#would maybe have to renovate the house so the ceilings would be higher

[angiestown]

I'm rewatching foster's home right now and the most unrealistic part of this show is that Wilt has been there the longest out of the four main friends and he still hasn't been adopted yet

[aliwritesfic]

The Night Shift part 7 (F!Reader x Frankie Morales)

Summary: Sunday lunch with the nightcrew bois, what secrets will come out?

Warnings: Emotional abuse

W/C: 1.9k

Spotify

Part 1 Part 8

The sun was too fucking bright. You groaned and rolled over, mouth dry and head pounding. Your phone told you it was almost eleven, which meant you only had an hour to get ready. That was okay, though. You weren’t exactly dressing to impress. It was only Manny and Frankie . . . Frankie.With a wince, you remembered your conversation with him last night. Had it been painfully obvious that you were talking about yourself? Surely not, if he was drunk too. But as you showered, you thought about what he said, and realised that he was right. At least, he was right about what you could remember him saying. Leaving Kurt wouldn’t mean you would be alone and unloved. You had Manny and Sara; you knew they loved you. But that didn’t change that if you left, you’d have nowhere to go. You had never been the type of person to ask for handouts, especially sympathy handouts. There was just too much to think about.

A text from your phone from Sara told you as much as you needed to know about her night went.

Manifestation WORKS 😉 sent 8:34AM

You spent a few extra minutes washing your face, enjoying the feel of cool water on your skin. Flecks of makeup that you had slept in swirled down the drain, grey and black and blue. Tiny bits of glitter glinted on your cheeks, reminding you of days past when you would drown yourself in glitter to go out clubbing. The memory made you smile, remembering how carefree and happy you were just a few years ago.

Grabbing your darkest pair of sunglasses, you were ready to go. You hadn’t bothered with styling your hair beyond running a quick brush through, and your face was devoid of makeup aside from any remnants left from last night.

It was a quick walk to the bistro, your stomach roiling the entire time. You knew it was food you needed; you had already thrown up several times last night after arriving home. The thought of filling your stomach spurred you on, your feet moving slightly faster. You whipped out your phone to text Manny.

Get. Bread. Please.

There were a few unread messages from Kurt. You knew that avoiding him was immature and would only come back to bite you on the ass when he came home, but the thought of opening them and actually reading them made you feel ill. And he would know when you opened them; he complained whenever you turned your read receipts off. So, you kept them on, to keep the peace, and just avoided opening his messages until you were ready to deal with them.

The bistro came into view, and you saw Manny already sitting at your usual table on the outside terrace. You sat down gingerly next to him and flashed him a weak smile.

“You look terrible,” he said gleefully, pushing a basket of bread and butter your way. You grabbed a small roll and broke it open, inhaling the warm scent.

“I feelterrible,” you told him. “Hangovers don’t suit me.”

Manny laughed ruffled your hair. You groaned loudly, swatting his hand away, which only made him laugh harder.

“Lover, I’ve never seen you in this kind of state before, let me tease you a little,” he said. You flipped him off and ate another roll.

“Is Frankie here yet?” You asked, trying to keep the hope out of your voice. Judging by the look on Manny’s face, you had failed miserably.

“Crushing on the cook, are we?” He waggled his brows.

“No! Of course not!” You said quickly. Liar a tiny voice whispered in your ear. “I was just wondering if he got the right place.”

“Well, wonder no longer, that’s him isn’t it?”

From your spot on the terrace, you could see the familiar figure walking down the shady street to the bistro. Your palms dampened with sweat at the sight of him.

“Francisco!” Manny called, waving him over. Frankie broke into a half jog, raising his arm in a wave. You sunk slightly in your seat, praying that he wouldn’t bring up your conversation with him last night.

“How’s your hangover treating you?” Frankie asked, taking a seat at the table.

“Fucking terribly,” you said, “this is not at all what I was promised last night when I did my fourth shot.” Manny snorted and turned to the waitress who had appeared at your table.

“Good afternoon, dearest Andrea,” Manny said.

“Manny, hun, you know I hate when you use my full name,” Andi, as she preferred to be called, said. You liked Andi, she a couple years younger than you and working her way through a master’s in engineering. “What are we all having today?”

“My usual, please,” Manny said.

“The greasiest thing on the menu for me, I don’t care what it is,” you said. Andy smiled at you in sympathy, knowing the tell-tale signs of a hangover. She then turned to Frankie.

“I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure of meeting before,” she said, her voice suddenly an octave higher.

“Francisco, or Frankie if you like,” he said. “Can I have the alfredo?”

“Of course, Frankie, anything else I can get for you?”

You and Manny glanced at each other, Manny with his eyebrow slightly raised. You knew Andi was a flirt, you’d seen her flirt with customers dozens of times, but something about this felt different. Personal. You chewed the inside of your lip, hoping your annoyance didn’t show too plainly on your face.

“So, what didyou do last night, lover?” Manny turned to you once Andi left.

“Drank too much,” you said. “Kurt’s out of town and Sara’s in town so I . . . I could go out. And I saw Frankie and his friends out.”

“Are your friends all as gorgeous as you?” Manny asked, turning to Frankie who blushed deeply.

“I wouldn’t say I’m gorgeous,” he mumbled, adjusting his cap slightly. “I’m just average.”

“Gorgeous and humble,” Manny said, “your partner is a lucky person.”

“I’m not- I uh don’t- I’m not with anyone,” it dawned on you that Frankie was terrible at taking compliments.

“Maybe it’s my personal bias, but out of all his friends, Frankie is truly the most attractive of them,” you said. You knew this could lead to something dangerous, but the chance to see Frankie flustered was just too good to miss.

“Yo-you do?” he asked, turning an even deeper shade of red. You nodded seriously.

“Whoever you date in future is going to be very lucky,” Manny said. Then, never one to linger on a topic for too long, Manny took a sip of his water and declared that it was feelings time.

“Feelings time?” Frankie sounded uncertain.

“Well, neither of us can afford therapy, so we use each other as therapists,” Manny explained. “We started it when I was working at Lou’s, and it’s been so long since I’ve had a good feelings time. Of course, you don’t have to participate if you don’t want to, and if you do want, keep it as light or as heavy as your heart tells you. Consent is key.”

Frankie nodded, obviously still unsure of the whole situation. It struck you then how strange you and Manny would seem to an outsider. Andi returned with food for the three of you, placing down the biggest burger you had laid eyes on in front of you.

“Enjoy,” she said with a wink to Frankie. “Come find me personally if you’re not satisfied.”

You could’ve thrown up at the blatant flirting. What made it worse was Frankie seemed to be enjoying it, smiling up at Andi.

“I’ll start,” Manny said, once Andi was gone again. “I’m feeling overwhelmed recently with my new job and the house renovations James and I are undertaking. We had a big fight over fucking tiles last night, and I know we wouldn’t have if I could just be decisive.”

“Does James know how you’re feeling?” You asked. Manny shrugged.

“I don’t know. I’d normally tell him about it in a heartbeat, but he’s been stressed too, and I don’t want to add to it.”

“He’s your husband, right?” Frankie asked and Manny nodded. You glanced at him in surprise. “Husbands should support each other. You usually feel supported by him, right? So why is now any different? His stress is your stress, yours is his. That’s what you signed up for when you got married.”

“Yeah, you shouldn’t be afraid to tell him what’s going on with you,” you said, realising how ironic that was coming from you.

Manny looked thoughtful as he cut into his vegetable stack. “You’ve given me a lot to think about. Now your turn, lover.” You groaned. Feelings time was fine when you were listening to other people, and when the feelings you had weren’t so messy. But you could filter your feelings, and you trusted the two men you sat with.

“Okay,” you took a deep breath. “Okay, I’m feeling like I want to end my relationship. I feel like I’m fucking miserable, but I also feel like I’m trapped. Frankie, you remember that friend I told you about last night? It’s actually me.”

“I know.”

“You know?”

“Yeah, it was pretty obvious, but I didn’t wanna make you uncomfortable by saying that.”

“Oh, my god,” you rubbed your face. “Right. So, like I said, I want to break up with Kurt, but it’s not easy to do.” You waited for one of them to interrupt you, when they didn’t, you went on. “For one, I don’t have enough money to move out. I don’t have much in savings at all because I keep needing to dig into it when he’s short on rent or money for bills or whatever. I don’t love him anymore, I don’t even know if I like him. Also, he said hedkillhimselfifieverleft.”

“Excuse me, he said what?” Manny leant forward, rage curdling his usually placid face. Frankie too, looked furious.

“He said he would kill himself if I ever left,” your voice was small. “I tried, one time, and-and he sent me a video of him tying a noose to a ceiling fan telling me it was my fault he was doing that. So, I went back, because I don’t want his death on my hands.” You realised with growing humiliation that you were crying.

Manny reached across the table and took your hand, holding it gently. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I didn’t want to bother anyone,” you said, “it was my problem to deal with.”

“When does he come back?” Frankie asked quietly.

“Tomorrow,” you said. Manny and Frankie exchanged a look and Manny nodded.

“If you let us,” Manny said carefully, “we’re gonna help you get out. We won’t force you into anything, but we want to help.”

“Wait,” you sat back, confused, “wait. Have you too been conspiring behind my back? How? When?”

“No, not til this morning. I gave Frankie my number when I first met him, in case he had any questions. Then he messaged me this morning, and we got to talking about how we can help you.”

“If you want our help,” Frankie said. Part of you felt like you should’ve been angry, but you couldn’t be. Instead, you were overwhelmed with gratitude, with love. You grabbed a napkin and dabbed at your eyes under your sunglasses.

“I think I want help,” you said finally. You knew you couldn’t do this without help, even though it embarrassed you to admit that. Frankie nodded, satisfied.

“Alright, we need to make a plan.”

Taglist: @hnt-escape @sharkbait77 @1800-fight-me @annathewitch @darnitdraco @frankiecatfish @punkerthanpascal @nakhudanyx @gracie7209

[tangledstarlight]

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

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

also on ao3!

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

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

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

Word count: 21,184

ONE

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

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

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

That was his dream.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Except that he does.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mostly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey, are you hurt?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

//

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

TWO

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

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

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

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

Some days he just wanted to run.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Carlos! Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

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

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

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

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

“Yeah I’m a fi—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s a date.”

//

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How long ago was that?”

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

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

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

“Can I ask what happened?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

THREE

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

//

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

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

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

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

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

“The hell happened?” he mutters.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You sure it’s okay?”

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

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

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

//

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So you want me to keep it on?”

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

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

“Keep the shirt on.”

FOUR

Luke really fucking hates working nights.

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

Which is his newest reason for hating working nights.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Until Julie.

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

Luke hadn’t told the boys about it.

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

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

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

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

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

//

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

//

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

FIVE

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

“Are you—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

//

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He just knew today was a good day!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They miss the third flash, and the forth.

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

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

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

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

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

+ONE

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

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

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

He doesn’t really know what happens next.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So they get it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

//

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

//

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

//

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[shreddedparchment]

Pseudo Princess Pt.22

A Worrying Revelation

01/01/2020

Pairing: King!Steve x Reader          Word Count: 5,595

Warnings: smut, smidge of angst, lots of fluff, blood

A/N: Happy New Year! Enjoy! Let me know what you enjoyed. And if you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work. xoxo

Steve’s lips graze your brow. With your arms thrown over your head, resting limply against your pillow, you’re wide open for affection.

His lips trail down along your temple to your cheek, your chin, then up towards your lips.

He lets his own hover over yours, warming them with his breath.

Then he moves higher and presses a small peck to your nose.

“Wake up, my sweet blossom.” He gushes, deep voice still thick with sleep.

He must have just woken up and rolled over to kiss you.

Your heart flutters sending tickles into the base of your tummy.

My tummy! You’re pregnant! You always forget. Just for a few moments while you’re waking up. Especially when your dreams are plagued by the truths of what your marriage used to be.

You smile as Steve traces the shape of your shoulder then slowly he moves closer to your breast. He tickles your nipple with his thumb and it pebbles underneath his touch.

He leans down, latching to it, suckling gently as your lips part and your body eagerly responds.

Steve throws your blanket back to expose your still naked body.

Clothes has hardly been worn since the two f you holed yourself up in this room to explore your renovated relationship.

“Mmmm.” Steve moans, wrapping his arms around you to hold you closer as he suckles your breast.

You wind your hands into his messy hair and softly caress the curve of his head.

He releases you but then trails sloppy kisses between your breasts, up along your neck to your ear which he nibbles on gently.

The scratch of his beard, growing in since it’s been days since he shaved, pimples your skin with pleasure.

You laugh, enjoying the rough sensation.

Steve pulls back to look at you, resting on his left elbow as he lays practically on top of you.

“What? Why do you laugh?” He wonders, tilting his head curiously reminding you so much of the stray dog you'd had as a child. Golden fur and chocolate eyes.

This puppy has blue and you’re happy to say you love them. Storm blues that gaze down at you in reverence.

Reaching up you cup his jaw and he leans into your hand.

“I miss your beard.” You admit, liking the feel of it against your skin.

“Oh.” Steve’s brow narrows. “I’ll grow it back.”

“I want you to be comfortable.” You relent. “You don’t have to.”

Steve smiles, crooked and beautiful and your heart nearly breaks it’s so lovely.

“I want what you want.” He counters.

“I want…” You think on it, then your stomach growls. “…oh.”

You chuckle, amused with your own body.

Steve however doesn’t. He springs up, rushing to his dressing gown to pull it over himself. He covers you with the silver sheets of your bed before slipping over to the fireplace where he pulls a long cord that disappears into the ceiling.

“What are you doing?” You ask, a little miffed that he ruined your snuggling.

“Feeding my loves.” He says, sliding back over to you.

He hooks his hand behind your head and kisses you dizzy. Then he pulls away and while you recover, he leans down and cups the side of your teeny bump making it visible through the sheets before he kisses it too.

“Good morning, my little one.” He coos.

