neck back and forth, peering around the medbay, which looks pretty much the way it always does. Sana’s multicolored crocheting bag is slung over the back of a chair.

“Let’s see, I think there’s—” Violet leans somewhere behind her, pulling out a fresh pillow and reaching forward to tuck it gently behind Arkady’s head. “Better?”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

“In answer to your question,” Violet says, still in her calm, attentive medic voice as she continues to adjust the pillows, “you told me back when I was taking down medical info on the Rumor that you prefer minimal use of sedative painkillers, and even the Iris doesn’t have any of the good non-sedative intravenous stuff, so I’ve been using the minimum of the intravenous sedative painkillers and transitioning you to our standard orals. That should mean you’re less groggy, but also that we’re blocking less of the, well, pain, so let me know if you want me to adjust the dose. It’s not all-or-nothing; I can fiddle with it a little without instantaneously sending you to another dimension,” she adds, a note of warm humor in her voice as she sits back in her chair with smile.

Arkady blinks, still stuck on the first part of that. “You did?”

“Did…” Violet frowns, visibly parsing which of her words Arkady is referring to, before her face clears in understanding. “Did stick to the minimum end of the range I considered safe and reasonable?” She gives Arkady a look Arkady doesn’t quite know how to interpret, sort of alarmed and sad. “Your medical decisions are your own, Arkady. I’m not going to override your wishes just because I care about you and seeing you in pain isn’t easy for me. Or any other reason.” Violet’s eyebrows furrow. “No one should,” she adds, in that quietly defiant tone of voice that she uses when she’s declaring something and has realized that she wants the whole universe to know it’s what she believes.

“Oh.” Arkady swallows. “Yeah.”

“We’re coming up on the next dose of the orals in a quarter of an hour,” Violet says, her voice businesslike again as she checks her watch. “In the meantime, are you ready for juice?”

“I didn’t even know we had juice.” Arkady eyes the glass with interest.

“There was some concentrate in the pantry. When Tripathi and I sorted the food, we tucked some of it away in case someone got hurt and needed easy fluids.”

“That was very forward-thinking of you.”

“On this ship, not really,” Violet mutters, holding the glass to Arkady’s lips.

Drinking from the glass as Violet holds it turns out to be somewhat complicated and require both of their full attention, but once Violet sets it back down, Arkady leans back against the pillows with a smirk. “Hey, we’re dashing space rogues. A few bumps and bruises are all part of the job.”

“‘A few,’” Violet returns, but without rancor.

“It’s my job, Liu,” Arkady snarks back cheerfully. Between the juice and the strains of one of Krejjh’s actually-good Dwarnian jazz tracks and Violet’s reassuring presence next to her, Arkady is beginning to feel more like herself than she has in a while, the helplessness of yesterday starting to feel a little further away. Even the pain is…okay, the pain is still pretty painful, actually, a constant burn at the edges of her mind.

She hesitates.

“Violet?”

“Yes?”

“Could you maybe…” Arkady licks her lips. “You said you could fiddle with the painkiller drip a little, right? Because my shitty bones kinda hurt a lot and I wouldn’t mind if they, uh, didn’t.”

“I can do that.” When Violet meets Arkady’s gaze, her voice is calm and serious. “I’ll start with a small increment. It will take about thirty seconds to take effect. Does that sound good?”

“Yeah. Yes.”

Standing, Violet adjusts something.

Arkady waits.

“Do you feel anything yet?”

The relief is noticeable, the pain in Arkady’s chest and limbs cooling down a notch. “Better. Wow. Better.” Arkady hesitates. “You, uh. Said that that was a small increment? I think I could use another small increment.”

“Okay.” Violet makes another adjustment.

This time, the relief is almost total. Arkady stares at the ceiling, feeling tears of relief prick her eyes as the burning ache eases to almost nothing.

Everything feels a little foggier, too, but she’s still here, and able to form mental sentences, and the pain is all but gone.

“That’s good.” She bites her lip as Violet sits back at her side. “That’s really, really—the pain is almost gone. Now.”

Violet swallows visibly, staring at Arkady in relief.

Arkady feels a tear coalesce and run down her cheek, and Violet reaches forward with gentle fingers to wipe it away.

“I’m glad, Arkady,” she whispers. “I’m so glad.”

Arkady lets a long breath out, looking around the room again. It’s almost like being in a new room, a room-without-pain, during a new day, a day-without-pain.

“Sana will be glad, too,” she comments wryly as her gaze lands on the crocheting bag again. “She gets all twitchy whenever she manages to have good food or meds or supplies on hand and someone doesn’t use them.” She grins. “It’s her whole octopus thing. You know, I think I called her an octopus yesterday? Krejjh won’t shut the hell up about octopi now that they’ve found out they’re, gasp, actually real, so I guess I just permanently have octopi on the brain now, and I was thinking about how Sana has her whole multitasking thing where she’s got an eye on the status of the whole ship and everyone on the crew at all times, and—damn it, I should have called her a ghost squid. She would have hated that.”

Violet is giggling helplessly. “I can’t believe you called Tripathi an octopus.”

Arkady grins lazily. “Yeah, well, now she’s gotten to enjoy living with the mystery of what the hell I was talking about. Even sedative-induced grogginess has the occasional upside, right?”

Speaking of twitchiness, Violet’s twitchy question face is back, though Arkady can tell she’s trying to hide it.

“You didn’t override what I told you, okay?” Arkady says. “You didn’t dose me up, even when I couldn’t have done anything about it, because I’d told you not to. So I figured you wouldn’t take a mile if I gave you an inch.”

“Oh.” Violet sits back in her chair, looking at Arkady with that same expression she was looking at her with earlier, sadness and something else Arkady can’t parse.                                                                

Arkady sighs. “During the war. When you got injured, they knocked you straight out. It made it easier on the medics, I guess—no panicking soldiers, just unconscious bodies to take care of until they got better or didn’t. And easier on the medics meant less medics per ship, which made it easier on the brass. I mean, I guess that was why, though I wouldn’t put it past just being a power trip for some of them—”

“I know.”

“—but it isn’t like you can easily say when it was that and when it was—” Arkady blinks. “Huh?”

Violet sighs, her eyes dropping to her lap. “That’s not just a wartime thing. When I was a medic out by O-11, some of my colleagues used too much sedative on people they thought were being a problem. Or who…might be a problem. Aggressive, scared, not ‘compliant,’ whatever. Of course, if you paid attention to who they were more likely to think was a problem…”

“I’m guessing there were patterns?” Arkady offers.

“Yeah.” Violet bites her lip. “The irony was that…this was less of a thing out in the field, but pretty often when someone was actually in the hospital, they’d be denied painkillers because the staff decided they were lying or exaggerating. It was…” Violet twists her hands in her lap. “It wasn’t just those problems, either. When you have a lot of people living in poverty, the power dynamics with whoever is in charge of access to medical treatment get…bad. It was not a good situation, and I was—you know. There. Being part of it.”

Arkady blinks, staring at Violet. Maybe the reason she didn’t know how to interpret the look in Violet’s eyes earlier was because it wasn’t actually the panicky huge-eyed way she looks at Arkady what feels like every time Arkady mentions some detail of Cresswin, but a look of recognition.

“I never thought about what it would be like to be a medic under the IGR,” she says quietly.

Violet finally looks up. “Part of it was the IGR, but a lot of my older colleagues had come up doing the same thing. It’s like you said. Republics aren’t perfect, either.”

“Oh.”

Violet licks her lips, hunching further into her chair. “It’s like you said about the war. Yes, sure, once I wasn’t a trainee and it was me and some colleagues out on a call, we were never the ones who gave those injections, used more than was needed. But that doesn’t mean that the ones I was with were always great about other things, or that others weren’t…” She sighs. “Just because I didn’t do anything especially bad myself doesn’t mean I shouldn’t have…you know, tried to do more than I did.”

Arkady stares at Violet, considering offering her her less-busted hand again, but decides against it. If she were Violet she wouldn’t want someone pawing at her trying to offer comfort about something that can’t really be comforted.

Violet’s work is the stuff of life, she thought to herself blithely only a few minutes ago, somehow not thinking about how much being a medic had to do with death and utterly traumatic shit. And-or, apparently, standing aside while your colleagues hurt and traumatized other people and then having to live with that.

“Jesus,” she says.

“Yeah.”

They sit quietly for another few minutes.

“Well, on a lighter note,” Arkady says awkwardly, “when it comes to your current cool, awesome medic job with our little band of dashing space rogues…can I, uh, have some more juice?”

The worst of the haunted look slides off Violet’s face as she smiles. “Of course.”

When the glass is empty, Arkady does reach her less-busted hand toward Violet, tugging her forward when she takes it. “Come here.”

She thinks Violet might go for a kiss on the forehead, depending on how fragile she’s thinking of Arkady as being right now, but Violet kisses her on the lips.

Their lips move together gently for a few seconds, then Violet settles back into her chair, smiling. “Your lips are sticky.”

“Excuse me, Liu, but I feel I should point out that your lips are now also sticky.”

“Touché.” Violet grins as she stands up again. “How’s your pain? We should still be transitioning you to the orals, so I’m going to get that ready now.”

“Still good.” Arkady smiles, wiggling the fingers at the end of her cast as Violet heads for the medbay sink.

“I know you and Sana are going to grump at me and Krejjh at some point for covering you and RJ instead of running,” she calls, “and then grump at me even more for making sure they hurt me before Krejjh, but if it had to be us, you are lucky you got me as a patient instead of Krejjh, trust me. They got completely freaked out when we tried to introduce them to Necco wafer candy a few years ago and still make grim remarks about ‘humans eating chalk.’ Dissolved pills would not be an easy sell.”

She’s expecting Violet to banter something back, but Violet looks downcast when she returns to Arkady’s side.

After Arkady has knocked back the chalky goo, she watches Violet carefully as she returns to the sink. That look could be about any number of things, but Arkady has the strong feeling that she’s seen it before, the first time Violet was bandaging her up after her gunshot wound on the Gay Louisa.

“Are you mad at me?” she asks, hesitantly, when Violet sits back down.

Violet’s face crinkles up in concern as she looks at Arkady. “Mad?”

Arkady grins weakly. “You know, because I went out and got myself hurt again?”

Violet’s forehead smooths out, then re-crinkles itself a second later. “I—no, Arkady, I’m not mad that other people tortured you. Or, I mean, I’m mad, I’m—furious, but at them, not at you.” She pauses. “And yes, I’m…‘mad’ isn’t the right word, but…it makes me upset that you got badly hurt to protect me and RJ, and it makes me upset that you think it’s good for it to be you who gets hurt instead of the rest of us. But you know that the times I chastise you for getting hurt, I’m not angry at you. Right?”

She smiles on the last words, in that specific abashed way that she smiles when she’s asking for reassurance about something that she thinks is just her anxiety playing up and probably not something she should actually be worried about at all.

When Arkady just stares at her, though, a look of alarm passes into her eyes. “You do know that, right?” she asks in a smaller voice. “I would never be really angry at you for getting injured.”

“Oh,” Arkady says. “Yeah. Of course I know that.” Did she?

Violet looks like she isn’t particularly fooled. “Well, now you do.” She sighs, shoulders slumping. “I’m sorry. If—hypothetically speaking, I mean,” she adds, her lips twitching in the ghost of a smile. “If you’ve ever thought I was actually angry at you for being injured in a bad situation…I’m sorry.”

Arkady blinks at her, finally managing to muster a nod.

Violet smiles a little, reaching out and smoothing Arkady’s hair. “I’m not mad at you, Arkady. There’s nothing about you being hurt and in pain that I would ever be angry about.”

“Well, not nothing,” Arkady points out. “You just said that you were upset that I try to put myself between the rest of you and danger.” She can’t resist adding, “You know, my literal job?”

“Your job is being first mate.” Violet’s voice cracks slightly.

Time to see how prohibitive this wrist cast is. Arkady lifts her hand to Violet’s face, brushing a tear from the corner of her eye. “It’s a job with a lot of facets.”

Violet sniffs wetly, lifting her own hands to gently support Arkady’s wrist as she lowers it to her lips and brushes a kiss against Arkady’s fingers.

“I’m not mad at you for putting yourself between other people and danger, Arkady,” she whispers. “In fact, it’s probably one of the reasons I fell in love with you.”

Arkady can feel her face getting hot as she stares, dazed, at Violet. “But…”

“I think it was a very brave and good thing that you did yesterday, and it scares me and makes me angry how okay you are with getting hurt to protect other people. I can feel both of those things at the same time.” Violet smooths Arkady’s hair again.

“Oh.” Arkady clears her throat awkwardly. “I. Oh.”

Violet chuckles, reaching up to dash a tear from her own eye. “You know what I feel, right now, more than anything? I’m just glad to have you back safe with me.”

“Oh,” Arkady says again. “I. Um. Hhh.” Get it together, Feral Kitten Patel. “I’m…glad to be back with you too. Um. Really glad.”

Violet smiles through her tears, and they gaze at each other in silence for a while.

“You know,” Arkady says wistfully, “I’m not exactly thrilled I can’t use a gun, or a knife, or punch anyone, or—” She cuts herself off. “Uh, you get the idea. But what I really can’t wait for is to be able to scoop you up, carry you to bed, and hold you in my arms all night long.”

“I.” Now Violet is the one blushing. “You…”

Arkady smirks, and Violet seems to regain the ability to form sentences, reaching out and caressing Arkady’s cheek. “Well, the scooping me up in your arms part will have to wait a little longer, but you should be able to relocate to your real bed some time in the next few days, and then there’s nothing stopping us from a whole lot of careful cuddling.”

Arkady smiles. “Sounds like a plan.”

“As for right now…I can’t exactly crawl into bed with you,” Violet says, sounding regretful, “but we could try…”

Pulling the chair with her, she moves so that she’s sitting as close as possible to Arkady’s shoulder, then carefully lowers her upper body to the bed so that her lower left shoulder rests just below Arkady’s right one, her face nestled into Arkady’s neck. Her left arm is presumably squashed under her, but her right hand comes up to rest on Arkady’s shoulder, thumb gently stroking Arkady’s shirt.

“Liu,” Arkady says, trying not to laugh, “that can’t be comfortable.”

Violet’s mutter against her neck sounds almost sleepy. “You’d be surprised.”

“Whatever you say.” Arkady tips her head to lean her temple against the top of Violet’s head. “Are you gonna fall asleep like that?”

“No,” comes the immediate response. “Or. Actually, this is more comfortable than I thought it would be, and I shouldn’t leave you alone for more than fifteen minutes while you’re still on the drip, and alarms are fallible so maybe I should…” She raises her hand to her comm. “Violet Liu to Iris Cockpit.”

“Attem—”

“Hello, Science Officer Liu!” sings Krejjh’s sunny voice. “How’s the patient?”

Arkady can feel Violet smile against her neck. “She’s doing pretty good, Krejjh. Hey, can you send someone down here in twenty minutes to poke me awake? First Mate Patel and I are at risk of engaging in some romantic tandem sleeping.”

“Iiiii sure can, Science Officer Liu!” The grin in Krejjh’s voice is audible, and Arkady feels a lingering echo of fear fading from her mind at the sound of them alive and well. “Aaand I’ll let you get right to it. Krejjh out.”

Arkady snorts. “I have no idea why you’re eager enough to cuddle with me that you’re willing to risk getting shaken awake in situ by a pilot making disgustingly enchanted faces at how ‘cute’ we supposedly are.”

“It’s a high price,” Violet says solemnly, her voice sleepy, “but it’s a price I’m willing to pay.”

Arkady snorts again, trying to ignore the growing feeling of sunlit happiness in her chest. Violet’s hair is soft against Arkady’s face and her body is warm against Arkady’s side, and Arkady stares up at the ceiling, trying to comprehend how and why she has gotten ridiculously, disgustingly lucky enough to be here, now, with Violet’s hand curled around her shoulder and the steady rise and fall of Violet’s breathing against her.

In the kitchen, someone or something makes a subdued crashing noise, and someone else cackles loudly. Arkady can feel Violet’s amused sigh, and she smiles, letting her eyes drift closed.

“I hope you play this song someday,” croons the radio, “and think of Earth girl who loves space girl…”

A gentle current of air from the vents stirs a strand of Violet’s hair against Arkady’s ear, and she wriggles her head minutely to dislodge it before tucking her head back against Violet’s. As she closes her eyes again, the feeling of sunlit happiness is so strong that she wonders if she’ll be the one to stay awake even as poor tired Violet falls asleep. That would be ironic, wouldn’t it?

When Krejjh enters the medbay eighteen minutes and twenty-seven seconds later, they have to bounce back and forth from one foot to the other in silent agony for several seconds at the sheer adorableness of the sight of their crewmates cuddled together on the medical bed. First Mate Patel’s forehead is smoothed out in sleep, a smile on her lips, and even when Krejjh nudges Science Officer Liu awake and she disentangles herself from her girlfriend, Arkady curls her head into the indentation Violet’s cheek has left on the pillow, as though even in sleep she knows that any space that Violet takes up in the universe is a place where she will be safe and sound.

[justimajin]

Something Smells Fishy 

› Pairing: Taehyung x Reader 

› Genre: Fluff & Angst, Crack (a very nice dose of it) - part of Bangtan Boardwalk’s fic event 

› Words: 14.1k

› Summary: Summer is finally here and vacation is on the rise. Spending some quality time with your friends and having a joyous holiday is something you’re definitely looking forward to, but a sudden turn of events proves you otherwise with the addition of a surprise guest that you’re not exactly keen on seeing. You suppose it could be worse, worse than having to lose two of your precious limbs and growing a ginormous fish tail out of nowher- wait WHAT?!

› Warnings: pg13, not much aside from fish jokes

The sound of wheels rolling against the wooden floor resonates through the dorm. 

Your giant black suitcase has been tightly packed and filled to the brim, nearly appearing on the verge of exploding soon enough. There’s a pair of peach coloured sunglasses resting against the bridge of your nose with skin that glows from sunscreen overuse and a straw floppy hat perched on top of your head. Dressed in a tank top and a pair of shorts, the adventure you’ve planned is pretty obvious at this point. 

That’s right. You’re going on vacation. 

And you won’t be alone this time. 

The red SUV is parked along the sidewalk, sunlight highlighting it’s sheer capacity. You smile when a head of blonde sticks out from the window, her arms erratically waving at you. 

“Y/N!!” She hurriedly unbuckles her belt and pushes against the car door, welcoming you with open arms. “I’m so glad you could make it!” 

“Me too Eunha.” A hand tugs at your suitcase and you release your grip, letting her prop it up into the back of the car. She squeezes it in with the rest of the luggage, gesturing for you to open the peripheral door. 

“I think Sunyi’s still sleeping back in there.” She remarks with a smirk. You frown, brows knitting together as you go to yank at the door handle. Inside, you find her passed on a handful of snacks - presumably ones Eunha probably grabbed for all of you. 

Eunha circles behind you, her hand pounding against the roof. “Hey! Sleepyhead! Wake up!” 

You chuckle as she barely stirs and Eunha apologetically smiles, “I swear she totally wanted to meet you.” 

“Uh-huh.” You lean over and rip open one of the bags, letting the scent fill through the congested car. Within moments, Sunyi’s eyes flutter open and she’s staring back at you like a child being offered a toy. 

“Really?” Eunha scoffs as Sunyi grabs the bag, scarfing down the contents. “That’s all it took?” 

“What? I was hungry.” Sunyi defends, but her eyes land right on top of you and instantly she’s lunging for you, bag all forgotten. “Oh my gosh, Y/N!!” 

Eunha sighs as you hug Sunyi back, glancing at her watch, “Well kiddos, we got approximately an hour to get to our destination. Are we picking up the guys too?” 

“Is that even a question?” Sunyi counters. You settle down into the passenger seat as Eunha takes the wheel. The engine roars and she applies pressure on the accelerator, reversing the car out. 

“I dunno, ever since lover boy came into the story we haven’t been able to hang out as much.” Eunha honestly adds much to Sunyi’s reluctance. 

“Sorry about that guys…” 

“It’s alright.” Eunha waves it off, putting on her sunglasses, “As long as you and Hoseok aren’t sucking face every five minutes while we’re trying to talk, I don’t really mind.” 

“What?” Sunyi’s eyes are narrowed, offense written all over her, “We do not suck face every five minutes.” 

“Hm, keep telling yourself that hon.” 

“What?” Sunyi interjects again, turning to you this time, “Do you seriously think me and Hoseok are like that, Y/N?” 

You wistfully smile and shrug, “I’m afraid I’m with Eunha on this one.” 

Eunha laughs and Sunyi whimsically deflates in the back, throwing her hands up in exasperation. “I can’t believe my friends hate my boyfriend.” 

“If we hated him that much, I wouldn’t be driving to his place to pick him and his friends up.” Eunha points out, but a vibrating sound pulls Sunyi out of it. 

“Speak of the devil~” She sing-songs, flicking out her phone with giggles. You and Eunha simultaneously sigh, aware that she was going to be out of reach for a while. 

“So what’s been going on with you, Y/N?” Eunha asks, shaded eyes still trained on the road, “Last time we spoke, you were pretty busy with finals.” 

“Eh, just the usual.” You shrug, stretching your arms and leaning back on your seat, “Aside from college being a nightmare, not much has been going on.” 

Eunha hums, “I’ve been looking forward to this though, we haven’t gotten together in so long and I’ve been needing a decent vacation for a while.” 

“So you’re okay now..?” Eunha cautiously says, her voice barely making out from Sunyi’s loud one in the background. 

A sad smile flickers on your lips for a brief moment, but it vanishes just as quick. 

“Of course I’m okay.” You smugly smirk, raising a brow, “What did you take me for?” 

“I know, I know.” Eunha scoffs, so used to your triumphing vibe, “I just get worried. We hadn’t heard about you in so long and then you said you didn’t want to come-” 

“I was just busy.” 

“I know.” Eunha glances at you, “But I still need to ask.”

You hum, acknowledging her concerns. 

“Well I can assure you I’m fine now, Eunha.” You playfully grin at her, warmth spreading through your features, “I’m just looking forward to spending a good time with my favourite girls after so long.” 

Eunha smiles at your confidence, but it’s broken by Sunyi’s high pitch. 

“Aww, of course I love you baby! You’re my hopeful sunshine! My darling cutie patootie!” Sunyi coos loudly, sounding more like she was talking to a child instead of her boyfriend. You and Eunha warily exchange an odd stare, right before the two of you burst out laughing much to Sunyi’s protests. 

“Hopeful sunshine? Darling cutie patootie?” Eunha enunciates sarcastically, gawking at Sunyi from the rear mirror, “That’s a lot of words for a guy who spilled his coffee on me, Sun.” 

The memory of the incident causes you to chuckle. “You guys are just jealous!!” Sunyi huffs, resuming her phone call. You assume Hoseok asked her about the random ruckus in the background because she goes on to explain that she was in the car with the two of you. 

“Jealous?” Eunha snickers, “Of what? That I don’t have a boyfriend who spills coffee on my friends?” 

“Didn’t you go on a date with one of his friends?” You bring up, recalling her sending you a picture of him, “What was his name? Junghyeon…?” 

“Jungkook.” She corrects, “He was alright. I think I could see him more as a friend than someone I wanted to date.” 

“Fair enough.” 

“I think he’s actually coming too.” She adjusts her position, looking at her rear mirror, “Hey Sun, which of Hoseok’s friends are coming with us?” 

“I’ll ask right now!” She exclaims, sweetly repeating the question to her boyfriend on the line. You and Eunha patiently wait for an answer, but silence is all that greets you. 

“Sun?” Eunha cranes her neck back for a moment, “Who’s coming?” 

“Y/N…..” She whispers, voice cracking. You twist around as well, brows furrowed at her meek tone. 

“What?” 

“Uh, well you see…” Her eyes fall onto the ground, “Hoseok was surprised to hear you were coming. I think it was because we made this plan before you confirmed so he didn’t know and-” 

“Sun, what is it?” You ask sterner this time, her pale expression drawing concern out of you by the minute. 

“H-He’s coming.” Sunyi gets out, “I’m so sorry Y/N, I wish I knew before, I-I would have said no.” 

“What do you mean he’s-” Your words die out at her guilty expression and you silently eye Eunha for a moment, who has annoyance etched onto her features. A heavy silence enters the car, and long gone is the surreal joy. 

