#i had already done many many Many hours of research so i didnt have enough time to do all that lol | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tangledstarlight · 4 years ago

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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.

#julie and the phantoms #julie molina #luke patterson #jatp fic #jukeboxweek #jukebox #jatp #firefighter!luke au #once again staring at the tags unsure whatelse to put #*fics #also look at my cute lil graphic i did when i got annoyed with part 3 isn't it fun!!!! doodles!!!!

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castiels-majestic-wings · 4 years ago

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HISTORY

Paring - Loki x Reader

Word count - 2,124

Warnings - None

This is my first fanfic so please don't be too harsh, but I would greatly appreciate some of your opinions on how i can improve my writing. Thank you.

It had been three days since you came to Asgard. Thor had offered to take you after hearing that your thesis was on Asgusrdian History. He had explained that the library was full of ancient knowledge. Of course it was mostly in Old Norse, but he showed you the section you would be able to read and understand.

Being an unofficial member of the Avengers came in handy when it came to your University papers. Of course you helped them when the time came but you weren't a true Avenger, you were neither trained in combat nor held any special gifts. But you were a tactician. And a good one at that. You already knew Tony and when he had asked for your help on a mission, you had to accept. Of course school came first but you could never refuse Tony of the help he needed. Especially when his life was on the line. And you helped save his life. On many occasions. He had asked you so move into Stark tower after that. Of course then the Avengers came and you became friends with them all.

Steve was easy to get along with, he didnt understand most of the references you made but he's always there for you. It was easy to tell Natasha anything and everything, her being the only other girl on the team made it easy for you to open up ro her. Bruce was smart, you didn't understand most of the things he said but being around Tony so much made you understand a little more than the others. Clint was a father figure to you. You knew about his family already, so you always went to him for advice Steve couldnt give you. But you never really understood Thor, after all he came from a different realm. And after witnessing first-hand what his brother did in new york you had found it difficult to trust him, thinking if Loki was capable of doing that then the other god could obviously do so much more.

But these past three days have been very helpful, you have been stuck in the Library reading non stop. The history of Asgard was a lot more than you expected. Thousands of years worth of wars, protests, evolution. It wasn't much different from the history on earth. The development was the same. The first war was about taking land and Asgard had claimed it. The second was about beliefs and claiming the opposing opinion was always wrong. The third was about a king who couldnt rule. So the Asgardians fought against him until his son took over the throne and ruled over Asgard better than his father ever did. It intrigued you greatly to find that you weren't that much different.

But it was today that you found out Loki was in Asgard. It scared you of course. After seeing the genocide in New York you never wanted to face him again. But Thor had pleaded about Loki's change of heart, explaining that he wouldnt hurt you or anyone again. He gave his word. So you trusted him. But when Loki entered the Library, you couldnt deny the fear that had crawled its way up your back. He sat down across the room facing you but his eyes were focused on the book in his hands.

Looking at him, seeing him again. It brought back the memories of new york, the way his eyes darkened whdn he found you in Stark tower. Powerless and scared. You heard Tony speaking to you in the earpiece, asking for your next move. But you couldnt speak, Loki had his eyes on you. You knew you had to tell Tony somehow. So when he came close enough you muttered to yourself.

"L-loki." He heard the fear in you voice, saw it in your eyes. And he grinned. He enjoyed placimg fear into peoples hearts. And you despised him. You heard Tony yelling at Thor to try and get eyes on you from outside. You hears the panic in his voice. But Loki didnt do anything to you. He went back to the portal device to talk the professor he had under his control. You told Tony quietly where in the tower you were and that is what gave them the upperhand.

But looking at Loki right now. It shocked you, he looked so peaceful. Like New York never happened. You didnt understand. But Loki felt your gaze om him and looked up, his eyes meeting your own. Your eyes widened and you shot your head down to resume your reading, trying to hide away.

His gaze lingered trying to recall why he recognized you, and when he remembered he felt remorse. You were the only human he didnt try to hurt in New York. He didnt know why he couldn't, maybe it was the look on your face. Or the knowledge that you couldnt move in fear he would do something. He knew you wanted nothing to do with him. He could tell you were struggling to be in the same room as him so he took his book and left to his chambers so he wouldnt bother you. That action put many questions in your head. Why did he leave? Did he recognize me? Was he trying to be kind? You couldnt comprehend his actions, but were thankful none the less.

It had been a week and you had read most of the books you used to help with your thesis but the last one you needed you couldn't understand. It was in English but it was very confusing to you. You knew Thor couldnt help because he had other things to do. And the only people you really spoke to during your time here were the servants who Thor had sent to give you meals and remind you to sleep.

That gave you one more option that you dreaded to even think about. Loki. He obviously loves reading, he came in daily to change his book and left immediately after, and he was Asgardian so he knew the history. But you just didnt want to face him. Your history wasnt a good one. But you knew you needed help. And he was academically smarter than Thor. You knew which room was his, you asked just so you could avoid it. He had avoided you to make you feel safer - or that's what you presumed at least. It was the last bit of information you needed for your paper so you had to do it. The sooner you did, the sooner you could go back home.

So you bravely got up and headed to the side of the palace you avoided at all costs. The layout was almost mirrored so it was easy to get around. Then you found his door. You hesitated for a moment. Contemplating if you should even do this. You hand was balled into a fist ready to knock, before the door opened by itself. You looked up to see Loki's radient blue eyes looking down at you in confusion with a raised brow. You dropped your hand to your side. There was a silence between you before you spoke.

"I need your help." An amused grin appeared on his face his eyes never leaving your own.

"Oh? And what could i possibly help you with that my dear brother cannot" His voice was dripping with sarcasm, obviously amused at your request for assistance.

"I need help learning Asgardian history and no one i know is academically smarter than you. You-you come to the library daily to change your books, so- its obvious you like to read" You were surprised you could form a sentence, let alone two. He broke you away from your thoughts with a chuckle.

"Yes i enjoy reading, it would be a pleasure to help you darling" Darling? The way he said it made your heart skip a beat. Was it the intimating tone? Or the fact he gave you a nickname. You couldnt tell. But for the first time ever you gave him a genuine smile.

"Thank you very much. I left my stuff in the Library, i didnt think you would accept my request." This time it was a lot easier to talk. His eyes weren't as dark as they were that day in New York. They were calmer, at peace. They were bright and full of hidden stories you wanted to read.

"Why would i refuse the request of such a beautiful midgardian" Your breath got stuck in your throat. He complimented the very woman he had frightened years prior. That fear that had been knawing at you for years suddenly disappeared. He felt lile a different person entirely. Thor was right, he has changed. Tony wouldn't believe it though. He would never trust Loki, you knew him well enough to know that. But your opinion of him has completely changed.

"Lets go then, i only have two more days to complete my paper." He nodded and closed his door leading the way even if you already knew where you were going, you didnt mind. You stayed by his side holding a small conversation until you made it to the Library. You sat down and explained what you didnt understand, he simplified the context so I would be able to gather the information I needed. You were just about finished when Thor came to check up on you. He was shocked to see you not just near Loki but speaking to him. He knew of your dislike for him so he didnt know what to do. You were facing the pages of the book so you didn't see him enter. He made his presence known by closing the door he had previously left open. You looked up and smiled as you saw him. You hand automatically gave him a snall wave before returning to your notebook.

"What are you doing here brother?" Thor obviously wanted answers so you didnt give Loki a chance to.

"He's helping me learn about Asgardian history! He simplified it so I was able to understand much better. Plus hes very knowledgeable."

"So you're okay? Being with him after last time i thought-"

"Yeah I mean I hesitated to even ask for help but I'm glad I did. Plus he has some very funny stories fron your childhood too. The stabby snake one is my favourite." You saw Thor's frown deepen knowing that Loki shared embarrassing stories of himself. But he was happy nonetheless. You were able to talk to his brother without the fear if getting hurt.

"How long do until your research is complete? Tony has asked me to escort you home once your done with your studies." You shrugged in response.

"Not long, about two hours or so." A smile made its way to your lips knowing youll be able to go home. But you heart ached at the thought of leaving Loki after befriending him so suddenly.

"But will Loki be able to come with us? He taught me so much about Asgard I want to show him earths history. I can take him to the museum I took you to when you were first curious." Thor was pondering your request to take his brother to the avengers tower alongside you. How would Tony react knowing you feared his brother? Would the rest of the avengers be okay with it.

"Theres a spare room across from mine he could stay in durin his visit. C'mon Thor. Please, its not very often that i get over my fears." You're eyes pleaded to him. Begging for him to say yes. You needed to talk to Loki about the modern literature on earth. You had plenty of books in your own room you could let him borrow. And it seemed like Thor knew he couldnt win this fight.

"Alright, Loki can you escort her home once you're done?" Thor had put every ounce of trust he had into his brother. He knew you weren't capable of combat but he also knew how similar the two of you were.

"Of course brother. I shall take good care if her, you need not worry." And then Thor took his leave. It was a good idea to bring Loki with you. Once you got home Tony was less than pleased at the sight of Loki, he begged you to hate him again and make him leave. But you wouldn't. You had to many things to show him. You had so much in common plus, in the short amount of time that you trusted him, he may have found his way into your heart.

#loki x reader #mcu loki #loki #loki odinson #loki lafeyson #loki imagine #loki x you #cazza writes

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eframschweigersskincells · 4 years ago

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So, Return to Hell was an absolute rollercoaster of emotions and I couldn't have asked for a better ending to the season three dlc missions.

SPOILER WARNING BY THE WAY!

Holy shit was this season a wild ride and with an absolute banger of an ending all I can say is well done rebellion you pulled it out the bag and held it high, I was so happy with everything and just my god its really hard to put down everything I'm so enthralled I can barely think straight.

I remember when the trailer dropped and I was so overcome with both excitement and sadness at seeing what the dlc entailed, I was so happy to see schweiger alive but devastated to see what was happening to him and originally I thought we were going to sacrifice him to help Umbra which terrified me, thank fuck I was wrong I dont think I could handle hurting my boy.

The intro was excellent, it really felt like distressing and that this was truly a moment of despair the way bruno spoke of it was absolutely amazing and I couldn't wait to get stick in. And when it finally gave way to the gameplay the opening area was absolutely stunning!

The way it's so familiar yet so foreign, like I'd seen it before but it had been so twisted that it was unrecognisable, lava around every corner and debris floating as if frozen in time the ground and walls cracked and crumbling and the fiery hues made this a fantastic yet haunting sight I hadn't even begun playing and I already fell in love with it.

When I finally moved on and the Baron began his tirade about the state of hell and how it was shaped and molded to fit the subconscious mind of schweiger I was shocked and saddened, to think that this was schweiger's fractured mind was frightening, all his guilt, fear, anger, confusion, sadness became reality and hell took its horrifying form filled with endless undead. I also found it really cool to see events play out from schweiger's perspective, meat locker, hell base and terror lab all playing out in schweiger's memories allowing us a glimpse in to everything that happened to him. He was betrayed so many times, I don't blame him at all for turning on us in deeper than hell, the amount of cruelty he suffered would drive anyone insane.

Being captured and forced to research the occult without any understanding of why, being tricked in to activating the relic allowing hitler to activate plan Z, working your hardest to try and make the world right then have your team infiltrated by nazi bastards who push you in to a hell tower and forcefully tear you from this plane of existence and left to rot in hell. Just when you think you can finally escape you're confronted with the fact you can not leave, only your closest comrades can leaving you in hell against everyone's will, then a voice manipulates you in to believing you were betrayed by your friends you're lied to and tricked in to believing this voice is your only friend who makes you do horrific rituals.

I remember how horrific I felt hearing this and then when Umbra revealed that he did all of this so he could break schweiger's will so he could steal his body I was filled with rage. Rebellion were amazing at putting emotion in to this one I genuinely went through constant emotional shifts realising that everything we had done up to this point was planned by Umbra and that everything we had done was only to fuel his plans. It was never schweiger's fault it was umbras and that knocked me on my arse.

The gameplay was a lot of fun, one of the best parts was that absolutely everything was randomised! The main sections of the map where always switched around no matter how many times you play it at first I went meat locker, hell base then terror lab then my second time I went hell base, terror lab then meat locker! I was shocked when everything cane out of order but it fits so well with everything! Schweiger's mind is so badly fractured that when hell took form as schweiger's subconscious not even hell itself could keep things in order.

I genuinely adore how the old familiar faces of these maps are destroyed, twisted and corrupted they are what we have seen before but warped till they look like different maps entirely, with so much more to explore in some areas it really gives you a sense of walking through broken memories like piecing together a memory Efram barely has a grip on anymore.

I loved how enemies were randomised too, getting attacked by a screamer around the corner then next time you go there prepared for a screamer you get blown up by suiciders or slaughtered by skeletons or an elite or in my favourite case being attacked by zombie alpha squad members! When zombie me jumped out and attacked I was so confused I didnt have time to respond when zombie jun popped out and killed me it was fucking awesome!

All our favourite enemy variations are here too, vampire creepers, electric suiciders, armored commanders, skeletons etc which really made for a really tough but good fight, never knowing what variation was coming to get you made everything even more fun.

And with the spitters now having a variant that spat magma it made what was usually an annoying inconvenience an actual proper threat and I love that so fucking much, maybe the spitters aren't so horrible after all.

That's a lie I still fucking hate them but oh well!

Once we successfully complete all three areas we now return to the main area with a very pissed off Umbra and schweiger who although conscious is barely alive. As soon as we arrive back to were we began we are immediately attacked and dragged off to an unknown place that we only know as the void as coined by Umbra.

Let me tell you when I say the void is creepy I fucking mean it, the void is of course pitch black you cant see anything not even your flash light does anything to the surrounding darkness, all you see when you spawn is the pitch black and eframs body of a slab surrounded by candles with Umbra looking over us and you really get the the sense of "holy shit, this is it!"

I genuinely adored the design of the void, the fact you only ever see your surroundings when a split second of bright red lighting strikes and even then you only see the faint outline of distant places, walking through the endless river of blood that stops you to a near snail's pace while fending of oncoming dead is genuinely spectacular! Holy fuck did rebellion pull it out the bag this round!

Just when you think you're about to have to do something to the incapacitated schweiger, Edie finally fucking shows up and does something useful for once, breaking schweiger out of his trance and giving him enough power to fend for himself when she realises Umbra has no defences! Thank fuck because now we know how to finally end The Baron and let me tell you I couldn't be happier to get the chance at killing the bastard.

The fights were challenging and had me cornered a few times and I'll admit I died a couple times but it was absolutely worth it, there was so much going on but it wasnt overbearing, with how large the areas you had to fight the hordes in were it made the fucking insane amounts of zombies absolutely balanced, I never felt like it was impossible but never felt it was too easy either just the right balance of insanity. And to make it even better I get to listen to schweiger shit talk the Baron as we help Efram regain strength while weakening Umbra.

Listening to Umbra beg and plead for mercy was great, it really felt like we were overpowering hell itself, no matter what Umbra threw our way it did absolutely nothing and listening to schweiger come to terms with what he's done and immediately work towards redemption by putting down Umbra was heartwarming. We were the winners not Umbra.

Then finally we get to what I've been wanting to do since the beginning of the DLC, after two whole hours I finally got to put an end to the Baron, activating that ending cutscene was so satisfying and I got to put down my controller and watch.

I'll admit I was confused when Umbea sprung back to life and actually attacked, where hitler failed to stop us during hell machine Umbra full pounced, he was going to take us with him and for a second I absolutely believed we were going to die with him, the fuck tries ripping our soul out rendering us absolutely useless. Its schweiger that saves us, pulling us away from Umbra then eviscerating the fuck out of him with ease and with that The Baron himself is dead, finally the tyrant is dead and everything we had worked towards was finally put to rest.

Just before that scene ends, we see schweiger smile! He's actually happy for once, free from Umbras grip, he's faced his fears and insecurities and in the end was the one who saved us and destroyed The Baron. To see him smile was one of the greatest things ever and I'm so glad we finally got to see that.

In last few moments of the ending, we wake up on the side of a cliff with Dr schweiger by our side and as the camera zooms out we see nothing but an endless sea of lava and I'm left thinking.

What the fuck is Projekt Ragnarok?

#zombies #horror #rebellion #shooter #zombie army 4 #zombie army 4 dead war #efram schweiger #photography #best game 2020 #god i love this game #who allowed you to be that awesome #what an achievement #best dlc ever

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astralaffairs · 5 years ago

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freedom of the press 05.2 | thomas jefferson

title: freedom of the press 05.2, or the point of no return

pairing: thomas jefferson x reader

words: literally 20k. remember when my estimate for both parts of 05 was 20k total?? hahahah

warnings: shitty weather, sexual tension finally comes to a head, mild embarrassment, death mentions, trashing on politicians, implied sex 👀

desc: the 2020 republican presidential frontrunner is an obnoxious, morally bankrupt people-pleaser, but what happens when you become the person he’s most eager to please?

tags: @stargazelaurens @ivory-haired-queens @exoticxchicken8 @assbuttstyles777 @superbarriobrothers @distinguishedpotsticker @fukaaaaaaaa @hereforthepsyche-assessment @ivetoldamillionlies @fangirl570 @thealaddinkid @lasciviouspeach @snazzydoesthings @shy-and-awkward-daveed @rachelhermionerose @soft-weeb-s @gryffinclxw @anamrnk @daveeddiggsit @ayayayayana @marinovakovich @cryinghazelnutt @thefandomgirl03 @a-hopeless-fan @cloudywlw @tinywhim @lolidunnoaboutnow @siriusorionblackiii— hope i didnt miss anyone; lmk if you want to be added!!

IT WASN'T A day later when Y/N saw Thomas again, but that time, she was in no mood for his antics.

It was one of her first days back to work at the diner, and while she'd known it was busy during lunch and dinner, she had entirely forgotten how overwhelming the crowd was during weekend rush hours. So, unfortunately, that Sunday was a wakeup call.

She'd already been on her feet for five hours; it was just after 1 PM, and she'd elected to take the opening shift that morning (it meant she could leave earlier, and that was good enough for her). However, with the sea of customers that continued to leak into the restaurant, her exhaustion was growing and growing. Moreover, Jac had let it slip to her that the tenant who lived above the diner had just moved out, and she was stuck in her head trying to figure out a way to bring it up to Mira that didn't reek of desperation. Her focus was entirely elsewhere, by then.

"Hi, what can I get you?" She'd just rushed back from making two cappuccinos and still had to get back to the ovens to make sure her bread didn't burn, so with how preoccupied she was, she hardly noticed who was standing before her. He, however, realized immediately.

"Oh... Hey." Thomas's eyes were wide as he looked down at Y/N, but her reaction to him was nothing but expectant. He cleared his throat, trying to bury how stunned he was, and she turned her attention to the screen as he gave her his lunch order. She didn't look up as a grin began to grow on his lips. By then, she'd obviously taken note of his presence, but she was far too tired to care. "So you're a barista now?"

He quirked up an eyebrow as she frantically typed in his order. It seemed to be as complicated as possible, and she would be lying if she said she didn't suspect that it was intentional. She huffed. "We can't all live in penthouses on Capitol Hill," she bit back at him irritably, and his expression went from playful to surprised.

"Hey, now." His tone was lightly offended as he furrowed his brow. He swiped his credit card, eyeing her warily as her stare bore into the keypad before her. "Was just gonna comment on your many talents, but alright."

She sighed as she met his eyes with a tired gaze. "Name for the order?"

He furrowed his brow. "Seriously?" She stared at him expectantly, though the corners of her lips twitched up almost imperceptibly. He rolled his eyes. "It's Thomas."

"And how do you spell that?"

"Like you've never written it before?"

Y/N was growing progressively more amused, tongue-in-cheek as she looked up at him, but her smile was well-suppressed. She wasn't going to let up. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean." She raised her eyebrows, silently challenging him to call her out. However, he'd apparently decided to play along instead.

"I'll let you guess that one, Ms... " He trailed off, squinting at her nametag, and she was having trouble swallowing the laugh that had begun to bubble up in her throat. She pursed her lips, trying not to find the whole ordeal endearing. "Y/N?" He looked up with an eyebrow raised, as though to confirm the pronunciation, and she gave him a sarcastic smile.

"Your order will be out shortly."

He grinned. Despite the irony in her expression, his was heavy with mirth. "Thanks so much, sweetheart; be sure to vote Jefferson in the primaries." He added a wink to his words as he put his wallet away. She rolled her eyes, biting back a scoff.

"I'll keep it in mind."

She finished sending in his order as he walked off with a grin before she retreated back into the kitchen, the other barista appearing to momentarily relieve her of her cashier duties. She was still in the thick of the lunch rush, and she couldn't lose track of her priorities -- especially since they were running quickly out of lemon bars, and it was rising unfortunately rapidly in importance for her to finish the yet-to-be-baked batch. Not that it contributed to her decision to move to the kitchens or anything, but she also couldn't stamp out the heat rising to her cheeks or her unyielding smile. (She couldn't explain them, either.)

"What's got you all smiley?" Jac raised an eyebrow as he packaged carry-out orders, and she quickly pressed her lips into a thin line. She slid the uncooked pan of lemon bars out of the refrigerator.

"Just glad to be back at the diner." She turned away from him with her dismissive excuse. The oven was always preheated for one reason or another, so she just slid in her pan, quickly withdrew her finished loaves of bread, and continued on, but Jac wasn't ready to let it go just yet.

"So it doesn't have anything to do with--?"

"I've gotta go back to mixing drinks, Jac; the line is a mile long," she cut him off abruptly, and he deadpanned. His pointed glance out the kitchen window toward the table where Thomas was sitting said all it needed to, and though she didn't miss it, she ignored it. "Let me know if you need me back here for anything. Can you take the lemon bars out when they're done?"

"Mm-hmm."

She ignored his suspicion as she rushed back out to brew another pot of coffee. She was still at work; she couldn't let herself ruminate on a two-minute interaction when there were customers who'd been waiting for at least half an hour, and so she let it slip to the back of her mind as she jumped from one task to the next, until finally--

"Order up for--" She heard a pause as she glanced toward the other end of the counter, seeing her coworker squinting at the receipt, before calling out, "Secretary Jefferson?"

When he went to collect his food, Y/N was perhaps overly pleased with herself, but she was also wholly unashamed of it, especially as she couldn’t help but notice his amused smile. He raised an eyebrow as he passed her, and she met his eyes brightly.

"Enjoy your food, Secretary Jefferson."

"That's a new way to spell 'Thomas,' huh?" he commented dryly, a brow raised, and she shrugged.

"Gave it my best guess."

"I'm sure you did."

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

UP UNTIL THEN, Y/N had spent the past week letting her writing take a bit of a back seat, her focus instead on her more recent financial crisis. However, it seemed Ashley wasn't going to let her off that easy. She'd reminded her on an abundance of occasions (more than twice a day over text and whenever they crossed paths in the office) that researching everything there was to know about Thomas Jefferson was still her job, that she'd still need to go to campaign events -- it as only a matter of time until the other shoe dropped. To her dismay, the 'other shoe' apparently meant she was required to make another day trip to Charlottesville, and it may have been one of her only work commitments, but she wasn't going to refrain from grumbling about it.

The only benefit of the situation was that her gracious host and temporary landlord also happened to be going, so she didn't have to go miserably navigate another black-tie political fundraiser alone.

When Lafayette pulled up in a Mercedes, she rolled her eyes. They were going to spend almost as much time in the car as they were at the venue, but it also appeared he wasn't going to let her slip under the radar as she'd hoped.

The mocking went both ways, though. Where he was excessively flashy, she was astoundingly fixated on her own comfort, rather than style. Lafayette laughed outright when she came to his car in a formal dress and a pair of slippers, pearls and pajama pants. (It was the middle of a blizzard, though, for fuck's sake. She didn't intend to freeze, and she certainly didn't intend to try and traipse through the mounting snow in four-inch heels and stockings.)

The ride south was painless if she didn't consider Lafayette's substandard taste in music or how poor visibility was. (She wasn't behind the wheel, so the latter wasn't her problem.) When they reached Monticello, though, she wasn't sure painless was how she could've described the rest of her night.

It was already dark when they arrived, the snowfall not having let up for a moment, and she whined about having to trade out her slippers for her heels, almost unwilling to sacrifice her pajama pants. However, entering the mansion had her almost immediately forgetting her strife.

Monticello was a grand estate. Staircases curved up either side of the entrance hall, coats being taken near one wall as everyone was funneled into the grand parlor -- not before passing the first of many elaborate chandeliers, though. The atmosphere was alight; the air held the warm, sweet scents of cinnamon and cherry wine -- at least, by Y/N's best, unrealistically-specific guess, but regardless of whether she was correct, she'd already begun to salivate.

"Shall we sit?" Lafayette offered her his arm, which she took, not for the sake of appearances, but because her feet were absolutely killing her, and she was desperate to take a load off. She looked up at him gratefully.

"Yes, please."

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

MUCH OF THEIR evening was uneventful. Lafayette socialized while Y/N networked; he drank four glasses of wine as she worked through her first; he pulled people to his sides to sing with him to the music of the cellist at the back of the room, and she took vigorous notes about the statuses of every campaign patron she interacted with. Needless to say, they had rather disparate experiences.

"Oh, Y/N!"

She stumbled backward as she was all but jumped on the edge of the parlor, being pulled into an enthusiastic embrace, and her eyes were wide when she recognized the smiling face of her assailant.

"Dolley! Hey!" She pulled away with a laugh, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. The woman had become increasingly affectionate as Y/N had begun to see her more often, and if she'd been comfortable hugging her when they first met, then being tackled that evening did seem to logically follow. "How are you?"

She shrugged. "Been better, been worse. I'm at another campaign event, so that should tell you all you need to know." She checked her hip lightly against Y/N's with that, wearing a playful grin, and Y/N couldn't help but laugh.

"You and me both."

"I take it you're here on work, then?" Dolley took a sip of her wine, an eyebrow raised. (Y/N was rather impressed that the glass hadn't sloshed all down her dress, what with Dolley immediately ambushing her upon entering her line of vision.)

Y/N sighed. "I always seem to be. Not even allowed to get drunk at these events. How fair is that?" The complaint held little true bitterness, though, with the playful glint in her eyes.

Dolley looked indignant on her behalf. "You poor thing; they've really put you through the wringer, huh?"

"You don't know the half of it." Y/N's mock exhaustion provoked a laugh from Dolley, who pursed her lips, ultimately shrugging.

"You did gain me from it though." Her matter-of-fact tone made Y/N roll her eyes. "Count your blessings, Y/N."

"Really. I can be so ungrateful." She shook her head, upholding her exasperated facade, though when a grin split through Dolley's mask of disappointment, Y/N couldn't help the corners of her lips quirking up.

"What's tonight's article about, anyway? A critique of the baked brie? 'Thomas Jefferson Doesn't Know How to Throw a Party: An Exposé'?"

Y/N let out a huff of mirthless laughter. "If only. Instead, I'm supposed to be digging up some of Schrödinger's dirt on the campaign funders. My editor has no idea whether it exists or not, but here I am anyway." She paused with that, cocked her head to the side, pondering the question. "Now that you mention it, though, maybe my true calling was to be a food critic."

"Follow your dreams," Dolley agreed, nodding. "It'd probably be more exciting than this thriller of a crowd."