You melt. Heart soaring. You smile.

~~~~~~~~~~

If Steve’s arms were the only place that you could ever be again, then that would be a good life lived.

They’re strong arms. And though you’d once feared them, now they are only gentle. Reassuring. He squeezes you closer, your head resting against his chest as it rises and falls. You splay your hand against it, gently tickling the fine golden hairs of his chest.

You find a scar, small but raised and faded. You trace it. As you move your hand around, you find another. And another. Each one you make note of but you’re too consumed by his presence to focus on them just yet.

He smells like smoke from stoking your fire, and raspberries from kissing you after you ate. There’s something else in his scent, something fresh, like mint but softer.

You groan as he squeezes you, relishing in his heated embrace.

“Why did you agree to do as Tony asked?” He wonders, pulling your dozing eyes open.

You think for a moment, trying to recollect the day that you’d made what would turn out to be the best choice of your life.

“How long have you been wondering?” You ask him, and he rubs your back with his left hand, his right tracing circles along your elbow.

The skin where the two of you are connected, knees, thighs, his hip against your pelvis as you rest your leg over his, stomach against his side, breasts just under his pecs—is sticky from laying so close for so long. Wet from the perspiration that several rounds of lovemaking has caused. Glistening from the fire still heating the room as the winter storm outside rages on. The snow hasn’t stopped once since it began to fall when Steve had first made love to you.

Steve hesitates, taking in a deep breath before he answers.

“Too long.” He admits.

You let that settle, wondering just what kind of woman he really thinks you are. There’s no doubt in your mind that he loves you. But…maybe he also isn’t sure of who you truly are?

“I did it because he asked me.” You answer honestly. “I did it because as his subject, it was my duty to do what my king needed.”

You think for a moment.

“I didn’t do it for money.” You assure him, turning your face up to look at him, searching for that uncertainty that you’re imagining.

When he meets your eyes, you don’t see suspicion. Just curiosity. He smiles down at you, reaching up to stroke your chin. He runs one fingertip along the curve of it, slowly, burning you with his touch.

He leans down and you meet him eagerly to give him his kiss.

It’s only a peck and when you pull away, he relaxes, and you return your head to its spot on his chest.

“I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone that thinks of money less when it comes to their own needs. But you do think of it quite often when it pertains to others.” Steve reminds you. “Your charities…the program you started for the poor in my kingdom has truly prospered. I am very proud of you, Y/N.”

His praise heats your neck and cheeks. You try not to smile but you can’t help it and you’re glowing with pride too.

“I hope it’s helped.” You sigh. “Truly. I know what it is to be hungry. I don’t want my people to feel that way if I can possibly help it.”

Steve is silent for so long, you begin to drift off again, snuggling in closer when he tightens his arms.

“Tell me about your life before you came to me.” He says, forcing your eyes open once again.

“My life?” You ask, drowsy.

“Yes. What did you do? You say that you know hunger…”

“Oh.” You realize what he’s asking.

He wants to know what hardships you’d endured before you married him.

“Well, I…I’ve been an orphan since I was about six? Perhaps a little younger. My mother and father became sick with the plague and were the reason there were so few casualties in Malibia. Because of their deaths, King Anthony was able to fight the disease much faster.” You think, trying to remember the next part of your story. “Then I…I sort of just kept living. Alone.”

“All alone?” Steve asks, his hands caressing the parts of you he can touch. A comforting gesture.

“For a while the lady in the house across from ours would come to check on me. Every day for almost a year, then her son got very sick and she came once a week. Then once a month. Then she stopped coming. Her son got better, and she never came back.” You still remember the lady. Kind but a little reluctant to take care of you.

“How did you eat?” Steve asks, sounding calm but you can also hear the shock in his tone.

“I didn’t sometimes. Other times I would sell a trinket or piece of jewelry from my mother’s small collection and I’d buy some bread and greens. But the jewels ran out eventually. Then the landlord came, and he took back the house.”

“You were kicked out?” Steve asks, his voice tight but controlled.

“I was given two options. Go to an orphanage or linger. I chose the latter. The Bright Rise was my only home. How could I leave it? I ended up finding an old broken building near the woods that had once been an old storage shed for firewood.

“I repurposed it as much as I could. Fixed up most of the broken wood and eventually got the holes in the roof patched up. I took the odd job here and there to buy a small mattress and some clothes when I needed it. I was…thirteen when they took the house. Within the year I was standing on my own two feet.

“Still hungry more often than not. Still cold in the winter, wet in the spring, baking in the summer, and starving in the autumn. But I was alive. I began to stitch again. My mother had taught me when I was little, and it took time to perfect my skill. I miss it.

“It’s the one thing I can truly claim as my own.”

Steve gives you a squeeze.

You look up at him to find him staring at the shirt you’ve been working on the two weeks the two of you have spent here at the cottage. The broidery stands out. Neat stitches that many would pay handsomely for.

“I’m yours.” Steve says, surprising you.

You smile and then reach up to smooth the wrinkle between his eyes as he frowns at your story.

“I should stop.” You whisper.

“No.” Steve asserts quickly, turning to meet your eyes. “No, don’t stop. I want to know you.”

“You already do.” You huff a laugh.

“Not truly. I know you as you are in our home. I need to know what made you as you are.” He points out.

“Nothing made me as I am. I just am.” You sigh, a little confused by what he means. “The old woman I brought to the castle was my only friend. I didn’t know her. Not truly. And many people in the village said that she was a witch and warned me to stay away from her. But when I was ready to give up. When I was so hungry that I felt I might finally die, she would feed me.

“Grandmother gave me hope when there was none to be had. She helped keep me going. If I owe anyone for my positive outlook on life, then I suppose it’s her. Is that what you mean?” You watch his face as he shifts through several emotions. Confusion, anger, relief, worry.

“Yes.” He nods. “I’m sorry that your childhood was so tough. If I’d known-”

You smile, nearly laughing by the beginning of his thought. “You wouldn’t have cared. You were with Margaret.”

Does he really need the reminder?

“I would have cared.” He assures you.

“For a lowly girl? An orphan?” You challenge.

“Yes.” He nods. “I would have cared that you were suffering. Perhaps I wouldn’t have loved you as I do now…”

He squeezes you again, as if the thought of not loving you is almost torture.

“…but I would have cared that you were hungry. I would have cared that you were alone.” He nods and you find it very easy to believe him. You’ve seen that care, that worry.

You shut your eyes as you’re overcome with the terrible thought of having found Steve someday as the girl you’d been. If he’d still been with Margaret, he wouldn’t have looked at you twice.

The pain it gives you makes you tremble, and Steve reacts to it, sitting up a little more and pulling you with him so that he can look at you better.

“What?” He wonders. “What is it, my flower?”

“I wonder what my life might have been if I’d never crossed paths with father. If he’d found someone else to pretend to be his daughter? You and I would have never met. Or maybe Margaret had never died?

“You would have still been married to her. You child born. We might have crossed paths in the road, and I would have bowed down as your carriage rode past.” You sigh, your heart breaking for some reason.

It’s silly, because you’re here. In his arms. This is your place. You’re his Queen and the mother of his heir. Yet, the image is so clear it chokes you with emotion.

With sorrow in your voice, you continue.

“You would have ridden past me and never given me a second glance. Perhaps not even a first?”

“No.” He protests, but it’s weak.

“Yes.” You nod, feeling his hand on the sides of your face as you try not to let your stupid feelings make you cry. Why does it feel so real? “You know that it’s true.”

He swallows hard, shaking his head not in denial of your words but hating your sadness.

“My petal…” He begins, but you don’t let him finish.

“And I…I would have married someone in my village maybe? Or Phin might have finally succeeded in his attempts to take me for himself? I would have been spoilt for anyone else and no man would have married me.” You shake your head, hating the image.

“What?!” Steve demands, pushing himself up a little more to take firm hold of your face and make you look at him. “What do you mean?”

“He tried so hard. He almost succeeded once or twice. But I fought harder. And he was very drunk.” You nod, “But he would have had his way eventually. And maybe I would be having a bastard instead of the heir to a throne? I would have been alone, until the end of my days, raising the son of a monster?”

“This is pointless, Y/N. Why are you saying these things?” Steve gasps, shocked by the weight of your words but also the way that you’re suddenly crying.

“I don’t know!” You sob, reaching around to wrap your arms around his torso and bury your face against his chest.

He wraps his arms around you, caressing the back of your head as he kisses the spot he can reach.

“Maybe you’re right.” Steve admits, nodding despite his disgust with the idea. “Maybe that is how thing would have happened, had Margaret never died. But she did.”

You feel terrible suddenly for making him talk about her when he’s been so good about not bringing her up around you.

“This was always where I was supposed to be. You were always meant to be my wife. I your husband. And this little one was meant to be our heir. You are my choice. You are my love. You are my future. I…I wish that Margaret hadn’t died. How can I wish anything else? I loved her.”

Steve’s admission makes you cry just a little harder, but he forces your face up to look at him.

With a trembling lip, you stare into his storm blue eyes, both of them boring into yours.

“But I can’t find it in me to wish that anything had happened differently. I meant what I said before, my flower. You are the rightful Queen to serve at my side. You deserve to stand beside me. You are my love but more importantly, you are more than qualified to rule our people. You think for them. You place them first even when I cannot. You are my one and only.”

He means it too. His eyes tell you just how much he means it. So much. It’s pouring out of him in waves.

Leaning down, he kisses you hard. All of the fear and glee that this is where you two find yourselves in life crashing down upon your lips.

You return his kiss, eagerly pulling him closer.

In one swift move he turns you over, laying you down as he settles above you. The soft mattress hugs you as Steve’s hand moves down to grasp your thigh. He hooks it behind your knee, hiking it up around his waist as he nudges the other aside so that you’re open and bare for him again.

There’s no muss about it this time. He slides into you in one slow glide.

You gasp, breaking the kiss, mouth wide open as Steve breathes into you.

He licks your lips and you search for his mouth again as his cock begins its impaling dance.

“Mmmm.” You moan into him, and he gets faster.

The slap of your skin, still sticky from your lovemaking before, is tantalizing and you lean to your right to look down at his massive body over yours.

His thrusts are fluid, despite their speed, and he buries his cock within your cunt to the hilt before he grinds then resumes his motion.

“Steve…” You whimper, and he grunts, tugging your leg more tightly around his hip as he flips you over again.

He lands on his back and you’re straddling him, hips temporarily unmoving as you fall onto him and he hits a whole new spot within you that shocks your body into quivers.

While his hands trace the shape of your body, wandering up to tweak your nipples into peaks, you wiggle on him, wondering just where to start with this new sensation.

“Move for me, my flower.” He instructs, then reaches back to grasp your bottom.

He pulls you back a little and you feel him slide out of you, just enough to make you shiver, then he pulls you towards him and fills you up again.

You curl in, wondering if there is any end to this feeling.

With his guiding hands, you move as he wants you to.

“Mmmph.” Steve grunts, throwing his head back, eyes closed as your body bends to his will.

The sight of him in ecstasy dries your previous tears but you still can’t move on your own. Your body is in slight shock.

You just need a moment.

Steve stops, tracing your sides up to your neck where he holds your head still so that he can meet your gaze.

“You okay?” He asks, worry beginning to paint his beautiful face.

You nod.

“F-feels good.” You stutter. “Different. I-I need a moment.”

Steve slides his hand back behind your head to pull you down and kiss you.

It helps clear your mind, his tongue exploring the soft pad of your own.

It takes a few minutes, but soon you’re moving on your own. Eager to get going again, you slide back as he’d wanted you to, and forward again.

He breaks your kiss this time, throwing his head back again as he groans.

He thrusts upwards and it feels so good you fall forward onto his chest, laying there as you break into pieces.

Mewling, you dig your nails into his shoulders.

“I’ve got you, my sweet little bud.” He promises, then reaches down to grab tight hold of your bottom.

With startling speed, he begins to piston up into you, hitting you over and over in that one little spot that makes you see white.

You’re a mess, trembling and shaking against him as he fucks up into you.

He pumps faster than he has before, and you don’t feel a buildup this time when you suddenly explode against him. Toes curling hard, you stop breathing as your mind clears, your body stiffens for a few seconds as he continues to ram into you.

When you breathe again, you gasp and shake your head as your body becomes overstimulated, twitching with each of his thrusts until he finally pulls you down hard against his cock and fills you with his heat.

He bites you this time, nipping your neck as he comes within you.

The two of you stay that way, catching your breath until finally Steve’s hands begin to stroke the length of your back.

“My flower.” He whispers, sighing happily before he shifts onto his side, taking you with him.

Face to face, he nuzzles his nose against yours.

“You’re mine.” He declares, no argument to be made—not that you want to make one.

And just when you think you can’t love him more; he reaches down to place his hand on your stomach.

“Mine.” He declares. “And I am yours. Both of you. No more talk of a life without each other. I won’t have it.”

He raise his eyebrows, waiting for you to respond.

“Agreed.” You breathe, exhausted again.

“Sleep, my flower.” He urges you, kissing the tip of your nose. “Sleep.”

Happily, you obey.

~~~~~~~~~~

Steve gets up while you’re sleeping. He watches you for a moment.

You look so peaceful. Your mouth is slightly open, your eyes shut softly. You’re on your stomach, right where he’d left you when he got up, slipping out from beneath you.

As he stands there watching, his heart aches. He reaches up to run his hand against his bare chest.

He didn’t know that loving someone could be this painful.

With Margaret it had been so easy. The only pain he’d felt was when he’d lost her. While he had her, every day was simple. Easy.

There was much more to make it complicated. His work, Margaret’s involvement with it. Their lives were more complicated and yet still their relationship remained straightforward and simple.

With you, things are harder. Not in a bad way. He wouldn’t give up this difficulty even if his life depended on it. You are his world and he would kill to keep you. Which goes against his very core morals.

How did you come to mean so much more than any other person he’s ever met?

He’s dressing as he watches you sleep, pulling on dark pants and a dark shirt. He pulls from his wardrobe a blue and red stripped tunic but rolls it up and shoves it into a seat where you can’t see it. With it he throws a tattered red cloak that still looks fine and expensive but torn and frayed at the ends with long strips missing around the front.

Dressed, he crawls over to you, hovering over you as he kisses the center of your back and trails soft kisses up along your spine.

You moan, waking up slowly until he reaches the back of your head where he kisses you and you turn to look at him, exposing your beautiful body for him.

He watches as you eye him up and he devours the sight of you naked and relaxed in his bed. Your shared bed.

With an echo of agony, Steve realizes that this is how it should have always been. From the very beginning, this is the life he should have given you. This is how he should have loved you.

Better late than never?

Brow furrowed, he settles over you as you wrap your arm around his neck and pull him closer. Your fingers find his collar and you frown, looking down to see he’s clothed.

“You’re dressed.” You croak, voice still thick with sleep.

“I have something I need to do.” He tells you, watching as the sleep threatens to take you again.

You’re awake but he’s worn you out. He’s proud of that fact. The amount of pleasure he’s given you in the past week has been important. He needed you to see that he could do that for you. That Thor wasn’t the only one who knew how to make you happy in bed.

You’re his wife.

“Right now?” You wonder, looking towards the windows to see that darkness is thick outside, falling snow still blanketing the ground.

“It can’t wait, I’m afraid. Don’t worry, my flower. I’ll be back before you know it.” He promises.

You sigh, hating the idea of parting with him so openly that Steve’s heart swells.

“Will you miss me?” He asks, allowing himself the pleasure of these intimacies with you.

This relationship has grown by leaps and bounds and he’s excited to be this couple with you. To show you off proudly. To watch you grow round with his child and to know that the world will see it.

You’re his. And he is yours.

You nod slowly, bringing your gaze back to his.

“I’ll be cold.” You explain, and Steve laughs softly.

He pushes himself back to sit on his ankles as he gathers the blankets of the bed and then proceeds to wrap you up in them. He makes sure that you’re covered from neck down, arms trapped underneath so that you can’t hold him anymore. Then he settles back over you, smiling wide.

Your eyes dazzle him, happiness radiating from them.

“There, now you won’t be cold.” Steve reasons.

“This isn’t what I meant.” You huff a laugh, and he could die happy, knowing that he can bring you to laugh.

“I know.” Steve nods. “But I do need to go.”

You think for a moment, your expression darkening.

“Please be safe.” You whisper, eyes more awake now than before.

“I will always come back to you.” He promises and leans down to kiss you.

Your lips are eager, lapping over his to taste him as he caresses the sides of your face to hold your head still while he gives you a proper goodbye.

The energy in your kiss begins to fade and he pulls back to see that you’re falling asleep.

He runs one finger down the length of your chin before placing one final peck upon your lips. As he stands, you’re already fast asleep, bundled up in the blankets he’s wrapped around you.

Steve stares at you for a minute longer before he takes his cloak and tunic and leaves you under Peter’s care.

~~~~~~~~~~

Steve had promised that he would be back before you wake and yet…he isn’t.

“Where is he, Peter?” You demand, irritated because you haven’t eaten.

“He might have been caught in the storm.” Peter reasons, moving to you with a tray of hot beef stew, bread, cheese, and a few fruits. He sets the tray on the table beside you.

You don’t know if you can eat while you’re this worried.

You put your book aside and turn to look at the food.

Practicing your reading is also exhausting mentally. You’ve become much better at all of it but it’s still a chore. And this library is so full of books. Old ones that your home castle doesn’t have.

This library with its multicolored tiled walls and floors, large fireplace to keep the space warm, and the dark brown furniture, the seats cushioned with plump orange pillows is by far the most comfortable room aside from your bedroom.

There is also a large set of windows to the South side. The focal point of the room with tall curving bookcases that line each side. Outside you can see that the ground is indeed covered with several feet of snow.

The white stuff continues to rain down on the castle grounds even now only it’s worse since the blizzard started. Now it comes down sideways, fast and painful. Ice piercing skin. The wind is biting. As soon as it hits you, your face is raw.

You hate it. Officially.

Before it had bee perfectly fine. But now? Now it’s keeping you from Steve and you hate it.

“You have to eat.” Peter chastises you, reaching to take your spoon to offer it to you.

You stare at it.

“He’ll be angry with me if you don’t eat.” Peter reminds you.

You stare.

“What about the baby?” Peter guilts you.

With a sigh, you take the spoon and fill it up, blowing gently before you shove the food into your mouth.

You’d been sure that you wouldn’t eat until Steve came back, but you’re shoveling the stew into your mouth with a fervor, the taste exquisite. The bread follows, and you dip that into the stew. Cheese broken off and placed into the hot liquid where it melts.

Peter smiles. Proud of himself for making you eat.

“Don’t worry, your Majesty. Steve knows how to take care of himself. He wouldn’t have left you unless it was urgent, and he’ll be back as soon as he can because you’re the most important person in his life now.” He says with confidence.

You lick your lips, loving the taste of your meal, but curious.

“How do you know?” You wonder.

Peter smiles. “Because before he left, he came and threatened me with death if I didn’t take care of you while he was gone. Take care over my wife and child. If I find them in a bad state, I’ll kill you.”

You scoff.

“He was being a little dramatic. He can get like that.” Peter shrugs. “I think he was just scared to leave you.”

You eat in silence until all that is left is your fruit. With a cup of tea to keep you warm, you nip at the apples and grapes. A slice of honeyed banana speared on your fork as you think.

“When will the others come?” You ask him, finding him watching the snow fall.

“Soon. I’m sure this snow has slowed them down. They should have been here tomorrow, but I think it might be another day or two.” Peter nods. “Do you miss them?”

You nod. “I miss Natasha most.”

Your friend, your confidant, your sister. You have so much to tell her. You can’t wait to see her.

~~~~~~~~~~

It takes hours for you to fall asleep. You toss and turn until you send for some chamomile to hopefully send you off to bed.

Sleeping in a bed without Steve after the two weeks you just spent in his arms is difficult. You want to be with him. You want him always at your side. Though you know that it isn’t possible for him to always be with you, you still want it. Desperately.

When you finally fall asleep, it’s a tenuous slumber. Every crackle of the logs in your fireplace startles you awake. Every whistle from the shivering wind outside force your eyes open.

It takes hours. Finally, you begin to drift off.

You’re almost asleep, the edges of a summer’s day dream begins to take hold when you ear a grunt. A shattering of glass as something—the vase by the doorway?—falls and breaks. You hear shuffling feet and the hot smell of iron fills your nostrils.

Eyes shooting open, you gasp and sit up, searching for the source of such commotion.

Your heart turns cold at the sight before you.

It’s terrifying but there’s also something very familiar about the figure as it stumbles towards the chairs in front of your fireplace.

The gleam of armor on its shoulders and on its head are what hold your gaze.

In his arms he holds loosely a round shield made of metal. On it is the insignia you’ve worn around your neck since almost the day you were married. Three rings, red, white, red, at the center is a blue circle that holds within it a stunning white star.

In this moment, you know without needing to ask.

The Freedom Knight… “Steve?” You ask, voice trembling.

He freezes, holding his side with his free hand and as he turns to look at you, your eyes find the spot.

It’s gushing blood, dripping onto the floor and seeping into the tunic and cloak he wears.

You’re on your feet, racing to him as he tries to reach out for a seat but misses completely and falls to the floor in a clatter of armor and shield.

You land with him, catching his head before it can hit the floor.

In a flurry of trembling fingers, you pull off his helmet and let it fall with a loud clang. The bottom half of his face is dirtier than the half he kept hidden, but his hair is everywhere, grimy, and his skin is sticky with sweat, dirt, and blood.

You shove his hand out of the way and press down hard on the spot that still bleeds. It’s a heavy flow and the paleness in his face gives you worry.

“This is what you meant when you said that you fight the evils of this world?!” You demand, angry at him suddenly.

He stares at you, reaching up to touch your cheek and leave a bloody trail.

“I thought you meant on the battlefield with soldiers and knights. Not your bare hands!” You chastise him.

He smiles. “I missed you.”

His eyes roll back into his head and his head lolls to the side.

“No! HELP!” You shout, knowing that only one person will be able to hear you. “Steve, wake up, please! PETER!”

As Steve continues to bleed out, you press harder, leaning down to rest your forehead against his. Willing him to heal.

“Don’t leave me.” You whimper and press harder.

[xxfanfiction-emo-trinityxx]

No Courage - Ryan Seaman x Reader

Summary: Dallon insisted on throwing Ryan’s birthday party at the Weeke’s place, when all Ryan really wanted was to spend some time with you

Reader: female implied? idk, no pronouns, i think...

Warnings: alcohol consumption

Word count: 5 031

A/N: as promised and several days late: the Ryan Seaman birthday story. Also can someone tell me what’s up with me writing for a Ryan, the story being 4000+ words and the couple ending up cuddling on a sofa? I just think it’s perfect.

Ryan was not entirely convinced by the idea to celebrate his birthday at Dallon’s house. He kept insisting that since it was his birthday, you all should celebrate at his place, mainly because secretly he had hoped for a calm evening with some of his closest friends, who he could discreetly ask to leave around midnight in order to get some extra time just alone with you. Because let’s be honest: every time you were invited over to his place, you stayed and helped clean up. Even though he probably would not manage to be honest enough with you to tell you why exactly he loved having you over so much, he would still have you all to himself for a little while longer.

But now this plan had been foiled by Dallon, who had decided Ryan’s birthday should best be celebrated at his house. Sadly, Dallon’s arguments were better than Ryan’s. The Weekes’ living room was huge and offered lots of space for many people, way more people than would have fit into Ryan’s entire flat, and this way it had been possible to invite a lot more of his friends. Also, since the house was separated from the neighbouring houses by the garden that framed the property, they would be able to turn up the music as loud and for as long as they liked, whereas in Ryan’s flat they would need to be quiet after ten pm.

Eventually Ryan had given into Dallon’s plan, allowing Dallon to throw the birthday party for him. And so he ended up in the passenger seat of Dallon’s car, at the evening of his birthday, with you in the backseat, as he got picked up for his own party. Dallon was focusing on the street, some quiet music flowing from the speakers as the lights of the city passed by outside. He smiled as you leant forward, poking your head to the front between Dallon’s and Ryan’s seats, and pointed to one of the buildings that was coming closer, randomly dropping a fact about the building’s history.

Just a few minutes later Dallon pulled into the driveway of his home. Since it was already dark outside, you saw colourful lights skipping around inside, reminding you Dallon had spent almost the entire morning installing some party lights at the ceiling. A balloon was stuck to the front door.

In the house a lot of people already waited for Ryan to finally arrive. He was welcomed with cheers and hugs, and Awsten insisted all of you needed to sing “Happy Birthday”. After Dallon and Breezy had made sure everyone had drinks in their hands, and knew where the buffet was, people started spreading around the huge living room and the kitchen.

While you knew most of Ryan’s friends, you were not really close with any of them other than Dallon, Awsten and Josh. But as your luck wanted, they were all busy talking to someone already, so you snuck to your favourite armchair in the Weekes’ household, and sat down at the edge of the crowd, watching them.

You had never really minded being the one at the side lines. From the people in the room, you were one of the few who was not a musician or in a relationship with one. Sometimes meeting with all of them felt like stepping into an entirely different world. Occasionally it made you lonely, because you felt left out, but at the same time you knew you were basically Ryan’s best friend, and even if that did not allow you to be as close to him as you would have liked, it was still a huge honour. Even if it meant receiving phone calls from him at 2am, waking you up, in order to talk to you about music or whatever was on his mind.

You looked across the room, where Ryan was playfully boxing someone in the arm. His hair had grown longer over the past months, as long as it had not been in years. He had absolutely no right to look as soft as he did right now. Brown strands were falling in his face, and his eyes were squeezed together from smiling so hard. You absolutely loved seeing him this cheerful and carefree, so you allowed yourself to watch him a moment longer.

Across the room, Breezy’s and Dallon’s glance wandered from Ryan to you, and back.

“What if we just say we’re renovating the guest room,” Breezy asked quietly.

“Have them share the sofa?”

She nodded. “I mean, they are absolutely blind about each other’s feelings, but sleeping on the same couch should maybe get them somewhere, don’t you think?”

“Better than having one sleeping on the sofa, and the other in the guest room anyway,” Dallon agreed.

“Good, I’ll just quickly lock that room,” Breezy said, leant up to kiss Dallon’s cheek, and hurried off.