Eunha’s lips twitch. 

“Y/N, you say the word and Hoseok will tell him not to come.” Sunyi opens her mouth as if to counteract, but the stiffening of your shoulders renders her unable to suggest anything. 

“No, it’s okay.” You state, “You guys didn’t know if I was going to come until last minute so Hoseok probably didn’t think twice to invite him.” 

“Are you sure Y/N?” Sunyi presses on, “I can still ask if it’s uncomfortable.” 

You shake your head. Although the onslaught of new information did take you by surprise, you can’t simply brush away that he was closely associated with Hoseok. 

You look at Sunyi with a smile, “Nah, it’s fine.” 

“O-Okay.” 

Sunyi sinks back into her seat and Eunha focuses back on the road. Sunyi eventually ends up falling asleep midway through the drive and Eunha occasionally chimes through with pieces of conversation for you, but you can barely respond as your eyes narrow down on the bits of scenery passing by your window. 

You hadn’t been expecting this, at least, expecting it on a vacation that you ultimately decided would have been in the best interest when it came down to clearing your mind. But you would be foolishly lying to yourself if you were prepared to face him, since he was basically summer personified and regardless to say, a deep wedge in between you and your vacation.

The ride to Hoseok’s place is exhausting long, so the moment you set your eyes on the familiar house, a deep sense of relief cascades through you. 

Hoseok is standing outside by the time Eunha pulls in, his hands energetically waving you over and a cheerful smile painted on his lips. He wears a bright blue beach shirt that has imprints of a sunset, and brown cargo shorts with matching sandals. His black hair has been pushed back with a sheen of hair gel, oddly giving him the mixed appearance of a frat boy and a tourist at the same time. 

You keep that opinion to yourself when Sunyi jumps out of Eunha’s car in enthusiasm, reaching out to hug him instantly. Although you and Eunha have always had your fair share of making fun of the duo, moments like these draw a genuine smile from you at their display of affection.

“Y/N! Eunha!” Hoseok greets you with a friendly smile. You return it and he gestures for all of you to follow, “The guys are inside, I’ll just call them out.” 

Eunha nods and sits down on Hoseok’s red suitcase, huffing as sweat starts to accumulate at her temples. You laugh when she begins to exaggerate her breathing and starts dramatically fanning herself, your laughter only being cut short once a man in a black shirt and similar cargo pants pops out. 

“Hurry up guys, we’re going to be late!” He shouts behind him, placing his large bag onto the ground with a scoff. You narrow your eyes at the size of it compared to the suitcase Eunha was sitting on, an interesting military design covering the exterior. 

He looks up, eyes immediately widening at the appearance of your group until his sight halts at Eunha. 

“O-Oh hi...” You raise an eyebrow at his sudden shyness, only able to fully connect the dots once your eyes land on Eunha’s bashful expression. A huge smirk crosses your lips and Eunha glares at you, but that simply serves to increase it. 

“Hi.” She warmly replies, catching him by surprise. Before you can experience any more awkward air, another person runs out of the house. 

“Sorry Jungkook! My bag’s zipper got stuck.” He pouts, sight landing right onto you. He’s dressed in purple hoodie and black shorts, bright orange hair poking out from underneath the hood. 

“Hi!” He reaches out his hand for you to shake, “I’m Jimin.” 

You smile and take his hand before he goes around introducing himself. Jungkook does the same towards Sunyi and you have to admit, Hoseok’s friends don’t seem so bad. 

Sunyi grins at you like she can read your mind, ecstatic that something’s worked in her boyfriend’s favour. You roll your eyes, just glad that you’ll be spending your vacation with some decent people. 

“Let’s go, we need to hit the road already!” Hoseok’s voice chimes from afar and he emerges out into the driveway. Judging from Sunyi’s averted eyes and Eunha’s surprised ones, you can already assume who the last friend to leave the house is. 

You turn around at the sound of deep laughter, heartbeat spiking up and rapidly thudding against your ribcage. Your eyes come into direct contact with the familiar shade of blonde hair and sun-kissed skin, only now he also has pink shades on and his hair has been pushed back with a headband. There’s a faint marking of red and blue at the side of his neck, your eyes enlarging at the realization that the markings formed into the shape of a butterfly. 

It makes him look drastically gorgeous and to see him appear like that in front of you now, makes you sick to your stomach. 

You watch as he stops laughing at Hoseok, lids dropping down and face contorting back to normal. You watch as his vision lands straight on you and how all the joy in his expression moments ago, contorts into utter surprise. 

You wonder if there’s a nearby bush you can hide yourself in. 

Sucking in a sharp inhale as he draws closer, a strained smile is plastered onto your lips, “Hi...” 

“Hey.” He playfully smiles, hands stuffed inside his short’s pockets. Compared to you, he doesn’t appear to be as frazzled, just merely intrigued. “I didn’t know you would be here.” 

The surprise is apparent in his voice too, “I was a last minute addition.” You clarify and he hums, sending an understanding smile in your direction. The air becomes mute between you for a split moment, right before Jimin comes rushing forward. 

The orange haired boy scratches the back of his head, “Taehyung, can you help me load the suitcases into the car? Hoseok’s going to check into the place soon.” 

“Oh yeah, sure thing.” He follows Jimin to Eunha’s car and Sunyi quickly grabs your arm soon after, ushering you closer to the group. 

After contemplating how long it’ll take to arrive, you decide on getting into the two cars and making your way over. The place you’ve chosen for your vacation is actually an area of land that Hoseok’s family has owned for several years and occasionally rent out to people in need for some time off. Sunyi has originally suggested you all visit there together at least once, but both yours and Eunha’s schedules were always too far off from ever actually making plans. 

Needlessly to say, you’re pretty excited. The opportunity right now is perfect for all of you and although the trip has taken a turn of events you’re not particularly fond of, you’re simply here to relax first and foremost. 

Slipping into Eunha’s passenger seat, her car consists of you along with Sunyi and Hoseok in the back. Jimin and Taehyung are with Jungkook in his black SUV, closely following behind. 

Hoseok has his phone planted against the side of his face, his lips pursued. “That’s strange.” 

There’s a crease in between his brows as he stares at the device.

“What is it?” Sunyi wonders. 

“The call’s not connecting.” He tries again, but the call cuts off, “I need to confirm that we’ll be arriving soon, but it’s like they don’t even have a signal.” 

You peer behind you as Hoseok continues to fiddle with his phone until Sunyi offers to try calling through hers instead. Hoseok takes the suggestion and tries again, but the attempt ends up failing as well and the distress is clear on his features. 

“This is so weird.” Hoseok scorns, scanning both of their phones. You assume that the connection problem has something to do with the line cutting off completely, so another idea sparks in your mind. 

“It's family owned, right? Why don’t you try calling your parents?” You propose, “They’ll probably know what’s going on.” 

Hoseok hums, “That’s not a bad idea.” He places a call in his own phone and patiently awaits. The sound of a woman resonates through the phone and Hoseok instantly recognizes her. 

“Hey Mom, it’s me.” He confirms, “Do you know what’s been happening at the lodge? I’ve been trying to call to check in but no one seems to be picking up.” 

You and Sunyi patiently wait for an answer, but Hoseok's dejected expression soon surfaces. 

“Oh...I see…Alright, thanks for letting me know.” He deeply sighs as the line cuts, facing the two of you with regret in his eyes. 

“Sorry guys, but the area’s been closed down because of a recent drought.” 

“What, really?” Sunyi asks right away, and Hoseok nods. You and Eunha let out a collective sigh. 

“Well that sucks.” She chimes, briefly looking back at the Hoseok and Sunyi, then you. “I guess the only thing we can do is turn around. Vacation time is over, folks.”

“Argh! I was so looking forward to this!” Sunyi rants and you groan in agreement. 

You’ve only started on this trip and it seems like whatever needed to go wrong, has gone wrong. You wonder if being around Taehyung is already bringing you misfortune again, but that thought clears up once your eyes fall upon a vast expanse of water. 

“....is that a beach?” 

Blinking, you point towards the grey sand covering the land, the black-blueish water next to creating waves. There’s small teal specks glittering in the water, something that makes you wonder if your eyes are playing tricks on you. 

Hoseok and Sunyi hum in acknowledgement and Eunha raises an intrigued eyebrow. “Why don’t we check it out?” 

“I don’t know…” Eunha whispers, “I’ve never seen this place around here before.” 

“Yeah and that water...” Sunyi narrows her eyes at the way it appears sparkling dark blue in the middle of the day, “Looks sorta of creepy…” 

“It does.” Hoseok whispers, sounding in disbelief. Lips thinning, your eyes stray around before they land on the large house near the shore. 

“Look! They even have shelter!” You point out, though your group still seems a little unimpressed. “How about we at least go down there and have a look, hm?” 

Eunha frowns, her hands tightening on the steering wheel, “Okay, but tell the guys too.” 

“Roger that.” Hoseok confirms, presumably calling one of them as he lifts his phone to his face. You observe the water again, honestly not seeing what all the fuss is about. 

“I guess it does look pretty.” Sunyi mentions and Eunha hums. 

“I really don’t want to drive all the way back, so I don’t think there’s any harm in checking it out.” 

You smile, glad there were on board with your idea. Truthfully, you were prepared to set up a tent right here and now just for the sake of getting a vacation, so you’re not really on par for questioning the place at the moment. 

~

It’s actually quite decent. 

After Hoseok explained the situation to his friends, they all agreed with you in at least seeing what it had to offer. And as it turns out, it’s a lot better than you would have initially imagined from far away. 

The house is warm and cozy, right next to the salty shore. They rent out rooms on a daily basis and the original ominous appearance of the ocean ends up being a purpose, the “unique theme” of the place that’s meant to draw in customers, as the generous owner remarks. You end up leasing three rooms in total - one of your trio and two for the guys - and everyone is content with the notion that their gracious vacation wasn’t on the loss of being cancelled due to a mere drought. 

Hoseok in particular, is ecstatic with the idea and this shows with his constant cheerfulness in his interactions with Sunyi, to the point where you eventually have to drag her into your shared room for some much needed rest. All of you settle in for the night, planning on resuming your blissful vacation in the morning. 

The crisp sun rises bright and early, a clear blue sky greeting you. All your friends are dressed in their swimming attire, ready to enjoy the most of the beach as they can. 

Hoseok runs and dives head first into the bluish waters, plunging into it through a huge splash. Instead of floating, he ends up sinking into the water and resembles something akin to a dead body, an action that has Sunyi bursting out laughing until he finally manages to poke his head out. 

Jimin and Jungkook are together, engaging in what you suppose to be a water splashing fight that Jungkook inherently seems to be winning. Eunha passes by them, keeping her head out of the water and spinning around to face you. 

“What are those two even doing?” She laughs, clearly watching in with you. You shrug from afar, finding shade underneath a giant tree and keeping your feet dipped in the chilling sea. “You sure you don’t want to come in? It’s really nice.” 

You shake your head right away, raising your legs, “The water’s really cold, I’ll come in once it gets warmer.” 

Eunha hums, “Okay, I’ll be here so just let me kno-” 

Her voice cuts off and all you see is a blur of water splash by you, two concerned faces emerging. 

“Y/N, are you okay?!” Jimin hurriedly questions, kneeling down at your thoroughly soaked form. You clench your teeth, preventing them from chattering in the midst of the freezing cold water sticking to your skin. 

“I’m fine.” You get up, attempting to shake off all of the excess water droplets as you do. Eunha pops out from behind you, holding onto your arm. 

“Here, let me take you inside.” 

“It’s alright.” You wave her off, “If I sit in the sun, my clothes will dry up.” 

“Are you sure? You might catch a cold, Y/N.” 

You shake your head, pointing towards the blazing sun, “It’s hot enough out here to cook an egg out here, I’ll be good.” 

Although wary, Eunha lets you get out of the shade into the warmth of the sun and slowly heads back in the water. Jimin pesters you with some apologies but you don’t take too mind with it. Truthfully, it was probably not the best decision to sit right beside a huge body of water if you didn’t intend on getting soaked. 

The decision ends up being a great one, since you can already feel your skin beginning to dry within minutes. However, that’s when you feel a shift in the sand, a heavy weight flopping conveniently right next to you. 

Taehyung is dressed in a blue beach shirt and colourful shorts, his peach pink shades still resting on the bridge of his nose. He looks like he’s just woken up, hair a bit disheveled and eyes lowered. 

The sound of a shutter catches your immediate attention, and you notice him squinting his eyes and sticking out his tongue as he continues to snap away images of the large body of water with his camera. 

“You still take pictures?” You reminiscence in a joking manner, the words blurting out without thought. Immediately, you contemplate if striking up a conversation was such a good idea, but you suppose it can’t do much harm if you’re going to be spending so much of your vacation with him. 

Though, you truthfully don’t expect him to twist around and place his camera down on the sand. 

“Well, you know me. Have to carry my memories around somehow.” He retorts with a smirk. The action draws a smile on your lips, his voice mimicking your playful manner. 

You point towards the water. “Don’t accidentally drop it though, it won’t be a great price to pay.” 

“I guess that’s when I’ll have to go fishing.” 

“You can barely swim.” He raises an eyebrow at you from that, “What? Those were your words.” 

A pout surfaces onto his lips, immediately correcting you in defense, “I’ve improved.” 

“You want to test out that theory?” Gesturing to the large body of water in front of you, Taehyung immediately hugs his camera closer to his form. 

“You’ll have to save both me and my camera if you really want an answer.” 

“Is that a way of saying you still can’t swim?” 

He frowns, “It’s a way of saying that I’ll need...some assistance. Just in case.” 

“Assistance in what? Drowning?” 

“No!” He immediately protests, “I can still float pretty well.” 

“Hm, sure.” 

Taehyung sighs, already knowing that you haven’t been fully convinced just yet. As a result, when the waves slowly push the water closer to you, he dips his feet into it for a split moment. He grins at the immediate result, cheekily glancing at you. 

You roll your eyes at his supposed accomplishment and he laughs, raising up his camera again to continue taking pictures of the scenery. The gesture seemingly spreads a genuine smile on your features, something you couldn’t have imagined he still had the ability to do. 

Your smile instantly drops and that sick feeling begins to swirl in the out of your stomach again. You get up with a deep breath, calling it a day and heading back to the cabin. 

Yet in the midst of your action, you don’t notice how Taehyung’s no longer capturing pictures of the rare waters. Instead, his camera remains on the ground, his gaze following your disappearing form. 

~

“I think you should just go for it.” His friend leans back in his chair, currently in the midst of eating through a take-out box. “Be honest with her.” 

Taehyung rolls his eyes, “Like that’s going to actually work.” He picks out a piece of Jungkook’s fried chicken and sighs. 

“I think Jungkook’s right, Tae.” Jimin plops down next to him, “You said it yourself, you felt like this was a chance to fix things, right?” 

Taehyung lets out another sigh. He did say that, but that thought only sparked within him once news broke that you would be joining them on this trip. Initially, he assumed that it would be a bad idea, that there would be too much friction between the two of you and it would cross the limit of being unbearable again. But he can’t help but think about running into you at the beach and how you clicked right back in, like nothing had ever been wrong between you. 

It’s made him consider a lot of things, one of which he wonders how he can outright declare that he’s still in love with you, how he thinks fate is on his side for once and telling him to set things right now before it’s too late. 

“Maybe you guys are right…” 

“Of course we are.” Jimin quips, cheekily smiling as Taehyung pouts. 

“I’ll at least apologize to her…” He urgently declares, already snatching up his grey hoodie and throwing it over his head. He quickly peers at the window outside, the sun having already set and a dark forecast slowly beginning to take over the sky. 

“Good luck Tae!” Jimin exclaims, watching him hurry out the door. 

After spending a majority of your first moments in bed twisting and turning with no luck of falling unconscious, you find yourself strolling along where the ocean water meets the dry sand. The cool breeze passing by gives off the salty scent of the ocean and the night sky makes the area’s unique appearance even more entrancing from broad daylight. 

Leaning down closer to the splashing waves, your eyes attach onto the way the bright algae glows within the waters, appearing like fireflies fluttering underground. You reach out to faintly touch a piece, observing the way the teal orb glows brightly within your hands before getting swept up by the currents once again. 

You smile, letting your hand splash around in the water. 

“Mind if I join you?” 

Your breath hitches and you nearly topple over into the giant seaway, but an arm quickly grabs onto you before you do. 

“S-Sorry.” Taehyung stutters, sheepishly staring down at the ground, “I didn’t mean to-” 

“It’s okay.” You simply say, having steadied yourself thanks to his help. You continue to play around with the water, a little unsure at what to say with his sudden appearance. 

He eventually speaks up, but it's with a suggestion that has your brows raising. “Do you want to go swimming?” 

“Now?” 

He nods, pointing over the dark waters, “I didn’t get a chance to swim this morning.” He gets up, swatting away remains of the grey sand from his shorts and reaches his hands out for you to take. 

You shake your head, “I really don’t want to.” 

“Aw come on!” A giant pout crosses his lips, voice raising up a pitch, “You’re still no fun!” 

Your mouth drops wide open, offense written all over your features. Gazing back at the water, you suppose it would be better than to swim during the hours of hot sunlight, so you opt out for getting up as well. 

“Okay.” You point an accusing finger at him, “But for your kind information, I am tons of fun.” 

Taehyung smiles at you like you’re going to have a hard time living up to that statement and that only fuels your need to prove him wrong. You’re dressed in a simple sundress and you suppose it should be enough to swim in, but by the time you turn around Taehyung’s already taken off his shirt and diving head straight into the waters. 

“I thought you couldn’t swim?!” You shout in disbelief, rushing to meet him halfway into the body of water. It’s cool temperature immediately spikes a trail of goosebumps down your arms and legs, but you bite back the shivers when your eyes come into contact with his smug expression. 

“Told you I could at least float.” He giggles as you come closer, huffing against the resistance that surrounds you waist down until you finally reach him. He points towards the pit of the sea once you do, drawing your attention to the sparkling algae that has begun to spiral around your feet. 

“Wow.” You whisper, eyes racing in pure awe as they begin to collect. Taehyung smiles, scooping up a handful while you’re occupied with gazing at the bright lights and left unsuspicious. Before you know it, he’s tossed them onto you and they stick to your wet strands of hair. 

“What the-?” As you attempt to get them out, Taehyung loudly laughs. “Can you stop laughing and help me??” 

“Sorry.” He still giggles once he reaches out and takes one out, “I thought they would look nice on you.” 

“I’m exactly not sure what part of luminous algae you thought would look nice on me.” You pout as he continues to pluck and unwind them from your hair, but then he grins. 

“I meant in a pretty way.” He takes out a piece that’s managed to get behind your ear, leaning forward. You suddenly blink, realizing he was inches away from you and that even though the water was icy cold, your temperature has only spiked up. 

“Y/N?” Taehyung questions, wondering why you’ve suddenly shriveled up as he flicks the last piece away. You peer up at his eyes and that’s when it hits him. 

The perfect opportunity. 

He opens his mouth, about to spew everything on his mind before he loses his chance. 

Lightning cracks. 

You and Taehyung immediately push away from each other, heartbeats racing at the sudden sizzle left in the sand far from you. Staring up at the sky in terror, the clouds begin to swarm together and that’s when Taehyung grabs onto you, shaking your form instantly. 

“We have to get out of here!” He yells, but another flash strikes through the sky and is followed by a series of bulleting raindrops. It doesn’t take you another moment to nod at his words, following through with getting back to land as far as possible. 

Taehyung lets go of you.

It happens so fast that you can barely register it, whipping around to see Taehyung miles apart from you. He shouts something across from the water, but by the time you pick up on what he’s trying to say to you, his entire body plunges right into the water. 

“TAEHYUNG!” You scream, fiercely pushing against the water to get to him. The rain falling from the sky obscures your vision, but you keep going until you reach the spot he was sucked away at, glancing back and forth for any sign of him. 

“TAEHYUNG!” You yell out again when you fail to locate him, diving straight into the deep waters. The salt stings at your eyes and your blood runs thin at the lightning above honing down on you, but you discover a familiar face buried by the depths of the ocean and you don’t think twice in grasping onto his arm.

Holding onto your escaping breath, you propel your legs back up higher and gasp once you make contact with the surface. Taehyung’s form limps against your body for a moment, but your grasp on him instantly loosens. 

“Wha-” You breath, blinking away your clouded vision. A rumble of thunder echoes through your ears, yet the rain starts to slow it’s rapid pace, falling down gently on top of you until it completely comes to a halt. Glancing up in confusion, the dark grey clouds start to drift away from each other and eventually, leave the night sky all together. 

You shake your head, ignoring the pulsing sensation pounding through in it and blink your eyes again to find Taehyung. It’s easy to spot him this time, but his leaning bareback faces you instead. 

“Taehyung!” You shout in relief, arms splashing closer to him. He raises up a hand, leaving the other left to cover his face. 

“Don’t!” 

You freeze mid-way, hands dropping down. 

“T-Taehyung?” 

Tilting your head, he doesn’t budge. Although the rain has stopped and the lightning isn’t buzzing above your head anymore, you have to hold onto your arms to stop them from shivering. You attempt once more to get closer to him, but the throbbing in your head rapidly increases and before you know it, you’re the one sinking into the water this time. 

You can barely hear Taehyung when he shouts for you, you can barely feel him grab onto your trembling form and pull you out of your water, you can barely register being in his arms, slowly losing consciousness bit by bit. 

Among all this, you can barely make out the shining blue tail that sticks out of the water as he desperately swims back to shore. 

It’s still pitch dark by the time you come to. 

Your eyes flutter open at the sound of the tides continuing to push against the shore, mind spinning from the fabricated recollection of events that went down. Your very first instinct is to harshly cough, bubbles of congested water forming up from the seam of your lips. 

A hand gently touches your back, warily patting it as all water makes it way out. You heavily breathe, shaking away any remains of drowsiness. 

“T-Thanks Taehyung.” You manage to get out, shifting in the sand to face him. His hand instantly comes over to shield your eyes, his voice wavering. 

“W-Wait.” He stutters, “Don’t-...Don’t freak out.” 

You frown at what he could have meant at that, but then his hand drops down and your eyes widen into large saucers. 

You open your mouth to scream.

“Y/N!” Taehyung pleads, sighing when you pause mid-way, fear filling your eyes by the minute. His lips set into a firm line, and he gazes at you with desperation. “Please, just…” He raises up his hands, “Just calm down.” 

“W-What?” You breathe heavily, “W-What happened to y-you?”

He stares down at the palms of his hands in dismay, “I-I don’t know…” 

You gulp, nodding. Truthfully it’s difficult to believe what you are seeing before your eyes. 

Because right in front of you is Taehyung, but not Taehyung at the same time. 

His blonde hair has been completely coloured into a deep sapphire shade, the ends of it longer and curling at the nape of his neck. His eyes are no longer the warm brown hue you’ve become so familiar with, but now a striking green that almost appears cat-like. Along his neck, arms and torso are small strange teal aligned pockets, all of which trail down to his waist which has the most notable change. 

A long aqua blue coloured fish tail has completely engulfed the portion his legs used to once take up. 

It’s almost overwhelming for you to completely register. He lappears so strikingly different that you wouldn’t have recognized him hadn’t it been for the familiarity of his tone or touch. 

“Taehyung…” You whisper, having finally accepted reality. He seems to notice that you’ve calmed down, relief etching onto his features. “H-How did this all happen?” 

“I’m not sure,” He sighs, “One second I’m trying to grab you and get out of the water before the lightning hits us and the next, I’m being pulled down into the bottom of the ocean.” 

“When I came back up...this is what I looked like.” He stares at his hands again, unable to properly understand what he was either. 

You nod, eyeing his tail again, “You used that to swim…?” 

He hums and moves it for a second, causing you to flinch. There’s specks of gray sand starting to stick to it, presumably from him having to use it on land, “Surprisingly it helped me get back faster.” 

“I see…” You get up, dusting the sand off of yourself. You step closer to him, examining it further. 

“Don’t stare at it like that.” 

Your eyes widen, “Why?” You reach out to touch the new limb and he instantly flinches, moving it away from you. 

“Because it’s weird!” He flaps it around in the sand for a while, “I don’t even know how to properly use it, for all I know I could just-” 

He’s too late in explaining because the motion he’s used has managed to slap you across the face with the tail. 