Y/N laughed at that. While the atmosphere was upbeat, she'd hardly seen any signs of life among its attendees, if she didn't count Lafayette's drunken instrumental karaoke. "What, the over-60 crowd of doctors and lawyers isn't doing it for you?"

Dolley grinned. "That's where you come in, dear."

"Suppose I should be glad to hear it," Y/N sighed as she eyed the room, forcing the false nonchalance into her voice. "Might have to change my exposé to how our prospective second lady is just using me for her own entertainment."

She hummed in agreement. "Mm, be sure to mention how cold and aloof I always am."

"You truly are cruel to me, aren't you?" Y/N met her eyes once again, her gaze wistful.

"Bet your readers will love to hear such a scandal."

"I can see it now," Y/N agreed, holding up her hands to paint the headline as she continued, "'My Toxic Relationship With Dolley Madison. Be Ready for the Articles of Impeachment.'"

As she laughed, a self-content smile adorned Y/N's lips. "What, are you planning to impeach me from the role of 'possible future second lady'?"

"Of course; I figured the implication was obvious," Y/N agreed, making the older woman roll her eyes.

"I wish you the best of luck with that, sincerely."

"I'll need it."

Dolley had been about to respond with a dry quip of her own, but Y/N's gaze was over her shoulder, not realizing she was cutting her off as a smile split through her face. "James!"

(Dolley wasn't too hurt as she learned who she'd been cut off in lieu of.)

The man in question was approaching the pair of them with two full glasses of wine, presumably one to replace what Dolley had just finished throwing back. (Why not? No one was counting.) "Y/N." He gave her a curt nod, amused smile playing at his lips.

"James." It was then Dolley who addressed him, reaching out to grab his extra glass from his hand without a second thought, expression longing, but James pulled it just out of her reach with his eyebrows raised.

"Haven't you had enough?" he asked his wife with a glint in his eye, who in turn huffed, folding her arms.

"Don't you dare," she complained. "I'm here for you; let's not forget."

"Of course not." He leaned down to press a kiss to the side of her head as he handed her the glass. Her small smile altogether betrayed her glare.

"Dunno why I put up with you." She pursed her lips into a pout, and he shrugged.

"Your prerogative, Doll."

She held his warm gaze for a moment longer before she seemed to remember herself, and she took a step back from him, turning to Y/N as her tender expression was immediately replaced with a grin. "Anyway, James, Y/N is here covering the demographics of your and Thomas's donors."

She gestured toward Y/N with the hand still bearing a full glass, and Y/N didn't comment when upwards of a tablespoon sloshed over the rim with the motion. James raised an eyebrow, wearing his forever-unshakeable look of composure. "That right?"

Y/N nodded with a light sigh. "Unfortunately."

"And what have you found, so far?" James's lips were pressed into a thin line at how exhausted she appeared, giving his best effort to hide his amusement.

"Oh, it's been real exciting stuff, hasn't it, dear?" Dolley wore a facade of sincerity as she addressed Y/N, her brow knit as though deep in thought, and Y/N matched her disposition.

"Absolutely scintillating, truly. I've only fallen asleep about fourteen times, which is a real feat for corporate America." She nodded to James earnestly as to corroborate, and he raised an amused eyebrow.

"Consider me impressed." Y/N gave a cheeky grin, and he continued, "Have you enjoyed what you've found thus far?"

She hummed skeptically. "Couldn't tell you. I was asleep the whole time."

That coaxed a laugh out of him, though. "I expect this will be a glowing article, then."

"The less I learn, the better?" She cocked an eyebrow as she glanced around the room, her gaze drifting from one wealthy businessman to the next.

"The less you conclude, the better," he corrected her with a knowing smile as he followed her gaze across the sea of patrons. "Don't assume anyone you speak to has the full story."

"Would you care to comment, then, James?" He turned to her with her eyebrows raised. "Because I really need some actual information, and I really don't want to go interview Jeff Bezos."

"'Jeff Bezos'?" he repeated quizzically, and she shrugged as she looked back to him.

"Seems like his type of crowd, no?" James chuckled, shaking his head as she continued, "What about Steve Forbes? I wouldn't mind getting a quote from him before the writers who actually work at Forbes can manage it."

"We aren't taking donations from CEOs or super PACs, actually."

"Really?" Her eyebrows shot up. "Is this on the record?"

"It can be." He looked mildly pleased with her reaction as she scrambled to create a new audio file on her phone. "We didn't want--"

"Shh! Gimme a minute. It hasn't started recording," she chastised him, and his smile grew at how exasperated she looked. "Alright, now speak."

"I'm a politician, Y/N, not a trained monkey." His indignation was wholly in jest, but she sighed dramatically, looking at him with a deadpan stare.

"Of course you aren't," she consoled him with an air of faux-sympathy, but he seemed to expect -- and rightly so -- that she wasn't done making fun. "You don't tell monkeys to speak; that's for show dogs. I'm not stupid."

He ignored the sigh that accompanied her words, raising an eyebrow. "So you're comparing me to a dog?"

Again, she plastered on a front of fatigue, which only compounded upon his amusement at her demeanor. "James, please, I'm supposed to be the one asking the questions here."

He rolled his eyes, but it seemed he'd exhausted his banter for the time being. "Please, ask away."

"So, back to CEOs and PACs. Why won't you take their donations?"

"We want to show that we're really here, in this, for the people." She cocked her head to the side, lifting the phone to be sure to catch his words, and he continued, "We want to demonstrate that we have no conflict of interest with the corporate sector. And if we don't receive enough donations for the campaign, then we don't have enough support to properly represent the people."

Y/N was silent a moment, brow furrowed, and she nodded ever-so-slightly as she pondered his words. Finally, she admitted, "I didn't think this was that kind of campaign, to be honest."

Her reaction seemed to gratify him; his eyes shone with pride. "You thought we lacked principles, you mean?"

She pursed her lips. "It's... possible that I may have made some assumptions."

"Well, I'm always happy to be the bearer of good news."

"Glad to receive it," she agreed quietly. The look in her eyes was absent, but her momentary trance broke almost before they'd noticed it, and she donned a wide smile. "Maybe you'll actually have some common ground with my readers this week, hm? Truly bridging the partisan divide. What a feat." While her enthusiasm was contrived, her words were sincere, and Dolley grinned.

"We knew you'd come around to our side."

"Woah, woah, woah." She held up her hands in playful defense. "I'm not the one changing sides. This was our political territory first."

"You really think Adams is rejecting corporate funding?" James looked at her expectantly, and she deadpanned.

"John Adams is not representative of his entire party, I can promise you that much."

"But he's the candidate."

"Not yet, he isn't," she resisted, and James raised an eyebrow. "It isn't fair to hold him to the standard of the party nominee when we've hardly started the primaries."

He tilted his head to one side as he regarded her, lips pursed. "Maybe not, but Thomas has been consistent with his values since the very beginning of our campaign."

"Who said Thomas was the standard?"

"What are we callin' me the standard of, now?" The southern drawl caught Y/N off-guard, and she flinched, her eyes widening. She turned reluctantly to see James's ever-so-principled candidate in the flesh, an eyebrow raised and wearing an amused grin as he came up on her left behind Dolley.

"Thomas!" To her relief, Dolley's overwhelming affection bought her a moment to gather her bearings as she pulled him into a bone-crushing hug. "Oh, how are you? I haven't seen you all night!"

Y/N couldn't explain why her throat was suddenly dry as Thomas slowly removed Dolley from where she'd latched onto his shoulders, nor why her stomach turned at the sight of him. He was beaming almost as brightly as Dolley as he held her by the forearms, but Y/N missed what they were saying. Her heart had begun pounding in her ears, and she wiped her sweating palms on her dress as discreetly as she could, tucking her phone back into her purse in an attempt to busy herself with anything other than his presence as he went on to embrace James. She prayed she'd find an opportunity to remove herself from the conversation unnoticed.

Her opportunity never came. She emerged from her bag to see Thomas looking over at her with an eyebrow raised, apparently entertained by how abruptly flustered she'd become. "Y/N."

She pulled the straps of her purse back up to her shoulder with a weak smile. "Thomas. Hey."

She couldn't fully explain her sudden anxiety, didn't know quite why her heart was racing. Maybe it was just that he'd surprised her, or that he'd walked into a conversation that he was the focus of -- or maybe, though she discarded the thought deep into her subconscious, she was simply blindsided by being confronted with his presence in public, still struggling to figure out where it was the two of them stood.

Though she shifted uncomfortably, folding her arms, he didn't look away for another moment. The silence grew deafening, but she didn't have it in her to break his gaze, and she swallowed roughly. When he finally turned his attention from her, he chuckled almost imperceptibly; his smile had broadened.

"So what'd I miss?" He looked brightly over to James, making no effort to conceal how pleased he was. "You all talkin' about how great I am?"

"You're not far off, actually," James informed him, wearing a knowing smile. Thomas's eyebrows shot up. "We were discussing our campaign funding policy."

"And we're not already bein' smacked in the press for it?" He looked at Y/N with mocking disbelief, and she just rolled her eyes. She elected to ignore the heat rising in her cheeks.

"Quite the contrary," James said with a nod. "Y/N was impressed."

James looked contented, but Y/N could almost see Thomas's ego tangibly swelling, and he turned to her with wide eyes, surprise flashing in his gaze. "Is that so?" He sounded as smug as he looked, and Y/N fixed him with a flat stare.

"Are you really looking for acclaim just because you aren't corrupt?" she asked dryly. When he didn't respond, it became increasingly obvious that praise was exactly what he wanted, and she rolled her eyes. "Congrats, Thomas. You must be so proud."

"Trust me, sweetheart, I am." His smirk had taken root, by then; there wasn't anything she could've said or done to knock him down a peg. "Thought it'd be a cold day in hell before you'd support anything my campaign was doin'."

"Then maybe there are a few things you should re-evaluate," she replied, voice stiff, and he laughed.

"Or maybe," he began, raising a cocky eyebrow. "You should re-evaluate your party loyalty. Y'know, the primaries aren't gonna end for another couple months. You aren't runnin' outta time just yet."

"It's gonna take a lot more than that to convince me to register as a Republican, Thomas."

"You'll come around." His words came alongside a wink, which evoked a scowl from her.

"We'll see about that."

"Mm, sounds like a challenge, Y/N," he teased, a singsong lilt in his tone. His eyes narrowed as he took a sip of his drink, and the preying glint in his gaze sent a shudder down the back of her neck. "But I think you'll find I can be very convincing."

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

“HEY, HOW MUCH longer do you want to stay?"

She'd finally managed to track down Lafayette near the refreshments table at the back of the room, and by then, he was well past tipsy.

"We cannot leave yet! Where 'ave you been all zis time? You 'ave been missing all ze fun!" He threw an enthusiastic arm around her neck, throwing her off balance a moment, and as his wide grin didn't waver, she sighed.

"Laf, I have to work in the morning."

"Ah, loosen up, first," he pleaded, tugging her alongside him toward the crowd near the music. (She wasn't sure how he'd managed to get a crowd of politicians and businesspeople turnt to Brahms, but she was undeniably impressed.) "You will regret not enjoying yourself, chérie!"

"I think it's a little too late for that," she muttered bitterly, though he was too absorbed with the energy of the room to notice.

"What was zat?"

"Nothing," she told him, louder that time. "I'm gonna go find a bathroom, real quick."

"Non! You are just trying to get away from me!" He was more insistent that time as he pulled her to the cellist, and she huffed.

"C'mon, I'll be back in a minute, okay?" She hesitantly removed his hand from his shoulder, and he gave her a disappointed glance. "I've just had a little too much to drink; gimme a break."

As feeble as her excuse was, seeing as she'd hardly had a drop of anything all night with her effort to stay painfully sober (and their drink options didn't go far past wine), Lafayette released her with a pitying wince. "Ah, no worries. I understand." He hesitated a moment, before adding, "Do you need me to 'old your hair back?"

She couldn't help her laugh at his genuine concern. "I think I'll be alright. Thank you, though."

"Be safe, chérie!" His voice was all but slurred as he pressed a sloppy kiss to the top of her head before wandering off, and she pursed her lips, amused as she watched him go. She would've tried to keep an eye on his blood alcohol content, but he was already drunk to the point of no return, and he seemed too enraptured by what he'd made of the evening to break away for long enough to refill his glass again.

She chuckled lightly, shaking her head as she turned to leave. The first left she took just led her into the dining room, so she turned back toward the entrance hall, trying to find any nook or cranny that split off into a part of the estate where she could have some quiet. She wasn't sure what she was trying to find, necessarily, but she wasn't about to get wasted with Lafayette. One of them had to be able to drive home.

A right, a left, and another right later, she'd gained next to no information on where exactly she was heading, other than that of the sitting room she'd just passed. Her watch told her it was just past 11 PM, and she sighed. She wasn't sure when she'd be able to drag Lafayette back out the front doors, at that rate.

The hall she continued down didn't lead her into a bathroom, to her dismay, but what she saw had her footsteps gradually stalling as her gaze raked down the walls around her. She'd stumbled upon a rather grand library, and one look to her right told her that it would only continue on the further they walked.

She glanced back over her shoulder, and seeing only the empty room she'd just left with its empty armchairs, gave in to her curiosity, wandering toward the side of the room with wonder in her eyes.

The bookshelves reached the ceilings, and every book was bound in aging leather, many torn or cracked at their spines. It had to be some sort of a collection, with the sheer number of novels -- and biographies, and anthologies of poetry, of short stories, even memoirs and atlases, as she realized just moments later. She ran her fingers over the gilded edges as she continued on into the next room.

The hall ended in a small sitting room, one that didn't have nearly the same pomp and circumstance as the rest of the estate, but it was cozy, with its red sofa and armchairs, its wood-burning fireplace and little lamps. The room was illuminated softly with the only light filtering in being from the adjacent rooms and the moon, and the small fireplace cast a warm glow before it.

She bit her lip, wore a small smile as she drew closer to the window at the back of the room. Her gaze was fixated on the bookshelf beside it, and -- as every book, every spine and title came into clear focus -- despite her hesitance, she pushed herself up onto her toes, reaching for a volume more than a foot above her head. Before she could pull it down, though--

"Should've known you'd find the library at some point."

"Thomas!" she squeaked in surprise, recoiling from the bookshelf -- she'd recognized his voice immediately, her eyes wide. She whirled around to see him leaning against the doorway and unconsciously took a step back, feeling much like a child who'd been caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

He didn't look angry, though. In fact, his expression was far from it. His gaze was soft, his arms folded and ankles crossed, and though he looked amused, his smile held none of its frequent mockery despite her clear panic.

He raised an eyebrow, and she blinked hard, immediately began to try to excuse her presence there. "Shit, I... I didn't mean to end up here, honestly, I was just looking for the bathroom, and I--"

"Relax, sweetheart, you're not under fire." He chuckled lightly as he pushed himself off the doorway, walked toward her into the room. "Looks like I'm not the only one who needed some air, huh?"

His gaze flickered down just a moment as she bit her lip. "Really, I was just trying to find the bathroom," her words were quiet, hesitant, and he raised a skeptical eyebrow.

"Oh, really?" She nodded. "Go ahead. It's down the end of the hall and to your right." He tilted his head toward the rooms behind him, and her brows shot up. She hadn't expected to be put on the spot about the excuse -- she'd initially produced it just for Lafayette's sake and wouldn't have thought it needed to be any more thorough than it was.

She was reluctant to take a step forward, and she glanced back over her shoulder at the bookshelf, desperate not to leave after she'd just struck gold, as it were.

"I..."

"You...?" He waited for her to continue, his skepticism never subsiding, and when she didn't, staying rooted to her spot, a smug smile began to play at his lips. "That's what I thought.

She hated how easily he'd called her bluff, and she refused to meet his gaze as it grew increasingly self-satisfied. She scowled. "And what are you doing back here?"

"Didn't I just tell you I was lookin' for some peace and quiet?" He raised an eyebrow. "Or did you think someone just left that fire to try and burn this whole place down? Hm?"

She could feel herself flush as she crossed her arms; she hadn't thought that far into the fireplace that was active long past when it should've been, admittedly. "So you're just trying to run off while you have a parlor full of people giving you copious amounts of money right around the corner?"

"Somethin' like that."

She furrowed her brow. "Why?"

"Do you have any idea how exhaustin' this gets?" He looked down at her, wearing a timid smile. "I've been gettin' grilled all night; you'd be tired too."

Y/N raised her eyebrows, putting on a playful expression of shock. "You're telling me you actually get tired of talking about yourself?"

He cracked a grin. "Nah, just talkin' about the rest of the country. Y'know, the voters, the ones I'm supposed to be representin' or somethin'."

"Be careful, or this is gonna end up in this week's editorial," she warned him, though she couldn't inhibit her smile, and he cocked a brow.

"Oh, yeah? You gonna expose me?" The skepticism was heavy in his words alongside his confident smile, and she shrugged.

"Don't tempt me."

He chuckled, taking a few more steps toward her, the gap between them slowly closing. She swallowed. "Anyway, what's got you tryin' to escape? Lafayette gettin' a little too handsy?"

His teasing quickly had been restored, and she rolled her eyes, ignoring the latter half of the question. "Turns out talking to old philanthropists is just as exhausting when you're the one asking the questions."

"No!" He gasped mockingly, placing a hand on his heart. "You mean workin' till midnight isn't doin' it for you anymore?"

"Oh, don't get me wrong; this is exactly my idea of a good time," she said defensively, though, with the sarcasm in her voice, she couldn't hide her own growing smile. "Usually more of a weekend activity, though. Can't handle this much excitement on a Wednesday."

"And ransackin' my library sounded like a good way to relax?"

"Glad you follow.".

"Find anything you like?" She raised her eyebrows as he further encroached on her space, feeling her breath catch. He stopped beside her, scanning the bookshelf along the back wall, but she was struggling to focus on his words as his shoulder brushed against hers, and she tensed, shied away from the contact. Before she caught herself, her absent stare rested at his lips in the closing proximity; her heart rose to her throat. He raised an eyebrow when she didn't answer, and upon seeing how she was looking at him, he gave a smug grin. "Not includin' me, I mean."

Her eyes widened; she prayed she didn't look nearly as red as she felt as vindication flashed in his eyes. He only continued to watch her expectantly, until finally, she turned alongside him to the books she'd been eyeing. Her gaze didn't take long to find where it'd been fixed before he interrupted her musings.

"I..." She went to reach for the book she was eyeing, but she trailed off as she stopped herself short, glancing nervously back to Thomas. "Can I?"

"Go ahead, sweetheart." He grinned as she stretched up toward the shelf that housed it. She let out a soft, frustrated sigh when she couldn't reach it, pushing herself further up with a hand on a lower shelf, almost jumping for it; all the while, Thomas's smile grew. "Need a hand?"

"Please." Her expression was defeated as she looked to him, and he pulled the book down with ease. She could only focus on his hand resting at the small of her back as he reached above her, his fingertips seeming to burn as they grazed the thin material of her dress, though he was just being careful not to inadvertently tumble into her. He didn't notice how she shivered under the fragile touch, and he raised an eyebrow as he looked the volume over.

"Lord Byron? Really?" He looked down at her curiously, ever-present teasing in his eyes. "Didn't take you for such a romantic."

"There's a lot you don't know about me, Thomas," she replied, looking up at him with her gaze soft, before she cracked a grin. "Besides, what better way to relax is there than reading poetry about the ravages of war at midnight on a Wednesday?"

He laughed. "That's an awful specific type of self-care."

"Can't help that the over-fifty crowd you've assembled has me so riled up."

"I'd think the 19th century would be even wilder."

"So it'll help get my energy out," she quipped. Her gaze was tentative as it flickered back to the book he still held, and he raised an eyebrow.

"Then don't let me get in your way." He held the book out to her, smiling at her hesitance, and she accepted it readily, looking pleased as its title, embossed in gold foil, flashed in the moonlight.

"Always a philanthropist, huh?" Her reply was soft, absentminded, though; she wasn't looking for a response. By then, she was already caught up in the grandeur of the aging anthology of poetry. She settled into one side of the sofa as she hesitantly cracked the spine, terrified by the prospect of damaging it.

She didn't notice Thomas watching her with endearment, didn't even realize when took a seat on the couch beside her until the side of her thigh brushed against his. And when she did notice, she didn't react, though her skin jumped under the thin material of her dress. "This is gorgeous," she said, leafing gently through the book's weathered pages, running her fingertips along little stray marks and notes penciled in. After a moment, she looked up at Thomas. "Where'd you get it?"

"Think it was my great-grandfather's. It's been in the family for a while."

Her eyes widened. "How old is it?"

"This edition's from around 1900," he said, shrugging. "Bought it secondhand years later, though."

"It's more than a hundred years old?"

He chuckled at how dazzled she was, her eyes gleaming and her mouth hanging ajar. "And this is probably its first time bein' opened in fifteen years."

Her eyebrows shot up; she was appalled that anyone would have such an ornate, century-old copy of the book and leave it to collect dust on a shelf. "Why have it if you're never going to read it?"

"My family's been collectin' books for as long as we've been around, sweetheart."

"Writing isn't meant to be collected." She let out a sigh as she looked back to the collection of poetry that lay open in her lap, fiddling absentmindedly with the ribbon attached at the spine. He raised an eyebrow at her statement. "It's supposed to be experienced; it should make you feel something. It's a waste to just lock something like this away."

"Feels like that hit close to home." Though his voice was teasing, it was quiet, inquiring. She laughed, but the sound was hushed.

"I am a writer, Thomas." She looked back up at him with a demure smile to find that his gaze hadn't left her as they'd sat. "Or have you forgotten altogether that's why I'm here?"

He furrowed his brow, frowned, though his voice was playful. "So you mean you aren't here just to see me, sweetheart?"

She laughed again, unabashedly that time, as the mock disappointment faded from Thomas's face. His grin matched her own. "Please, I haven't even talked to Mark Zuckerberg yet. I thought it was fairly clear that I didn't come for the company."

"Not even for Dolley? Lafayette?" She shrugged innocently, and he teasingly bumped his shoulder against hers. "That's tough."

"I trust you won't rat me out."

He winked mischievously. "Don't count on it."

"Hey!" Her offense was far from sincere, with the joking lilt to his voice and the laugh close to the surface of hers, but she couldn't help her huff at how immediate his answer was. She pursed her lips, plastered on a pout. "If my secrets aren't safe with you, then brace yourself. You'd better get ready for an exposé about how Thomas Jefferson absolutely despises every one of his donors."

He chuckled. "Do I, now?"

"You are back here instead of out there with them."

"Mm, and you're obviously not exaggeratin' at all."

"I don't need to." She shrugged. "Since apparently these books don't even get read, you don't have much of an alibi for 'needin' some air.'" She leaned into the last three words in a painfully contrived southern accent, air quotes and all, and he grinned at her mocking impression of his voice.

"You think I sound like that?"

"Precisely." She nodded, her tone matter-of-fact, and he rolled his eyes despite the laugh he fought back.

"Anyway, some of these are bein' taken out every once in awhile, but since it's not my library, I've gotta take advantage of them while I can."

"'Not your library'?" she repeated quizzically, and he shrugged.

"I mean, it's the family library, but I don't come down here much." She couldn't help but notice how fond his voice was as he glanced around the room. He grinned when he turned to find her watching him. "I am still livin' on Capitol Hill, in case you forgot."

She pursed her lips, trying to conceal how her smile was growing. "And you'd sacrifice your night of schmoozing patrons and getting donations just to be back here?"

"I've schmoozed enough donors for one night. Besides--" Y/N shifted in her seat, slowly closing the book in her lap as she turned further toward him. "--James was always better at understandin' people."

"So we're just gonna pretend that slacking on the job isn't the reason you're back here?"

"Shh, c'mon. I'm makin' informed decisions as a professional." By then, he'd shifted the same way as she; they were facing one another on the couch, despite being shoulder-to-shoulder. He grinned in self-satisfaction. "I'm takin' on the responsibility of bein' the only person who reads these books."

"How truly self-sacrificing."

"I'm a man of the people, sweetheart." She chuckled lightly, leaning into the cushion on the back of the couch, and for a moment, they were both silent; she bit her lip at the heavy pause. His gaze flickered down to her lap, to the collection of poetry she'd shut but still continued to run her fingers over, tugging at the top of the spine, fiddling with the stacked corners of pages. He cocked his head to the side, and though he looked uncertain for a moment, his voice was decided. "Take it."

Her eyebrows shot up. "What?"

"The book." He nodded toward where it sat, all but ignoring her surprised stare. "Borrow it. Don't worry too much about returnin' it, just get it back to me whenever you're done with it."

Another beat passed as she sat stunned, certain she couldn't have heard him right. When he raised his eyebrows, waiting for her to answer, she exhaled softly, glancing down at the book. "Thomas, I couldn't possibly."

"Why not? It's a library; we're supposed to be loanin' 'em out, aren't we?"

His nonchalance about it had her entirely dumbstruck, and she bit her lip. "And what if something happens? What if it gets ruined?"

"I'm the only one who's gonna notice; I promise." He grinned. "No one's readin' it here, anyway."

She took a shaky breath, looking him in the eye. "Are you sure?"

His smile had softened at the awe in her expression. "Positive, sweetheart."

"Thank you, Thomas." She covered his hand that still lay on the couch with hers, squeezing it lightly.

"It's nothin'."

"Maybe not to you." She knocked her knee gently against his, and it was her expression that was playful this time, though her words were nothing but genuine. "But it means a lot to me. Really."

His eyes sparkled with affection as he threaded his fingers into hers. "I'm glad."

She bit her lip, holding his warm gaze. The room seemed to slow as she felt herself hesitantly shifting toward him. With her movement, when he saw how she drew deliberately closer, Thomas unthinkingly reached up with the hand that wasn't enclosed in hers to brush a stray lock of hair away from her face. The feeling of his calloused fingers as they grazed the side of her head sent a shiver down her spine, and when his hand didn't fall, ghosting his thumb across the expanse of her cheek, she leaned into the touch.

"Thomas." Her grip on his hand tightened in the slightest, her stare fell unabashedly to his lips. Though hesitantly, she pulled closer to him.

However, he hadn't moved. Reluctance lay thick in his gaze as he searched her expression. As she looked expectantly up at him, waiting for him to close the space between them, he just swallowed.

Finally, he spoke. "What are you lookin' for, from me?"

Her eyes widened. "What?"

"You're harder to read than you realize, sweetheart." She blinked. Was the implication not obvious? Wasn't she laying out in the plainest terms possible what she was looking for? Did he need really her to ask for it? He pursed his lips. "Whenever I think I've figured you out, somethin' changes."

"What do you mean?" she breathed. She pulled back to where she'd initially been sitting, almost hurt but certainly embarrassed as she withdrew, and his hand fell from her face. He didn't release her hand that still lay in his.

He sighed, shaking his head. "I mean the mixed signals. Wantin' me when we're alone and avoidin' me like the plague in public. Askin' me to kiss you in Detroit and then runnin' out on me. I can't just keep guessin'."

She stayed silent, unsure of what she could possibly say -- it wasn't often that she was left speechless, but this time, he was right. She'd always been of two minds with him. Rationally, she couldn't have him, not when they were from such different worlds, had such conflicting careers, but when she was alone with him, she couldn't help herself. However, she couldn't have expected him to so plainly call her on it.