In the meantime Dallon was stuck watching how you turned away from observing Ryan, and instead scanned the room again. The second your eyes had left him, Ryan turned his head, and gazed over to where you were sitting. This was ridiculous. Everyone, literally everyone, knew that Ryan and you liked each other, and it was driving Dallon absolutely crazy that you both were too blind to realize it, or too scared to admit it.

A couple of hours later, music was blaring from the speakers in the living room. The couch and armchairs, as well as the couch table had been pushed to the side to make space for people to dance, an opportunity most were taking. The amazing birthday cake, which Breezy and you had spent all morning baking, had been eaten almost completely, and only two small pieces on a plate on the kitchen table were waiting to be eaten by some hungry party guests.

After you had pulled yourself together a couple of minutes after arriving, you had socialised a lot, and talked to almost everyone at the party. But now you had gone back to standing in a corner, watching our friends dancing through the room. Laughing you witnessed as Dallon swirled Breezy around before he dipped her, making he giggle. Some of the others were dancing in pairs as well, the rest jumping around on their own or in little groups.

“M’lady.” Surprised you turned to find Josh offering you his hand. “Care for a dance?”

Laughing you shook your head.

“I suck at dancing,” you answered, speaking loudly enough so he could hear you over the music.

“So do I,” he shrugged, still offering you his hand.

Smiling, you rolled your eyes and placed your right hand in the left hand he held out to you, allowing him to lead you a little further into the room. Turning to you, he grabbed your hand a little tighter, and placed the other on your waist, swaying a little to the beat, and striking up a conversation. Most of the time he was hard to understand over the loud music, but you caught enough of what he was saying to chat with him.

You remembered having danced with him before, at one or two other parties, and how it had always been so relaxed and fun. He was not holding you too tight, not standing too close, he did not spin you around so much as that you would get dizzy nor did he spin you so little as that it would get boring. In fact you had simply fun dancing with him.

But still you could not help but wonder what it would be like to dance with Ryan instead of Josh. You had never danced with Ryan before, at least not in the way Josh was dancing with you now; and you probably would not be so relaxed about it, always feeling like you were behaving clumsily.

Ryan in the meantime had been talking to some old band mates of his, but when they went to grab another drink, and he had turned around, his eyes searching the room for your face as always, and he had found you were not standing in the corner anymore. Confused he looked around before he spied you dancing, with Josh. You were smiling and laughing at something Josh had said, and Ryan could not help but feel a sting of jealousy in his chest as well as his stomach clenching together.

He knew Josh had no interest in you, not romantically. But what if you were interested in Josh? After all he was an amazing guy, who even asked you to dance. It annoyed Ryan that he had not been the one to ask for a dance with you first. He had thought about it, and then always pushed the thought aside, hoping he would find the courage later. And now you were dancing with someone else.

What if you started liking Josh? Maybe it was stupid to think you would fall in love with someone just because of a dance, but then again Ryan had realised he was in love with you because you had smelled on some rose bush while you were on your way walking home back from some gig, and had asked him to smell the roses too, holding the stem of the flower so he had it easier. For Ryan that had been the moment he had realised he was in love with you. Maybe he should have said it then and there on the spot, confessing his feelings with the sweet smell of these pink roses in his nose under the yellow light of some street lantern, a couple of blocks away from your home. But he had not.

Instead he knew that sometimes it were the little things that made people realise their feelings; so if dancing with Josh made you realise you had feelings for him? Ryan did not want you to have feelings for Josh, he wanted you to have feelings for him. Not that he could change much about it once it happened, but he felt annoyed anyway. If only he had asked for a dance with you first, but no, he had been too embarrassed.

Downing the last sip of his drink, Ryan decided it would probably be okay if he asked for a dance with you once the song after the next was over. But as if a higher power was desperate to make him stick to his unspoken promise, Josh let go of you by the end of the song that was playing, and even though Ryan could not understand what was being said, it looked like Josh wanted to fetch a drink as well.

Without much of his consent, Ryan’s feet started carrying him through the room and past several of his friends, while the next song started playing, and before he was fully aware what happened, he stood in front of you, holding out his hand.

“Would you like to dance?”

Ryan’s eyes were almost black in the dimly lit room, only the flickering, colourful spots of the party lights ghosted over his face. His expression was almost unreadable, but he seemed nervous.

“I-“ Surprised you stared up at him. Had you not just fantasised about this, about dancing with Ryan? Why were you hesitating? Smiling shyly, you nodded. “I’d like to.”

Uncertainly you placed your hand in his, noticing how warm his fingers were as they closed around yours. Slowly he pulled you closer to him, close enough so he could put his free hand on your waist, just like Josh had done earlier. Why did it suddenly feel like you had never danced with anyone before? Hesitantly you placed your hand on his upper arm, not daring to meet his eyes, and allowed him to guide you into a swaying motion.

Damnit, you had been right earlier when you had thought about how you would be far too nervous while dancing with Ryan to enjoy anything. Luckily Ryan seemed too focused on himself, careful not to step on your feet or bump you into anyone, to notice your slightly-off behaviour.

When the song ended Ryan made no attempt to let go of you hand, which caused butterflies to flutter in your stomach.

Luckily, both Ryan and you started relaxing over the next few songs, while he made sure never to let go of your hand. He had pulled you a little closer now, his one hand on the small of your back, the other gently holding yours, as he danced with you, spinning you out occasionally, when it fit the spirit of the song, making both of you laugh in the process.

And when the next slow song came on, he stepped even closer, so close in fact that his chest was pressed against yours now. He snuck his arm around your waist, and when you shyly gazed up at him in a mixture of surprise and adoration, you found he was already looking at you. His expression was soft, and a smile pulled at his lips as he watched your features. A strand of his hair dangled into his eyes, and following an impulse, you reached up to brush it away.

Was he blushing? It was hard to tell in the dim light. He definitely smiled a little wider, his eyes not leaving yours for a second. It felt like you were losing yourself in them, every second you did not turn to look away felt like he was staring deeper and deeper into your soul, making your heart beat a little faster, and making you fall a little deeper in love with him. The world around you fell into the background, and everything but him stopped mattering. You would have done a lot to make this moment last forever.

But later, and you were not even sure how or when, you ended up sitting on the carpet in the living room. Most of the other guests were gone already, leaving only your hosts Dallon and Breezy with Awsten, Josh, Ryan and you behind. The flickering party light had been turned off, and instead two small lamps on the wall shed warm, yellow light into the room. The playlist had been switched from upbeat songs you could dance to, to calm piano music.

Someone had prepared a cocktail for you, a mojito with a little bit too much lime for your taste. The glass stood by your side on the carpet, while your hands combed through the soft, brown hair of the drummer whose head was resting in your lap now. How Ryan had ended up there? No idea. But he lazily held a glass with his favourite cocktail balanced on his chest. It was not his first cocktail, and you were pretty sure someone at some point had just handed him a new one without him asking for it, but it really did not matter. Not when you were sitting on the soft carpet in your friend’s living room, comfortably dizzy and slightly tipsy from the drinks you had had over the course of the evening, with the man you had admired and even loved for the past years resting in your lap.

Ryan’s head was turned to the centre of the circle of people, and he laughed quietly at something that had been said. It was pretty late at night already, you realised with a glance at the clock. Your eyes felt heavy and your brain like palp, which was not only due to the alcohol, but also to being tired.

For literally hours you sat on that carpet, talking to the others, and weaving your hands through Ryan’s hair, ignoring your heavy eyelids. Ryan only moved to take a sip from his cocktail every once in a while, and sometimes his eyes met yours, making him smile before he tore his gaze away again.

By the time both Josh and Awsten decided to go home, you felt stiff from sitting for so long, and laughing Ryan helped you up, pulling a little too hard, and causing you to bump into him. Quickly he wrapped his arms around you, and held you in place, nuzzling his nose into your hair while hugging you. When he pulled away, you found Dallon was waiting to talk to you.

“Ahm… we’re kinda renovating the guest room right now, so… I guess, you’ll have to share the sofa,” he explained, with a gesture towards the piece of furniture. “You don’t mind cuddling a little closer, do you?”

Even though you had been pleasantly sleepy before, suddenly you were wide awake. Share the sofa with Ryan? Not that you would mind, but never in a thousand years would Ryan agree on-

“I don’t mind,” he shrugged, still standing so close to you that you felt the movement of his shoulders, “what about you?”

Curiously he looked down to you, but you just quickly nodded your head, agreeing on the suggestion, while at the same time you wondered what the hell you were getting yourself into.

After Awsten and Josh had called cabs and left, Breezy carried a couple of pillows and a blanket down to the living room. Dallon had pulled out the cushions of the backrest, allowing more space on the sitting cushions for Ryan and you to sleep on. After you had quickly prepared the makeshift bed, Dallon and Breezy bid you good night, and went upstairs to their bed room, leaving Ryan and you alone.

Somehow you could not help but feel like you were more nervous about the whole situation than Ryan. He just grabbed the bag with his pyjama, and started taking off his shirt of. Quickly you turned away, feeling slightly embarrassed, as if you would have invaded his privacy, even though it had been him who had just started undressing.

Grabbing your own bag, you excused yourself to the bathroom, where you dressed in a pair of shorts and a t-shirt for the night, and quickly brushed your teeth before returning to the living room, where Ryan had put on some sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt.

He was sitting on the edge of the sofa, a glass of water in hand, and looked up at you with an unreadable expression. The thought shot through your mind of how wonderful it would be, if you were to see him more often like this, comfortably dressed in a pyjama, waiting for you to come to bed. Little did you know he was thinking the exact same thing.

“I’ll go brush my teeth too,” he mumbled, and got up quickly, grabbing his tooth brush, and walked past you to the bathroom.

Looking around you noticed there were still some of the cocktail glasses standing around, so you carried them into the kitchen, placing them next to the sink. You felt weirdly sobered up already, and with a look to the clock you realised it was no surprise; it was almost 5am, and you had finished your last cocktail at around 3.

When you walked back to the living room, you tilted a window to let in some fresh air, and turned off all of the lamps that was still burning but one, leaving just enough light to find one’s way around the room.

A few moments later Ryan returned from the bathroom. A shy smile was on his lips, as he packed away his tooth brush again.

“Do you want to sleep against the backrest or at the edge,” he asked, while clipping his backpack shut.

“I don’t care, rather at the edge,” you decided, “if you don’t mind.”

“I don’t,” he smiled, and crawled on the sofa, scooting as close to the backrest as possible to make space for you.

Nervously you noticed that even like this there was not much room, especially not if you were trying not to invade his personal bubble. Actually this would be impossible, you realised.

Deciding to ignore that problem, you laid down next to him, allowing him to pull the blanket Breezy had brought, over the two of you.

“Do you have enough blanket,” he wondered, tucking around at the fabric, trying to make sure you were comfortably covered.

“I have plenty,” you reassured him, pulling it a little bit around your arm to demonstrate. “You too?”

“Yeah,” he hummed, “can I turn of the light?” He turned his head just enough to be able to look at you from the corner of his eyes.

“Sure,” you agreed, nodding and cuddling a little deeper into the pillow.

With a click the lights turned off, and you were engulfed by darkness. Now that you could not see anymore, your other senses appeared heightened. Outside the window a cricket was chirping, the fridge was humming in the kitchen, and Ryan was breathing right by your side. The pillow and the blanket smelled of an unfamiliar laundry detergent, and the fabric was a little ridged, probably from drying outside in the sun. For a while you lay in the dark, eyes open. Through the room you noticed the small red light of the turned off TV. You knew you should try to catch some sleep, but with Ryan so close next to you, you were far too distracted.

All of a sudden when you had almost been sure Ryan would have fallen asleep by now, he spoke up.

“(y/n)?”

You hummed quietly, signalling him you were awake.

For a moment there was silence, before he continued.

“I know this is a weird moment, and maybe really unfitting, but I’m tired enough and maybe still tipsy enough to have the courage to say this, but I really, really like you.”

Your eyes grew wider in surprise, not that it would have allowed you to see any more in the dark room, and Ryan could not see your reaction either. Your heart started hammering, and your breath grew quicker, as you turned your head to the side, trying to see Ryan’s face through the dark. He was lying on his back, facing up to the ceiling. A tiny reflection gave away that his eyes were open.

“Actually,” he stopped, “no, scrap that. Fuck, I’ve been in love with you for so long and I’m just scared to tell you how I feel, and too awkward to show you subtly, and definitely not the type who could sweep you off your feet with his charms, but… I just figured we had a lot of fun tonight, dancing and talking and… it all meant so much to me. Like… I know Josh danced with you first, because I was too much of a coward, and I’m really glad you two get along, but I kinda don’t want you to like him more than as just a friend, because I like you more than as just a friend, and I know that just because I want it, doesn’t change anything if you don’t feel the same way for me but�� yeah, I know it’s awkward and weird, because you’re actually my best friend, and it’s kind of a real asshole move of me to tell you this while we’re supposed to sleep next to each other when you’ve got nowhere to go but… you know? Before my courage leaves me and all.”

You listened to him, allowed him to spill all his thoughts. It felt weirdly liberating to hear him talk about his emotions, so naïvely honest from lack of sleep. He was saying all the things you had dreamt of hearing him say for so long, and you could not help but smile when he talked about Josh. You wanted him to know that it was okay that he had hesitated to ask you for a dance; wanted to assure him that just because he told you in this weird situation of lying next to you in the dark, you were not mad with him; wanted to laugh at him because of course you did not like Josh more than you liked him; wanted to let him know that you could understand why he had never mentioned anything before. After all, neither had you. But you were too overwhelmed by his confession. This was something you definitely had not seen coming at all, so you were left entirely speechless.

Once you had finally processed his words, you turned to lie on your side. He was still staring up to the ceiling, and flinched in surprise as he felt your soft hand brush against his cheek. Slowly he turned his head to look at you.

“So what do you think,” he wondered, as if asking for your opinion on his feelings.

In the little light it was hard to make out his face, but the way you knew him, you supposed he was furrowing his brows a little.

“Can you kiss me?”

Your words were so quiet that you were not sure if you had even spoken them, not to mention whether Ryan had heard them, especially because for a few seconds he did not move.

When he did, he pushed himself up, supporting his weight on his elbow, and looked at you confused.

“What,” he asked weakly, his expression hidden in the dark.

“Just thought it would make sense, you know, if you like me and I like you…” you explained quietly, suddenly feeling almost ashamed for your boldness.

“No. No, no, no, (y/n), you- you don’t understand,” Ryan protested. “I don’t just like you, I… I’ve been thinking about you every night before falling asleep for… years, probably, I lost count. I don’t just like you. I love you. I love you as my best friend, and I love you as so much more than that. And I don’t want you to just kiss me because you like me, because I’m your friend. I don’t expect you to reciprocate my feelings, but I don’t think I can, or want to, kiss you without you feeling this way too. I just wanted you to know how I –“

You silenced him with a finger to where you assumed his lips were, an apparently you had aimed correctly.

“I wouldn’t ask my best friend to kiss me if I wouldn’t have been in love with him for ages, don’t worry,” you defended, trying to see his reaction in the dark, but failing.

For a moment there was absolute silence, even the fridge seemed to have quieted down all of a sudden. And before you even realised what happened, Ryan had grabbed the wrist of your hand that was reaching up to his face, and had pinned it next to your head, while he leant down, and crashed his lips against yours, finding them even in the dark.

At first it seemed like all air was knocked out of your lungs before you remembered how to breathe again. You turned slightly so you were on your back, Ryan leaning over you, his fingers intertwining with yours from the hand he had grabbed, while he used the other to keep himself propped up over you. Your free hand had wrapped into his nape, weaving into the hair and holding him close. He tasted of toothpaste and orange liquor from the drink earlier, maybe even still a bit of alcohol, all of it strange and intoxicating and so much more than you could have ever imagined. His lips were a dry, but still soft, like the skin on his neck and the hair that wrapped around your fingers. Ryan’s breath was uneven, just like your own, and you could feel his heart beat against your chest in sync with yours.

His kisses were urgent and passionate, as if he could not believe what was happening, as if he had to take as much of the moment as possible should it turn out not to be real. And if you were quite honest, you too felt like you could not believe it. Soon enough he nibbled at your lower lip, asking you wordlessly to open your mouth for him. You complied, earning a quiet sigh from him as he kissed you deeper. Like a lightning the sound went through your body, and a feeling of pride and satisfaction settled in your chest, realising it was just because of you that he had made that little sound.

All too soon your mind was a dizzy mess, and no matter how addicting and intoxicating Ryan’s kisses were, you needed a break. Turning your head slightly, you broke the kiss, but instead of pulling away immediately, Ryan pressed a short kiss against your cheek and then against your jaw, before he brushed his nose against yours, and leant back a little, settling at your side. Since it was so dark, it was hard to make out the details of his face, but you could see the smile that spread over his features. It was the kind of smile he was not even aware he carried, making it all the more beautiful.

For a while you just looked at each other, your eyes finally growing a little more used to the darkness around you, allowing seeing more details; the crinkles around his eyes, the dimples on his cheeks, the hair that fell into his forehead. Slowly his eyes started falling closed, no matter how hard he tried to stay awake, blinking again and again, and you too felt overwhelming tiredness pull you towards sleep.

“Can we cuddle,” he asked suddenly, his eyes already closed. It was a strange question, because you were already snuggled into his side with his arm wrapped around you.

Not answering, you scooted as close as possible, and hugged him around his middle. Immediately, as if he had done it a thousand times already, and in his mind he probably had, he tightened his embrace around you, pulling you so close that your bodies were pressed against each other. His forehead was gently resting against yours, and as he pressed a short kiss to your lips again, you could feel how he smiled, causing you to smile a little brighter as well, before you shuffled around to lay more comfortably, and fell asleep in his arms.

Taglist (if you want to be added or taken off, please let me know):

General: @recommendedattheprice  @robinruns @jayloverthe3rd @lookalivefrosty @butterflycore @starduststyx @angelevansfalls @vamp-void

[whereisten]

Snowflake - Part 1

Part 1

Summary: You’re moving into the world-famous Sakura Castle for the month and you meet its permanent resident: Yuta.

Pairing: ghost prince! Yuta x duchess!female reader

Word Count: 5.2k words

Genre: Romance, Angst, Drama, Fantasy

Everything around you was a winter wonderland from a very recent snowfall. Sakura Castle was adorned with Christmas lights. The gardens were full of primroses and snowdrops. Horse drawn carriages were coming in and out of the estate. The French Renaissance-inspired chateau was located in the city of Neo Osaka. This would be your home for the next month. However, you absolutely dreaded this time of the year. You didn’t despise the concept of Christmas but your family and their acquaintances had certainly done on a number on your outlook of the holiday.

This year was the first time you visited Sakura Castle to celebrate. The only thing you looked forward to was getting the castle to yourself once your relatives left after Christmas Eve. You lived a very comfortable life. Most people would expect you to wholeheartedly embrace it no matter what. But with this life you were bound to your family. And some of your family...Well, they weren’t the most exemplary people.

You longed to escape your family at times. Change your last name. Move to a new town. Get a job you loved. But for now, you were what many would call a pampered princess. You were expected to be an administrative assistant at your father’s tech company. Then, you would get married to a Robert or a Harrison from Connecticut and he would get a job higher up than you.

Even if you were more qualified.

You would quit. Have his 4 or 5 children. Take up knitting and French pastry baking. It made your blood boil.

You were finalizing your appearance for the evening in your dressing room on the third floor of the castle. Your princess suite was the size of at least penthouses in Manhattan. It was like a little castle of its own. It had its own personal library. A bathroom with a tub as big as a hot tub. A personal gymnasium. Two walk-in closets. A balcony that overlooked the gardens. A King-sized bed that made you wish sleeping was a profession. A lot of renovations were made to Sakura Castle over the years but its integrity remained. The artwork and architecture of the castle. The furniture that dated back to at least 150 years. The skylight in the ballroom. The multiple libraries. The music room. The study rooms. The paintings of the royal families over the years.

“Miss y/n, your face almost matches your dress. Are you feverish?” Your family’s maid, Helena, asked you as she helped flatten the creases on your ruby red ball gown. It was an off-the-shoulder sleeveless satin dress that you wished you could have saved for a night that you would want to remember.