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t-” This time it hits your legs and you fall down onto the sand, resulting in Taehyung becoming even more apologetic. 

“Okay, okay! Just stop moving for a second!” You protest, raising up your hands against it. Taehyung freezes the tail in mid-air, staring at you like he was on command and awaiting further directions. 

“I think we should focus on how to get you out of here.” You pinch the bridge of your nose, squeezing your eyes shut, “The others will be awake in the morning and I think trying to explain that you’re part fish is going to be a lot harder than it is.” 

“How do we do that?” Taehyung desperately asks, peering up at you from his spot in the sand. A thought sparks inside your mind, but you stare at him in dismay. 

“I have an idea...but I don’t think either of us are going to like it.” 

~

“I’m surprised Y/N.” Taehyung proclaims, “This is really romantic.” 

You can barely make out a clear answer, huffing and wheezing at the same time. Leaning against the wall, you attempt to catch your breath. 

“Hm? Y/N? Can you hear me?” Taehyung tilts his head and leans closer to you, but you jerk your head up and scoff at him. 

“Give me a minute, will you?! You’re not exactly a box of feathers!” 

“Well that was kind of harsh.” Taehyung pouts, reclining onto you and resting his head against your shoulder. You tighten your hold on him, careful not to let go of his new slippery side that’s been a pain in your rear for the past fifteen minutes. 

“I will leave you here and then you’ll have to flap your way back to your own room, you fish!” 

Taehyung gasps like you’ve just sworn at him but then you purposely loosen your grip on his tail and he instantly freaks out, “Alright! Just get me back in one piece!” 

“I’m trying.” You huff again, taking another step on the enormous spiraling staircase. You didn’t realize him and the guys wanted the top floor of this place so badly, and unfortunately it’s a decision you’ll have to pay the consequences for now. 

After an exhausting trip of losing your footing a billion times and having to repeatedly catch your breath, you make it to Taehyung and Jimin’s shared room. Fortunately, Jimin’s completely passed out by the time you do make it up there and you attempt to keep that way, watching your step as much as you can. 

Unfortunately, the man currently whispering in your ear is not helping much. 

“I can’t sleep here! What if Jimin wakes up in the morning and discovers my tail?!” 

“It’s better than taking you to my room that has three people staying in it!” You harshly whisper back, plopping him down onto his bed. Though you forgot how stubborn Taehyung can be, especially when he refuses to separate from you and as a result, drags you on top of him. 

“Ow!” You scold him, glaring down at the huge smirk he holds. The position you’re in doesn’t help the situation much either and you attempt to get yourself off considering the fact that you’re sitting on top of his scaly tail.

However, that’s when Taehyung’s bright green eyes narrow and for a second, you suck in your breath. You know he looks considerably different now, but you haven’t been able to pinpoint why he almost feels like a different person at moments, especially when he stares at you. 

There’s something incredibly alluring about him, something you haven’t figured out until you realize you’re leaning closer to him and hovering right above his lips. You snap out of it right away and by the looks of it, so does Taehyung. 

With a quick goodbye and a rough toss of a blanket over his head to cover up his strange appearance, you rush out of his room and shut the door. Spinning around, a hand presses against your racing heartbeat and you swipe away the sweat that has built against your temples. 

“You really expect me to wear that?” 

He points to the lengthy black skirt you’ve managed to rummage out of your suitcase, a floral design lining the edges. He’s seated on the side of his bed, already dressed in a long-sleeved white shirt that covers the imprints in his skin. 

You hum, “How else are we going to cover that?” 

You gestures towards the large blueish-green tail that sits on the ground, spread out and already taking up a large majority of the floor beneath his bed. 

Taehyung deeply sighs, letting out a groan before reaching out his hands in dismay. “Fine.” 

You smile once he takes it, attempting to balance himself enough to put it on. You immediately reach out and let him steady himself using your shoulders, helping him tug it on. 

“How come I got a fishtail and you didn’t?” He whines, growing frustrated with the utterly useless tail to have on land. You stifle back a laugh and he glares at you. “You’re enjoying this way too much.” 

“I’m not.” You truthfully admit, aiding him in tying the two connecting strands of the skirt. “I just didn’t think I’d see the day where you’d be wearing one of my skirts.” 

“It beats being half-naked.” Taehyung retorts, glancing down at his tail, “Even though the naked part doesn’t even look human.” 

You sigh and roll your eyes, close enough to helping him finish dressing. A low knock captures your attention and you freeze, whipping around at the door. 

“I-Is someone-” You’re too late, because not a moment is spared as the door comes barging open. You catch a faint hint of orange tucked away in a white hoodie and you step in front of Taehyng right away, unease crossing your features. 

Jimin pokes his head in, “Hey, I-” Your voice dies out when Eunha and Sunyi step in behind him, closely followed by Jungkook and Hoseok. 

“Oh.” Eunha says, staring at you and Taehyung. To be quite honest, the situation itself does seem strange - you’re standing in front of Taehyung and covering him up as he struggles to tug on one of your skirts in your room. 

You have no clue how to explain any of this. 

“Y/N?” Sunyi peers at you from behind Eunha, confusion maring her as well. You anxiously smile, quickly whipping up a flimsy excuse. 

“I-I was just helping him! You know, w-with finding some clothes because...uh….he lost his suitcase!” 

Eunha nods and you let out a low sigh. Taehyung emerges from behind you, a questioning stare in his eyes. 

“What brings all of you here?” 

“Woah.” Jungkook exclaims, “What happened to you??”

“What do you mean?” Taehyung questions, clearly having forgotten the striking colour his hair is and the shifted hue of his eyes. 

“U-Uh he’s been trying out a new hair colour! And has contacts!” You throw a glance at Taehyung with a nervous laugh and he turns into stone, finally realizing the error in his appearance. 

“Okay…” Eunha mutters, warily staring at Taehyung. Hoseok clears his voice, answering the former’s question. 

“We were going to head over to the beach again.” He points towards the window, “You guys down to swim?” 

You and Taehyung exchange a glance and for a moment, you could have swore you saw him visibly gulp. 

“I-I think we’ll pass guys…but thanks for the offer!” 

“You sure?” Eunha steps forward, concern on her. “Y/N, is everything okay?” 

You bite back the truth, “Yeah! I’m going to just stay back with Taehyung, so I’ll be fine.” 

“Really?” Sunyi asks, peering at said man. Something twinkles in her eyes and she places a hand on Eunha’s shoulder, bringing her away. 

“We should listen to Y/N, Eunha.” She appears baffled with Sunyi actions at first, but then the latter winks and she lets out a soft “Oh..” 

Eunha shrugs with a smile, “I guess we’ll leave you to it then.” 

You nod and one by one they exit the room. Once the coast is clear, you let out an audible sigh, pressing a hand against your chest. 

“That was close.” You turn to Taehyung, “We need to be careful.” 

He’s sitting on the bed now, arms crossed and a huge pout on his lips. 

He looks like a child that's sulking. 

“What?” 

“I miss my legs.” He moves his tail for a moment before letting it flop back down onto the ground. 

You sigh, growing weary already, “Let’s just see if there’s something we can do here.” 

Rummaging around the area, you seek to find anything that you can occupy yourself with for the next couple of hours. Although you had declined the offer of joining your friends for the sake of Taehyung’s situation, a part of you is growing increasingly dismayed with the fact that you have to do this in the first place. 

You were supposed to be on vacation - but now you’re stuck with the person you didn’t want to be with and have no hope of being able to relax. 

“I hate this.” Taehyung states from behind you, somehow being able to communicate your collective thoughts with only three words. You let out another sigh, revealing a stack of cards you found near Jimin’s suitcase. 

Taehyung’s still in the same state, brows furrowed and bottom lip jutting out. 

“I can’t promise it’ll get better but at least we made it back in one piece.” You offer, throwing the card stack onto his bed and flopping down beside him. “Now play a game with me before my mind explodes from boredom.” 

That luckily seems to bring a smile out from him and you begin to shuffle the cards, but then a slimy texture touches your legs and you immediately back away. 

“Can you put that somewhere else?” You gesture to his tail that brushes against you, but Taehyung innocently shrugs and grins. 

“It’s attached to me, there’s nothing I can do about that.” 

The more he smiles, the more you glare at him, “Fine, but maintain some distance at least, fish.”

He scoffs at the sound of the nickname you’ve adopted for his situation, but thankfully obliges so that it’s not all over the place. 

~

After having countless card game sessions with Taehyung (to which he won most of and you had to endure a plethora of his cheeky smirks as a result), the rest of your friends finally make it back. You’re pleasantly surprised to find out that Eunha and Sunyi took the liberty of bringing food as well, since you were worried that if you left to go eat something Taehyung would find some way to slip out of his bed and bounce around on the ground from his lack of being mobile-

That wasn’t supposed to be a pun. 

“We brought sushi.” Sunyi says, setting the trays down on the picnic table at the terrace of the cabin. It’s a nice place to dine together, small fairy lights brightening up the high roof and clearing out the now darkening sky. 

“I hope that’s okay.” Eunha hesitates, but you shake your head. You weren’t truly a huge fan of the dish since it was essentially rice wrapped up in vegetables and meat, but at this point you’re so utterly famished that you can’t bring yourself to care. Reaching over to grab the remaining bags, Hoseok and Jungkook come over to help you and you’re soon having dinner underneath the lights. 

However, that’s when Jimin pops up. 

“Hey guys, has anyone seen Tae?” He twists around, “He wasn’t in our room when I left.” 

“I think I saw him sitting down at the reception.” Jungkook mentions, “I thought he was going to come soon.” 

“Oh.” Jimin says, pursuing his lips. You raise an eyebrow at the information, already rising from your seat. 

“You guys keep eating. I’ll go see if I can find him.” 

“Do you need any help?” Eunha questions, but you shake your head. 

“Don’t worry, it won’t take long.”

Eunha nods and sits back down into her seat as you scurry off. You quickly climb down the stairs from the terrace, heading into the reception hall. 

Peering back and forth, it’s entirely empty. The appearance throws you off and for a moment, you assume it would be best to turn around and search elsewhere - but that’s when you hear a low groan. 

You swivel around, opening the door to a nearby room. 

Your eyes land on Taehyung right away. 

He’s on the ground, appearing to be struggling with lifting himself up from the edge of a table that he has a threatening tight grip on. At the sound of the door abruptly opening, he looks up, eyes widening. 

You rush over in an instant, holding onto his arm and helping him up. Guilt overtakes your features when you realize that you had completely forgotten about him up until this point, but Taehyung fortunately seems to notice your remorse. 

“Hey, don’t look so upset. I was actually doing fine until I accidentally got pushed into this room by some couple walking by, so it was kind of my fault for getting stuck.” He casually explains, but you freeze in your tracks and stare at him. 

“Your fault…?” 

“Yeah?” He stares at you, not really understanding why you look so concerned. You shake your head, focusing on getting him out right now instead. 

Making your way back to the terrace, Taehyung halts you in your steps. “Wait, how am I supposed to..?” 

He gestures to how you’re basically carrying him like a dead body, his whole weight limping onto you and the amphibian parts of him lazily dragging against the ground. His point does stand to reason and you suppose you didn’t really think this through before coming to aid him. 

Your eyes narrow onto his hands, an idea suddenly popping into your mind. 

“Should we just hold hands then?”

His brows raise, like he hadn’t been expecting you to offer that out of all things. When his speechlessness takes too long, you reach out and grab hold of him right away. He nearly slips and tightens his grip on your arm, leaning half of his weight onto you. 

“N-no one’s going to get the wrong idea, right?” Taehyung quietly laughs, but you’re more focused on the way that this position puts a lot more pressure on you. So you merely nod in response, trying your hardest not to collapse against having to hold onto him like this. 

Unfortunately, you forget the crucial fact that you’re walking into a room full of people aware of the history between the two of you. It draws out an array of spiked brows and agape mouths, but you nonchalantly help him sit and flop down next to him, nearly sinking from the sheer relief of not having your shoulder and arm be broken off. 

You eventually engage in conversation with Eunha and Sunyi, who persistently keep eyeing the man sitting next to you occasionally in between. You wonder if you should clarify to them the actual situation that’s been going on, but you think you’ve spoken too soon when a scream from behind you spikes up the hair on your body. 

Whipping around, Taehyung has his hands on either side of his face and he glances at the food in front of him in hysteria. 

You grab onto his shoulder instantly, “Taehyung, what’s wrong?” 

“H-HOW COULD IT BE?!” He picks up a roll of sushi, eyeing it in horror, “HOW COULD THEY DO SUCH A THING?!?!” 

“What are you talking about??” 

“THIS!” He gestures to the entire table, scrambling away from it and you at the same time, “They’ve cut them up into tiny pieces and wrapped them up in rice?! It’s horrible!!” 

You’re prepared to ask a million questions about his absurd reaction, but then you catch a glimpse of what exactly he’s referring to and suddenly, everything begins to make sense. 

The sushi has seafood in it. 

Taehyung looks like he’s on the verge of crying, fear filling him at the prospect of just sitting at the table. 

“H-How could they…YOU WERE A FAMILY OF FIVE! Now you’re here and your brother is too! How could they put you two beside each other when one of you has been fried?!?” 

You wince as he whispers towards one certain dish, not really distinguishing between the pieces so easily until he mentions it. However, that’s when you catch a glimpse of the entire table, the faces of your close friends informing you that you weren’t really doing such a great job at keeping his situation under wraps. 

Quickly reaching out, you begin to collect the seafood contained ones. You then turn around and hand them over to a confused Eunha, asking her to take them away because of Taehyung. Although you get many questions thrown at you from the reason and why Taehyung was acting up so much, you simply state that it was a result of a really bad allergy and that the food needed to go. 

More like I’ve-turned-into-a-fish-and-now-seeing-them-as-food-is-sad allergy, but you decide to keep your mouth shut about that personal opinion. 

Thankfully, Eunha reacts faster to your request that you had expected and all the seafood filled sushi is long discarded of. You then focus your efforts on trying to calm down Taehyung, who seems to respond to your eventual suggestion of seeing alive fish later at the shore to calm himself down. 

Taking a deep sigh, you slump down in your seat. It was getting harder and harder to manage this and you were beginning to wonder if there was even a way out of it, because so far the situation has just remained hopeless in front of both of your eyes. 

“Great to see you’re all having fun out here.” 

You turn towards the entrance of the terrace to see a middle-aged man in a tourist shirt and shorts, a pair of sunglasses resting on the bridge of his nose. He warmly smiles, standing at the front of your table. 

He introduces himself, “My name is Minho and I run this place. I thought I’d drop by to see how you’re all liking it so far.” 

Taking turns introducing your group members, Jungkook offers for him to settle down next to him at the table and the man cheerily obliges, darting questions back and forth about your stay. He’s surprised to hear that you weren’t originally planning on coming, instead derailed by your foiled vacation plans. 

“Yeah, we thought it was pretty weird looking at first but then we took a closer look and it turned out to be nice.” Hoseok explains, laughing a bit, “Honestly it seems better then where we were originally supposed to go.” 

“It’s a special place.” The man remarks tenderly, eyes crinkling, “Beautiful, but full of mysteries and wonder.” 

“Mysteries and wonder?” Jimin repeats and Minho hums. 

“Have you folks heard about the legend?” You shake your head and he looks genuinely surprised, as if the information should have been prior knowledge. “Well, let me tell you that you haven’t even begun to understand where you are just yet then.” 

“Many years ago, this place was inhabited by a couple.” Minho speaks in a low storytelling tone, “The man and woman loved each other very much, and were hoping to spend the rest of their lives by the sea together.” 

“However, one day the man left to go fishing and never came back. The woman was left all alone and in worry, prayed every night for his safe return.” 

“Ultimately the man never returned and his body was later discovered in the sea. It was presumed he had drowned and the women fell into a deep sorrow, feeling betrayed and abandoned by the one person who said he would never leave her.” 

“The moon heard her call and was vexed by her desperate pleas of his return, so it cursed her to roam the corners of the very place he drowned in - the sea.” 

The entire table is dead silent and Minho drops the one fact that has your eyes widening. 

“They call it, the legend of the mermaid.” Minho turns, pointing to the intriguing appearance of the sea, “That’s why the water is darker and the sand has turned grey, because it’s believed her anguish still remains deep within the ocean.” 

You and Taehyung make eye contact in an instant and Jimin tugs at the man’s sleeve. 

“D-Does that mean this place is cursed?” 

The man chuckles, “Of course not! It’s just a legend! Didn’t you hear me say that before I told you the story?!” 

“It’s an interesting legend, I didn’t know this beach could be so meaningful.” Eunha remarks and Minho smiles at her. 

“Ah, see! She gets it!” 

Eunha returns his smile and Minho continues to reassure Jimin, who still seems startled with the new information. Meanwhile, you gaze at Taehyung, wondering to yourself how much of that story was truly a mere legend. 

“I swear, you only care about yourself!” You spit out, “If you didn’t want to live together then why did you say yes??” 

“Because you wanted it!” He shouts back, “I wanted you to be happy! I’ve always wanted you to be happy!” His once warm irises are dripping with spite, “But as of recently, living with you has turned into an actual nightmare.”

There’s a tense, held silence looming in the air. You’re in a similar state as him, the exhaustion keeping a dreadful grip on your bones. 

“How else am I supposed to talk to you then?” There’s hoarseness in your voice, soft before it spikes up, “You never tell me anything and act like everything is okay all the time! I can’t know if you don’t talk to me, Tae!” 

He shakes his head, appearing defeated. You’re expecting something, some hidden spark of hope that you can manage to work this out. But that immediately shatters once he reaches for his bag. 

A deep exhale leaves his lips, like he’s grown tired for too long. 

“I can’t take this anymore, Y/N.” 

“W-What?” You watch him grab his shoes, placing them onto the ground to slip his feet into, “So that’s it, huh? You’re not going to try to fix things with me and instead just run away?” 

“No, I’m not.” He glances up at you, a seething glare in his eyes that takes you aback, “I’m going to break up with you before I do.” 

You can only stare as he grabs his jacket on his way out, the door harshly slamming behind him. Water unconsciously begins to well up in your eyes and you slump down onto your knees, left completely alone in the room. 

“Taehyung?” 

“H-Huh?” He blinks, body unconsciously rolling over to you. You’re tucked in your bed, leaning down to see sleeping on the make-shift bed you’ve made on the ground for him after he had called you and complained he wasn’t able to properly sleep. 

“You were mumbling in your sleep.” A low yawn passes by your lips and you rub your eye, “Are you comfortable down there?” 

“Kind of. It’s been difficult sleeping like this.” He shuffles around a bit. 

“I’m sure it’s not too bad if you try sleeping on your side.” You lie down, facing him, “Just let me know if you need an extra blanket or two.”

“It’s not that....” He mumbles, letting out a sigh. 

You raise an eyebrow, “Then what is it?” 

“This.” He admits, turning to look at you. The moment dips into a steady silence and you uncomfortably shift, wondering why he was simply just staring at you. 

“I don’t get it.” 

“This.” He points to his eyes, “I don’t have eyelids anymore.”

“What?” You jump out of bed, shifting closer to him, “How do you not have-” 

Your eyes land right above his foreign green orbs and sure enough, the skin has become transparent. “I can’t close my eyes when I sleep anymore, so I just stare at the ceiling until I pass out.” 

“Wow that’s….” You have no clue what to say to that.

“It’s okay, go back to sleep.” Taehyung whispers, “I’ll have to wait until I can fall asleep again.” 

“Alright…” You bring your blanket backup to cover yourself, but occasionally your eyes drift over to Taehyung. It’s a little unnerving to find out he doesn’t have eyelids anymore and is practically a fish at this point, but you decide to let the thought slip away when you begin to ponder on more recent events. 

Namely, the legend. Although Minho had told your group as a way to draw out more meaning from the place you were at, you wonder if there was some way to figure out how to get Taehyung’s human appearance back from it, such as a gap in the story. But the most you can come with at the moment is simply retrieving the man’s body back for the mermaid to realize she wasn’t abandoned, but you have no clue how that’s going to help Taehyung. 

Maybe throwing him into the sea again and waiting around for a thunderstorm to take place would be more effective…

Your absurd thoughts are caught off guard at the sound of a low cough, “If you’re really having a hard time sleeping, I can just take you back to your room, you know?” 

He doesn’t answer you and you contort your brows, rolling over in bed, “Taehyung?” 

The very first thing your eyes land on is how he’s crouched down, lifting himself up on his shaking arms. You immediately throw your covers off and slide down, grabbing onto him. “Taehyung!” 

A chain of rough coughs greet you again and your eyes flicker when he begins to harshly gasp. Searching around, you notice that his usual crystal blue tail has dissolved into the shade of lime green and how the small openings on his ribs have begun to rapidly open and close. 

Your eyes widen and you catch a glimpse of the window for a moment, eyes surveying the ocean. Quicking grabbing a hold of Taehyung’s arm, you loop it over your neck and tug him up with a grunt, letting him rest his weight on you. 

“Hold on Taehyung.” You hastily get out of your room, heading out the hallway. The spiral of staircases tests your patience greatly on the way down, but when Taehyung’s head lolls to the side and he becomes completely unresponsive, you don’t give it a second thought. 

The moment your feet meet the grey sand again, you attempt to accelerate your speed. The extra dead weight doesn’t help in that matter, but nonetheless you rush towards the water and hold your breath. 

The icy temperature immediately spreads over your skin, drenching your cozy pajamas in an instant. You hurriedly poke your head out to the shore and look down towards the water, feeling Taehyung's limp hand sink down and slip away from your grasp. 

He lets out a loud exhale moments later, panting once he’s able to meet the shore as well. He glances in your direction, a look of surprise and relief flooding him immediately. 

“H-How did you know...?” 

You softly smile, “I assumed staying on land for too long doesn’t help much with your situation.” 

“Thanks.” He deeply breathes with a grin, pushing back his sapphire hair. You whirl around, about to head back before it gets too cold until you feel a jerk on your wrist. 

“Wait.” 

You turn to face him, “What?” 

“I-I don’t want to be alone here.” He whispers, quiet enough for you to barely hear it, “It’s scary.” 

Your lips form into a pout, thinking he was being absurd for a moment. However, your eyes begin to roam around, taking in how it’s pitch black outside, making the water appear more like ink by the minute. Save for the light sounds of the tides, it’s also dead silent. 

“Fine - but I can’t stay in the water for long, it’s freezing.” You honestly reply, your shoulders already starting to tremble. Taehyung nods in agreement, swimming over to you in an instant. You don’t expect him to encase his arms around you right away, pulling you flush against him. 

“Hold your breath.” He reminds you and you timidly nod, hoping he doesn’t notice the way your complexion has tinted rose. Luckily he doesn’t when he dives into the water, swimming at a speed that you barely get up to alone with your legs. Your eyes watch in fascination as his long tail moves in unison with his body, lighting up the dark ocean with it’s bright blue hue. 

Taehyung ends up taking you to a landscape of rocks near the shore, a place you wouldn’t have else found if you tried swimming there all by yourself. He hastily gets you out of the waters, letting you inhale as much air as possible just like you had done with him in the sea, before he remains at the edge of rocks and watches you settle into the small opening.

The temperature has subsided and is a lot better than the waters below you, but Taehyung seems to be at ease right in the centre of it. In comparison to before, now you can get a broad view of the ocean and all the little ripples that pass by the dark tides, the moon illuminating each and every wave with a pearly hue. 

“Ah-choo!” You sniffle, covering your mouth. Taehyung spins around, eyes widening. 

“Are you cold?” He immediately asks, but you shake your head. 

“I’m alrig-AH-CHOO!” 

Taehyung grins, “Doesn’t sound like it.” He latches onto the edge and lifts himself up, half of his blue tail still remaining in the water. Taking the bottom of his shirt, he tugs it over his head and places the soaked material onto the side, facing you. 

“W-What are you doing?” You immediately ask, but he glances at you in confusion. 

“What? I’m a lot warmer when I’m not wearing wet clothes.” He extends his arm and gently pushes you closer to him, “Now come over here, will you?” 

You pout but eventually oblige when a third sneeze leaves your body. It’s a little strange to be snuggling up to him like this after so long, but old habits eventually sink in once Taehyung places his hand firmly against your waist and your rest your head against his shoulder. 