"I wanted to talk to you about it at Lafayette's, but I've never been able to figure where you stood. And now this..." He trailed off, raking a hand through his hair, breaking her gaze. He huffed. "I just don't know what to make of you."

It was guilt that sunk in her chest at his words, but indeterminate regret weighed heavily on her conscience. "Thomas, I..." She couldn't go on with the response. There was nothing for her to say, not when her head was still in pieces, not when her career needed one thing but her libido demanded another.

He held her gaze another moment, shaking his head when it revealed absolutely nothing, when it couldn't tell him what he needed to hear. He took a deep breath as he stood up. Her hand that'd been holding his fell to the soft corduroy of the cushion. "Just... forget it. I shouldn't have brought it up." He started toward the hallway, and her eyes widened.

"Thomas, wait." After the initial shock of the point-blank confrontation began to subside, she scrambled to catch him as he began to leave, tucked the book under her arm and rushed out toward the hallway. When he heard her giving chase, he reluctantly turned to her with raised eyebrows.

"Y/N?" His tone was expectant, almost hopeful, but it was still disappointment that flickered in his eyes. She paused; she didn't know what to say, but she didn't want to let him leave like this, not when uncertainty hung so heavily in their atmosphere. He sighed. "Sugar, until you figure out what you want, I can't help you."

She didn't look away just yet, though. She wanted to have an answer, something, anything to tell him -- she was desperate to find some way to create some normalcy between them, to make things as easy as they always seemed to be. She had nothing to offer, though, other than, "I'm sorry."

He gave her a faded smile. "No need."

Y/N couldn't help her small frown at how gentle his voice still was, as though he was worried about hurting her, of all things. She glanced down at the leather-bound book she still held, and she pulled it out from beneath her arm.

"I suppose I should give this back, then." Her voice was soft as she looked up at him, and he shook his head lightly.

"Keep it." His gaze was kind as he pushed back on the book where she'd offered it up. "It's alright. Leave it with Lafayette when you're done."

He looked down at her expectantly, and she took a deep breath, hesitant. "Or I could return it next time I see you?"

Despite its tone of melancholy, his smile grew at how hopeful she sounded. She couldn't bear to let this feel so final. "Whenever works, sweetheart."

She swallowed, nodded, but her shoulders slumped. A moment passed in silence as she stared up at him, and though he looked inexplicably composed, even casual as he waited for her response, she couldn't help but feel defeated. "Alright, Thomas."

He nodded; she could hear him swallow in the complete silence as his laid-back facade faded, the noise undisturbed save for the soft crackling of the fireplace. He released his hold on the book."I'll... see you around, Y/N." He gave her one last, drained glance, before he turned, leaving her alone.

She didn't respond.

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

THOSE FINAL FEW minutes played on a loop in her head throughout the entirety of the next day, and the article she was writing didn't help -- every time she typed up any pieces of information about his funders, her mind regressed to his dark, quiet library, their soft banter as she learned he was sneaking off right in the middle of his own party. And with that, inevitably, came her picture-perfect memory of the heaviness of his gaze, the hurt that still lay dull in its depths. She didn't have any way to alleviate the guilt that rose from her stomach like bile.

She could only ruminate on that night for so long, though. That past Monday, when she'd asked, Mira had offered her residence in the flat above her diner. As a tenant, she'd still cover rent and utilities, but Mira had readily cut her a deal in the share of the bills she was paying -- one that made the small apartment more than affordable for her, and in exchange, her only new commitment was to closing up the diner in the evenings.

She'd spent the first half of the week moving in, and by Thursday, the space was finally livable. Angelica insisted on inviting herself and the Hamiltons over for a housewarming party that evening.

"This place is great, Y/N." Eliza smiled as Y/N emerged from her kitchen holding four glasses and a bottle of sparkling grape juice. (They'd all abstained from drinking in solidarity with Eliza.) Y/N didn't comment on how none of the furniture was different even in the slightest from when she'd lived with Angelica, that there wasn't anything new for her to have even been appreciating; she was too satisfied in having found a place at all.

"Glad you think so." She grinned as she passed around the drinks, ultimately taking a seat in the armchair beside the couch. "Moving was a bit of a pain, but I'm glad to be at my own place, now."

"Lafayette wasn't a good enough host?" Angelica interjected, a playful eyebrow raised. Y/N rolled her eyes.

"He was great, but staying with him was..." Images of Thomas walking in on her right out of the shower flashed in her mind. "Complicated."

"What do you mean, 'complicated'?" Alex asked with a wide smile, doing his best to derive some hidden meaning from her words. Y/N rolled her eyes.

"I mean I was freeloading in his expensive penthouse, Alex," she huffed, and he pursed his lips.

"It isn't freeloading if he's getting something out of it."

"And what exactly do you think he was getting out of it?" She narrowed her eyes, and he held up his hands in his own defense, shrugged innocently.

"I'm just saying!"

"Oh, don't you dare act like--"

"Enough, you two," Eliza cut them off with a tired stare. "We're here to celebrate Y/N finding her own place, not for you to bicker like children."

Though she was addressing both of them, her words were directed explicitly at Alex, her gaze burning into his. He gave a guilty simper.

"Of course not, love." He leaned over to kiss her on the cheek, and she gave him an affectionate smile despite how she was shaking her head at his antics.

"How are you feeling about living alone, then, Y/N?" Eliza changed the subject readily, more than happy to alleviate any of the tension Alex had been building in the room.

"Not that this could ever meet the standard of living with me, she means," Angelica added, and Y/N grinned, gave a timid shrug.

"Well obviously the loss of Angelica is utterly heartbreaking," she lamented with a sigh, "But I guess besides that absolutely irreplaceable loss, it's pretty good, all things considered. It's a bit of a trade-off with the late evenings I'd otherwise spend at my office, but c'est la vie."

She gave a rather stiff smile, and Angelica reached over to squeeze her knee with an empathetic frown. "I'm sorry, honey. I know it's not easy for you to put something else before your career."

"Nah, it's alright, I'm just getting a well-needed break from the excitement, not screeching to a full halt. Besides, my article from today's been getting me more than enough love." Y/N paused, her fingertips tapping on her wineglass as her gaze fell to the floor; she'd done a marvelous job pushing them down, but once again, the reminder of the article had brought the previous night's events dangerously close to the surface of her mind. She pursed her lips absentmindedly. She couldn't seem to think straight when it came to her predicament. "Actually... Can I get a bit of advice?"

Her friends all shared an inquisitive glance, before Angelica spoke. "Always. What's up?"

She let out a soft sigh, finally looking up at them. "So... it's about someone who I met through work." Alex's eyebrows shot up. "It's really silly and menial but... I just wanted someone else's take on my situation."

"Everything alright?" Eliza's voice was soft but heavy with concern. Y/N cracked a smile.

"Yeah. Yeah, of course, it's severely inconsequential." She took a deep breath as she tried to find the words for her situation that wouldn't immediately incriminate her. "There's just this person, and they're unfortunately incredibly hot, like undeniably attractive, and I'm having a really hard time not shamelessly throwing myself at them."

When she paused, Angelica furrowed her brow. To that point, her state of limbo didn't sound like much of an issue. She went on. "I also know they're into me, so it's not that I'm shooting for someone unattainable, but trying to screw them would make my life... complicated."

"Is it because you met them through your job?" Traces of suspicion leaked into Alex's tone, but Y/N was too focused on her deep-seated angst to notice. She nodded.

"Yeah. Yeah, exactly, actually." He furrowed his brow. "Like, in another context, I'd totally hit that, but given the circumstances, it's a little riskier."

"Is it one of your co-workers?" Eliza asked, glancing at Angelica, who shrugged.

"If it was, I'd hope I'd know about it." Angelica took a sip of her drink, wearing a small frown, and Y/N shook her head.

"I'm not hooking up with a coworker, don't worry. It's nothing illicit."

"So who is it?" While Alex simply sounded curious, Y/N knew him well enough to detect the suspicion buried in the question.

"I'd really rather not say."

"It'd be easier to help you if we understood the situation a little bit better."

Y/N looked to him with a sigh. "Alex."

"C'mon, why can't you tell us?" He pressed, pursing his lips. "There's no way it's that embarrassing, Y/N. What, do we know them, or something?"

When she didn't answer, just biting her lip, his eyes widened. "Do we know them?"

She scowled. "It's not important! Can you just... help me? Who it is doesn't matter."

While Alex looked more than ready to continue to interrogate her, Eliza cut him off. "So how well do you really know them? How involved are they in your life?"

Y/N looked to her with a relieved smile, grateful that someone was taking her pseudo-sob story seriously. "I haven't known him that long. We met pretty soon after I started with my current assignment at the Post." (About an hour after, specifically, but who was counting?)

"So it's a 'him'!" Alex interjected unhelpfully.

"Yes, it's a 'him,' now stay focused." Y/N gave him a tired stare.

"And how long have you been, y'know," -- Angelica shrugged -- "trying to jump his bones."

Y/N laughed lightly at that. "I am not trying to jump his bones, Ang. I'm trying to figure out whether I should jump his bones."

"Fine, whatever." Angelica waved away the technicality impatiently. "How long have you been into him for?"

Y/N pursed her lips. "I mean, there's been some level of... tension," --she cringed at her own word choice-- "since day one, but I guess it's just been the past couple weeks that it became an issue."

"The past couple weeks... ?" Alex was more thinking out loud than actually inquiring, and Y/N rolled her eyes. She could see him trying to do the calculations in his head, as though he knew everywhere she'd been at all recently.

"What d'you mean, 'became an issue'?" Angelica's eyes were shining with the question, her eyebrows raised, and Y/N laughed.

"I came into this conversation asking about whether I should sleep with someone, and you're really trying to act like I'm being all coy about it?"

"Alright, fair enough, I'll give you that," Angelica conceded, grinning. "Have you actually had a chance to sleep with him yet, though?"

She tilted her head to the side, reflecting for a moment, and the list didn't take long to build -- his office, the hotel in Detroit, Lafayette's apartment, the back room of his estate, to name a few -- and she sighed.

"Once or twice, I guess."

"And what's been holding you back?" Eliza asked gently, and Y/N gave a small smile.

"That's exactly the problem: it's my career." She shook her head lightly. "I can't justify putting how horny I am before dreams as a journalist, but I'm not sure I can have both, either."

"How exactly would the relationship hurt your career?" Angelica asked. "You're being too vague."

"First off, it’s not a relationship," Y/N corrected her, bordering on exasperated. “He’s just hot. It’s not that deep.”

"Yeah, fine. Don't avoid the question."

There was a skip. Y/N chewed her bottom lip, considering. "I mean... it wouldn't destroy my career or anything. If something went bad, though, or I ended up burning a bridge, it'd get real awkward real fast."

"How often do you see him?" Alex spoke up that time, still appearing to be fixated on dissecting every detail of the situation. His eyes were narrowed, and Y/N ignored how his question was more probing than in an effort to help.

"I dunno," she shrugged, exhaled softly. "I've seen him at the past couple of events I've covered, and I've been seeing more of him outside of work ever since Detroit."

"Ever since Detroit," he repeated, a knowing smile growing on his lips. Y/N's stomach dropped. He couldn't know who she was talking about, right? He'd have looked absolutely appalled if he suspected anything close to the truth, or so she hoped. He chuckled. "You've really been denying being into Lafayette this whole time, and now you're asking us for advice on whether you should screw him?"

Y/N's eyebrows shot up. "Hang on--"

"Oh my God, you're right," Angelica agreed, eyes wide, and Eliza cocked her head to the side, looking as though she thought the idea was more than reasonable. "The whole situation makes perfect sense."

"No, wait, I'm not--"

"First the gala, and then Detroit," Alex continued, undeterred by Y/N's pleas of innocence. "And 'seeing him more often outside of work'? You just spent a week sleeping at Laf's apartment. You'd have had more than enough opportunities to bone."

"That explains why you were so anxious to find a place!" Eliza looked fully convinced of the theory, by then, and Y/N groaned. "It would get awkward quickly if you tried to screw him and then keep living at his apartment for weeks afterward."

"You guys, I'm not fucking Lafayette."

"Not yet, anyway." Angelica grinned. "That's why you wanted advice, right?"

"And you were out with him last night!" Alex's eyes flashed victoriously. "The timing only makes perfect sense."

Y/N scowled. "Y'know what? It doesn't matter who you think it is."

"Sounds like an admission--"

"But," she cut Alex off with a pointed glare. "You have all the relevant information, and I still really need some input."

Her three friends shared a glance, all looking rather pleased. It was Eliza who finally spoke.

"Don't beat yourself up over it, Y/N." Her voice was soft, reassuring. "Any relationship, professional, platonic, or otherwise, can go wrong without sex ever being an aspect of it. You can't let the inevitable risk hold you back from the things you want."

Y/N was silent another moment; she couldn't help but feel that the advice was colored by their unfortunate theory of who was behind her sudden need for advice on her sex life.

"Besides," Angelica added, "If you're seeing him at the campaign events you cover and outside of them, the sexual tension's just gonna make it weird until you bang it out." She rolled her eyes at the crude guidance, and Angelica just shrugged at the weak glare she gave her, taking another sip of her drink.

"This sounds like suspicious logic."

"She's kinda right, Y/N," Alex agreed, nodding to Angelica. "It's awkward now, and the worst-case scenario after you two fucked would be awkwardness later on. Nothing to lose."

"I never said it was awkward now," she protested, and he raised an eyebrow.

"Is it?" He took her lack of a response as an answer in the affirmative.

She huffed at how smug he looked. "Most of this advice only applies if it's Lafayette."

"Perfect."

"Alex," she seethed, her tired glare burning into his nonchalant expression. "What about giving me some advice for the off-chance I just might not be referring to him, hm?"

Angelica shrugged. "The same doctrine follows, doesn't it? There's always a risk, and it's already awkward."

There was truth to her words. However, what Y/N hadn't and couldn't have shared was exactly how it would reflect on both her and the man in question if anyone were to find out they were sleeping together -- the Republican frontrunner screwing his most outspoken critic. She knew it'd raise eyebrows, she knew it would hurt both their careers, but was the risk real enough that it was worth placing at the crux of her decision?

Eliza was the one who eventually pulled her from her train of thought, reaching out to squeeze her arm reassuringly. "Hey. We support you no matter what decision you make, but it really seems like there isn't a downside to going for what you want here."

"Yeah?" Her voice was quiet.

"Yeah." She lifted her eyes to meet Eliza's gaze as she continued. "Now, it just comes down to you deciding whether this is something you really want."

She wasn't sure she bought into the idea of it as being as simple as that. It felt reductionist; it felt like it ignored all the variables she'd spent hours upon hours weighing in her own head.

However, if that really was the question, she knew without a doubt exactly where she stood.

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

Y/N WAS GETTING incredibly sick of leaning against the metal counter of the diner kitchen, counting down the seconds until she could actually close down for the night.

It was finally Friday, the end of her work week, and she was absolutely dying to finally reach the end of her shift. She was still waiting on a batch of brownies from the oven behind her, finishing up with washing the dishes to occupy her time, but no matter how she tried to distract herself, time only seemed to slow, taunting her. The keys to the diner were in her pocket; her fingers itched to turn the lock on the front door.

She checked her watch again. 9:56 PM.

The diner closed at 10.

She groaned as her watch didn't move any faster, glanced out the kitchen window to see that the last customer had already cleared out. She was growing tired, in part due to lack of sleep, but mostly, she was tired of her week of tearing her hair out in stress. Out the front window of the diner, she could see it still snowing; there was no way anyone was going to come through the blizzard less than five minutes before closing and demand service.

Her over timer pinged. She put down the mug she'd been drying and withdrew her tray, setting it on a cooling rack for the time being, and put the now-clean mug back on its shelf. She picked up another glass. The monotony was grating on her nerves, but she'd promised Mira she wouldn't close the diner until 10 PM sharp, so there she was.

She racked the glass. She reached for another. She dried it. She racked the glass. She reached for another.

Just as she began to wipe down the rim, though, the bell above the front door rang. Her grip on the cup tightened, frustration and disappointment shooting through her veins.

"Three minutes to closing," she called out from where she stood, trying (and failing) to keep the exasperated warning from her tone. With a sigh, she retied her apron and started toward the kitchen door.

"I know, I know." Whoever had decided to ruin her evening had the audacity to sound defensive. She furrowed her brow as she turned, beginning to push the door with her back as she finished cleaning the cup. The voice was eerily familiar. "'M just lookin' for a cup of coffee, and I'll be outta your hair."

With how preoccupied she was, though, she couldn't place where she knew it from until she saw him, looking as fatigued as she as he came in toward the counter, burrowed in his winter coat. She tried not to let her disbelief show across her face.

"Thomas?"

It wasn't until then that he saw her, either, emerging from the back with a skeptical gaze. He froze altogether; his eyebrows shot up. "Y/N. Hey. I, ah... I was expectin' Mira to be here." His voice was soft, and she looked at him expectantly for another moment, waiting, before he blinked hard, and continued. "...I can go, if you really... I mean I know you're just tryin' to close, and I don't wanna... I just, I--"

"It's fine." The words sounded at least as tired as she felt as she cut off his rambling. She reluctantly continued toward the front counter, and hesitantly, he did the same. She discarded the cup she'd been washing on a shelf along the back wall. "How do you take your coffee?"

Though she huffed internally, she tried to ignore it when she realized that she'd just washed the coffee pot not five minutes before. While she started brewing his drink, he took a seat in one of the stools across the counter from her.

"Doesn't matter," he shrugged, wary. His qualms were still written clearly in his gaze. "Whatever's easiest."

As he'd had no problem coming in three minutes before she intended to close the diner down, his sudden respect for her time made her roll her eyes. She glanced back over her shoulder as the coffee began to drip, giving him a flat look. "Thomas. It's just cream and sugar. I promise it isn't life-changing. Just tell me."

When she raised her eyebrows, he reluctantly said, "One cream, two sugars?" She nodded, bending over to pull a mug from the cabinet below. "Thanks, sweetheart."

Though he couldn't see it, she wore a small smile as she drew back to her full height. Fatigue was heavy in his quiet voice. "It's nothing."

The silence stretched on as neither of them seemed to know quite what to say. Thomas's gaze was set on Y/N as she walked behind the counter; the only sounds were the soft thud of the bag of sugar on the counter, the click as the refrigerator door fell shut, and the clink of ceramics. She pulled the pot of coffee from where it'd been brewing, and the plink of the drink against the bottom of the cup grew higher as she poured. When she reached for the sugar, she again looked over her shoulder, and she found him watching her.

"Am I allowed to ask what you're doing here at 10 PM on a Friday?"

"Technically, I got here at 9:57," he said matter-of-factly, and she cracked a smile, sliding open the silverware drawer to withdraw a spoon.

"Then what about what you're doing here at 9:57 on a Friday?" Her tone was mocking as she looked back at him, and despite the sleep in his gaze, he grinned.

"'M here for coffee, of course." He shrugged when she turned to him with the full mug, unamused -- the 'duh' at the end of the sentence was implied heavily in his tone.

As he gladly accepted the piping hot coffee from her, taking a delicate sip, wincing at the temperature, she raised an eyebrow and leaned across from him on the counter. "And you couldn't have gotten coffee anywhere else right now? Dunkin' Donuts? Your house?"

"Not this coffee."

"You mean the coffee I just brewed in a pot for, like, three minutes?" He nodded earnestly, and when she gave him a dramatically disbelieving stare, he shrugged, holding up his hands in defense.

"What? Mira roasts her own coffee. Can't find it anywhere else." He looked her up and down dubiously as though questioning why she could ever think his late-night pit stop wasn't justified. "And she won't sell me any without me comin' here every time I want it."

"So you'd have no issue busting in here right now if it was just Mira?"

"Somethin' like that."

Y/N furrowed her brow, leaning down onto her forearms. He looked nonchalant as he took another small sip of his drink despite the suspicion in her eyes. "When did you start coming here, anyway? Mira's annoyingly taken with you."

He grinned, his cocky lilt restored to his voice. "Can't help bein' such a charmer." When she scowled, rolled her eyes as she turned to put away the sugar and milk, he continued. "Three or four months. Stopped in here for a quick cup of coffee on my way outta work one night, and couldn't help stayin'."

"The coffee's that good?" she asked, cocking a disbelieving brow. He shrugged.

"And the atmosphere. Mira's a real sweetheart; she's always good to me."

"So, what, you and she are just best friends now?"

"Jealous?" His eyes flashed playfully. Y/N rolled her eyes.

"Of you or of her?" she teased.

A wide grin broke through his expression at that. "Either one."

She chuckled, shaking her head. "Hate to disappoint, but it's neither." She bit back a laugh at how hurt he looked; the pout he plastered on. "Anyway, is that why you're trying to crash the closing shift? Wanted to spend some quality time with Mira?"

He shrugged, unabashed. "More or less."

She nodded, the corners of her lips quirked up. "Sorry to disappoint."

"You could never."

Y/N had to laugh at how contrived his conviction was, at what bordered on offense in his voice even at the idea of it, and the sound made him smile. "Thanks, Thomas."

She rolled her eyes as she turned to the shelves, finishing with the cup she'd been wiping down before he'd showed up, and she unplugged the coffee pot. As she began to wipe down the back counter, he spoke. "Should I get goin' then?" When she raised a questioning eyebrow at his sudden change of tune, glanced back at him, he added, "I mean, since I missed Mira 'n' all, and I don't wanna hold you up here later than I already have, I just thought--"

"That's alright. We're out of to-go cups for the rest of your coffee, anyway." When he didn't respond, she finally turned around, wiping her hands on the rag she'd been using to clean. She wore a teasing grin. "Or are you just that anxious to get away from me, hm?"

"'Course not." His smile broadened to match hers as she rested her hands on the counter before him. "Just figured you were countin' down the seconds till you could get rid of me."

"Don't worry, I don't have the patience to count by seconds." Y/N shrugged. "I've been counting by minutes, instead."

"Aw, sweetheart, I'm hurt." He put an offended hand to his heart, drawing back from her where he sat. "Thought we were friends."

She huffed out an involuntary laugh. "Shut up and drink your coffee."

She went back to her tasks with that, shaking her head lightly, tongue in cheek to stifle her amusement. She heard him take another sip of his drink, but when the cup met the saucer, he asked, "What smells so good?"

Her eyebrows shot up as she glanced back into the kitchen. "Oh, right, almost forgot about those." She looked over her shoulder at him. "I've been making brownies, still need to cut them." While he nodded indifferently, there was a wistful look in his eyes as he sat up straighter on his stool to see into the kitchen. She folded her arms. "You want one?"

His eyebrows shot up, and his gaze snapped to where she stood. "Really?"

She shrugged, mildly amused. "Sure. Since I can't seem to get rid of you, anyway."

"That's tough!" he called after her, offended, as she exited into the kitchen, laughing lightly.

She emerged not minutes later, holding two of the brownies; they were still just slightly warm from the oven, so cutting them was no ordeal. She pursed her lips. Thomas's mouth was all but watering as she walked back toward the counter, handing him the napkin one of them was housed atop.

"Enjoy," she commented mildly, suppressed her amusement at the longing in his eyes for the dessert.

"Thanks, sweetheart." His voice was soft. She pushed herself up to sit on the back counter as she ate hers, and when she looked back up, she saw him bite into the dessert, a soft moan escaping his lips. She laughed.

"Is it that good?"

"'S incredible," he mumbled, covering his mouth as he tried to speak, before he swallowed. "Shit, Y/N."

"You're just flattering me because I'm not booting you out of here, but I'll take it anyway."

While she looked rather pleased, he frowned. "You accusin' me of bein' ingenuine?"

"Where did you ever get that idea?" she asked sarcastically, shaking her head. He scowled.

"Hurtful."

"I'm sure."

He put the brownie back on the counter, took another sip of his coffee. "How'd you end up workin' here, anyway?"

She shrugged. "I've told you about my most recent financial crisis. I needed a second source of income."

"Why here, though?" He cocked his head to the side, and she raised an eyebrow, not quite following the aim behind the question. "I just mean, I haven't seen you around here until the past week or so. Was it just 'cause they were hirin'?"

She gave a small smile. "Not quite. Mira and Orlando are my godparents."

His eyebrows shot up. "Yeah?" When she nodded, a small grin formed on his lips. "That why you're so jealous of me and Mira bondin'?"

She rolled her eyes. "Like you could ever replace me?"

He shrugged noncommittally, making Y/N scowl. "I dunno, sweetheart. She and I are gettin' pretty close."

"Get your own mother figure, Jefferson."

"Aw, c'mon now, don't be greedy." He grinned at how progressively annoyed she was beginning to look. "What? Why should you get two mother figures and I don't?" She wasn't quite following his line of reasoning as she cocked an eyebrow, and he shrugged. "Don't have a godmother, feels like fair game to me."

When she didn't answer, he creased his forehead. His voice was hesitant. "Y/N?"

Another beat passed, before she raked a hand through her hair, offering him a smile. "I guess so."

With how weary she suddenly sounded, though, he didn't leave it at that. "What is it you're not tellin' me here?"

She cracked a grin as she met his eyes, amused by how he was looking at her. "Don't look so worried. Geez, Thomas. Mira and Orlando raised me, alright? That's all." She pushed herself off the back counter to discard her napkin.

However, as Y/N walked back toward where he sat at the counter, Thomas bit his lip. Her forced nonchalance didn't seem to quell his concern. "'M I allowed to ask why?"

She shrugged, but her voice grew quiet as she leaned onto the counter. "My parents passed on when I was pretty young." She chose not to meet his eyes, swallowing as she fiddled anxiously with her watch. "Mira and Orlando took me in, so they're all I've had for a family most of my life."

"What happened?" he asked softly. One of his large hands enveloped hers on the counter, and his touch was tentative, nervous, waiting for her to brush him off. When she didn't, he squeezed her hand lightly, and she looked up at him with a sad smile.

"Cancer." He looked crestfallen; she just pursed her lips. "Dad got sick when I was around ten. He was in and out of the hospital for a few years, and my mom spent most of her time with him, getting him treatment, taking care of him, waiting at his bedside. When she wasn't with him, she was working overtime to pay his medical bills. I was alone at home almost every night, so I started going to sleep at Mira and Orlando's when I was twelve."

Y/N's chest was tight. When Thomas didn't interrupt her, just watching her, waiting patiently, she bit her lip, apprehensive to continue. When he didn't fill the growing silence, she went on. "We thought Dad made a full recovery when I was thirteen, but by my fourteenth birthday, Mom was diagnosed. And it just felt like the same thing all over again."

She swallowed hard; tears stung the corners of her eyes, but she forced a smile, blinking hard, and huffed out a laugh despite herself. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to launch into a monologue on my childhood trauma. You don't need to listen to the full story just to be polite."

"'S alright." He offered her a soft smile, and when he brushed his thumb over her knuckle, she found herself squeezing his hand in return, a silent 'thank you.' "Go on. 'M listenin'."

She hesitated another moment when she saw the worry that clouded his gaze. “You sure?” He nodded with full conviction, and though her reluctance didn’t clear, she went on. "...Right. Then, well, after that, Mom was in chemo, and about five months later, Dad had a flare-up. Hospitalized him immediately. That's when I started living with the Murillos full time."