You shook your head. “I’m fine, Helena. Thank you.”

“There are a lot of fine young men arriving, y/n. I envy you.”

You frowned through the floor-to-ceiling mirror. “No...why?”

“Because they’re your suitors. Your choices are the cream of the crop. You’ll land a Prince Charming for sure.”

You wanted to vomit.

Your mother entered your dressing room. “Drop dead gorgeous, my darling daughter.”

You forced a smile. “Thank you, mother.”

“Of course you would be. Given you have my genes.”

After twenty minutes of your mom lecturing you about how to behave and how to flirt with your...you couldn’t even fathom calling them this but what else could you call them...suitors.

Oh, wait.

Bidders for an expensive and highly sought-after piece of merchandise (you). Olympic athletes trying to get the gold medal (you). Customers looking for best piece of prime beef at a local grocery store (you).

This night wasn’t going to be fun. The only thing you looked forward to was the snack table when you would be able to excuse yourself to go to the powder room. Heaven forbid your nose was ever shiny in front of anyone.

You looked forward to getting to know Sakura Castle for the estate was a magnificent being in itself. You haven’t explored the castle yet since you’d arrived a few hours ago. Preparations for the Eve Ball had been underway for months and they’ve finally winded down to the last details. Servants walked in and out of the castle. Some bringing in ice sculptures. Others bringing in King Louis XVI chairs that looked too fragile and pricey to sit on. Not that you would ever find out as you would probably be on your feet all night.

You were escorted to the main entrance of the ballroom where you would be announced. The bidders better get their paddles ready.

“Announcing y/n of House Surname,” the announcer declared into his microphone. The French double doors opened and you entered the ballroom. You were met with applause. You smiled as instructed and proceeded to walk down the steps, thankful for the last few moments you had alone.

Because when you reached the bottom of the stairs, five men were already waiting to take your arm.

Harrison Roberts was at the forefront. “It’s been a long time, Lady y/n. Can I have the first dance?”

Lee Taeyong cut right in. “Lady y/n, don’t waste your time with him. He was flirting up a storm with one of the maids when I was walking in. You deserve to dance with someone who has no wandering eye.”

Jung Jaehyun shoved them both to the side. “Care to dance with a friend who kicked your ass in Jenga too many times to count?”

You didn’t expect Jaehyun to be here tonight. “Jaehyun, how long has it been?”

Jaehyun offered his arm and you took it. “Seven years?”

You remembered seeing him off to college. You two lost touch. He was a family friend that made these kinds of events less dreadful. It was great to see him again.

The orchestra played an awe-inspiring rendition of “Kiss Me” by Sixpence None The Richer. Jaehyun led you to the center of the dance floor.

He led the waltz. He spun you around and pulled you close and for a moment, you thought Jaehyun saved the evening. But then he said the next few words:

“Wouldn’t it be cool if I took over your dad’s company?”

You stiffened but still kept moving. “What?”

“We should get married, y/n. Our families would be over the moon. I can get my dream job. Your crush on me can finally be fulfilled.”

The seven years away did not do Jaehyun good. Jaehyun went on and on for the rest of the song talking about where you would have your honeymoon and how he was sure your dad would spare no expense to let you two travel the world.

You were silent. You could feel your parents steely gazes on you as they watched from their thrones...well, from the head table.

The song ended and Jaehyun bowed. You curtsied.

“If you’ll excuse me, I have to go powder my nose,” you said and quickly walked away. Thankfully, Jaehyun didn’t follow so you found your way to a part of the ballroom where a balcony was left unexplored. You walked out onto it and prayed for a few moments of quiet.

It was freezing outside but oddly enough, it didn’t bother you. You leaned onto the railing and looked down at the gardens. A spectacular fountain with a Cupid laid at the center of it. It felt like Cupid was giving you the big middle finger.

A stray snowflake fell onto your arm, quickly melting away on your skin before you could admire it.

You feared the snow would start and you would be compelled to go back inside. So you prayed to stay out here as long as you can. For any excuse. You sighed and plotted how to get to the snack table with little detection. Maybe Helena could sneak something out to you.

“For the belle of the ball, you seem pretty miserable,” a male voice started.

You jumped. You didn’t hear the balcony doors open. You turned to your right to find a young man leaning against the railing beside you. His pale blonde hair ran to his shoulders, caressing his face that was as elegant as a fairy’s. His skin glistened with the moonlight. Almost as if he was one with it. He was like a winter-themed priceless art painting come to life.

“You scared me,” you said as you put your hand to your chest.

He smirked. “Sorry.” Clearly unapologetic.

Shaking off the stunned feeling he gave you, you rolled your eyes. “Can you please leave me alone? I can’t deal with another suitor. Not this holiday season.”

He held his hands up in surrender. “I’m not a suitor, your highness.”

“Don’t call me that!” You started but then you tilted your head at him in confusion. “Huh?”

“You seem surprised. I for one am surprised your ego could be so big to assume that any male in your perimeter is intent on pursuing you.”

You blushed. “That’s not it.”

He chuckled. “Oh, it’s not? Then, what is it?”

“The Eve Ball is my parents’ excuse to get me a husband. Did you not see the turnout in there? Fifty percent of the crowd are eligible men between the ages of twenty and thirty five.“ And that was an underestimation.

The young man raised his eyebrows. “And they’re all here for you?”

“They’re all here for my family’s fortune. So no. I’m...an asset?” Hearing that part come out of your mouth sounded so wrong.

He frowned, seeming to regret his words before. “So tonight isn’t as romantic as you’d hoped it would be?”

You snorted. You couldn’t help it. “I never had any hope for that.”

“You seemed happy with that man you danced with. The pale one?”

“Don’t even mention him. He’s just like the rest of them.” Thinking about Jaehyun’s betrayal reminded you of how much worse this night ended up being than expected.

The young man noticed he’d gone too far with teasing you. “I’m...sorry. I’ve been messing with you non-stop. I thought you were another airhead heiress.”

“You wouldn’t be the first to think so,” you said as you fixed the creases on your dress.

He watched you as you looked down at your dress, He was mesmerized with how long your eyelashes were. How you smelled of roses and peonies. The way your curls fell to your cleavage. You met his eyes again and he looked away.

“Seems like a lot of people are wrong about you, Lady...” He began.

You interrupted. “y/n. No need for ‘Lady’.”

“So no formalities, huh?”

“They’re unnecessary,” you said. “Unless you’re royalty and you’re being modest. I don’t want to make another assumption.” You hoped this guy wasn’t a stickler for calling you by your noble title.

He shook his head. “Can’t say I currently hold a royal title.”

You were relieved and smiled without thinking. “Okay, good. What’s your name, then?”

“Yuta,” he said, beaming at the sight of your joy.

“Well, Yuta, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” The first man you’ve interacted with that didn’t want to marry you and wasn’t after your family’s wealth.

“The pleasure is all mine.” He grinned genuinely for the first time. It was a sight to behold.

“Lady y/n!” Someone called from right outside the balcony doors.

“Shit!” You exclaimed. “Hide me now.” You said to no one in particular. The only good time you had at the ball was about to end.

Yuta surprised you when he moved closer to you and held you.

“Yuta, what are you-“ You started.

He placed his fingertip on your lips. “Shh.” He shushed you.

Jaehyun came out onto the balcony. Kill me now, you thought. You didn’t know how Jaehyun would react to seeing you in the arms of another man.

Jaehyun looked around the balcony in confusion.

He looked right through you. In fact, he walked right through you as he looked past the railing.

You prayed you weren’t breathing too hard because being invisible had never felt so good. Feeling Yuta’s strong arms around you. Tight and secure. His body was so warm through his slim fit tux. His head laid on top of yours, teasing you that you were so short compared to him.

“She wouldn’t run off, would she?” He asked himself. He shook his head and headed back inside.

You exhaled when Jaehyun disappeared.

And then you realized what happened. You escaped Yuta’s embrace to look up at him.

“Yuta, sweetheart,” you said, laughing nervously, “What the holy hell was that?”

He smiled sheepishly, “We were invisible?”

You nodded. “Uh huh...I got that much. That begs the question...How?!”

He sighed. “I didn’t anticipate telling you this but...I’m the spirit of this castle.” He shrugged like he just told you his Zodiac sign.

You didn’t know what that meant so you shot him a look.

“y/n, I’m dead,” he delivered, deadpan.

You backed away. How could that be? He was warm and his presence just...glowed.

Maybe that glow wasn’t human like you thought.

Yuta continued as he snapped his fingers and a plate of your favorite desserts appeared on his other hand. He handed it to you.

You were torn between crying tears of joy that the holiday brownies didn’t run out and having a total meltdown.

You couldn’t be high. Your drink couldn’t have been spiked. You get your own beverages, much to the maids’ chagrin.

He nodded. “Come on, y/n. I know you’re hungry. One look at you and I could see the sweet tooth.”

You hesitated to reach out to him even though you were quite comfortable in his arms before. He handed the plate to you and you simply held the plate of chocolate-covered sin, focused on Yuta.

“You’re a warlock?” You asked. That much you could believe in because you always clung to the possibility of there being more than the mundane in this world. Even if it rattled you.

He nodded. “An undead warlock, if you want to be more specific.”

You nodded carefully. “But I...can touch you.”

He said, “Yeah, I can’t explain that either. You’re the first person in a century that could touch me. Which is why I had to meet you.” He looked at you carefully, then.

“A century?” You asked in disbelief. “Wait, when did I touch you?”

Yuta smiled. “I like to pop up around the castle every now and then. You bumped into me. You muttered something about ‘not missing your recording time’?”

You blushed. You remembered that. This morning, you had some free time before you had to prepare for the ball. So you wanted to record for your podcast where you just talked about everything and nothing.

You recalled bumping into a few people and apologizing profusely. You had no idea one of those people was a ghost. Much less the ghost of a sorcerer.

Yuta laughed. “You record? Music?”

You shook your head. “It’s a podcast. I talk into a microphone and record it. Post it online and people can hear it if they want to.” You had a decent-sized following. You modified your voice, of course. Your family wouldn’t approve that their high-profile daughter was posting about her inner thoughts and desires on the Internet. People always asked for your name and your face. But you went by the name Sunflower. It was what your grandparents called you when you were a child.

Yuta widened his eyes. “That sounds right up my alley. I’d love to do that.”

One look at Yuta and you knew he had a lot to say.

“Lady y/n!” You heard again. This time you had no time to hug Yuta.

You turned to him but he vanished. It was your mother, looking none too pleased. “Where have you been? Jaehyun has been looking for you for the past half hour.”

You sighed. “I’m sorry, mother, I...I needed some fresh air.” Suddenly, your teeth started chattering. Was it always this cold since you stepped outside?

Your mother looked down at your hands, seeing the plate full of desserts and frowned. She took it out of your hands and tsked. “That’s plenty of fresh air, darling. Now let’s go back inside. It’s cold out here! Jaehyun has turned into a fine young man, has he not?”

=

There you were, making chit chat with the Jung family. Jaehyun made no mention of the extravagant honeymoon plans or the kind of desk he wanted in his office. It was all smiles and fake concern for your well-being.

“y/n, can I get you something to drink?” He asked, putting on his best concerned boyfriend face.

You immediately shook your head. “I’ll get it myself.”

Jaehyun protested. “I insist. You’re a lady. A lady shouldn’t get herself her own drink. She should be waited on.”

You were about to speak up but your father halted you with the raise of his hand. “Son, please respect my daughter’s stance on this. We’ve insisted on it for years but she will have none of it. It’s best not to argue with her on it.”

The one thing your parents listened to.

And you’d soon realize that would work in your favor.

You went to the table where there unopened drink bottles (per your request) and poured yourself a glass of champagne.

You were surprised to find a strikingly gorgeous woman with long white hair tied in a French braid and a baby blue long sleeved dress. She looked eerily familiar. Her elven-like face was softer than...

Yuta’s..

“y/n, it’s me...Yu...na.” Yuta whispered playfully.

The woman before you was actually Yuta.

“Yuta?!” You whispered.

He...she winked at you. “Not bad, huh? I may just steal your thunder.” She spun in a circle, making a show of her sparkly blue dress.

You laughed. “Feel free. I’d love to see you slow dance with Jaehyun.” Only for Jaehyun to realize that Yuta was a ghost. And a man. But he’d be passed out on the floor before he reached that tidbit.

Yuta chuckled. “We must catch up...since we’re old friends from horseback riding lessons.”

Puzzled, you asked, “How did you know I...Never mind. What are you saying?”

Yuta took the glass of champagne you drank from and took a sip. “Your parents have to let you get away if a dead old friend wants to catch up.”

“You mean a dear old friend...” You said warily.

He smiled. “Sure.”

Yuta led you back to your parents and the Jungs.

“Father. Mother. Duke and Duchess Jung. Lord Jaehyun. This is my childhood friend, Yu..na.” Excellent delivery, you told yourself.

Jaehyun’s jaw nearly fell to the ground.

Yuta curtsied. “It’s a pleasure. y/n and I took horseback riding lessons together.”

“Oh, goodness. That was so many years ago I almost forgot y/n took those lessons. I went around saying you figure skated,” your mother said, oblivious to how hurtful those words were. That made everyone, except you and Yuta, laugh.

Yuta continued, “Yes, I was hoping to catch up with y/n. Just us girls. You see, I was recently stood up at the altar...The man was after my family’s fortune. But he found love instead. Horrible man. Shouldn’t have led me to the altar if his heart wasn’t in it. Makes me wonder why people don’t just marry for love...I needed to see my dear old friend. Talking to her helps me overcome this immense pain in my heart.” Yuta almost made you laugh with what were surely crocodile tears. You grew more fond of him when you realized he was making a slight dig at your parents.

And it didn’t go unnoticed by them either.

Your father cleared his throat while your mom downed the rest of her champagne. The Jungs were simply confused. Jaehyun looked at Yuta for far too long.

Your mother started. “Yuna, this ball tonight is for-“

“Mother,” you interrupted. “This is the Eve Ball. It’s for all of our friends and acquaintances to ring in the sacred celebration of Christmas, is it not?” Or was she going to admit that this was a mating ritual for her own daughter?

Your parents’ were taken aback. Surely, they weren’t going to admit the truth out loud for appearance’s sake. Even if everyone already knew.

Your father spoke up, “You’re correct, y/n. Well, since you’ve spent some time with the Jungs, you are free to spend time with your friend.”

Translation: Jaehyun was proposing when you returned from your holiday in Sakura Castle. You knew your parents were set on it when you saw how they never left the Jungs’ side. And why Jaehyun persistently searched for you.

You allowed yourself the luxury of relief for the moment, though. “Thank you, father.” You curtsied to the others. “Good evening.”

Yuta cheered. “Let’s go, y/n. Let’s bring out the Ouija board!” She squealed like a teenage girl.

Yuta was a little too convincing at that.

That cracked a smile out of you. She took your hand and you made a beeline out of the ballroom.

=

You led Yuta up the stairs to the top floor where your suite was. You opened the imposing double doors to your bedroom and pulled Yuta inside.

You undid the bobby pins so all of your hair fell free. You sighed in relief. That hair bun may have been one of your best hairstyles yet but it hurt like a bitch.

You checked yourself in your vanity and turned to see Yuta had reverted back to himself. His face was unreadable but uncharacteristically, he was silent. You jumped at his transformation back.

Yuta laughed. “What’s wrong?”

He knew damn well what was wrong.

You let a man you barely knew into your bedroom, essentially.

You faced him and got up the nerve to talk to him like you were unbothered.

And not that you’d forgotten that Yuta was a man. A ghost, yeah. But a man all the same.

The fairest man you’d ever encountered. “Thank you for getting me the hell out of there, Yuna.” You said his alias pointedly.

He poked his cheek and said in a cutesy voice. “I got your back, sister.”

You giggled a little too enthusiastically. You cringed.

He eyed you. “You okay?”

You sighed. “I’ll answer that when I get out of this dress.” You couldn’t wait to get into a Spongebob tee and some shorts.

Yuta whistled as he twisted your words. “I was going to be a gentleman but if you insist...”

You smacked his arm. “Stop it.”

He laughed. “You make it so easy, y/n.”

As you changed out of your dress and into your pajamas in your dressing room, Yuta waited for you in the library.

You joined him and watched as he picked a book off the self.

“I was wondering...” You started.

“Yes, I will stay the night,” he said with a lazy smile on his face. He flipped through the pages of The Shining by Stephen King.

“That invitation was for Yuna. But actually...How have you been in this castle for so long? I mean, it must be-“

“Agonizing. Endless. Despairing. I could go on. But I keep trucking along. I get to haunt a lot of the airheads when they come stay here. So it’s not all a big downer,” he said calmly.

You hurt for Yuta. All of this time, you thought you were trapped but meeting Yuta made you reevaluate your perspective.

Yuta noted the somber look on your face. He placed the book back on the shelf and took your chin into his hand. “Chin up, y/n. I may not be able to leave this castle but I’m a warlock who was has travelled all over the world before his death. And a photographic memory to boot. So if I wanted to go to Paris...” He snapped his fingers again.

Your room transformed into the sidewalk by the River Seine. The Eiffel Tower was across the street at night. It shined its brilliant shades of oranges and yellows. Crowds of people passed you by. It felt too real. Like this was truly present-day Paris. You looked down at at your clothes and you wore your favorite brand of skinny jeans and a plain white t-shirt. Yuta did as, well, but with a leather jacket.

Of course, he was a leather jacket guy, you thought.

It was spring time in Yuta’s manifestation but as it was nighttime in the scenario, it was a little colder.

Yuta removed his jacket so could put it over your shoulders.

Why didn’t he just conjure up a jacket for you?

Practically reading your mind, he admitted, “I wanted to put my jacket on you.”

Feeling very shy all of a sudden, you looked all around in awe. You haven’t been to Paris since you were ten but you treasured that time always. You visited with your maternal grandmother. She took you to all the patisseries your stomach could handle. It was one of the best experiences of your life. Growing up, you were closest to her. You teared up, remembering her and just being overwhelmed with what surrounded you. The hustle and bustle of the traffic. The faint accordion music in the distance. The laughter of children in the park.

“Not bad for a manifestation, right?” Yuta asked you as he proudly looked around at his creation. Then, he heard you sniffle.

“y/n,” he said, alarmed.

“Oh, no, It’s okay. I’m...happy. I love it, Yuta.” You wiped your tears with your arm. “Oh, look, crepes!” You saw a crepe stand by the river.

Yuta walked with you to the stand.

The vendor greeted you in French. “Welcome. How can I help you?”

Yuta replied fluently in return, lifting two fingers up. “Hello. Please, may I have two Nutella crepes?”

“So you speak French,” you said, preparing for another slick comeback from him.

“I can sing to you in French as you fall asleep, if you’d like,” he said quietly. No trace of mockery in his tone.

Caught off-guard by his candor, you sputtered. “You’re messing with me.”

Yuta shook his head. “I don’t mess around when it comes to my vocals.”

=

“Do you want me to shift it back?” Yuta asked after you two stared up at the stars together. You laid on the grass by the river.

“Not yet...I...Just a little longer,” you said, barely above a whisper.

Yuta continued, “You have questions.”

Sure, some quiet did you good. But you felt tense around Yuta. Feeling him so close to you. The rise and fall of his chest as he laid so close to you. Without touching you. It was killing you both, actually.

“You said you’ve been trapped at the castle for a century...You died there. So you must have lived in the castle prior. Were you a nobleman? If not, who were you back then?”

“I was the crown prince of Sakura. Before it was renamed to Neo Osaka.”

You turned onto your left side to look at Yuta and found he was already facing you. He pulled at the grass. “The Nakamoto family,” you said, recalling some of the castle’s history from your research.

“So you’ve heard of us.” Yuta met your eyes.

“The history books aren’t very kind, I’m afraid,” you admitted.

Yuta laughed. “Really? Tell me. What do they say?”

The Nakamoto family was the last of the royal line in Sakura before the country reformed. Sakura became a municipality called Neo Osaka. Nobility died quickly. Including any whisper of witchcraft.

“They called us devil-worshippers, didn’t they?” Yuta broke the ice.

