#I’m like. an hour from LA so no fire over here but it’s so awful

[golddplatedd]

wind has finally slowed down over here!! I hope they’re able to do more to put the fires out now :/

[fandomfluffandfuck]

Okay, so I’m not even an Evanstan person, but I went to SDCC this week and just flew out of San Diego. When the plane was moving out to the runway, I noticed an area with smaller planes, which mostly seemed like private jets (presumably at least some for the celebrities/wealthy people visiting the convention).

And I couldn’t stop thinking about Chris or Seb inviting the other on a flight back to LA, using the excuse that they don’t want to be alone and it’s easier, but they make sure that the pilot is the only one aboard and join the mile high club. 👀

Specifically about Chris getting on his knees for his boy, reminding him that they only have 15-20 minutes and he’s got to stay quiet. It just felt right up your alley, so if this prompt inspires anything, I’d love to hear it!!

related to Seb at SDCC, and them together at the Hollywood Walk of Fame

also, you'll probably enjoy this little fic

Lmao, I love that the evanstan reunion has so much power that it's roped you in, too. Also, aw, you're so lucky! I hope SDCC was good (even though it's been a long time since then by now 😅)!

But, oof, yeah, I can always think about Chris on his knees for Sebastian--a mile high in the air or otherwise 😮‍💨

Sebastian flew in late, late on the 24th in preparation for the Hollywood Walk of Fame ceremony for Kevin, so Chris didn't have the time to see him until the day of the ceremony, the 25th, and just those few hours of knowing his man was in the close vicinity to his LA home was--not to be dramatic, but--torturous.

And then seeing him for the first time in months among cameras and crowds, with the least amount of privacy possible-? That, too, was torturous. It was all he could do to reel himself in against leaning in for a much too long hug and I-missed-you-like-a-drowning-man-misses-air kiss. Considering how he felt internally? His clapping and dorky grin was "all too obvious," according to both Sebastian's (in-person) and Anthony's (over text after the videos circulated and broke Twitter) teasing? That was chill. As chill as he could've been. Calm. Collected even.

Still, no matter the few days to themselves between their Hollywood Walk of Fame obligation and Sebastian's needed appearance at Comic Con on the 27th for Marvel, Chris has not had enough time to acclimate to his boyfriend being close enough to touch. Life size and physical, not seen through a screen.

So, can he be blamed for watching how Seb bounces his leg on their private plane, always at least a little nervous about flying, and thinking nothing but terrible, inappropriate things about how to calm him down? All of his ideas are physical and incredibly touchy.

Chris doesn't think he can be blamed. And he's not going to ask for a second opinion, at least, not until after Sebastian's brain has put itself back in working, non-melted order once he's gotten scrambled. It doesn't matter that they're flying back to Chris' LA home for more private, alone time. Nah. That's not important. What is important is that Seb is right here, and he's practically vibrating with nervous energy, and Chris is just a man.

A man who's missed his man badly.

Plan formed and mind made up, wicked, Chris oh-so casually fishes his phone from his pocket, unlocks it, and navigates to the clock app and setting it for 20 minutes. They've barely been up in the air, so that should be just about right. The pilot already told them how long the flight should be, so he's not playing with fire... not fire that's too hot, at least.

Then, phone in hand, timer ready to go, Chris leans back to give himself plenty of space to unclick his seat belt with deft fingers and slide down onto his knees. Easy as that. With how in his head Seb can get around flights and his anxieties with them, Chris is even surprised he notices him getting up to trouble.

Seb does notice, though, looking down at him with wide eyes, "what're you--what are you doing?" He asks, his voice quieter than strictly necessary. It's just them back here, no flight staff, just them and the pilot. The perk of private planes.

"What does it look like 'm doing?" Chris snarks back playfully, walking slowly forward on his knees. Closer, closer, and finally fucking close enough to place his hands heavily on Seb's knees. He doesn't let his hands stay there, though, stationary. He pushes his legs apart, hands heavy and pressing, giving him no room to think. As soon as he got his hands on Seb, he stopped jiggling his leg. Both of his feet are firmly on the ground now. Perfect. This is the distraction he needs, the stale, chilled air around them just beginning to fill with tension.

"Here?" Seb squawks, vaguely indignant, his eyes searching their space and finding no one else.

Just them.

"Mmm-hmm," Chris drawls, grinning mischieviously as he lets his hands wander up his thighs, daring to go far enough to undo Seb's seat belt for him. Seb inhales sharply, in reaction to being seemingly less safe or because Chris' hands drag across his dick, he'll never know exactly, maybe both. But, because he's a gentleman, Chris unbuttons his pants while he's at it.

That leaves just the thin layer of his underwear between Chris' mouth and his beginning-to-wake cock. Instinctively, Chris' mouth waters. He can't be this close to that cock without getting the desperate urge to suck it and swallow it down his throat. Just thinking about it, God, he's getting hard himself. Seb heavy on his tongue... the smell of his arousal, heady and dark... the way he tastes when he leaks... how he feels when he twitches... the way he looks when he's about to cum and is trying to hold back desperately, squirming, making these pleading, aborted little whines that say he just can't fucking take it, it feels so good, with his face screwing up and pinching, so much pleasure that it almost reads as pain...

Focus, Chris, he tells himself. They're on a time limit here. He hasn't got the luxury of waxing poetic about his favorite dick.

"Don't worry, darlin'," Chris pets his hands up and down Sebastian's thighs, heating him up with the friction and watching, enraptured, as Seb's eyes get steadily darker, those pupils widening deliciously. "You don't gotta do a thing, 'kay?" Sebastian blinks at him, already going a little dumb. Cute. "Just sit there and look pretty while I make you feel good."

Seb swallows audibly, lost but so willing to take every word Chris says as gospel.

"Yeah?" Chris asks for affirmation as he pinches the inside of his thigh through his pants, teasing him.

Sebastian's eyes are still wide as if they haven't done worse in less private places. But, predictably, the comment about being pretty brings those eyelids down, just a touch heavier. His breath turns funny. Chris already knows what he's going to say, but he wants to hear it anyway. For fun.

"Okay," Seb breathes, nodding unsteadily.

"Yeah," Chris hears himself coo, encouraging him and letting his own hands travel to his slim hips, gripping his body like he's about to plunge into him and fuck him good, leaving ten fingerprint bruises in his body to remember him later. An ache in his hips like the ache between his cheeks from being pried open nice and wide and fucked good. The memory of all the marks he's left, all the times he's taken pleasure from his body, all the too-good fuck sessions they've had--they just make Chris' hunger for his cock worse. He's got to do something with his mouth. So, he talks a little more:

"That's it, pretty thing, just keep those hands right there--" digging into the armrests, not moving, just holding on. Chris really doesn't want him to do anything but what he said, sit there and take it. Be pretty. Really, that's all he knows how to do, be pretty. But, right before he ducks down to nuzzle at his dick, playing as if he's just suddenly, organically remembered, Chris instructs, "oh, and, don't forget: shhh," he blows hot air across Seb's lap, knowing the sensation will be such a tease, humid and feverish through his thin boxer briefs that barely cover his modesty.

Accordingly, Sebastian shivers.

Perfect.

"We wouldn't want to give the pilot any reason to come back here or ask what's going on back here before we land, hm?" Chris asks, maybe more cocky than he should be, but...

Seeing how Sebastian flushes red hot and goosebumps appear on his arms, hands firmly digging into his armrests, maybe not. He's just cocky enough. "N-no," Seb's voice cracks. Sweet.

Chris pinches his hip, just a tease of the sprinkling of the pain that Sebastian responds so well to--such a gorgeous thing that likes to hear he's pretty and likes to feel sensation. He likes good, he likes bad, he likes sweet, loving pleasure, he likes pain. He's such a good fucking boy for it all. Chris' favorite. His only. "A show as pretty as you can't be given out for free, now can it?"

Seb bites back a whimper.

"That's the spirit." Chris hums with twisted, perverse glee. And thus, unceremoniously, with one hand, he pulls Seb's thickening cock out from his underwear and using the other, he thumbs his phone, starting the timer he set.

"Wh-what?" Seb mumbles, his voice small and utterly confused. Mostly, he's distracted by the sudden threat of having his dick sucked--Chris jerking him off slowly, his mouth looming.

"Hmm?" Chris discards his counting down phone on the empty seat next to Sebastian, projecting thoughtlessness and ease as if this is nothing interesting. He's always on his knees for Sebastian in a private plane. Why would today be any different? Why is Seb acting so strange? This is just what they do. Of course.

"What?" Seb's eyes have strayed from him and, ineast, are glued to the timer.

Time... already... slipping... away...

"You heard the pilot, honey," Chris licks his lips, enjoying how Seb's cock is plumping up in his hand. He's getting harder and harder, swelling bigger and bigger as if on command, controlled by Chris. Christ. Isn't that a thought? A boy on command. Always ready to go whenever Chris calls. Fuck. "This flight isn't that long, and I'm not gonna let anyone have eyes on my boy. Someone has to be responsible."

"Oh." Seb's little, shocked sound is so fucking sweet. It drives Chris insane.

"Yeah," Chris replies, talking as if Seb is making any good points and not reduced to a sweetly tiny, simple vocabulary. "So. Do you wanna keep talking and making noise or..." he trails off, ripping his eyes away from Sebastian's and down toward his more than half-hard cock, responding to the treatment he's giving him.

Sebastian snaps his mouth shut so quickly it's audible, trailing Chris and dragging his eyes down too to stare at his own swelling cock. He's not wet yet, but he's gonna be--pre-cum and saliva.

Fuck yeah.

"That's what I thought," Chris chuckles low in his throat. "That's a good choice for a good boy," his soft laughter melts into a purr.

Then, going in for the kill--his murder weapon nothing more than his mouth--Chris brings Sebastian's just more than half-hard dick right into his mouth. Engulfing him.

He doesn't give Seb anymore warm up than the once over with his hand, jerking him a little. Nah, he wants to rip this orgasm out of Seb so he doesn't know what hit him, leaving him all achy and dizzy. Sweet and docile. Chris can wait until they get home if it means his pretty boy hanging off his arm, floating in a daze through the airport and into their waiting car before throwing him through their front door to have his way with him in their own fucking bed.

He's gonna spread Sebastian out and lose himself in his body. He's gonna feel so good, utterly limp, except where he's clenching tight around his dick.

Yeahhh.

Extra eager, the rest of his plan taking shape in his head, Chris takes his dick all the way down to the base just to feel his cock twitch and jerk and swell in his mouth and the top of the throat. Coming alive.

Pulsing.

Growing.

There's nothing that compares to the sensation of feeling his boyfriend take pleasure from his body--being a hot, warm hole for him. Chris shivers, feeling pressed in on by Sebastian's knees, warm and squeezing at his shoulders. He's totally hard now.

Solid.

Hot.

It feels so fucking good to swallow around him and run his tongue over the big shape of him. His veins throbbing. His foreskin drawn back. His head silky and smooth. His shaft just hard as shit.

God.

As Chris works, tonguing and sucking and swallowing around him, Seb is having an increasingly hard time keeping himself quiet. Good.

It's worse when Chris swallows roughly, again, and then hums around him. Feeling him struggle and hearing him struggle is a little too fucking intoxicating. Chris might as well be drunk on it. His taste. His strain. Him.

Him.

Chris doubles down, grabbing at his hips and shoving himself down on his cock until he sputters. But, he holds himself down anyway. He wants to choke on it. He likes the way it feels in his throat--toe-curlingly hot and stretching.

Meanwhile, Seb's doing everything he can to stay silent, not wanting to be caught red-handed, rather, red-dicked maybe. Ha. He's struggling. Shaking, gripping his armrests tighter, tighter, and tighter, his knuckles going white, spreading his legs wide, trying to jerk up into Chris' mouth, but--

"Mm-mn," Chris makes a sound of disapproval, flicking his eyes up. He wants him to take it. Take exactly what he gives him. No more. No less. This orgasm is his. He's gonna fucking rip it out of Seb. He'll make him feel so damn good.

Sebastian whines faintly, trying not to. He's just so helpless.

Still, Chris scratches his nails down his pants-covered thighs, saving him from the worst of the bite--another heated threat. This time, Sebastian catches his lip between his teeth, but his hips aren't so easily controlled. Bucking up and shoving himself hotly down his throat. The friction is slick and good and thick. But, it's about the rules. The game. He wants Seb to play along.

He'll make him play along.

So, Chris pulls off, lapping at the tip of his cock, jerking him slowly not because he needs to like before, when Seb was dry, now he's soaked with spit. He's slowed down because he wants to. "Careful, baby, I might just put your belt back on you."

Seb makes a helpless little sound, choked up.

"Oh, you want that?" He plays dumb, as if he isn't intimately familiar with Sebastian's fetishization of bondage. Yeah, he's fucking hot for it. Always has been. Airplane seatbelts. Necktie. Scarfs. Anything else silly and improvised, or, serious and not improvised... like, heavy, padded leather cuffs.

"You want me to tie you down with seat belts across these fucking uncomfortable-ass chairs?" Chris chuckles, the vibrations enough to make Seb weak, even if his mouth isn't totally around his cock now, just lapping his head and sloppily kissing his shaft. "Should I get a plane with a private suite next time? Spread you out on the bed and have my way with you then? Bring some rope along in my carry on? Make you helpless and take it no matter what?"

"Ch-Chris!" A quiet whine of his name bursts from Seb's chest.

"Nu-uh," Chris shakes his head. "You gonna be still and silent so no one knows? Or do I gotta stop, Sebby?"

Sebastian quivers like a leaf in a wind storm. Head to toe. But he doesn't make a sound. So, that's answer enough, isn't it?

Chris gets back to work, sucking his fucking cock. He's not looking at the timer but Sebastian is. Chris can't decide, now, what he wants more. Does he want Seb to cum now and be all sweet and docile all the way home, pawing at him, begging to stop in the nearest bathroom and return the favor, his oral fixation acting up, bad, wanting to be sweet? Or, does he want Seb to not cum in the time and be disrupted so he's hissy and bristling like a feral kitten, dragging Chris through the airport all the way back to their bedroom, his claws sinking into his forearm, showing how fucking wound up he is? Oh, the options...

Around his dick, Chris grins, his mouth and throat full. He's sure he looks sloppy (and probably stupid, lips stretched so much) but he feels fucking salacious.

God, he wants to pull Seb forward by the hips so he can tap a few spit slick fingers against his tight little hole, but he doesn't. He doesn't want him to move. He's fucking serious about being a cute, pretty thing for him to swallow down, not moving and not making a peep. Also, he wants to reach down into his underwear to fondle his balls, but they both would have to move for that, too. So he doesn't. Instead, he just fucking sucks. Hallowing his cheeks. Humming. Swallowing. Pushing his tongue against Seb's pelvis and getting him deep. He wants Seb to just fucking lose it.

And he wants it to happen quietly, without him making a sound, no choice in the matter, he just feels too fucking good.

If only he knew how long was left on the timer...

Well, that's something for Sebastian to do, now isn't it? Chris will just leisurely fucking suck that dick, going hard because he wants to, enjoying himself, enjoying his boy's cock, and if Seb happens to cum? He happens to cum. If he doesn't? He won't. Anticipation is all for Sebastian. Let it wind him tighter. Who knows, maybe he'll break.

[zukkaart]

Zukka, #13. “Why am I always your second option?” because 😈

Wonderful wonderful,

For the prompt game! (No one has picked my favorite one yet, bonus points if you do 😘)

Anyway here ya go

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Exactly five years after the end of the 100 year war. A celebration is in order.

“So Sokka, who are you going to invite to the celebration?” Katara calls to her brother through the now open doorway connecting their rooms.

“I figured I’d just bring Toph, you’re going with Aang and she never bothers to ask anyone,” Katara gives him a completely unimpressed look. “What?” He asks defensively.

“You take Toph to everything, and anything you can’t take her to, you take me to. Earth Kingdom, Fire Nation, even our own events”

“So? Is it wrong that I feel comfortable around you guys? Who else am I supposed to ask? Suki is still flittering around the EK helping in reconstruction and damage control, and she’s dragging Ty Lee along with her.” He pauses, a sly grin crossing his face, “Are you suggesting I ask Azula?”

Katara placed a hand on her chest in shock, “Absolutely NOT! I’m just saying it wouldn’t kill you to meet new people,”

“Actually- considering the semi-frequent attempts on my life due to my station as emissary, it very well could,” He countered, Katara only rolled her eyes.

“You know, you could always ask Mai” She offered. That stopped Sokka in his tracks. With one hand still holding his half-done braid tight he turned to face her.

“And have Zuko light me on fire? Absolutely not. Why do you hate me?” Sokka whined as the dutiful older brother he was.

“Sokka, they broke up. Like 6 months ago. For La’s sake do you ever pay attention when I speak? I’m going to get Aang, he told me if the meeting ran over three hours so to go save him. Think about talking to Mai, okay?” She said the last part with a genuine tone, but Sokka simply threw her a particularly vulgar gesture as she strode into the hall.

He grumbled to himself as he finished braiding his hair in the water-tribe style, letting the ends loose in his signature wild tail. He stared at himself in the mirror for a moment. He was twenty one now, and definitely looked it. He stood just over six feet and his build had filled out so much that sometimes it was hard to not think it was it father staring back at him.