"Mira and Orlando?" he questioned, and she nodded.

"They got me through high school. I visited my parents when I could, but life went on, and as far as I knew, they were recovering." She shrugged, but her tone grew spiteful. She rarely talked about her parents, didn't want to think of how unfair fate had been to her growing up. "My junior year, they passed on within eight months of each other."

She pressed her lips together, and Thomas didn't release her hand. "I'm so sorry," he breathed, and she gave a soft smile, finally looking back up at him.

"It's alright, really." She shrugged, but she didn't move, didn't break his gaze. "It's been more than ten years. I miss them, but I'm okay."

"You sure?"

"I've had a decade to mourn them, and even though grief doesn't ever really leave, it subsides. I'm just fine."

He nodded as she gave him a mournful smile, and alongside the empathy in his gaze, she couldn't help but notice his own sadness shining through. "I know what you mean," he said softly, and Y/N tilted her head to the side.

"Yeah?" As far as she knew, Thomas wasn't an orphan, and she'd done extensive research into his background.

He gave her a sympathetic smile. "Just... about grief never quite leavin'." She waited for him to elaborate, and it wasn't until she raised an eyebrow that he did. "I mean, it's normal. You still think about them every day? Wonder what they'd think about you if they were here now? Feel like you still owe them something, like you have to live your life as though they're around?"

She frowned. "Yeah, exactly." He nodded, and she furrowed her brow. Hesitantly, she asked in a quiet voice, "Thomas, who have you lost?"

He shrugged as he released her hand, instead taking a sip of his coffee. He seemed like he almost thought better of giving her an answer for a moment, but then he spoke. "My fiancée died when I was twenty-three."

"That's terrible." Y/N's brow had immediately knit; she rested on her hands at the edge of the counter. When Thomas saw how she was looking at him, the sadness in her eyes, he chuckled despite himself.

"Wasn't the best time of my life, if I'm honest."

"I'd imagine." His smile was warm at the dry quip as he looked down into his coffee absentmindedly. He didn't look up, never saw the concern in her eyes. "Can you tell me what happened?"

"Was a freak accident. Came outta the blue a year after we moved in together." He let out a bitter exhale, somewhere between a huff and a mirthless laugh. "She was hit by a drunk driver, and it took her life on impact. I couldn't handle it."

It was her turn to take his hand, then. He'd begun to withdraw. Vulnerability showed through his gaze, through his clenched jaw, through his antsy, almost undetectable movements. He looked up at her, when she did, and she weaved her fingers through his.

"Of course you couldn't, Thomas." She put her other hand atop where she held his. "No one would be able to. Mourning doesn't make you weak, it makes you human. It also means you were strong enough to carry on."

"I wish I had." He looked dejected, by then, almost apathetic as he reflected. When she looked at him questioningly, she could hear him swallow thickly. "I didn't carry on. I ran. Moved away before her funeral 'cause I couldn't stand to see her casket. I didn't grieve for almost three years, just came to DC and started pourin' myself into my work."

"And what's wrong with that, hm?" His eyes had dropped again, and she leaned down into his line of vision, broke his absent stare. "Hey. What's so wrong with that?"

He let out a shaky sigh. "Never honored her memory. Didn't go to her grave or talk to her family until years after she was gone."

"You were trying to cope. That's all you can do. Everyone deals with loss differently."

"But she didn't deserve that," he pressed. She creased her forehead; concern rested in her eyes.

"But what about what you deserved, Thomas?" He cocked his head to one side; his gaze was brimming with inquisition. "Don't you deserve to take care of your own needs? Do you really think she would've wanted you falling apart?"

"Sweetheart, 'm not the one who was killed."

"You don't deserve to suffer just because you're the one who lived."

"But I shoulda been there, at her funeral, at her grave." He drew in a shaky breath. "Feels like I abandoned her."

You did what you needed to do," Y/N insisted. "Wherever she is now, whatever afterlife you believe in, or don't believe in, she obviously hasn't been forgotten."

He nodded, sniffed as he pulled back. He rubbed the corner of his eye, taking a breath, and she didn't comment on it. He ran a hand through his hair as he forced his composure, restored his easygoing manner. His grin was back as though it'd never been gone. "Thank you."

"Anytime."

They shared a smile for a moment, and he pursed his lips. "Can I... ask you not to do anythin' with this?"

Her eyebrows shot up. "What d'you mean?"

"We were never married, so almost no one knows about her, other than close friends and family." He sighed. "'S not information you can find online. And I just..." He trailed off as he looked up at her, tone tentative. "I know you're a journalist 'n' all, but please, can I ask you not to take this to the press?"

While anxiety was clear in his gaze, her eyes were wide, surprised that he thought he even needed to ask. "Of course, Thomas. I would never. It's safe with me."

"Thank you." A beat passed as she just stared into his eyes; with how he was day-to-day, with what she knew of him before, she could've never guessed how much pain he carried with him. He exhaled softly, gave her a grateful smile.

His trance seemed to break a few seconds later when she reached out to lightly squeeze his hand. He shifted in his seat, glanced at the clock above the kitchen door. "Shit, sweetheart, it's almost 10:40. You've gotta be dyin' to kick me outta here."

An apologetic grin accompanied his words, but as he searched her expression for some kind of response, Y/N recognized his question for what it was -- if he'd really wanted to go, he'd have already been pulling himself up, but did she want him to stay?

She shrugged, wearing a kind smile. "I mean, until our final customer is gone, I can't technically close up." He raised an eyebrow. "So really, I'm in no position to be kicking you out."

He shook his head, amusement slowly being restored to his features. "Really, now? An hour ago, you couldn't wait to get rid of me."

"Maybe I was just a worse employee an hour ago."

He laughed. "Aw, someone's gettin' attached, huh?"

She deadpanned as she met his shining eyes. His tone was nothing but teasing. "I take it all back. Get out. Go on."

"Aw, c'mon, sugar, I'm just kiddin'," he pleaded, though he showed no traces of regret. Y/N fixed him with a tired stare.

"You know where to find the door."

"Now, really?" he pouted, brow knit, and she rolled her eyes. "What'd I do to deserve this, hm?"

She scowled, though the amusement she tried to hold back lay clearly in her soft gaze. "Do you really want an answer to that?"

He seemed to think better of it at her words, and quickly changed tacts. "What about the rest of my coffee?"

"Dumping it out. No problem." She shrugged, and he huffed, giving her a fully manufactured look of disappointment.

"Thought we were connectin', and now this is how you treat me?" She held her skeptical stare, and a grin broke through his facade. "Now, what's Mira gonna think when I tell her you kicked out her favorite customer?"

Y/N regarded him wearily, in no mood for his schtick. His eyes were gleaming; he looked up at her with warmth coloring his gaze, and ultimately, when she found no malice in his stare, no ill intent, nothing but goodwill, she huffed.

"Fine. Whatever. Finish the coffee. In the meantime, since apparently, you're shamelessly becoming a parasite, I'm gonna get myself something to eat. You gonna want anything so I can save myself the extra trip?"

He quirked an eyebrow. "Wouldn't mind another brownie."

"And now what's Mira gonna think when she realizes all of our bakery is gone tomorrow?" She folded her arms, turning his own words back on him, but he was unfazed.

"That you gave it to her favorite customer, of course."

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

AND AS THE night slowly stretched on, the pair went on like that for more than another hour, recounting their pasts to one another, each passing judgment on the terrible haircuts the other had in the 90s, reminiscing on college. Y/N was surprised to hear Thomas played the violin (she couldn't tell whether he was joking when he offered to play for her sometime); Thomas couldn't help but poke fun at her when he learned she wrote sappy poetry in high school (and in turn, she threatened again to kick him out). They always seemed to find an excuse for him to hang around just a little longer.

Eventually, midnight struck; both Y/N's and Thomas's attention was drawn to the little clock above the door that finally chimed.

They met each other's eyes for a moment, and while Y/N just waited expectantly, letting him make the call on his next move, Thomas sighed.

"I really should head out, sweetheart."

Y/N smiled softly; her teasing expression couldn't seem to mask the affection dancing in her eyes. "Finally. Can't close until you're outta here, remember? It's kinda rude that you didn't leave earlier, really."

He scoffed, despite that there was no real scorn in her gaze, and raised a brow. "Mm, and it was really rude of me to accept the coffee, and brownies, and leftovers you kept offerin' me every time I tried to leave."

"You didn't put up much of a fight, to be fair." She pursed her lips, giving him a pointed look, and he chuckled.

"Won't deny it."

She'd long since finished wiping everything down, including the dishes she'd been giving Thomas, and though she was far from pushing him out the door, she wasn't going to resist some much-needed sleep.

Thomas finally stood up from his stool, fished his wallet out of his coat pocket. "How much do I owe you?" He glanced back up from where he was leafing through bills, and Y/N shrugged, wearing a small smile.

"This one's on the house."

His eyebrows shot up. "You sure?"

"Mhm." She nodded, cracked a lopsided grin as she still leaned against the counter. "Consider it payback for the century-old book I've got stashed upstairs."

"Upstairs?" he repeated quizzically, and she nodded.

"Yeah, didn't I mention? This was the housing plan I figured out," she told him. "Mira cut me a deal in exchange for taking the late shift every night."

"Every night, huh?" he asked, mischief creeping into his expression. She raised a suspicious brow. "So you're tellin' me, if I was gonna show up at 9:58 next Friday--"

"Don't you dare!" she warned him, but when he laughed, his smile was contagious. "I'm gonna have to start closing up at 9:56 here on out."

"I can adjust." He sent her a wink before tucking his wallet back into his pocket, glancing out at the snowstorm beyond the store windows. Y/N was shivering just looking at it. He pursed his lips. "You sure you've got no to-go cups left?"

"No more coffee, Thomas," she said sternly, giving him a pointed look.

"Alright, alright! Geez," he laughed. "Guess I'll just have to show up tomorrow three minutes before openin' huh?"

She shrugged. "Be my guest; I don't work Saturday mornings."

"Noted. Shouldn’t be too hard to figure out your schedule."

"That anxious to see me again?" She cocked her head to the side, smug, and he winked.

"Always." He exhaled softly before finally turning toward the exit. "I'll see you around?"

"You know where to find me." He nodded, chuckled as he tucked his hands in his pockets, burrowing into his coat as he neared the door. "G'night, Thomas."

He cast her one final glance over his shoulder, eyes shining. "Night, sweetheart."

She shuddered at the gust of cold air that entered the diner upon his exit, finally going to lock up the front, drawing the shades before she went up to her flat. The brownies she'd made were put away, the chairs were all up; she did one final, brief sweep of the place, and hit the light.

She couldn't deny her fatigue as she reached her apartment, locking the front door behind her, but after discarding her apron into her hamper, she made the executive decision that she needed to shower before she could go to sleep. She'd been going all day long and had begun to smell like a mix of old ham, coffee, and melted chocolate -- three good things in isolation, but not quite something she’d be purchasing as a Dior fragrance anytime soon.

She emerged from the shower less than half an hour later, and though it'd woken her up just a bit, it was nice to feel clean, putting on clean pajamas, being in her clean apartment.

She was just on the inoperational side of sleepy as she walked back to her room, yawning into one of her sweater paws, checking her phone once more for the night, going through the notifications from the past few hours.

She was already burrowed halfway under her blankets when she saw the message that made her freeze. It was on her Twitter account.

@Thomas_Jefferson sent: are you still up

@Thomas_Jefferson sent: im so sorry about this

@Thomas_Jefferson sent: but my car won't start

@Thomas_Jefferson sent: im still out in your parking lot

@Thomas_Jefferson sent: think the weather broke something in the engine

@Thomas_Jefferson sent: im so sorry to ask this

@Thomas_Jefferson sent: but if you're awake, would u be willing to let me back in ?

@Thomas_Jefferson sent: just real quick i swear

@Thomas_Jefferson sent: please it's less than freezing out here

@Thomas_Jefferson sent: im so sorry about this y/n

@Thomas_Jefferson sent: really i dont mean to take advantage of your hospitality

@Thomas_Jefferson is typing...

Her eyes widened; her eyebrows shot up. She was already in bed, she was dying to finally just get some sleep, but she couldn't just leave him out in the cold knowing she was the only one around to help him out. She sighed.

@Y/N_L/N sent: jesus christ, thomas stop rambling

@Thomas_Jefferson sent: im so sorry

@Y/N_L/N sent: relax, ill come down to let you in now

She huffed as she pulled herself out of bed, bringing one blanket with her to the stairs, mildly bleary-eyed.

Once again, her phone pinged.

@Thomas_Jefferson sent: thank you

@Thomas_Jefferson sent: ill come to your door

Sure enough, when she made it down, shifted the blinds to peer through, ensure that it was actually Thomas and that she wasn't about to get abducted in her booty shorts and men's XL college sweatshirt, she saw him standing there, shivering, and her eyes widened. She rushed to unlock the front door, and Thomas didn't waste a second coming in.

"Jesus, sweetheart, I can't thank you enough." He let out a deep breath, seemingly reveling in the warmth of the room. She closed the door quickly behind him, though the wind certainly put up a fight. "'M so sorry about this. Really, if I could fix it now, I would, but I think somethin' in the motor froze while I was parked out there for a couple hours. I--"

"It's ok, Thomas," Y/N said softly, doing her best not to sound as though she was half asleep, and she pulled her blanket tighter around herself. "Really. I'd rather you not freeze to death; it'd put a bit of a damper on my career."

He grinned. "So self-centered."

She scowled. "Go back outside."

He laughed as he unbuttoned his coat, tucked his gloves in his pocket and withdrew his phone. "Did I wake you up?" He eyed her choice of attire dubiously, looking amused, and she shifted her blanket to cover her shorts.

"Nah, I was just on my phone in bed. You're fine."

"...Right." She ignored his disbelieving tone.

"How long were you out there for before you messaged me?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. He sighed.

"'Bout half an hour. 'M sorry, I couldn't take the cold any longer."

"Don't apologize, geez," she huffed. "You think I'd have rathered you stayed in your icebox of a car and said nothing?"

"I'm gonna guess by your tone that it's a no, but I gotta say, I wasn't so sure."

"Oh, shut up!" Y/N scowled, and he grinned. "Can I call someone for you? A tow truck? A mechanic?" She asked, rubbing the side of her nose, eyebrows raised, and Thomas shook his head.

"Nah, don't worry 'bout it." He seemed engrossed in whatever he was typing into his phone, staring down at it intently and hardly sparing her a glance as he furrowed his brow. "I'm gonna call myself an Uber. I'll be outta your hair in five minutes, and I'll come by to get my car in the morning. That ok?"

She nodded, hardly even processing his words. "Yeah. Yeah, fine."

She stifled another yawn as he grew increasingly frustrated with his app. Several moments passed; she saw him repeatedly pressing the same button with no increasing degree of success. It took him longer than it should've to admit defeat, letting out a sigh.

"Everything ok?"

He shook his head. "Uber isn't runnin' in this storm. Can I take you up on that tow truck?"

"Yeah, d'you want the number?"

"Please." His expression plainly revealed his increasing desperation as she pulled up the contact in her phone, rattled off the digits to him.

She spaced out gradually after taking a seat on one of the stools by the counter, absentmindedly watching him make the call. His relief was written clearly in his eyes when someone answered, and she listened to him go back and forth with the person on the other end of the line at such an ungodly hour. Whoever it was didn't seem to have any more patience than Thomas. It wasn't until he was cut off mid-sentence that his face finally fell.

"Yeah, yeah, I understand," he said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You have a good night, now."

"Bad news?" Y/N raised an eyebrow when he finally hung up the call. He looked to her with pursed lips.

"The roads are closed through downtown 'cause of a severe weather warnin'." Her eyebrows shot up, and he let out a defeated sigh. "I'm so sorry; 'm sure I have someone in the area who I can call and just walk over to. Gimme a few more minutes."

While he searched frantically through his phone, brow knit in worry, she could see the panic beginning to show through. She pursed her lips. His solution seemed flawed at best and downright suicidal at worst; the weather was brutal. "Thomas," she began, swallowing her qualms, but she didn't get a chance to go on, not in the midst of his rising anxiety

"You know of any hotels close to here, sweetheart? Even just--"

"There aren't any, Thomas," she sighed, running a hand through her hair. She knew she had to offer him residence for the night, by then, but exhaustion colored her reluctance.

"How far d'you suppose the nearest is?" He raised an eyebrow, glancing up. "'Cause I can walk to some--"

"Thomas." She looked at him tiredly. "I live upstairs."

He blinked, hesitant to draw the only clear conclusion from what she was saying, too afraid of the idea that he could've been being presumptuous. "...Okay?"

Her gaze was flat. "Just come crash at my apartment for the night. I have the space; I can't let you try to walk seven miles in the storm to some dingy B&B."

He bit his lip; he appeared anxious to accept her offer. "Listen, I don't wanna impose, sweetheart; I can--"

"You aren't imposing. Calm down." He raised an eyebrow; tentativeness still lay in his gaze, but he seemed to be realizing the futility of his situation. "I'm offering, alright?"

He paused. "You don't have to take me in just cause--"

"Thomas." She huffed, cutting him off for what she hoped was the final time. "Stop worrying about it. Seriously. If it'd really make you that uncomfortable, I guess I could bring a pillow down here for you to sleep on the floor, if that was what you really wanted, but otherwise, just come upstairs."

He raised his eyebrows, and his voice was quiet when he spoke. "You sure?"

She chuckled. "I'm sure. Now, stop making such a big deal of it. C'mon."

She nodded toward the staircase before going back to lock the front door to the diner, and she hit the lights again as he followed her up. "Thank you so much, Y/N, really, I--"

"What'd I just say about making a big deal out of it, hm?" She glanced back at him as they reached the top of the spiral staircase up to her apartment, and she unlocked the door. He gave a soft smile.

"Still, sweetheart. Thank you."

"It's not a problem," she chuckled. He came alongside her through the entrance, and she shut her front door behind him as he glanced around the flat curiously.

"What should I do with my coat?"

"Just put it on one of the hooks by the mirror. Leave your shoes wherever; it doesn't really matter." She flipped the kitchen light on as she walked in. "So, the couch is a pull-out; if you're still up when I go to sleep, the bedding and mattress pad are in the closet at the back of the hall. The bathroom is also back there, first door on your left, and you're welcome to help yourself to anything from the kitchen."

He raised an eyebrow as he shrugged off his coat, kicked off his shoes. "You got any more of those brownies up here?" he asked innocently.

Y/N paused where she stood, sending him a warning look. "That better be a joke."

"Of course, sugar." He'd begun wandering through her sitting room while she poured herself a drink. "Seriously, though, were you goin' to sleep when I messaged you? Don't wanna keep you up any later than I already have."

She shrugged. Despite her exhaustion, despite how she knew it'd have been impossible for him not to catch onto her fatigue, going to sleep didn't seem like the best of her options -- first off, she felt guilty to try and leave him alone there when he was all hopped up on caffeine, but second, and far more importantly, she didn't want to leave all her personal possessions out for him to poke through. (He'd probably go poking around, too, and she wouldn't blame him in the slightest; it wasn't like she hadn't dug through his belongings before.)

She finally answered, "Nah, not just yet. Was gonna pour myself a glass of wine, though; you want any while I'm at it?"

He hummed, considering it as she reached up for the bottle where she'd stashed it. "Wouldn't mind one."

So with that, she withdrew two glasses, pouring her cheap Cabernet Sauvignon out for the pair of them. With a sigh, she discarded her blanket on the side of the rug next to the couch, unable to carry both glasses along with it.

When she rejoined him, he stood before her bookshelf, arms crossed, leaning forward ever-so-slightly to get a better look at the titles.

"See anything you like?"

Her voice made him turn, matching her smile as he accepted the glass of wine. "I just might." His playful wink as he looked her over made her laugh. "Thanks for this, by the way."

She shrugged as he nodded to the drink she'd poured, lifting her own glass to her lips. "It's no Sassicaia, but it does the trick."

He took a sip, the corners of his lips quirking up. "Could be worse."

Though her gaze drifted to the bookshelf before him, she laughed lightly. "What high praise," she commented dryly.

"Isn't it?" Thomas grinned, glancing down at her, and she rolled her eyes. Her reaction didn't seem to deter him, though. "'M kiddin'," he reassured her, as though she'd taken any sort of offense at the statement. "Really, hope you know how grateful I am for all this."

His tone was light as he gestured to the room around them. While he seemed unfazed, Y/N couldn't help but feel absurd, as though the whole situation still could've been some strange, lucid dream.

"Ah, yes, I'm such a guardian angel," she agreed, tone dry with sarcasm. "I've provided an old mattress and an eight-dollar bottle of wine. You really struck it lucky."

He gave a cheeky grin. "The company more than makes up for it."

She scoffed, shaking her head, but she didn't suppress her growing smile. "You really owe me big, then."

"I'll find a way to pay you back."

She took another sip of her wine, and for once, the warmth blossoming in her chest wasn't just fast-acting heartburn from having cheaped out on dollar-store alcohol. She watched him another moment, waited to speak until he finally met her gaze. "Anything on my bookshelf holding your interest?"

His shrug revealed next to nothing. "No surprises here."

"Oh, because you know my taste in literature so well?" Her skepticism made him smile. Really, any resistance she provided didn't come from him being incorrect, but instead from how uneasy his discerning gaze made her; he spoke as though he could see right through her, as though he'd long since figured out what makes he tick. She couldn't help but feel exposed.

"You're easier to read than you think, sweetheart." She didn't answer, but instead raised her eyebrows, waiting for him to go on. "Keats, Austen, Plath..." He quirked a brow. "... seven different copies of The Princess Bride."

"Hey, it's a classic!" she defended, and he laughed.

"'Course it is." He took a sip of his drink, eyes shining. "It's interestin', though."

"Yeah?"

He nodded. "Rest of this apartment is almost completely bare, but this bookshelf is almost overflowin'."

She cocked her head. "Care to enlighten me on what makes that so interesting?"

"'S just predictable." He shrugged, his gaze turning to Y/N with a small smile. "Says somethin' about your priorities, huh? Nothin' you need straightened out."

His wink made her grin. "And who gave you the right to come into my home and judge my lifestyle?"

"Hey, I'm just validatin' you," he defended. "Besides, last I checked, you gave me that right by invitin' me up here."

Y/N huffed at how pleased he looked with himself, going to take a seat on her couch behind him. He raised an eyebrow as she did, and when his gaze followed her, he found himself turning, leaning against the bookshelf as she addressed him. "Don't make me regret it when you've hardly been up here for ten minutes."

"Aw, but I'm touched by how much you care, savin' me from the storm."

Y/N rolled her eyes. "I didn't want you to freeze to death, try not to let it go to your head."

"But sweetheart, you saved my life; how could I not be forever in your debt?" At that point, he was playing up his gratitude, having plastered on a full pout, wearing a wistful expression, and Y/N hoped in vain that her amusement didn't show on her face.

"Don't be so dramatic; I just saved my career." She hid her smile behind the rim of her glass.

"C'mon, do I really mean that little to you?"

"You really want me to answer that?"

He laughed, coming back around to join her on the couch. "I'm gonna let that one go, just cause I know you don't mean it."

"...Right." The couch cushions dipped beside her as he sat, and she shifted, turned to him, pulling a leg up beside her onto her seat. He raised a dubious eyebrow before taking another sip of wine.

"You really expect me to believe that?" While his voice was light, the question itself wasn't in jest. The fact that she chose to ignore her adamant attraction to him didn't make it any less obvious, apparently -- it was forever bubbling just below the surface, hanging tense in the air between them. She sighed.

"Alright, I guess you caught me. It's true, my motives aren't purely selfish. I confess." She looked him in the eye with faux solemnity. "I'm also trying to save James and Dolley from having to plan a funeral."

He only shook his head, amused. She was deflecting again, and not subtly, either. Thomas was trying to tread lightly, but she wasn't making it easy on him. "Ever the humanitarian."

"I do try." His gaze was growing empty as she held his eyes. He looked as though his mind was elsewhere. When she drank more of her wine, eyeing him, he hadn't moved a muscle, his expression was blank. "Thomas?"

He blinked hard when she waved her hand in front of him, forcing a wide smile. "Sorry, sweetheart, just spaced out a minute."

"What are you thinking about?" The question was innocent, but it made him tense. He shrugged, pausing a moment.

"Just wonderin' where you got that century-old book of Bryon poems hidden." Though she raised an eyebrow, she tried not to let her skepticism pervade her expression. He raised an eyebrow. "You clearly don't have it packed into that same old bookshelf. Lose it already?"

"Not quite yet." She elected to ignore how he was deflecting in turn. "It's at my beside. I was doing some light reading last night."

"Enjoyin' it?"

"So much." Her excitement was genuine, then, when he raised a brow; her eyes were shining. "D'you know it's been annotated by like, seven different people? It's so interesting, seeing different interpretations from the past hundred years."

His lips quirked. "And what'd you think of my notes?"

"Some of those were yours?"

He nodded. "Everything in purple."

"You have pretty handwriting." When he grinned outright, her gaze drifted to his mouth a moment. She caught herself before he could react. "Anyway, I thought you said no one had read that in almost fifteen years."

"'S cause no one had. Those annotations were all the way back in college."

She raised her eyebrows. "Now, I definitely didn't expect you to be a fan of Byron."

"Oh yeah?" He crossed one of his legs over the other, shifting to face her, and draped an arm over the back of the couch. He looked curiously at her. "Why's that?"

"Definitely didn't take you for a romantic."

"Hey, now." His offense was entirely a facade, and his smile despite it didn't help his case. "I'm hurt. I've always been a romantic."

She snorted out a disbelieving laugh. "I'm sure you have."

"I'm not kiddin'!" he defended, but her clear skepticism amused him regardless. "'M a sentimental person."

"Could've fooled me."

"And why's that?"

"I dunno." She shrugged, taking another sip of her drink as she glanced at him. While his tone was lighthearted, his gaze was inquisitive, searching -- he didn't respond, letting the silence stretch on, and she felt as though she owed him an answer. "You're just so... laid-back and carefree. You're all confident, and brash, and have a flair for the dramatics. I guess I wouldn't have pegged you as a softie."

"I like to think I'm pretty empathetic." His voice was soft. "I've devoted my life to public service, to makin' people's better. You've gotta be compassionate to put the time and money into runnin' for president, right?"

"Or you have to be power-hungry," she contended, and though her tone was light, he creased his forehead.

"'S that really what you think of me?"

With how he was looking at her, bordering on hurt, Y/N could feel guilt building at the back of her throat. She'd come into her current job with so many preconceptions about him that she couldn't have known whether were true, but she hadn't hesitated in entertaining the ideas regardless. "Not anymore." She was sure she looked as embarrassed as she felt. "But I may have made some unfair assumptions, once upon a time."

He gave her a mild grin. "Don't sweat it; it goes both ways."

"Excuse me?" She sat up straighter, raising an eyebrow, and he only seemed amused as he regarded her.

"Oh, you're actin' all offended, now?"

"I am offended."

"You shouldn't be." She squinted suspiciously at him as he continued. "Never thought you were a bad person, or anythin', just didn't expect all this from you." With his words, he gestured to the room around him, and she was slow to reply.

"What d'you mean?"