You watch the tides hit against each other, roaring louder as the wind around begins to pick up. Unconsciously you loop your arms around Taehyung, not noticing the small smile that tugs on his features as you do. 

Eyes drifting over to the radiant moon, a question sits at the tip of your tongue. “What did you think about the legend Minho told us? The one about the cursed mermaid?” 

“I thought it was sad.” Taehyung confesses, “Instead of trying to help the mermaid with her grief, the moon made her suffer for the rest of her life.” 

You hum, “She never got to see the man again and ended up stuck in the place that took his life.” A cascade of shivers runs down your body, “I wonder if the legend could help us get you back to normal.” 

“I highly doubt it.” Taehyung stiffly chuckles, “Maybe after this vacation is over, I’ll spend the rest of my life in the ocean too.” 

“Please don’t.” You whisper, not wanting him to live out the same unfortunate fate, “The woman was cursed because the man’s death left her all alone. I don’t want you to feel the same.” 

Although you can’t see it, a soft smile casts itself onto Taehyung’s lips. It remains even as your lids begin to droop down, your head occasionally tilting to the side. When it completely lolls over, Taehyung separates from you, gently placing you against a smooth patch of rock that you instinctively curl up on at contact. 

He lowers himself into the waters, shoulders poking out as he glances up at the bright moon shining down on you. Pivoting around, he watches you completely get lulled into sleep by the comfortable sounds of the ocean ripples, a fond gaze running deep in his sea green eyes. 

Months later after breaking up with you, Taehyung returns back to the apartment the two of you once upon a time shared. There’s a clutter of open suitcases and things covered in bubble wrap, presumably you’re doing after you declared to him that you’ll be moving out soon and that he should begin packing his own things as well. 

It’s strange for him to enter an apartment that has countless memories woven into it, from the way he was so used to sharing his time, his room and even his bed with you. Now the apartment falls short of all of that, remains of what could have been left behind when he opens the door into the bedroom. 

Your things are all gone. Long removed and tided away. It’s just his own belongings that remain within the four walls anymore, seemingly the only thing left occupying the room. 

He’s all alone now, abandoned underneath the moonlight that peeks through the once joint window. 

~

You wake up the next morning to see Taehyung peering at the rising sun, a deep crease in between his brows. It takes you waving your hand erractively to draw his attention away, his eyes beaming up at your sudden awakening. After asking you if you were okay to go into the waters in pajamas again, you loop your arms around his neck and hold on for dear life once his head dips into the ocean, swimming back to shore at a racing speed. 

Meeting up with the rest of your friends, Eunha and Sunyi take the liberty of persuading you into swimming with them, not adamant about you refusing after last time. With one concerned look at Taehyung, the latter smiles and tells you to carry on after finding a giant blanket and spot in the grey sand to keep himself covered. 

However once you’re in the water, you can already see him sulking from a mile away. 

“Why don’t you come in?” You ask, swimming over to where he’s seated. The pout on his lips only grows more from your request, dejectedly shaking his head. 

“You know that’s only going to cause a lot more problems if I do.” 

“Then maybe we can come back during the night.” His eyes light up and you smile, “No one will be able to see you then, right?” 

He nods with a grin, “Okay.” 

You stay for a moment until Eunha calls out for you, sending a small bye in Taehyung’s direction. He tells you to have fun on his behalf and you happily oblige, racing over to your friends. Hoseok ends up bringing out a beach ball he stored in his car, tossing it over in your direction. 

You grasp onto it, raising it up high before launching it Sunyi’s way. She passes over to Eunha who then hands it over to Jungkook, before throwing it to Hoseok. 

Unfortunately, he barely hits it and it lands far behind him. 

“I’ll get it!” You instantly volunteer, hurriedly splashing against the water. In the midst of retrieving it, you notice Taehyung gazing in your direction and wave back at him, a soft smile on your lips. 

That’s when the throbbing begins. 

It starts off as a small pulse, but a sudden sharp ache shoots up your right leg and it completely stiffens. You gasp as the feeling intensifies, akin to someone wrapping their hands around your leg and twisting it as harshly as they can. 

Your hands slip off from Hoseok’s beach ball and before you even know it, you’re sinking straight down into the pit of the ocean. 

Water fills your lungs at an alarming amount and you attempt to kick away at the water, but it only results in a cascade of agonizing pain to run through your leg. You feel yourself slipping away bit by bit, barely any sunlight reaching you as the ocean continues to swallow you whole. 

A hand grabs onto yours right away. 

You squint against the cold waters to see a blue tail swimming closer to you, a shade of bright sapphire emerging and hurriedly lifting you up. Once you meet sea level, you wheeze and gasp, coughing out all the water that luckily bubbles out of your system. 

Taehyung keeps an arm against your back as you do, but your eyes grow alarmingly wide once your vision clears up. 

“T-Taehyung?” You promptly question, eyes flickering over him in concern, “You’re in the water, if anyone sees-” 

“I don’t care if they see me.” He interjects, “Are you okay?” 

You nod and his shoulders sag in relief. 

“Thank god.” He breathes, hugging you close to him. You’re a bit taken aback from how he tightly grasps onto you, as if letting go was the last thing on his mind. 

“Taehyung….” You whisper, slightly breaking away to look up at him. You keep forgetting how alluring his appearance has become, his sea green eyes and sapphire hair never failing to captivate you every single time. 

He sadly smiles, fear-filled eyes boring into yours, “I didn’t want to lose you a second time.” 

Your vision unconsciously glosses over and before you know it, you’re looping your arms around his neck and roughly pressing your lips against his. He seems stunned by the sudden motion, but immediately reciprocates as you begin to move your lips. 

It’s not somber, like how it was saying goodbye for the last time. It’s neither bittersweet, like how it was dumping precious memories into a suitcase and leaving the place you once tenderly remarked was your home. It’s instead reciprocal, like how it felt when you first fell in love with him. 

You part from him and he flutters his eyes open, as if still trapped in a daze. But once you pass along a genuine gaze in his direction, his rambles begin. 

“I-I’m still in love with you. Ever since we broke up. I’d never thought I would get the chance to see you again but then you showed up on this trip and I-” You lean forward to kiss him again, catching him off guard for the second time. 

“You’re not the only one who’s still holding onto feelings.” You smile and he returns it, “I’m sorry for what happened between us, I think I just got too invested in trying to live together that I didn’t realize how big of a step that was and ended up rushing you without thinking.”

“I’m sorry too.” Taehyung professes, guilt weighing down deep in his green orbs, “I used to always hate when we fought so I never took it seriously, but I didn’t realize how much that hurt you in the process. I should have just been honest with you and told you I wasn’t ready.” 

You share a mutual look with each other, something you don’t think you could have ever done when you were together. Taehyung hovers over your lips again and you flutter your eyes shut, but he freezes mid-way. 

“Taehyung?” You ponder, but his hand instantly reaches out from the water to cover your eyes. You catch a glimpse of blonde hair and suddenly you’re taken back to the night the two of you got caught up in a storm. 

“A-Are you-?” 

“Don’t.” 

His hand leaves your face, falling down to your shoulder. You slowly open your eyes, peeking out to see his sapphire hair and green eyes replaced with his familiar blonde shade and warm brown eyes. The corners of your lips curl in astonishment, but before you can say anything, Taehyung spins you around. 

His grip tightens on your shoulders, “The others will be here soon to find you, but don’t look down and get me some clothes asap.” 

Frowning at his instructions, your eyes suddenly light up and you’re swimming away, “Right!” 

As you leave, Taehyung sinks back into the water with an exasperated sigh. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Eunha asks, her hands resting against her hips. Sunyi sits on a chair next to her, munching down on a bag of chips in her lap that she had managed to steal from Hoseok. 

Pausing your packing for a minute, you swivel around with a sigh, “I’m okay Eunha, it was just a cramp. Taehyung managed to save me before I drowned so I’m alright now.”

“Oh yeah! You guys are together now, right?” Sunyi exclaims, resulting in a small smile to stretch on your lips. Eunha’s eyes widen and she places a hand on your shoulder. 

“Really? Are you serious?” 

You nod, “We made up during our time here. I guess this vacation was all we needed to resolve our old problems.” 

“Oh my gosh, this is amazing!” Sunyi smooshes the two of you into a hug, “I think this is the first time all of us will be in a relationship!” 

Your brows furrow and you drop the shirt you were folding, “All of us?”

Your gaze automatically meets Eunha and she suddenly grows bashful, pushing back a lock of her hair, “Ah, well you see....” 

“You and Jungkook finally got together?” A smirk crosses your lips and Eunha’s mouth falls agape, gaze falling to the ground. 

“W-Was it that obvious?” 

“Huh?” Eunha looks up to see Sunyi counting and passing you a couple of coins like it was the most normalest thing ever. 

“What? Seriously?!” A scoff leaves her lips, “You guys betted on whether me and Jungkook were going to be together?!?” 

“Hey, it was a fair deal.” You point out, grinning at Sunyi, “Which I definitely won.” 

Sunyi rolls her eyes, counting out the rest of your coins. A low knock draws you out of your thoughts, raising your head to see Taehyung leaning against the doorframe with a smug smile on his face. 

“All packed?” He asks and you nod, planting your suitcase onto the ground before scurrying over to him. 

“Just need to dry out our towels and find Hoseok’s shoes, but otherwise yeah.” 

“If that’s the case then….” He peers into your room, reaching out his hand for you, “Do you guys mind if I steal her for a while?” 

“By all means.” Sunyi says, both her and Eunha sending you sly smiles. You pout in response, but let Taehyung lead you away. 

He brings you outside near the shore, now easily able to walk along the grey sand with his bare feet. However, that doesn’t seem like the destination he has in mind as he brings you closer to the edge, near a rocky shore you recall snoozing for hours along. 

“You want to go back?” You ask in surprise, letting him reach out for you once he jumps down from a high leveled rock. He catches you as you jump, humming. 

“Even though we went there in the middle of the night, I want to go back one last time.” He pauses, turning around and smirking at you, “You know, without a tail and all.” 

You giggle, “But I thought it suited you.” 

Taehyung raises a brow, appearing offended, “Really? Last I recall, I was being called a fish left and right.” 

“You didn’t have eyelids.” You protest, but then Taehyung draws uncomfortably close to your head and blinks rapidly. 

“What are these then, huh?” He very obviously points to his now present lids and you laugh, pushing him off from you. 

“Okay, okay! You have eyelids now!” You clap your hands together, “What a miracle!” 

He shakes his head with a smile, carefully leading you to the spot he found that night. You peer around, noticing how the sunlight forecasted onto the shore in a way that brightened it even more compared to the moon. 

“It’s breathtaking.” You whisper, swiveling to look at where the shore meets the ocean. 

“It is.” Taehyung remarks, “I think I’m going to truly miss being part fish.” 

You lean closer to him, “Well, if you’re really going to miss it that much...I could toss you into the ocean right now and pray for a storm to take you away.” 

Taehyung places a hand on his chest, pretending to be teary-eyed, “You would really do that for me?” 

You snort, “Of course.”

Kneeling down, you dip your hands into the icy waters for one last time. Taehyung joins you, playing around harmlessly and then somehow accidentally splashing you with some of it. 

You scoff as he laughs, but you soon get your revenge in the midst of his laughter, to which he mumbles that he probably deserved that. You chuckle and he smiles, shaking the water droplets out of his hands before helping you up as well. 

“We should get going.” You remind him, “The others are probably waiting for us.” 

Taehyung hums, but it’s not long before he freezes and his content expression completely falters. 

A shaky hand is placed on your arm, drawing out your oblivious attention. 

Taehyung points to the ocean, where a pair of two green eyes are staring back at the two of you. 

Your eyes widen and you stagger back, nearly bumping into him if he hadn’t immediately caught you. The green eyes catch the movement, drawing closer to you. From afar, the long strands of sapphire hair flowing in the water and the blue tail shimmering within the ocean gives you a slight glimpse of exactly what you’re dealing with, but it seems like an afterthought once both you and Taehyung scream in unison. 

“That’s it! I’ve had enough of this place!” Taehyung shouts, racing away to get back to the steep rocks that lead back to the cabin. The green eyes continue to watch as you scurry after him immediately.

“Don’t leave me behind!!” You plead, following after him as quickly as you can. Along the way you managed to slip on a slippery rock, resulting in Taehyung lifting you onto his back so you can get away faster together. 

From a distance away, the girl with the green eyes submerged in the ocean chuckles. 

[scoopsgf]

for a prompt peter meets the rouge avengers and they witness irondad at it's finest

It’s half past two in the morning when Peter’s ears perk at the sound of an old-fashioned, peppy ringtone.

He looks around in search of it. There’s Tony passed out at his workbench, face dangerously close to a slice of plated cold pizza; DUM-E is rolling around a few feet away chasing after a crumpled ball of paper Peter had tossed over his shoulder; there are tools scattered everywhere and blueprints and a whiteboard covered in equations.

But no phone.

Peter slips off his stool. He walks toward the sound, slowly, cautiously, and by the time he thinks he’s located the source the ringing stops.

Peter stares at Tony’s discarded running jacket. Throwing him a quick glance over his shoulder just to make sure the older man is still asleep, he reaches into the pocket and pulls out an old flip phone.

“What,” he deadpans, to absolutely no one.

Tony Stark, the former CEO of the world’s largest tech conglomerate. Tony Stark, creator of the most powerful mechanical weapon—sorry, prosthetic—of all time…

Is carrying around a dinky Nokia from 2009.

A Nokia which promptly starts ringing again (very loudly). “Shit!” Peter swears, jumping. On instinct he answers it. “Hello? What? Hello?”

“Tony?”

Peter glances at Tony again. He bites his lip. “Tony is unfortunately unavailable at the moment. I’m his… personal assistant. Would you like to leave a message?”

“Oh, uh,” there’s some muffled muttering on the other end, like the caller is relaying Peter’s words back to someone else, and then, “I uh—it’s kind of an emergency. Would you mind asking him if he’s got a minute to talk?”

And by now, Peter’s totally put the pieces together: crappy old phone, the voice—he is absolutely 100% having a real life conversation with Steve Rogers.

Again.

Peter doesn’t exactly know the full story between Tony and Steve. He just knows that whenever anyone brings up Rogers, Tony’s face darkens and he clams up.

Squinting at Tony, he asks, “Are you sure you need to talk to him?”

“Believe me, I wouldn’t have called otherwise.”

“But if you had, maybe, some other form of assistance? Say a web-slinging vigilante from Queens?”

There’s a pause.

Steve says, “Hey, kid,” with a smile in his voice.

“Hey Brooklyn,” Peter returns. “Long time, no speak.”

“Yeah, well, you know. So you’re working for Tony now?”

“I wouldn’t call it working so much as slave labour.”

A laugh. “Somehow I doubt that. What’s he doing?”

“Sleeping—which, y’know, he barely gets enough of as it is. So what’s the situation?”

-

“Nice disguise.”

Natasha Romanoff looks up from the paper kid’s menu she’d been studying. Her eyebrow, dyed blonde, is raised. “I was worried it’d be too effective.”

“You do realise Buzzfeed publishes weekly articles that are literally just blurry photos of you and the other rogues followed by a bunch of keysmashes?”

“Excuse me?”

“Don’t worry about it.” Peter slides into the booth opposite her. “So you’re here to what, feel me out?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, I’ve already done that.” She sets the menu down. “I was already in the area. We’re both waiting for the ride.”

Peter nods. He looks out the window while she studies his face. He’d had no choice but to forego the mask seeing as his suit is still under repairs back in the lab. FRIDAY had said it wouldn’t be fixed until morning.

Natasha kicks his foot. “Why do you look younger than I remember?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugs. “But hey, since we’re playing Q&A, why’d you stab Tony in the back?”

“I didn’t stab him in the back,” Romanoff argues. “I just… the Avengers are my family—”

“Tony’s part of the Avengers—”

“Tony has a support system. Steve is nothing without us—and I say that with love. Without his team he’d just be a sad old man stuck in time.”

“But now with you and your amazing makeover skills, he’s at least caught up to the seventies with that beard.”

She kicks him again. “Shut up. I don’t have to explain my reasoning to a kid.”

“So why are you?”

Romanoff squints and leans forward. “Why are you here?”

“Because if Tony knew that you needed help, he’d stop at nothing to save you no matter how much he hated your guts—which he doesn’t, by the way, he’s just really hurt—even if it meant putting his own life in danger. I don’t want that.” Peter shrugs. “Plus you were pretty cool last time and I thought we could be, I don’t know, friends or something. Whatever, it’s stupid.”

Her lip quirks up. “It’s not stupid.”

“Really? So you’ll be my spider buddy?”

Natasha rolls her eyes. “Think of a better name first and then we’ll see.”

He opens his mouth to retort, but right at that moment the door to the Taco Bell chimes and Steve Rogers walks in.

“Oh wow,” Peter whispers. “The beard really does work for him.”

“Right?” She grabs his arm. “Come on, little spinner.”

—

Steve is not at all pleased at how young Peter is.

“I dropped a jet rail on a kid,” he proclaims for the upteenth time, knuckles white around the steering wheel.

“Yeah, a kid that can lift fifteen tons on a bad day,” Peter snaps back, a little irritated now. He finishes strapping on the kevlar gear Natasha had provided him with. It’s bulkier than what he’s used to, but better than no protection at all.

“I dropped a jet rail on a kid.”

Natasha reaches out. “Steve—”

“I DROPPED A JET RAIL ON A KID!”

“I’m FINE!” Peter shouts back, the only one in the van besides Barnes that doesn’t flinch.

“You’re eight!” Steve retorts. “You don’t even know what fine is!”

Peter closes his eyes. “Oh my god.”

“Steve, he’s enhanced,” Natasha reminds him, the only voice of reason. “Tony never would have brought him if he didn’t think Parker could handle it—”

Peter’s eyes snap back open. “How do you know my last name?”

“What did I say about how I’d already felt you out?”

“That sounds… so much worse than the way you mean it.”

“See?” Natasha pats Steve’s arm. “He’s already making dirty jokes. He’s fine.”

Steve is silent for a few seconds. Then he shakes his head. “We have to take him back.”

“What?!” Peter demands. “No! You need my help!”

“I need Tony’s help!”

“I can literally do anything Tony can,” Peter proclaims, and then pauses. “Probably.”

“That’s real reassuring,” Wilson pipes up from a few feet over.

“No one asked you,” Romanoff hisses.

Wilson rolls his eyes. “I’m just saying, Steve’s got a point. Look at this little twink. Have you seen him? He’s like two feet big.”

“I’m literally sitting right here,” Peter says. “And I wasn’t kidding when I said I can lift fifteen tons.”

“No,” Steve decides. “You’re too small.”

“Oh, are you shitting me?!” Barnes explodes. “Steve, you were a five foot tall asthmatic when you enlisted!”

“That was a different time!”

“It’s just a little stealth mission,” Barnes says. “The kid can pin my arm down. Even you can’t do that.”

Steve frowns. “You can pin his arm down?”

Peter takes a deep breath. “I’ll say it one more time: fifteen tons.”

Another pause.

“Fine,” Steve says. “Fine, Jesus Christ. But if he dies—”

“You’ll blame yourself like you always do,” Natasha finishes for him with a dry look.

Rogers sighs. “Yeah. Probably.”

—

Tony jolts awake at precisely four AM.

The first thing he sees is pizza.

It’s two inches from his face and disgustingly congealed. He pushes it away as he raises his head, and then notices a second thing: Peter is gone.

“Um… FRIDAY?”

“Yes Boss?”

“Where’s the kid?”

“He left approximately two and a half hours ago on urgent business.”

Tony’s eyes narrow. That stinks. Like, a lot. “Urgent business? He’s twelve.”

“I was only able to catch his half of the phone conversation—”

“Oh, well then just trace the call or whatever.”

“I’m afraid the phone he used isn’t advanced enough for that.”

Tony stiffens. He doesn’t want to look, but turns around anyway, eyeing his jacket. Slowly he grabs it and feels around in the pockets. “It’s gone.”

“What’s gone?”

“What do you think?! The phone! The little rectangular piece of garbage Rogers FedExed to me with the worst apology note of all time!”

“Oh, that.”

Tony freezes. His eyes close briefly. Then they seek out the nearest of FRIDAY’s cameras. “You didn’t wake me up, darling.”

“No,” she replies, almost sheepish.

“Whyever not?”

“Peter and I both agreed that the best thing for you would be for you to sleep as long as possible—”

“I don’t CARE what’s best for ME!”

He takes a minute to fume. Then he starts moving. “Is he wearing his watch?”

“Yes, Boss.”

“Fantastic, showstopping, incredible,” Tony slaps the housing unit on his chest. “Open the pod bay doors, would you?”

—

Peter is kind of kicking ass.

Like, not to brag or anything, but he’s taken down six HYDRA agents so far and for once hasn’t had to ask for help. He’s holding his own.

Maybe it’s something to do with being part of a whole unit. They move around each other, they fight as one; there’s a boost to the normal amount of adrenaline Peter feels in the midst of a fight. He knows that if he gets kneed in the chest and goes down for a second, Barnes is gonna swoop in and break a jaw with his metal arm. Likewise, Wilson knows that if he gets thrown back into the wall with that weird glowy laser gun, Peter is gonna web the HYDRA soldier up and subdue the threat.

It’s… kind of awesome.

They’ve split up, for the most part. Maximoff, Rogers, and Romanoff are working through the east wing while Peter, Barnes, and Wilson slowly carve their way through the west.

“Could use a little bit of backup,” Wanda says through the comms, in a rasping, out of breath voice.

Peter taps his ear. “Where are you?”

“Second floor, third room,” she reports.

Peter doesn’t waste any time. He shoots a web for the roof of the atrium and swings across the wide open space that separates the two halves of the building. He’d calculated the distance just right and hurtles straight into Wanda’s attacker.

“Thanks,” she huffs.

Peter shrugs, wiping Dilapidated Building Dust off of his suit. “Hey, no problem.”

“You know, they’re all hypocrites.”

Peter pauses. “What?”

“I was nineteen when we went to Germany. My powers just happened to be more convenient for their needs.”

“I, uh—oh.”

She slips past him. “I’m not saying they’re not good people. I’m just saying that when it comes to winning, sometimes morality goes out the window. In that way… Sometimes I think Stark might have had the right of it.”

Before he can really process that, Peter reaches out and grabs her wrist. She scowls. “What?”

“Two agents, twenty feet away and gaining.”

“How can you tell?”

“Heartbeats.”

To his surprise, she grins. “I’m not going to lie, that would come in handy a lot with the work we do.”

“Well, you know where to find me. Wanna trip em Suite Life style?”

“What?”

“Nothing, just follow my lead.”

—

When Rogers’ fist collides with the last agent in the base, and Peter and Romanoff have extracted all of the information she needed off of HYDRA’s underground databases, Wilson says, “Do your thing, Wanda.”

She nods. “Everyone clear out.”

Peter doesn’t question it too much. He follows Barnes’ lead outside. The base, disguised as a factory, is in the middle of the Jersey woods—so there’s no one around to watch Wanda’s hands glow red and for the building to collapse inward.

“Cool,” Peter breathes.

“Destroying buildings can be fun when it’s on purpose,” Wanda tells him, somewhat bitterly.

Peter frowns. “That wasn’t your fault.”

“Tell that to Stark.”

“He doesn’t think—”

“Tell me what?”

Peter’s blood runs cold. He doesn’t want to turn around, but he does anyway; slowly so as to delay his inevitable demise. Tony is hovering about feet behind them all with his faceplate down.

“Oh,” he says stupidly. “Hey.”

The plate lifts.

Tony does not look happy.

“Hello.”

“It’s uh… fancy seeing you here?”

“Oh, don’t try to be cute with me.” Tony drops down onto the ground. “How about you save me the heart attack by telling me what in God’s name you’re doing out in the middle of nowhere at four in the fucking morning—and you left with them of all people when I specifically asked you not to!”

Peter opens his mouth. Then he closes it and averts his eyes. “They needed… help.”

“Oh, they needed help,” Tony shakes his head. “You need help. Psychiatric help.”