“You know what Katara? Maybe I will,” He flexed his arms in the mirror, smiling satisfied to himself, straightened his sleeveless blue tunic, and set on his way down the hall towards Mai’s room.

~~~

“I can’t Mai, I just can’t look at one more persons ‘ideas’ on how to improve any number of things. My head is spinning, I think if I have to go over these supply routes one more time I’ll burst in to flames.” Zuko slammed his hand down onto his wooden desk, his meeting robes were hanging off his shoulders loosely. Mai sat beside him picking her nails, as disinterested as ever.

“Just tell them that you’ve got it handled and don’t need any more input. You’ve been Fire Lord for five years now Zuko, you’re not a little kid anymore” His only response was a deep groan.

Just then a knock came, but not on his door, it sounded distant. “I think that’s for me,” Mai stood with a heavy sigh “I swear if one more servant offers me tea I’ll puke” she opened Zuko’s door with an impatient “Yes?”

“Oh Mai! I was hoping I could find you,” A familiar deep voice came from the hallway. Zuko immediately jumped to his feet and straightened his robes, tying the belt so tight he almost couldn’t take a full breath. He tried to come in to Sokka’s view as casually as possible and simply hoped that he didn’t look as awful as he felt.

“Oh hey Sokka, did you need something?” Zuko spoke before Mai could make one of her signature snide remarks.

“Oh Zuko, I’m so sorry. Katara told me that you were- I need a date to- she said I- oh never mind” Sokkas face flushed all the way to his ears. Zuko thought he looked adorable. For all of his bulging muscles and political skills, he’s still just that awkward 16 year old boy who thought he could fly a bison in to the heart of the fire nation.

To his surprise, Maj stopped Sokka before he could take his leave of them. He strode over to them sheepishly. He looked absolutely stunning, obviously having just gotten finished getting ready for the night’s festivities.

“I’ll leave you two alone,” Mai simply brushed past him to return to her own room.

“Oh wait, I-“ Sokka called after her, but her door had already slammed shut. He sighed and slid down the wall, firmly planting himself on the marble floor. “Why can’t I do anything right Zuko?” The Fire Lord eyed him quizzically.

“What are you talking about?”

“Katara told me you two had broken up, so I came here to- I don’t know, it’s stupid. And it doesn’t matter because I didn’t realize Katara was wrong. I’m sorry.” Sokka placed a hand atop is head in frustration.

This is it. Zuko thought to himself. He came here to ask me to attend the festival with him, but I need to make sure he knows Mai and I aren’t together.

“Oh, Katara wasn’t wrong,” Zuko sank to his knees beside him. “We did break up, she was just helping me with some trade routes,” Sokka chucked to himself, shaking his head lightly.

“Well it doesn’t matter,” what? “She obviously wants nothing to do with me,” oh

Zukos heart plummeted into his stomach. Mai, he had come to ask Mai to the festival. Not him. Ugh, how could he have been so stupid? Instead of the hot sting of embarrassment rising in him, all Zuko felt was… rage

“Mai?” He scoffed and rose to his feet. “You came to ask Mai to the festival?”

“Yeah.” Sokka stood and matched his defensive stance, “Something wrong with that?” The water tribe boy folded his arms over his chest, a scowl settled upon his features.

“Something wro- are you out of your mind?!” Zuko couldn’t choke down his emotions any more, but it seemed Sokka was not the best at reading emotions.

“You’ve been broken up for six months, and you’re obviously on good terms. Why shouldn’t I?” Sokka stepped aside into Zukos room so he could shut the door behind them. “Katara told me not to take Toph, I don’t want to go alone”

“Are you seriously that thick?” Zuko’s accusation hit Sokka like a bucket of cold water. “And to think that I- UGH” He threw his hands in the air.

“To think that you what?” Sokkas tone was much gentler now. He realized that there was something about this situation that he missed, and it was a big something. They stood in silence for a moment- then it hit him. “Oh, oh my La Zuko I am so sorry. You thought that I came to ask you?” All of the frustration had eddied from his voice, all that was left was confusion and a tinge of sadness.

“Whatever, it doesn’t matter,” Zuko waved him off, tightening his sash even more. “I dont know why I thought you would,”

“Me either,” Sokka noticed his mistake as soon as the words left his mouth. “No- not like that, you just never seem to want to go with me to anything.”

“What are you talking about?” Zuko snipped back

“Last years diplomat ball, Mai was busy, so you asked me. Three years ago the solstice in the south, you asked Katara but Aang showed up so then you asked me. Six months ago you asked Ty Lee to the opening of the new theater, but she had to leave but I was in town so then you asked me.” Sokka’s voice raised in volume with every account he laid out. “Why am I always your second option?”

It was Zuko’s turn to be embarrassed. He had misread this situation horribly. Sokka was trying to respect his boundaries, and Zuko had essentially just accused him of stringing him along. Really, it was Zuko who had done the pulling.

“Oh… oh Sokka I am so-“ He reached out but Sokka pulled away before he could make contact.

“Don’t Zuko… just don’t,” His eyes were as cold as ice as they fixed themselves to Zuko. “You always treat me like an alternate, and I’m always there. When everyone else falls through I am there. So don’t you dare accuse me of coming here under false pretenses, I have just been trying to protect myself,” Now that hit Zuko like a ton of bricks. Sokka felt the need to protect himself from Zuko. And honestly- Zuko didn’t have a good reason for why he shouldn’t.

Zuko had never meant to string him along of course, but it just kind of…happened. It wasn’t conscious, it was just because Sokka was always there, he was safe and comfortable to be around. In his royal training he was always taught it was polite to ask the highest ranking woman (or your partner, but it was always assumed that the Fire Lords parter would in fact be the highest ranking woman) to an event first, but he now realized that there’s no way Sokka could have known that. Zuko could definitely understand how that would look from the outside. How could he have been so foolish.

“Sokka you don’t need to protect yourself from me. I didn’t understand how you felt, I got wrapped up in customs and didn’t consider how it could possibly have made you feel. For that I am truly sorry…” Sokka said nothing, just pinned him with that same impassive look. “One thing I don’t understand though…” Zuko continued, Sokka raised an eyebrow, “Is why it went this far, I mean we only ever went as friends, you knew that.”

Of course Sokka new that, but that didn’t keep the knife in his gut from twisting. He couldn’t help but let out a bitter, humorless laugh.

“Oh Zuko, you really don’t get it do you?”

“What’s there to get? You’re my best friend, we went to a few events together, nothing sinister,”

“Oh is that what you’re aiming for?” Sokka began to pace the room

“Of course not… I don’t understand what’s happening Sokka, please tell me what’s going on,” Zuko had already made a fool of himself by assuming something once this evening, he wasn’t about to do it a second time.

“For Agnis sake,” Sokka took a sharp step toward him, it started Zuko so much that they both tripped and went flying backwards, landing in a heap of robes and curses. Sokkas head cracked against his mouth, splitting his lip open.

“Ouch,” Zuko groaned, he tasted blood. Sokka listed his head to look him in the eye, preparing to berate him for being so uptight but then… they were so close.

Zuko’s lip throbbed, but all he could focus on was Sokka’s warm breath mingling with his own, and his jasmine and musk scent dominating his senses.

Sokka stayed there, unmoving, steady. Zuko didn’t dare to even shift for fear that he’d get up. Of course- they’d been this close before, they’d sparred and slept next to each other on trips. But this felt… different somehow. Intimate. Was the word that Zuko’s brain provided him.

Then, a calloused thumb was wiping the stray droplets of blood off his bottom lip. Normally, it would have hurt, but Zuko’s entire body was buzzing with uncertainty and anticipation.

Before another thought could pass through his conscious mind, Sokka’s lips were on his. Cool and steady.

And it was like the answer to a question Zuko had been asking his whole life.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ah my favorite idiots.

This could have been WAY longer so count your blessings.

Thank you for this prompt! Xoxo

[theghostofblackbunnymask]

Have you thought about writing a part 2 for the Yandere! Karlnapity story? I would love to see how Quackity deals with the aftermath of killing y/n. If not, it's all good.

Author's note- Oh mate I have, and boy will this be angsty...

Part 1

Warnings- Death, gore, implied past abuse, cursing and greif

Yandere Karlnapity x Reader Part 2

Quackity looked down at Y/N who was limp on the floor, their eyes looking dead as they stared at floor, blood seeping through shirt and blood coming from their head. Quackity dropped his axe and looked at his hands, covered in blood. Quackity looked up at the mirror and he began to tear up. He was covered in blood, Y/N's blood. Quackity didn't even remember the person in the mirror, he only saw a monster wearing his skin.

"Y/N, respawn, please..."

Quackity looked at their bed, but they never respawned. Quackity was confused until he counted Y/N's deaths, Y/N lost their first canon life to Dream and their second from when Schlatt executed them with Tubbo. Then that's when Quackity's blood went cold, he took their last canon life.

"Wait, no, no! I didn't, I thought..." Quackity said as his voice began to break.

Quackity looked at Y/N and hugged them, not wanting to let them go.

"I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry! Please, come back, please, you're all I have left..."

Silence...

"Karl and Sapnap were right, I'm too unstable to take care of you..."

With Karl and Sapnap...

"Karl, you can go back and time and save them, right?" Sapnap asked.

"No, I don't think I can, if I do than it could seriously mess up the future..."

"Well, can you at least see what happened?!" Sapnap asked.

"I can, but I can't interfere..."

"Ok..." Sapnap said.

When Karl got back to the time Y/N was killed, he hid in Quackity's Penthouse. Karl watched as Quackity pulled out an axe.

"Quackity, wait!"

Quackity pushed Y/N to the floor, making Y/N hit their head on the floor, making their head begin to bleed.

"Maybe killing you will remind you of your place..."

Quackity began to plunge the axe into Y/N's chest and stomach until he saw they were at half a heart.

"STOP! PLEASE, HALF A HEART!" Y/N yelled, holding their body in pain.

"Like I said, you deserve this..."

And then they were gone... Blood everywhere as they fell onto their stomach, their cold dead eyes staring directly at Karl's panicked and scared ones.

Karl went back to the present shaking, he was shaking so bad he couldn't even stand up. Sapnap caught Karl as he fell.

"What happened?"

Karl shook his head as Y/N's face kept showing up in his head, the way he just sat there and did nothing, and seeing their final moments alive haunt him.

"I can't relive it, I can't, I'm sorry. It was awful, their face... What Quackity did... I don't want to remember this, I want to forget what I saw! But I just can't!" Karl said as he cried in Sapnap's arms.

Sapnap rubbed Karl's back as he comforted him. Sapnap felt awful for making Karl see that, and having it traumatize him this much made it even worse.

"Shhh, it's ok Karl, it's ok..."

3 months later...

"The books, Dream," Quackity said, glaring at the man wo was bloody on the floor.

"H-Here..." Dream said, writing down the stuff needed for the revival book before giving it to Quackity.

"I need two."

"But you said you-"

Quackity pointed the axe towards Dream, making Dream shut up and hand him another one.

"Thank you, enjoy your stay Dream," Quackity said as he stepped on the platform.

When Quackity got off Sam was waiting for him.

"Perfect," Quackity said.

"Mhm.," Sam said as he began to escort Quackity from outside of the prison.

"Quackity, can you promise me something?"

"What is it?" Quackity asked, examining every detail within the revival book.

"When you bring Y/N back, protect them, and control yourself. I don't want to hear again that Y/N got killed, either from your lack of control or from someone else."

Quackity looked up at Sam and smirked sadly.

"I promise, I don't plan on letting them die, and especially from my own hands," Quackity said as he left the prison.

At Las Nevadas...

Quackity looked at both of the revival books, one had 'Schlatt' written on it, while the other had 'Y/N' written on it. Taking a a deep breath, Quackity threw both into the fire, watching as they burned into ashes.

Quackity left his office and walked to where Schlatt was buried, when he got there he saw horns that looked too familiar.

"Quackity! How are you doing old friend? Thanks for bringing me back." Schlatt asked, pulling Quackity close.

"I don't have time for your antics, come with me," Quackity demanded.

"Oh, you're in a awful rush, and look, you finally had an ass," Schlatt teased as he followed.

"Shut up Schlatt!" Quackity yelled in frustration.

Schlatt walked in front of Quackity and grabbed Quackity by his chin while he held him by his wast.

"Deny it all you want Baby, you know you still love me, and you know that you're still useless without me," Schlatt said, watching as Quackity's pissed off face turn to one of sadness and fear.

Quackity looked to the side before pushing Schlatt away.

"I'm not fucking useless! I have my own fucking country, and unlike you, I actually know how to run it! I don't fucking abuse my employees and drink so much alcohol that I can't even do my fucking job!" Quackity said as he walked past Schlatt, who was shocked, pissed and somewhat amused.

Schlatt followed Quackity as they both walked into a forest.

"Where the hell are we going?"

"Shut up and don't worry about it."

Quackity stopped walking when he heard a sound. Walking towards it, he saw Y/N, who sat there confused. Y/N had a streak of white in their hair, just like Wilbur. Quackity slowly walked towards them, and when Y/N looked at him he stood still.

"Q-Quackity?"

Quackity ran over to Y/N and hugged them, knocking them over. Schlatt wasn't paying attention to the scene and was just smoking behind a tree.

"Y/N I'm so sorry! I won't do this again, I swear..." Quackity said, pulling them close.

Y/N hesitantly hugged Quackity back, not sure if this was a trick or one of his many lies.

"Where am i?" Y/N said in a cold and dead voice, pushing Quackity away as they looked around.

"Your grave, I buried you where you, Karl, Sapnap and I met..."

Y/N looked around before standing up giving Quackity the cold shoulder.

"I hate you..." Y/N said, speaking their mind to Quackity for the first time in years.

"W-What..."

"You killed me, I don't want you to hurt me again! The pain I felt... It still hurts," Y/N said, beginning to shake as they held their stomach.

"I want the old Quackity back, not you... I want Karl and Sapnap back, I just want to have them back! You're not Quackity, you're a demon wearing his skin..."

Quackity's heart broke in two as he saw Y/N point at him, their eyes holding nothing but pain. Schlatt began to chuckle as he heard the two talk. Y/N looked away from Quackity and began to walk off.

"Wait, no!" Quackity said, grabbing their wrist, preventing them from leaving.

"Let me make it up to you, please! I'll change, I'll let you see Karl and Sapnap again, I just want you to be happy, and I don't want you to leave me..."

Y/N looked at Quackity before thinking about what to do.

"You promise?"

"Promise."

"Ok, I'll come back..."

5 hours later...

Karl was cuddling up with Sapnap when both of them got a private message from Quackity.

"Come to Las Nevadas."

Sapnap and Karl looked at each other, thinking the same thing.

"This may be a trap," Sapnal said.

"I know, but, I want to hear what he has go say."

Karl and Sapnap walked into the Las Nevadas, only to be greeted by Quackity himself.

"What is it Quackity?" Sapnap asked.

"Karl, Sapnap, I'm sorry, I really am, and I know you won't forgive, and may want nothing to do with me, but please, let me explain."

Karl and Sapnap glanced at each other before nodding, agreeing to let Quackity explain.

"I revived Y/N, and they really miss you two, a lot, and so do I. They want all of us together again, to be happy again. You may not want anything to do with me, but please, for Y/N..."

Karl and Sapnap hugged Quackity without a second thought, catching him off guard.

"We thought you'd never ask," Sapnap said.

Quackity hugged the two back before they all started to walk off.

"Where's Y/N?" Karl asked as the three went up the glass elevator.

"My penthouse," Quackity said as he exited the elevator and walked to the room which led to it.

Quackity unlocked the door and entered, Karl and Sapnap following after. Y/N was no where to be seen, but you could hear them crying in their room. Sapnap and Karl slowly opened the door and saw Y/N sitting on their bed, rolled up in a blanket as they silently cried. Y/N stopped when they got knocked over by someone. Turning their head, they saw Sapnap and Karl hugging them, which surprised them.

"Sapnap, Karl..." Y/N whispered.

"We missed you so much!" Sapnap said.

"Yeah, we thought you'd never come back!" Karl said.

Quackity had a warm smile on his face as he watched what happened, it reminded him when they were all together, before Kinoko Kingdom and before Las Nevadas. When Quackity turned around to leave, Karl grabbed his hand and pulled him into the hug, trapped him as Karl cuddled him. Y/N fell asleep while Sapnap cuddled them. Even though their relationship wasn't the best, it made them all happy.

[anonymous-dentist]

1882. 

Mason’s face is absolutely breathtaking when he’s at rest. It used to be rare that he would pull the bandana down from over his nose in Karl’s presence, but never before has Karl been more awed by the rugged beauty of the human race. 

Mason is gorgeous. Karl could sit and stare at him for hours, and he has. Back before Mason started taking his bandana off, Karl saw his blush reach up to his decidedly cute little ears. 

Humans, they’re just cute. They’re so small and so fragile, but they’re stubborn, and they’re excellent kissers. Or maybe Karl’s humans are. He hasn’t really experimented since meeting them. He’s a monogamous man now. Well. He’s… monogamous to his two humans! (Is there a word for that?)

But Mason? Mwah. He’s perfect. He’s rugged, his jawline sharp enough to cut diamond and his nose thrice-broken and his smile jagged like the Rockies and twice as sharp. 

But Jack? Mwah. He’s perfect. He’s built like a string bean, but his eyes are sharp and his tongue sharper. 

Sometimes, Karl thinks that he should have gotten a different body to court them with. He’s shorter than them, and he isn’t very strong, and his endurance is lackluster at best. But they always wait up for him, even if they’re in danger and Mason is half a second from shooting him dead again and Jack is threatening to leave him behind if he doesn’t hurry the hell up. 

Truth be told, he doesn’t want to get rid of this body. It’s going to be a shame when he has to give it up. Once he figures out how to get his humans home, none of them will need their bodies anymore. But he kind of likes it, this body, this Karl Jacobs he has been steering around for what’s coming up on three years now. He doesn’t like having to sleep or eat or anything, but it’s worth it for the way they look at him when they think he isn’t looking. 

Karl smiles softly and moves a clump of hair behind Mason’s ear. His skin is deathly cold, but that’s to be expected with the weather they’re having. Snow, snow, snow, more snow. Karl is a little cold himself, but, wrapped up in one of Jack’s warmer coats and wearing a knit hat he made himself, he can deal with it. 

They’re in bed, him and Mason. Mason’s on his back, hands crossed over his chest peacefully. Karl is on his side propped up on his elbow watching him and waiting. 

There’s no Jack. 

There hasn’t been a Jack for a couple of weeks, now.

He sent a letter last week, addressed only to Karl. Mason had taken one look at it and said to toss it into the fire. They ended up having to do that, but only after Karl had memorized the letter’s contents. (He’s always had a good memory, especially when it comes to the things he loves.) 

-

Dearest Carlos, 

This may be my last letter for a while for a bit for forever. I’m afraid that I’ve run into a bit of trouble out here in Las Nevadas. I believe that I have told you about the man with the face like a goat? Well, he’s caught up with me, I’m afraid, and I’m going to have to get around him to try and get home. I’m sure that I can manage, though. I’m stronger than I was when I last saw him. You always compliment my shooting skills, and I always live up to expectations. 

But if I somehow don’t make it back home to you, rest assured that I will be waiting for you in Heaven. I do not know if creatures like you can go to Heaven, but if you go to Hell instead, I’ll meet you there. 

Tell Mason that I’m sorry. I’d like to say it in person, but I’m not sure if I will have the opportunity to. Make sure that he knows. I will be awaiting his apology in return, should he care to give it. 

I love you. I’ll be home soon, or you can come and find me. I’ll be waiting. 

Adios, mi amor, Jack Kanoff

-

It’s cold. Karl doesn’t like the cold. It reminds him of his home. Back home, they don’t have physical bodies, not most of the time, but the cold still cut through him something awful. No fireplaces back home. No handsome men to warm you up (no handsome women, neither, now that he thinks about it.) Oh, what he suffers through for the sake of love… 

The cabin is silent. No fire in the fireplace; they ran out of wood a couple of days ago and haven’t been able to go out in the storm to get more. All of Karl’s books have been burned, all of Jack’s letters save for one that Karl hid away in a pocket on the inside of his vest, too. No quiet talking or soft, tired laughter, not any more. It’s just the wind outside, and the patter of hail on the roof, and the occasional poem recited in a language that only Karl knows. 

He’s bored. He wants Jack back home. He wants Mason to wake up. Oh, what he suffers through for the sake of love…

Karl yawns. He flops down onto his back and stares up at the ceiling. 

Mason, as expected, doesn’t react. 

It’s been 18 hours. Karl doesn’t stay up any longer than 12 at a time if he can help it. He and Jack are both sleepy fellas, much to Mason’s annoyance. Mason’s a bit of a night owl. He can go days without sleep and come out just fine. 

This is strange, but Mason is a bit of a strange guy. And, really, can Karl really judge how strange people are? (He is self-admittedly a bit of a weird people.) 

-

Karl is awoken by a knock at the door. He yawns and scrubs his face and first checks to see if Mason has woken up (he has not) before pushing himself off of the bed and towards the door. 

Just before opening it, he remembers that there’s an impassable blizzard outside. It’s either a crazy person, or it’s someone like him- a weird people. 

So he backtracks and picks up Mason’s Colt off of the table where he left it. There’s still five bullets left in the… the thingy. The round thingy. Whatever it is that they call it. Case? Round? 

Karl jumps as the knocking at the door becomes a bit more insistent. He lets out a breath and glances at Mason just briefly before steeling himself and going to open the door a crack. 

The man on the other side has yellow eyes and red hair. His face is speckled with blood, and his teeth are just a bit too white when he smiles. He doesn’t seem to mind the blizzard. 

“It’s a hell of a storm out here,” the stranger says. He laughs, and Karl laughs with him without really knowing why. 

The man then wrinkles his nose and says, “Damn, what’s that smell?”

Karl, about to try and turn him away, freezes. Oh, he knew that he missed something in the cleanup… 

“It’s nothing,” Karl quickly says. “Goodbye. Have a safe journey.”

He slams the door shut in a mild panic, eyes wide and breaths heaving. His hands are shaking. Why? He didn’t do anything wrong. Mason is going to wake up soon, and then Karl can give him his gun back. Any minute now. 

Karl whines softly under his breath and closes his eyes, more than a little choked up. The gun in his hand is freezing; it stings, actually, almost feeling like it’s branding his skin. He’s never liked the guns that his humans love so much. They’re too loud for his tastes, both the bullets and the screams that come about as a result of the bullets. And Karl normally loves hearing screams! It’s just- 

“Oh, shit!” 

Karl screams and spins around, raising the Colt level to the stranger’s chest. Or, well, his back, because he’s looking right at Mason, and his shoulders are shaking with laughter. 

“I’ll use this,” Karl warns, voice wavering. 

“I’m sure you will!” the stranger chuckles. “Y’know, when I heard that the Democrat Haters got themselves a pet civilian after the sudden loss of their third member, I had my doubts. Turns out I was right!” 

He turns around slowly, hands in his trouser pockets, casual as the day is long. The smile on his face hasn’t faded. 

Karl doesn’t like him. 

Karl shoots him. 

Unlike the last time, he isn’t smiling as he does so. There’s no laughter, just a rattling breath and a resigned expression. 

The man looks down at his chest, bleeding and smoking slightly from the singed fabric of his coat. He looks back up at Karl, laughs again, and he tilts his head slightly, eyes narrowing in clear consideration. 

“You know, you have pretty good aim,” he comments. “Jack teach you?”

Karl can’t help the desperate, “You know Jack?” that spills out of his lips. He’s just. Jack is… 

“Not personally. I was better acquainted with Mister Dickson here,” the man replies, tilting his head towards Mason’s unmoving body. 

Karl blinks. “He had a last name?”

“He did before I met him. You know, it’s real easy to just make things…” The stranger removes a hand from his pocket and mimes a little supernova. “Poof.”

Mason’s never talked about his family. Karl knows that he came out west to get away from them, and Karl can definitely sympathize. It never mattered. 

Sometimes, though, Mason would try and say his surname and would just… say nothing. He would open his mouth, but no sound would come out. Jack always laughed at the dumbfounded look on his partner’s face, but the most recent time that it happened, Jack just snapped that maybe Mason should’ve disappeared like the rest of his family seems to have done. 

Karl stares at this strange, strange man, and he slowly lowers the Colt, whole body tense. 

“You’re a demon,” Karl hesitantly says. “aren’t you?”

The demon winks. Karl still doesn’t like him. 

“I’ve really got to thank you,” the demon says, turning back around to look at Mason. “I’ve been getting rather impatient. Humans just don’t die like they used to…”

“He’s going to wake up soon,” Karl says. He swallows nervously. “He is. You can’t have him.”

“He’s… going to-” and the demon bursts into a fresh explosion of laughter. 

Karl watches, and he wants to cry. He’s never met a demon before, let alone tried to threaten one. He’s not a very threatening guy! He always left that to Jack and Mason. He was their… what’s the term? Mascot? Masco. Emotional support Karl, that’s him. 

The demon wipes a tear from his eye exaggeratedly and strides over to the bed to look Mason over. Karl rushes over to insert himself between them, and maybe he’s crying a little. Maybe. He’s always been emotional, even before he got himself a stupid emotional body that actually makes him express his emotions. 

He’s still holding the Colt. He doesn’t think that he can let go again. 

The backs of his legs are pressed up against the wooden baseboard. Mason’s elbow, bare and cold as ice, pokes into his thigh. 

Karl disentangles one of Mason’s hands from the other and holds it. Of course, it’s the one with the ring. The ring is somehow warmer than Mason’s skin, but Karl is far from comforted by it. 

Maybe it’s bad to show a demon such vulnerability, but it’s not like a demon could kill him or steal his soul or anything. He can’t die. He doesn’t have a soul. He’s pretty safely immune to demons, though that isn’t doing him a lick of good right now. 

The demon stands there passively, if not amusedly, as Karl presses the burning-hot barrel of the Colt to his chest to nudge him back and away. Away. 

“He’s dead, idiot,” the demon taunts. He backs away, but he obviously isn’t threatened. He should be. Members of Karl’s species are much stronger than any demon could ever be save for the Light-Bringer himself. But, well, the demon doesn’t know that Karl is anything but a scared, panicking human. 

Karl feels like a scared, panicking human. 

“Yeah,” Karl weakly agrees. He sniffs, lets out a breath, and nods. He continues, stronger, “Yeah, he is, but he’s going to wake up soon.”

The demon blinks. “What.”

Oh, so he doesn’t know? Strange. 

Karl licks his lips anxiously, debating whether or not to tell him. What harm could it do? 

“I shot him,” Karl eventually says. “but it was an accident. But it’s fine, because he’s going to wake up soon. It only takes me ten minutes at most.”

Ten long, excruciating minutes spent watching his partners fret over his body, and ten long, annoying minutes trying to prevent his body’s technical original inhabitant from taking back control. Ten minutes at most. It’s been over 24 hours since Mason’s death. He’s gotta wake up soon. 

He has to. Or else Karl killed his human, and he doesn’t think that he could live with himself if he did. 

The demon raises an eyebrow. “You what.”

Karl shrugs and looks down at the floor. There are still some stains on it from the blood. Mason had been shot only a foot or so away. His body fell next to the bed, where it remained until Karl had decided that his darling would come back to life in relative luxury. He had fueled the fire with the last remaining letters from Jack, and he had gotten a towel wet with snow and he had scrubbed the floor until his hands were raw and the water ran clear. 

“When I die,” Karl clarifies, careful about how much he is actually revealing. He doesn’t want to give his hand away too early, to borrow a phrase. “I always get better. I… I don’t know why. So he’s going to wake up before too long, just you see.”

“...Okay, that’s kind of fucking stupid, but, whatever, I don’t care. He’s dead. He made a deal with me a long time ago, and now I’ve come to retrieve his soul,” the demon says. 

Karl’s head snaps up as the demon tries moving closer again. He’s moving before he realizes it, tackling the demon and slamming his head into the floor. The demon lets out a shocked gasp, and then a light growl as Karl grinds his shitty little nose into the floorboards. 

“You will not,” Karl growls. His voice is warped, an attempted facsimile of what his actual, natural language sounds like. His vessel’s vocal cords are rubbing themselves raw with the effort, and he can feel it overheating with the exertion of trying to contain what cannot normally be contained. “He is mine, demon.”

But then the demon laughs, shocked and delighted. “Oh, that’s it! That makes more sense!”

Good. Karl smashes the back of the bastard’s head in with the butt of Mason’s gun. The demon’s body shudders, but the demon himself doesn’t let up with the laughter. What a freak. 

“You’re in denial, kid!” the demon crows. Karl watches his head reform, sticky blood clumped in his hair. “He’s dead, and so’s the other one!”

Karl snarls and bashes him again. And again. And the demon just doesn’t. Stop. Laughing. 

Karl freezes when he hears movement from the bed, a sort of coughing-sputtering-bubbling. He scrambles to his beloved’s side, eyes wide in anticipation. He was right! He was… 