"Lettin' me stay so late in your diner, takin' me in with the storm out there..." He trailed off, shrugging. "You're bein' more generous than you're givin' yourself credit for."

"To be fair, you would've been able to get home without a problem if I'd just kicked you out earlier."

"But you didn't." How perceptive he'd suddenly become had her shifting in her seat. "Feel like I owe you for it."

She smiled bashfully, sipping her wine. With how he was looking at her, heat had begun to rise in her cheeks. "Really, Thomas, it's not a big deal. It's the least I can do."

"It means a lot, though. Really. Didn't have to do any of this for me." His gaze roamed her apartment thoughtlessly, and he wore a small smile. Her eyes were fixed firmly on him all the while, drinking in his expression, the smallest details of his face, from the little patch below his ear he'd missed while shaving, to the stray curl that always seemed to fall across his forehead. "Thank you, Y/N."

What happened next caught them both off guard, despite how slow, gradual, even how nervous it was.

Her action was unexpected, but not sudden, and for once, Y/N didn't think about it. She just acted. He'd turned back to her in surprise when her fingertips grazed his stubble, no longer caught up in eyeing the room around them, and before he said anything, she was leaning in, kissing him.

The action wasn't rushed, and at first, it was chaste -- he was breathless, kissing her back without thinking twice, and his hand rose to cup her cheek, following her movements.

It took him a minute to pull away, and when he did, Y/N backed off immediately, wide-eyed. "Sweetheart--"

Her stomach dropped. Rejection hadn't been an outcome she'd considered, not after how he'd been coming onto her time and time again, not after the other night, with how frankly he'd asked her what she was looking for from him. "Shit, Thomas, 'm sorry." Her apology was breathless. "I... I didn't mean to make you--"

But he didn't let her go on, his hand moving from her cheek to the nape of her neck, stopping her from retreating to the opposite side of the couch as she lay her glass of wine on the coffee table. "Is this what you want?"

His question made her freeze. He wasn't shooting her down; his eyes searched hers, and she swallowed roughly. "Yes," she breathed. Another beat passed. She bit her lip, waiting for him to react, waiting to see what he'd say or do, but he didn't move.

"Are you sure?" he asked, his voice quiet but firm. "'Cause if you're gonna run out, rebuke me again, I can't--"

"I'm sure." She didn't waste another moment in pulling him back down to her, pushing herself across the couch, closer to him, and as her lips again met his, he discarded his glass, instead tugging her onto him by the waist.

She pulled him close that time, abandoning her hesitance. He didn't want to stop her, either -- not when her arms snaked up around his neck, not when she swung one of her legs over his, straddling his lap, not when she knit a hand into the curls at the base of his neck, and his self-control was fleeting as he bit down on her bottom lip, making her moan. But despite how she was kissing him, despite the sheer desire in her actions, his concern hadn't subsided.

When he held her face just inches from his own, thumb tracing patterns into the top of her hip, her stare was saturated with surprise. "Y/N, really," he started, worried. She raised her eyebrows. "I've gotta know--"

"I've thought this through," she cut him off firmly, rolling her hips teasingly down against his, and the action made him groan. "I want this. I want you. I'm not going to regret this; I'm not going to run off. If you want me to stop, tell me, tell me now, please, but I swear, Thomas. I know what I want." She'd withdrawn a hand from where it hung at his upper back, instead running it down to the top of his chest, her fingernails ghosting over his shoulder, across his collarbone. "Do you?"

There was a skip as he paused, but when he found no reservations in her gaze, only reckless abandon and want, his mind was made up.

"Beyond a doubt." His words were hardly a whisper, lost quickly in both of their rising thoughts, in the growing cacophony of pleasure as her lips returned to his without hesitation, lost in the rising sighs and low moans as she pressed up against him, and finally, finally, they both stopped thinking and overthinking, doubting and hesitating.

The rest of the world seemed to fall away as Y/N tugged on the tie Thomas still wore, as he pulled her closer by her waistband She was breathing heavily when his lips found her neck, shivering when his teeth scraped over the sensitive skin, when his fingertips dug into her hips. It was easy for her to lose herself in him, after weeks of waiting and wanting and wishing, and easier still when she pulled on his soft curls, making him groan against her skin, when his grip on her tightened as she ground her hips down against his.

She could feel him shudder underneath her when his hips jerked, when he pulled her down against him, when she let out a soft whine. By that point, his tie was sloppily loosened, hanging crooked around his neck, and Y/N had managed to undo the first few buttons of his shirt despite how preoccupied she'd quickly become.

She had no caution left to cling to. She'd shaken him off time and time again; she'd rebuffed his unshakeable audacity, but it took her until he backed off to realize what it was she was really looking for.

Something about it all scared her, made her heart race and her head spin, but as his hands traveled further south, her pulse spiked, and she couldn't bring herself to mind it. He asked where her bedroom was; her answer was just a murmur between hot, fervent kisses as he returned to her mouth.

She knew she wouldn't regret this all come morning. She wouldn't regret it two days later, nor two weeks later, the risk of it all only compounding upon the excitement. With his skin against hers, with him picking her up by the thighs, making her yelp as she wrapped her arms and legs around him, she was struggling to remember that there was any big picture to it. There would always be her job. There would always be the election. There would always be their nosy mutual friends and a bloodthirsty political landscape. But just then, in her low-budget apartment with her secondhand furniture, as the blizzard raged on within six inches of her warm, comfortable living room, as all of Washington D.C. was buried under a cloak of snow, as frozen in space as it felt in time, the two of them were all there was.

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uwuowotf2waslife · 5 years ago

Note

The mercs with an s/o who is on the autism spectrum? If you want to

as a person with diagnosed autism( ASD that later changed to SCD but concidering my countrys lack of proper diagnosis and non-existant support when i was growing up, im not sure,it might was a result of chronic abuse or i was a really weird kid) its my duty to answer this ask,

always know that you are perfect with all your imperfections

just because maybe your brain is wired different it doest make you less of a person

you are poetry

Scout

-my boy has adhd ( probably undiagnosed until he was examined by Medic) so you two might have a little problem at the begining.

-he might be the closest to a jack russel in human form, but he cares about you and is willing to sit down and do his research so he can understand you and your struggles. He isn’t a hypocrite, he is a hyperenergetic bundle of daddy issues and is sure he will annoy you from time to time, he annoys pretty much everyone except his mom on rare occasion, he is a hanfull and he knows that years now. But he also has come to understand that everyone has struggles and little things that make them more special than others.

-if you have problems with communication , he’ll be your mouth .Problems with sensory overstimulation? he will escort you to the safest place and hug you tighter than he thought hes capable of. People mistreating or bullying/insult you? the bat is in his hands and his ready to hit home runs on their balls. You might not be the perfect couple, you will struggle like every couple and have fights and arguments, but he is ready to phase every difficulty that comes on your way. He loves you and he is here for the ride even if its bumpy.

Soldier

-( I and i think a big part of the community claim he is actually autistic) Probably the most tricky of the mercs, since at one side he might completely relate/understand you and the relationship go smoother than soft butter on bread, or he might have problems communicating the relationship problems with you.

-as all relationships you two must sit down and communicate your problems. Believe me he isn’t mentally retarded ( a horrible misconsumption ive seen being thrown around), yes he is stubborn and can’t read social cues to save his life, but he is a loyal beefcake with a golden heart hardened by a lifitime of war. He knows he isn’t the perfect man, he has nightmares and panic attacks on the regualr after so much trauma in his life. But he also knows that if he S/O needs him, it doesnt matter if its a small or big thing, he is ready to go through hell and back to make them happier or more comfortable

-you can’t stand loud noises? copy that privet, he will stop yelling/ screaming around you. Certain things make you uncomfortable/ anxious? hes at your side and he is ready to snap necks...you have his heart and his adoration, he ain’t a coward or a pansy, you’ll win over any challenge that comes your way like the absolute unit you are and he is there to assist

Pyro

-fresh from the start they can recognise you have autism, i lowkey think they might be ( actually in young adults asd and mild schizophrenia can be mixed and confused by not good qualified doctors, its been years since i read that study so correct me if im wrong) or have really good gut insticts. Either way, they know you are struggling and trie in subtle ways to help you

-did an important call without stuttering? hug and smooch on the crown of your head, completed all your work/homework? they will cover you in stickers and cuddle you in their pillowfort, stood up for yourself? my girl theyll make a huge cupcake tray and youll two will eat while watching sappy disney films

- you won’t struggle as much, i see them as more easy going than other members of the team. But they also have big issues that may create problems in the relationship that you both need to work on. They are more than a handfull and they aren’t unaware of it, they spended years locked inside their own head doing god-knows how vile and harming things to their mentality and body, they can’t believe they are alive and they wake up every day next to the most beautifull human being they have come across their lif, ( Y/n). You will bond slow but strong , you are their sunshine and theyll make sure their sunshine shines no matter what they have to do

Engie

( lowkey i think is canon he has some form of high-functioning autism, just hide its behind the southern warm and soft hospitality)

- when you confess, he hugs you ( a big thing coming from him since i dont consider him a touchy fella) and returns the confession that he is too. He knows each person experiences different so he won’t press you for explanations or description of what you have is excactly. He just assures whatever happens, he is there to help you with

- doesn’t really change how he views you, but he takes the initiative for things like talking to strangers, calling to order or things that you struggle with, but he doesnt baby you. You are an adult person and will be treated as that, even if sometimes he feels he needs to “help” or “protect” you

-one of the most easy going of the mercs, but his work is his priority so there will be long arguments about it. He understands your frustation, but he is a workaholic years now before you came in his life and can’t bring himself to change that. His work is his routine, the only comfort he knows and the only place that accepted him for who he is. But, he will be more elastic and have more breaks/ days off even if it means the project will be finished an hour or two later, unless it has an urgent deadline. He knows he can be very cold and emotionless, he is an engineer, not a spy for that reason. Furthermore he has his own times when he is stubborns or has an anger explosion because something broke/didnt meet his expectations or got way too invested into something that turned to be worthless/ uselless so he isn’t the one to judge if you are in a sour mood or you have your own “ explosion”. After all said and done, late at night when you are both alonein his workshop he will just cradle you in his arms and make a silence promise to always be there for you through thin and thick ( as we say to go through 40 waves and 40 more ) because you are something that no machine or creation can emulate or recreate, you are ( Y/N) and you are the love of his life.

Demo

-arguably one of the three more knowledgable of the mercs in the topic of mental health department. Being raised in an orphanage i doubt he didnt had at least a dozen other kids who had from high to moderate to severe autism ( during the 20th century it wasnt uncommon for people with autism to be thought less human or that the family of said people couldn’t provide for them in severe cases so theyd be dropped on orphanages and psychiatric hospitals)., so he has some first hand experiene with what autism is. It isn’t something for him in all honesty, after so much trauma and hardship in his life he is at peace that peopleare different and their brains are rarely wired the same

-he also know he isn’t ideal, he acts really stupid when he is drunk and his alcohol consumption alone is a very big problem for any relationship he ever had in his life and i doubt he is the image of psychological perfection, but he also knows that if you are willing to keep him around you have seen him wasted out of his mind, he is more than willing to put up with anyof your quirks or difficulties.

-you want to stim? go ahead he’ll leave the room/the house so you can stim to your hearts content, you want to stay? sure thing lass, hell sit in a corner and drink a bit while you have your thing. Work/ school/ home life is stress full and you are in the verge of a breakdown? he has already wrapped you like a burrito and he is holding you while you cry/vent, you dont want to be touched at that moment? hell take you to an open field and you can blow things up to get all those feelings out of you. He isn’t ideal, he is at peace with that, but now that you appeared in his life, you became the apple of his eye. He’ll cherish you and protect you both as body but as a mind and a soul for whatever shit life throws at you, he was never one to back down a challenge.

Heavy

-due to the language barrier and his nature as a quiet man it’ll take him some time. If you bring it up he’ll simply nod and run to Medic or Spy for translation. He isn’t shy to do a doctors worth of research so he knows what he has to deal with, he knows his english is broken and would prefer to have a migraine over the amount of books hes read than make you feel uncomfortable. Probably will ask advice from Medic ( the most qualified on the team) untill hes satisfied he knows enough.

-probably the sanest of the mercs, but he isn’t perfection. He had to endure famine and death from very early in his life, always be the stone his family anchored on and most people on his life, so he has his own big problems. At one side he is used to so many things, he is somewhat indiferent. You aren’t harming anyone nor its life threatening, so it doesnt really change what he feels about you. All people have flaws, noones perfect and if they do think they are perfect, they are very, very wrong. I won’t lie to you, some times hell get confuse with your behavior or will get tired of being the “ anchor” of the relationship, but he will never admit it. He survived the Gulags and years in Siberia, this is nothing but a walk in the park for him. He isn’t a fuckboy, he doesn’t want you just for some fuck and then hell forget you exist, he is much more sentimental than he appears to be. He beginned this with you because he sees you more than a body, he sees you as someone he wants to spend the rest of his life with even if itll be a challenge, he was never a quiter and he wont be now.

- don’t expect much communication help from him, unless its in russian. But whenever you feel the tiniest bit of self-doubt or anxiety his arms are open to embrace and warm you with his love. He might was raised among anarchy and war, but he is a gentle giant with a heart bigger than Russia herself. He knows you two will struggle especially on the communication domain but he is willing to do what it takes to make your life easier/ less challenging. He came here to stay, only if you allow him

Medic

-Arguably the most medically qualified of the mercs, but considering the era of his studies hes at least rusty on modern terminology and general understanding of what autism is. Nontheless his a doctor ( with or without a medical license) and i doubt he ever followed the rules of ethical and unethical medicine. He is a healer primeraly and he can’t claim to be the most mentaly stable of the team.

-he might be many things, he knows hes at least crazy by normal standards and has made extremely questionable choices in his life,but he cares for the people he is close to, lovers and collagues alike. He won’t try to ‘change’or ‘medicate’ you; unless you specifically ask him for, like yes he has defied any sort of ethical medicine and has played god many times in his life, but he knows that if he changes you, you won’t be ‘you’. You will be you still, but nothing more than a lobotomized version of yourself and he fears that. Let’s be real, he probably choosed you because you are a smart individual ( that includes both street and book smarts alike) so if he “killed” your smart he would essentially kill you and this doesnt sit well with him.

-feeling down? no worries, the doctor is here ( afterhe finis hes re-connecting snipers new kidneys). Stressed? Archimedes will be your own personal cheerleader and the rest of the flock won’t let you all stressed and alone while Medic is working. In the simplest of works,he wants you to know that he might be a madman on the field and the medbay, but he is also your lover and that means he cares about you. He doesnt care if act a lil strange or you have some special things about you, guess what? he doesnt cares. H e never cared and he will never cared, all the greatest minds had something special about them and you are no exception. He chosed to have a relationship with you and you accepted the love request of a surgery-happy maniac , im sure he is beyond equiped to handle you in all aspects. He might not be the most touchy but he will make his point across that you are someone who means wayy to much for him to change

Sniper

- ( i highly think he is autistic, just the way hes potrayed in most fanfics he acts lowkey autistic, mostly in the communication and sociable part) growing up in the middle of nowhere probably he has never even heard ‘autism’ as a word , so his very lost. (another headcanon of mine is that he is also iliterate) You need to explain to him what autism is and how it affects your life. He has a non-pleasant expression on his face, because he realises most things that you say what that “autism”is and the thing it has are things he actually has and felt throughout his life. He looks like hes having a religious expierience and when you are done he only nods and hugs you almost mechanically.

-he will need some time, not because ofyou, but because of him. You might think he is breaking up with, butin reality he just needs some time alone to sit down and think about all the things you said. Its one of the biggest revalations he has experienced on his life and it has hit him like a wall of bricks.

- after a few days he will return to the base and will ask you to meet with him on the most secluded of his snipers nest. While you prepare for the upcoming breakup, he actually showers and wears somet hing nice for the first time in a while. He goes out of his way to make the sniper nest a bit more “ comfortable” even bribe spy into giving him one of his fancy wines. Once you go up the nest and you two meet, he is the most clingy he has ever been and almost drinks the whole bottle out of pure anxiety. Once his tipsy enough he actually confesses that from the things you said, he found out hes also autistic. Que him basically clinging you like a broken koala baby while half-sobbing to expell all the tension he has inside him. Please pet his hair and rub his back,he will melt and quit his rugged manly man persona for that moment. He needs you there, he needs your soft touch to ground him while his whole life comes crushing down and a weight he never imagined is being lifted from his shoulders.After that, its quaranteed you two won’t be seperated ever again, he needs you to ease all this pain he has gathered from his troubled life and he will provide you the world and the stars.

Spy

- he knows what autism is( as a spy he should know about human psychology/mental disorders just to know how to impersonate any person with or without issues) and he is a very observant man. He has above average attention span and knows how to read body language so he has figured you are autistic a long time ago. He is just waiting for you to open up about it or confess it, but he also knows the social stigma around autism so he keeps his mouth shut because he really doesn’t want you to feel uncomfortable or ‘naked’ in front of him

- i heavily headcanon him to be at least depressed/having an ugly anxiety disorder or even a dissosiative disorder considering a big part of his life is carefully crafted theater , so he can’t say he is any more better than you.Furthermore he never really cared about what society thinks about mental ilnesses, whos here to judge who sane and not? he has seen so much shady things behind closed doors of “ pure” people he has lost all respect for what society thinks its normal and what is weird or not acceptable. Yes he follows the rules of “good” society but thats more of a habit than a need. Plus have you seen what the good ol’ society behind close doors? yap youll need a good bible study and some church to wash away the sins.

-eventually when you confess to him,he doesn’t really act. He knows its a heavyemotinal moment for you but he can’t open up for his own problems, at least now. But he will embrace you for now and say all the sweet words you need to hear...untill the same time he gets drunker than he can and confesses to you in french all his psychological troubles while he cries on your chest. He won’t let go unless he wants to vomit and he will cling to you for dear life while he experiences one of the ugliest meltdowns he has experienced in the last decade. Probably will wake up with a monster of a hangover, but once he feels you wrapped around him and feel your heartbeat on the bones of his back something will meltin him. He will gather whatever strenght he has, turn around, give you one of the most genuine smiles he has ever given in his entire life and peck your lips bore he starts whining and requiesting you to either kill him or fetch medic. Perhaps one day hell say all the things he wants to say in you mother tongoue but for now, just know he will cherish you and love you like the most exquisite poetry that has graced his life

#tf2 #tf2 imagines #tf2 facts #tf2 self insert #tf2 spy #tf2 scout #tf2 soldier #tf2 pyro #tf2 medic #tf2 heavy #tf2 sniper #tf2 engie #tf2 demo #so #all #long post #autism #relationships dynamic #mentall health

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nadiineross · 5 years ago

Note

Print: “How do you 'accidentally' achieve immortality?"

note: abt ur prompts.. i ….actually was planning a fic abt immortality but i dont think itll be done for ages so i slammed this one out. i also made a few posts abt superhero aus btw :’). i watched hercules for the first time in like a decade bc of ur other prompt and wow…. hades is still so funny DSJFHSKH ok anyway i prolly wont write a lot in the coming month bc semesters starting next week BUT i can type out some headcanons for prompts u give me, if u guys r interested in that?

i didnt proofread this and i dont want to because i am Lazy anyway thank u sm for continuing to talk to me abt chlodine yrs down the road. pls feel free to send in ur chlodine headcanons or if u jus wanna scream abt them

Nadine’s been alive for a long time, and so nothing really surprises her anymore. But, then again, Chloe is always her exception.

They first meet in India, only a passing thing. Being alive for so long, well, it gets boring. Nadine, also, could never really handle being purposeless. She enjoys having goals and working hard to achieve them, and she definitely enjoys the brief period, afterwards, where she relishes in those achievements.

It was easier, before, to find purpose: fighting. There were a lot of wars and Nadine was good at it. She was, and is, by all accounts, remarkable. However, to preserve her anonymity, she allows herself to dissolve into the unknowns of history.

She has had many names, most of which she has since forgotten. But, her first, she will not forget: Nadine. It is that name she gives to Chloe, and it is the one Chloe knows her by.

At that time, in India, she had nothing to do. It seemed the age of fighting as she knew it was coming to a close, and she grew bored.

Of course, this wasn’t a new experience; Nadine can hardly find anything she has not experienced. Usually, she travelled. She’s been to most places, but they were always changing, and this was something she appreciated on a deep level.

India, she has not visited in almost four decades.

On her first night, she eats a feast on her own. The restaurant owners were impressed, to say the least.

It is routine, her travels. During the day, she sees the sights, explores the places that have changed the most and visits those that she loved the last time she was here. When nightfalls, again, she feasts. Sometimes, when she isn’t too tired, she’ll take someone to bed.

This, she does rarely. It is, after all, hard to find a woman interested in other women in this world. Harder, even, to find one who isn’t interested in a long term investment, since Nadine is not very interested in the part where she outlives everyone. It isn’t a pressing issue, though. She has needs, sure, but she is patient, and sex did not fall very high on her list of priorities.

Besides, she understands. The consequences of being a woman like her are grave and not a lot of people would want to risk their lives for a fling.

Chloe is only her second in India.

There is a river, a half day’s walk away from where she’s staying. It is her second to last night in India, and there aren’t a lot of things she is itching to see, so she decides to make the walk.

By the time she gets there, the sun is hanging low in the sky, not yet set, but almost. She’s sweating from the heat and the oppressive humidity characteristic of the Indian climate. So, naturally, she unbuttons the first few buttons of her shirt and leans over the edge to splash water over her face.

It is a relief on her skin, and she looks up to gasp out a breath when she sees her. Chloe, shameless creature that she is, watches her.

Nadine doesn’t know how she didn’t notice the woman lounging in the water before now. Bewildered, Nadine blinks at her and feels very bare, suddenly hyper-aware of the droplets running down her face and into her shirt.

“Hello,” Nadine finally says. She is good with languages—there isn’t a lot to do when you’ve been alive for a few centuries.

“Hey.” She swims over until Nadine can see her smirk with distinct clarity, until her bare shoulders come up, but does not go farther up the shore. “Not from around here?”

Nadine raises an eyebrow. Clearly not. “No,” she says.

“Huh. Chloe, nice to meet you,” says she, extending a wet hand from the water. Nadine has to slosh into the water to take it and give it a firm, short up-down shake.

It’s a strange name, given the context, and this whole thing takes her off guard. She stupidly blurts out: “Nadine.”

Chloe’s grin becomes wider. She doesn’t try to hide the way she eyes Nadine’s open shirt. Nadine isn’t dense, either, so she knows when there is an opportunity she could take, is she wanted.

She’s not sure yet.

“And you? Are you from around here?”

Humming noncommittally, Chloe stands, abruptly, to her full height and walks around Nadine to the shore. She is naked, and Nadine has to swallow a lump in her throat.

Nadine has seen a lot of women, and she can say with certainty that Chloe is one of the most beautiful she has seen. She tries not to stare and succeeds, given that she has excellent self-control. Though she will admit, Chloe certainly tested her in that moment.

“Where are you from?” Chloe asks as she picks up a shirt strewn across a rock and slips into it. Now, Nadine notices the pair of pants and shoes hidden behind the rock.

Nadine smiles, wryly, aware that she is giving more information than she is receiving. “Africa.”

Chloe doesn’t seem to take offence at her brusqueness. Just laughs. “Ah.” Then, because Chloe is so brave and so young, barely thirty by the looks of it, she stoops and holds up her pants, and asks, “Should I bother with these or are we going to address… what should I call it? The tension?”

Oh, how they address it.

After, as Chloe disappears into the trees on the other side of the river, Nadine realizes that she is entirely, profoundly, surprised.

Nadine has met many bold women; she can be one herself when she wants to be. Chloe, she never really forgets, but she is filed away into a tiny corner of her mind, fading away until Nadine never really thinks about it unless she is alone at a river and has run out of things to think about.

Besides, World War II has started, and she’s occupied with killing those Nazi bastards. She doesn’t enlist in any army—can’t exactly fly under the radar there—but she has connections and resources, and works perfectly well alone.

In the face of all this, Chloe is not forgotten, but she is not remembered.

And Nadine’s life goes on, and on, and on, as it is wont to do.

Nadine doesn’t know why she never dies. It just happened or, more precisely, it just never happened.

Her parents did. She never really knew her father, as her mother raised her, but she does know he died. Her mother, she held as she passed.

Years later, people began to talk. Nadine turned thirty, and that was it.

She doesn’t know if she can die at all, but she isn’t interested in testing her theories. She has avoided fatal wounds for so long; she won’t stop now.

Sure, she has suffered and has felt like she might die, but she doesn’t think she wants to die. There are so many things she wants to know.

So, she decided, a century into her life, that she would not question it. She isn’t at all old enough to have been there for the Trojan War, but she does know not to look a gift horse in the mouth.

It is the 2000s and Nadine begins to feel a little existential. She will not fight in wars now, given the stakes and, especially, given her moral compass. Well, at least not official ones. She has accepted that she is a little bit of a vigilante, and she’s focusing on bettering her own home.

Always levelheaded, she never bites off more than she can chew. She only takes to the streets every few weeks. In the meantime, she decides to get into academia.

If she’s so keen on learning, why wouldn’t she go to school? Human achievement is impressive!

She has one PhD already and is working on her second. She has just started, meeting her advisor for only the third time, when she sees a flash of red in the hall, heading towards the History department.

It’s a woman with jet black hair, ponytail swinging. Before Nadine can think to squint, she’s rounded the corner and is gone.

Blinking, Nadine turns away and heads to the courtyard. She likes to sit on the grass and do her research there. Small pleasures.

It’s been an hour, maybe two, when a shadow casts over. Strangely, she feels her heart start to beat faster before she even looks up.

“Hello,” she says, throwing an arm over her forehead to shade herself from the afternoon sun.

Chloe in the flesh. She puts on the same old smirk and looks down at Nadine with her hands on her hips. “Hey, you.”

Nadine raises an eyebrow as she sits down and makes herself at home on Nadine’s picnic blanket, among her sea of books.

“Well, look at you.” Chloe keeps on grinning, shark-like. “You haven’t aged a day.”

“You’re too kind,” Nadine says, thinly. “And neither have you, by the looks of it.”

Dismissively, Chloe waves a hand and tosses her ponytail over her shoulder. “No need to flatter me, you’ve already gotten into my pants.”

“I haven’t forgotten.” Much, at least, she thinks. Then, wonders if, perhaps, she is dreaming.

“That’s nice.” Chloe leans closer, growing serious but retaining her persistent underlying curiosity. “Oh, Nadine, what are you?”

Nadine snorts. “Always so bold.”

She shrugs. “Places to be, things to know, people to do. I’m a busy girl.”

Like a shark, Nadine thinks again. She keeps her mouth shut for a few moments, just watching Chloe watching her. As Nadine recalls her memories of Chloe, she notes that Chloe mostly hasn’t changed. Finally, she leans back on an arm and says, “Looks to me like you have all the time in the world.”

“Hm.” Chloe lifts a hand, maybe to touch her arm, maybe to push her hair out of her face, maybe to cup her cheek. Nadine will never know. She tenses, instinctively swaying back a little. Chloe’s hand drops down, but she keeps on smiling. “You’re immortal, then. All the time in the world.”

Nadine doesn’t say anything, just waits for Chloe to draw her conclusions.