“Hey, lay off the kid man,” Wilson pipes up. “He was just—”

“Excuse me?” Tony puts a hand to his ear. “What? I must be mishearing, it sounded like you were butting into a conversation that has nothing to do with you by defending the poor decision making of a sixteen year old kid who has a math test in four hours!”

Peter blinks. He’d forgotten about that. “Okay, you’ve got a point there—however, I’d like to present to the jury evidence piece six-hundred and five: my completely uninjured body!”

Tony opens his mouth. Then it snaps shut again. Opens again; “Just wait until Aunt May hears about this.”

Peter’s eyes widen. “Are you crazy?! She’ll kill us both!”

Tony hesitates. “You might have a point—but that doesn’t change the fact that this was incredibly reckless and stupid! You can’t just run off willynilly without even informing your parents—”

“Willynilly?” Peter interrupts, instead of PARENTS?!

“Enough! You’re grounded!”

Natasha steps forward. “Tony—”

“From what,” Peter challenges, ignoring her.

Tony sputters. “Uh, your suit, Karen, TV, that board game—”

“Don’t pretend like you don’t know what Dungeons and Dragons is called.”

“The name of the game is irrelevant,” Tony snaps. “Two weeks. Maybe three if you piss me off any more on the way home.”

“Don’t tell me you expect me to like, latch onto your suit.”

“And put you in more danger?! Fuck no! Happy’s waiting in the SUV.”

Peter sighs. He turns to the others. “Well, it’s been fun. Thanks.”

Steve Rogers blinks. “Uh, yeah. You did good, kid.”

Tony holds up a hand as Peter tries to pass him. He’s squinting at Steve, but seems to decide he doesn’t want to speak to the other man. He zeroes in on Natasha. “He did good?”

“Damn good,” she replies. “We could use him.”

Tony throws his head back and laughs. “Fucking hilarious! Think again! I swear to God, if I catch any of you heathens near my kid again and you’ll be dead before my feet hit the ground. Kid, go to the car.”

“Tony—”

“No. Car.”

—

“What the hell, Rogers.”

“Tony—”

“No! This is not the part where you speak.” Tony takes a second to remember to breathe because his heart is still pounding and there’s red on the edges of his vision. “I meant what I said. Stay away from my kid.”

“Tony, he’s stronger than you’re giving him credit for—”

“Nope! Nope! No!” Tony blasts off before he has to listen to any more.

—

“Aren’t you forgetting something?”

Peter meets Happy’s eyes through the rear view mirror. Glaring, he slowly buckles his seatbelt.

“That’s more like it. So, did you have fun?”

Peter slouches. “Am I even allowed to say yes?”

“No.” Happy shrugs. “But hey, if it’s any consolation—”

Peter never gets his consolation; the car door swings open and Tony slips inside. Before he can even get a word in, he’s being pulled into Tony’s arms. The older man’s heart is hammering against his chest.

“Kid—”

“I’m sorry,” Peter blurts. “Really. I know I shouldn’t have gone, I just… I wanted to help.”

“I know.”

He breathes out. “They didn’t mean to—”

“Leave them out of it.”

“But I went along with it—”

“Peter,” Tony says, and then sighs. “Just… that can’t happen again, okay? Promise me?”

Peter wishes he meant it when he says, “Yeah, I-I promise.”

The drive home is quiet, but Tony lets Peter fall asleep on his shoulder, and when they get back to New York they stop at his school so he’s not late for his test.

And everyone sees who’s in the car when Peter gets out.

Kind of makes up for being grounded, if you ask him.

[emmy-writes-sometimes]

Work It Out

After a drunken fight with your dad, Sebastian, you go to your uncle’s house where he forces the two of you to work it out.

-

           “Jesus, babe, just…” Your boyfriend was doing his best to get you back into your bedroom from the fire escape outside your window, but he wasn’t doing enough. You were so drunk that you could barely swing your leg over. You just wanted to sleep. But your boyfriend had to sneak you back in because it was him who snuck you out.

           “I’m tryingggg,” you slurred. He laughed and physically picked you up, carrying you through the window. He set food on the ground and put you back down, helping to steady you. “Well, my dad isn’t here. Maybe he didn’t find out.”

           “Really, Y/n? Think again.” Your father’s voice was cross as he sat in your desk chair, arms crossed against his chest.

           “Oh, fantastic,” you said. That was probably the clearest sentence you’d said in a while. You were drunk enough that consequences didn’t seem that bad, but you were also drunk enough to smart off to him when you normally never would.

           “Alex, I called you an Uber. It should be downstairs. Text Y/n and I’ll know you got home safe. And use the front door, not the fire escape.” Your boyfriend’s cheeks flushed and he let you go.

           “Sure. Sorry, Mr. Stan.” Your dad’s eyes softened a little bit.

           “Thank you for making sure my girl got home. But next time she decides to try and sneak out of the house, don’t help her.”

           “Roger that.” Your boyfriend walked out of your room and you soon heard the front door shut, leaving you and your dad. You sat down on your bed while all of that was going on, removing your high heels, and you un-zipped the back of your dress. You grabbed a t-shirt from your dresser and pulled it on, then took your dress off to reveal the shorts you had on underneath. You knew there was a fight coming, but you wished it could wait until tomorrow.

           “What were you even thinking, Y/n?” Your dad asked you. His voice was quiet. His fingers rubbed at his temples and you realized you must have woken him up. He had a flight at 9 the next morning, so he should have been asleep already. It was only 11, but it felt so much later now that you were completely and totally intoxicated.

           “I was thinking I got invited out to a party and I wanted to go?” You said, curling up in a blanket you kept folded at the foot of your bed. Your dad kept the house absolutely freezing cold, and for what reason you would never know. Your dad sighed.

           “I don’t even know what to do here. First you sneak out, when you could’ve just asked me. Then you have the audacity to sneak back in and think I won’t catch you when you’re drunk as hell. Which, by the way, when did you start drinking, because I must have missed that too.” His voice rose and fell and you could just hear how angry he was with you. Even drunk you felt guilty. Sober you would have felt so guilty you could cry yourself to sleep.

           “I’m sorry, Dad,” you responded.

           “Sorry’s not good enough. Do you know how dangerous it is to be out there at night?”

           “Dad, we live on the Upper East Side. If Blair Waldorf didn’t get kidnapped and raped I won’t.” Your dad scoffed at the mention of your favorite show, one he happened to have been in.

           “And that’s besides the point. What you did was so dangerous, Y/n. If you called me, I would’ve picked you up, because what agreement do we have?”

           “If I ever need you, you’re there. No questions asked.”

           “And this would’ve counted. I would’ve come to get you in a heartbeat, but you can’t just sneak out like that. It’s one thing if we’re in Atlanta or California, it’s a whole other thing in Manhattan.” Your vision became clearer and clearer as you started sobering up, but everything your dad was saying fell on deaf ears. You weren’t listening because you were so exhausted.

           “I’m sorry, Daddy.”

           “Oh, don’t do that, I know you’re not sorry,” he rolled his eyes. You never called him Daddy unless you wanted something or you wanted him off your back, and this was one of the latter.

           “I am!” You replied.

           “No, you’re not. Otherwise you wouldn’t have done something so stupid in the first place. I’m so disappointed in you, Y/n. This is why we have rules in place, this is why we have the no questions asked agreement. I’m half tempted to cancel my flight and stay here because you obviously can’t be left on your own for a night.”

           “I promise, I won’t do anything stupid.” If he thought you were serious, he didn’t care.

           “I don’t know if I can believe you.” You suddenly had that feeling in your stomach, and you stood up. “Where do you think you’re going?”

           “To throw up two water bottles of Malibu,” you responded dryly, walking into the bathroom attached to your bedroom. You barely made it to the toilet before you threw up. Instead of holding your hair back, your dad chose the route of going to get you some water.

           “Jesus Christ, babe. This is so unlike you.” You shrugged and picked your head up, thinking you were done for the time being.

           “I know. I’m stupid. I know,” you repeated over and over, accepting the water that he gave you.

           “Alright. Here’s what we’re gonna do. You’re gonna go to bed, I’m going to think about a punishment, and you’re going to take it when you wake up tomorrow at approximately 6 AM to drive me to the airport at 6:30. Got it?” You gave him a thumbs up. “I didn’t raise you to be like this.”

           “You barely even raised me at all,” you snapped back without even meaning to. “You’re always gone, remember?”

           “So you’re saying this is all my fault?”

           “Yeah, buddy!” You replied with a small giggle. “You’re on the right track now.” If you had looked at him, you would have seen the tears in his eyes. Was it really his fault? Was he really so absent from your life that he caused you to act out the first chance you got? He sighed, deciding just to leave you alone.

           “Alright. Just… We’ll talk tomorrow morning.” He slumped out of your room, feeling dejected, angry, and upset as hell because he’d never even thought it could be his fault before. But you pointed out the obvious; if he wasn’t gone all the time, maybe you wouldn’t feel the need to get his attention like this.

           Something inside of you just said fuck it. You were sober enough to walk to the other side of your room, change clothes, and grab your phone charger and wallet. You looked at your phone map for a minute – your uncle Chris was in town, at least for a few days, and he was supposed to take you out to lunch tomorrow anyway.

           Are you up? You texted him. He responded within a second that he was. So it was decided. You had never closed the fire escape window, so you could go back out the way you came in. Your wallet had pepper spray attached to it and you flicked it open, ready to spray anyone who dared mess with you at this time of night. Thankfully, most people in that area of New York just minded their own business unless you looked like you had something valuable. But you, barely sixteen, in a sweatshirt and shorts, carrying a wallet and pepper spray at 11 PM, didn’t look like you had anything of value to yourself even.

           You were halfway to Chris’s hotel when you passed the block with the police precinct, and as if it was on cue, blue and white lights lit up the street. You looked around – you were the only person on the street, so they must have been referring to you. You sighed.

           “I’m sorry, Dad,” you said out loud, rubbing your eyelid as a piece of mascara found its way into your eye. An officer got out of the cruiser and walked over to you with a flashlight.

           “Ma’am, can I ask you what you’re doing on the streets at this time of night?” You sighed. Were you about to lie to the NYPD because you didn’t want to go home? Yes, yes you were. This entire night was dumb, but this was probably the dumbest thing you could’ve done.

           “I was at a friend’s apartment, I’m just going back to my uncle’s hotel,” you explained. “I have pepper spray.” The officer scoffed.

           “It’s not safe for you to be walking around here. Where are you from?”

           “I’m from here, but I live half the time in Atlanta.” You weren’t lying completely there – you did have a Georgia driver’s license, your primary address was all listed in Georgia because that was where you went to middle school because your dad was still working for Marvel at that point.

           “And you’re with your uncle, you said?”

           “Yeah, my parents are divorced.” A lie. Your parents weren’t divorced because they’d never been together. You were the product of a meaningless relationship that your dad spent your entire life trying to make up to you.

           “Alright. Well, we can’t have you walking the streets out here at night, so would you like us to go ahead and bring you back to your uncle’s? How old are you, sixteen?”

           “Sixteen,” you responded. “I can call my uncle now.”

           “You can just get into the back seat of that car.” You nodded and started heading toward the cop car, calling Chris. He answered immediately.

           “Hey, sweetie, what are you doing up?” He asked you. You could tell he was up still – he was always a night owl.

           “I was walking to yours and the police caught me. Can they drive me over?”

           “Yeah, sure. I’ll meet you in the lobby. It seems like you have something to talk about, don’t you?”

           “Yeah. I’m sorry.” You opened the door to the car and got inside.

           “It’s okay. I’ll see you in a few.” You told the cop the address of Chris’s hotel, checking your phone to make sure your dad hadn’t called you or texted you. Nothing. He probably didn’t even know you were gone. That was the con of living on separate floors in an old brownstone – if you left he might not even know. Half the time you just yelled out to figure out if he was there because you couldn’t tell otherwise.

           “I’ll get out and walk you in,” the officer said when you arrived at the hotel. You saw Chris standing in the brightly lit lobby, looking down at his phone, and raised his hand when he saw you.

           “Thank you, officer, for getting her back to me,” Chris said, shaking hands with the cop that had brought you over. They chatted for a minute when the officer recognized him, but they let you go without even asking for any kind of proof of anything whatsoever. As soon as the officer got in the car and left, Chris nearly dragged you over to the elevator.

           “Ow,” you groaned. You knew you were sobering up, but your body still felt loose.

           “What are you doing here? Your dad doesn’t leave until tomorrow morning.”

           “We got in a fight because I got drunk and he said some stuff and I said some stuff that I don’t remember, but it must have been really mean.” Chris sighed, pressing the elevator up, and when you got to the room you sat down in one of the chairs. It was a nice hotel, one he usually stayed at, so you were at least familiar with it.

           “You want some coffee?” He asked you, turning on the hotel’s small instant coffee maker. You nodded, running your hands through your hair. Your phone lit up with a call from your dad, and you didn’t answer. You didn’t know why you didn’t answer; because you were scared of him, because you didn’t want to talk to him, or maybe a combination of both. You just wanted to be with Chris right now – he always knew how to talk you down when you argued, and you knew he wouldn’t judge you for being drunk and stupid because he’d spent half of his teenage years doing the same thing.

           “Thanks,” you said as he handed you a hot cup of coffee a minute later. He sat beside you and rubbed your back, trying to warm you up from the freezing March weather.

           “Any reason why Seb’s calling you non-stop?”

           “Yeah,” you said. “He probably just realized I’m gone.” Chris sighed.

           “You can’t just run away in the middle of the night, half drunk, and not tell your dad. I’ll call him and…” Just as he was talking, there was a knock at his hotel room door. He sighed and stood up, confused as to who it could be, and when he opened the door, it was Sebastian. He opened the door wider for him to come in, and your dad just stared you down.

           “Really, Y/n?” He asked loudly.

           “Okay, you two, some rules. No yelling. You talk this out. I’m going down to the bar to catch the end of the hockey game. If I get a noise complaint, it’s all on you guys. Deal?” You both nodded and Chris left the room, leaving the two of you alone.

           “How’d you get here?” Your dad asked you, sitting down on the bed across from you. You offered him a sip of your coffee, which he took, and handed back to you.

           “A cop found me so I lied and said I was staying with Chris,” you admitted.

           “Well, at least it was a cop and not some rando. Babe, you can’t run away every time we get into an argument.”

           “I don’t even know why I did.” You took a sip of coffee and it warmed you up and woke you up at the same time, causing you to sit up a little straighter. He sighed, his head in his hands.

           “I didn’t mean anything of what I said back there. I was just aggravated that you snuck out. And I’m glad you were with your boyfriend, but still. You have to tell me where you’re going, that’s why we have that rule.��

           “I know. I get it.”

           “I thought you actually ran away ran away.”

           “I just came here because I knew he’d let me stay with him until you were gone.” Your dad sighed. “I didn’t mean to say it was your fault. It’s not. It’s mine.”

           “No, you were right. I wasn’t here. For a lot of things. I was too busy being Bucky Barnes that I forgot how to be your dad, and I’m sorry. You needed a dad and that was the one role I didn’t know how to do.” You were both quiet for a minute. “Why don’t you come out to L.A. with me tomorrow? We can take a few days after my audition, just you and me, and we can get ourselves together.”

           “I’d like that.” It had been a long time since he’d taken you anywhere without the intention of just letting you stay in a hotel all day. “You work hard. And I know that. I just miss you. And I guess I just got mad because I miss you.”

           “I miss you too, babe. Come here.” You stood up at the same time he did and he wrapped you in a hug. He could still smell the alcohol on your breath, but he paid no mind to it. He just hugged you tighter than he had in a long time. That was when the door opened again and Chris was standing there.

           “Oh, thank God, you worked it out. Seb, how’d you even know she was here?”

           “Would you believe me if I said I was coming to talk to you because I didn’t even know she was gone?” Chris chuckled.

           “Yeah, I actually would believe that.” Your dad laughed, letting you go finally.

           “Alright, we’re gonna head home. I’m taking her out to L.A. with me, but if you wanna use the house you’re welcome to take the guest room still.”

           “Thanks, man. And the both of you just need to learn how to talk to each other, because if I wasn’t here you’d probably still be in a screaming match.” You sniffled and gave Chris a hug, thanking him, and your dad called a car to come get the both of you.

           “By the way, water bottles full of Malibu? I know it’s clear, but you should really get a colored water bottle if you’re gonna do that.” You elbowed your dad, laughing for the first time in forever, and wiped away a tear that had been on your face.

A/N: So I ended up combining three requests with this, one where she sneaks in with her boyfriend, one where she goes to Chris’s after an argument, and one where she gets picked up by the police. I hope that’s okay with you guys, but I thought they all worked so well together that I might as well!

[i-just-love-spop]

The Coffee Paradox

My first piece for the Glimbow Week Countdown! I’m running a Glimbow Week over at @glimbow-week-2020 in a couple of weeks, check out the account for more information!

Written for the Glimbow Week Countdown Prompt “cooking”, based off of a prompt request from @amozon28 that I got a while ago. She requested the prompt “The tea tastes weird.” “Might be because that's coffee.” for Glimbow. Sorry this took so long, hope you enjoy!

Summary: Bow and Glimmer have breakfast together on a calm morning after the war.

[Takes place a bit after the show.]

Heads up, there’s one or two very minor sex references, but nothing explicit, in general the fic is completely sfw.

Also, the fact that Glimmer gets eggs for breakfast is purely coincidental and has nothing in the slightest to do with @tippenfunkaport and the fact that her fic for this prompt made me sad and I had to cope with it somehow (seriously though go read her fic it’s really good)!

—

It was a calm morning in Bright Moon. The soft morning light shone through the curtains of the private kitchen that was attached to Glimmer’s bedroom but that she’d rarely ever used for a very long time.

Glimmer stood there, in the middle of the kitchen, taking in both the breath of fresh air from the window that Bow had apparently opened before he’d left the room to do – she wasn’t sure what he was doing, exactly, but at least he wasn’t in here anymore at the moment –, and the wonderful odor of the breakfast he’d made... warm pancakes, scrambled eggs and her favorite fruit juice were all waiting on the dining table for her. The smell alone was enough to made her mouth water.

‘Moons, how did I get so lucky?’

For a bit, Glimmer just stood at the window and took in the view of the world outside the castle that was slowly waking up. People were laughing, kids were playing in the fields and at the water, some even going for a morning swim. When looking at the world from up here, you could barely tell that there had been a war going on until very recently.

Sometimes Glimmer couldn’t help but think that an entire lifetime had passed between the end of the war and this morning, when I’m reality, it had barely been a few weeks.

There had been more peaceful mornings since the war was over. It felt weird... but the good kind of weird.

Sure, there was still work to do, but almost everyone seemed to sleep easier these days, and everyone deserved a couple of lazy mornings every now and again after everything they’d went through.

Heck, even Adora managed to sleep most nights now that Catra was with her. She even managed to sleep in, which was possibly the weirdest thing about this situation. ‘Adora’ and ‘sleeping in’ were about the last two words any of them would have ever put in the same sentence up until a couple of weeks ago.

...but she did now. And it made Bow and Glimmer incredibly happy to see that their friend was doing so much better after seeing her inability to relax in action for years prior.

As for the Queen of Bright Moon and her future King... they maybe didn’t get as much sleep as they used to since their first official date, but for good reasons only.

Bow had wanted their first kiss to be special, so he’d taken his girlfriend – she was his girlfriend now, the thought still made Glimmer feel all mushy inside – out on a starlight picnic as soon as they had the time.

That evening, everything had fallen into place.

Glimmer smiled at the memory.

‘We kissed, alright.’

And they’d done much more that night, and since then, and she couldn’t remember if she’d ever felt quite as happy in her life as she was feeling right now. Things were still far from perfect, of course... her mother’s absence had left a burning hole in her heart that she didn’t think anything would ever be able to make whole again, and there was also the looming guilt of the mistake she’d made that she would never be entirely able to forget... and trying to form a normal father-daughter-relationship with Micah after loosing him at such a young age and after she’d long come to terms with his supposed death wasn’t the easiest thing either – but as long as Bow was with her, she felt like she could take on the world, or maybe even the entire galaxy.

When she’d been younger, before discovering her powers and learning to control them, she’d envied her mother’s wings, her ability to fly. She’d long worked past these feelings... but now, when she was around Bow, she felt like she finally understood what it felt like to fly. She didn’t think she’d ever grow tired of the way his hand felt in hers or the way her heart skipped a beat every time he looked at her.

Sometimes she still had nightmares... but she was slowly starting to get them under control. Talking about it got easier as time went by – even though she knew it was never going to be easy –, and even when she wasn’t alright, Bow was there to hold her and kiss her and tell her she was safe with him.

Speaking of Bow...

“Morning, Love.” He hugged her from behind and gave her a kiss on the cheek as she turned around. “I hope I didn’t wake you when I got up earlier, but I felt like doing something special for you today.”

“Don’t worry.” She grinned. “I slept pretty well after our... exercise yesterday.“

Glimmer winked and kissed her boyfriend as his cheeks heated up.

For a moment, they just stood there, happily making out in the middle of the kitchen.

“We really can’t keep our hands off each other, huh?” He asked softly with the usual sweet smile in his face when they broke apart, and all she wanted to do was immediately pull him into another kiss because nope she definitely did not want to keep her hands off him, but he’d made breakfast and it was getting cold, so making out further would have to wait, because if they continued on like that, they’d be in the bedroom rather than the kitchen in what Glimmer guessed was approximately five minutes from now.

“I’m afraid we’ll have to, or the food you put so much effort into will end up being cold.” She chuckled and winked at him. “We‘ll continue this later.”

“As you wish.” He gave her another quick peck on the cheek, then pulled back a chair and gestured for her to sit down on it. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to leave you alone with all the food, I thought you were still asleep and wanted to take the opportunity to go outside and collect some of these before I woke you up.”

He sat down next to her and held a small bowl of strawberries in her direction. Her face lit up even more.

“Oh stars, I love you so much. You’re amazing. How did I get so lucky?”

Bow felt his heart flutter in his chest at the way her eyes lit up when she looked at him. Every morning that he woke up next to her, he wondered how exactly he’d taken so long to realize what Glimmer really meant to him when it was so blatantly obvious now that nobody in the galaxy could ever compare to her.

He’d missed her every second they’d been apart, and now that he’d found her again, he was planning on holding onto her for the rest of his life – if she’d let him.

“I love you, too,” He whispered softly, still every bit as mesmerized by how she looked as he had been the first time. Her hair sparkled brightly in the soft morning light, and Bow couldn’t help but think that his girlfriend was visibly as much of an angel as her mother had been. “We’re both incredibly lucky, Glim.”

She smiled softly at him, and her heart melted from the way he smiled back at her.

“Guess we are.“

Gosh, how much she’d longed for him to look at her like this over the last couple of years, despite refusing to admit it. And now they were a couple, and she couldn’t be happier.

—

The food tasted heavenly, and they had a really nice breakfast... for the most part.

Everything was really good – except for the coffee Glimmer had made while Bow had been outside gathering strawberries.

Bow winced a bit as he took the first sip, despite his best efforts to hide it out of politeness.

“Huh. This tea tastes a bit weird.”

He put the mug down. All his politeness wasn’t enough to get him to have another sip.

“Might be because that's coffee,” Glimmer replied and chuckled a bit.

Bow raised an eyebrow.

“That’s coffee?” He stared at her blankly for a moment when she nodded. “Glimmer, honey, I love you, but we really need to work on your cooking skills.”

He gave her a polite smile, already feeling bad because he didn’t like criticizing her when it came to stuff like that. She was trying, and he found it very sweet that she was, and a lot of the time, what she made came out fine – sometimes great, even – but this wasn’t one of those times.

It was weird, actually. She’d made coffee before. It wasn’t the greatest, but it wasn’t that terrible usually...

“Come on, it can’t be that ba-” Glimmer took a sip herself and oh by Etheria’s moons did she stand corrected. She had a hard time not spitting the ‘coffee’ – honestly whatever this really was had no right to be called that – across the table. She decided to just spit it back into the mug instead, and then spent several seconds wiping her tongue with a napkin. Anything to get the taste out of her mouth. “You swallowed that? I’m so sorry.” Glimmer winced and gave her boyfriend an apologetic look. “What did I do to that? Moons, this tastes...” She grimaced. “Okay, note to self, no more making coffee when I’m too tired to function.”