“Gotcha,” the demon lowly says. 

Karl watches through teary eyes as all that comes out of Mason’s mouth is one last exhale. 

He bows his head and leans it against Mason’s side. Mason’s hand is still dangling over the edge of the bed; Karl takes it and holds it to his forehead and sobs pathetically. 

“You’re young,” the demon says. Karl stiffens as the demon walks up behind him and rests a hand on his shoulder. “so let me give you some advice. Don’t get attached. These humans… they’re fragile. They’re delicate. Do yourself a favor and stop caring so much.”

Karl shakes his head. He sniffles, and he shakes his head again. 

“No,” he mumbles. He doesn’t think his voice could get any louder. He shakes his head again. “You’re an idiot. I loved them.”

Jack’s last letter had water stains on it. They looked like tears. The letters were shaky, like he was nervous. 

“I love them,'' Karl amends. 

Mason only has one ring on his hand. He threw Jack’s into the fire before Jack had even left. Karl had searched the cinders for it for days before Mason had pulled him away and had told him that it wasn’t worth it. Jack wouldn’t be coming back, anyway, not if he knew what was good for him. 

Karl doesn’t know what the argument was even about. He was out checking the traps for food when it began. He remembers hearing shouting and screaming and crying- oh the crying. By the time Karl had managed to make it inside, Jack had finished packing and he was storming out the door with tears in his eyes. He gave Karl a tender look before getting on his horse and riding off into the sunset. 

Nothing is as beautiful as human emotion. Happiness, sadness, anger, and grief. The full range of human expression is something that Karl doesn’t think that he can ever get used to. Love, though? He knows love. It’s the most human expression of all, he thinks. 

“I’m going to see them again,” Karl mutters. He squeezes Mason’s hand tight. 

“No, you won’t, because I’m taking this guy’s soul literally right now,” the demon says. 

Karl sits up and fixes the demon with a determined look. “I am going to see them again. We are going to make a deal, and I am going to see them again, and we will not be parted again, do you understand me?”

The demon raises both eyebrows. “Are we, now? So, what, you want me to give up this perfectly good human soul right here in exchange for… your lack of one?”

Karl shakes his head. “No, no, listen, there is a human soul inside of here. He doesn’t need it any more. I’m keeping this body. You can have his soul, and…” He swallows and looks back down at Mason. “I don’t know. Take some of my power. Take all of it. I don’t care. Just make sure that I see them again, and that we get our happy ending, and you can have whatever you want.”

“Whatever I want?”

Karl places the Colt onto the floor and uses that hand to gently stroke Mason’s sallow cheek. 

He swallows, and nods, and all he hears is a grunt of affirmation before collapsing on top of his partner’s corpse unconscious. 

[holdmeclosertinytaron]

Chapter Four

A/N: I hope you all enjoy this next instalment of ETTC!! Thank you to everyone who has been liking, commenting and messaging me about the story. It means the world.

Warnings: Explicit language, consumption of alcohol

Word Count: 8.2k

Story Page / FAQs / ETTC chats.

The pub was busier than Amelia had ever seen it that night, though there were only an additional five tables occupied than normal. Though there was a certain hustle and bustle that came with those few extra people, Amelia welcomed it with open arms. 

After three in the incredibly quiet village where not a lot happened, being surrounded by more people was just what she needed. It made her feel a little more at home. 

The only issue with there being more people in the pub was her usual table in the far back corner wasn’t free like it normally was. So, she opted to sit in front of the roaring fire, letting the heat radiate throughout her entire body. She sat far enough away that she wasn’t sweating from the heat, but close enough that when the door opened, she didn’t feel the draft entering the building. 

Her steak and ale pie with mashed potatoes went down a treat and just as she was about to get up to get another drink, Kaine walked over with a drink for her. 

‘How did you?’ 

‘Read your mind,’ he replied with a smirk. ‘No, it’s a bit of a habit you have. After you’ve eaten, you’ll wait five or so minutes and then come up and get a drink.’ 

Amelia was shocked. She’d not realised that she was so readable but at the same time, she should have known. Everywhere she turned there was someone who knew something about her life that she didn’t know was common knowledge. 

‘Well thank you,’ she offered as she took the glass of wine from him. 

‘No Taron today?’ 

‘Kaine, I don’t know how many times I have to tell you,’ Amelia mumbled as she looked at him, his tongue pressed into his cheek. ‘There is nothing going on between Taron and me.’ 

But oh how she wished there was. 

‘But if you must know,’ she continued, emphasising ‘must’ by tilting her head ever so slightly to the left, ‘he is working until six and then will probably be going home to put his feet up because if you haven’t noticed, it’s bloody freezing outside and he’s been working since eight this morning.’ 

‘You know an awful lot about his work schedule for there to be nothing going on between you,’ Kaine jested while grabbing Amerlia’s empty plate and walking away before she could reply. 

Another glass of wine later, Amelia finally pulled her phone out of her bag. There were random instagram notifications of people liking her most recent photo– one she had taken months before to try and make people believe she was still in LA and not in the English countryside– as well as her daily Co-Star notification and three text messages. 

From: Haz :) 

They’ve asked me to do three more press interviews! I’m so tired and just want bedddddd… and my partner in crime. Work isn’t as fun without you :(( x

From: Mama

Any men popped up since last time we text? Xx

From: Lukey 🤍

Lmao that sounds…interesting. Any plans for tonight? 

Choosing to ignore her mum for the time being, simply so that she could avoid having another conversation about the lack of a man in her life, and knowing that it would cause Harry to pout and playfully sulk if she were to reply to Luke first, Amelia decided to respond to Luke first. 

To: Lukey 🤍

I’ve just had tea at the pub and I think I’m going to sit here for a couple of hours and have a few drinks before heading back for the night :)) 

Her fingers moved fast against the keyboard on her phone and she only made a couple of mistakes that were easily fixable. It didn’t take Luke long to reply which could only mean that she was on her way home from work and bored on the tube. 

From: Lukey 🤍 

That honestly sounds perfect! I think I’m just gonna pop 10 Things on and eat my weight in chocolate lmao. Don’t tell H but I’m going to open the Quality Streets early :))))) 

Amelia chuckled before sending a quick reply and promising not to tell Harry of his boyfriend’s antics. She locked her phone then, putting it on the table in front of her and enjoying the final song that the live band was playing. Over the course of their set, she had taken a couple of videos to show Harry the next time she saw him. 

As families and a few of the older gentlemen started to trickle out of the pub, a few others started to trickle in, filling the seats that sat near the small clear space that had been designated as a stage. Amelia paid close attention to everyone around her, her love and need for people watching kicking in fully. 

Kaine weaved his way through the tables until he stood at the front of the room. He clapped when the band finished their cover of Bohemian Rhapsody before he stood behind the microphone and cleared his throat. 

'Evening lads and lasses.' He was unable to continue speaking from the low mumbles of everyone in the pub repeating ‘evening’. 'It’s Friday night karaoke night! I’ll leave a little sign up sheet here for you to write your names down then when our ever so lovely Kelly comes in, I’ll come and sign everyone up properly. Bar’s open all evening!' 

With that, everyone clapped again and the pub’s sound system kicked in, playing a song that Amelia couldn’t quite remember the name of. She kept checking her phone to see if she had any more text messages but she didn’t so she finally replied to Harry. Or at least she started to. Halfway through her text two hands landed heavily on her shoulders and she almost jumped out of her skin. 

'What the?' 

As she turned around, the two people she least expected to see stood smiling widely at her. 

'If it isn’t Pretty Baby Bray…' Harry joked playfully. 

'What the hell are you two doing here?' Amelia replied with her hand on her heart. She was easy to scare and Harry knew that, which is why he would purposely scare her when they were on set together. 

'I don’t know about this idiot but I missed you like crazy,' Luke piped up from next to Harry. 

Amelia saw her close friend and stood up from her seat. She instantly wrapped her arms around Luke and held him tight. Her friendship with Harry had resulted in a really close relationship with his boyfriend and they would often have brunch dates when they were both in the same city. 

'Do you want a drink, babe? I’m gonna go grab myself a beer.' 

Luke let go of her friend and turned to his boyfriend, thinking for a second before turning to Amelia. 

'You’re here a lot. What do you recommend I get?'

'Southern Comfort and Diet Coke,’ Amelia replied instantly. ‘Sweet and tasty. So bloody good. I’ve gotten a little tipsy on them a few times.' 

'Two Southern Comforts and Diet Coke coming right up,' Harry spoke happily before walking over to the bar to get the drinks. 

'Who introduced you to that drink?' Luke asked gently as he sat down next to Amelia, leaving the seat with the back to the fire for Harry. 

'Taron,' Amelia replied simply.

'Taron? Taron as in the Taron you keep texting H about? Talking about how he makes you flustered and nervous all the time? How on many occasions you’ve ‘made a complete fool of yourself’ but Taron was gracious and simply brushed it off? How there hasn’t been a guy before Taron that you have ‘fancied the pants off’?' 

Amelia couldn’t reply. Her cheeks were red hot and visibly darker in colour. She shifted in her seat and drank the last bit of the drink she had already all while Luke laughed at her. 

'You’re so predictable, babe. Is this guy really that amazing?' 

'Yes.'

He really was. He was the most amazing and Amelia couldn’t comprehend how she’d been so lucky as to have him in her life, even if just for a short time. 

Though she didn’t have the heart to tell her friend that she and Taron weren’t exactly on the best of terms at that point. Ever since their incident in the street a few days before, they hadn’t spoken. Not for want of trying. Taron had texted Amelia multiple times trying to get her to let him explain and he’d even tried to call her but she ignored it. She was too scared to know the truth.

******

When Kaine walked over to the table with a tray of four tall glasses a little while later, each filled with a beautifully ombréd drink in them, Amelia was beyond confused.

'What is this, Kaine?' She asked as she tilted her head up so that she could look at Kaine properly.

'A Snookums. Harry mentioned your nickname a little earlier. It’s basically a Gatsby but with muddled strawberries,' Kaine replied as though Amelia should have known what the drink was. The only problem was that even after being told what it was Amelia still looked completely clueless to which Kaine, and Harry alike, couldn’t help but laugh. 'There’s brandy and gin in it as well as apple juice and strawberries. It might be gross but I thought you’d appreciate something different.'

Amelia took a small sip of the drink and her eyes fell closed in pure euphoria. 'Oh…my…god. That’s so good, Kaine! You’re going to have to keep these coming tonight.'

Luke and Harry chuckled from their places as they took the first sips of their own Snookums’. Amelia hadn’t been lying, it was really good, and Luke could tell that if she were to keep up and drink more then she would slowly become more and more drunk.

'I’ll keep ‘em coming, lovely. Talk to you soon.' Kaine gave Amelia a small wink before walking back to the bar where he was met with a multitude of older men waiting to be served.

'Why’s the barman winking at you?' Luke asked curiously.

'You two got a thing going on?' Harry added playfully.

'You two are actually as bad as one another, you know? That’s Kaine and he’s my oldest friend’s boyfriend.'

The look of pure hurt on Harry’s face caused Amelia to bend over in her seat laughing. Of course, she knew that he wasn’t really hurt or she wouldn’t have laughed. But he was an actor after all.

‘Haz, stop being a child! I haven’t spoken to Thalia in a while and I don’t know when the next time will be either. You know that you’re my best friend…after Luke.'

'Ha! Told you she loved me more!'

The group’s playful banter was exactly what Amelia had been missing since she first arrived in Rivercliffe. It wasn’t that she didn’t have friends there because obviously she did. It was just that herself, Luke and Harry would take the piss out of one another and then laugh about it. There was something keeping her from being her true self in the village and as much as she knew what that was, she was scared to admit it properly.

******

'Hey mate,' Harry chirped as he walked up to the bar for the third time that evening.

'Hey mate. You’re Amelia’s friend…Harry, right?'

'Aye that’s me. Look, mate, I desperately need your help.'

Kaine put his hand towel back through his belt loops before putting his hands on top of the bar and lifting his head slightly. 'Depends what it is, but sure I’ll bite I guess.'

'Perfect. Do you know a bloke called-'

'You’re going to ask me about Taron aren’t you?'

Harry knew that there was a possibility that Kaine wouldn’t know where Taron was, but he had to try. When Amelia had called him the night everything happened in floods of tears and near a panic attack, he wished that he could have been there to hold her and calm her down. And even if it killed him, he would get them both back talking again because Amelia hadn’t been as happy before as she was when she was with Taron .

'How did you…?'

'Look, Harry, I’ve got eyes and a brain. Those two need someone to bash their heads together and I feel like you’d be the best person to do that anyway. Amelia mentioned that he’s working until six and then he’ll probably be heading home.'

'Perfect. Do you think if I head off to try and persuade him to come for the karaoke night you could make some excuse up with the missus and Amelia about where I’ve gone? I’ll be ten minutes tops.'

Kaine nodded with a smile. 'Course I can. Be quick or someone’s gonna steal your seat I can guarantee it.'

'Will do. Thanks again, Kaine.'

'It’s no problem, brother.'

With that, Harry was legging it out of the pub and running all the way back to the bed and breakfast where Taron should have been getting ready to finish his shift.

As though the universe was working in favour of Harry, Taron was just closing the gate behind him when Harry turned the corner.

'Taron!' He shouted the best he could through his pants. If there was one thing that Harry was, it was unfit.

'That’s me.'

Taron stayed where he was until Harry got closer to him so they could talk without shouting.

'I’m a friend of Amelia’s.'

Amelia. Even hearing her name had Taron’s stomach twisting awkwardly. For days he’d tried to get in contact with her just so that he could explain what happened and for days she had ignored his efforts. At one point he was contemplating catching her when they were out and about so that he could tell her to her face but he chickened out at the last minute.

'I know what happened between you both the other night.'

'Look, Harry, I swear I’m not-'

'I know,' Harry spoke quietly. He knew that with Taron trying to get in contact with Amelia that he was telling the truth. 'She’s just fucking stubborn. But she also knows deep down that you were telling the truth and she feels stupid and is scared to admit that she was in the wrong. It’s the way it goes with her.'

'I’m not mad at her, if that’s what she thinks. I don’t think any less of her for thinking what she did because if the roles were reversed then I would have done the same'

'I know, pal. That’s why I need you to come to the pub before her and my other half get too suspicious as to why I just left them. Come with me and explain to her. She won’t walk away if I’m there because I won’t let her leave.'

Taron thought about it for a while, watching the way that he could see his breath in the below freezing temperatures. As much as he wanted to go to the pub and see Amelia, he was scared. What if she refused to listen to him? Or worse yet, what if she told him that she hated him and didn’t want to see him? His heart broke when she walked off from him and he didn’t think he could deal with her telling him to his face that she hated him.

'Listen, I know it’s scary and you’re unsure as to how she’ll respond but she wants to talk to you. Told me herself.'

'I’ll come.'

'Perfect.'

******

'Your left big toe was cold so you went to get your woollen socks?' Luke asked with raised eyebrows as Harry sat himself down on his seat and pushed himself closer to the fire so that he could warm up. In the heat of him leaving the pub he hadn’t taken his coat with him. 'You’re not even wearing them.'

'Well, you see, what happened was-'

Harry couldn’t even finish what he was saying before Taron was putting his drink down on the table and sitting next to Amelia. Harry nodded at him with a small smile before he turned to his boyfriend and kissed him quickly, wrapped an arm around him and pulled him into his body. Amelia turned to glare at her friend with her tongue in her cheek before she turned to Taron with her lips pulled between her teeth.

'Luke, this is Taron,' Harry spoke, needing to clear the tension at the table. 'Taron, this is my boyfriend, Luke.'

'It’s lovely to meet you, Luke.' Taron offered Luke his hand and dipped his head down slightly when she shook it. 'Amelia’s said so much about you. Says you’re one of her best friends.'

'Amelia is truly the best.'

'She is.'

With that they all fell quiet again. Amelia lifted her glass in a hurry and pulled it to her lips, tipping her head back to down the rest of the liquid which burnt her throat.

'I’m going to go get another drink,' she said through gritted teeth before she harshly pushed her chair back and practically stormed to the bar.

'I’ll go make sure she’s okay,' Harry muttered as he kissed Luke’s forehead and followed his friend. 'Oi,' he said as he poked Amelia’s shoulder, 'he’s come here so that you can listen to what he has to bloody say. And I’m not letting you leave this pub until you’ve heard him out.'

'Why, Harry? He’s just going to make a fucking fool of me and I’m going to feel even more dumb than I already do. And if I don’t, I’m going to make a fool out of myself because look at him.'

Taron was sat chatting to Luke quietly but all Amelia could focus on was how good he looked. When he sat down he took his long line coat off and she was fully able to see his outfit. A white t-shirt and black jogger style trousers. He looked good. He always did.

'Please, Amelia. It broke my heart hearing you so down the other night. He really does just want to talk to you.'

'Fine. I’ll hear him out. But if this ends badly it’s on you.' She poked at his chest before thanking Kaine for her drink and walking back to the table.

******

Throughout the course of the evening, more people had signed up for the karaoke…including Harry who only smirked at his boyfriend and best friend. He was always the one to get up and sing, though normally he would need a couple of pints down him first.

When Luke brought that fact up, he shrugged it off with a wink, 'Ahh, but angel you’re forgetting something. By the time I’m called up to sing, I’ll have a few more than a couple of pints down me so I’ll be good.'

'You’re a knobhead,' Luke breathed quietly. Truth was, she loved when Harry sang and she knew that even at a karaoke night when there was a high chance that he would be drunk, he would still be amazing.

'Yeah, but I’m your knobhead,' he replied just as fast, leaning forward to press a swift kiss to his lips.

Amelia watched her two friends in awe. She could barely remember the last time that she kissed someone she was seeing out in public without a care in the world, though it was probably before she’d been in any films and didn’t have to worry about the media. 

Long gone were the days where she felt free enough to even hold hands with someone let alone kiss them. She longed for a relationship as, what seemed to be at least, perfect as Harry and Luke’s. She wanted someone to kiss her while they were out and about and them both wind up giggling like they were in those very first stages of a relationship where everything was new and exciting.

The only issue was that she longed for a relationship like that with only one person. No one else set the butterflies off the way that Taron did, and no one else seemed to care about her the same way that Taron did. Even when they were simply having a small conversation, Taron’s entire attention was on Amelia and what she was saying. When she was with him, she didn’t have to fight for his attention and that’s what she loved.

'What song are you going to sing?' Amelia asked gently as she lifted her drink up to have more of it. The almost overly sweet beverage left her closing her eyes again and when they opened, Harry was shaking his head with a chuckle.

'You really are something else, you know that?' Amelia nodded. 'But I’m going to sing Faith.'

'I don’t even know why I asked in all honesty.'

'Yeah I’m surprised that you asked. Are you gonna sing something?'

'Hell no,' Amelia replied quickly. There were some things that she would do at a drop of a hat but singing in the pub to strangers? No chance. 'There are some things I will never do.'

'But you’re an amazing singer! They’d all love you.'

'My dignity wouldn’t.'

'I’ve never heard you sing,' Taron whispered awkwardly. He and Amelia had talked about what happened and they agreed to put it behind them but they weren’t back to what they were before.

'Don’t hold your hopes up, mate,' Harry added through a chuckle, 'she hardly ever sings anymore. But you’ll be lucky if you do hear it. Like an angel, she is.'

'Harry, I swear to god I will throw my drink on you.'

Taron laughed quietly from his spot. When Amelia turned to look at him his smile disappeared, until he saw her give him a small smile. Oh, how he’d missed the way her smile made him feel. It was as though the butterfly which was tattooed permanently onto his stomach fluttered around in giddiness and his head went light as he tried to control his breathing.

'I’m going to go and get another drink, would you like one?' He asked everyone at the table, but mainly Amelia who suddenly couldn’t take her eyes off of Taron.

It was the first time in a while that she truly looked at him and took him in. He looked dishevelled, almost like he hadn’t slept in days. The bags under his eyes were deep purple and rather visible. His lips were chapped and cracked in places and his eyes looked sunken. Not to mention the mess of hair on the top of his head. He looked unwell.

'I’ll come and get one,' Amelia replied quietly, turning to Harry and nodding when he gave her a look as if to ask if she was sure.

They walked to the bar in silence. Taron had his eyes on the floor while Amelia had to fight herself not to grip onto his hand. Though she did have to grip his bicep when she almost tumbled forward.

'Careful, Pretty Baby.'

'How is that you’re always saving me from falling on my arse?' Amelia chuckled, getting to the bar and leaning on it to catch herself properly. 'Are you okay?'

Taron was taken aback by the question. It wasn’t a typical ‘are you alright?’ question. There was meaning behind it, like Amelia really wanted to know how he was doing.

'Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?'

Lies. He wasn’t okay in the slightest. He’d barely slept a wink since they last spoke to one another and had opted to sleep on the sofa where he wasn’t surrounded by her scent which lingered on his sheets. For days the only thoughts clouding his brain had been Amelia. Each ignored text and unanswered phone call made him recoil back into the sofa more.

Work was the last thing on his mind and he had, regretfully, called in sick from both jobs because he didn’t want to risk running into Amelia and upsetting her. He did, however,  take walks around the village in hopes of seeing her because seeing her out in public would surely be easier than seeing her in the confines of a small cottage building.

'Taron, I know that’s not the truth.'

'I’ve barely slept.'

Amelia wasn’t expecting the truth to cut her so deep. But it did. Knowing that Taron, her lovely Taron who she adored, hadn’t slept to the point where he looked physically ill hurt her. She could feel her stomach clenching at the thought and she had to take a deep breath to even begin to relax herself.

'I’m sorry,' she whispered. She was well aware that Taron would try and tell her that it wasn’t her fault but she knew that it was. If it wasn’t for her not letting him explain in the streets then he would have slept and wouldn’t look ill. But she didn’t, and he didn’t.

'It’s not your fault,' he whispered back. Amelia let out a tiny, breathy chuckle. Taron was predictable in the best possible way.

'It is though. I should have let you talk but instead I just thought about myself and how I felt so I’m sorry.'

'If it had been the other way around then I’d have done the same,' Taron confessed.

Amelia regretted looking up at him. The fluorescent lighting of the pub cast a weirdly gorgeous glow over Taron’s entire face. The shadow on his cupid's bow made his lips look that little bit more full and kissable. More kissable to the point where if there wasn’t a roomful of people around them, and she was sure that Taron wanted to, she would have pressed her lips to his gently.

'I’m still sorry.'

'What can I get for you both?' Kaine asked when he walked up to them.

'Another round of Snookums' please, Kaine.' Taron spoke confidently for the first time that evening and it warmed Amelia’s heart.

While they waited for Kaine to make the drinks, Taron drank Amelia in. He paid close attention to the way that her hair fell on her shoulders and the way that her top lip protruded ever so slightly more than her bottom lip. It wasn’t until then that he truly realised how much he wanted to kiss her. He wanted to grab her wrist so that he could spin her around and he wanted to cup her cheeks delicately as he pressed his lips to hers gently.

******

When Kaine announced that Taron was going up to sing, Taron himself had chuckled because he wasn’t the one who had put his name down on the sheet. It was only when Harry patted him on the back and winked at him that it all made sense. Luke scoffed a laugh while Amelia death glared at her friend. 

Taron stood up slowly, throwing daggers at the man he had just met before walking over to the stage area and standing behind the microphone stand. He pointed to Kaine when he was ready for the music to start and closed his eyes as he took a deep breath. 

The opening notes of Endless Love started playing and within the first few words Taron  sang, Amelia was truly transfixed. 

Completely and utterly fixated. 

His voice was so delicately soft with a certain amount of gravel to it too. The gravel that Amelia loved so much. He looked nervous to start, and he could barely be heard over the chatter that was still in the pub. But as he got a little further in, he grew a little more confident. Amelia couldn’t not stare at him. She was so unbelievably confused as to how the guy she’d thought was perfect since the very start could become even more perfect so quickly. 

'He needs a Diana,' Harry whispered into her ear before sitting back on his chair with a smug smirk. 

'Of course you did this on purpose, asshole,' she whispered back with a small smile of her own. She should have known that Harry would pull something like that, it was in his nature. 

Though, to start she had no intention of getting up to sing with Taron for she wanted to sit and enjoy the soothing sound of his voice. She could hear him sing for eternity and she would be content. However, when she could hear him start to struggle singing both parts of the song, she downed the rest of her drink and stood up. Harry let out a small cheer as she walked away, not missing the way she put her middle finger up at him. 

'You’re a dickhead,' Luke whispered into his boyfriend’s ear. 

'Yeah, I know. She’ll thank me later though.' 

'You’d better hope she does. I’d have fucking killed you.'

Harry only laughed at his boyfriend before lifting his pint to his lips so that he could take a swig. His eyebrows furrowed when Luke lifted his hand to his lips to stop herself from laughing. He refused to tell him why he was laughing so he resorted to lifting his phone up to check his face in the camera. Much to his dismay, the head of his lager had left a white moustache above his top lip. 

When Amelia got to the table where Kaine sat, she grabbed the microphone that he was holding out to her and switched it on with the switch at the bottom of it. As soon as she saw the red light flash three times she took a deep breath and started her walk to a startled Taron.

'Two hearts,' Amelia sang softly. 

Taron didn’t know what he was expecting when Amelia started singing, but it sure as hell wasn’t what he thought. 

Her voice was smoother than fresh honey, velvety in his ears as he heard it. It was softer than the fluffiest blanket he had ever owned and it comforted him even more than he would care to admit. There was something so transcendent about watching her sing that he almost forgot that he had to sing too. 

He finally started to sing again, his eyes locking with Amelia’s as she turned to look at him. Neither of them could look away. They were so focused on one another that the entire room began to melt around them. Harry and Luke, Kaine and every other person disappeared and left them purely on their own. 

It didn’t take long for Taron’s lips to quirk up into a smile. His smile lines deepened and his dimples became even more prominent. He had to close his eyes to refocus himself on the song that they were singing, perfectly falling back into it.

When his eyes fluttered open again, everyone else was back in the room and he felt somewhat scared. But as soon as Amelia’s eyes met his once more, he felt calm. He was always told that when in front of a group of people he should find one person or thing to look at to calm himself. He just never expected that to be someone as amazing as Amelia. 

'I’ll be a fool for you, I’m sure.' 

Amelia could feel every beat of her heart pummelling her ribcage. She struggled for breath as she tried to continue to sing. It wasn’t easy though. Taron’s eyes bore into hers and she felt herself grow lightheaded and dizzy. 

Everything about Taron was perfect. He was funny, happy, so incredibly thoughtful, he didn’t take himself too seriously, and above everything else…he treated Amelia like a regular person. When she was around Taron, she wasn’t Pretty Baby Bray. She was Amelia. Taron treated her like he would treat everyone around her and she didn’t realise just how much she needed that. 

'You mean the world to me.' 

Amelia had to look away from Taron in order to try and hide the smile that she was fighting. She found Harry’s eyes and gave him a death glare which had him laughing and he slapped his knee as he tried to stop himself. Luke smacked his arm gently before nodding at Amelia with the biggest grin. 

Taron and Amelia sang in perfect harmony. Their voices mixed together seamlessly and it was almost too perfect. Even with their obvious nerves they didn’t miss a single beat and Harry continued to smile smugly from his place. 

'My endless love.' 

As the song ended, Amelia dropped her arm with the microphone and took a few deep breaths. Taron mirrored her actions.