“How long have you… been like this?”

Nadine pretends to think. “About a century or five now. You?”

“Well, I was thirty-four when I met you,” Chloe wonders aloud, tilting her head as she does the math. At this, Nadine frowns and, upon seeing this, Chloe huffs a laugh. “Yes, actually thirty-four.”

That makes her roughly two centuries old. Nadine doesn’t know how to feel about this, about everything, about Chloe. She had been, to her knowledge, alone in this for three centuries. Never once had she met someone else like this, and she didn’t want to, she doesn’t think. She had always been slow to trust.

She never tried to think about this too hard; she doesn’t know how it works—is she contagious? But none of the other women turned immortal after going to bed with her. Still, she worries at her lip and examines Chloe.

“How?”

“How am I like this?”

She nods.

Chloe raises an eyebrow. “Quid pro quo.”

Nadine rolls her eyes. “I don’t know. I just never died.” She sighs, harshly, and closes the book in her lap with a full clap. “I don’t know.”

“That’s alright,” Chloe says, gently. This time, when she reaches out, to touch her wrist, Nadine lets her. Chloe looks down at the point of contact, seemingly charmed. Then, after a beat, meets Nadine’s eyes again and smiles. “Well, I don’t know how exactly it worked, but this was an accident.”

“…what?” Nadine scoffs. “How do you ‘accidentally’ achieve immortality?”

Chloe looks sheepish now. “I went into an ancient temple and mucked around, and maybe I broke something, and… well, here I am.”

Suddenly, struck by the urge to lie down for a decade or at least go somewhere more private for this discussion, Nadine shoves her books into her bag and stands. Chloe, startled, mirrors her movements and then stills as Nadine rolls up the blanket and easily hefts everything up.

“Uh, what’s going on?”

Nadine picks up her baseball cap and puts it on, and then sweeps an arm towards the paved path. “We’re going to my apartment.”

A little dumbly, Chloe follows along. “Who’s bold now?”

Nadine gives her a look, and Chloe just smiles, looking away with a shrug. They make the journey in silence, Nadine’s is a stubborn one, and Chloe’s obliging. When they reach the apartment, Nadine lets her in first and gestures to the couch. It’s not a very big apartment, but it’s comfortable and in an alright neighbourhood.

After Nadine puts her bag away, she comes back to see Chloe leaning over the back of the couch to look out her window. She twists back around as Nadine sits.

“You alright?”

Nadine looks up at her, eyes hooded. “Ja.”

Chloe smiles, a kind one. She has such an expressive face. Nadine wants to run her hands over the dips and curves of it. Wants to feel a little more grounded in reality—is she really not dreaming?

The urge to just ask disappears in a moment as Nadine comes back to herself, feeling safer on her own turf.

“So, this is where you’re from.” It’s not a question, but Nadine nods anyway.

“Originally. I don’t remember exactly where but I grew up farther inland and then moved to the coast later before my mother passed.” Nadine rubs a hand at her temple. Tired. “They both died. I’m the only— I was the only one. For the longest time, I was the only one.”

Chloe shifts, an unidentifiable emotion drifting across her face. “Nadine.”

She sighs and says, “I don’t want your pity.”

“You don’t have it,” she says, not ungently. “It’s been a long time.”

For once, Nadine allows herself to give in. She leans over until she falls, turning her face to press her nose into the hard muscle of Chloe’s tensed thigh, just above the knee. She hugs her arms to her chest and counts her breaths. Chloe sighs, too, and puts her hand in Nadine’s hair.

Nadine’s back is to Chloe.

It’s been a long time.

So, this is how it happened.

She was abandoned by her mother and raised by a father who wanted a son. He loved her, regardless. He just taught her the ways of his trade.

Her childhood was spent scaling the shelves of libraries as he did his research and sitting uncomfortably still as he spoke to “experts” in their homes. When she was old enough, by his standards, he took her out to ancient ruins, and they explored.

It could be dangerous; she broke a few bones on these adventures. Most never healed properly, and so bumps and scars littered her body.

The worst, the one that almost killed her, occurred in the temple.

Her father passed a few years before, to disease. She carried on his work, suddenly alone. His life’s work: a crumbling ruin.

She had spent days scouting it out, hidden behind a waterfall, like in the legends. She was nervous. Afraid that her father’s work would amount to nothing, that the life she had led without him would’ve turned out to be a waste.

So, she spent days by the falls and walking along the river. It was there that she met Nadine.

She had thought Nadine was a figment of her imagination at first, peeking out from the top of the water. A beautiful, sweaty spirit of the wilds, dressed like an average person.

A blessing she received.

That night, she went in. There were traps, which she expected, and treasures, which she had desperately hoped for. In the centre, buried underneath layers of chambers, was the Tusk.

She got greedy.

Traps triggered—

The Tusk, she held to her chest—

She curled over, protecting it from falling rubble and—

The tip, sharp and shiny, punctured her middle. It was shallow, but still, she cried out and tripped, and the spear she landed on went too far in to be considered shallow.

She doesn’t remember the details; all she knows is that she came back to herself while crawling out the collapsing entrance, sticky with blood.

She hid the Tusk away, for later, and stumbled her way to the nearest town, broken spear sticking out from her ribs.

Half a year later, freshly healed and free from the doctor, she went back. The Tusk was still bloodied, and a gem from the tip of the Tusk had fallen out somewhere. At least, it made up for all her suffering in gold.

In the face of all that, Nadine was not forgotten, but she was not remembered.

Feeling awkward and uncomfortable, having been vulnerable for the first time in almost half a millennia, Nadine sits up and grimaces. Chloe opens her bleary eyes and stretches.

“What time’s it?”

Nadine could look at her watch, but she grabs hold of Chloe’s forearm. “Does it matter?”

Chloe looks down and frowns. “I suppose not. What’s happening?”

“Do you want to address the tension?”

Chloe’s muscles relax slowly. She kicks her sneakers off and, in one swift movement, shrugs Nadine’s hand off and settles into her lap. Her mouth descends onto Nadine’s.

This time is almost like the last, fast and sloppy. Except they do it three more times, at least, and afterwards Chloe settles in beside her and stays till morning.

Nadine also has many scars, and Chloe maps them all out just as Nadine does to her.

“So, am I the older woman or are you the older woman?”

Nadine bites into her skin, licking a soothing stripe along the scar tissue there.

Chloe groans and looks down. “Does that mean I should shut up?”

Nadine gives her an unimpressed look. “Yes.”

“Okay,” she breathes, hand flying to the back of Nadine’s head. “Whatever you say.”

South Africa is best experienced in the weeks after Summer has passed, in Chloe’s very vocal opinion, and maybe that’s why the days she spends holed up in Nadine’s apartment feels a little like paradise.

She is not the sentimental type, and Chloe even less so, but there is something to be said for attachments. She had forgotten.

Chloe even admits that she was only here because she saw Nadine’s picture and wanted to use Nadine for information on why she‘s the way she is. Nadine doesn’t take it too personally, because she would’ve done the same, probably.

It ends, of course, as all things do. Not permanently, but Chloe isn’t the type to stay still, and Nadine’s set her sights on finishing this damn degree.

They agree, in five years, they will return to the tree, the patch of grass, and try again.

Nadine feels like she has aged the five centuries she had powered through almost numbly in the span of those five years.

They kept in contact because neither of them is the type to make significant, corny gestures like that. Over text, Chloe echoes the sentiment.

For Nadine, it is as if Chloe had barged in, reminded Nadine that she was in control of the remote and that hitting the fast forward button on life wasn’t the only option.

“Why do you chase after violence?” came her voice, tinny over the phone. She was in Russia.

“Do I?”

Chloe hums. “All your wars, your crusades. You insist you don’t want to die and yet…”

Nadine raises her eyebrows and finishes typing out her sentence before pushing back on her desk chair. Her first instinct is to be defensive, but Chloe starts to hum tunelessly, and it reminds Nadine that not everything is a fight to be won and— “Ah.”

“Do you wanna talk about something else?” Chloe laughs, then, and jokes, “My abandonment issues? Inability to sit still? Maybe how I’m greedy and selfish?”

Nadine smiles softly. “It’s okay.” She clears her throat. “I think I just got scared of losing people and just, frankly, losing in general, with life and all. I took being independent to the next level. I forgot the value in doing things senselessly, and in a way that’s exactly what I did.”

“How do you mean?”

Nadine shrugs even though Chloe can’t see. “I don’t know why I’m immortal, and I didn’t want to know. What makes me deserving of eternal life and not anyone else? So, I thought only of what I would do with this and doing those things. I’m good at fighting. Why wouldn’t I fight? And I can’t die—there are causes I could give myself to.

“I mean, there were moments, in between, where my thought would wander, of course.” Nadine pauses, feeling nonsensical. “I don’t know. I don’t know how to explain it.”

“That’s alright. I get it.”

“I know. Thank you.”

“Anytime, love.” Another breathy chuckle. “Literally, anytime. From now until the rest of eternity.”

“Hello,” Nadine says when she feels a shadow loom over her.

There’s a rustling, and then a kiss to her cheek. “Hey there, sleeping beauty.”

It’s been five years.

Nadine opens an eye and sees Chloe peering down with her stupidly beautiful smile. Her fingers graze at Nadine’s cheek, featherlight, and Nadine’s touches over them. Warm.

“So weird how you haven’t aged a day.”

“Ja, I didn’t get a chance to develop stress wrinkles since you left.”

Head thrown back, wind blowing her hair aside, Chloe laughs. Nadine thinks there hasn’t ever been a surprise as nice as Chloe since the dawn of time.

Stooping over, Chloe kisses her.

#THANK U FOR THE PROMPTS THEY R V INSPIRING and also thank u for still caring abt chlodine yrs later #ok i didnt edit this n i wrote this all in one sitting literally 5 seconds ago and this isnt good like plotwise #and the themes r not thought out at ALL but #but i still am proud of myself for slamming this one out #chlodinefics #ask #anonymous

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blackinksandsheeps · 5 years ago

Text

Over and gone

A day after I wrote my last entry, I talked to him one last time. That day everything inside my shook, in my head: “that’s it, that’s enough...” They were talking about having another session that coming weekend, and I have no more words. So, at the end of the day, I talked to him. I didnt scream, despite being so frustrated, but I did cry. I asked him to cut the acids and the shrooms, he can leave the pot and have it occasionally as he claimed, but no. With no second thoughts, with no concern that I was bawling as I hugged and kissed him one last time, he chose his habits over me. I couldnt believe my eyes, and the things I heard from him, I was being accused of being controlling even, when all I want is what’s best for him for the long term. I couldnt believe, that I was being told that I knew nothing, and I knew to myself that he is wrong. He knew nothing about me. That night it hurt so bad, I didnt want to let him go, because everything was okay, I was so happy being with him. But I am a person that had to get things done, I am a person that is reasonable, and I did what I stated on my last entry. I broke up with him through phone.

I could recall everything, the short exchange of words between us. He decided to have a stroll that night as I called him, and this is how it goes after checking the signal and the noise around him:

me: I love you

him: I love you too!

m: but I cannot accept that part of you... I’m sorry, I really could not.. I dont want this anymore...

at that point I was crying really hard, and he was surprised and he simply just agreed. And even blamed me for it. Because he told me in the first place. I cut him off before he could even continue, because we already talked about it hours ago. It ended just like that. In the morning I took away what I gave him from his table, and threw them in the bin, and he came late for work. And you know, he was okay, like nothing happened. My friends found out that day, and some hated him for how he acted. I cried the whole day, devastated, because I was so disappointed, and so heartbroken. The person whom I thought would choose me, didnt, and he simply let go like there was nothing.

Now, it has been a month. And this pandemic has been happening, but before the pandemic, I cried everyday, and I didnt care if people were there. But my friends and family never failed to be there, to check on me, to listen to my petty and repetitive issues. I continued to go to the gym, and began painting again. And I began doing research and I read articles of what I was going through, I want this thing to be over and I never want to reach the point where I could be having mental and physical health problems. And I found something, and it has been echoing in my head and in the articles, and what my family and friends say: its not your fault.

It happened, and I did everything I could to solve it, and it broke me not because I couldnt change his mind, but because he is not afraid to loose me. If he is completely okay with that, why cant I? Because I love him, I genuinely do. Even at his worst, I do. It hurts a lot and I sometimes cry about it, I want to forgive myself, I want to forgive him, and honestly I dont want him back after what he has showed me. I realized so many things after doing research, after untangling things in my head.

I am better than he is, not because I am older, but because I know the value of what I had, myself. I know what real love looks like, and it is not my responsibility to teach that to anyone, but it is something for me to show and make others feel it. It is not my job to change anyone for me, but theirs, they just have to decide. But most importantly, I learned that I am capable of giving love despite being so broken myself, that I am capable of long term relationships and I can actually keep it as long as the person I am loving chooses me, and I understand what love is. My friends told me: you dont have to mind him anymore, I know you’re sad about all this and that doesnt mean the love you shared isnt true, it is not just mean to be. You should be thinking about yourself now, go out! Try new things, you’re so much better. And its okay to be sad, and you just had to forgive, so you could forgive yourself.

There are some things you cannot control, and you have to forgive yourself. It will be a hard journey for me again, but there is nothing that I couldnt surpass. I did this before, and there were no words left unsaid, I told him everything and it is nobody’s fault, so there is no point in blaming. Right now I just want to be at sea, floating peacefully under the bluest sky.

#movingon #love #heartbreak

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dxmagedrose · 5 years ago

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GET TO KNOW THE BLOGGER!

Tagged by: my lover @hammurabicomplex I’m tagging: anyone and everyone who wants to pick this one up! share with the class if you feel like it! tag me in it!!

PRESENTING. RANDOM DEEP DIVE WITH INDIGO-MUN AT 2AM ;

FIRST NAME Good fucking question… It’s (sort-of) currently Dylann! I was Kieran before that, though; it’s still used as one of my first names and I’m not used to Dylann quite yet bc I’ve just started using it.

Indigo is one of my middle names though, and I’ve used it as an online handle elsewhere forever so I use it here now! [ Fun etymology facts: Dylan(n) is a mythology name generally meaning “born of the wave” (aspiring diver & a water witch at heart). Kieran means “little dark one” bc of my love for horror, && I chose Indigo bc as a kid to be it was neither boy (blue) or purple (girl) and was both and neither as well as my absolute favorite color as this vibrant ass mystical color. ]

STRANGE FACT ABOUT YOURSELF hmmmmm…. I’m a horror lover at heart, so as a child (I wanna say 12), I was walking through an antique store (I have a few cool finds, I considered putting my other one as the fact tbh) and I turned the corner and I saw these two dolls staring back at me at the foot of the stairs of this antique building. my blood froze, and i felt my stomach drop. i got actual, physical goosebumps stumbling across these two creepy dolls staring back at me in the corner, and i couldn’t leave the store without them. perhaps the little painted porcelain boy would be somewhat spooky by himself if it wasn’t for the terrifying lidded gaze of the porcelain girl with the hairline fractures and slightly open lips. i cant look at her. i dont really find dolls scary, I like to find the spookier ones ones, and she makes me paranoid as hell. i keep her face covered and her up in my closet except for when i bring her out to show her off proudly as the spookiest thing I have but……. i dont really collect dolls anymore. even thinking about her brings a fearful tear to my eye. i don’t like to think about her for very long, but that’s why I’m so fucking proud to own her. ( YES — I’m THAT white person in the horror film )

TOP THREE PHYSICAL THINGS YOU FIND ATTRACTIVE ON A PERSON hhhhh a beardy jawline, high cheekbones, crooked canine teeth >:3c

A FOOD YOU COULD EAT FOREVER AND NOT GET BORED OF b.l.t.’s with avocado. ahhhh. my mouth is watering just thinking about it, oh my god. just a bit of salt and pepper???

A FOOD YOU HATE barbecue anything, i hate the taste of bbq sauce, you keep your nasty black goo to yourselves at the grill. twice in my life i have presented with barbecue pizza and both times i cried literal tears. why would you do such a horrible thing to a person? what kind of a monster are you? how do you sleep at night?!

GUILTY PLEASURE the sims. constantly. always. i’ve sunk thousands of hours into my households. oh also uhhhhhh i run two 80s horror blogs, one being a shitpost blog with occasional art of mine and one gremlin fanfic ship blog for horrible, terrible self indulgent fanfics i’ll get the courage to finish writing & post so i can be cancelled on tumblr for at some point. NO, i won’t link them. as i pretend they’re even all that hard to find, within a day i was found on both by someone i admire here a lot :’) ilu bby thnk u eternally for supporting ur local horrifying dumbass wtf

WHAT DO YOU SLEEP IN the same clothes i’ve been wearing all day usually, my sweats & long sleeve raglans or my hoodies. i like being cozy day & and out. and ugh. efoort. just throw me in a blanket in a cool room and im out.

SERIOUS RELATIONSHIPS OR FLINGS serious relationships with some openness or poly. i wish i could fling! just not exactly easy for demisexual autistics lmao.

IF YOU COULD GO BACK IN THE PAST AND CHANGE ONE THING ABOUT YOUR LIFE, WOULD YOU AND WHAT WOULD IT BE I think I would be adopted by my grandma as a kid. It would save me some trauma but mostly I think it would get my autism diagnosed way earlier and save me angsting all these years of wondering why & thinking it’s my fault I’m struggling so much and so loud and affectionate and different in a world that i didnt fit in the same way.

ARE YOU AN AFFECTIONATE PERSON when i get drunk i text people how much they mean to me in my life. does that answer your question? ahhh. i’m sometimes a cuddle monster with friends, i message people with long texts about how much they mean to me, but I sometimes really don’t like to be touched at all.

A MOVIE YOU COULD WATCH OVER AND OVER AGAIN FLYPAPER. F L Y P A P E R. FLYPAPER. FLY, and, I can’t stress this enough, fucking PAPER. ( Though also Whole Nine Yards and both Re-Animator & Bride ). I have watched Flypaper already like, 5 times this week and I’m still not done, and the other movies have been on repeat for days in this household within the last year. In the past it has also been Donnie Darko & the new Nightmare on Elm Street. roast me.

FAVORITE BOOK White Fang by Jack London. Have I actually ever finished it? No. Do I still own a copy I’ve had since childhood thru multiple dogs eating it, taking it to and from school, and highlighting and circling all the best parts of chapter one ever since I was a kid and it was too hard of a book for me to read? You bet your ass. If I ever need inspiration I just reread chapter 1. Although one of my other favorites was Broken Monsters by Lauren Beukes. But White Fang is like, a weirdly personal text. We stan London’s writing in this household.

YOU HAVE THE OPPORTUNITY TO KEEP ANY ANIMAL AS A PET, WHAT DO YOU CHOOSE FENNEC FOX!! I used to daydream about having my own named Shiloh when I was a lil kid. they’re adorable little things and i am obsessed. i mean, gimme any fox and im happy, marble foxes, red foxes… but I was obsessed with fennec foxes. Also tbh ferrets. I want a ferret.

TOP FIVE FICTIONAL SHIPS [IF YOU ARE AN RP BLOG, YOU CAN USE YOUR OWN SHIPS AS WELL] Rosa & @ninetyscnds‘s Luke, Rosa & @iimpulsivity is already screaming my name, Rosa & Constantine, Jesse & Andrea from Breaking Bad, and the joker and harley of 80s sci-fi Dan & Herbert from Re-Ani. I am but a simple opossum.

PIE OR CAKE Pie! I’ll take both pumpkin & melty apple over cake. also, cheesecake is more pie than cake soooo, pie wins.

FAVORITE SCENT my dogs / my blanket. :’) It’s the most grounding smell in the world.

CELEBRITY CRUSH oliver jackson-cohen, i’m fucking GAY and im angry about it. there i was, minding my own business, and i saw that asshole in a certain SHIRTLESS GIF and it AWOKE SOMETHING IN ME. dont talk to me about it, holy shit im obsessed with beardy men now god fuckkdafjaask i hate him why did he make me this gay i was perfectly fine being into girls but NOOOOOO him and his dumb hairy chest and sweet rugged face and I—— I also am obsessed with the archaeologist & television personality Josh Gates and may or may not be considering making a fan blog for him bc idk if my anthropology docuseries host is Dad or Daddy but i love him lots

IF YOU COULD TRAVEL ANYWHERE, WHERE WOULD YOU GO I would go on a dive with anthropologists and archaeologists doing fieldwork research in the ancient cenotes of the Yucatán Peninsula. My actual dream job, catch me crying & fantasizing about being underwater documenting Mayan skulls given as offerings. Fuckkkk, I love anthropology so much!! take me anywhere in the world to immerse myself into culture & archaeology.

INTROVERT OR EXTROVERT Introvert. I have a real life friend I see roughly once a month, and that’s it. Plenty of online relationships, I’m chatty, message me all day every day. but i dont do people well.

DO YOU SCARE EASILY I used to! Really bad. I don’t as much anymore. I do get paranoia a lot still. Having therapists telling you that the FBI could be outside your house watching you through your windows will kind of nervous. ( no google results for: yes hello fbi i am a writer please dont put me on watchlists i just have research i need to do for this idea im working on, would you like to try again? ) I have nightmares nightly but not they never make me afraid, they just make me feel like crap. jumpscares and loud noises and seeing people reaching into their pockets dont set off as many brain alarms anymore tho!! progress haha.

IPHONE OR ANDROID I like my android better bc of capabilities but meh

DO YOU PLAY ANY VIDEO GAMES My mom, her husband & I play COD for family game night, and Silent Hill is my life’s blood. I’ve sunken hours into Sims & Skyrim, and Norman Jayden from Heavy Rain is my #1 fictional character in existence, why do i love the druggie babies

DREAM JOB Oh… You’re asking me to pick? I’d love to be an anthropologist doing work out in the field. Underwater archaeology is peak, but I’m also heavily considering being a body recovery diver or police diver. I’d love to see myself in uniform someday, if possible. Just the thought makes me teary eyed & proud.

WHAT WOULD YOU DO WITH A MILLION DOLLARS fund my person creative & educational endeavors. get myself a spooky ass abandoned house to make my own home to create in, and travel to the world’s best dive sites. just live a mild life of education, creation & exploration. that’s the dream TM.

FICTIONAL CHARACTER YOU HATE dr. hill is a gross and whiny lil bitch this post brought to u by the miskatonic crew, how is everyone here an even worse bad guy than herbert west precious dan excluded talk shit get hit tho john winchester from spn and both walter white & todd from breaking bad are all in my crew of hated characters. i jusT… the reani novel is difficult to read because i have to deal with this old sack of shit.

FANDOM THAT YOU WERE ONCE A PART OF BUT AREN’T ANY LONGER Supernatural :-)

… AND THIS CONCLUDES A DEEP DIVE WITH INDIGO!! //

#||: && the mundane ( ooc );#( get to know a bitch!! )#( this was... a lot of me rambling about weirdly personal shit at 2 am )

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rosykims · 6 years ago

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5 + 10 for emeraude, 14 + 18 for effie, 19 + 24 for arylene and 30 through 45 for imogen bc i love her so much ? 😏😏😏

fdjkfjkfdk thank u SO much maia i absolutely Treasure You !

EMERAUDE HAWKE - DA2

What does your OC normally wear? What would your OC wear on a special night?

emeraudes fashion sense is probably my favourite out of all my ocs, so uh if u havent looked at her pinterest board yet u should do that bc its Very cute hehehe

anyway for the most part she sticks to dark, practical clothing whenever she's out and about in kirkwall or doing merc work, etc. she picks clothes that convey strength and power, but she likes having a little bit of colour somewhere on the piece, just to keep things interesting. she's not much of an embroider, but was a good way to keep herself distracted during hard times, so she tends to add little patterns here and there whenever she gets the chance!

as for special occasions, for her this would actually just be. a quiet night at home or a relaxed gathering with her friends. bc its so rare for her to have that lmao. anyway for events like that she usually wears light colours and soft fabrics, simple but always decorated with flowers or colourful patterns.

What does your OC keep in a special drawer?

she has a collection of gifts ! that kids from lowtown would give her over the years she spent in kirkwall. she's a very community based person and wants to do right for her city, and shes very nurturing (in an ironical, Cool Big Sister way) so she likes making sure all the kids are safe and being looked after. she gets a lot of trinkets and strange gifts from some of the kids as a result, but she does treasure them (even if she laughs about it with her friends) and keeps them all !

EFFIE RYDER - MEA

Who is the mother and/or father figure in your OC’s life?

effie's maternal rolemodel has always been her late mother, ellen. nobody could really fill that role in her eyes, since they had such a close, positive relationship before she passed. her relationship with her dad was a lot more strained and it really impacted a lot of her relationships later on in life too ! she tends to.... see an older man who is Vaguely Nice to her, and then think “ oh, youre my dad now?” which isnt fair to anybody obviously but yeah she,,,, has a lot of unresolved issues regarding alec and tends to unintentionally project so. We stan !

How many times did your OC move as a child? Which area was his/her favorite?

oh constantly lol. With her dad being an n7 and her mother working so hard on her research, they tended to move around wherever her parents work required. she actually enjoyed it this way. she was never good at making long term friends, but she lived meeting new people, and obviously with the move she got to experience a lot of different cultures which really put the idea of adventuring and travelling in her head at a young age.

ARYLENE TORR - TES IV

What does your OC think of children- either in general or about having them?

she likes them ! she tends to keep her distance with most communities and groups of people in particular, but she does like enjoys having the odd conversation with the odd street urchin here and there, either sharing with them some strange, ridiculous life advice or – if shes feeling particularly chaotic – telling them the scariest stories she can think of. as for having them, arylene isnt AGAINST the idea, but she has far too much for the foreseeable future for that to ever be a good idea

Who are the people your OC dislikes/hates?

outwardly, arylene is an almost unbearably easy going person, so you would assume she doesnt hate anyone lol. but she does DEEEPLY dislike cults and groups of ignorant people who are arrogant enough to start messing with the balance of life, or making deals with gods, etc. she believes that people like that can do an unbelievable amount of damage, so she invests a lot of time and effort it sabotaging any group or plot she happens to find !

IMOGEN FOSTER - RDR2

Did your OC participate in extracurricular activities, and if so, what were they?

hmm idk if this even EXISTED in 19th century london lol, but she would have done some very tame version of girl scouts as a child! She barely remembers any of it, but she liked the classes on what plants did what, which were safe to eat, and the likes. its something that helps her a lot when on the run with the gang, and something shes always had a personal interest in, as a nurse !

other than that, she’s done a lot of independent study on history, classical literature, and she speaks fluent italian we stan !

What is your OC’s opinion of school? What kind of student was s/he?

imogen comes from a very wealthy aristocratic family, so she was very fortunate that her privilege afforded her the education she got at the time. she is VERY grateful to have attended the schools she did, and she made sure to make the most of it, paying attention in class and studying harder than most of her classmates. she's a smart girl with a very active mind, so knowledge is something she can't get enough of. she was actually petitioning the board of education to allow her to attend university before she left for america – already their had been women accepted into universities at that time, but obviously it was still a very scandalous thing lol, especially since imogen wanted to study medicine.