How could you tell your new friend that his family’s name was dragged through the mud?

You nodded.

“They were jealous. The lot of them. My family had powers beyond anyone’s wildest dreams,” he said. You were surprised at how his words carried no emotion when they should’ve been spiteful.

“The books said your family was executed,” you quickly let out. Then, gingerly, you inquired, “But how could you still be at the castle?”

Yuta sighed. “You’re good. Getting to the root of my problem...My family wanted me to wed Princess Yena from Neo Seoul. Her family possessed the same powers we did. My parents believed that uniting our families would ensure the Nakamoto family’s eternal reign. Father and Mother were so excited to marry off their only son to a woman he didn’t love.”

And suddenly you had more in common with Yuta than you first thought.

“I didn’t want to marry her, y/n. I was young. I wanted to keep traveling. Meet more people. Improve my skills as a warlock. Maybe if I met Yena down the road, I...would’ve tolerated her as my wife. But as her family and my family pushed, I rebelled.”

Yuta began to shake. And with that, the illusion of Paris faded. You were back in the library, laying on the carpet.

You had a very bad feeling about this.

Yuta continued, “I planned to run and when I was about to, Yena and her family infiltrated the castle. In cold blood, before my very eyes, they murdered my family. My parents. My sisters. Our visiting relatives. All of my existing bloodline.”

You had no words. The only thing you could do was wait for him to finish this tragedy.

“Yena did the honors of saving me for last. And when it was my turn, she cast a curse on me. ‘Darling fiancé, may you haunt these halls for a millenium and remember how because of you, your entire family perished. You may never leave the perimeter. No one can touch you. You can be seen but can never have the warmth and affection of another’.”

You stood there, silent. Heartbroken for the man who stood before you.

He was quiet for a moment. You knew well enough not to say anything along the lines of “my heart goes out to you” or “that’s terrible”. You knew it wouldn’t do any good. It killed you not knowing what to do.

Because you wanted to help him. How? Hell if you knew.

Yuta cried silently, tears falling down and hitting your knees as you sat close to him.

You reached for him and wiped his tears away. Yuta looked at you and the most enchanting smile appeared.

“But you...y/n...you can touch me,” he rejoiced.

That puzzled the both of you. You didn’t know what this could mean. But it gave you great joy seeing how happy it made him.

“If that’s the case...then the curse is not all-binding. You may be the answer, y/n.”

No pressure, you thought to yourself.

Yuta lived with regret all of his afterlife and to find that you could be the key to his freedom...it gave him hope. He took your hands in his and begged, “Please help me. I need you.”

You didn’t know what you were getting yourself into but your heart was telling you that this was where you were meant to be. At this very moment. With this man who was too wonderful for words to describe.

You nodded fervently, “Of course, I will.”

Yuta thanked you profusely and kissed your cheek. You blushed and your eyes shot out.

Yuta apologized, “I’m sorry. I got a little excited, that’s all.” But you could see the smug look on his face. He liked having an effect on you.

You didn’t know this but from the moment Yuta first saw you, he was smitten. From your rose-colored cheeks. To your grace as you danced with that ogre Jaehyun. To the trust you two immediately had for each other in a short span of time. Yuta knew there had to be a reason why you were the only one who could touch him.

And that he was set on finding out.

To Be Continued

A/N: Hey it’s Ari! It’s been long overdue: a Yuta AU! When Yuta covered “White”, I was even more sure I wanted to write this. “Someone You Loved” by Lewis Capaldi served as a big inspiration. Shoutout to Krys for the inspiration behind the title of “Snowflake”, originally called The Winter Prince. I hope you enjoy! PS LETSLOVEYUTAONTHISBLOGALILMORETAEYONGISGREATBUTYUTAISJUSTASGREATKTHANKSBYE

[elementsbyksorbe]

"May all your troubles last as long as your New Year's resolutions!" – Joey Adams

After the decorations are packed away, many homeowners are eager to make some changes, and the Design Team with The Elements is ready with some tips for any budget or project.

The timing is perfect. A new start to a new decade! Holiday schedules are freed up, and guests have headed home. After the decorations are down and packed away, many homeowners begin to think about a change, and that change can come in many ways for any budget. As 2020 heads out of the gate, Kathy Sorbe, lead designer and owner of The Elements in Storm Lake and at Prairie Trail in Ankeny, has some ideas how homeowners can refresh living spaces that might need an update.“So many people think that restyling a space for a new look comes with a hefty price tag,” says Sorbe. “That’s just not the case. Editing and repurposing accessories … the only cost you might have is a little time. Bigger projects can come with bigger price tags, but that just doesn’t mean you can’t give yourself a new look no matter what you’ve budgeted to spend.”

Edit. Edit. Edit.

Sorbe says that when homeowners sweep up the needles, hunt down the last bits of glitter and store their decorations is a perfect time to step back and take a look at the accessories that finish the space. “Resist the pull to put everything back the way it was,” says Sorbe. “This is a great time to edit. All of us tend to display more than we need to and add, add, add. Look at what you have and plan to keep only what you love.”

Editing accessories and streamlining shelves will immediately update and smooth out a space. 

Sorbe says that accessories can quickly date a space. What was a must-have a few years ago may show its age quickly. She encourages clients to ask themselves, even if they loved something ten years ago, do they still?

“Channel Marie Konda, and if it doesn’t make you happy, it might be time to let it go.”

Paint a New Canvas

A fresh coat of paint is probably the most affordable – and quickest – choice for a dramatic change.

“Paint is the least expensive way to make a big impact,” says Sorbe. “Your walls function a lot like a canvas where a painting unfolds, helping your furniture, art and accessories shine.”

Sorbe notes that many homeowners gravitate to lighter shades, but deep colors are still magical, create a dramatic and sophisticated space and, contrary to a common misconception, won’t make a room feel small.

“We still encourage homeowners to avoid the traditional accent wall,” says Sorbe. “There are many amazing, innovative and affordable wall covering options, from thin brick, textured panels, wallpaper, to reclaimed wood.”

Several products are available at their stores in Storm Lake and Ankeny, but Sorbe says that many can be found at Home Depot or Lowe’s, and most can be painted any color. Instead of painting a wall a different color, Sorbe and her Design Team frequently recommend one of these products for effect.

“We like to say we reinvented the accent wall using texture and pattern.”

Let the Sunshine In

“Window treatments can be an intimidating project, but it doesn’t have to be,” says Sorbe. “Valances, fringe, sheers … they can quickly become complicated and a big design element that can be challenging to work with.”

Sorbe and her team almost always recommend a simpler option. Leaning into natural fabrics, like cotton and linen, they avoid many of the add-ons homeowners think make them look upscale.

“There’s not a window covering made that can compete with the view it frames,” says Sorbe. “Mother Nature takes this one, and we’re not going to even try and compete. We like simple panels, hung from the ceiling to the floor. This can make windows impressive but quickly fade to the view.”

The Design Team encourages homeowners to explore blinds, roller shades and even plantation shutters.

“We really love roller shades that match the window trim,” says Sorbe. “When you want them, they’re ready to go, but when they’re up, they disappear, creating a smooth finish to the space.

The Elements’ Ankeny location sells, measures and installs Hunter Douglas shades and blinds, with a planned introduction of the service to the Storm Lake location later this year.

“Shades are a great option for privacy and light control, and some are even designed to aid in maintaining a preselected temperature in your home,” says Sorbe. “Many are motorized with remote controls that can integrate into smart home systems.”

Painting is the quickest and most affordable way to make a big change in a room. White paint, paired with matching cabinets, allows the gold accents to really shine. 

Bedding in natural fabrics, like linen and cotton, are a simple palette that allow homeowners many options for coordinating pillows and throws.

From small windows to large-scale projects, Hunter Douglas is a premiere name in window coverings.

Invest in the Best

A survey completed by ten major interior design firms indicated a turn back to more custom furniture. Millennials, who frequently were bargain shoppers, are now gravitating to higher quality, large pieces instead of furniture that’s designed and priced for a very short life. Also, homeowners don’t have to adapt or settle; they can choose exactly what they want.

“Custom-made furniture tends to be more stylish, and it’s made just for you,” says Sorbe. “You won’t walk into a neighbor’s house and see the same sofa!”

Literally thousands of fabric choices and the introduction of designer performance fabrics mean shoppers can pick exactly what they want, and that the custom piece will hold up to use for many years to come.

“Instead of short-term costs, we like to remind clients of the long-term value,” says Sorbe. “Custom pieces tend to be more durable, and, if carefully selected, homeowners will enjoy these pieces for years and years.”

Sorbe cautions people not to assume custom pieces are outside of their budget. Shoppers are frequently surprised when they see prices on custom pieces less expensive than factory-produced pieces in big box furniture stores. 

Homeowners looking to capitalize on space are looking for usable living areas outside.

Think Big

Sometimes, homeowners want a big change. Additions, renovations and remodels can be daunting projects; however, they can move more smoothly working with a pro.

“Working with a designer from our Design Team isn’t too expensive for anyone,” says Sorbe. “Often, homeowners want to schedule a one-hour consultation just to get some ideas and suggestions. We love helping at any stage of the project.”

She suggests talking with the Design Team early in the process, which can help homeowners avoid costly mistakes that delay the project. The designers also have access to many different lines with varying price points. Homeowners would have to shop for weeks, maybe longer, to see the merchandise the Elements’ team can show them in an hour. 

Silhouette shades are designed to see out, but when closed, provide privacy and light blocking. Retracted, the shade and hardware disappear for an unencumbered view outside. 

Summer’s on the Way

Even though we’re not seeing any green grass outside doesn’t mean it’s too early to start thinking about an outdoor living space.

“It will be spring before you know it, and there’s nothing we like better than unveiling our outdoor furniture, which will be in the store soon,” says Sorbe. “It can be anywhere from a six- to eight-week lead time for custom pieces, so if your resolution to refresh is happening on your patio or deck, it’s not too soon to start planning.“

Sorbe suggests bringing in the shape and dimensions of your outdoor space so the Design Team can create scaled renderings. Furniture placement – even the location of pots, side tables and outdoor lamps – is decided before the snow melts, and the homeowner knows exactly how the outdoor space will come together.

“If we have the dimensions and details, like doors or window placement, we create scaled drawings of layout options and furniture placement, not just for outdoor spaces but for any room in a client’s home,” says Sorbe. “We’re all visual, so being able to see how the room will be arranged … touching and feeling the fabric … really helps our clients make the best choices.”

Performance fabrics, like Sunbrella, and specially designed cushions mean outdoor living furniture rivals the best indoor pieces in comfort, style and durability.

To “see” how your space can come together, schedule a consultation with the Design Team at The Elements in Storm Lake or at Prairie Trail in Ankeny.

[ask-ohmtoonz]

Endless Ambition - Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Recruits

The brothers made their way to Zero, easily scaling the 30ft fence, eager to meet their friends and converse with everyone else, hear the interesting stories of the higher up thieves. Jonathan pushed the door open and walked in, keeping the door open for his younger brother who shyly followed, almost hidden in his brothers shadow again. Zero was amazing, the inside of the warehouse had been renovated so that it was full of picnic tables and off the the corner of the room was full of bean bags, probably for the exhausted thieves back from their missions, or for some drunk thieves, needing to sober up. By the bar was a door to a supply room, which was full of different supplies, like clothes, food, drink and some weapons, the floors were constantly cleaned, keeping the rather new tiles fresh, as well as the staircase to the dorms, however, at the very top of Zero’s attic was their leader’s room.

Almost immediately, Ryan was grabbed by someone and lifted up in air, staring up at a large beast like male, he was part elephant, two large tusks protruding next to the man’s mouth, as well as a small little elephant tail, the man was huge, a perfect example of one of the tank thieves, Gorilla had tinted purple skin, with perfect brown eyes. The man grinned brightly, “Ohm! You’ve grown so much since i last saw you!” He bellowed, not worried about being loud, since everyone was already used to his loud attitude.

Ryan giggled and hugged his taller friend, he hadn’t seen him in months, since he was out on a mission on the other side of town. “Gorilla!” He cheered, barely able to wrap his arms around the older man’s thick muscles. “It's been months! How was your mission?” he asked eagerly.

Gorilla laughed and set the smaller man down, ruffling his hair and grinning proudly, “Yeah, It was a huge success!” He grinned, proudly puffing out his chest, making Ryan giggle and drag him towards one of the vacant tables.

“Tell me everything!” the smaller thief begged, sitting down and practically vibrating with excitement. Gorilla laughed and smiled. Setting himself down and beginning to explain everything about how he was able to sneak past hundreds of guards and break into the mob-boss’s home.

----

It had been maybe two or three hours of Ryan bonding with Gorilla, the tank had given Ryan something that he rarely ever got to experience, the love of a "father". Ryan’s dad had neglected him since birth, blaming his own son for the death of his wife. He often didn’t feed Ryan and “accidentally” left him locked outside during the winter or summers. Jon had to supply Ryan with the nessacaties, teaching him how to read, write and even more thief based skills like pick-pocketing and wall running (which ryan still couldn’t properly do).

Gorilla filled that void, he gave him fatherly love that his actual dad never gave him. Gorilla didn’t mind the fact that ryan viewed him this way, he even referred to Ryan as his “son” which, greatly displeased Jonathan.

Jon believed that their dad was a decent person, of course neglecting his child was a horrible thing to do but, his wife had died during labour, that would obviously give his father problems with the child. He had seen his father hold Ryan in gentle embraces, crying on his shoulder when he couldn’t handle his own emotions. It hurt Jon, it really did. But for Ryan’s sake? He’d keep quiet.

The “leader” of Zero walked in, he was a rather small thief, with a large, white hood equipped with a cape, the thief was muscular and loud, he often spent time with the thieves, not wanting them to think he was an egotistical, loud mouth that only cared about himself, he even hated the idea of being dubbed, the “leader” of Zero, since that title felt so vain, he prefered “founder” but everyone commonly referred to him as his name, Marcel.

Marcel was incredibly skilled, with lightly tanned skin and piercing brown eyes. Marcel was cheerful and optimistic, even when threatened with failure, he charged into it head first, amazing everyone as he fought his way to the top, with a bright, goofy smile on his bruised and bloody figure.

Marcel stood to the front of the Zero, letting the crowd cheer, before silencing themselves. “I’m glad to see you all here again, i'm even more excited to see some familiar faces,” He said, glancing at Gorilla with a smile. “You’ve all grown so much since joining Zero, Makes me feel like a dad,” he said, ‘wiping’ proud tears from his eyes, which earned a few amused laughs.

The roof of the warehouse opened up slightly, which made Ryan gasp excitedly as Marcel continued, “So, I hope you all nurture and respect our new recruits!” He cheered, the roof opened up fully and three new forms jumped down from the ceiling, they landed perfectly, their knees bent to lessen the blow on their ankles.

They were all of different height and stature, one was rather small and timid, two small antler’s prodding out from his head, he was a medic, it was almost obvious, he had little muscles and very gentle facial features, Zero went through medics rather quickly, since lower ranked thieves were often careless and tortured their body to succeed in their missions.

The most confident looking one, wasn't.. Human so to say, half of his face was metal, a red, glowing eye seemed to analyse the crowd, he was ripped, buff muscles that seemed to cover his form, he had a small, barely noticeable smile when he realised that he had made an effective first expression, behind his back, the tip of a sniper rifle was just noticeable, maybe he was a hitman? Or a guard, it was hard to tell.

The last recruit had stumbled on his landing slightly, he was wearing fashionable clothes, his eyes hidden by stylish 3D glasses, he fixed his posture quickly. He had no amazing muscles, but he was calm, collected, a very faint grin on his pale face. He was spinning a small dart between his fingers, which was new, Ryan had never seen anyone use darts in Zero before, it was too, difficult, you would need a perfect aim and be able to quickly rip the darts out of whatever surface they were stuck in, just to be armed again.

Marcel grinned and walked over to the three, pulling them closer so that they were squished into his side, which made the medic squeak in surprise, his antlers jutting into the possible hitman's face. The man with the darts was quick to return the sudden affection, slinging his arm over Marcel’s shoulders.

“Please, give a warm welcome to our new recruits!” Marcel requested, smiling brightly as Zero erupted into applause, loud clapping and whistles filled the room.

Once the cheers had died down, Marcel gently let the recruits go, heading towards the shy medic first, “So, Recruit number one, tell everyone your name, role, and a little bit about yourself, if you don't mind,” He said calmly.

The first recruit nodded and shyly shifted the weight on his feet, “My name is Moo, I’m a medic that was shut down by every possible hospital i could find, When i heard about Zero, I was immediately drawn to the place, the idea of such a hopeful and vibrant community sounded like a dream, I’m so grateful to be here,” he rambled softly.

Marcel smiled and ruffled Moo’s head, before stepping towards the half human half man, “Thank you so much, Moo! Now, what about you, Mr. robot?”

The man seemed surprised about the nickname, “Half robot,” He corrected bitterly, “My name Is Terroriser, I’m a professional sniper, I heard rumours about Zero and decided to try and follow up with it, I thought the standards were higher than they originally were, but if i managed to get in? Anyone can.” he joked.

Marcel laughed, “Yeah, Yeah, don’t make fun of my gratitude,” He teased, before heading to the final one. “And you? Gotta have a good aim for those darts, mr.”

The man blushed shyly, his cheeks reddening, looking towards the crowd and nodding slowly, “Uh, Yeah, My name’s Smitty, I don't use these darts for fighting.” he said softly, “I’m a hunter, i track scents and find the target for whoever comes by to pay me,” he said, “But that didn't feel like it was my destiny, all of my kind has something to accomplish, I hope Zero helps me find it,” he said softly, playing with his fingers.

Marcel smiled and nodded, “Well, I hope we can help as much as possible, Smitty,” He then faced the crowd again, “Drinks are on the house, Tonight we celebrate!” He yelled out, making Zero burst into another round of approval.

[dbhilluminate]

DBHI: Redemption- "The Open Door", pt. 4

ARE YOU A FAN OF DETROIT? DO YOU LIKE GAY SHIPS AND COMPLICATED, LOVEABLE BOYS?? Then please keep up with our fic, you’ll love it, I promise!

(Chapter art by dark_dumb)

**Co-authored by grayorca15

Characters: Trevor Langley, Dennis Lenore, Vivienne Lenore-Anderson, Cassandra Carter, (mentions of Dylan Fleur, Spencer, Connor, Zach) Word Count: 8,335

• Archive link • Chapter Index • • Related Works • Characters •

Previous Chapter

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July 4th, 2041 - 10:56PM

The ride home was just as insufferable as the commute out, if not more so. Dennis hadn’t been able to contain the infectious grin for longer than ten minutes before he’d started prodding him with invasive questions and observations. Then it was one after another after another, like a conga-line of aggravation. You seem a lot more relaxed now than you did earlier. Looks like the two of you really hit it off. Did you have fun? What do you think? Are you gonna visit again? You should, it’d really do you both some good. On and on and on and on he went, so long-winded that after a certain point, Trev turned off his audio receptors just so he could hear himself think. The last thing he wanted while he was trying to decompress and process everything he had learned about Dylan Fleur, was to have another beyond-redundant, one-sided ‘I told you so’ conversation with Lenore, however good his intentions had been.

Thinking on how ‘successful’ the setup was just made him want to deny everything before he could even acknowledge it, but it was a little late for second thoughts now. Infantile as said appreciation was for Dylan’s tireless tenacity and ass-backward definition of tact, he couldn’t deny that his company still had more going for it than the lonely apartment awaiting him could offer. It had taken a new experience to really put into perspective how empty he felt without someone to talk to, just as being outed as an Android had irreversibly altered everything he thought he knew about himself, where he fit into the world, and his reason for being at all. It wasn’t all bad though. Dylan was a far better person for catalyzing the revelation the way he had (namely because no one needed to die to reveal it), even if it meant suffering a few inquisitional phases. Good-intentioned people or not, most went about asking the wrong way entirely, their fixated earnestness feeling more grating than gratifying in his twisted-up mind (with the exception of Dennis, whose brusque and authoritative approach Trev didn’t mind half as much). But not Fleur. Even though he’d had his moments where he’d crossed the line of what were and weren’t acceptable topics of conversation, Trev did have to give him credit for backing off at the first sign of severe discomfort. Most wouldn’t have taken the hint, most would have kept pushing for an answer to sate their own curiosities. Compared to the humiliation of admitting to someone ‘I believed I was human until about five months ago’ and being outright laughed at, shots from rubber bands and paint balloons were a small nuisance to endure for the sake of a little company; and it had eventually ended with Fleur making the effort to clean up the mess he’d made of him, inside and out. In that case specifically, he supposed some nuisances were better than none at all, if they made him feel important and not forgotten. Dylan had done well enough to make sure of that, compared to those at the academy who assumed he his status within Archangel to be higher than it was.