'I’m sorry,' he whispered as they walked off the stage and back to the table. 'I should have told you that she was coming to mine.'

'Please don’t apologise. I’m an idiot for assuming that something was going on between you both.' Amelia finally smiled at Taron properly just as they made it back to the table and Harry couldn’t hold his smug grin in. 'Shut up, arsehole.'

'Hey now. You should be thanking me, Snookums.'

'Snookums?' Taron questioned through a chuckle.

‘We were a married couple in our new Christmas film and his character called me Snookums. Harry here refuses to call me anything else now.'

'Snookums. I like it just as much as Pretty Baby.'

Amelia could feel her heart burst and her stomach clench all at the same time. She got giddy when he called her love but hearing him call her Snookums was something else. Not to mention Pretty Baby. Throughout her career, she’d been called Pretty Baby Bray by so many people and it had become a point of annoyance for her. But hearing Taron call her Pretty Baby, without the Bray, made her heart do somersaults. He truly was one of a kind.

****** 

'I got some money ‘cause I just got paid,' Harry sang loudly into the microphone while Amelia held her tenth Snookums in the air as she swayed gently. 

She started to loosen up a little bit after her fifth drink and by the eighth she was away with the fairies and signed herself and Harry up to sing together. Harry, being just as drunk if she was and if not even more drunk, jumped at the suggestion and immediately suggested they sing Saturday Night. Luke and Taron only laughed at the pair before they sat back back in their chairs with giant grins plastered on their faces as they watched the other two prance to the stage in fits of giggles. 

'Oh, how I wish I had someone to talk to,' she sang back just as excitedly. 

'I’m in an awful way,' they sang together, moving themselves so they were facing one another and laughing as the song carried on without them singing. 

They were so busy laughing at one another and trying to catch their breaths that they didn’t finish the rest of the song. The alcohol that they had been drinking over the course of the evening  had definitely made its way to their heads and made them feel like school children who were having a sleepover and staying up past their bedtimes. Their giggling got so bad that in the end, Kaine stopped the music and sent the two people who could barely stand up straight, let alone walk, back to their table. Taron and Luke greeted them with huge cheers and they dramatically bowed before falling into their seats and giggling. 

'I’ve missed you,' Harry hiccuped as he flung an arm around Amelia’s shoulders and pressed a sloppy kiss to her cheek. 

'Me too,' Amelia replied as she kissed Harry’s cheek back, feeling the stubble that was growing against her lips. 'Don’t ever let us not see one another for so long again.' 

'I won’t. As soon as Luke suggested that we come and see you I jumped at the idea because I’ve missed you like crazy.' 

Amelia and Harry’s relationship truly was one for the ages. They would say constantly that they didn’t feel like friends but siblings. Though they felt like those siblings who would playfully bicker and jokingly shove one another. Everyone who ever met them always said that they were always joking and laughing when they were together. 

Including in interviews. Interviewers who had never met the pair would leave the room with the widest smiles and were always gushing about them. There was never a quiet moment in interviews and they bounced off of one another perfectly. 

When Harry told Amelia that he had a boyfriend, Amelia had been a little worried to start. She was worried that her relationship with Harry would change and she wouldn’t get to see him as much. The complete opposite happened, however. When Amelia met Luke, she knew straight away that Harry’s relationship wasn’t going to affect their friendship at all. If anything, Luke brought Amelia and Harry closer together because they could go out as a group and have fun together. 

******

'Taron, you have to watch this video,' Harry exclaimed in excitement. He turned his phone to Amelia so that she could see what video he was talking about and he immediately got a cushion to the head. 

'You can’t bloody put that on!' She groaned dramatically. 'Taron, you can tell him to do one. You don’t have to watch the video.' 

Truth be told, she didn’t want to watch the video because of the memories that surfaced when she did. It didn’t matter how much time had passed, the memories were still incredibly raw. 

'Yeah but now I’m intrigued. Hook your phone up to the TV, Harry.' 

Taron’s words made Amelia grumble again. The video that Harry was going to put on was Amelia’s least favourite interview and he knew that. The question that she was asked haunted her for months after it was aired and it made her think back to a time where she wasn’t necessarily the happiest behind the scenes. 

'Okay so let’s take a look at the food we have here,' James spoke into the camera. Amelia, Harry and James sat around the table. They all looked incredibly nervous…including James who’d played the game multiple times before which didn’t instil much hope in the other two.  'We have, uhh, salmon smoothie, a beef tongue, bird saliva, a herring rollmop, a scorpion, fish head, hot sauce-'

'Is that safe? To do hot sauce I mean,' Harry asked with wide eyes. 

'We’re about to find out, Harry,' James laughed as he spun the table one last time. 'and finally…bull penis.' 

Between each item, the audience had been moaning groaning and Amelia felt herself gip at the stench some of the items on the table let off. She regretted ever telling Harry he could choose if they did it or not because at that moment she couldn’t think of anything worse to do than eat some of that stuff. 

'So for the benefit of anyone who doesn’t know how the game works…Harry, Amelia and myself will be choosing food for another person at the table to eat before asking a question. If the person answers the question they don’t eat. If they don’t answer…it’s down the hatch.' A couple of audience members laughed in response. 'Now just so we’re clear, none of us have seen these questions so they could be on anything at all. I’ll go first and I’ll be asking Harry a question.' 

'Right,' Harry sighed as he eyed the multitude of food in front of him. 'Can we not have hot sauce right away? Actually yeah, let me have it. Then I won’t be able to taste the rest of the food when I eat them.' 

'Now you’ve said that, I’m going to give you the bull penis.' James spun the table until the plate with the fishy roll was in front of Harry. 

'Haha you’re going to have to eat penis,' Amelia chuckled as Harry picked it up to sniff, immediately dropping it back onto the plate and gipping. 

'Only if he doesn’t answer the question,' James answered, lifting his first card. 'Harry might give it to you to try for your question.' 

'You dare, Harry..' 

Chuckles filled the entire room and James even slapped his thigh in laughter. 

'Okay, moving on with the game. Harry,' James paused as he read the question before he sat back with his lips rolled into his mouth. 'You’re here to promote your new Christmas film with Amelia, Christmas Staycation.' 

'I am indeedy,' Harry answered slowly. He eyed James who giggled lightly. 

'In the film you and Amelia kissed under the mistletoe but… who’s the better kisser, Amelia or your boyfriend?' 

'How the hell can I answer that?!' Harry exclaimed with wide eyes. He looked at the bull penis in front of him and lifted the plate up to his nose once more. He regretted it instantly, however. 'They’re both really good kissers, just to let you know.' 

'That wasn’t the question,' James laughed. 'I’ll ask you again just in case you forgot. Who’s the better kisser, your girlfriend or Amelia?' 

'Yeah, Harry. That wasn’t the question,' Amelia repeated with her lips puckered playfully. She knew that there was no way Harry would answer the question. Not even if he was paid to answer it. 

Harry took a deep breath before lifting the penis to his mouth and popping it in his mouth, chewing it slowly and gipping around it. 

'Yeah, you eat that d…ang bull penis,' Amelia spoke slowly, turning to James and watching him try not to laugh. 'Don’t worry, Luke, babe, I’ve got your back. But you might not have a boyfriend anymore if he gives me something nasty in a second.' 

Amelia spoke into the camera and winked as she made a heart with her hands and blew a kiss too. James couldn’t hold his amusement as he watched her interact with the camera while Harry sat and tried not to throw up around the penis he was eating. 

A few moments later, Harry finished the food and instantly took a large gulp of water to wash it down. 'That was fucking nasty.' 

Everyone cheered and James laughed harder than he had the whole segment. He silently ushered Harry to give Amelia a food to eat and he immediately put the scorpion in front of her. When he read the question he howled in laughter and had to drink more water to calm himself down. 

'Amelia, you’re currently dating Henry Caville who we all know played Superman.' 

'Oh god I know where this is going don’t I?' She asked through gritted teeth and Harry only nodded. 

'Does he ever make you call him Superman in bed?' 

Cheers and hollers from the audience deafened Amelia to the point where she could hardly hear James admit that he didn’t envy her. She closed her eyes and let out a large sigh before lifting the scorpion and wrinkling her nose at it. 

'There was this one time…' she laughed hysterically and watched as James and Harry’s eyes alike widened thinking that she had actually called Henry Superman while in bed.  'No, he never made me call him Superman in bed, thankfully.' 

'That’s boring. If it were me I’d make you call me Superman,' Harry joked, earning a death glare from Amelia. 'Close, close and finished.' 

'You’re not funny.' 

'No, I’m hysterical.' 

'Amelia, it’s your turn to choose something for me to eat if I don’t answer whatever question it is that gets asked,' James spoke to bring everyone’s attention back to the game they were playing. 

Amelia looked around the table to find something to present James with before she turned it around until the bird saliva was sitting in front of him. She could see the colour drain from his face and his hand lifted to his forehead. 

'I’ve had to drink this before and it’s the most disgusting thing I’ve ever put in my mouth.' 

Amelia laughed quietly before showing Harry the card to which he burst into fits of laughter and shook his head at James, 'Enjoy drinking it again, mate.' 

'Is the question really that bad?' 

Rather than telling James how bad the question was, Amelia straight up asked him and watched as his eyes grew three sizes bigger. 'Who’s the most high maintenance and hard to deal with backstage, me or Harry?' 

Ooh’s and ahh’s erupted from the audience. Harry sat back in his seat with a smug grin on his face and pointed to Amelia with a wink. Amelia turned to her friend and flipped him off behind the card she was holding before she turned to James and pointed to Harry. 

'And that’s all we have time for tonight! It’s been a pleasure.' 

'Come on, James. Who’s the hardest to deal with backstage?' Harry goded with his tongue in his cheek. He was taking great pleasure in watching James struggle to come up with an answer. 

'When you’re both together you’re honestly two of the most ridiculously hard to deal with. You’re continuously pulling pranks on me and you run away giggling when I try to get you.'

There wasn’t a single person in the audience not laughing and Amelia and Harry looked at each other laughing themselves. They loved playing small pranks and having as much fun together as they could when they were together. James’ face showed them that he didn’t really mean that they were both hard to deal with. In fact, he would never say anything but he loved when they would play pranks on him because it gave him a smile during the day. 

'Being honest, there’s neither of you that are the hardest to deal with or high maintenance so I can’t actually answer the question.' 

'Drink the bird saliva,' Harry declared. 

'Drink it! Drink it! Drink it!' The audience’s chants left James turning to them with an unimpressed expression. 

'You’re meant to be on my bloody side.' 

'James… drink the saliva.' 

After a deep breath, James necked the bird saliva and tried his best to keep it in his mouth but in the end he had to spit it out into the bucket by his feet. When he was sitting back up and glaring at Amelia and Harry, the cameras moved so that they were facing him. 

'Ladies and gentlemen, this has been spill your guts or fill your guts with Amelia Bray and Harry Styles!' 

After James’ final words, the TV in Taron’s living room went blank and Harry could be heard guffawing from his seat. Whenever he watched the video back he laughed just as hard as he had when he was filming it. Luke slapped his arm and turned to Amelia who was sitting motionless on the sofa. 

She didn’t speak up for a while after the video had finished and everyone was starting to get a little bit worried about her. 

'Everything alright, love?' Taron asked tentatively. 'I thought it was a really funny game.' 

'It would have been funny if they’d asked me a different question.' 

Harry sat forward in his seat and rested his elbows on his knees. 'What do you mean? That was a hilarious question.' 

'Again, it would have been.' 

Amelia’s repetition of her first response left everyone in the room confused. She had quickly grown quiet and fragile almost as she sat next to Taron  with her knees pulled up to her chest and Pickle by her side nuzzling into her.

'What do you mean ‘would’ have been?' Luke asked quietly.

 Amelia hadn’t told Harry why she hated the interview so much and he never pushed her on it because he thought she was messing with him. But seeing her sit next to Taron  genuinely almost in tears with her arms wrapped around her body made him see that maybe she wasn’t joking. He turned to Luke who shrugged her shoulders at him. 

'Henry and I…we weren’t together anymore when we filmed that. We’d broken up the night before and I had to act like everything was fine.' 

'Amelia, why didn’t you ever tell me?' Harry asked quickly, confused as to why he hadn’t known that his best friend was no longer in a relationship that day. He was confused and slightly hurt, though he knew that if Amelia didn’t tell him that there was a reason for it and he understood. 'I’d have made sure that there were no questions about him.' 

'Because I didn’t want to believe that we weren’t together anymore. It was an argument that blew up in the hotel room and I wound up sleeping on the sofa in the room.' 

'I’m so sorry,' Taron whispered as he wrapped his arm around Amelia and pulled her into his body where he held her tightly. She relished in having his arms around her again and she could feel herself becoming so comfortable that she let a few tears fall. 

'It’s fine,' she whispered back, 'it was a while ago now and I should be over it.' 

'Did you love him?' Taron’s question caught Amelia off guard. She nodded her head anyway. 

'I think I could have been but I also don’t think I was.' 

'You’re bound to still be upset when it wasn’t all that long ago and you had strong feelings for him. But you’ve got so many people around you who just want you to feel good, myself included.' 

'Thank you, Taron.' 

'That’s okay. I don’t want to take away from this moment and I’m sorry that I am but we really need to be heading off to the bed and breakfast if we’re going to get there in time.'

[nctsjiho]

Lost Boy

warnings: none

era: fall 2018

❀ JiHo and Winwin go on a little mission to find a lost child’s parents

“I don’t know who’s idea it was to leave an 18 year old and an awkward foreigner boy alone in a foreign country, but the idea doesn’t sound the brightest.” JiHo noted while she scanned her surroundings. Winwin took slight offence to the comment and pushed her arm. “Hey! I’m not awkward.” The girl only sent him a smirk before looking around again.

The pair were outside in a less busy area of LA, while their manager went inside a store to grab some essentials. Normally something like that wouldn’t be allowed by the company so the manager had made JiHo and Winwin promise they wouldn’t tell anyone about it. Of course JiHo took advantage of the situation by requesting the manager would buy them some snacks - which also wasn’t allowed during JiHo’s diet, but the manager had to choose between potentially loosing his job, or just getting told of for letting JiHo break her diet. The decision was easily made.

While Winwin and JiHo immersed themselves in a casual conversation, JiHo suddenly felt a tug at her jacket. A little shocked at the unexpected movement, the girl looked down to see a small boy looking up at her. He must have only been around 5 years old, which made JiHo confused about who would let such a young child alone. But by the looks of the boy’s wide and teary eyes, it was definitely a case of a lost child, probably scared out of his mind.

JiHo’s features immediately softened, not wanting her underlying panic and concern for the boy affect the kid. “Hey little guy, what are you doing here alone?” JiHo asked in English and crouched down so she was at eye level with him. The little boy, however, didn’t respond. His lips were slightly trembling and his tears pooled at the corner of his eyes.

Winwin, who felt as shocked to see the lost child, crouched down as well and when the boy faced him he waved. “Hello.” He greeted in Korean, which had JiHo roll her eyes. “You weirdo, he doesn’t understand Korean. We’re in America.” She scolded, hitting her friend’s arm lightly. “You don’t know that.” Winwin retaliated. 

Before JiHo could fire back, the “arguing” friends heard a little giggle from the young boy. They both looked at the boy with smiles growing on their faces. “We sound funny don’t we?” JiHo asked and the young boy nodded, causing JiHo to laugh. She quickly translated to Winwin who found it endearing as well.

“What’s your name?” “Jonas.” The boy started to feel shy and casted his gaze on the floor. “Hi Jonas.” Winwin’s sweet tone completely stole the young boy’s heart as he now confidently smiled at Winwin. “No matter where we are, no matter who it is, everyone always falls in love with you.” JiHo snickered to which the older boy shrugged and then continued to wave at Jonas.

“What happened Jonas? Where are your parents?” The boy looked up at JiHo before explaining that they were with him at the park nearby and then suddenly he couldn’t see them anymore. “Did you cross the street all by yourself?” Jonas nodded as his eyes began to fill with even more tears. “Hey, don’t cry. We’ll go find your parents, but you should never cross the street by yourself okay?” Again the boy nodded and JiHo stood up.

Not really understanding what JiHo had just said, Winwin followed her lead and stood up as well. “What are we doing?” Winwin asked and JiHo’s eyes fell on the store their manager walked into about 5 minutes ago. “We’re going to find Jonas’ parents.” She looked at the small boy who was holding onto her hand and looking around the street, hoping to find his parents.

Winwin felt a bit uneasy, even though he wanted to help the child, their manager had no idea what was happening and had “ordered” them to wait outside and not move until he was back. JiHo noticed her friend’s inner turmoil and groaned. “If I have to I’ll go alone, but I’m not letting a kid go and find his parents alone in the late afternoon.” “But can’t we wait till hyung is back and go together?” Winwin tried to compromise. “We don’t know how long he’s going to be in there, and I don’t know how long his parents have been looking for their son. They must feel devastated.”

JiHo noticed how cold Jonas’ hand was so she took her jacket of and wrapped it around the little boy’s shoulders. “I’ll carry you.” She crouched down and Jonas wrapped his tiny arms around JiHo’s neck as he let her pick him up. “I’m going to look for his parents. You’re free to come or stay here, but I’m going.” JiHo told Winwin and then left in the direction of the park.

Winwin did a double take of the store before running and catching up to JiHo and Jonas. “I’m not letting you go alone.” He mumbled, to which JiHo felt a smile creeping on her lips.

Once they enter the park, JiHo asks Jonas a few questions like, “Where was the last place you saw your parents?” and “Did you see in which direction they left?”. Jonas wasn’t much of a help since he didn’t remember much. Yet JiHo completely understood, the boy lost his parents, he must have been so scared and panicked.

5 minutes went by, but they felt like at least half an hour and still they hadn’t found Jonas’ parents. Noticing how the small boy started to become a bit more restless Winwin came up with an idea. “I’ll carry him and you can run around and ask people if you have seen his parents.” Winwin suggested to which JiHo agreed. She handed over Jonas to Winwin who tried his best to entertain the boy. His English skills were very minimal, but Jonas seemed to prefer him saying things in Korean anyway. Each time he did, it elicited a giggle or a smile.

All Winwin had to do was keep Jonas calm, so JiHo could run around and hopefully find Jonas’ parents as soon as possible. He hated the fact that JiHo was running around alone at 5 pm on a particularly cold day, in nothing but a t-shirt and jeans. Her jacket was still wrapped around Jonas, who seemed to appreciate the warmth it provided.

Winwin’s mind was clouded with so many thoughts, what if they didn’t find Jonas’ parents? What if something happened to JiHo? She was only 18 - technically speaking 17, her birthday was in a few months -  in a foreign country, with no supervision. Speaking of supervision, how was their manger going to react? Had he already left the store? Had he noticed him and JiHo weren’t there yet? How-

“Jonas!” “My baby!” Winwin’s head snapped to the direction of the screams. There he saw JiHo and two adults running towards them. “Mommy! Daddy!” The little boy screamed, happy to see his parents again. Quickly, Jonas was scooped out of Winwin’s grasp by the little boy’s father. “Thank you two so much! Oh my God, I was so scared!” The mother cried and pulled JiHo in a hug.

Once the mother stopped crying and had hugged her child, they turned to the two idols. “Thank you again! Thanks for taking care of my little boy.” The father said, trying to calm down his rapidly beating heart. “No worries, your son is such a nice boy.” JiHo explained while she got her jacket handed back. “How could I ever repay you?” JiHo held up her hands explaining that they were okay and didn’t need anything. “Did they take good care of you?” The father asked Jonas who then excitedly started telling about how nice JiHo was and how funny Winwin and JiHo talked to each other. It melted both their hearts and then they waved the family goodbye after getting a last hug from the boy.

“He was cute.” Winwin smiled to which JiHo agreed. She then poked his shoulder twice. “We should head back, oppa isn’t going to be happy-” “YOU TWO!” As if on cue, their manager appears, sweat was dripping of his temples as he approached them. “I told you to wait in front of the store! I could already see my career- no, my whole life flash in front of my eyes!” JiHo and Winwin look at their manager with a sheepish grin. “Why are you here?” Winwin then explained what happened and their manager’s gaze softened.

“Next time, don’t forget your phones in the hotel okay? I was worried sick, but thank God you’re both fine.” The manager patted both idols’ shoulders. “And you did something amazing. I’m happy you found that little boy’s parents. I think I almost can relate to his parents.” JiHo cooed at their manager and looked up at him with big eyes. “Aw~ You care about us like we’re your own children?” JiHo teased which caused Winwin to laugh. “Never mind. Maybe I shouldn’t have come to find you.” He groaned.

“Me?! Why are you looking at me only? What about Winwin?!” JiHo asked offended. “What do you mean, JiHo? Didn’t you say everyone always falls in love with me?” The boy wiggled his brow as he mocked the girl. She rolled her eyes while looking at the manager. “Yeah, I think I prefer Winwin right now. Here you go buddy.” He hands him the snacks he got for him earlier. “What about mine?” The manager laughed. “I stress binge ate your snack while I was looking for you guys.” JiHo stopped in her tracks, mouth fallen open while the other two continue to walk. “That’s so unfair.” JiHo mumbled but quickly rushed to catch up with the others.

“Be careful what you say oppa. I can tell SM about how you left us alone outside-” “Here!” He shoved a bag of snacks into JiHo’s hands which made her smile sweetly. “Have I ever told you, you are my favourite manager?” JiHo beamed while opening the snack. “Shut up and eat.” He grumbled.

---

Side Note: Long overdue Winwin writing, there’s still a few members that I haven’t written for, so I’m slowly getting there. The member’s I haven’t written for, funnily enough, are some of the ones that I want to write for the most, but I’m having a hard time finding the perfect stories for them. Just letting you know, so you know that I love them as much as the other members. I know Haechan and Doyoung appear on this blog the most, (and I might have another Doyoung angst in my drafts) but that isn’t because I like them more, I love all NCT members equally. <3

Also posting 2 days in a row because I felt inspired and I might have given up on an assignment for this

[restlessfandoming]

“the president and the troublemaker” (part 2) (chilumi fic)

[part 1] 

“Lumine is the student council president and Childe is the school’s number one troublemaker. They cross paths more than they’d like. Especially when Childe finds out Lumine’s big secret. Highschool AU à la Kaichou wa Maid-sama.”

[Fic Masterlist] // [AO3 Link]

* * *

“the president and the troublemaker” (part 2)

“This is a surprise,” Childe said, “Madame President.” 

Lumine felt like she was sweating out an entire waterfall and experiencing winter in Snezhnaya simultaneously. “Ch-Childe,” she greeted, trying to remain calm. “What are you doing here?” 

The corner of his mouth was tweaked upwards in the faintest of smirks. “I should be asking you that. Me? This is somewhere I’m expected to be. You?” His smirk grew a little bigger. “Not so much.”

“I—” She took a breath in. “I am seeing what kind of places delinquents like you congregate. Seems like I was right,” she fibbed. She put on her President persona; hopefully that was enough to convince him. 

He tilted his head, blue eyes glimmering in amusement. “Tsk, tsk. I thought our student council president would be better at lying.” He eyed the fighter’s tape still on her hands. 

She quickly put her hands behind her back. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Research is research.” 

There was silence as he just stared at her, his eyes calculating—something, she didn’t know what. 

“Well, I think I’ve seen enough. Looks like I’ll just have to report you to the school tomorrow,” she said quickly, turning to scurry away. 

“Outlander.”

Lumine froze. 

“Outlander,” Childe repeated. “That’s you, isn’t it?”

She heard his footsteps coming up behind her; she didn’t look at him as he circled her, observing her. 

“Same stature, same build,” he remarked. “Definitely explains the mask.”

He knows. He knows. Lumine felt her soul deflate out of her. 

Knowing Childe, this news would be all over the school within a matter of hours. Her spotless record was ruined. Her future was ruined. 

She bit the side of her cheek. Fine; no more pretending. “Yes, I’m The Outlander,” Lumine said lowly. She cast a glare at him. “What about it?”

Childe raised his brows, surprised at her admission. “What happened to, ‘Fighting isn’t fun.’?”

“It isn’t,” she sneered. “I do it because I have to.”

His eyes squinted in confusion. “Because you have to?”

“The money.” Her fists were clenched. “I need the money.” 

He blinked, staring at her in silence once more. 

Probably thinking of some way to torture me. What’s he going to do? Extort me for money? Blackmail me? 

It doesn’t matter. My life is over as of now. All because of Childe.

She readjusted her backpack, walking out the door. “Do what you want; I’m going home.”

He didn’t stop her. 

When the door shut behind her, Lumine ran as fast as she could, not even bothering to wait for the bus; she ran all the way home, trying her best to hold back her tears. 

Arriving home, she went straight to her room, ignoring Aether’s worried questioning, and laid face down on her bed. Her heart felt like it was going to burst.

The prospect that her future was going down the drain loomed over her shoulder like a thick, black cloud. On the other hand, her head felt like it was on fire: all the frustration and anger—at Childe for being there and finding her, and at herself for being so careless—bubbling over. 

She let out a quiet scream of frustration into her pillow, then sat up. She slipped off her hand wraps, taking a deep breath. 

No. She wasn’t going to let someone like Childe ruin everything she had worked for. 

She grabbed an energy drink from her bag, sat down at her desk, and continued studying through the night. 

Now isn’t the time to give up. 

* * *

It had been three days. Three days since Lumine had run into Childe at the arena. And yet, not a single person came to her asking questions, expelling her, arresting her. 

Did...did Childe really not tell anyone? Lumine wondered as she walked through the hallways. She had barely seen him at school these past few days—only brief glimpses of him in the crowded halls. He hadn’t even been stirring up trouble like he usually did. 

Maybe he’s still planning to do something with the information, Lumine reasoned. Or...maybe...he feels sympathy. 

Whatever it was, Lumine was glad nothing had happened. It seemed like her life was carrying on like normal. Maybe it had just been some crazy nightmare she dreamed up.

“Lumine!” a cheerful voice called. 

She turned, finding her friend, Xiangling skipping towards her, along with her other friend, Mona.

“Xiangling. Mona,” she greeted happily. 

“What’s wrong, Lumi?” Xiangling asked. “Your face was all scrunched up.”

The blonde offered a small smile. “Really? I guess I was just thinking about stuff.”

“Perhaps your duties as President are too strenuous,” Mona said. “I always find it relaxing to destress in a bath of honey and rose petals.” 

Xiangling’s eyes glittered. “Sounds yummy…” She shook her head. “Ah, forget that! We’re here to ask you to help us!” 

“Some inconsiderate brutes left their gym equipment in the stairwell, blocking the entrance to our club rooms,” Mona explained. 

Lumine sighed. “Let me take a look.” 

The three travelled across the courtyard, coming to a stop outside the club activities building where many clubs had their meeting rooms, including Xiangling’s cooking club and Mona’s astrology club. 

Blocking the stairwell was, indeed, a pile of heavy-looking punching bags. 

“Left by the boxing club, no doubt,” Lumine muttered. She turned to her friends. “No worries, I’ll get these out of your way, then have a talk with the boxing club about this.” 

“But they look really heavy…,” Xiangling said.

Mona raised her brows. “Will you be able to lift those on your own?” 

No different than lifting weights. Considering her fight training, the bags would be extremely easy for Lumine to move. However, of course, to everyone who didn’t know her intense training, she was of a small stature, the punching bags very obviously bigger than her. 

But it was her friends who needed help, and they wouldn’t be overly suspicious of her. 

“It’s fine,” Lumine reassured. “It’s just like...physics, right?” Judo, more like. “I just have to utilize my center of gravity versus its weight.” 

She grabbed the chain at the top of the bag, positioning it so it sat on her shoulder. Then, she swung her leg back, kicking the bottom while simultaneously pulling it, sending it flying over her shoulder, and out of the way. Just like a judo flip. She repeated it for the other bags until the staircase was cleared. 