What subjects did your OC excel at?

imogen is a HUGE overachiever and did pretty well at basically everything from science, mathematics, language studies and later on, in her studies as a nurse. i can tell you what shes bad at though lmao

anything physical really dkdkdks she is TERRIBLE at horse-riding since she usually just went by carriage everywhere in the city. art and poetry and writing in general she was never great at, because she's a pretty logical person and was told she never put enough emotion in her work lol !!! sports...obviously was very limited anyway as growing up in like? the early 1870s lol. and as for the traditionally feminine lessons in like ?? sewing and cooking and stuff well ! she was very average at them which made her  feel worse than if she was actually bad bc she's so used to excelling and making a name for herself oof

What subjects interested your OC?

Imogen loves greek literature and mythology !! the iliad is her favourite book and she keeps her heavily annotated, dog eared copy – a gift from her late father – on her person almost constantly. needless to say its why dutch admires her as much as he does lol.

obviously, as a nurse-trying-to-be-a-doctor, she has a great love for medicine in all its forms. she's always been fascinated in natural remedies, and even moreso when she's running with the van der linde gang and is really relying on the land to survive.

What is your OC’s dream job and/or current profession?

hmm okay so. Technically she's a nurse – she worked in her father's hospital for almost 10 years prior to his death, and she was sort of his unofficial understudy, as in she knows a LOT more than her job description requires lol. but after her father past away, another, less progressive man took his place as chief of surgery and made a lot of changes to the way the hospital operated, and imogen was let go. she and her mother were fighting against it, however, under the ground of unfair dismissal, but obviously given the time period it didnt get them very far. so ! i mean technically she's unemployed rn. but she still has dreams of being a doctor, or at least continuing her career in medicine.

How is your OC working towards their dream job and/or achieved their current profession?

Oh VERY direct action up until she got disheartened and chose to take her sabbatical. she had been working in her role for nearly a decade, and was very obviously one of the most experienced nurses there. even younger doctors would sometimes ask her for her medical opinion dksksks anyway what i am saying is Brain Very Good. she had been fighting to gain admission into a university – any, she wasnt picky – to study medicine officially, but it didnt get very far and she put it on hold after her father got sick. after he died and she was laid off, she fought even harder against the city to reinstate her title, and continues to fight after she returns from america a year or so later.

What are your OC’s thoughts/opinions of his/her current profession?

helping people is her entire life, and she wouldn't know what to do without it. she loves being a nurse enough to fight to be a doctor, but also in BEING a nurse, she is hyperaware of all the things current medical standards seem to get wrong, and she has a lot of ideas about how else to go about things. her father, a shockingly progressive and worldly man for the time period, shared her sentiment, but he wasn't able to make the changes he wanted to before he passed, so imogen hopes she can be the change herself, and make her father proud

What is your OC’s biggest dream?

being a licenced doctor, babey ! preferably at her father's hospital, but at the point she will take what she can get.

How does your OC react to and handle stress?

imogen handles stress very well , which is partially why she makes such a good medic, and also how she managed to survive the first week of being with the van der linde gang lmao. she is very good at shutting out EVERY distraction when things get dicey, and her brain tends to move at a million miles an hour. all traces of english etiquette and politeness go out the window, though, so you'll usually catch her barking orders at people, and yelling at anyone who prevents her from doing the work she needs to do. it.....is a big wake up call for people like dutch and micah, and gets her into a LOT of trouble on multiple occasions.

How does your OC handle anger?

ooo......not great. she’s grown up with parents who maybe encouraged her to speak her mind a bit....TOO much given the historical circumstances lol. she really doesn’t stand for ignorance or prejudices in any capacity, and if she has a problem with someone and it gets in the way of her trying to do her work or help others - she will ABSOLUTELY be having words. she also overestimates her own strength quite a lot. she’s tried to throw hands with micah MANY times, often forgetting she’s this tiny 70kg englishwoman and he’s .... Him sdjkdcjkf. she has a big mouth too so she often says snide remarks without even meaning too, which tends to get her in trouble as well. on the bright side, it also helps her fit in with the gang quite well, because for the most part they all appreciate how wild she is lmao

How does your OC handle grief?

hmm i guess it depends on what you would class as “well”? she doesnt cry very often - being stoic and handling your emotions is important when your a nurse - but she does tend to shove her feelings down far longer than she should, and tries to pretend they don’t exist by simply focusing on other things. she also blames herself when a lot of things go wrong, because she’s a perfectionist and wants to FIX everything, so when she finds something - or someone - she can’t save, it feels like a personal failure. like she let them down :(

What is your OC’s greatest fear?

probably being trapped in an unhappy, unfulfilling marriage with someone who undervalues her. she’s not much of a homebody and doesn’t have too much of an interest in being married, but the idea of feeling FORCED to marry someone in order to have a decent quality of life makes her blood run cold oof

What makes your OC happy?

helping people ! meeting new folks ! learning about other cultures and ways of life! learning about NEW THINGS in general ! proving people wrong ! insulting micah !

as tough and high-and-mighty as she sometimes seems, she’s a pretty easy person to please, honestly. treat her with respect, give her space to do the things she wants to do, and don’t get in the way of her opportunities to learn new things, and she’s mostly very happy !

What kind of sense of humor does your OC have?

she has a fairly macabre and sardonic sense of humour, something she picked up from her mother. she says a lot of Shocking things for the time period, and she’s not shy of dirty jokes either. the first time sean heard her, a soft, well spoken english Lady, make some filthy, crude joke, he nearly had a stroke right there on the spot kjkjkfdjkf

What are some things that greatly upset your OC?

senseless violence, suffering or cruelty. she really hated the gang at first and hoped to escape the first chance she got, because all she could see was the crime and disregard for human life she assumed they all held. fortunately, as she got to know them, she realized this wasn’t exactly the case, but she still has a lot of anger in her heart for a few key members of the gang who seem to enjoy bloodshed more than anything. she also hates any form of social prejudice, and people who gatekeep knowledge and opportunities from others.

What are some things that annoy your OC?

i guess all of the above, but she also dislikes misplaced arrogance, and people who talk down to others. she tolerates dutch, but often gets frustrated with the way he speaks, using as many big words as he can to manipulate and confuse others. she believes that really intelligence doesn’t require obscure jargon and big, fancy words - she likes keeping things simple, so everybody can follow along.

#trvelyans #asks #ilysm for asking so many questions gal and sorry for the late reply !#oc: emeraude #oc: effie #oc: arylene #oc: imogen #imogen is my new rdr2 oc in case u couldnt tell djkdsjks #i need to update my ocs page with all my new Babies #also im so sorry for how long and probably messy these replies are #i did Not proofread this in the slightest so. godspeed !!#/ long post

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blueyesandleatherjacket · 6 years ago

Text

Ghost of you, 15/?

Volume: 1.

Number of parts: 15/?.

Pairings: Human!Nine x Rose; Human!Ten x Jack; Clara Oswald x Olivia Baxter (OC).

Synopsis: "She felt it, it was time to speak about the weight on her shoulders. Something she had never done before."

A/N: I've started writing this fiction last year after I had a particularly weird dream (as usual) and after I wrote the prologue, I've put it aside to work on other stuff. I've gone back to it not so long ago and decided that it would be the fiction I would post next, after not posting anything for a while. I must have watched I am legend and Game of thrones way too much to come out with something like this but I hope you will like it. I am not a scientist, nor did I have a particular knowledge of sciences. I do my researches on the internet like everyone to make sure everything is as close to the reality as possible. I have a literature degree only. Writing is what I do and it makes me explore next fields, and learn new things.

“'Cause I'd rather feel your pain than nothing at all.” - Three Doors Down.

CHAPTER 15:

Amy woke up slowly. She was wrapped into a cocoon of warmth and well-being. She didn’t remember when was the last time she had felt so well. She stretched her body. She was taking all her time. She didn’t want to lose this precious well-being she hadn’t felt in ages. There was someone lay by her side. She rolled on her side and cuddled into the warm body beside her. She heard a smile and someone wrapped an arm around her. She must be dreaming but that dream was pleasurable. She liked it. She lazily wrapped her arm around that person. She didn’t know what she had expected but certainly not to be so close to a woman. This surprised her beyond words and she reluctantly rolled away from the unknown person she liked cuddling into. She couldn’t let herself go that way. The other woman reacted by trying to soothe her but Amy was too sleepy to be calmed down so easily. She needed to clear her mind first. Moaning, she pushed the hand away and rubbed her eyes. She stretched her body and looked around her. She wasn’t in her office but she wasn’t in her house either. It was a room she didn’t know. Had she done it again? Had she drunk until she had a blackout and been brought home by some stranger? There were pictures on the wall facing the bed. Pictures of a couple. Great, the woman she was with was married. She would have to deal with another cheated husband. She knew well that she didn’t have any control on herself when she was drunk. It was only a way to mute her pain. She was doing this when it was too strong, when it was suffocating her. She focused on the pictures on the wall. She wanted to see what the man she would have to face in the near future – because fate always made sure she faced them – looked like and the last pieces of the puzzle clicked together. It was Maxence Spitz. She remembered how she had ended up here. She had watched Rose work with Maxence for a while and the scientist had taken her into the private parts of the lab. They had had a quick lunch and they had settled down here. After a quick shower, they had lain down in bed and, reassured that she wasn’t alone for once, Amy had fallen asleep rather quickly. How much time had she slept? Had Rose watched her while she was asleep or had she slept too? It felt weird to be here, in this bed, with the wife of the man supposed to be her boss at the moment. But it was the start of a friendship. “How long have I slept?” A certain time according to her croaked voice and the feeling of being rested. She hadn’t felt this way in a very long time. It was before… “I’d say eight solid hours.” “Eight hours?” “You needed that sleep.” “And you?” “A couple hours.” Amy looked up at Rose. She was sat against a pile of pillows, glasses on her head and a book on her lap. She was reading and marking pages by folding their upper corner. Probably a book about her current researches. She looked as exhausted as before though. “You don’t look like someone who’s slept.” “Never said it was a good sleep.” “Do you have nightmares?” “I’m not the only one.” Rose looked away from her book to stare at Amy. Those whiskey eyes were clear on the meaning of those words. Somewhen during the night she had dreamt of this event and she must have screamed and cried and struggled against the sheets. “Sorry.” “Don’t be. I know what it is.” If there was something nice about Rose, it was that she wasn’t asking questions. She was giving her the time to consider the eventuality and if she wasn’t talking, she wouldn’t insist. She would wait until she was ready. “We all have our demons. You know mine already.” “But you don’t know mine.” “You’re not forced to talk to me.” “You’ve been comforting me, that’s the least I can do. You’re also the only one to care about me here.” Her voice was sad when she evoked this lack of friends in her surroundings. Rose was the first one to ever hold a hand out to her in this place and it felt amazing to have someone like her so close to her. Somehow, it felt easier to make friends in such a situation. She hesitantly snuggled closer to her new friend. “In my hometown, I’m known to sleep with married women,” she chuckled. “It only happened once but you know how people are.” “We all do mistakes.” “When my pain was suffocating me, I was going to a pub and drinking until I couldn’t feel it anymore. Once, I was taken home by a woman and I woke up in her bed. Only to be caught by her husband a couple hours later.” Amy fell silent after this admission. She was waiting for the judgement to come. People always judged a woman that was sleeping with someone married or that was having relations with another woman. But Rose didn’t say a thing. Instead, she pointed to a picture on the wall. A younger version of her and Maxence together in a park. Maxence had his arms around Rose and he was smiling brightly. Rose was just as happy on this picture. “This was the day we admitted our feelings to each other. It was one month after I broke up with Liv.” “You mean…” “Olivia Baxter, our doctor. We’ve known each other since forever. I’m totally bi. Not gonna judge you on this one.” “We didn’t…” “No.” Amy was relieved to know this at least. A friend that wasn’t judging her and that hadn’t let her make another mistake. Finally someone open minded. “Not enough alcohol in this building for us to be drunk. And I’m faithful.” “I used to be,” sadly murmured the therapist. She sat up and stared at the wall before her. She felt it, it was time to speak about the weight on her shoulders. Something she had never done before but Rose was offering her the trust and friendship she needed. It was all new but she knew deep down that she could say anything to this woman. She would listen and never judge. Hopefully. As a way to prove it, Rose took her hand and gently squeezed it. “The virus was already out when it happened. It wasn’t as bad as it is now. We could go out and have fun. And that’s what we did, my husband and son and I. There was a fair in our little town and we’ve spent the day there. It was a long and amazing day. My little boy, my William…” Her voice trailed off and she stopped speaking for a couple minutes. The anxiety was strangling her again. Rose didn’t say anything, she just stroked her hand with her thumb. A way to reassure her, to tell her that she wasn’t alone. After all, she was going through a loss too and she knew what it was. There was nothing to say at the moment. She could only listen. “We let him eat too much sugar and he was sick. I was driving so Bob, my husband, could deal with our son. He was blaming me for buying so much candy floss and so many sweets and I was trying to argue that our son’s happiness was the only thing that mattered. Every kid experiences sickness because of sweets at one point. But this argument signed our end. It distracted us.” She closed her eyes as the memories flew into her mind. She could see herself driving, her husband turned to watch William who was complaining about a belly ache. Two parents arguing and a sick child. She was looking for a place to stop the car so they could get out and breathe some fresh air to make the nausea disappear. And this man came out of nowhere. She brutally steered to avoid him and she lost the control of the car. No matter how hard she was trying to get the control back, the car kept sliding on the road and her husband was yelling at her and it was disturbing her. What had to happen happened. The car left the road and collided with a tree. The shock was so violent and so sudden that the airbags didn’t work. Her head bumped against the steering wheel and she thought it was over for her. “When I woke up, I was in the ICU. They waited until I was transferred to the light cares unit before telling me the truth. They haven’t suffered, they say. The collision killed them both instantly.” This was the last straw. Amy burst into tears and Rose wrapped her arms around her. She hugged her tight and rubbed her back while she cried all the pain that was still hurting her heart.

Zachary was worried. He had watched Maxence working and entering all the formula he had written on the wall on his personal space. Zachary had transferred the data to Tegan for him to approve of them. He would have to talk with Rose to be sure this was exact and to use those formula for their researches. But that wasn’t the reason why Zachary was so worried. After he was done, Maxence had cleaned the walls and instead of pacing around his cage, he had lain down and closed his eyes as if he was gonna sleep. At first, Zachary had thought he was doing it out of habit – a habit from when he was human – or because he was simply bored and wanted to look at the ceiling like he was often doing. Allegro was watching a movie in his cell. There was nothing to worry about for him. However, for Maxence, things were getting complicated. His brain seemed to have switched to a standby mode. A sort of sleep that wasn’t really sleep. He was just lying there with his eyes closed. Zachary was keeping an eye on his vital signs. His brain activity had reduced to the minimum, to the very minimum. If Zach didn’t have the other information under his eyes, he would think that the man was dead or about to be. Maybe he was dying. Zachary wasn’t very qualified on this field but he was clever enough to understand that something was wrong. The vital signs weren’t good at all. He entered an alert on their interactive group work. Someone needed to come and do a check up on him. Just to be sure that the fake cure given to him wasn’t having any effect on him anymore. Just a precaution not to lose him all of a sudden. Tegan was busy with the hacker and the maker of this fake cure at the moment and he wouldn’t be able to come before he was done. Rose had gone with Amy a little moment ago and they hadn’t come back yet. Jack and Clara were checking new formulas with Martha. Liv was probably getting some rest somewhere. All the qualified people of this team were busy elsewhere. Zachary hoped they would see the alert before anything happened to Maxence. That could be really bad. Allegro, on the other hand, was perfectly fine. All the effects of the ultraviolet were gone since they had turned off the lights and he hadn’t had any other fit of anger. Another check up was supposed to be done on him. If he was getting three negatives in a row, he would be able to come out of this place. It would be a relief but he wasn’t putting his hopes too high. He was bored in this cage but he was also very safe. Zachary was often chatting with him whenever he was having a small break. “Any good zombie movies to recommend to me?” It was just yesterday. Allegro was in a quite good mood and he wanted to joke. A zombie movie really was the easiest of jokes in the current times. That was why Allegro had asked for this. “What makes you think I’m a fan of zombie movies?” “You’re quite young. Young people love scaring themselves with those sorts of movies.” “Sorry to disappoint you, I’m prefer comedies and anime series. I love a good documentary too.” “Still a kid inside.” “What’s the point of growing up if you can’t be childish at times?” “I like your philosophy but I unfortunately have seen too many horrors to find my innocence again.” Just like Jack, Allegro had been a soldier before. When his contract with the army was over, he hadn’t renewed it. Instead, he had started looking for small jobs that were less stressful and that didn’t require traveling that much. That’s how he had ended up being a security member of this lab. Not a bad job during the good times. “You’re locked in there for a while, why not bringing back all those memories from your childhood? I’m sure the cartoons you used to watch are still available.” “How old do you think I am?” Zachary chuckled. He knew how old Allegro was. He was gonna turn forty soon. On normal times, some of his colleagues would have organised a small surprise party. Just to celebrate this special day. This lab could be such a perfect place sometimes. “Old enough to listen to those songs no one knows on Jazz FM.” “I like this radio. It’s relaxing.” “More a fan of Beethoven, me.” “That is surprising.” “I like rock music. I wish I could have gone to a Maiden concert. I guess it’s a dream that will never come true though.” “You can’t know. They maybe will find a cure that will save this world.” “It will take a while before people start trusting other people again to gather into public places.” “There’s this band I really like. A French band. It’s quite special but it’s really good. Ever heard of Indochine?” “If that’s not about this part of the world, then, I don’t what it is.” “It inspired the name. Listen to it. It’s really nice.” That’s how Zach had ended up on YouTube to listen to that French band while Allegro was taking a nap. Old school, bit weird, but very good. He really liked the music. Some of their songs were bringing energy and good vibes. It certainly was appreciated. “Are you watching one of those cartoons again?” joked Allegro. “Nope.” “That seems entertaining.” “It is. That’s the band you’ve told me about. I don’t understand half the lyrics but their music is nice.” “You can’t understand them. There isn’t any sense to their lyrics most of the time.” “Not sure about it.” “That’s not what’s causing you to be so anxious though.” “No. I’m keeping an eye on Maxence’s vital signs and they haven’t been good for a couple hours. I’ve entered an alert but no one has seen it yet.” “Is this that bad?” “If there wasn’t this information on my screen, I’d thought he’s dead. He hasn’t moved in hours.” “And no one had come? That’s weird.” “They’re all busy. T is on the hacker case. Rose is with the therapist. Jack and Clara and Martha are busy with some new formulas. I have no idea where Liv can be. And there’s nothing…” He was interrupted in his explanation by the striding sound and the red alert on his screens. Maxence sat up straight suddenly, gasping for air. He tapped the wall for someone to help him. Zach was powerless but thankfully, he saw Liv, fully dressed into a hazmat suit, running straight to his cage. She had seen the alert, he thought with relief. Maxence was coughing now. He still couldn’t breathe. He fell down the bed, on his hands and knees. Liv tried to talk to him but he wasn’t listening. All he wanted was air. She placed an oxygen mask on his face. He greedily breathed in that pure air finally reaching his lungs. “Breathe slowly, Maxence. Very slowly.” He wasn’t listening. He was too focused on taking as much air as he could. He was feeling better now that he could breathe again. He looked up at Liv and saw the sadness and fear in her eyes. She pressed her fingers on his ear briefly and pulled them back. The tip of her gloves was covered with a crimson sticky fluid. Blood. He touched his face, his ears, his nose, his mouth and his fingers were covered with the same blood. It wasn’t good. It wasn’t good at all. “We’re gonna have to make you go through another scan.” She had seen his latest results and they were bad. Jack had created an alert about it earlier this week. Zachary’s had made an echo to this alert and was telling them that the situation was getting worse. Maxence was fighting the virus and it was slowly killing him. Liv cupped his cheek. “You have to stop fighting. I know you don’t want to, but you have to. It’s important. You’re dying, Maxence.” Dying. The word echoed in his mind. Wasn’t he already dying? Wasn’t he dead since the moment he had been infected? He wanted to get better and he needed to be himself to find that cure. He couldn’t be himself if he stopped fighting. Rose wanted him to fight. So he had to keep fighting. Whatever it caused him. “I’m serious, Max. You might not hold on until we find that cure if you don’t let the virus win.” He shook his head and put the mask back on his face. Liv was amazed to see how aware he was of his surroundings. She knew it was because he was fighting but it was still a shock to see it. “Rose will understand. Nightwalkers don’t die from the virus unless they get involved in fights. You can’t be both. You’ll get back to your real self, but not now.” He pushed the mask away once again. His breathing was much better. He didn’t need it anymore. He gave it back to Liv. She would probably have to destroy it now. She wouldn’t use it on someone healthy. Or she would keep it for him if he was having another fit. “You can let go. It’s okay.” He didn’t want to. He refused to. He didn’t want to abandon his friends, his team. He wanted to help them as much as he could. Even if he had to die for this. He shook his head and Liv took her hand away from his face. “I’ll always be there to save you like you’ve saved me if you keep fighting. I won’t let you die.” He was surprised by the sudden change of speech from the young woman. What was making her change her mind so quickly? There must be a reason for that. “You never gave up when I was in troubles,” she murmured. “So I’m never gonna give up until you’re better.” Next thing he knew, she was hugging him tight. The plastic of the suit creaked. It was rather unpleasant to feel this against his skin but it was the first time he was given a hug in forever. So he hugged her back. It wasn’t the same as hugging Rose but it was okay. He liked it. Finally someone wasn’t afraid of the nightwalker him.

Tegan quickly walked to the public workspace where Camden and Donna were working. Camden had asked for him to come because they had found a clue for the patient zero. Even if it was good news, he wasn’t pleased to be interrupted in his rest. He had sorted things out with Colin and made him lock away in an empty area of the lab with guards to be sure he wouldn’t run away. It was also for him to be fed and taken care of if there was any problem. This was a solved case. While he was resting after Liv healed him, there had been this alert from Zachary that was causing him to be anxious. So anxious that he was on the edge of panicking. That was why Liv had insisted on him resting. She would check on Maxence and keep him updated. His head was pounding and his face was painful. Colin had quite a punch and doing nothing to protect himself had been a clever but dangerous move. He was paying for it but that pain was highly satisfying knowing the result. He had remained on the couch of his office for a moment before another mail came. A mail from Camden requiring his presence immediately. He had sighed and made his way there. He couldn’t refuse any clue when it was for a cure that would save Maxence. “I hope that’s not a deadlock. I’m not in the mood for fake hopes.” Speaking was hurting because it was using too many muscles that were bruised and sensitive but he couldn’t avoid this conversation. It was too crucial. Donna opened her eyes wide when she saw his face and Camden raised an interrogative eyebrow. This place was rather interesting in the end. The interactions between the scientists seemed to be highly charged. More than in a usual lockdown situation. There were personal matters interfering. It was fascinating. “What has happened to you?” “Bad moves while training.” “I’ve studied biology. This is not an accident.” “Whatever. This is not what brings me here, right?” “Jack and Clara will tell you I’m a very curious man.” “He is,” confirmed Donna. “And I never give up until I have my answers.” “That’s also true,” sighed the red-haired woman. “Well, look for all the answers you want and give me what I’ve come for.” Tegan sat down on the chair facing Camden and pushed the cardboard boxes that were in front of him. He folded his arms on his chest. He wanted to go back to his couch with an ice pack and an aspirin. But he was as curious as Camden and wanted his answers. “As a scientist, you must know what the Xeroderma Pigmentosum is.” “Yes. An extremely rare disease that makes every patient unable to bear the UV lights.” “And did you know there were researches to find a cure?” “Just like every cancer on Earth, there always has been researches for Xeroderma Pigmentosum. Get straight to the point.” Camden gathered a couple of papers that were scattered in front of him and pushed them toward Tegan. The neurologist took them. He didn’t understand where Camden was going but it was because his pain was distracting him. “We’ve found out that the most important researches were done by someone called Myrtle Appleton. Here, in England.” “However,” continued Donna, “she was sacked from the lab she was working in because she was using unconventional methods. It was a couple days before the virus hit the world officially.” “But she didn’t stop her researches. She has done them clandestinely.” “So, you’re telling me that this Myrtle Appleton was running experiences secretly and that one of these experiences might have gone wrong and provoked this whole mess?” “Yes.” Tegan put the documents down. He hadn’t even read them. His mind was focused on something else, something that didn’t please him at all. He jumped to his feet and left the workspace. He made his way to the empty part of the building where Colin was locked. Their paths kept crossing and Tegan really, really hated it…

To be continued...

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In the next chapter:

Colin was outrageously relaxed for someone who had been sacked and locked away. Tegan was resisting the envy of throwing him out of the lab and letting him see how he would survive out there. It was a chance that it hadn’t done it yet since Colin was gonna be really useful if he accepted to speak. Tegan wouldn’t get inside his prison. It would be playing Colin’s game. He would just do what he had to do by staying outside. One black eye was enough for him. He observed Colin. The scientist was laid on the desk of the room and watching the ceiling. He had a smirk on his face. He didn’t seem bothered at all by the whole situation. He was annoyed to have been caught but he was living it quite well. And this was infuriating Tegan. How could this mad scientist be so happy with himself when he almost killed a man?

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#doctor who #ninth doctor #rose tyler #tenth doctor #jack harkness #doctor x rose #ficandchips #dw fic #ghost of you

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justoneday-namjoonii · 7 years ago

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Midnight Circus pt.6

☾pairing: Jungkook(?)♡→ reader ☾genre: Angst. Fluff. Mature content. bad boy summer fling au ☾summary: “You’re ten times hotter this summer, you know that?” ☾Series status statement: “I don’t know how this happened...” a/n: ok so its a little scattered and I know I took forever but I hope the finish product makes up for the lateness^^

| 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | coming soon

“Can anyone tell me how many paintings by Claude Monet titled Water Lilies?”

Art appreciation. It seemed interesting enough so you went ahead and signed up for it. The professor had the class study, Claude Monet, this week, you knew the answer but decided to give the other students a chance. Speaking of the other students, Taehyung, Beah, and Namjoon attended this class as well. You sat somewhere near the front of the class, resting your head on your propped up forearm—your mind was elsewhere.

“Yes?” You glanced to the right to see Taehyung raising his hand.

“250 oil paintings.��

“Correct. Can anyone tell me why?” He gave the class the opportunity to answer the easy question and you took it upon yourself to answer—you slowly raised your hand.

“Yes, Mr. Kim?” Namjoon must’ve raised his hand faster than you because now the class was curious about what he had to say.

He cleared his throat. “Monet was fond of his flower garden at his home in Giverny, it was the inspiration for a lot of his work, it was the center of his focus in last thirty years of his artistic life.” The information flowed off of his tongue like a poem made to mesmerize all who overhear.

“That is correct. Now class. . .”

He trailed off into something else but you were more interested in the buzz of your phone, it was a message.

[1:40] Namjoon: You knew the answer to that, we were just talking about it earlier.

You slowly eased out your phone so that it wasn’t in full view of the professor and typed slowly.

[1:40] You: yes but u raised your hand first and didnt give me time [1:41] Namjoon: ill make sure to give it to you next time then

When you felt the teacher was observing your way, you tucked your phone away, not to be answered until the class is dismissed. The clock was on your side today because before you knew it, the professor released you all early c=for a change. Students fleed the class like ants run to sugary spilled soda, they all had somewhere to be but you preferred to take your sweet time. You easily slid the notebook in your backpack and grabbed your bottle as you slung the bag over your shoulders.