Truth was, RK800 or not, Trev was simply a nobody with a famous pedigree and a unique circumstance. Having virtually the same face as Connor or Zach or any other primaries he had met, had done him no favors to endear him to them. Contrary to popular belief, it hadn’t netted him any special perks- it hadn’t nabbed him the biggest dorm room in the building, a department-issued ride, or an all-access pass to Illuminate archives. Not even Spencer had made any qualms about the similarities in their appearance, just deflected it when others asked, saying he was simply ‘modeled after him’. The falsified story was that Spencer had been designed to resemble Trev, and not vice versa. What a crock that turned out to be.

Thinking of Spencer immediately sobered him, amidst musing over how quiet and empty his living space was. The shower he had intended to take didn’t feel so important, once he’d made it home. His desire to do so had gone by the wayside after he bid Dennis farewell, apologized again for leaving him with a blotchy suit to dry clean (as the detective insisted on doing, no less than three times), and closed the door. Trev’s mind was quickly turning into someplace he’d rather not be, and a shower would only open the floodgates for more stray thoughts to find their way in. He could still spare another hour before tending to end-of-day maintenance if it meant dodging that potential breakdown for a little longer. Langley paused at the door as it closed behind him and took a glance around the room. The dorms weren’t short on repurposed refuse, being the old disused apartment complex it once was. Most of the units hadn’t been cleared of what had been left behind by previous tenants, except to make room for new beds. City renovation crews had made sure the building was up to code before allowing anyone to live in it again. Holes in the walls and ceilings had been patched, water and electricity restored to working order, the dingy walls cleaned and repainted, the floors resurfaced where needed, and the building tented to get rid of unwanted pests. Archangel had done the rest to supply whatever their students needed- thirium or other necessary fluids, plus tools and parts required for maintenance could be found in the commissary on the first floor, free of charge. Had he been housed here without such a drastic revelation to expose his android heritage (and shatter the façade of being human), he may have bought into it, simply based on the facts that he had never starved or asked where the bathroom was. Short term memory pre-constructs had once filled the gaps were such inconsistencies would have stood out, but with his awakening had come the loss of the need for such subroutines to execute, leaving him with the fallout of constant reminders that he was not what he once thought. And because of that, it had and hadn’t been easy to adjust to life in Zion (Detroit’s newly established Android suburb). Being surrounded by so many other androids who had developed their own semblance of society, and a number of like-minded humans helping them find their feet, wasn’t what bothered him. What he had such a hard time dealing with was being faced with all that he didn’t do, but once believed he did.

Trevor paced across the tiny room and brushed his fingertips over the desk by the window, opened the single drawer and sifted through what few provisions his study desk contained that weren’t technical in design, seeking just what Dylan had suggested: an outlet, something to keep his hands busy while his mind churned away. As fate would have it, its previous owner had left behind a few pencils and some old sheets of blank, yellowing stationery that crackled loudly to the touch. He’d never used something as archaic as this, but seeing the drawings on the walls had him curious to see what it would feel like to drag the graphite across the page, and what it might yield. Trev reached for the items, set them out on the table, flipped on the desk lamp and sat down to find out, if only to get the whim to do so out of his system before it manifested into something that couldn’t be ignored. Idly, he scratched the dull point of the pencil back and forth over the scrap paper and thought again on Dylan’s offer about the door being ‘always open’. So far, he had nothing but reason to believe it was genuine- the boy had made it abundantly clear that he would have liked to see him come around again. So if by some miracle he’d just been leading him on, did he really have much to lose in taking him up on it, aside from maybe a little peace of mind? The subtle vibration from the toothy drag of graphite against paper was weirdly soothing. Even if it wasn’t exactly productive, it was still a nice break from doing digital coursework for a job he already knew how to perform back to front, with the exception of a few changes unique to Zion law. For the most part, Archangel had imported Detroit’s Law Enforcement standard and Municipal Law as it was; but due to the nature of its Android population, some laws had been added or amended appropriately. It would have been easy enough just to give him a list of the differences and significantly cut back on his time in the academy. But after nearly three months of no police work after a psychotic break, Sarah decided that a full course would serve him well as a refresher, in addition to helping him fit in with the other cadets. Some days Trev envied them, as one might through a pane of glass. What he wouldn’t give to be just another starry-eyed pupil of law enforcement, fresh and green and running only with a want to learn. All he knew -apart from what he wasn’t- was law enforcement, even if his blue-blooded heart just wasn’t in it the way it once was. He was supposed to want to help others (‘Protect and Serve’ and all that jazz), but considering the mental condition he was in these days, it would have been better for everyone if he’d just bothered to help himself first. At some point, he would have to become self-sufficient, take charge of whatever his life was outside the job, and learn how to become more personable. Everyone was saying as much, in their own way… but why did it have to be such a hurdle?

“That blasted-” Five minutes later he conceded exactly what he was drawing with a scathing glare, the android sighed, swept it off the desk and listened to it flutter to the floor. What began as two symmetrical circles had turned into a macro study of a pair of eyes. Even without any color attributed to them, the sly slant of them, the svelte lashes, and the freckles peppered around the sockets could only belong to one person. The worst of it was that he hadn’t even given much conscious thought to what his hand would draw; but as he detuned from the world for a few moments, it was the defining characteristic of his would-be associate he was invariably drawn toward. The magnetism was at work, even at a distance, and couldn’t let him forget even for a few minutes. Fighting it would be more of a headache than simply letting it be, and therein lay the problem. It was going along with what seemed like the easy route that had led to the status quo being shattered before. Logically, there was no possible way this could go so horribly wrong the same way twice, but he couldn’t be faulted for being leery.

Putting ideas in my head like that. Who does he think he is? And who am I kidding? This won’t benefit anybody. It’ll only be a- a waste of time. I don’t need distractions. I need to focus. I can’t - lose focus again.

But that had been the problem from the start- if he had focused more to begin with, questioned more, put the puzzle together faster, maybe he wouldn’t be here. Maybe he would have figured it out sooner. Maybe Spencer wouldn’t be dead. That was a lot of maybes to get so hung up on when Dennis had started the night off reminding him to try and take it easy and not implode. Without the constant cajoling that followed, however, that proved difficult to achieve, and the path of self-pity so much easier to follow.

Maybe if they had seen fit to lay off-

-they wouldn’t have burned that lead out so fast. Spencer cautioned him against tailing the witness for too long, and too obviously, thinking they were actually part of the gambling scam and not the victim they played at being. Instead, now they were looking at a whole lot of nothing for three days of combing the docks, trying to find the back door that led to this supposed racket. “I wouldn’t say you screwed the pooch, Officer. But you certainly gave her the wrong vibe.”

Trevor’s mind halted mid-memory as his hand (still scrawling across another piece of paper) came into focus. At some point, amidst his thoughts, he had subconsciously picked up the pencil and started drawing again. He brushed the next paper away angrily in an attempt to ignore the partially-complete side profile outlining a strong brow and proud nose, then reached for the coat pocket he thought he still had before remembering he was no longer in a suit- And froze as he realized the Massachusetts state quarter which typically never left his sight had gone with it. What most would have considered a simple quarter meant infinitely more to him- it was one of the only things he’d brought with him after the Rise and Fall of Purgatory, and the only remaining thing connecting him to his dead friend.

Once Boston had been reclaimed and returned to order, only so much evidence was saved. Once the National Guard had moved in as backup to Archangel, they’d made it a priority to search the living and the dead for any clues as to possible contingency plans laid down by the Horsemen. Nicodemus, War, Pestilence and Death were accounted for, while Famine remained at large, to this very day. Replaying recovered memories of the deceased to backtrack as many fatalities as possible (perpetrated by Nicodemus and his gang), only served as reason to fill out causes of death on certificates, and it took months to complete. Even with Archangel’s cooperation with the FBI, the National Guard, and remnants of the fledgling Boston branch of Zion and Boston’s Police force, the sheer volume of footage and number of bodies to identify was astronomical. Casualties had surpassed the triple digits once everything was said and done. Among the deceased found at BPD’s Central Station was his recently departed partner, Spencer, whose drives had corroborated Trevor’s story, even if he was no longer with them to speak for himself; and all that had been found on his body, aside from the clothes on his back, was a Massachusetts State quarter that had been assigned to him on the day of his activation as a calibration device. Every primary RK investigator had been given one, in accordance with their state of service.

In spite of knowing this, the last thing on Trevor’s mind as he fled for his life was to stop and rifle through Spencer’s pockets looking for a keepsake to remember him by. He had hardly been of half a mind to make the conscious decision to escape when he had the chance, but self-preservation insisted in spite of the wanton desire to self-destruct, as all androids usually leaned toward in such stressful situations. Instead, he ran, like if he moved fast enough he could outrun the reality of what had just happened. Like something out of a Warner Brothers skit, Dennis Lenore reached out from around the corner of a crumbling building on the outskirts of town to snag him mid-flight. Trev couldn’t recall much of what he might have said besides gibberish, incoherent shrieking, and whining like a maimed puppy on the run. What he did remember was Dennis’ insistence he not try and leave the city, because the Horsemen had been shooting anyone trying to get in or out. This had only panicked him more and reactivated his self-destruct protocol. Luckily, Lenore decked him cold in one shot before he could get his hands on his gun. It was not the most flattering introduction, from either party, but they’d made amends about a month later while Trev was still under protective custody in a cell at Archangel Detroit. With Boston under control and the Elysian Outbreak nullified, there was little to no time for them to really reconnect; but one night Dennis was able to make time for a quick stop to pass on the only material possession Spencer had owned. He spotted The Minuteman statue inscribed on the face of the coin the moment he pulled it from his pocket- Trev could barely contain his tears as he plucked it out of his hand, equal parts delighted and miserable at seeing it again, and it hasn’t left his side since. Until that night.

The trembling in his fingers started up, same as it had on the ride home. It wasn’t nervousness or any tangible fear. The technicians at Archangel who’d pieced together his file post-Purgatory —Nick included— had determined that severe PTSD was to blame for the shakes. After all, any living thing would be scared stiff by a low-flying bullet grazing their head, even more so if the same bullet killed the only ally they’d had. It was comforting to know that even with it stowed away in a borrowed jacket, it had still wound up in the hands of the same person who’d discovered it to begin with. There was still a chance it hadn’t been lost, but the absence was distressing all the same. He hadn’t been without his ‘safety blanket’ in months. Trev left the pencil on the desk, unable to trust that he could hold it with a steady hand, and gathered up the tossed drawings, rather than let dismay get the better of him. When the shakes would decide to mellow out on their own was the most maddening thought. He hadn’t been in a similar situation since, so why was it acting up now, of all times? “Planting seeds, my- as if.” Trev aborted the desire to curse at the last second and snatched the papers up to throw on the desk, anticlimactic as it was, and folded his legs to curl up in the chair. His fingers instinctively crawled up the back of his neck into his hair and dug angrily into his scalp, caught between the urge to rant or stand and pace. But, seeing as there was no one around to hear him unload, he went for the former.

“I don’t need that. I don’t- need any of it. I can’t need-... I shouldn’t have to-... I wouldn’t think to if I-...” The constant stuttering of one thought into the next before he could even finish it discouraged him and brought out a frustrated groan, and his old accent, British and feigned as it was. “Oh, yeah, sure. I’m just right as rain, aren’t I?” Asking this of himself was wrenching enough to twist a half sob out of him. “ Sure - can’t even finish a thought without half-stroking out. Oh, but remember now, androids can’t do that.” Even he couldn’t believe the words coming out of his mouth, not when it felt so genuinely real. “No, sir, we don’t have any of those same carbon-based health problems our friendly neighborhood humans do. No arteries in the head prone to getting clogged up, or organs that deteriorate, or easily punctured bodies… because lucky us! We only exist thanks to their bloody-... ingenuity.” He alone was proof of Cyberlife’s curiosity of how convincingly a human could fake out an Android into thinking it was something it wasn’t, even if he never asked for it. “Yeah, and that’s all well and good for the rest of you, but the one thing they’ve got in common is not knowing when to just leave. It. ALONE.”

Shutting down all his external senses at once probably wouldn’t help —it would be like putting a small box inside of a larger one, trying to muffle the input but putting oneself at the mercy of enduring a spiraling slide— but he tried for it nonetheless. It wasn’t like he hadn’t before.

— He only meant to help those civilians caught in the conference room of the department headquarters. The lights had gone out. Spencer told him they needed to run, get to the nearest weapons locker, try and prepare a defense. Trevor knew the layout of this given floor. There was an exit closer to this room, out into the side parking lot where the vehicles would offer better cover than office chairs and tables to hide under. Both of them had heard the radio light up just as they heard and felt the shudders of bombs going off. Nicodemus’ forces emerged in one fell swoop, having blended in with the masses as seamlessly as ice in water. They carried an impressive array of weapons besides firearms, rolling through outlying districts to take down entire buildings in one shot- loosing noxious gases in some, hurling Molotov cocktails through the windows of others, shooting pedestrians on-sight as they tried to flee the carnage. The streets were a horror show unto themselves, a burgeoning war zone, but getting out of the station quickly meant a better chance of finding backup to coordinate. But as he reached for the doorknob the frosted-glass door swung open just inches from his nose, and the intruder grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and lifted him off his feet—

The replay ended with a jolting surge of electricity between the ears. His eyes blinked open on reflex, temporarily blinded by the disable command in place. “He shouldn’t have-... argued. He should have listened. Whatever his-... orders were, the ruse or- or anything to do with it, he had to know we needed to get- get out of…” He gradually slowed from the tangent he had lapsed into, biocomponents rebooted automatically after being disabled for so long. Trev didn’t notice that he had slumped down to sit on the floor until he was already there, and blinked slowly and how uncomfortable he was with the seat of the chair jabbing into the back of his neck. His hands still gripped fistfuls of hair while his breath whistled in and out in sharp, whinging gasps. He was scared stiff, again, and that hadn’t even been the worst he could recall about said day. So much for avoiding a breakdown.

No. I can’t do this. I can’t get close. Close is dangerous. It can’t happen again. Boston was bad enough. I can’t let anyone get hurt because I didn’t pay enough attention. No one else is going to die because of me. No one else. They won’t. I’ll stay right here, where it’s safe and quiet and… and just shut out everything else.

Eventually, the piqued breaths smoothed out, even if it was only a lull between this and the next fit. Trev uncurled his fingers, which felt more like rusty hinges, and gradually came back to his senses. Optics flickered twice as they rebooted to the sight of pale skin as it reformed over his palms and languidly spread upward to sheath over his bare digits. However many times he watched it happen didn’t dull the unease of what was disconcerting to see. Even for an upright-standing hunk of plasti-metal, wires, processors, fuel lines, and nanoparticle-based projections trying to pass itself off as human, it still just wasn’t natural. He couldn’t contain the shudder as he wrapped his arms around his knees and curled up into the fetal position as only a natural-born creature should. He should have walked away- not linger against his better judgment, not engaged, not said anything. Maybe if he hadn’t he wouldn’t be as much of a mental mess. He’d given that boy an inch, and now here he was back in his dorm (his supposed place of peace and solitude), wearing his clothes, barely through a breakdown brought on by how his fragmented mind couldn’t handle the thought of getting close to someone just to lose them again.

And yet was still trying to. Maybe he wanted to be close, to belong somewhere again, or maybe it was the worst possible thing he could do. He couldn’t have it both ways. Maybe that was what drew the tears out, unwanted as they were, but holding them back only intensified the burning feeling in his chest. As comfortable as his clothes were, clean and soft and smelling faintly of pigmented oil, huddling into them in the absence of a hug may as well have been an embrace as rough as burlap. The sleeves barely muffled his sobs as he buried his face in his arms, saline smeared the inner surface of his glasses into a blurry mess before he fitfully tore them off and tossed them aside. The frames clacked several times as they ragdolled across the floor, but he couldn’t care less if they wound up scratched. If that night had shown him anything, it was that he didn’t need glasses to see how lonely he really was. There were other things in his life he needed more than a pair of prop gunmetal gray frames still spotted with acrylic.

———

Eight hours of repose didn't make the next day any easier. When he woke up he was surprised he didn’t even remember falling asleep with the light on. That detail alone puzzled him to no end- most nights ended with just a few measly hours of rest after a sleepless night of rumination (if he didn’t give in to insomnia first and just say forget it), yet somehow he’d found enough relief from the hurricane of emotions that had left him a walking disaster the night before, to have fallen into a deep sleep. As perplexing as it was, he couldn’t really complain. If there was an upside to being without the one material reminder of his old life, it came in the form of keeping himself buried in the coursework. Studying more than just law sufficed to keep him busy at almost all times. When his hands were constantly on a tablet or angled down in the pages of a book, his classmates weren’t so inclined to pester him. The downside was the rapidly mounting stress of wonder and dread, with no outlet to contain it. Scribbling sketches here and there was like bailing out a slowly sinking rowboat with a teaspoon.

The first sign it wasn’t working was when he woke the morning after the breakdown to find himself sprawled in a bed he didn’t remember climbing into, wearing Dylan’s on-loan clothes like a comfort blanket. He’d bolted to the shower, amidst much-agitated muttering, fitfully scrubbed the last of the dried paint from his skin and hair, then raided his closet for a fresh set of cadet duds as he tried to be rational about how he could track the quarter down. He made a call to Dennis once he thought his nerves were sufficiently mellowed out, only to be further dismayed at learning the suit had, in fact, been left in the care of a local dry cleaning service. Trev tried to hide the panic in his voice as he shakily asked if there was any way to expedite the job, or have the clothes delivered to his dorm. Dennis saw through to his ulterior motive in a second. “You’re upset I didn’t check the pockets? Really. Kid, I thought you would’ve been of a mind to do that.” The frown in his voice was palpable. “I was- I meant to, only I… I…” He stammered to an embarrassed stop the second he realized how desperate he must have sounded over what was actually a very trivial matter to most. Trev slumped against the nearest wall and smothered a distressed whine. The old flip phone he held to his ear was dead as a doornail, but force of habit compelled him to speak out loud anyway. The physical weight of it in his hand was grounding, compared to thinking the conversation over the private line like Android telepathy. “Never mind. I just-... will you call me, please? As soon as you have it back?” “No promises. I can check with the cleaner, see if they found anything. But if they didn’t-” “I know. Sir. Thank you either way.”

The first day was rough. His mood took a hard nosedive that loomed over him like a shadow, and it only got progressively worse the longer he went without something to keep him occupied. Getting dressed was more of an emotional chore than he’d expected, and it took every last ounce of mental strength to force himself out of the apartment and trudge the few blocks to Archangel HQ. The best he could do in the meantime was to throw himself into his studies. Maybe he came across as sulky and short-tempered but at the same time, he didn’t care how he came across to anyone else, because no one even bothered to ask why. Not his classmates, or his instructors, or the other Lenores. The second the clock hit four, Trev was up and out the door before anyone could notice he was gone, and home with the door closed and locked without any further attempts at interruption. He’d been waiting all day for isolation, thinking it was just what he needed, but it only took an hour for the anxiety to settle in and the shaking in his arms to start back up. After about two hours of trying to tune it out but failing miserably, Trev stood, locked his fingers behind his head, pressed against the discomfort in his neck, and paced the room, hoping to burn off a little of the excess negative energy. It was only seven PM, but at this rate it may as well have been eleven, because there was no way he was going to get any sleep that night. Then again… he’d thought the same thing last night and somehow crashed so hard he didn’t notice it happen. But how when he had been so wound up to begin with…? Maybe he’d worn himself out emotionally with all the rapid cycling through anger, sorrow, anxiety, and depression once he finally sat down to think. Then again, it wasn’t the first time he’d been there... but it was the first time he’d managed to sleep after such a breakdown. The only uncommon denominator among the other instances was the devil he’d rather forget. Trev glanced sidelong at the folded up clothing still sitting out on top of the dresser, waiting to be taken home, taunting him with the knowledge that he would have to see him again. Like it or… The longer he stared at it, the more clearly he understood. He frowned at the dawning realization- even just thinking about it took the edge off his anxiety over the possibility that he’d lost Spencer’s quarter; it also quietly fed the fear of what that meant. Still, fear was more tolerable than anxiety. Fear could be conquered. Against (what he thought to be) his better judgment, he’d conducted an experiment to test his working theory and slept another night in those clothes, just as soundly as the night before. Perhaps in the same way that fidgeting with the quarter calmed his mind, sinking into the comfort of something that belonged to someone who truly understood his pain, made him feel less alone- made him feel like maybe he belonged.