Bow chuckled and smiled at his girlfriend.

“So... before you’ve had coffee?”

He really should have known it was that. Glimmer had never been a morning person, after all.

‘Her sleepiness explains it, alright.’

She shrugged and then joined in on the laughing.

“Huh, yeah, I guess. Can’t make coffee if I’m tired, and can’t stop being tired without having coffee. Eternal coffee paradox,” She joked, making her boyfriend chuckle.

Sometimes she wondered if laughing at even your friend’s dumbest jokes should have been a dead giveaway that they were in love with each other.

“How about we stick to me making coffee in the morning in that case, then? Paradox solved,” Bow added, kissing her cheek.

“That... might be a good idea.”

Glimmer had gone back to her delicious pancakes

He didn’t mind. At all. To be quite honest, he actually loved spoiling his girlfriend. The way her face lit up over little things (like him bringing her coffee in the morning) was adorable, and if it made her happy, he would gladly keep doing it for the rest of their lives.

“In all seriousness, though... if you want to, I can show you a couple tricks when it comes to cooking? Just an idea, of course. Your usual cooking when you’re not sleep deprived is fine. I just thought cooking together might be nice.“

“I mean, it does sound nice...“ She took another bite of the scrambled egg, which was the only thing left on her plate. It had been a while since they’d done stuff as normal as cooking together. “But we don’t have time for that right now. There’s more important-” Glimmer started, then stopped herself mid-sentence.

Actually... there wasn’t. Sure, there was still towns in need of rebuilding, but most Etherians were doing a pretty good job taking care of their homes themselves, and while that of course didn’t mean the princesses didn’t still help wherever they could... it did mean that occasionally, they were able to take some time to themselves and do stuff like cooking together, or going on dates, or going for a swim in Mystacor, without half of Etheria falling back apart or getting attacked while they were gone.

“Huh... actually, I guess we could do that.” She put her hand on his, fingers intertwining in the middle of the table as she sighed softly. “I’m... still not used to not going to battle constantly.”

He ran his thumb over the palm of her hand gently and smiled at her softly.

“Takes some time getting used to, doesn’t it?” Bow sighed. “I think all of our heads are still in the war half the time, despite the fact that it ended. But it will get better, eventually. I just know it will. And until then, we’ll go every step of the way together, yeah?”

She squeezed his hand a little tighter and smiled at him.

“Yeah. Every step of the way.”

—

She’d come to figure out that she loved cooking with her boyfriend very soon.

[nonstoplover]

some kind of beautiful ~ Tom Holland (song drabble)

my masterlist │my song drabbles

song used as inspiration: tyler ward ft. lindsey stirling ~ some kind of beautiful

words: 3.3K

approximate reading time: about 15 mins

a/n: i listened to this song and got struck by a wave of inspiration lmao i love tyler and lindsey (and oh my gosh that music video o.O), this song is just adorable and i immediately imagined this with my baby Tom so here you go. i hope you enjoy xx

The headlights cast a warm yellow beam on the road ahead of Tom as he drives in complete darkness. Earlier it was probably raining as the asphalt sparkles underneath the ray of light, something that doesn't surprise him anymore. Whenever he's driving north to see his girlfriend, it's almost always like this. In England, rain is something that comes a permanent part of your life, Tom learned that early.

He suppresses a yawn, raising a hand from the steering wheel for a moment to rub his eyes, then changes the song that's playing from the speakers. A familiar tune immediately fills his ears, and his lips curve into a wide smile. It's their song.

His mind fills with memories of her and the previous exhaustion he felt is long gone. It doesn't matter anymore that he just attended a premiere of his newest movie last night. It doesn't matter anymore that he got up early to jump on the first plane and fly home, then got into his car right away and set off towards Liverpool immediately without a single moment to rest.

He just has to see her. He has to tell her that he wants them to move in together. It's all that has been in his mind for the past week or so, and he knows he has to tell her about it before he goes absolutely crazy. He prepared all the most perfect reasons in his mind, so she just can't say no. And it's way more important than something that could be talked about in a text conversation.

Whenever he's away from her - and for some unknown reason, especially this last time - he misses her non-stop. Her scent. Her touch. The glimmer of her eyes whenever she looks at him, and only him. The way her lips curve into a smile. The sound of her angelic laugh in his ears. The taste of her lips against his. The delicate, feather-like touches of her fingers against his skin. How peaceful she looks when she's asleep in his arms. How happy she makes him just by existing.

He remembers clear as day the first time he saw her, three years back in a café in London. Looking at her made the entire world fade out in his eyes and he still can't comprehend how on Earth he got so lucky that the only empty table was right beside hers. He accidentally heard what she and the other girl at the table - her sister she was visiting, as Tom later found out - talked about and apologetically joined in the conversation with his opinion on the matter. Two and a half hours later Tom left for a meeting with her number saved in his phone.

Within fifteen minutes he had already asked her if she'd wanted to meet with him with a bold and cheeky text, which then led to them spending as much time together as possible throughout the following eight days she stayed in London - with Tom's job and (y/n)'s primary reason, being with her sister in the way. Then she went back to Liverpool and took a part of Tom with her.

They kept in touch, texting every waking moment, driving everyone around them mad with the constant typing and smiling at screens. And a month later Tom drove up north for the first time, visiting her for the weekend. He asked her to be his girlfriend. She said yes. And they have been in a long distance relationship ever since. It was hard, but whenever they could see each other, it made it worth it.

And now he's going to take it to the next step - asking her to move to London.

His cheeks are hurting from the wide smile that stays fixed for the entire drive as he now drives down familiar streets, leading to her. He pulls into the first parking spot he catches sight of around her apartment block, stops the engine and rushes out of the car, right towards the front door without even glancing at his watch to see how late it is.

Tom takes the stairs two at a time, not slowing his speed for one second until he's right outside her door. He presses the switch of the doorbell, then leans forward, supporting himself with his palms on his knees to catch his breath. From inside he hears the soft padding of feet growing louder, then the key clattering in the lock and eventually the door opens.

(y/n) gasps as her eyes take in those very familiar soft, brown locks. "Tom?" She lets out in question.

The mentioned boy raises his head and their eyes connect right away without difficulty and the dark brown sea of his irises sparkle with a new excitement.

"Hi," he breathes out, getting lost in her sight and smell and sound. She's wearing a plain tank top and a pair of pastel sweatpants, no makeup covering her natural beauty, her hair up in a messy bun, and Tom just knows that he made the right decision driving here first thing after landing.

"What the hell are you doing here?" (y/n) crosses her arms in front of her chest, suddenly overly aware of the fact that Tom is wearing a suit whilst she's in her comfiest clothes, looking messier than ever. "You were at the premiere in LA just last night!"

"I know," he lets out a chuckle. "I drove here as soon as I landed."

"You what ?!"

"Now are you going to let me in or am I gonna spend the entire night out here in the corridor?"

"Sorry," the girl's eyes widen in realisation and she takes a step to the side to let him in.

Tom waits until the door closes back behind him, shrugging off his suit jacket in the meantime and stretching his arms as (y/n) secures the lock again. Then as soon as she turns back towards him, he grabs her waist with both hands, pulling her flush against his body.

"I missed you," he mumbles, lips almost touching hers.

"I missed you too, crazy," she whispers back, a small smile lighting up her whole face as her arms slowly snake around his shoulders and neck.

Tom wastes no time to dive in, catching her mesmerizing, inviting strawberry coloured lips in a searing kiss. Then another one. And another. He just can't get enough. And when (y/n) finally tries to move out of his touch, placing her palms against his chest to gently push him away, his raspy voice breaks the silence again.

"I know I've already kissed you like, ten times, but just like another ten, please."

As that sweet, heartwarming, angelic giggle leaves her mouth, he goes right back in, continuing to pepper her with kisses, this time not stopping at her lips, instead moving all around her face.

"Stop! Tom, stop!" (y/n) wiggles to escape from the ticklish touch of his lips against her skin, but the muscles in his arm tense and keep her there effortlessly.

A minute later Tom eventually stops and leans back, arms loosening around her torso, but it's not like he already had enough - quite the opposite actually, but he knows she's getting overwhelmed.

"Come on, you big teddy bear, let's get you changed, then I'll give you some food," (y/n) moves a hand behind her back to lace her fingers with his, then makes her way further inside the apartment.

Arriving to the bedroom, she lets go of his hand so he can swiftly go to the bathroom whilst she rummages out the hoodie and the pair of sweatpants he left at her place during one of his stays from her closet, and then when they meet up again, Tom pulls (y/n) in for yet another lingering kiss.

With a playful roll of her eyes (y/n) moves out of his touch again, then helps him undo the buttons of his shirt, pushing it down his shoulders before reaching out for the newly found hoodie and handing it to him.

"Get dressed, I'll be in the kitchen," she pecks Tom's cheek before placing the white shirt down on the chair on her way out, trying to leave it as smoothed out as possible.

She swiftly moves around the small kitchen, starting to make a couple sandwiches and a cup of hot tea for Tom - eventually finishing it with his help -, then they sit down on the couch in the living room and she watches him eat. At first she asks him questions about the premiere and he tries to answer, but given that his mouth is almost always filled with food, they soon give up and change the topic so instead of Tom, (y/n) tells about her past two days.

When he finishes eating and places the now empty cup and plate on the coffee table, they are finally able to cuddle, something the both of them have been waiting for ever since Tom has arrived. Their limbs are tangled and his arms are wrapped around her body in a way that makes her feel safer than ever. (y/n) clings into the material of the hoodie as if she's afraid this is all just a dream, one that she doesn't want to end. Her face is buried in his chest and his face is buried in her hair and they both feel like a whole again after a long time of not seeing each other.

The sound of two relieved sighs break the comfortable silence of the living room at the exact same time, signaling how they are still in sync. Nothing has changed.

"(y/n)?" Tom speaks up a couple minutes later.

"Yeah?" Her sleepy voice mumbles back.

"I've been thinking," he pauses, trying to shake the sudden nervousness that he can feel sweeping in his veins. "I wanted to talk about something."

"Yeah?" (y/n) asks again, but this time much more awake, and Tom can feel her body tensing up under a millisecond before she moves a bit further from him to be able to look at his face.

"I think... well, you know, it's not like we're rushing into anything, it's been three years already, but... I've been thinking and came to the conclusion that in my opinion you should move to London. To my place."

The last part of his speech comes out so rushed that it sounds like one long word, and as soon as his voice fades out he already feels much calmer and better. The tension in (y/n)'s body loosens immediately, a slowly forming smile breaking the worried expression on her face, but still she doesn't say a word which makes Tom fall back into the nervosity and he opens his mouth to continue.

"You know, actually, I thought about everything. You should quit your job," Tom jabbers before a frown appears on his forehead and he halts to think back to what he's just said. "Okay, that sounded pretty bad, but you've already talked about wanting to quit it and find something else because you don't like it, and so I thought maybe you should find that something in London so we could be together 24/7. Or maybe I can find some job for you to do on the set of my following movies, or whatever you like, really, I just-"

"Shhh," (y/n) raises her hand to press her fingers softly against his lips in order to stop his slur. "If you would just stay quiet for a moment, please."

She watches with a small grin as his eyes widen and he shuts his mouth, nodding and making a motion with his hands as if he's zipping his lips shut.

In the new silence, the girl can finally let her thoughts wander around in her mind, finding pros and cons to his suggestion. And it's not like she hasn't thought about moving to London so many times before. Her sister's there, Tom's there, and even her family lives in Birmingham, so it's not like she would be further away from them either. And she can't deny the fact that in London there are much more job opportunities for her to find, and a much better chance to find something she actually loves and enjoys. Now she just has to say yes.

What are you waiting for?!, the small voice shouts impatiently inside her head.

She takes a deep breath and looks back in the warm brown orbs that are still watching her with the same adoration as they have been the entire night. "Okay," she mumbles.

Tom's body goes rigid, the fingers that have been subconsciously caressing the small of her back freeze in place, pressed into her skin. His eyes widen even more than before, and he gapes like a fish that's out of the water. "Okay?" He breathes back, afraid that he heard something wrong.

"Yeah, I've been thinking about it too. It'd be nice to move in with you," she sheepishly answers, looking up at him through her lashes.

"Are you serious?" Tom exclaims - a bit too loud and high pitched to his liking, but he's just unable to contain his sudden excitement.

"Yes, I am."

They beam at each other, feeling overwhelmed with love before (y/n) lets out a giggle, shaking her head lovingly at the boy in front of her. "But you're still crazy for driving such a distance while being so exhausted."

"I might be, but I couldn't bare another moment without you," Tom shrugs and before the girl could exclaim against his cheesiness, he swiftly places his hands on her cheeks, pulling her in for a kiss.

When they both run out of breath, they go back to the previous cuddling position, staring out into the distance at particularly nothing as they discuss the new plan more rationally. Tom feels like his heart might burst from the joy and love he's feeling at the moment, he's sure he's the happiest person on the planet.

"What do you think, how long will it take for you to pack everything up?" Tom tilts his head, glancing down at the (y/h/c) haired girl.

"Uh, great question. I have no idea," (y/n) grunts as her eyes travel around the room, already dreading the amount of time it will take her.

"We can start it tomorrow. I'll help."

"Tomorrow?" She lets out a giggle. "You really want to rush this so much?"

"Of course, I've been dreaming about this for too long now, I just want it to happen like right now."

(y/n) shakes her head before leaning up to press a chaste kiss against his jawline. "We can start tomorrow, if you'd like..."

"Nice," he grins wide.

A minute of silence comes over the flat, both of them deep in their thoughts about the near future before Tom speaks up again.

"I have a couple things to do in London during next week, but on Friday I'll come back and help you finish packing and then we can drive back together. For the last time," he mumbles, dreamily staring off in the distance, possibly seeing his words form an imagined picture in front of his inner eyes. "So, during the week you should continue packing and arrange moving out with the landlord and I'm gonna properly clean my place so it'll be ready for you and your stuff."

(y/n) takes a breath and opens her lips to give some corny answer, but before any sound could leave her, Tom continues phrasing his thoughts.

"And then when you pack everything out, we can go and buy new things together. I mean, you can decorate the whole house any way you'd like to. And then it'll officially be ours..." Tom's voice swiftly trails off as he hears a quiet sniffle.

He leans back a bit, loosening his embrace on (y/n)'s body before placing his fingers under her chin to gently make her look up at him. With almost no resistance he can lift her head and his eyes are suddenly able to take in the teary, glistening pair of (y/e/c) eyes and damp stains on the skin of her cheeks.

"Hey, are you crying?" He whispers, worry filling his mind and heart.

(y/n) sniffles again and another teardrop escapes one of her eyes, rolling down before Tom reaches out with his thumb to stop it midway. "No, I'm impersonating a fountain," she snorts, a small giggle leaving her lips. "Yes, I'm crying, dumbass."

Tom just rolls his eyes at her sarcastic answer before pulling one hand back from her body so he could fish a tissue out of his hoodie's pocket and hand it to her. "And why are you crying?"

"Because what you just described is the exact thing I've been dreaming of since I was a kid," (y/n) admits while gently pressing the material under her eyes to dry them before blowing her nose in a clearly unromantic way that makes both of them let out a short laugh.

"Ahw, darling," Tom smiles at her, pressing a peck on the now dry skin of her cheeks. "I'm glad I can make it happen."

"Me too," she grins.

They stare in each other's eyes with intense adoration, communicating through the sparkling shades and colours.

"But like there's no need to plan everything in our future tonight, let's just cuddle for now and enjoy the moment," (y/n) speaks up after a couple minutes with a chuckle. "Though you can continue planning tomorrow when we'll be packing, if you want."

Tom responds with a chuckle similar in amount of happiness, only a bit lower in tone.

"Okay. I like the sound of that," he answers before snaking his hands securely around his girlfriend's body and standing up with her in his arms.

(y/n) lets out a small squeal, immediately gripping his biceps in hope of some kind of support as if it would help if she was about to fall. Tom makes his way to the small bathroom and places the girl down on her own feet so she can start her night routine. They can barely keep a straight face as they brush their teeth, knowing that it's actually going to be an everyday thing pretty soon now.

When he finishes, Tom leans back against the sink, watching the love of his life with an amused look in his eyes as she effortlessly makes her way around the small room, reaching to the different shelves for all the skincare products she uses. Their eyes meet every once in a while, making (y/n) blush and let out a giggle from the intensity of his eyes.

It eventually doesn't take long until she's ready to sleep as well and Tom moves his arms around her once more, lifting her up in the air. (y/n) instinctively wraps her legs around his lower body, placing the palms of her hands on the back of his neck.

Reaching the bed, Tom pulls the duvet back with one hand then gently places the girl down on the mattress. He climbs in right behind her after the shortest moment and immediately wraps his arms tightly around her.

"Good night, love," he mumbles in her hair, enjoying the feeling of its smell fill his nose and lungs.

"Good night, Tom," she whispers back. "I love you."

She only pauses for a second in-between the two sentences, but by the time the last word leaves her lips, she can already feel Tom's body going limp and his breaths become more steady and rhythmical as he finally let go and drifted off to sleep, exhaustion completely taking over him as soon as he lets it. Being beside her, he subconsciously knows that he can finally let his guard down again.

.::the end::.

my masterlist

[arotechno]

The Heartless: Chapter 9

Read on Inkitt

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Chapter IX: in which people can change

Travelling with Knife Boy was something of a fever dream; I would wake up every morning of the journey a little unsure of how I got there, trekking eastward with a near stranger who had for months prior been appearing in my nightmares as the faceless specter of everything bad that had ever happened to me. In the light of day, he was strikingly ordinary, albeit a little peculiar, but with all due respect to myself, I had little room to talk about peculiarities. My very existence was an anomaly, born out of something incomprehensible and bordering on evil, a fact of which Knife Boy liked to remind me any chance he got but which seemed to bother him very little. For all he did to hold me at arm’s length, he never threatened to expose me, and I started to be convinced that he really didn’t wish me any ill will. But Carita had had ulterior motives for helping me, so I kept one proverbial eye over my shoulder and waited for the other shoe to drop.

Why I agreed to the plan in the first place was beyond me, and I often went to bed expecting Knife Boy to either kill me in my sleep or be long gone by morning. Nevertheless, he was always there when I woke up, sprawled on the ground examining the maps or scattering the remains of the burnt-out fire to hide the evidence of the previous night’s camp. (While Knife Boy typically slept on the ground, I still took to the trees every night, fearing what would happen to me should anyone discover us and realize who—or what—I was. For all the things we had in common, that was the key difference between us, I came to realize.)

Knife Boy beckoned me out of my tree one morning a few days into our journey by pelting me with acorns from the ground below. I nearly tumbled to the forest floor as I bolted awake, but managed to right myself in time, hanging upside-down with my arms wrapped firmly around the tree limb.

“Do you mind?” I snapped.

“Come down here,” demanded Knife Boy’s upside-down likeness rather impolitely as he tossed another acorn that hit me square in the forehead.

In my still half-asleep delirium, I had half a mind to stay like that just to laugh inwardly at his inverted figure, but it occurred to me that if Knife Boy wasn’t in on the joke then it wasn’t as funny—so I scrambled to find purchase and dropped down to the dirt, Knife Boy’s disgruntled form flipping right-side-up. He waved me over to where he had multiple maps spread out and knelt before them, huffing exasperatedly as he waited for me to join him. I noticed that the remains of last night’s fire had already been scattered and Knife Boy’s usual leaf pile dismantled; I wondered if I’d overslept, which would explain his somehow worse-than-usual bad attitude.

“While you were sleeping away precious daylight, I came up with a plan,” he explained tersely, smoothing his hand across the maps. He pointed out our current approximate location, in the northeastern woods just a stone’s throw from the nearest town. Then he traced his finger along the perimeter until he reached the castle grounds at Amistadia’s eastern edge.

“We should probably stick to traveling through the woods as much as possible. The towns close to the castle grounds are crawling with royal guard,” Knife Boy explained, tapping the parchment for emphasis. “Then,” he switched to a map of the castle grounds, “we’ll approach the castle from the north by night. There, we can hide and wait for the best time to make our move. It’ll take us a few days to get there, but if we ration the rest of our food, we should be able to make it without making a supply run.”

I nodded, but there was a question nagging at the back of my mind. “Where did you even get maps this detailed?”

“They were my mother’s,” Knife Boy replied simply. “She was a historian.”

His tone welcomed no further interrogation, given the No Personal Questions Clause of our unwritten contract, so I kept my mouth shut and went to gather my things for the next leg of our journey.

Knife Boy was a perplexing mix of pensive and disagreeable as we traipsed through the woods, picking at our meager rations from the alley in complete silence. As the lingering fog of sleep cleared from my brain, my mind began to race with thoughts that what we were doing was a spectacularly stupid idea, conjured up by a younger boy with unclear motives and something to prove. However, given that saying as such while Knife Boy was in a mood would likely get me nowhere, I opted to apologize for my own shortcomings instead in an effort to wipe the glower from his face.

“I want to apologize if I overslept this morning,” I said. “I had some trouble sleeping last night.”

Unfortunately, Knife Boy’s expression softened only into a grimace (if that could be called a softening of any kind).

“I did not ask, and I do not care,” he shot back. Then, more neutrally, he added, “If it were that much of a problem, I would have woken you sooner.”

“Ah,” I mused, “so you were being nice.”

Predictably, Knife Boy puffed up like a defensive cat and growled, “I was not.”

I smirked, satisfied to have gotten a rise out of him since my olive branch had been rejected.

“So, why’d you let me sleep in, then?”

“So I didn’t have to listen to you run your stupid mouth.”

 “Sure,” I snorted.

“What, you don’t believe me?” Knife Boy prodded indignantly. “I’ll have you know I— Do you hear something?”

I stopped in my tracks, listening. My ears pricked at a rustling in the bushes, and the distant sound of voices. I knew Knife Boy heard it too when his eyes widened in surprise.

He hissed, “Someone’s coming! Could be guards, hide!”

I dove into the brush, thorns and branches snagging my clothes, and lay flat on my stomach in the dirt, blood rushing in my ears. Belatedly, I noticed Knife Boy had not followed me and peered through a small gap in the bushes to see him standing where I had left him. I nearly called out to him to move, but before I could open my mouth, two men appeared from the right in the unmistakable opulent uniform of the royal guard.

“What are you doing out here in these woods, boy?” the taller of the two asked darkly, eyeing Knife Boy suspiciously. Slowly and silently, I drew an arrow and lay as still as possible, barely breathing.

“I’m homeless, sir,” Knife Boy responded, taking a measured step backward. “An orphan.”

The shorter guardsman laughed. “A street rat like you, all the way out here in the east? You must be joking.”

“It’s no joke, sir.”

The taller guardsman closed the distance and towered over Knife Boy, but the latter stood his ground.

“What’s in the bag?” Tall questioned, gesturing at the sack of food clutched in Knife Boy’s hands. Even at this distance, I could see his grip tighten. For a brief moment, he reminded me of Petra, small and vulnerable and doing what was needed to survive. It was crystal clear, then, who our common enemy truly was.

“Food scraps, sir,” Knife Boy answered honestly, earning a hearty chuckle from Short.

Tall, however, was not laughing. “Looks like it’s time for you to pay your taxes, boy.”

Short stepped around from behind and kicked Knife Boy’s legs out from under him. When he hit the ground with a thump, the bag flew from his grasp, and Tall quickly snatched it up. Before Knife Boy could regain his footing, the two royal guards were already passing him by.

"Stay out of trouble, kid,” Tall called over his shoulder. “You’re not going to like what happens if you don’t.”

Knife Boy and I both stayed on the ground as they disappeared into the woods, lying in wait like two wounded animals playing dead. Eventually, the sound of the guards’ heavy footfalls faded from earshot—Knife Boy sat up and looked in the direction of the bushes where I was hiding. I took that as a cue that the coast was clear and scrambled out, shaking the dirt and leaves from my limbs. I put my bow away and reached down to help Knife Boy to his feet, but he pushed himself to his feet on his own, pointedly ignoring my offered hand.

"Are you alright?” I asked.

Knife Boy wiped the dirt from his pants.

“I’m fine,” he responded, voice a bit clipped.

I was quiet, unsure of how to address what had just transpired.

“Well, now we’re going to have to go into town for supplies after all,” Knife Boy lamented.