“Miss L/n,” Your professor called out to you as he was exiting the classroom.

“Yes, professor?”

“I didn’t get to respond to your email but I thoroughly enjoyed your research paper, it was well organized and you presented your information eloquently.”

“Oh, thank you.”

“Keep up the good work.” The middle-aged man smiled as he cleaned off the dry erase board. You smiled, walking out of the classroom with less weight on your shoulders.

“Hey,” A familiar voice came from somewhere behind you and you looked back to see Namjoon, walking a bit faster so he could stroll beside you. “are you and Jen, Taehyung, and Beah still on for studying for this evening? If so, I can still help you guys out.”

“Uh, yeah,” You did have a pretty big test coming up, “I probably should.”

“Good. I have a paper to finish so I’ll head over there now.”

“Alright, tell everyone I’ll be there soon, I need to get a book from the library.” You bid him farewell as he walked out through the exit.

You walked through the campus, passing by the library because apparently both of you needed to pick up a book for your classes. The sun shined through the campus, the warmth cascaded within the building and created a tranquil atmosphere for the busy students that scattered throughout the school. Since the book you were looking for had nothing to do with the one he was looking for, you went to different corners of the library.

Namjoon peeked through the bookshelves, searching for the book. He found it easily but he waited around, recognizing that you were still searching for yours.

“Where is it?” You mumbled, still not finding the book.

“Y/n,” You felt hands on your shoulders and you turned to see who it was, “I haven’t seen you in a good minute.” Hoseok. You completely forgot that he used to work in the bookstore, you didn’t know he still hung out here.

“Oh my gosh, Hoseok.” You beamed, embracing him. “Hi, it’s so nice to see you again, how have been?”

“Good, my schedule is pretty busy this semester. I haven’t had a lot of free time lately.” He spoke but you were distracted by his unfailing beauty. He was glowing, a sweet smile and a kind expression resting on his face. “Are you looking for anything in particular? I used to work here so I might as well help you out.”

“Thanks, do you know where- What’s the name of it again...” You reached into your pocket for the piece of paper that you wrote the book title on. “That’s what I’m looking for.” He inspected the paper.

“Ah, I know where this is. It’s over here.” He began to walk off somewhere and you followed him. Hoseok had always been so sweet and kind, he and Jimin went to the same dance studio you went to. He worked as a part-time instructor there until he could get transferred to the school he really wanted to study dance at.

“Here you are.” He gestured to the bookcase.

“Thanks, Hobi.”

“No problem, I’ll see you later.”

He waved goodbye. You went to the counter to purchase the book, it took a minute or so and you were out of the store and going to your car so you could get to the cafe where everyone was probably waiting on you.

“Hey...” She nudged his bare shoulder, the heat of his skin sent a nauseating spiral of guilt, shame, and discomfort to the pit of her stomach. “My mom will be home in an hour, you have to go...” She pulled the duvet up to cover her chest, he was slowly coming to. She nudged his warm arm again, this time with a little more force. “Jungkook, get your clothes on...”

His eyes fluttered open upon the call of his name. Typical—he was waking up in another unfamiliar bed, wearing nothing but boxers and a sinful scent. “What?” He seethed, already annoyed by her nagging voice and visible attitude.

“You have to go, my mom will be home soon...” She stammered, fumbling through her drawer for some clothes to throw on to cover herself. Jungkook narrowed his brow as he sat up to gather himself, he replayed what took place between them and sighed. What is this, the fifth or sixth person this week? He decided to stop counting after this one. He went to the floor to gather his discarded clothes from last night and slipped them on without a word. The brunette, on the other hand, was your classic suburban-nonconformist-chick who won’t show gratitude to the parents who provide for her. He’s not the first guys she’s had over, she knew the drill too well. She wasn’t his ideal pick either. She was a bit too common for his taste, a little obnoxious, but the night was ending quickly and he didn’t have time to be picky. Her clothes were easy off and that’s all he required at the time.

When he glanced at the girl, she was getting situated to go to the shower and for the life of him, he couldn’t remember her name. He stared at her as he tied his shoes, trying to remember, Shelby, Shannon, Sarah, Stephanie? Something with an S...

”Do you have any Tylenol?” He massaged his temples as he was on his out of her bedroom, he had a little bit of a hangover.

“Yeah,” She ran to her purse, searching for the little bottle, “here.”

He took the bottle and shook it lightly to get on little pill out. He gave it back and nonchalantly made his way towards to the front door, her heart began to plummet into her stomach—what had she done?

“Wait,” She voiced shyly, “will I see you again?”

He laughed, cracking the door to stand in the doorway. “Maybe.” He left her with that.

That meant she wouldn’t see him again, not here, not with her.

He drove, not really biased on where to but he didn’t want to go home. The rumbling of his stomach indicated that he needed something to eat. He went to the nearest fast food place to get a burger and fries, y’know, something healthy. He was supposed to be in class but he assumed that but by the time he gets there, it’ll already be over.

Oddly enough, he went home.

To his surprise, his mom was home and she had a lot of questions.

”Where were you?” She was at the kitchen island with a mug of coffee in hand, the demeanor of a brute criminal interrogator.

“A friends.” He shrugged, casually walking off to his bedroom.

“Get back over here.” She hissed—that was the,’if you know what’s good for you, you better get back over here’ voice, he willed himself to tread lightly now. “I come home, working hard to provide for our family and when I get back you’re not even here. And I’m not stupid Jungkook, don’t think for a second that I’m buying that ‘I was at a friends house crap.’”

“Does it matter where I was? You and dad are never here anyway, so why should I be?” He frowned. “Why do you suddenly care?”

“Because you’re my son and I love you.” She sighed when his jaw clenched with the darkening of his eyes. “I know it’s not easy, and I wish I hadn’t brought you into this but there’s nothing I can do. You said you didn’t want to live with your dad, why are you giving me such a hard time?”

“I’m giving you a hard time?” He had to refrain from going off on her and the only way he could do that was if he left this house. Without a word, he ran upstairs to gather a few things in a backpack and when he came back downstairs she just stared at him. He had always been like this, bad at expressing his negative emotions without hurting someone, so his solution was to leave. “I’ll be back in a few days.” He stated.

“Jungkook there is no reason for you to-”

“I need my own space right now and I’m not in the mood for a lecture, mom.” He left the house, his mother not really even knowing what to say or how to get her son to change his mind. And it was just that, she didn’t know Jungkook anymore, she was unaware of his daily life. She always said, ‘as long as you get good grades and don’t get anyone pregnant, you can stay under this roof.’ She felt as if he needed a bit more structure than that, but there’s nothing she can do about it now. He’s going through a rebellious phase and she’s taking the brunt of it.

Jungkook went to Yoongi’s apartment.

He let him in without hesitation and went back to his room to study.

Jungkook found refuge in that worn out couch, he had more to stress about than finals and sleep seemed to be his temporary solution. He was called into work suddenly and he grudgingly drove to the bowling alley. He spent hours fitting antsy kids and adults for worn out old rental bowling shoes.

“Over here!” Namjoon raised a hand to get your attention when you entered the cafe full of stressed students studying for finals. You walked over to your group of friends and sat beside Jennie.

“Hey, guys.” You began unloading your books on the cramped table.

“Y/n, hey, sorry to ask but do you have the notes from the professor Welsh? I couldn’t make it to class and no one had the notes from the lecture on pdf.” Jennie pushed her glasses up on her face, pencil tight in her hand.

“Yeah, I’ll send it to you.” You pulled out your computer and began going through your files, searching for the notes you worked so hard to get. When you sent it, she showed the utmost gratitude by buying you a matcha latte. You sat across from Namjoon and he was completely enveloped in his paper—being head of the class must be burdensome, having to keep your grades up to maintain the honorable title. School was always something constant in your life, without it you felt like you were a void, an empty with no purpose. You only felt like that sometimes—other times you craved freedom, to dream under the stars with smoke tainting your breath from loving on a dangerous spirit. You sort of experienced that, maybe not to its full effect but you know what it’s like to get close to boys like Jungkook and you didn’t like it—not anymore at least.

You brought your mind back to the task at hand, your math and final project. The job they gave you was to collect the data and write the slides for the 19th-century economy. A few hours went by and the cafe was still heavy with customers, even at this hour. Suddenly, you felt something graze your ankle, someone's foot?

You looked from side to side, then right in front of you to see Namjoon grinning at his laptop. You looked at him with the sole purpose of catching his attention, but he didn’t look up, that’s when you received a message on your computer.

Namjoon: I meant to talk to you about the other night, r u okay

You furrowed your brows at the message, not immediately understanding what he was referring to. When you looked up at him he glanced at you but then he began typing something.

Namjoon: Jungkook was trying to follow you, I managed to stop him. Are you ok?

You: Yeah I’m ok

He titled his head, he knew that you weren’t ‘ok’ but now wasn’t the time to talk about it, your face pretty much said that it wasn’t the place or time.

“I need a break.” Beah sat her book down with a pout. “Anybody up for pizza?”

“If we go get pizza, we’ll never finish.” You tried to dismiss the idea but they weren’t in the mood to be focused and responsible anymore.

“How about we order food here?” Namjoon suggested.

“I know! Yoongi hyung is home, why don’t we take some pizza over to his place?” Taehyung proposed.

“Sounds like a plan to me.” Jennie went in on this crusade and you gave up trying to keep the studying here. Everyone began packing up their stuff and before you knew it, you were still packing up and Namjoon lingered behind.

“I wanted to ask, what did he do that made you so upset? He didn’t hit you or anything, did he?” If so, he was prepared to kill the kid. You slung your bag over your shoulder and walked out to the parking lot with Namjoon by your side. He came with Taehyung but you assumed he could ride with you to Yoongi’s.

“No, he didn’t hit me.” You reassured him, plopping down into the driver's seat. “He was mad that I was there, he just didn’t want to see me I guess...” Your words were but a mumble, not wishing to reminisce about that mistake of yours. “He also kissed me.” Namjoon made a perplexed expression. “Can you believe him? One minute he’s yelling the next he’s trying to kiss me. I slapped him and went home.“

“That’s my girl.” Namjoon giggled. “Now I know why he was so mad, you probably bruised his pride. He needed a wake-up call like that, not everyone is going to take his crap, he needs to learn that.” That fact made you smirk a bit, you felt like you had the upper hand as of now.

“Why is he like this?...” You sounded tired like you’ve asked yourself this question before. “I don’t understand why he treats me like that...”

Namjoon had to think before giving you his answer, did Jungkook even have a reason? He assumed that the kid just acted like that because of childhood habits; he was selfish, greedy, aggressive even. “I-...I really don’t know, he’s only ever treated you this way, I think it’s just apart of his growing up process.” He scratched the back of his head in thought. “Even though he is an adult...He-”

“He saw me in the pool with Jimin, that was it!” Your abrupt outburst had Namjoon curious onto what else you had to say.

“I don’t know what I was doing, I liked Jimin, I really did...” Your lips were turned down in a quivering frown. “I had a crush on him since forever and I never thought in a million years that he would give me the time of day, but he did, he told me that he liked me too and I was happy....” Your fingers were tight on the steering wheel, still trying to remain in control of the vehicle despite your frustration. “Jungkook kept sending these mean messages, I don’t even want to repeat the things he said, he was livid, over nothing Joon, absolutely nothing...” You stopped at the red light, holding back any signs of tears—this was nothing to cry about.

“I know you liked him. I wish it could’ve happened another way for you two but it just didn’t work out. I’m sorry I can’t help more...” This was the first time he heard how Jungkook found out about you and Jimin, now he understood a bit better. Jungkook went out there, looking for you and you were necking with one of his bestfriends—there’s the big picture. Jungkook was hurt, jealous—insecure. Something he wanted didn’t want him back, it wanted someone else. Can you imagine how it must’ve felt when he saw you, genuinely showering Jimin with affection after what you two had been doing? He was overwhelmed, he felt betrayed and used for the first time in a long long time, and that was the problem. He didn’t have the right to respond that way, you weren’t his; a few unchaste kisses and touching of bodies does not a relationship make. And Jungkook knew that. He knew that he didn’t want a bond from this and neither did you, so you and Jimin shouldn’t have been a problem.

“I can understand why he was so angry now.” Namjoon gazed out of the window, a dispirited expression on his face. “I think for the first time in his life, his heart was vulnerable and he was no longer in control. You were tugging his heartstrings in every which direction and you didn’t even know it.” The mental picture brought a fond grin to his lips.

You blinked, attempting to process what he meant by that. “Me? I thought you were on my side here. I shouldn’t be penalized for his feeling-”

“No, no, no, I don’t mean it like that, of course, you shouldn’t. IIt’s just- Jungkook really hates feeling he’s not wanted, just like everybody else, he wants to feel desired. When he saw you- You I’m saying he felt like you were cheating on him, using him.” How were you supposed to use Jungkook? What could you possibly gain from that?

“You can’t cheat when there’s no relationship- And if it were him, he’d tell the unlucky girl to get over it because it’s not a relationship anyway. And if anything, he’s been using me. He doesn’t have the right to catch feelings but not punish me for it.”

“Yes, I agree, but I know Jungkook well enough to know this, his head, heart, and body are all in different spheres. He just doesn’t know how to make those three parts of himself work in unison and the result of that is situations like this.” Namjoon sighed, seeing that you two had arrived at the apartment already. “But that’s no excuse, he has to grow out of that and face the music like the rest of us.”

You two got out of the car and you ran over to help Taehyung with the pizza and Namjoon took it upon himself to knock on the door. Yoongi lazily opened the door, not phased by the sudden arrival. You helped bring the food inside and before you knew it you were plopped on the couch, forgetting everything related to finals and indulging in the cheesy, salty goodness of the pizza.

“Hi Jungkook.” Irene. “A 7 1/2 please.” She came to the counter, looking at him like a hyena would a raw steak—he looked good to her. Jungkook knew her from around and she knew him but rarely did they interact.

“Okay.” He turned to look for the women's 7 1/2 box but it was empty. He searched around, dreading having to go to the overstock room to get them, he peeked up at her with doe eyes. “We’re out of 7 1/2′s can you do a 7 or an 8?” He raised his brows, seeing that she was smiling at him. “Well, I’m about to clock out so I’ll ask my manager to-”

“No, that’s okay.” She leaned against the counter, a grin still present on her lips. “You said you’re about to clock out, yeah? Are you busy?” Her eyes raking up and down his body, the slight bulging of his biceps under the work polo intrigued her in every way possible.

“No, why?” He countered with the crook of his brow, she followed him as he walked along the lengthy counter to go punch in his hours.

“Just curious...” Pearly whites digging into her bottom lip as he walked passed her, she followed him without clear intent. She put a hand on his chest, stopping him from walking away from her, she brought her face close to his, the proximity of closeness made him laugh—that’s what she wanted.

In a matter of minutes, they were in the alleyway between two unsuspecting buildings, classy.

“J-jungkook.” She manages to choke out through his relentless assault on her clavicle, it was more painful than anything and she wondered why he was being so forceful. When he lead her out here her stomach lurched in excitement and they were in the little corner where she was sure no one could see. “Y-you okay?” He was aggressive.

He responded with a rough nip to her neck followed by a tantalizing lick to soothe the pinch; she figured he was just in a feisty mood so she went with the flow. His hands found her bare waist and chest, not deciding on which one to seek comfort in. He was all over her, not providing her the leeway to control much but her hands. At this point, his shirt was wrinkled up and her lipstick was smeared into an abstract of lecherous hunger on her lips.

Jungkook snarled when her hand wandered up to his stomach to his chest but not close to where he wanted it. She gripped his collar to take his mouth away from her neck and have a nice long look at his deep, almost opaque orbs—he looked so intense and focused. “Are you trying to make look like I’ve been mauled? Damn.” She was referring to the love bites on her once cream-colored flesh. His cheeks were glowing a light pink when he left the heat of her neck, he was already feeling cold.

“Why’re you in such a rush?-” He shoved his mouth against hers, swallowing her protests until they were nothing but moans—he didn’t come here to chitchat. They kissed for a little while, he easily battled her tongue into submission with his own, he would go so far as to say he was being a little nasty with it. But right now, he didn’t care what it looked like, as long as he could overstimulate himself with the feeling.

He pulled back, chest heaving lightly with a wetness coating his chin and strawberry colored lips. “Isn’t this what you wanted? Hm?” He smirked, their clothes were in shambles when he stopped to ask her. “You like this, don’t you? Shit, I know you do,” He smirked to himself, “I can see it on your face...” His hands doing their own thing to bring her to her metaphorical knees.

“Mhm.” She nodded, getting into character when his tone became authoritative and stern.

“Yeah?...” He nibbled on the cherry flavor that lingered on his lips, that’s why her lips were so bright red and plush. In the height of the moment, he clutched her jaw and slipped an index finger in the disturbingly warm cavern, because in hindsight, that’s all he was looking for out of this—warmth, he wanted to feel warm again. She bit him lightly, just applying enough pressure to grin. “Mm.” He scoffed, slipping the finger out and wiping her saliva on her clothes. “What do you want? Tell me what you want.” He demanded, wanting to hear her articulate it word by word.

“You, please.” She cooed. “I want you Jungkook, I don’t care how.” Now she sounded too desperate—but weren’t they both?

“Yeah?” He taunted with a throaty voice. “Let me hear you say it again...” He mumbled, more to himself than her. “Say it again, I want to hear you say it...” She obliged to his request, repeating over and over that he was all she wanted, craved to hear that. It triggered an influx of dopamine to his brain, it was like he was floating when he heard that one simple, yet, significant phrase, ‘I want you.’ “Fuck, turn around...”

Warmth.

For a moment, he felt a warmth, soft skin mangled together and he was in euphoria.

He got to feel wanted, even if it was only physical desire, and even if it only lasted for so long, he got to feel it and that had to mean something. It was satisfaction he was looking for but He hadn’t found it. When they finished, Irene clutched onto nothing when he pushed her further with an arm snaked around her stomach like a restraint. He felt a dirty, disgusting feeling—the high was over and it was time to say goodnight.

Night after night, girl after easy girl, in an attempt to fill that hollow space. Those girls would fill him to the brim for a short second just to drain him dry in seconds, and he’d do the same to them. He could have it his way, not have to lift a finger and they would swoon over him, fight each other if it meant spending their night with the midnight’s offspring. When it was all said and done, he cleaned up, fumbling to zip his pants up as Irene walked off in a hurry, saying she was supposed to be somewhere an hour ago or something like that.

He went to his car in the back of the building and sat there dejected -- he regrets it, he felt remorse that made him want to cry and so he did. Tears escape his eyes and trickled down his cheeks. Sitting in the dark of the parking lot, sobbing into the steering wheel with trembling fingers—he felt cold again, it chilled down to his bones.

“Well, I should head home, my parents don’t want me out too late.” It was just you and Namjoon left while Yoongi was still in his room, Taehyung and Beah had gone home but you were pretty invested in this book when they left. Namjoon looked up at you from his computer. “Are you done with chapter 13?”

“Yeah, I finished it.” You began to pack up your stuff, tired and ready to go to get in your soft, cozy bed.

“Y/n, can you throw those towels in the dryer.” You heard Yoongi voice from his bedroom. “And throw those pizza boxes out.”

“This is your house Yoongi, I’m not your maid.” You grudgingly stood to your feet and went to do it anyway, it was the least you could do since he invited everyone into his place. Well, more like, let everyone invite themselves. You went to the little laundry area near the kitchen and did as he asked, Namjoon watched you with his glasses teetering at the tip of his nose.

“I guess I’ll head out too.” He announced, slinging his packed bag over your shoulder.

“Wait, I’ll walk you to your car.” You stopped what he was doing and walked with him outside.

“Remember when you told me you’d look after me?” You spoke suddenly standing at the car door with a dreamy look on your face.

“How could I forget?” He smiled, his dimples looking as deep as the craters on the moon.

“Well, I’ve been thinking about that, a lot actually...” You twiddled your fingers absentmindedly. “You’re a really good friend, like, you care a lot about me, more so than most people.”

“What are friends for, right? If I can’t help you in some way then what am I here for? That’s just how I think.” He crossed his arms, leaning against the car to look at you with a sweet smile.

“Well, thank you.” You stood up on your tippy toes and pecked his cheek—he blushed immediately.

“Y-y/n?” He laughed nervously. “What was that for?”

“I don’t know, just for being you...” You were suddenly shy as he got into his car, bidding you farewell. You went back to the apartment to fold those towels for Yoongi.

Jungkook found somewhere to park and watch the lights for a little while, the tears had dried and he was calm again. He got himself together and drove back to Yoongi’s place. When he made it there, he pulled out the spare key and jiggled it in the lock before it popped open. “Hey, I’m back hyung.” Yoongi made a sound of acknowledgment. He sighed, throwing his heavy body on the couch. He noticed that there were a bunch of folded towels on the couch so he sat them on the center table. He laughed a little, he’s never seen Yoongi as the type to do laundry publicly. He was tired, even with the tv on he started to get droopy-eyed.

Someone was in the house. You had to use the bathroom before you left and you weren’t expecting anyone else to come over. Too anxious to walk out to see who it was, you slowly turned off the light and peeked out. There he was, watching tv the couch, curled up like a kid.

Why is he here? You wanted to be angry but you were more curious than anything. For a while you just watched him; he’d take a sip of water, weave his hand through his hair, habitual little things. It’s been weeks since you last saw him and you were happy about that, you were mad at him. He yelled at you and kissed you without permission, in front of a bunch of people and even tried to chase you.

After a little while, he was out cold and you took that opportunity to sneak out. You crawled out of the bathroom and into the living to get your bag, he was silent, not moving an inch as he slept peacefully. You managed to make it to the front door and you were just about to twist the mob when you felt a presence behind you, a heat. You couldn’t move, you were perfectly capable of walking out—why are you just standing here?

“You-...You left your sweater.” When you looked back he had wiped at his eyes in an attempt to hide any signs of sleep. “This is yours, isn’t it?” He stared at you, why were you over Yoongi’s, alone. “I remember you had it at the cabins.” You nodded and took the sweater, twisting the nob but not opening it yet, tear a started to well at your eyes. He’s always treated you differently, poked fun at you and made you feel out of place. He’d taunt you and try to annoy you whenever he got the chance, he wasn’t good and you didn’t want him, you didn’t want to want someone like him. You hand to chant in your mind, Ignore him, leave him, don’t say anything-

“You hurt me...” You looked back at him, he was surprised you even spoke. “I shouldn’t give you the time of day, you know that don’t you?” He scratched the back of his neck, pressing his lips together and making his dimples appear lightly, he was nervous. “You got mad at me for being around you and then you kissed me.” You frowned. “What is wrong with you!?” You shouted, probably disturbing Yoongi’s silence

He blinked and began to feel a tremendous amount of guilt weigh down on him.

“You tried to follow me, you called me a backstabbing slut, a whore...You act like I cheated on you! Like I violated something sacred when you really had no right to be jealous, we aren’t together. I am not yours, I have never been close to being yours and you know that. All we did was fool around and it didn’t mean anything to you. It shouldn’t have meant anything to me, you played with me and for some reason I let you...You don’t care about me Jungkook, you said it yourself, you just want my body, remember? You just come back for ‘the physical shit’ as you put it...you don’t even feel guilty either-”

“I screwed up.” He breathed heavily, anxious to start speaking “But just hear me out. I’m sorry, I’m sorry for everything, I was a douchebag.” His teeth sunk into his bottom lip. “I do some bad things y/n, really bad and dirty things, and when it’s done I feel sick to my stomach- I don’t know what it is, I just never get full enough, so, I do it over and over to fill myself up but I still feel empty...” You could only imagine what he meant as ‘bad things.’ “And cold...” He paused. “Even with all the bodies I’ve sunk myself in to get that warm feeling I can never get it to last, I can’t be satisfied and it’s killing me. I told you that I can’t stop thinking about you, the way you kiss, your laugh, the way you talk, it’s always in my mind-” He was just rambling now. “I’m just trying to forget you.”

“That’s really touching Jungkook.” You retorted in sarcasm.

He swallowed. “But it’s not working and I don’t know what to do. I even hooked up with a girl that once bullied you, a few girls actually...” He suddenly confessed. “When I realized it, I wanted to die. I knew you would hate me for it, you should hate me for a lot of things...”

“You’re right, I should hate you.” That physically stung him, your words were like daggers to his soul. “But I don’t, and that’s what I hate about you, Jungkook. Not that you emotionally scar me for life but because here I am, talking to you like it never happened.” And that was the truth. “We’re not lovers, we’re not in a friendship let alone a relationship, I won’t put this much emotional energy into something that’ll hurt me.”

He choked back a sob, was it really nothing to you? “I-...I don’t want to hurt you. I know I was mean but I was just upset. When I saw you and Jimin in that pool- I don’t know,” He exhaled shakily. “I felt hurt...”

“Well, I felt the same way when you yelled at me but I didn’t publicly humiliate you. Where is the connection between your emotions and your reactions? You’re not a child, you know better than to lash out the way that you do.” You were starting to sound like a mom the way you scolded him.

“I’m just asking for you to forgive me, that’s all...”

“Would that soothe your guilty conscious or something? If you get my forgiveness, what do I get, hm? I’ll be like you now, I don’t want to do anything that won’t benefit me...Doesn’t feel so good, does it?”

That was harsher than you intended.

“You get my vulnerability.” He replied timidly. “My weakness, my pain, you get to see me at my lowest...” Out of the blue, he started to cry, silently. The sight took your breath away—you had never seen him like this, absolutely vulnerable. A few tears escaped his eyes and you’re heart lurched, you were witnessing such a personal moment and you almost felt guilty. “I’m begging you...”

You started to feel terrible, he was really sincere about this. “Jungkook,” You sighed, “look, I forgive you okay? But that doesn’t mean-”

The melodic buzz of your phone interrupted the moment, it was your mom. “Hello? Sorry, I lost track of time studying, I’m on my way now.” Jungkook could hear your mom over the phone. “Love you too, bye.” You hung and tucked the phone back in your pocket. “I have to go...”

Jungkook wiped away his tears and nodded, accepting the fact that you had to leave. You suddenly reached into your bag, searching for something until he pulled it out, his earbuds. “I uh, I never gave them back, so, here.” He extended his hand and you dropped them into his palm, was this a peace offering he thought.

“Thanks.” He looked down at his hand and slowly, out of sheer faith, he brought his face close to yours, noses getting too close for comfort. You stared him in the eye, his lips parted in desperation but you refused to quit their whine for attention. You felt your self almost meet his lips by instinct, knowing they remembered the dance they’ve done so many times at the campground. You placed a hand on his chest to deny his request though. He mentally winced at the rejection but it didn’t change a thing because, in a matter of seconds, you were out the door and he stood there alone—cold.

“Don’t forget to turn the TV off, I can’t sleep with it on.” Yoongi peeked out of his room nonchalantly to see Jungkook walking back from the front door, he figured he’d ask later. Jungkookk went to sleep on the couch, the silence lulling him into a state of peace.

You are the sun that rose again in my life The return of my childhood dreams

I don't know what this feeling is. Perhaps, I'm in a dream, are you there too? My surroundings become more and more transparent, but I still see you.

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