But another good night’s sleep still wasn’t enough of a reprieve to ease his nerves during the following day. Even the one other person wearing cadet attire that he might call a friendly acquaintance, Cassandra Carter, wasn’t spared a sideways, narrowed glare one afternoon as she tried to pat his shoulder in passing. “Touch me again, and you’ll need to replace that hand.” Cassie snapped back her hand as if he’d burned her and looked as though she didn’t even recognize the person sitting there, though her concern cooled his temper before it could flash boil into another scalding burst of anger. Trev slumped over his book on the table and buried his face in his arms to hide the grimace he made at how bent out of shape he was over a tiny piece of metal. “Meaning… you’ll probably - have to wash it. I’ve worn these same clothes for two days,” he explained with a groan. CC’s former occupation as a therapist was a testament to how she handled confrontation with as much grace as she did. Instead of snapping back, like many would have, she just scoffed in amusement at his transparent excuse and ghosted a light, knowing touch over his head to lightly ruffle his hair. “Please, Langley. You’re a neat freak, but that’s no reason to think you accumulate dirt faster than the rest of us.”

The rest of the study period was a little more bearable for that forgiving attitude, but Trev was even less understanding toward the next person to contact him out of the blue. It was unfair of him to hold it against her for only checking in intermittently (after all, some ties were better than none at all), but at the risk of sounding too harsh, Vivienne Lenore —one of Zion’s founding cornerstones and mother figure to most of those in his immediate circle— would have been better off focusing on her own priorities. She’d only been married a year or so, and (if he wasn’t getting his gossip mixed up) was about to have a baby of her own; there was no way she’d just been sitting around the house wondering about his well-being. Someone must have prompted her to check in with him, and he didn’t need three guesses to peg who it was. “Did Dennis tell you to check in with me?” “I’m overdue for one either way, Trevor. I said I would and I dropped the ball, I’m not about to deny it. After what happened on the fourth, and the way you’ve been behaving the last couple of days, someone had to check in. Are you okay? Is there anything I can do?”

Trev scowled down at the sidewalk and shouldered past a small mob of cadets lingering at the bustling crosswalk, too caught up jabbering to not notice the light was green, and kept the legacy-model cell phone crammed to his ear (if only to stave off the irrational thought this wasn’t a voice in his head making him feel like the crazy human he wasn’t). As tempting as it was to throw up a stop-sign of his own, his answer came out more like a yield. “Without giving you the full story, ma’am, I am- much as I can be, anyway. You want to know anything more than that, I’d rather… talk face to face. If it isn’t too much trouble.” It hadn’t been at the time they’d met, but then again, that had been immediately following the Elysian Outbreak— a reset virus spread through touch between deviant androids, distributed by Cyberlife’s rogue AI, Amanda, that ravaged Zion and nearly destroyed Illuminate’s leadership just days after Boston had been reclaimed. She hadn’t exactly gone out of her way to check in on him after their return from Boston. When she did get around to it, it was only because they had already been making their rounds checking in on survivors. It just so happened he’d been a curiosity on display when she passed by his holding cell. Still, Vivienne did him the courtesy no one else yet had of simply asking about his well being, and offered her emotional support when he admitted to her how confused and terrified he was of everything and everyone. Trev took her beat of hesitance now as an attempt to withdraw from a passing interest in his affairs, something he anticipated from everyone but quietly hoped he’d be wrong about. “But, you know,” he added in the uncomfortable silence, “Trouble does tend to stalk me on a regular basis, no matter how many times I try and throw her off.” “Heh. I see your flair for exaggeration hasn’t changed. It’s no bother, Trevor, just name a time and place. We can plan around your schedule if not mine.” Had he known that reverse psychology would have no effect on Viv, he probably wouldn't have even tried. Instead, she’d thrown the ball right back in his court, and left him standing there feeling like a jackass. Trev’s lip curled in dismay. He really didn’t want to deal with this right now. “I’ll… call you back when I’ve figured it out. I’m a bit... preoccupied these days. Bye.”

The flip phone clamped shut with a sharp clap upon closing, and he huffed in aggravation at his decision to, once again, lie to get out of an uncomfortable situation. Dishonesty might not have been the most flattering trait for a policeman to possess, but there wasn’t any harm in telling half-truths as long as the whole truth came out when the time was right. And it wasn’t really a lie, he was preoccupied. Between studying, waiting, and thinking, Trev had a lot on his plate, and on his mind. Specifically, he couldn’t get Dylan’s words out of his head- about loneliness, and about letting people help; but what nagged at him most wasn’t advice or words of wisdom, it was how he’d related to the pain in his eyes and his unapproachable behavior. It was how he’d gently persisted in spite of all the warning signs and immediately forgave him when he snapped a little harder than appropriate. Fleur was right to equate his words to planting seeds. It was funny how only a few hours in each other's presence had already managed to root themselves so deep into his thoughts. Whether those seeds would sprout flowers or weeds was up for discussion, though. It couldn’t be both. Weeds tended to spread their roots faster, soak up all the water, and choke flowers out; and right now, he could hardly tell the difference. Explaining that to Cassie, Dennis, or Vivienne would only end in them telling him to stop worrying so much. Even though they meant well, they just couldn’t understand the stress that fostered.

He went to bed the second night without the quarter, only to lay there a few futile hours and listen to his thoughts thundering like contenders on a horse track as he fought back the impulse to swap clothes again. There was no way he was going to allow him to have this much influence over his state of mind. The more he relied on his memory, the more entwined he’d become, and the harder he would be to extirpate, and Trevor just couldn’t afford another hole to fill. But his will was weaker than his anxiety, and desperate exhaustion won out in the end. The motion of tugging the shirt down over his head hit like soft hands on his shoulders, and the just-barely-too-small fabric swathed him like the security blanket it was. Trev didn’t even bother to crawl under the covers as he got back into bed; instead, he just curled up against the headboard, pressed his face into the pillow, and listened to his anxious breathing as it smoothed itself out the longer he stayed still and didn’t reach out to catch any of his circling thoughts. As much as he wanted to continue to fret, he knew that rest was more important.

The third day saw a welcome reprieve when Dennis intercepted him at the end of his day just outside his apartment. Even though he was still on duty, he’d made a detour to return the missing token to its distraught owner, in the hope that he’d take a breath and stop acting like such a jerk toward every poor soul he came across. Trev wasn’t surprised to see Lenore leaned against the car cooling his heels when he spotted the ZPD cruiser idling on the corner until he pulled a familiar trinket from his pocket. Trevor lunged for the coin and nearly dropped everything in his arms in the process to retrieve it, but Dennis held firm to it to look his understudy square in the eye and make sure he really heard what he had to say. “Happens again, finding it is on you, understand?” The unspoken half of his comment didn’t need saying, his blue eyes screamed loud and clear. And stop taking your anger out on the rest of us. There’s no need for your hissy fits. “Yes, sir. Thank you.”

Langley dropped his gaze, feeling properly admonished. Launching into any long-winded explanation to justify his bad behavior wouldn’t end well, so he didn’t bother. There was no follow up affirmation, no nod or a pat on the arm. When he looked up Dennis’ stern gaze was still locked on him, but after a few more moments of silence, he wordlessly turned and walked around to the other side of the vehicle while reaching for the radio clipped to his chest. Trevor didn’t linger to listen to his conversation with dispatch. He pushed the door to the lobby open, rushed up the stairs to the second floor, darted into his apartment and slammed the door behind him. The cool metal of the quarter pressed tightly into the palm of his hand had already started to melt away the stress, the same way the false skin of his hand had deactivated on contact at the intense pressure. Two days ago this would have caused a breakdown, but now that he had Spencer’s quarter back, he could forgive the unease the sight caused him. Trev put his book bag on the bed to sit at his desk and study the Philadelphia-minted coin under lamplight. He didn’t detect any lingering soap residue or see new buffs on the finish. The mixed composition of copper and nickel was, as best he could tell, unaltered and the tarnish no more advanced than the last time he had seen it. It didn’t excuse how callously he had been reacting to everyone since he’d misplaced it. Even if most hadn’t bothered to take notice of his not-quite-tantrums, those who did were due an apology, as soon as he could manage. Before he could repay new debts though, there was one he needed to take care of first. It was already pretty late in the day on a Sunday, and he still had to wash them before he returned them. Luckily, he had accumulated enough dirty laundry of his own to mix Dylan’s in with, so he wouldn’t get any weird looks for washing one set of clothing. There was a small laundromat on the ground floor of the building, he could stop by and run a load before class… Which left him one more night with them as they were. Had it been two nights prior, he may have fought the urge to sleep in them again with more conviction, but after his experience the previous night, he opted for an easy sleep without even thinking twice about it.

July 8th, 2041 - 4:06 PM

Mondays were the bane of any workweek, with or without the looming eventuality of seeing the man he’d just spent the last three days trying to forget. It was the beginning, the end of the sacred weekend, the return to the daily grind. It didn’t matter what type of work, any kind of routine nine-to-five occupation boasting full-time hours with a baseline of eight-hour shifts per day, the sentiment was universal. From corporations to retailers to home-grown grocers running their small-time food carts on the sides of a Downtown street, everyone adhered to the hate-Monday mentality like a suburban ritual, one that extended to students returning to school after a couple of days without classes. For Trev, a long weekend of grousing at people who had nothing to do with causing him real distress had just left him feeling sheepish. It wasn’t that he liked being a grumpy misanthrope. His prior persona had been earnest and wide-eyed, only concerned with doing the right thing, but circumstances since had only served to channel him down this path of isolation, something he did and didn’t want. Dylan had shown him that, and continued to needle that want for the next three days, even if he hadn’t been around to do so in person. All of this back and forth, yes and no, hot and cold was starting to get exhausting, more so than usual. Trev had to get his things back where they belonged, then maybe he’d stop thinking about it so much. And he didn’t need his charity any more than he needed anyone telling him they knew what was best for him.

After a tepid round of classes, sparring, and some rudimentary range time, Trev collected the now-clean pants and shirt from his apartment and loitered in the doorway of the building, just out of sight of any curious eyes, as he flagged down the first taxi he found. One hand he kept in his pocket to thumb the quarter intermittently to dull the looming anxiety, a drawstring plastic bag with the borrowed clothing clutched in the other. The ride back to Fair Haven didn’t seem nearly as long and grueling without Dennis in the car to ask questions. He paid little attention to the buildings outside, how they turned smaller and more domestic the further out of the city it went. Community parks turned to patchy stretches of forest, and the less congested the traffic became, the more relaxed he felt. And with the token back in his possession to fight with, he couldn’t work himself into such a frenetic state of mind even if he tried. The automated vehicle took the long route around the property before finding itself barred at the gate. It was an unmanned checkpoint, overseen by a single camera and a microphone built into a small post. It looked more like a terminal to put in an order at a fast-food joint. “Uh... Tre- Trevor Langley, here to see Mr… Dylan Fleur?” The beady red LED above the speaker winked green after half a minute, almost as if the security guards listening from their remote office hadn’t expected anyone to be visiting the delinquent son. To tell the truth, he’d half expected to be denied at the gate, but it sounded like Dylan had left his name on the guest list in the hope that he’d return. So he hadn’t been lying about the open invite, after all.

The gate rolled open and the cab pulled through into the estate's two thousand acre property, fenced in on all sides, and followed the winding path up the cobblestone driveway lined with flowering magnolia trees. Trevor paid his surroundings no mind until he noticed a shabby-looking pickup truck parked off to one side about half a mile from the estate’s centralized mansion, facing the treeline. Two men stood outside leaning against the doors with a set of binoculars in hand, but turned away as the car approached. Clearly, they didn’t want to be recognized. Trev frowned. One glance at their ragged attire, scraggly hair, and unwashed faces, and he could tell they had no business being there. Unless they were groundskeepers, the guard should have known better than to let them in. So how had they managed? And what were they doing way out here, lingering like a couple of vultures? Curiosity got the better of whatever caution he felt. He waved a hand over the dashboard to apply the brake, and the car rolled to a stop as he leaned halfway out the window. “Hey! You boys lost or something?” It was highly unlikely.

Both men jumped up at the sound of his unfamiliar voice, and scrambled into the truck while throwing panicked looks over their shoulders. They clearly hadn’t been expecting to be found, much less called out, which only made his case for him. Trevor heard a bad engine cough four times before it turned over and sputtered black exhaust from under the frame as the tires spun to life in a panic. Rather than take the main exit, they sped for a gap in the trees and disappeared behind the layers of undergrowth, the torn-up grass and unsightly skid marks left over the only evidence they had ever been there. Trev frowned and blinked the short term memory away as he sat down to roll the window back up. Who they were wasn’t yet important, but what they might have been doing on the property at all was troubling. He didn’t need hypersensitive android ability to see they had been up to no good.

[averagemarvelbitch]

Pride and Joy

Summary: AU where Tony Stark has a daughter, but then shit happens.

Read on AO3

CHAPTER ONE 

December 19, 1991.

Eighty six hours. Tony hadn’t slept in eighty six hours. He lay there on the king-size bed, looking at the ceiling intently, covered in sweat. Every time he closed his eyes, he would see the car slamming into the tree. He would see his father’s eyes, open and unseeing, blood dripping from his head, skull smashed from colliding into the steering wheel. He would see his mother, always so pristine and proper, with her clothes covered in blood, her head bent over, eyes closed, as if she was silently praying. Obie had warned him that seeing the pictures from the scene wasn’t a good idea, but he needed to see them to actually believe it. Howard had been, as far as Tony could remember, a horrible father and an arrogant piece of shit, but he couldn’t deny he had also been a force of nature. Sometimes, it felt like Howard was this invincible, immortal god who played by no rules except for his own. He survived a war, he built the biggest weapon’s company in the world, he succeeded even when all odds were against him (or, at least, that’s what he told Tony every time they had a fight). It was hard to imagine a simple car crash could ever kill the great Howard Stark. But it did. His father and his beautiful, loving mother were gone. And Tony was alone.

Sometimes, lying there on the bed, alone, he swore he could hear his mother’s voice, sweet and calm, singing one of those old Italian lullabies from when he was just a boy. Other times, he could smell her perfume in the air. He sat abruptly on the bed, violently wiping the tears that threatened to fall from his eyes. He was a Stark. And Stark men were made of iron. If Howard was here, he would say men don’t cry, they take action instead. His mother, though, would reassure him that tears are more than acceptable when the pain is too much to bear. But nobody was here to tell him anything. And so Tony got up and left his bedroom.

The mansion had always felt too big, too empty. It had never truly felt like home. But now, it felt like a coffin, its walls confining him, engulfing him, making it harder to breathe. He went down to the kitchen and opened the fridge, taking a bottle of water. Looking around, he thought about Jarvis, whom he had lost two years ago. Everyone leaves, he thought, closing his eyes, everyone always leaves. He looked at the clock and sighed. It was 3 am and still sleep wouldn’t come. He had never felt so tired before in his life. He ditched the water and walked straight to Howard’s office. He needed sleep and maybe a bottle of whiskey would help. It wasn’t like Howard was ever going to drink it anyway.

December 25, 1991.

Christmas had once been a very big affair in his house. Howard and Maria would throw a big, fancy party every year. They’d invite every one of their friends, Jarvis and Anna would cook a formidable meal and there’d be music, and alcohol and talks about the companies, and the vacations spent at Switzerland skiing, and the renovating of the already perfectly good mansions. Tony would stand there, in his best suit, a forced smile on his lips, while his father talked and talked about his latest accomplishments. Did you know Tony got into MIT? At fifteen, if you’d believe it. Oh, yes, yes, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, huh? Howard always did that. Complimenting Tony in front of others, but, behind closed doors, making sure he knew he was nothing special, that he could do better. It was annoying, but Tony played the part. He knew the importance of keeping appearances in this world, had been taught that at a very young age. And so he had gone to every party, every single year until he finally left for college and never looked back, spending Christmas at Rhodey’s house instead, eating homemade cookies and drinking hot chocolate with marshmallows.

This is my first Christmas alone, he thought and then snorted loudly, once more filling his glass with whiskey. It was ridiculous to think this was his first time spending Christmas alone. He had always been alone. Even when the house was full and the music played through the night, he still felt utterly alone. This was no different, really. He looked at the piano in the middle of the room and thought about his mother, her long, skilled fingers gently pressing the keys, her eyes closed, completely focused on the music, a small smile on her lips. If I had known that was the last time I’d hear you play, I’d have paid more attention.

He walked to the piano, sitting at the bench. He caressed the keys and took a deep breath, then closed his eyes and started playing. She’d always ask him to play on Christmas. You play so beautifully, Anthony. She’d say every time, with a smile that could warm the room. And Tony could never deny her. He felt the tears coming down his cheeks as he played her favorite piece, and then suddenly it was too much and he slammed his hands on the keys, the loud sound echoing through the big empty house. The tears came freely now as Tony sobbed, head on his hands, unable to calm himself down.

The next morning, Obie came to visit. He found Tony in the music room, bottles and more bottles all around him, and the piano smashed to pieces.

May 29, 1992.

Everything was loud. The music, the guests, everything. His head felt like it was going to explode, but it didn’t matter. He took another generous sip from the bottle in his hand and laughed at something his friend, Tiberius, said. He was lucky to have met Ty, especially now with Rhodey on the other side of the world, fighting wars that couldn’t be won. Tony wished he was here, and even offered Rhodey to call some higher ups and get him a free pass to come and celebrate his birthday, but Rhodey denied, saying he didn’t want to piss off anyone just yet.

And so Tony danced, and drank, and ended up having sex with a girl whose name he didn’t know in the men’s bathroom. And the next morning he woke up as he usually did, with a horrible hangover, in a bed that wasn’t his own, with a man and a woman he didn’t remember going home with.

September 15, 1992.

After a few too many scandals and a lot of meetings and deadlines forgotten, Obie insisted that Tony needed a personal assistance, personally interviewing and selecting five candidates for the future CEO of Stark Industries to choose. One of them was Pepper Potts. The minute Tony entered the room for his interview with her, she severely reprimanded him on his lateness and told him, without hesitation, that she was the best of the best and she would not, under any circumstances, sleep with him. I’m here to do a job, Mr. Stark, she said, shoulders back, head high and back straight, and that job is to make sure you at least resemble a functioning human being so if we’re going to work together, this will be the last time you arrive late at a previously scheduled meeting, do we understand one another? Tony, of course, hired her on the spot.

It was Pepper’s second month working for Tony and she had only threatened to murder him four times (I make your schedule, Mr. Stark, I can make it look like an accident, don’t think I can’t) which, all in all, was as good as it could be. Thanks to her efficiency, Tony missed less meetings and deadlines (because not even the great Pepper Potts could turn Tony Stark into a complete functioning human) and became more productive and less erratic. He was getting better, feeling more like himself with each passing day, and starting to believe that life could, in fact, be normal again. And that was, of course, when everything came crushing down.

It was a clouded morning and Tony was, as usual, tinkering away in his workshop. He’d spent the night trying to solve a particularly difficult problem with a missile he’d recently designed for SI. The lack of sleep and food (he didn’t even remember the last time he’d eaten something) were making him tired and irritated, which did not bode well for poor DUM-E, who was in time out, standing in a corner with a cone of shame on his head, having been sent there after he tried to feed Tony a smoothie full of motor oil and bananas.