“Why didn’t you hide?” I blurted. Whoops.

“I thought we agreed on no personal questions,” Knife Boy grumbled.

I couldn’t resist the urge to roll my eyes.

“I hardly think that counts as a personal question.”

Knife Boy huffed, “My legs just wouldn’t move, okay? I wasn’t fast enough.”

“A practiced thief not fast enough to move on instinct? I find that hard to believe, if a certain encounter a few days ago is anything to go by.”

“That was different.”

“Why is it any different?”

Knife Boy whirled around, and I immediately regretted prying.

“Because I’m scared of the royal guard, you asshole!” he shouted, fists clenching at his sides and face contorting in rage just inches from mine, though he was a bit shorter than me. The dagger on his belt caught the rays of sunlight peeking through the treetops like a deadly kaleidoscope, and I was suddenly reminded that this kid could kill me if he wanted to.

Knife Boy must have seen this in my eyes, as his expression softened and he took a step back, looking a bit shameful.

“Sorry,” he muttered, looking away. He started walking ahead. “No more questions, please.”

I followed tacitly behind, too stunned to say anything more. Any rapport we had established in our fragile partnership seemed to have crumbled beneath our feet, leaving us both to scramble for higher ground.

 ***

“Okay, here is our mission.”

Knife Boy peeked out over the top of the stone fence surrounding the market square, where vendors were closing up shop for the night as the sun dipped below the horizon. The place was mostly empty, save for a few lingering shopkeepers and a young woman who was lighting the streetlamps in a battle with the dwindling daylight of autumn. Knife Boy scanned the area for a moment before ducking back down, crouching beside me.

“You see that man on the far side of the square?” he whispered conspiratorially. “The one with the baskets of apples?”

I spared a quick glance into the market and nodded.

“I’ll go distract him. You sneak around the other side, and when his back is turned, take the goods, got it?”

 “Got it.” I nodded resolutely. We’d already swiped some scraps from a nearby tavern like before and filled our canteens at the town’s well without incident, so this was going to be easy as raspberry pie.

Knife Boy copied the gesture. “Good. Let’s go.” He stood and waltzed into the market, shoulders held high with undue confidence as he approached the fruit stand. I slipped around the outskirts of the square behind the wall, more or less crawling along the perimeter.

“Good sir! May I ask you some questions?” Knife Boy was saying to the man when I arrived on the other side, voice dripping with faux reverence.

“Why, sure, what for?” the fruit vendor replied, voice firm but not unkind. Briefly, I felt bad about what we were about to do, but if the elegant wool coat draped over his shoulders was any indication, he wasn’t going to miss a few apples.

“Well, as you can see, I am very poor,” Knife Boy lamented sweetly, and I had to suppress a chuckle. “I noticed you were selling such wonderful looking fruit, and I was hoping you could tell me about it. You see, I am hoping to grow my own food.”

The man’s voice softened as he said, “Ah, I see,” before launching into an animated explanation of best growing practices and the proper time to plant and harvest. As he spoke, I reached silently over the wall and grabbed a few apples from the large basket behind the man.

“Uh huh, that’s real interesting,” Knife Boy said with obvious disinterest, eyes wandering to watch my movements.

The man paused. “Kid, what are you looking at?” he asked, and started to turn around.

“Wait!” Knife Boy shouted, drawing the attention of both the fruit vendor and the lamp lighter, who was passing by. The latter looked up and spotted me, still half-splayed over the wall, apples in hand. For a moment, her eyes lit up and I held my breath, but then she merely shook her head with a smile and kept walking.

“What now?” The man was starting to sound exasperated. Seeing an opening, I hoisted myself back down onto the far side of the wall and scrambled back around to the other end of the market.

“Um, uh,” Knife Boy was floundering, and I stood just in time to see him upturn a basket on top of the display stand, turn heel, and run off toward me. As he approached, he waved a hand at me frantically, and I took off in a sprint down the street.

“Hey, get back here, you brats!” the fruit vendor shouted after us, scrambling to chase down the rogue apples rolling through the market square in Knife Boy’s wake. Somewhere behind me, I could hear the young lamp lighter laughing.

Knife Boy and I kept running until we had left the marketplace in our dust, and skidded to a stop in a quiet neighborhood on the edge of town, both of us doubled over and panting.

“What was that?” I teased between ragged breaths.

“Look, I panicked!” Knife Boy responded defensively, equally out of breath. “It’s been a long day, I’m off my game.”

We stared at each other for a moment before we both burst out laughing, our ugly cackles echoing through the empty streets like discordant church bells.

“You should have seen his face when you started running!” I snorted.

Between peals of laughter, Knife Boy mused, “You know, we actually make a pretty good team.”

I could not believe my ears.

“Yeah?”

Knife Boy nodded.

“I still think there’s something messed up about you, and you still kind of freak me out,” he began, which did not set a high bar for the second half of his statement. “But you know what? You’re not so bad.”

The honest smile on Knife Boy’s face belied his seemingly harsh words. In a different life, it occurred to me that maybe we could have even been friends—but an enemy-turned-ally, even if only for a short time, was more than I’d ever expected to find, and more than enough for me. I returned Knife Boy’s smile with one of my own.

I couldn’t help but laugh again.

“You know, I’ll take it.”

[animetrashlord-007]

M.I;; Chapter Six

Word Count;; 1.7k

Genre;; Fluff, Suggestive, Eventual Smut, Slowburn

Pairing;; Oikawa x Ushijima

Side Pairing;; Kuroo x Sugawara

Summary;;

Them boys got beef.

Published;; 08.03.18

Notes;; 

My Masterlist

Mutual Interests Masterlist

   ��What the hell happened?” Suga gasped as soon as the door opened, his concern increasing his impatience.

   Ushijima yawned and rubbed his temples, providing a small shrug as his only response before ushering the small setter inside. Sprawled across the bed on the left side, Oikawa pretended not to notice the others as he glared at the wall with his back toward Kuroo. Kuroo was sound asleep on the other side of the room, his mouth hanging open with a content smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

   “Oikawa-san, what happened?” Suga frowned, taking a step toward Oikawa before halting. The brunet didn’t acknowledge him in the slightest.

   Taking a deep breath to calm himself, irritation seeping into his blood from being ignored (and so obviously - the audacity!), Suga walked over to Kuroo. With the back of his hand placed on the blocker’s forehead, Suga checked his temperature. It was no hotter than usual. Shaking his shoulder, he tried to wake Kuroo but to no avail.

   “Kuroo-san, please, I’m worried.”

   After what felt like an eternity, he gave up and faced Ushijima instead. The ace had slumped down on a chair in the left corner of the room, his tired, blank eyes staring out the window. He didn’t seem to notice Suga waving at him. Dark rings encircled the eyes he was fighting to keep open. He was battling off his need for sleep tooth and nail, and every so often his head would bob as he regained consciousness just as quickly as he lost it.

   “Wakatoshi-san, what happened?” No response. “Are they okay?” A nod. “Can you explain what happened?” No response. “Literally anyone can say anything… Why are you all ignoring me?”

   More silence plagued Suga. No one would look him in the eye. His anxiety started to ebb away as his irritation morphed into anger. It was his concern that led him here and not a single one of them cared. His impatience swelled until he couldn’t hold back any longer. Grabbing a water bottle from the nightstand, he poured the contents onto an unsuspecting Kuroo before throwing the empty bottle at Oikawa.

   “I ASKED YOU A DAMN QUESTION!”

   Eyes snapping open, alarm written plain as day across his features, Kuroo was the first to react. Sitting up straight, he stared at Suga as one would a ghost; complete disbelief with a side of utter terror swirled in his eyes. His usual messy, black hair flopped down and stuck to his face. His bottom lip quivered. Wiping off some of the water with the bed’s linen, he was in state of total shock and couldn’t process what was happening.

   On the other side of the room, Oikawa yelped in indignation. The bottle had hit its target square on, bouncing off the back of Oikawa’s head before falling to the ground. His waves swayed in a quick blur of colour as he swivelled around, eyes narrowed and accusatory. Jabbing a finger toward Suga, his voice rose with every passing word.

   “What the hell was that for?!”

   “Take a guess, you idiot!”

   Tension engulfed the room as the two setters glared at one another, neither willing to yield. Ushijima raised his hand, words of protest on his lips, but decided the energy required to calm either party down was too great and chose to close his eyes and rest instead. Oikawa folded his arms in front of his chest, his eyes trained on Suga’s, but didn’t say anything. The room was silent and still, frozen in time, as everyone waited for the first strike. Taking a step forward, ice-cold fury dripping from his every movement, Suga opened his mouth to speak, every filter torn off with only brutal honesty left behind, he was going to let loose and give them a piece of his mind-

   “I’m soaked!” Kuroo whined, snapping out of his stupor but remaining indifferent to the argument happening mere feets away. He stumbled out of the sterile white bed, knocking over the metal table that stood beside it. It clattered onto the cement floor, two distinct, cold and unforgiving materials clashing against each other. The sound reverberated throughout the entire room, slipping past the ajar door and drifting out the window. A roll of bandages unraveled, rolling across the floor until it hit Suga’s foot.

   It served as a big enough distraction to gain the attention of the setters, both now focusing their scornful gazes on Kuroo. After a quick stretch, Kuroo flashed his usual lopsided grin before collapsing back onto the bed. Oikawa rolled his eyes and threw his hands up in the air, grumbling something along the lines of ‘predictable’.

   Before they had a chance to resume their stare down, the door flung open. A small but stern woman entered, her voice shrill as she turned to each of the boys in turn, punctuating her words with a pointed glare.

   “This is the infirmary, keep your voice down!”

   Suga bowed to the nurse and, unlike his comrade’s mumbled ‘sorries’, his tone was sincere when he said, “We apologise, ma’am.”

   Once the nurse left (after a lengthy lecture about respecting other’s privacy and rest, and instructing them to clean up their mess before they were discharged), all smiles were dropped. Ice gripped the room once more as Suga spoke, his lips pulled into a thin line, tapping his left foot at a rapid pace. “Whatever. Rest for now, but I’ll be back and you best be ready to talk.”

   “Wow, so scary, Mr. Refreshing!” Oikawa pulled a pillow to his chest and pouted, avoiding direct eye contact with the seething setter and his almost tangible aura of rage.

   With that, the door slammed behind Suga as he stormed out of the room, abandoning the helpless situation inside in hope of regaining his sanity. Regardless of how the other’s felt, he considered each to be his friend. When he received the text from Ushijima that a fight had broken out during the night, he wasted no time rushing to check on them. And for what? Suga sighed.

   Making his way to the scene of the crime, he entered the shared dorm of Kuroo and Ushijima. Bed sheets, torn pillows, textbooks and pieces of wood littered the ground. The nightstand that once stood beside Ushijima’s bed was destroyed, presumably after someone fell on it. The shelves on Kuroo’s side of the room had collapsed and while the majority of his chemistry books were on the bed, some had made their way onto the floor and their pages were now crumpled. Suga sighed again.

   It wasn’t his room so he had no reason to clean up after those ungrateful buffoons, but he knew that Ushijima would do the same for him and he’d hate to see that giant try to balance tidying up, repair work, and smoothing over the argument that had led to all this in the first place. An argument Suga didn’t have a scrap of knowledge about. Because no one had the decency to say anything. Not even Ushijima. His knuckles paled under the force of his grip as he picked up the remnants of the nightstand. Sighing with a bit more force, Suga continued his self-appointed project.

   He piled the textbooks onto the bed. He set aside the nightstand and shelves, deciding he didn’t like Kuroo or Ushijima enough to trouble himself with trying to fix their furniture (he wasn’t a handyman, afterall). He stripped both beds down to the mattress and tossed the bedding into the corner before grabbing the spares and refitting the sheets. Grabbing the sewing kit from Ushijima’s emergency supplies, he stuffed as much of the loose feathers and downy he could back into the pillows before sewing them shut and replacing their covers with fresh, clean ones. Once the room was in a somewhat presentable state, he took the bedding to the school’s laundry room and started a load, sending a text to Ushijima with the machine’s number and the approximate time it would finish. Brushing his hands together while trying to shake off his exhaustion, Suga sighed.

   Even though his body was tired from the hard work, his mind was still racing. With his project completed and his mind free of distractions once more, the residual anger from his earlier outburst began to gain traction, growing as he wandered through the campus grounds. How hard would it have been to just say, ‘hey, don’t worry Koushi, we’re fine. We’re just dumb as all hell’? He ran through multiple scenarios in his head, all of which would have been more considerate of his legitimate concerns for their safety and wellbeing, as he stalked down a lush, green hill. When he snapped out of his daze, he was standing on a small, rugged path next to a pond that he didn’t recognise.

   Where the hell am I?

   Suga sighed in resignation.

   There was only one person who could bring him clarity at this point, only one person that could offer him sensibility. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his phone and searched through his contacts. Upon finding Daichi’s number, he shot him a brief text then sat down on the embankment. Minutes trickled by as he waited for a response. It wasn’t until he had given up and allowed his mind to go blank, troubled sleep threatening to swallow him whole, that his phone rang. Sitting up straight and confirming the caller to be Daichi, he answered with a cute greeting, shuddering at how strained he sounded.

   “Sorry, I was studying and didn’t see your message.”

   “Ah, Sawamura. You didn’t have to call. If you’re busy, just text me when you have time.”

   “No, no! You’re the same as always, Koushi. It’s been too long since we’ve talked. Besides, I could really use a break right now.” Suga smiled. Warmth enveloped him as he listened to his long-time friend, fond memories embedded within his voice that pulled Suga back to the summer days spent playing volleyball in the school’s gym, the door open and a cool breeze caressing his heated skin while he set another toss for Asahi as Daichi cheered them on. “How has school been treating you?”

   Daichi reminded him of home, secure and welcoming and permanent, something Suga didn’t realise he was missing, let alone that he needed.

   With a sigh of relief, Suga relaxed and laid back down on the lawn, watching the clouds as they crawled across the vibrant blue sky, all of his worries dissipating as he spoke, “Funny you should ask, that’s exactly why I contacted you…”

[nemo1230]

Quite unexpected turn of events

Eddie's head was pounding, and he felt like absolute shit. Also for some reason his wrist burned a little. With a lot of effort he opened his eyes, letting the bright morning rays of sun reach his eyes. It stung and he groaned. He turned his head to the side, glancing at the clock standing on the nightstand. Turns out these definitely weren't morning rays of sun but the middle of the day sun rays. This was unusual for him, since he liked to wake up early. But after the whole mess with regaining memories worth 27 years and fighting a demonic clown, he was exhausted, so these past days he did find himself sleeping in quite often. So, that wasn't the odd part about this whole situation.

What was weird, however, was the fact that he felt like he had threw up in his own mouth or something and the annoying ache in his head. But that's how he sometimes felt after a practically bad nightmare, which he had pretty often now. But the thing is, he hadn't had a nightmare, he had actually slept quite well. Also, the weird burning on his wrist was announcing it's presence once again, so he tried to lift his arm to see what the hell is up with it, to be met with the fact that he was unable to move his arm. The reason? The owner of birds nest of hair, huge glasses and most handsome face Eddie had ever seen, laying and drooling right over it. Ah, Richie.

Wait.

Richie as in the very Richie Tozier, his best friend, that he had had a crush on for practically his whole life, was in the same bed with him, cuddling with him? What in the name of god-

Suddenly a very paralyzing thought hit Eddie - had they slept together?! No, that couldn't be, they still had their clothes on, thank god. Not that he didn't want to sleep with Richie, he just simply wanted to remember sleeping with Richie.

Because right now he couldn't properly remember anything. Everything about last night seemed fuzzy, parts of the evening came back him, but he couldn't really piece them together.

He just knew that after defeating Pennywise the losers had left Derry and started to rebuild their lives. Eddie called Mayra and had had probably the most uncomfortable and unpleasant conversation in his entire life, requesting a divorce. He remembers a lot of screaming on her end and a lot of apologizing on his. After that he had went with Richie to LA. A rather harsh and fast decision for his tastes, but then again, after barely escaping death he now felt more at ease, more free, more willing to let go ,to just say fuck it, to not deny himself the things he wanted.

So yeah, he and Richie have been living together for about a month now. One evening they had decided it would be a great idea to invite all the other losers for a sleepover to Richie's apartment.

And it really would have been all fun and games if they wouldn't have gotten drunk out of their minds. But they did, so here Eddie was, left with no memory of last night, a pounding head, and Richie curled up right next to him.

Speaking of the devil, Richie snorted in his sleep, but then groaned and stretched out like a cat, then turned around to face Eddie, eyes still closed. Eddie held his breath while he watched the scene unravel, waiting for the moment Richie would finally come to his senses, probably apologize for falling asleep on him, even though this is his room, because no matter what, he still was a gentleman, and they'd never speak of this incident again.

What happened, however, was not exactly that. Richie opened his eyes, looked at Eddie, flashed him a crooked smile, leaned forward and pecked him right on the lips.

''Mornin', babe.''

Eddie eyes widened and he froze, unable to form a coherent thought. What the hell-

Eddies unresponsiveness finally made Richie register what he had just done. His eyes widened aswell and his mouth hung open, trying to say something, but no sound came out.

They simply stared at each other for a while, probably looking dumb as fuck, until Richie scrambled out of the bed, tripping over the sheets, and run out of the room, murmuring something about needing to take a shower, cheeks red.

Eddies own cheeks were warming up, and his lips felt like they were on fire.

He still tried to recover from what just happened when he heard voices from outside the room. Right, the rest of the losers were still here. Whatever had happened last night, he knew it must be something embarrassing, it always was, and he could already feel the teasing coming. But he had to get out of the room at some point, because his stomach was protesting loudly about the lack of food in him.

Eddie got out of the bed, smoothed out his clothes, run his hand trough his hair, a quite bad attempt to smooth it out, took  a deep breath and pushed the door open.

He was met with bright sunlight and quite the chaos of Richie's living room. Cups and plastic plates were thrown everywhere, as well as pieces of popcorn and m&ms. There were also empty bottles of alcohol and pizza boxes. Eddie scrunched up his nose at the mess and walked trough, heading towards the kitchen, to get a glass of water, hoping to slip past his friends unnoticed, because, okay, maybe he didn't want to face them just yet.

But just as about anything in his life, that didn't work out because a voice stopped him in his tracks.

''Look who's finally up! Eddie, sweetheart, how are you feeling?''

It was Beverly, who was currently tying her hair into a tiny ponytail. She looked just fine, like she hadn't had gotten wasted with them just a few hours prior. She was always the one who took alcohol the best. She also had a mischievous grin on her face that never meant anything good. Oh, lord, help him please.

''Morning, Bev, just peachy, and you? '' He replied, doing an over enthusiastic voice.

''Awh, Eddie, you truly are the lightweight of this family.'' she said, smirking.

''Well, to be fair him and Richie last n-'' Ben, who was currently trying to pick up all the plastic cups off the floor started, but was cut off by Richie entering the living room.

''Sup, hoes, how are we feeling this fine morning?!'' He exclaimed rather loudly. His dark curls were damp from the shower and he had changed into some sweatpants and a sweater. He looked way too good for a 40 year old man, in Eddie's opinion.

Bev completely ignored Richies question, her smirk only growing wider, and said, ''Well, well, well, look who it is. Finally both of the lovebirds have left their love lair, to join us peasants, who clearly aren't worth your time!'' Her voice held no anger, just pure smugness, like she just proved a point, eyes darting from Richie to Eddie and then back.

Richie let out a bark of laughter but Eddie saw a flash of fear in his eyes, but he quickly recovered. ''Bev, honey, what the hell are you talking about? Are you still drunk because – ''

Bev was quick to cut him off, ''Oh, don't play dumb, Rich, you know full well what I'm talking about.''

Eddie saw the rest of the losers trying to hide their laughter, barely holding it in. Expect Stan, who was looking at something on his phone, looking absolutely unbothered by the whole situation.

''No, I actually don't, what is going on, guys?'' Now Richie really did sound confused.

Beverly was about to say something else, when Mike gently interrupted, ''Bev, I think they genuinely don't know,'' he said sympathetically, all the while hiding a smile of his own.

''No, we don't, so would you like to elaborate? '' Eddie finally spoke, dread already setting in his stomach. Whatever had happened last night, the rest of their friends are not going to let them live this down, that's for sure.

Beverly turned to Stan saying, ''Stan, would you like to do the honors?''

Stan then looked up from his phone, fixed Eddie and Richie with an unimpressed look and cleared his throat. ''Gladly. So, as we all remember, Richie and Eddie invited us all to this lovely gathering, completely unsuspecting of the ordeals that would later take place. We all got here, talked, drunk a few glasses of wine and then, this man right here, '' he then gestured to Richie, ''comes up with the brilliant idea, that we should play some games. We decided on truth or dare. So, a lot of stupid dares and alcohol later, it was Richie's turn to choose, truth or dare. He had chosen dare. Ben, here, '' he then gestured to Ben for emphasis, ''came up with this wonderful dare – sing karaoke with one other person of your choice. And that they had to sing whichever song came on next on the radio. So, I think we all can guess which person he chose, but if anybody else here is suffering a memory loss, then he chose Eddie. Eddie, being quite intoxicated himself had agreed. The song they had to sing turned out to be Africa by TOTO. The performance, well, wasn't too great, but we all could feel the intense emotions behind it, so I'd give it a solid 7 out of 10. Anyways, by the end of the song, these two lovely gentlemen shared quite the moment, staring intensely into each others eyes for approximately minute and a half. We all thought a kiss was coming, I personally was about to ask everyone to hand over their money to me, but then suddenly an unexpected turn of events occurred. Richie, while still staring into Eddies eyes loudly exclaimed an offer – and I quote – ''do you want to get matching tattoos'', to which Eddie replied and I quote - ''absolutely''. Then they both hurried to grab their coats, and Richie tried to grab his car keys, to which Eddie screamed –''no, we're both drunk!'', to which Richie replied ''aw shit! '', and then came Eddies reply – ''call a taxi dumbass!''. And that was that.  All of us were shocked to the core, unable to make sense of this sudden occurrence. When the shock wore off, we decided to check on you two. At first, none of you answered your phones, but then, when logging onto social media we quite quickly learned that you two are just fine. On Instagram Richie had posted these pictures,'' the he proceeded to quickly tap something on his phone and then held it up. On the screen, he had opened Richies instagram account and a picture in which Eddie could be seen in the taxi, laughing at something. Then, when everyone had looked at the picture, Stan swiped left, revealing a second picture in which him and Eddie were holding up their intertwined hands, Eddie showing a peace sign with this free hand, both looking absolutely wasted. But the worst part was the caption, which read ''lmao i want to climb him like a tree'' with a tree emoji and the rain/water drop emoji, which in its whole history had never been used to describe rain or water. Eddie was pretty sure his cheeks had never felt this hot in his entire life.

Richie was about to say something, but then Stan snatched the phone away, held up his finger, silencing him and continued, '' Anyway, after that we knew you two were completely fine, aswell as I could finally successfully collect the money we all bet on you two. However, unfortunately that's not where it ended. Later, we went on Twitter and noticed that Richie had tweeted and I quote - ''yoo bitches heres some tea i have the big homo for eddie spagethii oof sksks'' and then made several other tweets which only contained Eddies Twitter handle. Eddie had replied with only Richies twitter handle. I think that's all. Oh wait, right, Richie commented on all of Eddies Instagram posts with things like 'damn daddy' or 'what a piece of ass' '',Stan said while doing air quotes. ''Okay, I think that would be all.''

Finally, after Stans dramatic summery of their last nights adventures, the memories finally came back. The singing, the posting all those dumb things, the kissing on street, kissing at the back of a taxi, kissing, kissing… Eddie had never been this embarrassed in this life. He already predicted that whatever they had done last night would be bad, but not this much.

Even Richie seemed at loss of words. His eyes were wide and even his cheeks were in a blushing shade of pink.

''I tweeted that?!'' He then shouted.

''And got it trending,'' Stan replied, pointing at him.

''And got it trending?!'' Richie repeated, still screaming.

Now, that the bomb had been dropped, the rest of the losers stopped trying to hold back their laughter.

Richie and Eddie then shared a hopeless look. Richie snorted and Eddie did too and held his hand over his mouth. Richie crossed the room, coming to stand next to Eddie.