“Wooow,” Xiangling sighed in awe. “You’re amazing, Lumi!”

“Very much so,” Mona agreed. 

Before Lumine could say it was no big deal, Xiangling leaned in a bit. 

“Say, isn’t that Childe, looking this way?” the cook whispered. 

The three glanced in the direction she was looking, and sure enough, the tall ginger was standing nearby, his blue eyes fixed on Lumine. 

Immediately, Lumine felt her fists clench. “Need something?” she gritted out. 

He blinked at her, then let out an amused chuckle, turning and walking away. Lumine glared daggers into his back until he was out of sight. 

“He’s so cool,” Xiangling said dreamily. “And so handsome.” 

Lumine rolled her eyes. Xiangling fawned over anyone remotely good-looking like they were food. She remembered a time when the cook looked at her like she was the best roast pig on the market. 

“He may have the looks,” Mona conceded, “but unfortunately, he doesn’t seem very interested in girls. He’s rejected every single confession he’s ever gotten—and that’s a lot.” The pigtailed witch put her hands on her hips. “Not very good karma in the stars for him, if you ask me.” 

Oh. Lumine almost laughed. Maybe he just didn’t tell anyone because he’s not interested?

Yes, that must be it. He was so uninterested, it would serve him no purpose to meddle in her life. 

Hopefully that means he stops causing me trouble wherever he goes. 

* * * 

Childe. 

Childe was in her manager’s office. 

Before any fight, Lumine had to report to the overseer of the arena, a man named Kaeya Alberich; he was in charge of paying her, and was the only person in the arena who knew her true identity. He had let her continue fighting because she was good at it—and he was in the business of putting on a good show. 

And now, Kaeya was talking to Childe. 

“What’s the meaning of this?” Lumine asked. 

Next to Kaeya, Childe gave her a smile like nothing was wrong. 

“Lumine! Perfect timing,” Kaeya said. “We have a proposition for you.”

“We?”

“Yes, me and Tartaglia here were discussing your future in this field,” Kaeya explained. 

Lumine’s face scrunched in confusion. “Tartaglia?” she echoed, looking at Childe, who innocently nodded. 

“Of course! Where are my manners? Lumine, this is Tartaglia; he’s a very prominent figure in our...community.” The older gentleman smiled. “And Tartaglia says he already knows who you are?” 

“We’re friends,” Childe supplied. 

“Friends?” Kaeya chuckled. “Lumine, you should have told me you knew Tartaglia.” 

“I don’t,” Lumine interjected. 

“We have a very odd way of joking,” the ginger said, winking at Lumine. 

Kaeya shrugged. “Anyhow, let’s get down to business.” He looked at Lumine. “How do you feel about Tartaglia being your new coach?”

Lumine choked on her spit. My...coach?!

“What...what does that mean?” she managed to get out. 

“Well, we both agreed that you seem like… a big fish in a small pond nowadays,” Alberich explained. 

“As your coach,” Childe said. “I can get you into different fighting arenas with my connections. More room for you to grow. And of course, more money.” 

“No,” Lumine said, almost instantaneously. Both men made a face. She continued, narrowing her eyes at Childe, “I don’t need your help.” Childe crossed his arms. 

Kaeya let out a nervous laugh. “Now, now, Lumine, this could be really good for you—”

“I’ll see you after the match for payment.” With that, Lumine rapidly left the room. 

Who the hell did Childe think he was? Barging into her life like this? 

She didn’t take handouts. If she wanted something, she’d get it, on her own. After her father left her family heartbroken and penniless, she learned that the hard way: she couldn’t rely on anyone else. 

During her match that night, she saw Childe sitting in one of the front rows, his eyes never leaving her. 

Damned creep, she thought as her fist slammed into her opponent, effectively winning the match. The crowd’s cheers swelled. See? I’m perfectly fine on my own. 

* * * 

“U-Uhm, Madame President?” Bennett called nervously. 

Lumine looked up from her laptop as she was typing in preparation for the student council meeting later. “Yes, Bennett?” 

“I, uhm, may have misplaced some of my reports for this week,” he admitted. 

Aether offered a smile. “That’s okay, Bennet,” Aether reassured. “We’ll go look for them.”

Lumine sighed and shook her head. “We have to turn them in tonight.” Knowing Bennett’s luck, the reports were probably at the bottom of the ocean somehow. “I’ll just rewrite them all later.”

Her twin looked at her, concerned. “Lumine, that’s a lot of work. Let me write them.”

Bennett tried to offer to rewrite them as well, but Lumine held her hand up. “I’m the President, it’s nothing to me. You two just worry about your other council duties, okay?” 

Bennett and Aether exchanged defeated looks—their President was stubborn, and once she had her mind set on something, there was no way of convincing her otherwise. 

Later, as the sun cast its sunset oranges through the windows of the empty school, Lumine still remained, hard at work typing away Bennett’s missing reports. 

Her head ached, but she still had a mountain of homework and student council paperwork to finish, not to mention preparing for work tonight. She let out a fit of coughs, before forcing herself to return to her work. 

“So I figure you’re some type of masochist,” Childe’s voice rang from the doorway. 

Lumine sighed, not having enough energy to be angry. “Do you need something?” she asked. 

“You know, you’ve practically worked yourself to death these past few days,” he said. “While I admire your resilience, it’s not healthy.” 

She stood, ready to throw him out of the room so she could go back to working in peace, but her head started swimming, the room becoming blurry around her, and she stumbled. Oh no—

Before she fell back, however, Childe was behind her, catching her. 

Within a second of his hands on her, she righted herself, shoving him away. “I don’t need your help,” she seethed. 

His expression was unreadable, his mouth in a tight line. “I see,” he said, robotically, before walking out of the room. 

Breathing heavily, she sat back in her chair, hand on her burning forehead. Shit…

* * * 

Just make it through the match. Just make it through the match. Lumine kept chanting to herself.

She was definitely coming down with something, her whole body rolling with heat, but she couldn’t afford to let it affect her—not when she had so many things that needed to get done. 

She wished Aether was with her, he would’ve made her feel better. But he was called in for work tonight at the grocery store, so she walked through the run-down streets alone. 

She was in a more dangerous part of town, but she and Aether had figured out certain routes to walk where they didn’t run into anyone else. 

Tonight, however, Lumine noticed a lone man coming towards her. She clenched her fist, ready to strike if needed. She got closer and closer to him, her muscles tensing with each step. 

She passed him, and nearly let out a sigh of relief. 

Suddenly, he grabbed her wrist from behind, twisting her arm against her back. 

Lumine cried out in shock, weakly trying to break out of his grasp. On any other night she could have easily taken him. Damn this sickness—!

She couldn’t stop him as his other hand inched closer to her jacket. She closed her eyes.

WHAM!

Lumine felt her arm get released, and she opened her eyes, turning around. 

The man who attacked her was on the ground, knocked out, and Childe stood over him, shaking out his hand after his powerful punch. 

“Childe?” she breathed out. Feeling lightheaded again, she found herself reaching out for him, unable to speak. 

Again, he caught her, but this time she didn’t force him away.

His hand was on her forehead, his other hand wrapped around her waist to support her. “You’re burning up,” he said. 

She swallowed the lump in her throat. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m sorry, Childe.” 

He softly chuckled. “It’s okay. Just rest now,” he murmured back. 

Nodding against his hand, she let herself relax, for the first time in forever. All her exhaustion came flooding in, and she quickly passed out in Childe’s arms. 

* * *

[part 3]

[raindownforme]

Writing Event

Hi! I was tagged by @jschllatt for a writing event, and this is for her!

———

5. Charlie slimecicle x reader [they/them used] (reader had freckles for context)

y/n stirred in their sleep, doing their best to shift with the almost unfamiliar weight. Almost, as if they didn’t know what it felt like to have someone else laying on top of them.

“Charlie?”

“No no no, go back to sleep.”

y/n peeked one eye open, looking at their boyfriend. Charlie was lazily propped up on one arm, the rest of his weight draped over y/n’s once sleeping self.

“Good morning I guess.” y/n tried to move, but found themself still stuck under Charlie. He had a leg wrapped between theirs and a hand holding the side of their face. “Can I get up yet?”

“No wait I’m counting.” Charlie’s voice was hushed, just above a whisper. y/n watched him squint as he focused on various points of their face.

“Maybe you’d be quicker if you put your glasses on.”

Charlie gasped, letting go of y/n’s face to reach over to the bedside table. He returned with his glasses resting on his nose, starting to fall off from the angle. “Okay. Now I have to start over.”

“Do we have to do this right now?” y/n yawned.

“Aw, you’re adorable. And yes I do.”

“Babe, I want to get up. Can you do this later? Some other time I’m asleep?”

“Fine I’ll stop counting.”

“Thank you.”

“Now it’s time to play connect-the-dots!” Charlie pulled y/n closer with his legs. He began to very gently drag his finger across the surface of y/n’s skin, following made-up patterns and lines.

y/n hummed lowly, feigning annoyance with their boyfriend. “Can you stop playing connect-the-dots with my freckles?”

Charlie drew back his touch. “Fine.” He rolled over, releasing y/n from his weight, and rolled over.

y/n propped themselves upright, frowning. “Don’t tell me you’re upset?”

Charlie mumbled a response and y/n leaned closer to try and hear him. He leaned closer a bit as well, repeating himself. “I wanted to see.”

“They aren’t even patterns, it’s just dots.”

“No, these ones-“ Charlie turned back and very gently put his thumb over the side of their face, right over where the cheek bones began and to the side of the outer corner of their eye. “It’s almost a triangle shape. Or a couple triangles. There a couple patterns, you just don’t see them.”

y/n paused, almost freezing under Charlie’s touch, then leaned into the contact. “Fine.”

“Fine?”

“Get back here and keep counting loser.”

y/n opened their arms, allowing Charlie to get back to his previous position in the shared bed and continue happily connecting the dots.

———

8. Charlie Slimecicle x reader [they/them]

y/n shivered. It was that kind of early morning cold. The being on a leather car seat while the wind whipped outside. The early morning chill of January.

y/n and Charlie knew this was coming. They’d known for two months know. Earlier, in the beginning of November when they planned the trip, neither one of them felt the sadness they feel now. They’d both been happy; y/n had the ability to come stay the whole month with Charlie. Usually, the couple could only see each other a few weeks out of the year. Usually it was Charlie with the looser schedule, and usually that made Charlie the one to drive or fly the distance between them.

y/n stared out the window lazily. There weren’t very many people out on the roads at this hour. They watched the grey industrial buildings pass as Charlie turned into the airport, going up to the third floor of the parking garage and finding an empty spot.

y/n quietly and slowly unbuckled themself from the car. They left the car, turning to see Charlie already holding their large suitcase. y/n smiled at him, small tears coming to their eyes. They reached out politely, trying to take it from him.

“No I want it.”

“It’s okay, it’s not even yours.”

“Let me. Please?”

y/n gave in with a smile, taking Charlie’s free hand in theirs as they let Charlie lead them into the airport. They made their way across the patterned carpet to the check-desk.

“Hi there.” There was a lone employee working the front desk. She extended a hand outwards. “Boarding pass and ID please?” y/n fished though their carry-on bag, bringing forth the paper and plastic card. The employee scanned it and looked over at their computer. “Alright, just you y/n?”

“Yes.” y/n knew it wasn’t meant to be cruel, but the words still dug at their skin and itched at their bones. Just them. No Charlie. They’d be alone. Again.

“Alright. That’ll be gate 36B. Unfortunately, sir, you can’t come to the gate.”

“What the farthest I can come?” Charlie glanced over to y/n.

“Just to TSA.”

“Is there any way?”

“I’m sorry I can only bend that rule if you’re accompanying a minor.”

Charlie nodded and the couple walked away. They walked towards the large LED bord that displayed the flight information. y/n watched Charlie scan it with squinted eyes.

“401 right? Flight 401? We’ve got— shit.” Charlie frowned. “40 minutes. We move gotta get you through security.”

“We?”

Charlie looked back to y/n. They had tears brimming their eyes and were fiddling with a loose string on the sleeve of their sweater. They were still wearing Charlie’s sweater.

“I guess I can’t take you any further.”

“I know that.”

“You don’t have to get mad at me.” Charlie frowned at y/n. He set their bag to the side and gently took the carry-on from their shoulders, placing it near the bag. Charlie pulled them closer, wrapping his body around them and leaning his head against the top of theirs. “I’ll see you again.”

“But when?” y/n did their best to not cry, but it seemed impossible in this moment. They were tired. They were cold. And they had to leave the person they cared for more than anything within the next ten minutes.

“I don’t know. Valentine’s Day? I can try and drive over in maybe April?”

“But that’s such a long drive. God why can’t this be fucking easier?” y/n groaned against Charlie’s shoulder, grasping onto his shirt tighter with their fists. “It took me so long to save for this and I don’t know— I don’t know anything.”

“Then move in with me.”

“What?” y/n looked at Charlie with a strange smile. It wasn’t the first time Charlie had suggested the idea, but they’d only been dating for a few months the last time it was mentioned. Now they were a year and 6 months deep and it was the first it had been mentioned in a while.

“Or I’ll move in with you. We wouldn’t have to be separated, and I could work virtually anywhere.”

“We don’t have— I don’t have room at my place for a streaming set up.”

“We can get an all new place. Just us. We can go look around when I’m down there.”

y/n thought for a moment. “Alright. You better hurry then.”

“Of course.”

The two stood in silence for a minute, still hugging. y/n glanced over at the clock that hung near the LED display. “I gotta go. I still gotta get through security.”

“No. Wait, don’t pull away… not yet.” Charlie pressed y/n even closer, leaving light kisses on the top of their head and the side of their face. “I love you. Please text me when you land. Like seriously.”

“I will I will. I love you too.”

“Okay.” Charlie let y/n go. He handed them all their stuff and stepped back, taking them in before not seeing them for the next few weeks. “How many other sweater did you steal?”

“Only two more, but I think I deserve them.”

“Alright.” Charlie laughed a bit. “Go get on your flight.”

“I love you.”

“I love you.”

Charlie watched silently as y/n made their way through security. It took them almost five minutes, but once on the other side, they sent a sad wave to Charlie and walked off to the gates. Charlie waited a moment, hesitating, then made the walk to his car alone. He crossed the airport street alone. He walked in the parking garage alone. And he got in his car and drove home. Alone.

———

12. Canon! Charlie slimecicle x reader [they/them used]

Las Nevadas was on fire. The water feature had died out hours ago. The casino was crumbling to stone. The tower had been cut in half. The strip club had been shattered. The restaurant had been torn apart. The roads were destroyed. The toll bridge had collapsed.

But they won, right?

Quackity stood alone. He watched his allies from a short distance. Foolish supported Purpled’s weight as he leaned against the god with a broken leg. Fundy rested against a wall, panting and covered in blood that didn’t belong to himself. Sam was no where to be seen, but they knew he was still alive.

But Slime? He was running. He was running in a large circle, searching through rubble and ash as he shouted.

“y/n?” Y/N?” He leaned on his hands and knees in the sand. His suit had been ruined for a long time now. The seams of his button up shirt had begun to rip in battle, the bottom of his pant legs had been singed and torn and blackened by the battle, and he wore only one suspender now, the other one much too weak and quite easily forgotten. He did not wear his tie, however he knew who was wearing it. “y/n?”

“Quackity,” Fundy looked upwards to his ally. “We can’t let him.”

Quackity ran a shaky, blood-stained hand down the front of his own suit in a nervous manner. “He has to find out somehow. Do you want to tell him?”

Fundy didn’t say anything, instead watching his friend run around. “Y/N!”

“This is cruel.” Foolish whispered to Purpled. The young boy could only nod in agreement, just a little too weak to do much else. Foolish, realizing this, helped the teen move over to sit next to Fundy, resting him against the crumbling wall of the fountain. Foolish turned around with the intent to aid Slime in his search, but was stopped by a simple hand placed upon his shoulder.

Quackity stood to the left of Foolish. He could see Quackity do his best to hold in the tears that had already left small tracks through the dust that had settled over Quackity’s face. “Just— let him. I can’t tell him. I can’t.”

The group watched Slime dig by hand. The rouble almost phased through his skin, but he kept digging. When he got too frustrated by one building, he ran to the next one, repeating the process. They watched on in pain for only a minute longer. Fundy looked to Foolish and Quackity. “Do we know where-?”

“Y/N.” Slime screamed in utter joy, pulling out y/n from the rubble. He proudly carried them back over to where Quackity and the rest of the group sat, gently setting them down on the ruined pavement. He kneeled with them, resting their head in his lap. Slime very gently carded his fingers through their hair, seeming to think to himself. He reached deep into the pocket of his pants, pulling out a neon pink healing potion.

Foolish shrugged off Quackity’s grasp and walked over to where Slime sat. He kneeled down next to the green guy, placing a hand on his shoulder to try and pull him away. “Slime, buddy—“

“Let me go.” Slime’s voice was gentle and somehow mature. He spoke sadly, but also as though he understood what was happening still. “I can still save them. I know I can.”

Foolish glanced back to the group to watch Quackity shake his head solemnly. “Buddy, I know it’s hard-“

“No, I promised.” Slime’s voice began to shake. He desperately poured the potion over the parts of y/n’s body where damage was obvious; bruises from the crushing rubble, burns from the fires and explosions, and the gaping cauterized sword wound to their abdomen. Slime smiled as he gazed at their peaceful face. It almost looked like they were sleeping. “I promised them.”

“Promised what buddy?”

“I told them everyone turns to dust and goes away, but I promised them I wouldn’t let it happen. I’ve seen it happen. I watched it. And I wouldn’t let them turn to dust.” Slime leaned down, pressing a light kiss to y/n’s forehead. He stayed close, whispering to the corpse in his lap. “Im so sorry.”

Foolish placed a hand on Slime’s shoulder again, trying to pull him away. “Buddy-“

“No!” He pushed Foolish away, leaning closer to y/n and holding them in a protective embrace. Slime gently laid a hand on y/n wrist, feeling the material of his neck tie in a knot around it. “I can still help them, please just let me— let me save them. Please.”

The group sat in silence. Slime’s shoulders shook as he sobbed over y/n’s body. Fundy and Quackity wiped away a few tears as well, listening to their friend wail into the night.

———

14. Charlie slimecicle x reader [they/them]

“Listen, man, hurry up. We were supposed to leave twenty minutes ago.” Schlatt leaned back into the plush leather seat, resting a hand over his eyes.

Charlie sighed, looking over the stuff he’d piled on the couch. He huffed, looking around. “Okay. I’ve got my phone, charger, wallet, jacket, I’m dressed, teeth brushed, what the fuck am I forgetting?”

“Uh, buddy.” Ted cleared his throat and tapped at the side of his face. Charlie paused for a moment, squinting before realizing what he missed.

“My glasses! My goddamn glasses. Alright gimme a minute.”

The two boys watched Charlie walk back down the hall of Ted’s apartment. Schlatt groaned and lazily stood up from his seat. He walked over to the small pile of Charlie’s stuff and began sorting through.

“What are you doing?”

“If I can find these faster, maybe we can actually get out of here.” Schlatt stuck his hands into the pockets of Charlie’s jacket. “Hate this fucking smog— oh.”

“Oh?” Ted sat up slightly, watching Schlatt pull a small black velvet box out. “Oh. Oh! Holy fuck.”

“Did he talk to you about this?” Schlatt dropped the volume of his voice, trying to not alert Charlie.

“No not at all. Is it for y/n?”

“I guess.” Ted and Schlatt had never met y/n in person before, only talking when they would be nearby if Charlie was in a discord call. But the two knew that Charlie loved them dearly, he talked about them whenever he got the chance. He boasted about anything y/n did, anywhere they went, any thing he could say.

“Do we— do we give him advice? Do we say anything?”

“Do you have advice to give someone who’s about to propose?”

Schlatt bit the inside of his lip. Instead of responding to Ted, he opened the box and his eyes went wide. “Holy shit dude.”

“What?” Ted got up and walked over to Schlatt’s side. The ring Charlie had gotten was beautiful; a silver band with ornate vines that held very small diamonds, all encasing a round amber gem. Ted very gently took the box from Schlatt, rotating it back and forth to see how the light glimmered on the gemstones.

“Ted this is… where’d he even get that?”

“I don’t know.” Ted stared into the ring. “We shouldn’t be hanging this. We should put it back.”

“Why do I want to wear it?”

“Why do you?”

Schlatt took the box from Ted, staring at it for a moment, then put it back in the coat pocket. He shuffled the jacket around, trying to make the setting look natural. “Now wha—“

“Okay I found it.” Charlie ran out of the room, rubbing at the glass with his shirt material. “What are we standing about?”

“Nothing.” Ted turned to Charlie quickly, awkwardly smiling. “Ready?”

The three boys made their way from Ted’s home to his car, then out onto the streets of Hollywood, headed towards Santa Monica. It was only a half-hour drive, and no one had too much to say.

“So. Charles.” Ted glanced at his friend in the backseat through the rear view mirror. “How are you and y/n doing?”

Schlatt made a pointed look at Ted as Charlie began talking. “We’re great! They got this really big job and we’re going to celebrate when I get back. There’s this restaurant downtown that’s so pretty— it’s their favorite! I mean, it was going to be a surprise, but hopefully it all goes well.”

Schlatt, thought for a moment, catching on to what Ted was thinking. “Is there something that needs to go well? It’s just dinner isn’t it?”

“Actually, can I tell you both about something?”

“Yes.” They both answered in unison, turning to look at Charlie as they stopped at the red light.

“Well, I wanted to, at dinner, I mean we weren’t doing dinner until I get back home, but I have this.” Both boys held their breath as Charlie went fishing in his jacket pockets. It took him a few minutes to procure the small black box, but eventually his found it and held it forwards, showing it off to his friends.

“Wow. Proposing?” Schlatt laid surprise thick into his voice, and thankfully Charlie didn’t notice.

“Yeah! I picked it out myself. Here look.” Charlie opened up the box, showing off the gems that sparkled in the sunlight. Schlatt glanced up at Ted who stared forwards at the 10 freeway.

“That’s really cool, thanks for telling us.”

Charlie frowned. “Is it not as good idea? You don’t sound that excited.”

“No it’s a great idea! I mean obviously we don’t know y/n as well.” Schlatt gestured to himself and Ted. “But it’s obvious you love them. I mean look at you, buying a ring and everything. Making dinner plans, Charlie this is amazing.”

“Also Schlatt found the ring earlier.”

Schlatt smacked Ted on the arm, sending him a glare. “So you guys knew?” Charlie smacked the box shut.

“Not on purpose. I was trying to find your glasses and I just happened across it. You didn’t hide it very well.”

“I—“

Ted laid on the horn, repeatedly honking at the Tesla that had cut him off. “Son of a mother fucker.”

“Starting to hate LA?”

Ted peered over at Schallt with a glare, then went back to driving. “We are happy for you Charlie, we were just kind of waiting for you to mention it to us.”

“Yeah, and we want to meet y/n! It’s been two years now?”

“Of course you can.” Charlie scratched at the back of his neck. “I’m just scared? I don’t know. I mean, I’ve never felt so strongly about anyone before. I’m terrified.”

“Hey, you’ll be okay. It’s y/n. You fly home tomorrow right?” Charlie nodded. “Let us know how it goes man. I’m invested now.”

Charlie laughed. “Alright. Tomorrow.”

Tomorrow, Charlie took the 7 hour flight home. In that same day, Ted and Schlatt each received a picture of y/n wearing the engagement ring around their finger, both them and Charlie smiling wide.

———

Congrats Nat on getting 1k!

[cher-writes]

Silver Screen / Silver Pole | Robert Sheehan x Reader (18+)

Summary: A night of celebration in a LA strip club takes an interesting and unexpected turn when a contrarian actor winds up offending the wrong stripper. But night is long and the possibilities are endless, where will it take them?

Word Count: 7.3k

CW: Mention of sexual harassment, Consensual slapping, NSFW smut

A/N: This one is surprisingly not bloody at all and the smut isn't wild either so like most everyone can read it. Although it's emotionally very heavy. So, get ready to feel some shit. Hopefully you'll enjoy.

Special thanks to @crisis-of-joy for being there for me the whole month I took to complete this emotionally taxing fic and also for being my kind beta reader & editor.

Burning on it’s way down, the third glass of whiskey finally gave her some life she desperately needed. Deafening music throbbed throughout her veins, drowning the club in the background. She wanted to drown with it too but she couldn’t, she was there to work and rent for the month was already due. The fourth glass was on the verge of meeting with her bitter mouth when she felt a hand on her shoulder.

“Don’t drink so much, you’ll trip on the stage,” Coco practically shouted in her ear. Coco was the only friend she had in that goddamn place and It wasn’t a very rare occurrence that Coco had to drag her blackout drunk body out of the club. It wasn’t an exaggeration to say she had a problem. Considering that she was already on her third strike of the month and the third drink of the night, Coco knew better than to let her get drunk this early.

 “I can’t stay here and be sober at the same time,” she shouted back at Coco, “especially after...nevermind,” but decided against talking about it and instead focused her energy on finishing the fourth glass, which was gone just as quickly as the words stopped coming out of her mouth.

 She could read the concern on Coco's face and sense the questions brewing behind it as Coco spoke up, “I want to know what the fuck is up with you but I have to go now, Caleb came home from school hours ago, it’s pretty late and I have to cook him dinner.”

“What happened to Larry? Can’t he take care of the kid? He’s fucking jobless anyway.”

“He got in a bad fight again. I can barely afford Caleb’s school fees and now the medical bills.”

“If only you had divorced him, you wouldn’t need to worry about it.”

“And if only you had been less violent towards customers, you wouldn’t be on the verge of getting fired. But, here we are.”

She furrowed her brows at this sudden sharp stab of truth by Coco and dealt with it the only way she knew how to, by ordering another drink. Coco crossed her arms letting out a deep sigh and said, “Look, I'm only trying to help you, (y/n). Sam wanted me to go up. You see that group seating in the fifth VIP booth? Up there. They are celebs and celebrating something so, ya know, good money. I said no cause, as I said I gotta go home, but I convinced him to let you go up there. It was hard given your recent less-than-favorable behavior, but I managed to.” Coco snatched the already empty glass from her hand and continued, “So stop drinking, go up there and get that money. And for the love of God, behave yourself or this might be your last night here.”

Giving her hand a quick but tight squeeze, Coco got up then soon after disappeared into the crowd. She thought to herself about how a last night there wouldn’t be so bad if she could afford it, and wanted another drink immediately to kill that thought, but Coco's words haunted her ears. She looked over her shoulder to see three men sitting in the booth, laughing.

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

Her head was in a violent swirl, vision blurry. She was way too drunk to be spinning around the pole, but she had an audience to entertain and had no one but herself to blame.

When you walked around your house wearin' my sky blue Lacoste, the song was thudding against her skull. Pulling herself together, she counted every second, waiting for the song to end. She could feel the eyes on her, sticking to every bit of her, just as invasive as it was the very first day yet, she couldn’t care less. She had to live through it if she wanted the money and she needed the money if she wanted to live. The room was dancing circles around her as the tips came flying in, she kept counting the seconds, sliding down the pole, and your knee socks.

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

She was swaying dangerously on her way down from the stage. If the song didn’t end when it did, she would have thrown up without a shadow of a doubt. At that point, she didn’t even know how or what she danced, only the awful sickness in her stomach let her know that it was more than she could take.

She needed to chat up the men, try and convince them to buy a champagne room before the next song came on, which she feared was way too soon for her liking. Nevertheless she tried to steady herself but the big glass platforms messed with her earnest efforts, nausea kicking her in the stomach once again, letting her know of her limits. 

She didn’t ever really look at the men who sat in front of her, leering at her, they all looked the same, smelt the same and talked the same. So she followed the same old routine, bending down just enough to give them a view up her tits. Pressing her arms closer, she slurred, “What are we celebrating, gentlemen?”

 She absolutely hated how she sounded pandering to men, two pitches higher. “My friend over here landed a role in a Spielberg film!” the middle one spoke up and pointed to the one sitting on the right side. The one in question grinned in response and repulsion licked the back of her neck at the sight of that. Yet she needed to please him, “That’s amazing! I’m sure I’ll be seeing your face on the billboards everyday now while driving,” she said and fantasized about having enough money to burn down all the billboards in LA and maybe LA with it too.

 “Hell yeah you will!” the one in the middle spoke up and broke her reverie so she pretended he was supporting her fantasy instead. “Oh please! Speak for yourself!” the one on the right perked up in his seat and continued, “He’s literally working with Fincher AND he got engaged!”. The one in the middle gave a revolting smirk at the very humble revelation of his accomplishment and it was enough to turn her stomach or maybe it was the alcohol, she couldn’t really decipher.

 “Oh really?” she looked at the man, tilted her head and said, “And you came to a stripclub to celebrate your engagement?”, her face deadpan. Notes of contempt stuck out like thorns from her voice, making her sound way more intense than she intended to.

 He tensed up visibly at her sudden razor-edged tone and, even though she didn't want to, she had to ease the situation. I can’t piss off these bastards again, she kept repeating to herself like a mantra. “Boys will be boys!” she said, not being able to think of something better that wasn’t inherently insulting, and laughed the most disgusting laugh of her life. If she could she would pour gasoline down her throat just for uttering those words.

 She couldn’t bear to linger at that conversation point anymore so she turned her attention to the man sitting on the far left. He looked distant and foreign, staring but not really looking at her. There was a peculiar absence behind his distinct green eyes, which she would even call beautiful under different circumstances. And that, something about that absence, made her want to zero in on him.

“And what about you? Did you win an Oscar or something?” mockery ringed clear in her voice, which brought his attention back to the presence. Startled slightly, he straightened his posture while saying, “No, not really... not yet at least,” he smiled sheepishly and continued, “I’m just here with them”.

“Come to think about it, I’ve never really seen you anywhere,” she said without thinking too much. In fact, she didn’t really pay enough attention to how he looked to recognize him even if she did. 

Something intense flashed his eyes for a brief second. She couldn’t quite put her fingers on what it was but she could feel the energy shift very quickly between them.

“Oh I’ve been in things but I’d be surprised if you did see any of them,” his voice now stripped of the delicacy it previously held. She could feel the air between them getting unusually heavy, his words penetrating through her skin a bit too effortlessly, a bit too swiftly that it was unsettling.   

“And why exactly would you be surprised?”

“You know...cause people like you don’t usually watch the kind of films I do.”

“What do you mean by ‘people like me?’”

“You know...people of your...stature,” he trailed off. Blood rushed the back of her neck as soon as the words hit her ears. She could feel her vision burning, a hot wave washed the crown of her skull, something unruly building at the base of her being. Clenching her jaw so as not to let it take over her, she said, “Stature huh? Fancy! I reckon from your accent that, wherever the hell you’re from, people get a kick out of looking down on others with such wispy language.”

 She could sense the same unruly substance dancing behind his chest, but he was far better at keeping it on a leash.

“I wasn’t looking down upon you. What I was merely getting at is that some people aren’t cut for apprehending particular types of films,” he sounded snarky but calm, the type of calm that’s tainted with scorn, which only sent ripples of rage down her ribs.

  “Oh so you think just because I’m a stripper by profession that I wouldn’t understand your low-budget dumb indie movies?” she was getting visibly worked up now. Traces of her seductive posture vanished long ago but there was a new hostile energy flowing through her stance.

“I didn’t say that -”

“No, of course you didn’t say that, you only meant that. You meant what you think and every one of you think that we aren’t people with brains and emotions. No, no, we’re just sacks of meat to ogle at in exchange of money, and then grope when you can’t keep it in your pants.”

“I think you're trying to put words in my mouth, this is -”

“God! you think you’re fucking better than me, don’t you? You contrarian little shit!” she could feel it in her bones. She knew what was coming. There were people behind, or maybe beside, her, trying to talk to her, probably. She could hear no one, not even the previously unbearable blaring music. She had tunnel vision and it was fixed on him. The air she breathed chafed her nose. Her nerves thumped as her heart leapt at irregular rapid intervals.

  “Excuse me! but i neve -” he said as his body went alert. Posture anticipating something violent, flight or fight.

  “You think you're better than me because I'm a stripper and you got enough money to buy me?” her voice was icy as she spoke, “You LA people are all the fucking same. You get a little money in your pockets and you think you own the world and anyone who isn’t jerking off to your pretentious bullshit isn’t worthy enough to deserve basic fucking decency. Huh is that it?” she quickly jumped on top of him, straddling him.

He was frozen under her as she leaned in and murmured, “Well then allow me to show you”, she pulled away, her left hand clutching his shoulder as right fist rose the air, “HOW FUCKING BETTER THAN ME YOU ARE!” then her fist crashed on the side of his mouth with all the force she could muster, releasing a knot built in her chest since she checked in with the manager in the evening. Hot, sweltering adrenaline was coursing through her veins.

 The impact resulted in him burying his face in his right shoulder so she grabbed a fistful of his hair and forced him to face her. His lips were starting to swell up so she decided to help it. His eyes went blank as her fist met his face once more.

 Involuntarily, her hand was raising in the air again when she felt a strong pull from behind. The security guard, twice her size, yanked her away from him. People gathered around them staring at her, the music stopped to her relief. The guard twisted her arms behind her back, enough to leave bruises that’ll sting for days to come. She couldn't move, her sight went hazy yet she felt this strange cool serenity soothe her tensed muscles. His friends were crowding him, probably consoling him. She could neither hear them nor make out their faces from her almost closed eyelids. She was pretty sure she was falling asleep in the guard’s painful hold until she heard a certain voice and the hair at the back of her neck stood up. 

“What the fuck! She’s at it AGAIN? Sir, I'm so sorry -” Sam, the manager’s voice pierced her ears as he rushed into the booth. As he was talking to them, commotion rose in the background. She could feel blind rage beating with every thump of her heart. If it wasn’t for the guard holding her in place, she would have skinned him alive by now. She was struggling to free herself when Sam turned to her and said, “You! That’s it!” pointing his left index at her. “I’ve had just about enough of your drunkass assaulting fine gentlemen. You’re fired. Get out right now! And be grateful we’re not reporting you to the police.”

Suddenly everything went quiet in her head. She smiled, nothing behind her gaze. Grinning ear to ear like a maniac, she said, “I’m fired? Aww what’s gonna happen to you now Sam?”. She cooed, ''Whose tits and ass are you gonna grab from now on? Stella? I wonder if she’ll compare to me though.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Sam almost hissed at her.

“Ohhh right! Of course, you don’t know what I’m talking about,” she said while still tussling with whatever little strength she had left to loosen herself from the guard’s excruciating grip. “You don’t know anything about how you sexually harassed me day after day, how your disgusting, slimy little hands grabbed my body against my will at every chance that you got. You knew how much I need the money from this job and you used that against me to keep me silent, threatening to fire me every time I made even a sound. But guess what fucker? I’m fired now! And I’m gonna tell everyone about HOW YOU TRIED TO -”

“Take her to the staff room!” Sam cut her off, “NOW!” And, as soon as the words left Sam's mouth, the guard put his palm over her mouth and started dragging her back. The hand over her mouth muffled her screams and she glanced at the man, now with swollen lips, looking at her with eyes filled with, what looked like, concern.

As she was getting dragged, she finally managed to sink her teeth into the guard’s palm resulting in him withdrawing his hand just enough to give her a small window of time to scream at Sam: “YOU MOTHERFUCKER I’LL BE BACK AND I’LL PEEL THE SKIN OFF OF YOUR SCALP FUCKING SON OF A BITCH I’LL -” Before she could finish, her voice got cut off again and she faded into the dimly lit passageway at the back of the floor.

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

The cherry of her fifth cigarette shone brightly in the shivering cold as the smoke drifted up in the air and sluggishly faded away. Mouth agape, her eyes meticulously followed the faint trails left after their disappearance. She wondered where they went, where she’ll go. If it wasn’t this late, and the water wasn’t so cold, maybe she could have gone for a swim in the ocean. If the water wasn’t so cold maybe she would have let it swallow her even. She was calculating the probable temperature of the hypothetical water she’d marry someday when the sound of slow approaching footsteps entered her field of perception. She would have preferred to ignore it but the, somehow already familiar, voice spoke up, “Hey erm...” and left her no choice but to look. And there he was, the foreign man with the swollen lip, looking culpable. There were distinct imprints of guilt in his voice as he continued, “I saw you across the parking lot…um I was actually just leaving with my friends,” he pointed at a black Mercedes parked at the far end of the lot. “They’re waiting in the car anyway so I decided -”

“So you decided now that she’s fired from being a stripper, she's probably a hooker! Lemme go ask the price she’s selling at,” her gestures and voice was comical, “you know, dude if you’ve got a kink of getting beaten up non-consensually then you’re really good at getting it cause I might just be up for round two.”

He stared at her for a good few seconds with a perplexed face, as if trying to process her stream of logic. When he started speaking, he sounded genuinely hurt, “No! Jesus Christ I came to apologize. Can you just not be defensive for one second? I’m not a monster ya know!”

His sincerity caught her off guard. She had about five thousand ways of dealing with assholes prepared and ready to go but an actually decent person? Now that was rocky territory for her.

“Well, uh, that’s a first. Go ahead I guess?” she shrugged her shoulders.

“I apologize for saying what I said back in the club. I shouldn’t have insinuated that you aren’t intelligent enough to understand my films just because of your choice of profession. It was really shitty of me to say that, and nothing can justify it either. And I feel like I caused you to be fired, that’s also weighing heavily on my soul and I don't know how to make it up to you. Just, I hope that you can forgive me and, again, I apologize, earnestly. Please tell me how I can make it up to you,” he said and looked at her with a rueful expression.

She was at a loss of words. It had been years since anyone apologized to her, let alone that sincerely. After a considerable amount of silence, she gathered her fragmented thoughts and spoke up, “Whoa, whoa man, chill. You didn’t murder my family or anything so calm down,” she held up her open palms, the cigarette almost at it’s end. “Apology accepted, okay? And don’t feel bad, I would have been fired sooner or later given my questionable behavior ever since I joined, so it’s not on your conscience. And I’m sorry too,” her index and middle finger holding the cigarette gestured at his lips, “for, um, punching you so let’s call it an even.”

“Okay,” he nodded, “yeah okay,” sounding clearly more relaxed than before.

“You know it’s a miracle how long it took for me to get fired,” she mused, “oh no it wasn’t a miracle it was sexual harassment, ah I see now. Wonder what Sam saw in me though that was worth not firing me for this long even though I pulled so much shit,” she took a long drag of her weary cigarette. “Maybe I've got a talent for getting harassed or something...who knows?”

His face tensed up again as he said, “That’s...not right,” eyes pooling with the same worried look as before.

“I was joking, chill. Humor is an excellent way to deal with most everything really, especially trauma.”

“I am sorry for what you had to go through, it’s gut-wrenching. Can’t you lodge a complaint to the police?”

“Going to the pigs? As a sex worker? Who just got fired for being drunk and punching a man in front of many eye witnesses? Now that was humor, you’re quite good at it actually.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Besides, that’s like one of the first things you gotta learn to put up with if you’re working in this business. As unfair and grim as it is, men, no actually, people don’t see sex workers as human beings and I’m just too obstinate to accept that simple fact, or maybe too much of a pussy, depending on where one’s priorities lie.”

“I…don’t know what to say.”

“There is nothing to say.”

 It was just setting in for her how beautiful he actually was. His crestfallen face was graced by two stunning green eyes, lush unruly curls sticking to his forehead, sharp jawline kissed with a  scruffy goatee and the swollen lip throwing off the symmetry just right to make him look captivating, to say the least. In the chilly December ambience his face was a soothing sight to her eyes, his sweet voice kind to her drudging ears, his presence warm to her existence. And she wanted to hold onto the warmth, just for a bit longer.

   “You said you wanted to make it up to me, right?” she said as the cigarette fell on the ground then died out under the crushing embrace of her cruel heels.                         

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

“Well I'm Ro -” he said leaning against the passenger seat window, sitting half facing her.

“If you’re trying to say your name then don’t,” she cut him off quickly without averting her gaze from the road.

“Why?” he asked, staring at her intently yet without any emotion in particular.

“‘Cause it doesn’t matter. It’s better if we don’t know each other’s name. Names individualize people and that’s not necessary for tonight,” she answered nonchalantly as the neon lights of a passing by road sign illuminated her face and then faded into the past just as nonchalantly. 

“Okay.”

She could feel his eyes on her, but it didn’t bother her, it wasn’t tainted. There was this unusual tranquility in the atmosphere of the car, this obscure but consistent serene rhythm. She felt a bizarre comfort in his presence and she could drive like this forever, on a never-ending road spiraling towards heaven or winding down pandemonium or just dissolving into the ether, with him sitting lazily on the side.

    “Do you ever feel like that?” he spoke up absentmindedly, breaking into her almost fever dream.

“Huh?”

“The song, I feel like that often.”

She didn’t realize the radio was on, playing at quite a significant volume. She wondered if he had turned it on at some point and how long she was driving for without being present mentally.

This place will be the end of me. Take me out, LA. Take me out of LA, the voice from the radio filled the car to the brim.

 “I don’t feel like that, I know that. I know I'll die here, kinda intrinsically...do you hate this place?”

“No, not hate. I just feel like I don't fit in here. It’s the way of life, it’s quite significantly different to what I was used to. The people and the city, it all feels hollow sometimes and every now and then i catch myself yearning for what I left behind me.”

“I see. Beautiful people and their beautiful problems.”

    Silence fell in the car again. Except for the voice through the radio, Well this place is never what it seems.

 “You don’t have to make small talk, you know. I'm fine with silence,” she said, finally looking at him for a brief second.

“Oh I know,” he was looking right into her eyes, unruffled. “I wasn’t making small talk, I just wanted to talk to you. That’s all.”

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

The bleak fluorescent tube above buzzed in solidarity as the fatigued clock on the chipped convenience store wall dragged its hands and finally managed to tick at 2 am. The attendant was leaning on the counter, trying not to fall asleep when her voice echoed in the store: “$20 on pump 2.”

“I’ll pay”, he cut in, reaching for his wallet. “Okayyy...” she replied, narrowing her eyes at his benevolence and looked around the store which was significantly emptier that other nights. She closed her eyes for a second and the memories flashed behind her lids. She used to come here frequently, around this time, with someone when everything in her world was right, just right enough for her to not to seek out falling stars every night and wish for death over and over again. When she opened her eyes a shiny pack of Parliaments caught her gaze and she quickly gestured behind the counter, “Since you’re paying, can I get a pack of those also?”

“Sure”

“I remember surviving on those alone while writing my thesis papers,” she said wistfully, “good times.”

“You went to college?”

“University actually, but yeah.”

“Good lord.”

“But I had to drop out so I couldn’t complete my Master’s in Biochemistry.”

“Why?”

“Life.”

“I flunked out my first year of college so you did way more than I did in that regard.”

“Welp, look where that got me.”

“Don’t say that!”

“What?” she scoffed.

“Anything else?” the attendant interjected, visibly tired and clearly annoyed at their conversation.

She swiftly grabbed a lighter, “Can I get this too?”

“Yeah, absolutely.”

“That’ll be all,” she tossed the lighter towards the attendant and continued, “You’re clearly doing way better than me in life.”

“Are you being sarcastic?” he replied, raising an eyebrow.

“No. I meant that seriously. I’m the one who fucked up my life and that’s a fact. Say, how did you know what you wanted to do?”

“That’ll be $30”, the attendant interjected again.

“I don’t know. I started acting as a kid and it just seemed right. It’s all I've known really and I can't see myself as anything else,” he said as he passed the money to the attendant.

“I envy that.”

“I do sometimes ponder what I would have been if not an actor.”

“Wondering too much isn’t good,” she grabbed the goods and shoved them in her coat pocket, “It might make someone into me.”

She stopped right before the glass door, pulled the lighter out and flicked it on, “I’ll use it later,” she leaned in close to him with a frivolous smirk and whispered, “to burn this city down.”

He chuckled at her sudden gaiety, “I’d gladly assist.”

Pushing the door open, she continued as he followed behind her, “Did you see the way that dude rolled his eyes to you? He definitely thought you were with a blabbering hooker and to be honest, my make up probably didn’t help either. Oh well it's not like -” her voice slowly evaporated into the gloomy gas-station lights. 

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

“So beautiful,” he said with awe looking over the vast and apparently endless ocean which the full, eternal moon bathed with its silver glory.

She clutched at her coat sleeves as the chilly wind sent shivers down her body and said, “I know right? I’ve always found the sea to be peaceful during this time of the night.”

“It’s lovely, I’ve never been to this beach before.”

“It’s my favorite spot actually, I used to come here pretty often,” melancholia dripping from her voice. She paused for a little while as if going over a mental checklist and said, “let’s go sit down there,” and pointed towards a vague place in the distance. 

They walked down the beach for a bit side by side, knuckles occasionally brushing against each other’s, making them want to hold hands, feel the warmth of another being. But the hesitance of the yet to be known, the uncertainty of a nameless stranger clouded their minds and prevented them from reaching out.

She stopped, sat down and gestured to him to do the same by tapping the cold sand beside her. He sat a bit too far for her liking so she huddled up closer to him saying, “You blaze right?”

“Sure.”

“Cool,” she said, taking out a small bag from an inside pocket of her coat, “keep an eye out for me while I roll it.”

They sat in silence as she rolled a joint meticulously. The waves kept crashing on the shore as if fulfilling some ancient duty. Wind rustled through the empty beach. Sand glimmered sporadically under the warm light of the moon, creating a transcendental atmosphere.

He sighed and thought out loud, interrupting the intoxicating stillness of the night, “Where do we go from here?”

“Other than plotting the murder of Sam, I don’t know about me,” she replied without looking up from the task at hand, “Don’t really wanna think about it tonight. That’s why I took you along with me. I wanted someone to keep me distracted from my thoughts and I had no one to go to...then you came to apologize, like my knight in shining armor.”

He smiled wryly and said, “I see.”

“What about you? What are you gonna do about your not fitting in or what was it?”

“I don’t know either. I just miss my people. I’m not meant for here, I think.”

“So can’t you go back there? To your home I assume?”

“I can...”

“Then go. Why the fuck would you stick around if you had the option to go back?”

“Maybe.”

“Huh! I wish I had a home to go back to too.”

She could see him from the corner of her eyes, clenching his knees tight with his fingers at her words, bringing them closer to his chest. She looked up to see him staring at her with his big, beautiful, hurt-puppy eyes.

“Did that make you sad or something?” she asked, almost amused. 

“Yeah...yeah it did.”

His apparent empathy for a literal stranger who also punched him not so long ago struck her as odd and oddly enticing. He looked unreal to her in the strange moonlight, as if a remote but vivid memory. She felt as though if she reached out and touched him, he’d turn to dust and drift off with the wind. Those intense eyes and his fey beauty were getting too much for her to bear so she averted her gaze towards the ocean and said, “There’s no use for your or anyone’s sadness. You see, sadness changes nothing. Unless you can start a capital R revolution tomorrow, everything will be the same. It’ll be the same day with slight variations over and over again, things will repeat and go on and on and on until one day humanity just goes poof somehow and then the universe will go on as if we never even happened. There’s no significance of our lives, there’s no point in feeling sad about anything in this set up. One must always imagine Sisyphus happy.”

“That’s quite pessimistic, isn’t it?”

“Kinda absurdist actually, but It’s hard not to be pessimistic or defensive, when you have to lead a life like mine.”

“I understand.”

“Oh, I’m sure you do, “Glamour Boy,’” she said, licking the rolling paper.

He put his hand over his chest and feigned being hurt which made her laugh; a clear, hearty laughter. The beach echoed with a faint sound of the laughter of two stray souls as he joined in.

The joint hanged from her lips, sensual and reckless like an erotic magazine model, burning bright as she took a long drawn-out drag.

“Say, do you think the water is cold?” she said, passing the joint to him.

He took in a drag, inhaling some of her used up smoke with it too, tasting her cheap but obscenely sweet fruity lip gloss at the filter tip, “Yeah...very much so”.

She huddled up even closer to feel the heat of his body as he passed the joint back to her. Taking in another drag, she leisurely put her head on his shoulder.

The sedating smoke sank into their lungs as the sand anchored them from floating off in the elating static of the enveloping darkness.

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

“Is this it?” she said, pulling up to a posh apartment complex, something she wouldn’t be able to afford even after paying off her debts. 

“Yeah, that’s me,” he replied absently and unbuckled his seatbelt. 

She was looking ahead at the road, expecting him to get out of the car, but he sat in silence. She looked at him and saw him laid back on the seat as if being consumed by it, tracing the edge of the left air vent softly with his fingers. He sighed and said, still looking at his busy fingers: “I feel strange and fucking awful.”

“It happens sometimes after coming down a high.”

“It’ll be a pain in the arse going to bed feeling like this.”

“I know,” her eyes travelled down the flow of his posture, giving birth to an urge of some aboriginal origin in her loins, “but you don’t have to.” 

He turned his head towards her slowly, lethargy clear in his slow breathing pattern, “What do you mean?”

“Push your seat back.”

“Why?”

“Just do it.”

He furrowed his brows, alarmed by her sudden gratuitous command. He looked at her; motionless as if not even breathing awaiting his compliance and her eyes glinted with expectancy. He pushed his seat back, as far as it could go then parted his lips to say something but before the words could get out, she virtually jumped on top then sat astride him.

 A deathly stillness engrossed the car as her previous bellicose energy returned to the atmosphere, only this time rather ardent in nature. His heart, instantaneously racing, almost audible to her. 

“You know,” she said taking off her top, “dopamine is a hormone and neurotransmitter that’s an important part of your brain’s reward system, and it can elevate your mood and make you feel really good.”

Eyes wide with surprise, he struggled to keep his gaze fixed on her face as she unbuttoned his shirt. Her fingertips snaked up and down his smooth chest as if caressing a sumptuous painting one is not allowed to touch. She felt his taut muscle tighten at her touch, veins kindled with a hot rush pulsing under. Burying her face in the hollow of his neck, she felt the heat of his body as she pressed her chest against his. His breathing picked up it’s pace even more at the contact with her flushed skin.

“Do you ever get lonely?” she spoke up letting her lips skim over his bare shoulder.

“Terribly,” his voice breathy as he placed his hands on her hips hesitantly, not possessively, but affectionately.

“I do too.”

“What do we do about it?”

“Maybe we don’t do anything.”

“Maybe.” he said resting his right cheek against her head, “or maybe we keep each other company.”

“But for how long?”

“However long we need to.”

A mirthless laugh rippled from her lips then through his skin. She pulled back to look him in the eyes, curious green mixed with an unfamiliar kind of sorrow, a sorrow too costly for her. “Lust and attraction shut off the prefrontal cortex of the brain, which includes rational behavior,” she said, knocking softly on his temple.

“Makes sense.”

Cupping his face, she stroked his swollen lips with her rough thumbs, making him wince in response. The purple bruise steadily forming on the side of his mouth marred his flawless complexion yet his allure only enhanced. Her thumb rubbed on the bruise with reckless abandon, his flinches testifying to that. Withdrawing her hands from his face, she left a light peck on the bruise and said, “Slap me.”

“What?”

“Slap me, come on, I'm giving you a chance to get back at me for earlier.”

“No!”

“Prude!”

“Hey! I just don’t want to hurt you, especially not as revenge or what not,” he sounded genuinely offended.

She leaned in, “But I want to get hurt, silly,” her lips ghosting over his as she whispered, “Endorphins are our body’s natural pain reducer and it so happens to increase when we engage in reward-producing activities, such as eating, working out, or having sex.” She pulled away and continued, “So hit me. Hard.” His adam’s apple bobbed up then down as he searched at her face, as if trying to find some sort of sign. His fingers dug in her hips, indicating the upcoming crude impact. Her palms laid flat against his chest as his left hand rose then crashed against her face. Her fingers curled in response as she gasped weakly, eyes shut closed but the tensity clear in the lines on her eyelids and forehead. 

“Ah... that was good,” she said as if talking to herself, caressing her cheek. When she opened her eyes, she found him staring with uncertain eyes, the doubt readable in the way he bit his lips. 

“Just like that, once more,” her firm voice ringed in the vehicle. His hand cruelly collided once again with her face, leaving her face warm and red. 

“Good boy,” she cooed as the sharp sting eddied on her cheek and then through her whole body, easing her off some unknown yet intrinsic discomfort. Her chest pounded in sync to his as she spoke up, “Do it for me once again, won’t you?”

Pressing his teeth even deeper into his lips, he struck her once again, with as much strength as he had. A white light flashed before her eyes, her ears ringed as she sat in silence for a bit. When her vision became clear, she held his face between her palms. Leaning closer, she rested her temple against his and murmured, “Such a good boy.”

Sweat dripped down as her nose grazed up the side of his neck, she could feel him growing hard through his pants. She buried her face in his curls and breathed in. He smelt sugary, sweet to the extent of almost making her nauseous. She whispered against his ear, “You’ve got a boner...it turned you on this much to hurt me?”

“It’s, um, n-not really that part it’s the -” he stammered in embarrassment.

 “Ugh men,” she cut him off and rolled her eyes playfully. “But since we’ve got a situation at hand, and you’ve been so good to me, I think you deserve some relief for yourself,” she said, tugging at his waistband. To which he responded eagerly, elevating his hips just enough so she could slip his pants off as much as possible. His head sank back into the headrest as her hands wrapped around his cock. Her hand gilded up and down his length as her other hand ran through his hair, pulling lightly. Resting his forehead on her shoulder, he quivered and moaned softly as she lovingly yet mercilessly worked on him. His breath hitched sharply as she stroked the tip of his cock with her thumb, making him groan and twitch under her touch. She was about to pick up the pace when he grabbed her wrist abruptly. “Wait!” he rasped, “I wanna...feel you.”

He panted, trying to catch his breath and said, “Let’s take this inside, there might be people around.”

“Why? Are you afraid of getting photographed with a hooker by the paparazzi, Mr. Actor?"

“No”, he answered, the same hurt as earlier could be heard in his voice, the type of hurt when one is misunderstood by someone they love, “I just - I just want it to be nice.”

“Let’s not make it too nice lest you fall in love with me,” she said sternly. “Besides, you should be more concerned about getting STDs. There should be some condoms in the glove box and also tissues for later.”

He brought his face closer to hers, looked at her lips and said, “You’ve got such a mean mouth, you know that?”

“And you like it?”

“Perhaps”, he replied then kissed her, deeply. Holding her face in his head, he bit her lips which made her moan in his mouth. After running out of breath she pulled away, still tasting his saliva on her tongue as he reached behind her and rifled through the glove compartment. Having found what he wanted, he turned on the radio then returned his focus to her; she was hiking up her dress and awkwardly slipping off her panties in the short space.

Heavy bass filled the car, I wanna be your vacuum cleaner breathing in your dust, as the sky started to light up with shades of azure and tangerine. Her tongue blended with his as she took his cock in her. Their bodies pressed and flushed against each other as a steady rhythm flowed through them. Her nails scratched his nape, as he kissed her neck, nibbling at her collarbone. Her head shot back as he thrust up into her, frantic and keen. His groans muffled in her chest, her moans melting into his hair as their hips clashed against one another.

Maybe I just wanna be yours.

I wanna be yours.

------------   