''Well, those really are some unexpected turns of events, Eds. '' He said, a sweet smile now decorating his face.

Eddie signed, ''I've never been more embarrassed in my life.''

''Looks like I didnt even do anything wrong when we woke up, '' he smirked, '' Also, while I must admit that this was not how I imagined confessing my feelings to you, I am happy that I did anyway.'' He said, slowly reaching for Eddies hand.

Eddie took it, and intertwined their fingers. ''Yeah, me too.. '' Then a sudden itch on his wrist reminded him of something. He quickly let go of Richies hand and pushed up the sleeve of his sweater.  

There, on his skin, now lay R+E in simple writing and black ink. He simply started at the letters until Richie pushed his own wrist next to his. He had the same simple letters, only in switched places – E+R.

Eddie looked at the tattoos and was surprised that he didn't regret it. Even though they had gotten them while being completely wasted, he still felt no shame, no regret about that. He smiled and looked up, into Richies eyes. ''They're kinda cute. ''

''You think so? I was thinking maybe I could add '+ Eddie's mom' -''

Eddie only rolled his eyes. ''Beep-beep Richie.'' He then signed and intertwined their hands once again and leaned into his side.

The embarrassment was still burning a hole in him, but despite it all, he felt content. For the first time in so long, he felt good.

[danganronpa-tng]

Chapter 5 - The Trial Of Kamron Naegi

*Trigger Warning; brief mention of hanging later in the trial. Read at your own discretion*

- - -

Kamron was found collapsed out in the hallway of the dormitory corridor. He had a couple of bruises on barely visible areas, such ad his stomach or legs. His sunglasses were missing. Due to the fact four people encountered the body at the same time, one out of the four could still be a suspect, hkwever this is not certain.

Cause of death was blood loss. He was found with his right hand severed, laying several feet away from him. The weapon used to sever the hand is unknown, but the cut makes it look like a sharp blade. There were clear signs of a struggle, including blood splatters in the middle of the hallway. It seems he was propped up against the wall rather than collapsing against it.

The victim was killed at approximately 1PM. He was discovered at approximately 9AM that day.

- - -

“So, he died at 1AM?”

“Yep... anything on your mind, Sara?”

“Huh? Oh, nothing really. I just find it odd he was still fully clothed at 1AM, that’s all. Well, bar his sunglasses, but you know.”

“That’s true, actually... thanks, Sara!”

“Anytime! Good luck.”

- - -

“I-I can’t believe this... Kamron... as s-soon as I learn we’re related...”

“Hey, hey Kass... it’s gonna be OK. We’re gonna find his killer, no matter what! Ok?”

“Yeah... yeah, I know you can. We all can. I just can’t let this slide. Someone’s- someone’s gonna pay!”

“Right.”

- - -

“Greetings, Hayden.”

“Oh, Katelyn! You ok? You look panicked.”

She’s smoothing out her clothes and panting.

“No, not panicked per say... more so, kind of nervous. I was chatting to Aspen last night, and we talked about how we were sure nobody else would be killed from now on... I suppose we were wrong.”

“Oh...”

“Anyways, I did my usual check to the weapons room, as I tend to do.”

“And?”

“I, surprisingly didn't see anything out of place. Nobody had moved anything since the masquerade.”

“Really? That’s odd... anyways, thanks Katelyn.”

“Anytime. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

- - -

“M-morning, Aeja...”

“Hello, Hayden. Apologies for my message earlier, please disregard it.”

“Huh? I mean, we can still talk if you want-”

“No, it’s quite alright. Now, what did you come over here for?”

“Ah, well, I just wanted to see what evidence you had.”

“Is that it? Hm. Well then, all I’ve found so far isn’t properly solid evidence, but I noticed that almost everyone came out of their room in their pyjamas, as you can see. However, three people didn’t. Aspen, Katelyn and Estrella. Not proper evidence.”

“Well, it’s still worth noting! Thanks, Aeja.”

“You’re welcome. Now, please leave me be. I’m thinking.”

“Ah. Ok.”

- - -

“Estrella-?”

“Hm? Hmm? Is that a voice? No, must have been the wind.”

“Estrella-”

“Oh, there it is again! It sure is drafty in here.”

“Estrella please, I just wanna talk about evi-”

“Ugh, a leader as supreme as me shouldn't be putting up with a cold room. I’ll be taking my leave now.”

“Wait-! Aaaaaaaand she’s gone.”

- - -

“Hm? Vera? Oh, you can write it down. Cool.”

Yes. Well, I was just wondering, has anyone checked the kitchen to see if all the knives are still there? It might be a worthy idea.

“Oh, no actually! I didn’t even think of that. Thanks, Vera!”

- - -

The Trial

- - -

“So, does anyone have a solid alibi?”

“For 1AM?”

“Ah... fair point. So let me rephrase that; was anybody in someone else’s dorm last night? As in, sleeping over?”

Yes, I was staying in Sara’s room last night.

“Ah, ok! So, we can pretty safely assume those two are clear then.”

“Nice! Thanks, Vera!”

“Was anyone else with another person? For any amount of time?”

I looked over at Estrella and Aeja. They were looking anywhere but at each other, avoiding eye contact like it was the Black Plague. I pitied the two. I debated whether or not I should admit I saw them. But before I could, the conversation topic changed.

- - -

“So, I don’t suppose anyone checked the weaponry room, did they?”

“Yes, I did, in fact.”

“Oh! See anything, Katelyn?”

“No, actually. Nothing was out of place, so it seems nothing has moved since our last investigation.”

“Oh, that’s odd...”

“...hey, Vera? Didn't you say you thought about checking the kitchen?”

She nods.

“Did you get a chance to?”

She nodded again, starting to write. I suppose writing is easier then having everything translated.

Yes. One knife was in the rack still, but bloodied, so we can assume a kitchen knife is what severed his hand. And I also noticed a glass while I was there, one that still had ice in it. Which means...

“Someone only put it back this morning?”

She nods.

- - -

“Estrella, you’ve been pretty quiet.”

“Hm? Oh, sorry. I just didn’t feel like wasting my breath on you.”

“Wow, rude.”

“Really? Quite honestly Sara, I hadn’t cared to notice.”

“What’s up with you? You’ve been in a pretty good mood since the whole-”

“Yeah, well, things change, People change. Or rather, they don’t. See, I was trying to be a but nicer, but after a certain incident I realised that- well, who am I kidding? I’ve built this role for myself, and I’m never gonna be able to shake it off, so might as well live up to it.”

She folds her arms.

“I’m the evil leader that’s only here to confuse and irritate people. I’m the walking embodiment of a bad joke! So, if you plan on figuring out who stabbed Spy Kid over there, I suggest you shut the fuck up and keep going with the trial.”

Sara just looked away, slightly disheartened.

“I thought we’d become friends now... Aren’t we friends?”

“Do you really want to be friends with someone like me?”

- - -

“Well, let’s get back to alibis, since we don’t have much to go off. Where was everyone? Alone, or with someone else?”

“I- like I said earlier, I was with Vera.”

“Right. Karma?”

“I was alone. I stayed up a bit late though, so I only woke up when the body announcement went off.”

“Ok. Kassidy?”

“I-I said goodbye to Kamron and then went back to my room... I went asleep pretty quickly.”

“Alright. Katelyn?”

“Unlike almost everyone here, I have an alibi. I stayed in Aspen’s room last night, then went back to mine and got changed. I was up before the announcement, so-”

“Wait a sec.”

“Hm? Something wrong, Aspen?”

“Katelyn... you never came to my room last night.”

- - -

“Katelyn..? Care to defend yourself?”

“Wh- oh, shut up, copycat. Have you not even considered your dear girlfriend over there? You should have seen her face when we saw the body! She didn’t even look surprised, she looked like she already knew! She-”

“That’s because I did.”

“...what?”

“Estrella, what do you mean by-?”

“Isn't it obvious, Mr No Talent? I saw the murder happen. I was on my way back to my room when I heard a fight, so I went to check it out, and... well, I simply decided to not give him a hand, haha!”

“Really?! You're serious?”

“Most likely.”

“Well, who did it?”

“I thought that was obvious, too. I decided not to tell you because I’m pissed off! I’m a petty bitch, as you know, and as such I decided to let this play out.”

“Estrella, stop being childish-”

“DON’T talk to me about childish, Aeja! I’m not the one who tried to hang them self when they got scared!”

The room fell horribly silent. Aeja looked away, and Estrella reached up to her own cheek, where her cut was. Something started to click into place.

“Wait, Aeja tried to-”

“Fine then, Estrella. If you're going to be like that, shut up and dont disrupt this trial. This isn't about our business, it’s about finding Kamron’s killer. So, now that we’re back on topic and abandoning that last conversation... Katelyn? Aspen?”

Aspen looked at Katelyn, who didn’t meet his eyes.

“K-Katelyn? Kate? Please, please tell me you just got mixed up. You got mixed up, right? Yeah. Yeah!”

“...Aspen.”

“...no. No, no, no, please don’t say it.”

- - -

“Why? Why did you do it, Katelyn?”

“I- Hayden. You have to understand, I hold my parents in... very high regard. He was insulting them, insulting me! I-I couldn’t just let that stand. I got mad, so I- I got a knife from the kitchen and went back, just to threaten him! I never planned on actually hurting him... but I guess he panicked, and he lunged at me. So I panicked, and- I accidentally-”

“...chopped his hand off.”

“...If I could go back in time, I would change what I did. But, it’s in the past now. I... this shouldn't have happened, I know.”

“...you can’t be serious, right Katelyn? Right?! It was Estrella. Yeah, it was! You’re just covering for her because- because- you don't wanna watch the same execution again!”

“...no.”

“...this doesn’t compute. There’s something wrong here, right? RIGHT?!”

- - -

“Well, Hayden, I do not wish to put up a fight. Care to unravel this case?”

That quickly? Hm...

“Ok. This- *sigh*.”

This all starts... Last night, I believe. The killer was out in the corridor with Kamron, with whom they hadn't interacted, until the killer made some off-handed comment about their parents, which caught Kamron’s attention. He started talking about the parents of the other participants, including the killer’s. They seemed to have a particular distaste for their parents, particularly their deceased father, for reasons unknown, as they started to slander them, insulting them and the killer. The killer, enraged by this, leaves Kamron there and goes to the kitchen. They grab a knife, which they must have thought was blunt, to threaten him. However, when they got there, Kamron saw the weapon in their hand and panicked. They tried to lunge for the killer, but was swiftly cut off- literally- as the killer also panics and swings the knife with unusual force. This blow, to their dismay, manages to cut off Kamron’s hand. He stumbles backwards and collapsed, bleeding out. The killer, panicking, returns to their room. They stash the weapon and go straight to bed, trying to act natural. 

They wake up slightly earlier than everyone else to hide the evidence. They wake up a bit too late though, and don't have as much time as they thought to clean the weapon. They simply slip it back into the knife rack and grab a quick drink, before heading back to their room. Five minutes later, they hear me scream and run outside, ‘finding’ the body along with me and two others.

That’s what happened, and our killer is...

Katelyn Momota, the Ultimate Psychiatrist!

“...it sounds so horrible when it’s repeated back to me. But, I must face the facts. I’m-”

- - -

*mumbling*

“Aspen? Did you say somethi-”

“WHAT DID YOU DO?!”

“ ! ”

“I told you not to get mad! I told you not to hurt anyone, and look what you did! You’ve... you’ve gone and killed someone, and now I’m going to lose you. I’m gonna lose you, Katelyn!”

“Aspen... Aspen, no. You can’t be upset over me, ok? I’m a killer now. I’m a bad person here.”

“No you’re not! I don’t care what you’ve done, you’re still special to me! I-I can’t lose you! Please don’t go... please...”

Aspen was doubled over on himself, and... I think he was crying oil? 

“I didn’t know the robot could cry-”

“Shut up, Estrella.”

Katelyn looked genuinely confused and concerned. She shook her head.

“No, you... you’re not supposed to be upset over me. You... you shouldn’t be upset over me. You can’t.”

Aspen and Katelyn finally locked eyes. Neither said anything for a moment. Eventually, Katelyn sighed.

“I... I know there is no escaping my fate. But... I wish to do one more thing before I am killed. Monokuma, may I? I will make no attempt to escape.”

Monokuma shrugged.

“Sure, knock yourself out. ...wait, what are you doing?”

And suddenly, Katelyn was running. Not to the exit, not to Aspen, but to...

“...Eh-?! GAH-!”

Katelyn was on her knees either side of a now toppled over Estrella, with her hands around Estrella’s neck. Estrella was grabbing at Katelyn’s Arms, trying to free herself. She was being strangled.

“You BITCH! I should have wasted my damn murder on you!”

“KATELYN!”

“ESTRELLA!”

Two people ran over; Aspen and Aeja. Aeja reached them first, full on jumping at Katelyn and pushing her off Estrella. Aspen helped Estrella sit up, the girl in question being purple in the face and gasping for air. Aeja had Katelyn pinned by her wrists.

“Hah... hah...” 

Estrella looked over at the girls, panting. She looked between them, and I couldn't tell which person confused her more. She nodded at Aspen, trying to stand herself up.

“Katelyn... the fuck?!”

“You... you know what you did to me, you bitch!”

After a moment, Estrella took a deep breath and grinned, placing her arms behind her head.

“Of course I do! And I don’t regret it either, you know. I’m glad I did!”

Katelyn literally growled, and suddenly she shoved Aeja off her, standing up. Estrella jumped a bit, backing up. Aeja looked at Monokuma.

“Monokuma- MONOKUMA!”

Even Monokuma looked surprised at the whole outburst, but he quickly resumed normal behaviour.

“I have a very special punishment for Katelyn Momota, Ultimate Psychiatr- SHIT-!”

With Katelyn quickly approaching Aspen, Monokuma slammed his hammer down on his button.

“Wait- Katelyn!”

[pearwaldorf]

Digging through some old work and found some stuff I'm not going to finish. This was supposed to be the start of a Portia and Nadia origin story, then a Portia/Nadia and maybe Portia/Nadia/female Apprentice thing. I got waylaid by other stuff/fandoms and then lost interest entirely when I heard the new routes aren't as good as the original three, which I still dearly love (even Julian's, although it took me a real long time to get into it).

Anyways. Here's approximately 2K words of Portia coming to the Palace in Vesuvia.

--

The Chamberlain is short, even tinier than Grandmama Rucha. I can hear their legs kicking against the chair as they read the letter of introduction I’ve presented to them. I’m not sure why I’d need something like this to be a chambermaid, even in a palace, but Auntie Lera insisted, because that’s the way they do things in Vesuvia. I deferred to her judgment since, unlike Ilya, I haven’t traveled far and wide. In fact, this is the first time I’ve been outside Nevivon.

“Everything looks to be in order.” The Chamberlain folds the letter back up, tucks it into their breast pocket. They come out from behind the desk and extend their hand. “Welcome to the Palace, Ms. Portia.”

“Oh! Thank you!” I shake their hand, trying not to loom as I do so.

They lead me out of their office, motioning to someone waiting outside nearby. I think he’s a guard or something, but off duty. He’s tall, lanky, and pale, with long dark hair he keeps tied back in a ponytail.

“Ludovico will show you to your room, get you oriented to the Palace,” the Chamberlain tells me. “Now if you will excuse me, I have other duties to attend to.” Ludovico nods, and the Chamberlain bustles off down the hall.

“Can I take your bag?” Ludovico asks.

I shake my head. “Thank you, but I’ve got it. Besides, Pepi gets anxious in new places. I’d much prefer to be close to her.” At the sound of her name, Pepi raises her head out of the bag’s opening and makes an inquiring Mrr?

“Oh! Hello.” Ludovico presents his fingers for Pepi to sniff, which she does. “That’s some unusual coloring, with the pale fur and the dark tips. Never seen a cat like this before.”

“Interesting. Cats that look like Pepi are all over Nevivon.”

“Nevivon, eh?” Ludovico becomes more… alert after I mention it. “We had a doctor that came from there, few years ago.”

“Oh?” I keep my tone neutral, hoping that none of the nervousness I feel comes through.

“This was during the bad years, when the plague was running through the city.” He looks at me, trying to ascertain if he needs to explain more.

“News of the plague made it even to Nevivon. We heard it was bad.”

“‘Twas. Not a family in Vesuvia was untouched. Even got the Count, although that’s not what killed him in the end.”

“How did he die, then?” I’d heard the Count of Vesuvia had died, but not that it was of unnatural causes.

“During the Masquerade, it was. The courtiers went to fetch Lord Lucio from his wing, and his bedroom was on fire.” Ludovico frowns, recalling. “Witnesses say they saw the good doctor fleeing the scene of the crime.”

I scratch Pepi’s head so I don’t have to respond immediately. Ilya couldn’t hurt a fly, but how many doctors from Nevivon would have been in Vesuvia during the plague? If he had killed someone, it must have been for a good reason. Unless he’s changed drastically since I saw him last.

I think back to the letters he sent from Vesuvia. Most of them were hastily written, sloppy penmanship even for him. He never mentioned anything about the Count, or the work he was doing at the Palace.

“Well, we’re here.” Ludovico stops in front of a set of rooms and opens the door. A stout woman with red hair lounges on one of the beds, looking up when we come in.

“This is Bludmila, my guard partner.” I nod, and Bludmila looks ready to get up to greet me, until she sees Pepi.

“I’m sorry to do this even before I’ve learned your name, but I am horribly allergic to cats.” Her eyes are already starting to water, and she looks like she’s holding back a storm of sneezes.

It’s obvious Pepi and I can’t stay here, and I step outside. There must be another room we can have, somewhere in this palace. During our walk through the hallways, our footsteps echoed against empty everything. I expected a palace to bustle, not wait expectantly to be filled with people and activity.

“I should have thought about the cat. That was my oversight.” Ludovico looks embarrassed and sheepish.

“So where will we live?” I peer up at Ludovico, hoping he has a solution.

He taps his finger against his mouth, thinking. “I’ve got just the place. It’s a bit far out, but it’s nice. You game?”

“Sure?” We traipse through the palace grounds, past the gardens, a hedge maze and a grand fountain next to an old willow tree. Some of these I recognize from Ilya’s letters. At the end of a dirt road, there is a clearing with a small cottage.

Ludovico digs through his pockets and unlocks the door with an old iron key. “Take a look,” he says as he gestures me in.

It’s modest but looks well lived-in. The window in front is large, catching the morning and afternoon light. There is a tall, brightly decorated ceramic stove in the corner, intended for both heating and cooking, and a bedroom area beyond that. Looking outside, there are the remains of a garden on the side of the cottage, now gone to seed. With some work, this could be a comfortable home.

I drop my bag and Pepi steps out of it, sniffing around curiously. She finds the bed and jumps on it, walking around until she finds a comfortable spot. She lays down and starts grooming herself, paying no heed to me or Ludovico.

“Looks like at least one of you likes it.” He tilts his head inquisitively, holding out the key.

“Is this-- is this allowed?” This seems very extravagant for a mere chambermaid.

Ludovico shrugs. “One thing I’ve learned here is below a certain level, nobody pays attention to what goes on. ‘S long as food gets cooked, people show up for their guard shifts, them that think they’re important don’t look too close.”

“All right.” I take the key, and he grins.

“I’ll get out of your hair, let you settle in,” he says, making his way towards the door. Before he leaves, he stops and turns around. “I almost forgot to say. Welcome to Vesuvia.”

I lay down on the bed, trying not to disturb Pepi. There are definitely worse ways to end the first day in a new place. It’s the last thought I have before falling asleep.

--

I make my way to where I’ve been told the Countess’s rooms are, unsure of what I will find. The light streams in from windows draped in filmy cloth, enough to obscure the view from outside. In the middle of the room is a bed, with coverings descending from the ceiling all the way down to the floor.

Somebody is sleeping in it, a woman. She has high cheekbones and brown skin. Her purple hair tumbles around her, shading into cool violet. She is one of the most beautiful people I’ve ever seen in my life, and it takes me a moment to catch my breath.

If these are the Countess’s rooms, this must be Countess Nadia. I had not anticipated working around her in this fashion. There isn’t much I can do about the bed while she’s in it, but I can take care of the rest of her rooms. I tie my hair up and get to work.

I’m about done with everything but the main chamber when the lunch bell tolls. I follow the crowds to the servants’ dining room. The food isn’t fancy, but it’s well-made and filling. I see Ludovico and Bludmila at a table, and they motion me over.

Bludmila presents a vase of flowers from under her chair. “For your new home. I’m sorry about being so rude yesterday. But I am very very allergic.”

“Thank you.” I pull the flowers closer. I don’t know what they are, but they have tight, circular clusters of petals and smell of spices.

“How was your first day?” Ludovico asks.

“Aside from the sleeping Countess, surprisingly uneventful. Is she a night owl?”

Bludmila and Ludovico look at each other. “Not exactly?” Bludmila says.

Ludovico picks up the thread. “Countess Nadia fell into a deep sleep after the last Masquerade. At first, it was thought related to the shock of Count Lucio’s murder, but it’s been almost a year and a half.”

“And nothing will wake her up?”

Bludmila shakes her head. “Nothing. She doesn’t waste away or require food and water, so it must be magic of some kind.”

“Maybe she’s waiting for true love’s kiss,” I joke. “We should get some frogs from the woods.”

“If the Court gets desperate enough, I wouldn’t be surprised,” Ludovico says.

Lunch is over, and I get back to my work. In the lull of the afternoon, the palace and the Countess’s chambers are quiet; if I am still, I can hear the rise and fall of her breath. As I take care of the main room, I wonder what she is like when she’s awake. Is she haughty and arrogant? Wry and sarcastic? Or is she kind and compassionate?

When I am done with my cleaning, I go back to look at the Countess. Feeling a little foolish, I clear my throat. “Hello, Countess. Milady. My name is Portia. I’m here to take care of your rooms. Any time you’d like to wake up, please do.”

I wait for a few moments. Nothing appears to have changed. I let myself out and close the door.

--

My life settles into a rhythm at the palace. I do my work, and I get to know the other servants better. JENGA

One day, I see a figure sitting next to the Countess’s bed. They notice my approach. They wear a shawl that does not quite cover their hair, red with lines of grey. Astute violet eyes look me over, measuring but not judging.

“Hello there,” they say. “What is your name?”

“Portia. And you are...?” I end my introduction with an inquiry.

“This is why I hate titles,” they say. “Nazali Satrinava. Please, call me Nazali.” They extend their hand, and I shake it. Their grip is strong, fingers callused from work with delicate implements.

“Please, come sit down next to me.” I sit on the other end of the bench Nazali has been occupying.

“You are the Countess’s sibling?” I ask. There is a definite familial resemblance to Nazali. I had not known the Countess had siblings, but then again, I knew very little about anything in Vesuvia before I came here.

“I am.” Nazali’s eyes cloud with worry. “I came to visit after not hearing from her for a while and discovered her in this state. I am told she has been like this for two years.”

I nod. “Do you know how is this possible?”

Nazali shrugs. “The interaction between magic and biology is difficult to trace sometimes. Something happened that was the impetus for her falling into a deep sleep.” They brush a strand of hair away from Nadia’s face where it has fallen. “All we can do is wait for her to wake up.”

They look at me. “Can I count on you to help take care of my sister, Portia?”

I have no experience in such things. But if I don’t do it, who will? I nod, and Nazali beams.

“Splendid. I will teach you everything you need to know. You must write to me the moment she wakes.”

“That... might be a problem.”

They stop short. “Ah yes. I keep forgetting things here are not like Prakra, where every resident learns to read and write. We shall also get started on that process. Let us begin.”

--

My days are filled with instruction from Nazali, in both reading and writing and how to properly care for a perpetually sleeping patient. They explain some of the theory behind both, and I don’t understand all of it, but enough that I understand why things are done in that particular manner. It is hard work, but gratifying, especially when Nazali smiles and says I am doing well.

Bludmila comes to visit me outside of my cottage when I’m tending to my garden. “Haven’t seen you much lately. How’s it going?”

I wipe the sweat from my forehead. “I’m busy. But I’m learning how to take care of the Countess, and that’s what’s important.”

She smiles. “I’m glad. It seems to give you a sense of purpose. Not that you’re bad at doing anything, but there’s a care and attention you give to it that’s different from everything else. She needs more people like you around her.”