The sparkling rays of the breaking dawn illuminated his face as he cleaned himself off and got dressed. She marveled from the driver’s seat at the magnificence of the sight of him in afterglow. There was something in him, something innate, that made him stand out from anyone she ever came across. He was made for the screen, he was made to shine, and she wondered whether or not he’ll remember her afterwards. It was for the better if he didn’t, she thought to herself, as this was probably one of the lowest points in his life, while that night was most definitely one of the highlights of hers. The sheer dichotomy was glaring at her soul when he spoke up, bringing her attention back to the present, “I was wondering if you’d like to -”

“Look if you want my name or number, then that’s just not gonna happen,” she said with a sigh, “It’s the oxytocin flooding your brain. Increased levels of oxytocin facilitate attachment and bonding and shit so, like, don’t be fooled.”

“But it’s not that, I feel a connection between us...something I haven’t felt with anyone here before.”

He averted his eyes from her and looked out the window. His hand lingered on the door handle for a second before he stepped out of the car. Turning his back towards the car, he walked into the apartment complex, without saying anything further. Her foot pressed on the accelerator, as the car drove past the buildings. A Parliament washed out the leftover taste of him in her mouth as she rolled down the window to let the nauseously sweet scent dissipate into the cold morning air. 

“It is that. Believe me, I know. There is nothing between us. Whatever connection you feel is your hormones doing bullshit things.”

“You’re just evading me”

“I’m not. I do actually know. Okay, for instance you feel really tired and sleepy right now, right?”

“Yeah”

“That’s the parasympathetic nervous system down-regulating your body and a shit load of vasopressin coursing through you”

“But that could also be because we stayed up all night and got high and just had sex”

“Why don’t you understand? It’s all chemicals, everything! There is nothing called love and whatever the fuck people feel is just their chemicals doing somersaults. There is nothing between us, we don’t know each other. There can be nothing either, look at the circumstances. People like you shouldn’t have to do anything with people like me unless it requires a monetary transaction.”

“But i can help, with whatever you’re dealing with”, he said reaching to place his hand over hers, “we can help each other”

“and what exactly do you think i’m dealing with?, she asked, withdrawing her hand, eyes narrowed at him.

“I don’t know yet”

“Exactly. You don’t know anything. I’m not some sad little girl who went to college then got depressed but in a sexy way so maybe she did drugs or whatever and dropped out and now strips for fucking aesthetic reasons probably. No honey, I’m involved with shit that can drag you down faster than a meth withdrawal and my life is a living testimony of that, take my word for it. So, go get some rest. Sleep out your saviour complex and live out your promising life when you wake up.”

[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.

[wevegottogetaway]

Coming full circle

Here’s a little blurb about the Grammy’s, because some things just simply can’t be overlooked. I’ve also wanted to try and write in second person for a while and I thought this was the perfect occasion. Tell me what you think, I’m interested in knowing what you prefer! Happy reading xx (gif source)

The anticipation has become unbearable at this point. Sitting on the couch of the hotel suite you’ve checked in the day before, you feel more trapped here than simply waiting for your boyfriend to come back - or should you say Grammy winner boyfriend now? Watching the whole show on a flat screen rather than with your own heart-shaped eyes has been a pain to begin with, but now that there is a tiny gold trophy topping off the night with a pinch of two gifted fingers, it is downright torture.

Your legs keep fidgeting in restless expectation as you know Harry’s return is now eminent. The suspense of the show had you going insane for hours and now that it’s all over and done with, you can’t wait to shower him with love and sweet devotion. All the passion, all the self-imposed high standards, all the hard work, have finally paid off in the eyes of the academy, and though he’s always had the encouragement of his fans, it feels good to be recognized within the industry as well. To get a hat tip from pears and musicians he looks up to. To be able to bring the six pounds momento back to you since an infinitesimal but still real part of it was your doing. Also, he can’t wait to share it all with you.

At last, after the umpteenth sigh whizzing from your mouth, you finally hear it. Footstep coming to a halt behind the door, the sound of someone rummaging through their pockets for a keycard, a few lighthearted curses when said key plays hard to get, and finally several seconds later, the soft click of the lock signaling authorized entrance.

As soon as the door starts moving on its hinges, you leap to your feet to stand a couple meters from the entrance, arms crossed behind your back. And there he is.

The charismatic superstar you’ve just worshipped on TV all night is now standing in front of you in all his charming dimpled glory, orange and yellow plaid Gucci suit still on, swathed in feathery boas. Because, yes, he’s brought back all three of them; green, purple and black fluff all tangling around his upper limbs as he attempts to remove his heeled boots without tripping. If his clumsier than usual demeanor didn’t give away his slightly inebriated state, then the rosy tint coloring his cheeks was a big telltale sign of the few celebratory drinks he’d indulged throughout the night.

Harry stops dead in his tracks once his eyes fall on your frame. A shy grin appears on his flushed face, before your own lips part to mirror his glee. And for a hot minutes, it’s just that. You and him, facing each other across the hallway like in a makeshift Western dual, except you’re bearing no guns to fire at each other. Your only weapons are your beaming smiles and unconditional support.

Then there is no greater feeling than the fireworks exploding in your chest when you finally cave and run to him. He catches you with two sturdy arms as your wrap your legs around his waist and your arms around his shoulders. The deep belly laugh vibrating in his chest against yours is music to your ears and you can’t help but whisper "I am so fuckin’ proud o’ you," in the shell of his, before squeezing him even tighter against you. He buries his joy in your neck in response, knowing if he tried to kiss you right now, it’d be more of a smash of lips and clash of teeth than anything.

Once your elation simmers down just enough to relax your distended smiles though, your lips meet in a passionate embrace, tongues softly licking at the sweetest of each others’ mouth; yours from the strawberries you’ve had for dessert and his from the champagne that had been served all night at the Grammy’s.

As your hands reach up to cup his jaw, his come off your thighs to unwrap one of the boas from his neck and swaddle it around you. You squeal and giggle in delight at the furry material tickling the nape of your neck and Harry’s eyes sparkle in satisfaction, "knew you’d wanna have one, now we match."

Your heart is positively soaring, you just extend your new accessory around his neck so that you’re both protected by the green boa’s higher guardian spirit, and then you lean in for another kiss. For a while the two of you are caught up in your bubble, reveling in this night of magic and well-deserved acclaims, pride seeping through your pore to sneak under his skin much like his love for you had at the beginning of your relationship.

"I love you," the three words leave your lips as you lean your forehead against his and Harry promptly echoes the sentiment while walking you to the king size cloud-looking bed awaiting you both. He gently lowers you down upon the silk sheets, you hair spreading across the pillow cases with a look of sheer bliss etched upon your delicate features. If he weren’t so in awe of you and in awe of tonight, his signature smirk would probably taunt you with the fact that it won’t take much to unravel you tonight.

Instead he just hovers for another languid kiss, all his senses heightened by the evening’s ethereality. The sound of his name falling from the Troubadour’s manager is still reeling in his mind alongside the buzz that has been coursing through his veins ever since he took those bambi steps all the way to the stage to receive the long-awaited award for the fruit of his labour. Now that he’s come home in your arms to share every bit of that success, everything feels magnified.

He swears he’s never love you more than tonight when he’s feeling at the top and you’re here to hold his hand.

It’s a high like no other and one fix is just not cutting it. This requires a myriad of caresses and affections trailed along smooth skin. This was born out of support and loving inspiration that need to be returned to their muse in kisses that match the heat of the passion that instigated all this dream. This needs to be spelt out in love language across your body’s every nerve-endings - twice - and shouted from each one of LA’s skyscraper’s rooftop.

So Harry gets to work, diligently covering every inch of your skin with his appreciation and traipsing his reverence all the way down to the waistband of your panties with your grip in his hair accompanies his descent towards your sensitivity. "Gonna put those Grammy winning lips on me?" the smug look on your face is immediately whipped out by a moan as he noses at your clit.

"Seems only fair," he sucks at your mound through the cotton, "won the damn thing writing about eating your pussy. Reckon I didn’t properly thank you in my acceptance speech." Slowly he drags the flimsy lace down your legs before tasting your arousal with a long fat sweep of his tongue. "M’just comin’ full circle is all." You can feel his amusement against your core as you let out a giggle of your own at his silliness.

Your playful banter is quickly replaced by a symphony of moans and gasps that leave the both of you absolutely spent by the time the night reaches its real peak. After all, your acknowledgment means so much more to him than any award he could possibly receive/ Especially if it comes as sweet as your gratitude always does.

➪ Masterlist

[babymetaldoll]

A story of hazelnuts, bananas, and loving your babe (Matthew Gray Gubler/ Reader)

Requested: Yes: 

“Me gustaría leer algo de Matthew donde el este en la exposición de su libro firmando a los fans  que la protagonista este también ahí apoyándolo ya que llevan varios años de pareja” 

Summary:  No one has ever been so excited about releasing a book than Matthew Gray Gubler. So excited he might actually forget he has to eat... 

Warnings: Hardcore fluff. That’s it, you’ve been warned. 

Pairing: Matthew Gray Gubler / Reader 

A/N: I loved this story, I was having such a bad, awful, miserable day, and writing this just made me smile the whole time, so THANK YOU FOR THIS REQUEST!!!!  and shoutout for barcodes!! 

Word count: 1,7K

Masterlist 

.

Matthew Gray Gubler was shining. He was so happy, proud, and excited about everything going on that day, nothing could erase the silly grin from his face. It was the day of the release of his first book, "Rumple Buttercup", and he was in New York for a book signing, and meet and greet with fans.

He couldn't be more excited if he tried. He kept telling everybody it was like having his first son, which was pretty weird considering (Y/N), his girlfriend (now soon to be wife), was four months pregnant.

She looked at him and sighed as he stood next to a table and a bunch of books, nearly jumping on his spot, hyperventilated. He was so honestly happy, she felt her heart was swollen in love. The way he smiled, she was sure it was able to cure all the sadness in the world, it was so pure, so bright. She had never seen anything else as truthful as his smile.

- "How are you feeling, Bunny?"- he asked her and held her hand tight.

- "I'm hungry... you?"

- "Hazelnuts?"- he tried to open his backpack, but his Rumple Buttercup's costume head fell. She quickly moved to pick it up, and he immediately freaked out

- "No! no! don't..."

- "Gubs, I'm pregnant, not sick, I can pick up your gigantic Rumple's head"- she smiled and tried to move as fast as possible, 'cos she knew he was trying to move faster. And he did.

- "Bunny, you don't have to make sudden moves, the doctor said..."- but she didn't let him finish

- "The doctor said: take care, work out, you are healthy, don't overexert yourself, eat well... but she never said "Let Matthew treat you like a porcelain doll", did she?"- her hands were at her waist as she looked at him, raising an eyebrow. But he just smiled, with that heart-melting smile.

- "You know, you can argue as much as you want, but you are not going to stop me from taking care of you two"- Matthew wrapped one of his arms around her and kissed the tip of her lips. It was all real uncomfortable 'cos he was in his Rumple costume, which meant she couldn't actually fully hug him, and she couldn't stop giggling.

- "I don't think I can do this with Rumple here too, I feel he is trying to get in the middle"- she whispered, and Gubler laughed right away, but quickly fully kissed her again.

- "Rumple doesn't care... he thinks you are hot, by the way"

- "Tell Rumple I'm gonna marry someone else, so he should keep his hands and eyes to himself"- (Y/N) whispered and stuck out her tongue to him. Matthew sighed and kept her in his arms for a bit longer.

- "Thank you for coming with me, Bunny"

- "I wouldn't have missed it for the word, honey"- he rested his forehead on hers for a moment and sighed

- "I love you"

- "Me too"

- "Me most"

- "Technically there are two hearts in my body right now, so I can and will love you more"- she defied him and chuckled. He just looked at her and pecked the top of her nose.

- "I love you even more, 'cos there are two hearts inside of you"- she couldn't argue with that, she could only kiss him again, and again until she realized people were already walking into the bookstore.

- "Gubs, people are watching"- she whispered, rubbing her lips around him

- "I don't care..."

- "They are taking pictures"- she whispered and felt her cheeks blushing. Matthew sighed and kissed her forehead once more.

He knew she wasn't comfortable being on the spot like that, they didn't hide their relationship from the media or fans, they actually didn't think anyone might even care about their relationship. But still, they liked having their privacy.

- "I'm going to wait for you over there"- she pointed at the other side of the bookstore, to a very cozy looking empty couch, waiting for her.

- "Did you bring your books? I don't want you to get bored"- Gubler asked and opened his backpack, looking for something in it. Something he couldn't quite find, 'cos in the process, he took out a hat, color pencils, a gourd, his journal, a copy of "Something wicked comes this way", and finally, a packet of hazelnuts

- "Yes, and also my laptop, so I can get some work done... What are you doing?"

- "Omega 3, you need this"- he smiled and showed her the nuts

- "You are nuts, Gubs"

- "You are welcome, future Mrs. Gubs"- he leaned in and kissed sweetly, just to listen at someone sighing and giggling nearby.

The two of them turned around and saw five girls looking at them from a safe distance. They were the first five of all the girls in line waiting for a signed copy of "Rumple". (Y/N) chuckled and closed her eyes, feeling her cheeks turning red. Gubler waved and held (Y/N) close tight.

- "Hi!"- he simply said and smiled- "Thank you for coming!!"- and they all waved, giggling.

- "I'm gonna..."- (Y/N) pointed to the couch and Gubler nodded, kissing her lips one more time, and rubbing her belly.

- "And I'll be right here, in case you two need anything"

(Y/N) sat on that big cozy couch eating hazelnuts and looked at her boyfriend signing books. He should have been exhausted after four hours, but no, he felt he could go on for hours, signing books, taking pictures with fans, talking with everybody. That's how happy he was to be releasing his book.

- "Hello!! Thank you so much for being here!!"- Matthew was hyperventilated greeting fans, and this one, in particular, was incredibly nervous to be there, and he noticed

- "Do you want a hug? can I hug you? come here"- he stood up and moved closer, wrapping his arms, still in his Rumple's costume, around her. She just giggled and did her best to talk.

- "Hi"- that was all she managed to say and bit her lips

- "What's your name?"

- "I'm Kat"

- "Kat! that's a great name! I love cats, I have a cat, I mean, my fiancée has a cat, well, at this point I think I have a cat too, we have a cat together"- Kat smiled and watched him signing her book.

- "What's your cat's name?"

- Belle, do you want to see a picture of her?- the fan nodded and held her breath, still trying to act normal, while Gubler found a picture of Belle in his phone.

- "She is so pretty!"- Kat smiled as soon as she saw an image of the cat sleeping on a couch in what clearly was Gubler's living room

- "Is she called Belle for The Beauty and the Beast?"- she somehow asked, and her voice didn't crack. She felt incredibly proud of herself.

- "You might think of, but no... well, actually, I don't know, (Y/N) already had her when we met, but I'd love to think she named her Belle before we actually were together 'cos I love that movie and we were meant to be together"

The rest of the girls in line were melting with love, and from a distance, so was his future wife. She would never get tired of watching him be such a sweetheart with everybody, especially with his fans.

- "Hey! hello! I love your sweater!!"- five hours later, and Gubler was still on fire. There were three empty cups of coffee next to him, and the line of fans didn't seem to end. (Y/N) looked over, gathered all her things, and walked out for a minute to get her boyfriend something to eat. She knew exactly what he needed, and she was also craving some sugar.

Matthew Gray looked over the couch and frowned. His girlfriend wasn't there, but she was there a minute ago, where did she go? he looked around and tried to find her. But nothing. Maybe she was in the bathroom, he thought, that's ok, nothing to worry about... unless she wasn't feeling well, maybe the baby wasn't ok, maybe she was in pain, or uncomfortable, or bleeding. Maybe he had to call 911 'cos she was unconscious in the bathroom, and now his mind was going so much faster than it should, and his heart started racing, 'cos...

- "Honey"- (Y/N) whispered for a safe distance- "Gubs, sorry, but...."- her voice interrupted his dark train of thoughts, and forced him to turn around and let out a deep sigh.

- "Oh! thank god you are alright!!"- he stood up and hugged her tight.

- "What? sure I am, what are you talking about?"

- "I thought you were feeling sick, I didn't see you on the couch, and..."

- "I was out for literally ten minutes, honey"- she giggled and looked around at all the fans taking pictures. She was so embarrassed.

- "Where were you?"- Gubler asked and noticed (Y/N)'s face blushing- "Hey guys, sorry! sorry"- Matthew looked at the fans and waved- "Can you excuse us for a second, please?"- he held (Y/N)'s hand and walked a few steps away from everybody.

- "I just wanted to get you something to eat, you haven't eaten anything since lunch, so I brought you a little snack, a banana pudding, some cashews, and a juice"- (Y/N) gave him a bag with food. He stared at her in adoration for a few seconds, and just cupped her face with both hands and kissed her lips softly.

- "I love you so much"

- "I know... now snack, 'cos you've had nothing but coffee in the last five hours, and I don't want to faint in the Rumple costume, 'cos I will never be able to pick you from the ground"- he chuckled and nodded.

- "How's baby bean?"

- "He was also hungry, so we got a cinnamon roll"

- "As soon as we are done here, I'm going to take you out for a nice diner, ok? you and baby bean need some real food"

- "So do you and Rumple"- (Y/N) pecked his lips and smiled- "Now go, I gotta go sit down for a minute 'cos..."

- "Do you feel alright? are you ok?"- she just sighed and nodded

- "I'm fine, just tired, but I'll be right there, back on the couch, ok?"- Gubler felt her hand mess with his hair and then watched her walk away. He didn't realize he was holding his breath until she sat down. He had no idea how he had gotten so lucky but he knew he was going to do whatever it took to hold onto what he had.  

[thinkingisadangerouspastime]

ataraxia

ataraxia, noun. an untroubled and tranquil condition of the soul.

He can only touch her in his dreams.

(Written for Day 4 of Aang Rarepair Week: Touch, hosted by @aangtheestallion. Pairing: Yue/Aang. Read here on AO3, or continue reading below.)

He can only touch her in his dreams.

Well, not only, but it is the least difficult means for them to reunite. Dreams are funny like that, though Aang has never been one to complain about the unique ease of access. Neither has Yue. “Always bound by duty,” she says in jest, and they both know she isn’t joking.

“Your dreams always have us out here at night,” Yue notes with amusement as Aang braids her hair. They sit together on a beach, the cool tide lapping at their toes as white stars twinkle in the dark sky above. “Do you like being able to see the moon at the same time as me?”

Aang pauses at her comments. He’s never thought about their setting before, how they are so often reunited at the witching hour. Perhaps it was a coincidence? Or simply a matter of logic, where nighttime in the real world translates to nighttime within his mind?

One glance at Yue reveals the true answer to her query.

“Because the moonlight makes you glow,” Aang says, honesty ringing without shame in his tone. He continues weaving her hair into a simple braid.

Yue chuckles. “Of course. You desire to see me at what you deem my most beautiful. How superficial of you, Avatar Aang.”

It’s Aang’s turn to laugh. “Princess, you know I don’t mean it like that.”

Yue hums, a mischievous smile tugging at her lips. “Then tell me—how do you mean it?”

Aang pulls the last of Yue’s vibrant locks into the braid, tying it off with a pale blue ribbon he didn’t know he had before nudging it to rest over her right shoulder. He moves so he is sitting directly next to her. After a pause, a quiet exhale escapes his lips. “I like getting to see you.” Aang slips a hand into hers. “Every side of you.” Then he shoots Yue a wink. “And as I said—the silver glow is a good look.”

Aang is familiar with all kinds of spirits, each one awe-inspiring and powerful in their own way, but none ever make him so speechless as when he sees Princess Yue bathed with such an ethereal light.

Yue smiles at him, squeezing his hand. When Aang meets her sharp blue eyes—a shade darker than the ribbon in her hair—they are tender, but there is an ancient wisdom behind them that reminds Aang he is never speaking solely to the Princess of the Northern Water Tribe. Although, he supposes the same can be said for himself.

“You Avatars,” Yue muses affectionately. “Always treading the line between the mortal world and the spirit realm. One would think you’d learn from your mistakes.”

Oh, Aang has learned. His body burns with Yangchen’s regret, aches with Kuruk’s grief. He knows their mistakes well. But he’d choose Yue a thousand times over.

Maybe that’s the mortal in him.

“It’s my job to tread that line. Besides.” Aang shifts his hand in hers, lacing their fingers together. “You’d miss me if I stopped visiting.”

Yue rests her head on his shoulder. “I would,” she acknowledges. There is no hesitation. “I’ve been around a long time, Aang. I’ve seen a lot of things.” A smile tugs at her lips. “Known a lot of Avatars, too.” She hums. “And yet you alone manage to surprise me.”

Aang chuckles. “Well. I’m just catering to the human in you.” It’s not the full truth, and they both know it. But neither says more. That would be the spirit in them, Aang realizes, and he almost laughs. Instead, he presses a kiss to the crown of Yue’s head, and she gives his hand another gentle squeeze. They sit in silence, where the soft cresting of the ocean is the only sound that falls upon their ears.

Though Aang knows it is only a dream, he feels the presence of La beside—within?—him. Perhaps he knows because of how the sea rushes up to thread between his toes before it retreats. Perhaps he knows because La never truly left him all those years ago, when he channelled the might and the mourning of the ocean to overpower the Fire Nation’s navy. Perhaps there is another reason entirely, a reason no mortal is privy to. Even the Avatar.

But all the same, La is there. Aang knows this. Tui knows, too, if the way Yue smiles with such easy contentment is indication of anything.

“I hate leaving you,” Aang whispers. Time passes differently in dreams. Soon he will have to wake, no matter how much he wants to stay.

“You know you never really leave me,” Yue says, amused. She raises her head, eyes twinkling with starry mirth. “And I wouldn’t let you even if you tried.”

Push and pull. The endless dance Aang shares with the princess. And though he treasures every step, it is the parts where he must pull away that make his chest ache with the weight of a thousand moons. He wants to be selfish, knows Yu wants to be selfish, too, but selfishness is in neither their nature nor their duties.

Sacrifice. That is what they are most, no, what they are too familiar with. So Aang clings to these dreams with both hands, clutches at these moments with his princess that are a step out of time.

“Let me rephrase.” Aang lifts his other hand to cup Yue’s cheek, tracing the edge of her lips with his thumb. “I hate not being able to touch you.” Here, in his dreams, the moon and the Princess of the Northern Water Tribe both glow, separate yet intertwined. In the mortal realm, their bond is far more literal, and Aang can only feel her within his beating heart. But to feel… to feel has never been the same as to touch.

Yue stares at him, into him, through him. She nods, slowly. “I understand.” Her lips brush against his thumb as she speaks and spirits, Aang wants this moment to last forever. But he knows, sees, feels. The glow is weakening, the stars are dimming, her touch is fading—

Aang closes his eyes, leans in to press his lips against hers. When he opens them again, the sky is blue, the stars are gone, and he is alone. Well, alone with the exception of Appa snoring behind him. The steady hum of his sky bison makes Aang smile.

He can still see the crescent moon tucked away behind the trees, though. Aang always sees her. Always looks for her. It’s a habit that can’t be helped.

Aang sighs, slowly getting to his feet. His hands are warm. Warm, but empty.

Yue’s touch never lingers.

[gunpowdville]

The Great Flesh-Eating Cake Incident of Year [REDACTED], Chapter 2

chapter: 2/2

relationships: Drumbot Brian-Raphaella la Cognizi (queerplatonic), Gunpowder Tim/Lyfrassir Edda/Marius Von Raum, Nastya Rasputina/the Aurora

Other things: genderfluid Tim, she/her Tim, he/fae Marius, temporary character death, possession, canon-typical violence. but mostly literally just silly self-indulgent fluff.

chapter 1

ao3

Read here below the cut >:}

The Rec Room: Tim, Lyf, Marius. All 10 still alive. (a few minutes before It is released)

Lazy days on Aurora are hard to come by, and when they do happen, they are spent most often by complaining about how boring lazy days are. Some, however, can find content in the slower days spent in relative peace and quiet. Case in point: the three currently buried in a pillow nest in the middle of the rec room floor.

The situation is this: the pillows and cushions from the furniture all stripped away and stolen to build a comfortable arrangement on the floor. Gunpowder Tim, in simply a loose blouse and leggings, hair braided elegantly over one shoulder. Lyfrassir Edda, in what is undeniably one of Tim’s waistcoats, perched in between the gunner’s legs, having their hair braided by her deft hands. Marius von Raum, sprawled across Lyf’s lap, waving his hands about animatedly as he talks.

“You left out the best part,” Tim says as Marius finishes relaying the story of how fae and Raph had joined the crew. “You forgot to mention the bit where Bri gave the two of you an actual job interview. And how, upon being asked your greatest strengths, you said, and I quote, ‘I’m hot.’”

“You did not,” Lyf looks utterly scandalized. “At a job interview?”

“You forget, love, that the job fae was applying for was being a Mechanism,” Tim points out, running her fingers through the former inspector’s hair. “The criteria is pretty much being able to play an instrument and willing to do crime.”

“Speaking of,” Marius says, batting aimlessly at Tim’s face where it peeks at him over Lyf’s shoulder. “It’s a shame that we only really have two or so songs together, Tim. We should get to sing together more.”

Tim nods in agreement. “We’re simply too powerful together.”

“I’ve been thinking of trying to get Jonny to let the three of us sing Blood & Whiskey,” Marius admits, then frowns. “Oh, wait, sorry Lyffers, I forgot you sound like a drowning cat when you sing.”

“I do not!” Lyf flushes scarlet, turning their face away from Tim’s raised eyebrow.

“You’re right, sorry, it’s more like a drowning cat playing a kazoo.”

Lyf makes an attempt to hit Marius lightly, but the violinist just catches their hand and kisses the back of it, grinning wickedly.

“Y’know, I don’t think I’ve ever actually heard you sing,” Tim says slyly, tying off the braid and leaning forward so she can rest her chin on Lyf’s shoulder. “Would you sing for me?”

“Do you enjoy the sound of a drowning cat playing a kazoo?” Lyf asks her.

“Well, not exactly…”

“Then according to Mare, you do not want to hear me sing.”

Tim pouts, showing off her mastery of sad puppy dog eyes. The overhead lights glinting off the metal make them sparkle, creating a masterfully alluring wide gaze. “Please? Just a bit? For me?”

It is next to impossible to argue with those eyes, especially once you’ve already fallen hard for the person making them at you. With a sigh, Lyf squeezes their eyes tight shut and awkwardly sings a few lines of Blood & Whiskey. It sounds, as promised, like a drowning cat playing a kazoo.

Tim manages to hold a straight face for roughly three seconds before guffawing with laughter, burying her face in the spot between Lyf’s shoulder and neck to smother her cackles.

Lyf breaks off, turning their head slightly with a gently irritated eyebrow raised at their partner. “Are you finished?”

“Sorry,” Tim gasps between giggles, nuzzling further into their neck, failing miserably at trying to stifle her mirth. “I- I just- I didn’t expect it to actually sound- like that- I’m- I’m sorry-”

“I told you,” Marius crows, grinning up at Lyf and Tim with triumphant teasing fire in faer eyes. “Wasn’t I right?”

“You two are very rude to me,” Lyf huffs, sticking their nose in the air haughtily. Tim lifts her face from their shoulder and noses their jaw, murmuring something about drowning cats and how they have never sounded more attractive. Lyf pointedly ignores her.

“Aw, hey, don’t be like that, fairytale,” Marius heaves himself into a sitting position and catches the former inspector’s face in his hands. “Y’know we’re just teasing you ‘cuz we love you, yeah?”

“Yeah, yeah, I love you too,”Lyf sighs, giving in and letting faer kiss them.

“Sappy,” Tim comments, earning a petulant finger from Marius. “Also, fairytale?”

“They’re my fairytale,” Marius declares proudly, and Tim pouts. “What am I, then?”

“You,” Lyf contemplates, turning their head to meet Tim’s metallic gaze with their own iridescent one. “You’re my battle cry. You’re the song I sing for strength when I can’t find it. You’re my declaration to the world that I will not stand still and break. You’re the inspiration that keeps me fighting. My battle cry.”

“Well,” Tim blinks, making a valiant attempt to keep her voice steady. “Hey now. You didn’t have to go and do that to me.”

Lyf’s brow furrows, concern instantly evident in their features. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No, goddamnit, you said everything right, you- fuck.” without another word, Tim fists a hand in the front of their shirt and pulls them into a kiss. “I fucking love you.”

Lyf’s (no doubt sappy as all hell) response is cut off by Marius, who groans and rolls out of their lap with a huff. “If you two are going to be like that, I’m leaving.”

“You started it,” Tim points out, “but whatever, more Lyf time for me.”

Marius sticks faer tongue out at her as fae leaves. “Go see if Bri’s made me any munchies!” Tim calls after him, before turning back to her partner with a decidedly malicious smirk. “Now, where were we?”

They are interrupted not long after by Brian, who comes barging into the room without preamble, zeroes distractedly in on the pair of them, says “Oh. Hello, dears. Have either of you seen an unidentifiable mass of sentient ooze? Slightly larger than an octokitten? It ate Marius,” and then hurries out the opposite door.

Tim and Lyf glance at each other, attempting to register his words. “Wha- Brian, what?”

But the Drumbot has already disappeared down the corridor, leaving the two of them to scramble to their feet and race after him, their questions landing on ignorant ears.

Nastya, the corridors: 9 left alive, 1 eaten.

Nastya spends her lazy days with her girlfriend, most of the time. She enjoys the quieter hours when she can work on repairs, listening to Aurora tell her stories or complain about whatever is on her mind. This particular lazy day, the engineer is sitting cross-legged on the floor of one of the corridors, right outside Jonny’s room, her hands deftly working at the wires beneath one of the wall panels. Aurora is telling her about a new program she and Ivy are working on, a sort of virtual reality experience for the shooting range that will ‘revitalize the excitement of warfare’, in her words. Nastya listens intently, interjecting with questions when she has them and praise when it is deserved.

As she finishes up, carefully replacing the wall panel and smiling softly at Aurora’s petulant complaints, something drops from the air vent above her. She takes a smooth step back as the thing falls to the floor with a wet thwack. At first glance it resembles an octokitten, but as it unfurls it reveals itself as more of a dark glistening lump, tendrils of gooey flesh extending across the floor toward Nastya.

“Well, hello,” The engineer says, tilting her head to study it. “What are you?”

That is the cake our Drumbot and his science officer made, Aurora answers for her. Don’t touch it.

“This is a cake?”

I believe it was supposed to be.

“And what is it now?”

Decidedly not a cake.

It’s at that moment that Ivy comes racing into the corridor, breathless and looking faintly annoyed. “Ah. Nastya. Good. Have you seen-” her eyes drift to the thing at Nastya’s feet. “That.”

“I am certainly looking at it right now,” Nastya says in response, nudging a toe forward to poke at it. Ivy throws out an arm to stop her. “Do not. Unless you want to get eaten.”

Nastya raises an eyebrow and quickly steps back, just as an octokitten meanders into the area, approaching the blob with a curious ‘mrrp’. Ivy dives for it, but the creature is much faster, latching onto the octokitten in a second. But instead of eating it, the thing seems to melt into it, turning it a darker color.

“Hm,” Ivy hums curiously. “That’s new.”

The possessed octokitten zeroes in on Ivy and Nastya, yawning wide to show a lot more teeth than should be able to fit in its mouth.

“Run?” Nastya suggests, watching the kitten start forward on uneasy tentacles.

“Run,” Ivy agrees.

Jonny & Ashes, the shooting range: 9 left alive, 1 eaten.

The shooting range is one of the few rooms on Aurora that isn’t quiet on lazy days. This day is no different from any other in that regard, with the sounds of gunfire and cackling echoing from behind the wide open door. The quartermaster and the first mate are both in there, trapped in a pointless competition to outshoot each other. They have done this many times before, and who wins changes nearly every time. But it’s an excellent way to distract and relieve stress, and Jonny had noticed Ashes appearing down earlier, so he had suggested a shooting competition. He never said that he was doing it to cheer them up, but he’s pretty sure they’ve caught on to his intentions.

“I kicked your ass harder than Brian got his ass kicked in that sun,” Ashes remarks, standing over Jonny, who lies prone on the floor. Jonny groans and sits up, shoving his singed hair off of his forehead. “You cheated.”

“Says what rules?” Ashes snorts, reaching down to help him up.

“It was a shooting match, O’Reilly, not a goddamn grenade match.”

“Your screaming was hilarious, though.”

Jonny scowls and flips them off. Ashes laughs and slips another grenade into their pocket, a little something to save for later.

The trapdoor in the ceiling of the shooting range drops open, and Raphaella tumbles through, falling head over heels and landing neatly on her feet with a dancer’s grace. “We have something of a problem.”

“Yeah, Ashes just fucking blew me up,” Jonny complains, and Ashes rolls their eyes. “You’re fine.”

“You’re fine,” Raphaella says at exactly the same time, and Ashes shoots a grin at her. “Anyway, Bri and I may have done… something.”

“You may have done something,” Brian argues, breezing into the room with Tim and Lyf close on his heels. “I take no responsibility.”

“Can we please go back to the part where it ate my boyfriend?” Lyf demands, causing Jonny’s eyebrows to shoot up practically to his hairline. “Someone’s eating boyfriends?”

“The octokittens are possessed,” this is Nastya, squeezing past Brian through the door, tailed by Ivy.

“Possessed?”

“Possessed,” Ivy confirms, to Brian’s incredulous outburst.

“D’you mean those octokittens?” Jonny asks, pointing to the door. Sure enough, a gaggle of octokittens meanders through, moving a bit unsteadily, oily dark colors writhing beneath their skin.

“That looks like- that’s-” Lyf’s eyes go wide as they stare at the kittens. “What the fuck is that?”

“It was supposed to be a cake,” Brian says mournfully.

“It ate Marius!”

“It’s technically your child, Lyf,” Raphaella pipes up. “The compound I used to make it is based on your blood samples.”

Lyf just stares at her.

“It doesn’t look that bad,” Ashes remarks. They crouch down and flip open their lighter, holding it in front of one of the kittens’ face. It flinches, then snarls and shoots toward them, latching onto their foot, its jaws opening far wider than they should be able to. They try to kick it off, but its tentacles appear to have melted onto their skin and are slowly eating through. With a squelch, the odd entity detaches fully from its octokitten host, who blinks and scuttles into the corner.

With a pained grunt, Ashes drops their lighter onto the thing on their foot, successfully setting the thing alight. It recoils and retreats to the center of the floor, squelching in a frantic circle. It leaves behind nothing left of the quartermaster’s foot, and Ashes stumbles and is caught by Jonny, who steadies them and shoots a murderous look at the flaming blob.

“Fuck fuck fuck,” Ashes hisses through their teeth, pain evident on their features. “Goddamn. What the fuck, you two.”

“Again, I take no responsibility,” Brian insists. Raphaella sticks her tongue out at him. “You are a bastard and a traitor and I never loved you anyway.”

Brian blows her a kiss and a wink.

“Interesting,” Ivy interrupts, pulling out a notepad and writing something down. “It appears fire is ineffective.”

This gets everyone’s attention directed back to the creature, which is indeed decidedly not dead or incapacitated in any way. It isn’t even on fire anymore. And it looks angry.

“You’re kidding me,” Ashes growls, staring at the thing with disgusted fury.

“Run,” Tim suggests, pushing Lyf gently out of the way as the thing focuses on them and begins to move forward. “Split up and run. It can’t get all of us at once.”

Jonny nods and dutifully starts off out of the room, taking Ashes with him, holding them up as they limp and curse. Ivy and Nastya shoot off in another direction, Nastya scooping up the disgruntled left-behind octokitten as she goes. Raphaella grabs Lyf’s wrist and pulls them up through the ceiling trapdoor, ignoring their startled protests. That leaves Tim with Brian. She turns to him, poised to ask what the plan is, but hesitates when she sees Brian standing there, head cocked to one side, staring blankly at the empty floor. The bifrost cake-creature is nowhere to be seen.

“Brian?” Tim steps forward, reaching out and resting a concerned hand on his shoulder. “Bri? You good?”

Brian’s head lifts, slowly, in an uncharacteristically stilted motion. His eyes are… wrong. Something is moving in them, and if Tim looks closely she can see it oozing from the corners. Oh. Oh no.

“Fuck,” she breathes, stumbling backward and reaching for a pistol. “Not Brian not Brian not Brian.”

The thing in Brian’s body smiles, forcing the expression onto the Drumbot’s face. It takes a step forward. Of course, it’s at that moment that the Toy Soldier decides to make its first appearance.

“Sorry I’m late!” It announces as it steps into the shooting range. “I was in the middle of a delightful painting using the blood from that corpse Jonny dragged onto the ship the other day! I didn’t want to leave it for too long in case it was ruined! Anyway, I heard there was a crew meeting?”

“Oh, I’d love to see that painting,” Tim says, momentarily distracted. The Toy Soldier claps its hands together excitedly. “Of course! I’ll set up a viewing!”

Tim grins. “Lovely. Now, what do you know of possession?”

“Well, it depends on what kind!”

“Um,” Tim glances back at Brian and whatever is piloting him, who has stopped in its tracks and is watching the exchange curiously. “Well. Would you.. Happen to know anything about possession by.. Cake?”

In the brief pause that follows, the thing inside Brian appears to give up on its curiosity and steps forward, opening his mouth. Tim frowns at it for a moment, confused, and then she sees the soft glow building in the back of the Drumbot’s throat. “Oh shit.”

Tim & The Toy Soldier, just outside the shooting range, 9 left alive, 1 footless, 1 eaten

Tim grabs the Toy Soldier and pulls it with her as she bolts to the door, just as a jet of flame shoots out of Brian’s mouth.

“Since when can he do that?” she yelps, flattening herself against a wall to avoid being scorched.

“Oh, that is interesting!” TS declares, peeking around the doorframe. Tim nods. “So. To catch you up. There’s some sort of Bifrost related demon-creature loose on the ship, it is currently inside Brian’s body and appears to be controlling him. Fire can’t kill it. Oh, and it ate Mare.”

The Toy Soldier nods, bouncing on the balls of its feet. “So?”

Tim blinks, then shrugs. “We kill it, I suppose. At least get it out of Brian.”

“How do we do that?”

“That’s what I’m asking you!”

Another jet of flame shoots past them, followed by what sounded oddly like a frustrated grunt. The thing still hasn’t actually followed them into the hall, which is a good sign, if somewhat nonsensical. Tim flinches further back instinctively, feeling the heat in her eyes.

“I don’t know what to do,” she confesses. “I don’t know how to get it out without opening Brian up, and he won’t like that. And I can’t even get close to it when it’s breathing fire at us like that.”

“Hmm,” the Toy Soldier hums a thoughtful note. Tim bites her lip, thinking, then lets out a soft laugh. “I’m glad I’m here with you and not Nastya,” she tells TS. “She’d probably suggest kissing it.”

There’s an awkward clank from the shooting range, followed by the sounds of a struggle. Tim glances at TS, who shrugs. “I could kiss it!”

“Could you?” Tim frowns again. “I mean.. I suppose it would just be kissing Brian, wouldn’t it, unless.. D’you think that would work? The kissing?”

“Possibly!” the Toy Soldier sounds positively thrilled about the prospect. “I’m very good at it, you know!”

“I feel like making out with the eldritch blob possessing our crewmate is a bit extreme,” Tim says, peeking around to corner to see what’s happening in the shooting range. What she sees gives her pause.

Brian seems to be fighting back against the thing holding his body hostage. He’s standing in the room where they left him, and every so often he takes a jerky, strained step forward, like he’s having to force himself to step. Although in this case its more likely that he’s trying to stop himself from taking a step. He looks pained, and Tim feels that familiar protective rage rising in her, that feeling of no he’s mine you can’t hurt him. All thoughts of kissing fade away, and she steps out, pistol in hand, and marches back into the shooting range.

“Brian,” she says, and the Drumbot’s head lifts slightly, his eyes still leaking sludgy iridescence. “Bri. Hey. I know you can hear me. Uh. I’m going to do something, and it might be.. A bit uncomfortable for you, but it will hopefully work out in the long run. So do me a favor and… stop fighting it for a moment? Just a moment.”

Brian gives her a wary look, but nods stiffly, clearly using every bit of control he has left. Then he lets go. His face goes blank, and his mouth opens, that glowing heat making another appearance. With a grimace, Tim lifts her pistol and fires.

The bullet flies true, carving straight through the flamethrower mechanism in the back of Brian’s throat and exiting out the back of his head. There’s an inhuman screeching sound, and Brian jerks once as the creature, with its main source of power destroyed, crawls out of the hole left behind.

Brian shudders once, then raises a hand to touch the new hole in his head.

“You alright?” Tim asks, stepping forward. “You.. you?”

“I’m fine,” Brian reassures her. “That could have obliterated my vocal cords, but I’m alright.”

“You’re welcome,” Tim says, tossing her braid back over her shoulder smugly.

“I don’t want to ruin the good mood,” TS says, peeking into the room curiously. “But, where did it go?”

Tim and Brian both freeze, locking terrified eyes. And then the lights go out.

Raphaella, Lyfrassir, Nastya, Ivy: In the dark. 9 left alive, 1 eaten, 1 footless

When the lights go out, someone screams. It’s Lyf. Raphaella shoots them a glare over her shoulder, aware of their ability to see in the dark.

“Sorry,” they whisper. Raphaella frowns. “Why are you whispering?”

“I don’t know,” they admit. “It feels like the right thing to do.”

“Aurora?” That’s Nastya’s voice, coming from just ahead of them. She sounds worried. “Aurora, please say something. Please tell me if you’re hurt. Aurora?”

“Nas?” Raphaella moves forward, stretching a hand out until she bumps into the engineer’s shoulder. Nastya grabs her hand and gives it a quick squeeze, an indication that she’s here and she’s alright. “Raph, good. Is Lyfrassir still with you?”

“Right here,” Lyf says, still whispering. “Where’s Ivy?”

“Here as well,” the archivist pipes up from the other side of Nastya. “Everyone’s okay, as far as we can tell, Aurora simply.. Stopped.”

“Do you think it got to her?” Lyf asks, shifting nervously behind Raphaella.

“It better not have,” Nastya snaps, her concern for her girlfriend evident in her voice.

Raphaella squeezes Nastya’s shoulder and looks around, cursing the fact that she hasn’t given herself night vision yet. “Ives, can you get ahold of Bri?”

Ivy nods and closes her eyes, typing out a message to Brian in her brain. After a moment, she nods again and announces, “He’s alright. Tim and the Toy Soldier are with him. It took control of his body, but they got it out of him and he’s barely hurt.”

“That’s good!” Raphaella exclaims, giving Nastya’s shoulder another squeeze. “That means Aurora should be fine, once we get it out of her!”

Nastya nods, expression growing determined. “How do we get it out of her?”

“Um, I don’t mean to alarm anyone,” Lyf says, sounding a bit shaky. “But there is something wrapped around my leg.”

They sound afraid, but not panicked or in pain, which causes Raphaella to frown. They don’t even sound urgent. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah I’m- I’m fine, it isn’t hurting me. It’s more… it’s like it’s hugging me.”

“Didn’t you say you made it out of their blood?” Ivy inquires, and Raphaella nods. “Perhaps it recognizes them as one of its own.”

“I don’t like the implications of that,” Lyf says quietly, then gives a determined shake of their head. “Right. Now is not the time for a Bifrost-related panic attack.”

“We can use this,” Raphaella perks up suddenly. “We can use your connection to it, Lyffy, to… something.”

Silence falls as the four of them think on it. And then Ivy speaks up. “I have something from Brian. He met up with Jonny and Ashes, and Jonny has an idea. He just needs us to lure it into something smaller and able to be picked up.”

“Can we do that?” Raphaella glances to Lyf, who nods. “Great. Let’s go.”

Lyfrassir, the kitchen. Same situation.

The kitchen is dark and eerie when Lyf enters, stepping carefully over the seething tendrils rising from the floor, grabbing at their legs. It’s almost possessive, the way it reaches for them, curling around them with its oozing tentacles. They can almost hear it talking to them, in their head, whispering mine mine mine. It terrifies that, but they shove it aside to think about later, once they’ve got this dealt with. Instead they focus on locating something small and liftable to lure the thing into. They find something almost instantly.

As they approach the object they’ve chosen, their Bifrost-enhanced eyes land on something in the middle of the floor, a moving shape.

“Hey, babe,” they say, stepping lightly over the half-formed Marius Von Raum to the counter.

“Hi,” fae groans, conscious enough for at least that. “Whatcha up to?”

“Oh, nothing,” Lyf replies, placing their hands gently on the object they want to bring the creature into, watching it curl up around their arms and moving down the walls toward them, chasing the contact. “And… there we are.”

In a flash, Jonny comes pelting into the room. He grabs Small Brian the electric mixer from Lyf’s hands, and as the lights come on he races down the corridor, and the sound of a door sliding open can be heard.

“What did you do?” Brian demands as the first mate reappears, smugly dusting off his hands.

“Tossed it out the airlock,” Jonny grins.

“Right, ‘cause throwing all our problems out an airlock always works,” Ashes snorts. Jonny frowns. “It does.”

Tim shakes her head. “Oh, you are so lucky I can’t roll my eyes too hard without fucking up my face, D’Ville.”

Brian looks gutted. “You- you threw- Small Brian?”

Jonny freezes. “Oh- oh shit, Bri- I didn’t- Shit shit shit.”

“We’re getting it back,” Brian says, folding his arms and glaring. “As soon as Aurora’s recovering, we’re getting it back.”

“How do we know that that thing will die out there and not just… devour a star system?” Lyf asks. Jonny shrugs. “That’s not our problem.”

“I… fair enough,” Lyf sighs, and casts a last look toward the airlock before going to help Marius up.

Brian & Raphaella: Everyone alive and well

They get everything on the ship back in order quickly. Marius is back, and is being regaled with the tales of what he missed by Lyf and Tim. As soon as Aurora is ready to move again, Brian takes her to pick up Small Brian, and he carries the mixer reverently back to its place in the kitchen. “You’re a hero,” he whispers to it, before kissing the top of it lightly. He then gathers all the ingredients to make another cake, a real one this time.

Just as he’s setting up to get everything made, Nastya comes marching out of the corridor from where she’s been checking up on Aurora, a flamethrower in hand.

“Right,” she says, firing up the weapon. “Where are the fuckers who got my girlfriend possessed?”

Raphaella and Brian glance at each other, knowing this was coming. With a grin, Raphaella runs over and grabs Brian’s hand, pulling him after her down the hall and away from the vengeful engineer.

Nastya curses and follows, and Raphaella lifts off the ground, sweeping Brian into her arms bridal-style to easier carry him. He yelps, and then laughs, twisting to look down and watch Nastya chase after them, looking furious.

Raphaella rounds into a tight corner and sets down, letting Brian back on his feet. They’re both giggling, and Brian buries his face in her shoulder, grinning widely. She kisses his hair and strokes it lightly, running her fingers around the edges of the hole in the back of his neck.

Nastya finds them like that, rounding the corner and hefting her flamethrower with a malicious glimmer in her eyes. “There you are,” she hisses, and this time there’s nowhere to run.

“It was fun while it lasted,” Raphaella murmurs to Brian as she pulls back, and he takes her hand.

“Love you always,” he replies, and she leans over to kiss his cheek. “See you soon.”

And together, they face their fate.

[shuttymcshutfuck]

So deeply hurt

Fandom: The Magnus Archives

Relationships: Jonathan Sims/Martin Blackwood/Tim Stoker/Sasha James (polycule)

Type: Hurt/comfort

Word count: 2,039

TW: crying, hiding pain, fever, internalised ableism

A03 link

Now that he was closer Jon could tell it was a bad day. He could see the tension in Tim’s jaw, the way he swayed ever so slightly when he stood before righting himself, the fake smile he’s plastered on.

or: Tim's having flare up so they have a movie night.

Set vaguely in S1 or S2 but Sasha doesn't get not!them-ed.

As much as Tim joked around and slacked off, he was very rarely late. Especially not almost two hours late. Jon tried to relax as much as possible but with the concerned glances from Martin and Sasha every few minutes through the window in his door and the constant ticking of the clock in his office it was getting harder by the minute. But he had to stay professional, Elias couldn’t know about their relationship. Jon wasn’t ashamed in the slightest, he just didn’t want to get them all fired. Although, that didnt mean he hadn't sent off quite a few messages to him. All of which were unanswered. He was typing another when he heard a voice curse at the top of the stairs. Trying to look as casual as possible but presumably failing miserably, Jon grabbed his cane and rushed to the bottom of the stairs.

“Tim?” Through the fluorescent lights he could barely make out Tim sitting at the top of the stairs, crutches lying next to him. “Do you need a hand?” He tried to keep the worry out of his voice. They’d all agreed that none of them would make a big deal if Jon or Tim were using their aids. He wanted to respect that as best he could since he knew how bad it felt when people would keep pointing it out.

“Ah, no need. I got this!” Jon watched as Tim slowly slid himself and his crutches down each step before using them to stand. Now that he was closer Jon could tell it was a bad day. He could see the tension in Tim’s jaw, the way he swayed ever so slightly when he stood before righting himself, the fake smile he’s plastered on.

“Well, that was one way to do that. I’m sure Martin or Sasha would’ve been able to help.”

“Na, it’s alright. This building’s just inaccessible as shit. I doubt we would’ve been able to all fit together on those weird ass stairs anyway.”

“Well since you’re here now, there’s a statement on your desk I’d like you to look into after you’ve finished compiling the research from yesterday.” Putting his professionalism on as much as he could, Jon went back to his office leaving Tim to get settled at his desk. He shot Martin a quick text to keep an eye on him and tried his best to continue with his work.

Recording a few statements helped distract him for a bit even if he knew that they were all fake. Floating lights, a ‘disappearing’ man and walkie talkie feedback that sounded like words. It wasn’t long until a knock at his door brought him back to the present. “Come in.”

“Hey,” Martin, of course. “I’m going to the breakroom to make myself a cuppa, do you want one?” Jon never understood why Martin always lowered himself when he entered a room. It was like he was trying to take up the least amount of space possible.

“Yes, thank you. I’ll come along, I need to stretch my legs anyway.” Perfect, a completely professional reason to talk to him in relative privacy. “How has he been?” Jon set his cane beside him as he sat at the breakroom table, watching Martin go through the practiced motions of making tea.

“I’m not sure, he looks a bit peaky but he seems alright.” It was days like these that Jon struggled with boundaries the four of them had set. He knows that if Tim needs help, he’ll ask for it. But he also knows how stubborn you can become when you’re in pain, how frustrating it can be, how hard it is to ask for help. “In other news, I was thinking of having a movie night at mine tonight? Tim and Sasha are down, fancy it?” Jon brought himself back, this is something he could do. Something that would help.

“That sounds lovely but why don’t we have it at mine?” Jon took the cup Martin handed him and sipped, perfect as always.

“Uh, sure.” Martin looked a bit hesitant, probably because Jon usually doesn’t offer up his flat if Martin’s already offered. They all know Jon prefers their flats to his because then he can kidnap a jumper or cardigan to feel safer once he has to leave.

“It’s just, my flat’s closer and I think it’s best for Tim and I since there’s a lift.” He wasn’t lying persay, the lift would be better for the two of them but that wasn’t the only reason. He had supplies for bad days at his house. Heat pads, painkillers, ice packs, you name it. And he knew Tim was going to need it. He’d crash soon enough, most likely when they were all finally settled at Jon’s, so he needed to be able to help once Tim let them.

“Oh right, of course. Sounds great, I’ll let them know.”

-----

It wasn’t long until Tim popped into Jon’s office, struggling with the door slightly. “I’ve got that research for you, Boss.” Jon gestured to one of the seats in front of his desk which Tim took quickly. He pulled the file from his bag once he sat down and had his hands free again.

“Tim, I- um. Is there anything i can do?” Jon tried to be as gentle as possible, not wanting to sound patronising.

“I’m not sure what you mean.” So he was still in the stubborn stage, great. “I’m all set for the last hour work wise if that’s what you’re asking.” He stood and Jon could see him hide a wince.

“Okay, I’ll let you get on then. Thank you again for the research.” All Jon got in return was a nod before Tim was out the door as fast as he could be.

-----

The journey to Jon’s flat was nice for once, mostly due to Sasha driving them all instead of having to take the tube. But even just sitting mostly in silence it was comfortable. As soon as they were in his flat he wandered off to get changed into comfier clothes, urging them all to do the same. Once they were all back in the living room he spotted Tim in a familiar jumper, specifically the one Jon was looking for as it was nice and cosy but he left it with Tim. He looked like he needed it more than he did.

Stocked up with snacks and tea, bundled up in Jon’s duvet that he’d asked Martin to bring through, movie night began. After finishing La La Land per Sasha’s request and Howl’s Moving Castle per Martin’s request they decided to order some takeout.

“Tim, do you just want your usual?” Sasha was over at the table, notepad in hand with everyone's orders but his. The only answer she got however was a groan. Jon gently moved him off of his shoulder where he had been resting his head and it was only then he felt the heat coming off Tim’s skin.

“Hey, sleepyhead. Can you wake up for a minute for me please?” Jon watched him blink slowly and he swore he had fallen in love with him all over again.

“Is he alright?” Martin moved the duvet off of their laps and knelt at the feet of Jon and Tim. “Love, you’ve got a bit, uh-” Martin's gaze fell to Jon’s shoulder and when he followed he saw what Martin was clearly holding back a laugh at. Tim had drooled over his shirt.

“Martin, can you go into the cabinet in the kitchen, grab some painkillers, water and the thermometer for me please?” Martin’s face dropped so Jon rushed to calm him. “He’s okay, I think it's just a flare up. Take a breath, Love.” Jon watched him do as asked and head over to the kitchen. “Sasha, just order him his usual as long as it’s not too spicy.”

“Gotcha, I’ll be back in a minute.” She placed a kiss on Jon’s cheek then Tim’s, frowning slightly at the heat before heading to the bedroom to order.

“So, how are you really feeling? All of it, okay?” Jon kept his voice low and soft, channeling all the times Martin had calmed him down from a nightmare, all the times Sasha had comforted when the knock on his office door sounded too familiar, all the times Tim had helped him home once everyone had left because the pain was so bad.

"I'm alright, just being a drama queen as usual." Jon watched as Tim’s eyes filled with tears.

" Tim ." It seemed that Jon had finally chipped at his stubborn exterior just enough to let Tim breathe.

“I…Awful, it just hurts and I’m so tired, I don’t-” Jon pulled him into a hug as he finally let the tears fall, running a hand up and down Tim’s back while the other cradled his head.

“It’s okay, it's okay.” They sat there, Jon whispered sweet nothings until Tim’s sobs had calmed enough that he could speak “What hurts, Love?”

“Everything but my hips hurt the worst. It’s like they’re shooting pain down the rest of my legs.”  Tim pulled back slightly and Jon let him, wiping away Tim’s tears with his thumb.

“Got them Jon, but if it’s a flare up then why do we need the thermometer?” Martin’s eyes flickered over Tim’s face and Jon could tell he was holding back his mother-hen instincts. He trusted Jon and it made his chest warm to think that he trusted Jon enough to let him lead.

“I’m just hot stuff, what can I say?” The joke made them both smile, breaking some of the tension.

“Sometimes during flare ups you can get low grade fevers, I just want to make sure it’s not too high.” Jon explained as Martin kneeled back at their feet.

“Alright, okay.”

“Martin, it’s okay.” Jon reached out and took his hand, the worry practically radiating off of him.

“I know, I’ve just never been around either of you when you’ve had a flare up before and-” Jon’s eyes fell to his lap, guilt slowly seeping into his bones. He could tell Tim felt the same, squeezing his hand slightly before interrupting Martin. “You have actually, as much as I don’t want to admit it, we are relatively good at hiding them. Which isn’t necessarily a good thing.”

Martin looked to Jon and he nodded. “Right. Well, we can talk about that later.”

“Okay.” He turned to Tim. “Is it alright if i take your temperature, love?” Jon was pretty sure that he would say yes but it was still good to ask, to make sure Tim was comfortable.

“Yeah, alright.” Martin handed him the thermometer and Jon put it in his ear, waiting for the beep before taking it out again and doing it to the other ear.

“Hmm, 38.1 and 38.3. Not bad but still could be better. Let’s get some painkillers and water into you. Sasha’s ordering food just now so you’ll have that soon too.” Tim took them without issues but seemed uncomfortable when Jon mentioned dinner.

“I’m really not hungry just now.”

“Nausea or just no appetite?” Jon didn’t want to force him to eat if he felt nauseous but he needed some form of food in him if he was going to take more painkillers.

“Appetite.” Good, that’s something at least. Something he can work with.

“Why don’t you try some food and if you don’t want what we’ve ordered I’ll make you some toast?” As much as he hated that Tim was in so much pain it felt nice knowing what to do for once. Pain was something he was familiar with, something he knew so much about that it was instinct to him now.

“Alright.” Jon stood up and motioned for him to move along the couch slightly and he complied. He got them situated so Tim was lying down with his head on Jon’s chest and legs over Martin’s lap. He felt Tim curl into him and sigh contentedly. “Jon?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.” Jon ran his fingers through Tim’s hair, watching as his eyes started to shut again.

“Of course, love. You know I’m always here.”