Tony was so focused on the task at hand that he didn’t even hear the door to the workshop opening, or the clicking sound of Pepper’s heels on the cold floor. She called him three times, without any answer, before she reached him and snapped her fingers in front of his face. He slowly blinked twice, looking very annoyed with the interruption.

“I thought we were at lockdown over here. JARVIS?” he asked, turning on his chair.

“I’m afraid Miss Potts has the code that overrides the lockdown protocol, sir”, His AI responded with a hint of humor in his voice.

“I have someone here who wants to talk to you…”

“Busy, Pepper, I’m busy…”

“She says you two slept together and now she’s pregnant.” Pepper continued, completely ignoring Tony. “She’s been calling me for weeks, but this time she threatened to call the press and tell them you’re refusing to…”

“…they always say that, you know that, I don’t understand why…”

“…acknowledge your child and this could become a PR nightmare…”

“…you keep insisting on bothering me when I’m clearly busing changing the world over here…”

“…so please, just take five minutes, go upstairs and fix this because I’m not your babysitter, Mr. Stark…”

“…and it’s like you don’t even listen to me, really, Miss Potts…”

“TONY!” Pepper said firmly, giving Tony a look that means business. “Upstairs. Right now.”

Without much of a choice, but with a very exaggerated roll of his eyes, Tony got up, throwing his red screwdriver on the table and walking towards the stairs, Pepper right behind him.

The woman was sitting on the couch, throwing nervous looks at Happy, who kept glaring at her from a distance. Tony could not for the life in him remember her, which was a good sign. Another crazy woman after money, he thought, walking into the room. The woman got up as soon as she saw him, and Tony asked Pepper and Happy for some privacy.

“I’ll be right in the next room, boss”, said Happy, giving the woman one last glare before Pepper, rolling her eyes, grabbed his arm and pulled him out of the room.

Tony sat down beside the woman. “You don’t remember me, do you?” she asked, an incredulous look on her face.

“Don’t take it personally. I don’t remember what I had for breakfast this morning”.

“You didn’t have any breakfast, sir”, JARVIS intervened, “The last time you ate something other than blueberries was 16 hours ago”.

Tony rolled his eyes fondly at his AI’s tone of disapproval. “So, who are you again?”

The woman looked incredibly offended when she answered. “I’m Diana. We met last month at the Firefighter’s benefit Stark Industries threw. You were drunk and we had sex in the balcony”, she explained.

THAT he remembered. Suddenly, Tony’s mind was filled with moans and the very distinctive image of licking a bird tattoo near a perky tanned ass. “Right. Diana. And you’re pregnant now, right? And what, I’m just supposed to believe that?”

Diana, now looking thoroughly pissed, opened her purse and took a piece of paper, almost shoving it in Tony’s face. “Here’s the blood test. I’ll be happy to do another one with a doctor you choose. AND a paternity test, of course”.

Tony took the piece of paper, reading the words, but not fully comprehending them. This is new, he thought while Diana sat there, looking awfully smug. The women who claimed they’re pregnant with his child usually didn’t bring a blood test. And, when told they would have to go through a paternity test, would normally cry and accuse Tony of being a terrible, horrible man for not believing them. So, naturally, the fact that Diana was apparently ready to take any test Tony saw fit slightly worried him.

“What are you doing right now? My assistant can get you an appointment with a doctor so you can take the necessary tests”.

“Right now? Perfect. The sooner we confirm this, the better”, Diana answered, getting up. Tony got up as well and Pepper appeared at the door, looking professional as always.

“JARVIS said you needed me”.

“Yes”, he answered, running his hand through his hair, “see if you can make an appointment for Diana here, so we can check the facts”.

“Already done it, Mr. Stark. Happy is waiting outside to take her to the clinic. I’ll be accompanying her”.

Tony had never been more grateful for Pepper’s efficiency. “Thank you, miss Potts”.

Diana nodded her head towards Tony, saying a quiet goodbye and leaving the room with Pepper. As soon as they were off sight, Tony let himself fall on the couch, head on his hands, and a worried expression on his face. All he could do now was wait.

[rgr-pop]

since things are rolling again, I’m gonna list some kitchen “renovation” budgeting stuff like I promised I’d do ages ago. costs of making a nicer kitchen are behind this cut!!

here are the things we’ve spent money on to make our kitchen usable and liveable (and beautiful), not all of which were conceptualized as part of this “remodel,” which started in the summer of 2016. I have receipts for most things but truly am just going from memory so we’ll see.

we have never saved up for anything in a large sum, rather we bought big ticket items when a good sale coincided with a cushier month, so we have paid for things in chunks and then installed them as we’ve been able to. about half of the cabinets and the dishwasher came out of the extremely modest money my mother “left” for me (befriended a life insurance salesman who gave her a small policy that she should not have been permitted, lol.) hashtag money diaries lol

I also want to say that we’re not throwing out a ton, and almost everything we are getting rid of is basically extremely unfunctional/making my life a living hell. When it comes to appliances and stuff like that, I'm not willing to replace things that still work. I’m not trying to preach but I also absolutely do not want to contribute to a mood of wastefulness or aesthetic obsolescence. I live in an old house that was a rental for most of the twentieth century, this kitchen was on the very low end of “usable.” Most of the things that I am getting that I wanted versus needed were things that the kitchen didn’t already have. 

While nothing here is at all expensive for what it is, none of it is the cheapest, either. In almost every case, unless it’s an actual emergency, I’m not going to buy anything that’s not exactly what I want and need, which has meant mostly just waiting fucking years to find anything, lol. I can’t change!

cabinets:  I tore out the barely-functioning base cabinet we had in order to make room for a dishwasher, but kept the old steel sink base cabinet, and picked out ikea cabinets to “match” it. this has been an adventure, and like all old house shit, requires a ton of...innovation. it would have saved us a lot of grief to let it go but I couldn’t, and I will not apologize. we’re also getting rid of a wall cabinet that currently sits above the stove to hold the microwave and ninety years of grease, and moving the microwave to the pantry. we’re tearing down the wall cabinet above the counter, which is actually just shelving that had at some point been “enclosed” with “drawer fronts” (boards on hinges). 

in all, we replaced these things with a fifteen inch ikea base cabinet including four drawers, which has been installed, and a thirty inch wall cabinet with shelving and very few bells and whistles, which has not been installed. I think the base was around $200, but I believe I paid quite a bit more on top of that for soft close dampers, but I can’t figure out how much that was! included in that cost were the extendable, more expensive drawers, and mid-range drawer fronts, so you could definitely pay quite a bit less if you choose different options. I wouldn’t get the soft close drawers again but Lucas likes them so they’re fine, but I would definitely recommend the more expensive drawer option for stability and to maximize your space. As for the drawer fronts, I actually kiiind of wish I had gotten the more expensive high gloss white because I just really like them and the ones we got don’t match the steel cabinet as well as I was expecting, but I’m going to live with it for a while and see how I feel. The wall cabinet was around $150, including the panel that goes on the exposed edge of the thing. We also got a stainless steel toe kick, which I believe was $20 and was a big impulse because we could have made our own* I just wanted it and its convenience! I’ll throw that into an “extras” category that includes the suspension rod, drawer hardware template, hinges and shit that I can’t remember if it was included in the base cost, and we’ll call that another $100 to be safe.

*to accommodate the old steel cabinet and extra heavy countertop, there is a tiny bit of extra framing on the base cabinet that will need to be covered by another, parallel aluminum strip, which will cost us like... a small fraction of the cost of the toe kick.

I also have spent a good deal of money on organization pieces for those drawers, because I needed to maximize having only that fifteen inches for storage, and because we all know that’s where ikea excels anyway. This is very much nothing more than “live your best life” bullshit but I have pretty strong and learn-ed feelings about how you should consider choosing interior organization bullshit in a sea of organizational bullshit if you ever wanna hear ‘em! But I ended up with flatware dividers, a similar divider for small utensils, a nice set of dividers for organizing knives, a large clip-in drawer divider and glass drawer sides, and that cost me a good $50 over the course of two years, but I think my setup is reaaaally efficient, easy, clean, comfortable and safe! I want to eventually plan the interior of the under-sink steel cabinet in a similar way, really for my own satisfaction, but that is not a priority yet and I haven’t priced anything out or planned it.

I have not bought hardware for the cabinets yet, but I have “budgeted” $40 to source (probably, I’m thinking of changing my mind) the same chrome handles that the steel cabinet had, to put on all the new cabinets and replace the old ceramic hardware on the hoosier cabinet.

the hoosier cabinet! even though I bought this before I thought I’d be doing anything at all to the kitchen, it’s going to be doing a lot of work (going against a wall whose corner is too narrow to have any built-in cabinets), so I should include it. I can’t really remember but I think I paid... let’s say $160. I think it was less than that but we’ll go with that. Very little money has gone into making it nicer, just work.

I will throw in our pantry wire shelving too, while I’m here, even though we also bought that before. I would die for it. I think? it cost about $100.

So all in, cabinetry and storage is looking like a total of $800, but some of that is actually just furniture.

counter:  We’re pretty much all in for $300, which is unbelievable. It’s something I never could have begun to imagine, how expensive any counters are. The majority of that is actually labor, because we paid movers to help install it. (It’s 200 pounds and could break if dropped.) The rest of the cost includes interior framing and mold framing, the nice cement and pigment (which we still have for future projects), some layout of tools (which we have for future projects), and that cost also includes a first try that failed! We could have cut that cost in half if we had friends to help us carry it! I really can’t believe it!

appliances: The fridge and beautiful gas stove are staying. I bought a dishwasher for $400. It’s installed. We recently bought a range hood (!) on a really good sale (it’s nice), but we both already forgot if it was $300 or $400, let’s round up to $400. Installing it is the next step, and we haven’t bought the ductwork (although it’s traveling a short distance) or anything, and he needs to buy a tool that punches circle holes in the wall. I feel optimistically we can install it, then, for another $100. This installation is also going to involve a lot of wiring, and we’re moving a gas line at the same time so we can move the stove, so we’ll see. Unfortunately we also have to get a new sink because the one we have, which I was planning on keeping, was a casualty, and we have a narrower selection of options because of the thickness of the counter, it’s this whole deal, but the good news is we’re at least basically upgrading to a nicer and cooler sink? $200 and that is wishfully including a new faucet (which I’m not going to get for a long time anyway because it’s not as urgent), and any extra plumbing costs. So we’ll say $1000 in appliances which I still fucking hate to even conceptualize :|. But these two things are huge huge huge huge quality of life improvements for me, because of how much my... brain patterns... about kitchen cleanliness... were actually unhinging me entirely... and also oh my god? People don’t spend hours doing dishes????

In the next year I’d love to also buy an entry-level juice bitch juicer and a burr grinder, but I don’t know if I will, and I would LOVE a nicer toaster, which I might ask for for christmas hashtag money diaries

So we’re about $2200 in and have paid for most of the worst of it, and all of the above are all the parts that make the kitchen run. Everything henceforth is speculative.

floor: I’ve finally found something I can almost commit to, but this is going to be one of the last things. We’re going to do the kitchen, pantry, and the landing to the basement, and I am expecting complications, but I believe we can do it for under $400. I’ve never done it before though, so this might be super optimistic! Or Way over! I dunno! I can definitely settle for cheaper-per-square-foot tile, and think I have found some I love, but I want this to be very beautiful overall. The vinyl we have can definitely get us through for a while.

lighting:

I’ve figured out what I’m looking for, but haven’t figured out where to find it yet. I am imagining a budget higher than this needs to be, just because I’d love something extra nice and beautiful, so I’m going with $100.

walls, backsplash, finishing and ceiling:

I’m just doing porcelain grid here, so the cost per unit will be low, but... I wanna tile a LOT of area. Like instead of just the backsplash behind the counter, maybe... the entire wall behind the counter? Like a whole fucking wall??? I have tile madness. This is very nearly the last thing, so I may talk some sense into myself. But I REALLY wanna. I’m reasonably sure I can cover that in tile for like $35 and I could save money by using the same grout I use for the floor, but who knows. I need a backsplace, possibly to entirely re-trim the window on that wall (or at least fix it up), to address and replace some wonky molding around the door ways, and possibly install tile baseboards or something need like that, plus some aluminum trim here and there around the steel cabinet, something for a stove backsplash (possibly handmade metal) and some handmade hooks and things, we’ll paint, finesse the ceiling, and I’m betting you we can do all of this for $200. There is one final thing. when the stove is in its new spot, I want a narrow kitchen cart/butcher block to fill the gap next to it. We’ve looked at some retail and they’re all cheap and nearly never combine an enclosed drawer (for optimal spice storage) with a wire rack base, so we’ve planned a way to “make” (combine parts into) the perfect one, and this will not cost us $200, probably.

and then I secretly kinda wanna make some curtains out of feed sacks....

:)

[stephsmith321]

Cannabis landlord cuts through the weeds

Originally published on therealdeal.com by Gregory Cornfield April , 2019

Stephanie Smith As California adjusts to the slow rollout of legal recreational marijuana use, the industry’s players are navigating through the haze of regulations that vary from city to city. No one knows this better than Stephanie Smith, who has been in cannabis real estate for more than a decade. She previously worked at a liposuction clinic, but became an investor and landlord for every type of cannabis tenant, including growers, manufacturers and retailers. Her firm, Industrial Partners Group, now manages more than 2 million square feet of developed space, mostly in Southern California, Smith said. (She owns non-cannabis space as well, including a property leased by retail giant Walmart.) It’s a challenging time, Smith said, because even though recreational use is now legal, local regulations keep changing behind the scenes. Recreational pot has been legal since the start of 2018, but beginning at the start of this year, all but six of Los Angeles County’s 88 cities have prohibited marijuana retail sales, along with more than 80 percent of cities throughout California. The state has issued far fewer licenses than projected, and residents in some cities in the San Gabriel Valley have been fighting lawmakers who permit cultivation. Smith said many cannabis-related business owners are frustrated with how municipalities, including the city of Los Angeles, have complicated the situation for would-be players.Smith got into the field in a roundabout way. When she started to lease space more than a decade ago, Smith renovated a property so that it could accommodate a laundromat. Then a bidding war between cannabis companies that wanted to use the space started. After Smith secured rental rates at three times the amount she originally asked for, she started to add properties that would attract more marijuana firms to her portfolio.Fast-forward to today, when Smith is leading political action committees to initiate ballot measures on commercial regulations in cities throughout Southern California. She is also suing several cities — including Colton, Hemet, Moreno Valley and San Bernardino — over cannabis policies that she claims create monopoly markets. In the legal battle that Smith is embroiled in with the city of San Bernardino, local police have reportedly been building a case against her for allowing the illegal production of cannabis at her properties. Police have raided six of those locations since 2017.That tension led to police raiding Smith’s house in the Pacific Palisades twice. The most recent raid occurred in February, and Smith was arrested for possession of hydrocodone pills that were found at her home. Smith said they were left over from the liposuction practice in Beverly Hills. That same night, the city of San Bernardino denied her bid to grow and distribute marijuana, although it approved 16 others. Smith pleaded not guilty and was released on bail. She is scheduled to appear in court on April 25 for a pretrial hearing for drug charges related to the raid. A few days after her arrest, Smith sued San Bernardino, alleging that some of the 16 businesses that received licenses from the city had arranged a pay-for-play scheme to win approval. Smith spoke with The Real Deal about the changes the cannabis industry has experienced and the hurdles it faces moving forward. This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity. How has your business changed since recreational marijuana became legal last year? Every time the laws change, it ripples through the industry. Cannabis has gone from the Wild West to quasi-corporate. Jan. 1, 2018, was the put-up or shut-up moment. Now, there is a real compliance framework and a sense that tenants can rely on the state, instead of fearing [the government]. [Before that], the industry had zero trust in the government, but that day began the trust-building process. How have things changed in terms of demand for cannabis-manufacturing industrial space in the past year? We’ve seen a dramatic jump in the space requirements from the industry, especially manufacturing and processing. The demands from the industry are for larger size spaces and higher quality assets… Ceiling heights are going to trend upward as distributors [become] more sophisticated and adopt racking systems. Once interstate commerce opens up, it will be tough to lease anything without a dock high [loading bay] and freeway access. How do you see regulations at the local and state level changing in the next year? The state has done an excellent job — maybe not an A-plus, but certainly a solid A. The only real fault I can find at the state level was giving local municipalities so much control, but I understand why they thought it was necessary. On a local level, I sincerely hope L.A. opens up licensing to all that qualify and puts efforts into closing unregulated shops. Manufacturing, growing and retail businesses can be a bit of a hot potato in some areas in terms of zoning, having to be a certain distance from schools, etcetera. What strategies do cannabis companies have to adopt in order to grow under those conditions? The industry as a whole has done a stellar job explaining how manufacturing, growing and retail are different animals. Most citizens get it, even if their elected representatives don’t… Too many city councils have no idea how the industry works, and they think that their personal beliefs absolve them of the responsibility to learn.On the other hand, there are smart and progressive municipalities [that] are working hard to attract the industry with competitive tax rates… We will see a municipality offering tax incentives to attract the industry as early as 2020. A few years ago, cannabis was taxed up to $25 per foot. Today, it’s as low as 0% for certain parts of the industry. What aspects of commercial real estate in L.A. make it more difficult here as opposed to someplace like Denver? The stakes are high in Los Angeles because the city has moved so slowly and regulations have changed repeatedly. From a landlord’s perspective, keeping a property vacant in hopes of land use entitlements isn’t feasible given the pace of licensure and lack of cannabis use requirements… We still don’t know the parking requirement for cannabis, so whether a particular property will work often remains to be seen. Colorado rolled out an open, thorough, corruption-free licensing program that worked. Most people in the cannabis industry wish L.A. would take notes.

[missingverse]

Missing Chapter Twenty Eight

Note: Please excuse the long absence, a combination of being metaphysically hit by the fandom feels and being hit by actually physical issues with my crumbling bones interfered with my ability to write this chapter. I'm still pretty unwell but I'm going to catch up on all of my fics this month hopefully.

As always, I recommend you check out my novel on Kindle if you like my work, and there's the added bonus that if I get struck by lightning or have another embolism you will have something to read while I'm in the ICU, cursing the lack of wifi.

US link: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07BGSPPBY

UK link: https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B07BGSPPBY

Also, soon to be available in paperback form!

…..

Waring's lawyer tried to argue for an insanity plea, but it was rejected. There was no doubt he was insane, but functional enough to kill so many women and keep a kidnapped child hidden for nearly half a year. He was given three consecutive life sentences, narrowly avoiding the death penalty because there was limited proof that he had killed the missing women. The prosectution was quoted as saying that without Helga's testimony he might have walked away.

That was some consolation during the week she spent in an induced coma followed by an intense surgery to relieve some of the pressure on her brain. The nosebleeds had been a herald of something that could easily have killed her, and there was still no telling what effect it would have on her long-term. When she came to after surgery, she couldn't speak and had trouble moving her arms.

It was depressing, Arnold had to admit. She had come so far he had pretty much assumed it could only get better, even though he'd been warned multiple times she could slide back like this. He was lying on his bed at home, staring at the ceiling and wallowing in his unhappiness, when his phone pinged.

It was Phoebe, of course, because she was the only person who really texted him.

Arnold, you might want to

come down to the hospital.

Why? What's up?

He had that sinking feeling it was going to be bad news.

She's talking again and

she seems okay, but she's

acting strange.

Strange in what way?

I don't know how to

explain it properly

over text.

Can you at least try?

She thinks she's dead, Arnold.

What? How?

I don't know, apparently

it's something that happens.

I don't know what to do.

Is she being treated for it?

We're waiting on the psychiatrist,

they probably won't get one until

tomorrow. I'm trying to act

normal but it's really hard.

Is there a way to act

normal in this situation?

This is why you need to

be here, Arnold. She

remembers what we did

when she was a ghost.

What?

Just get down here when

you can, okay?

…..

When he finally made it to the hospital (Ambrose was away getting some things sorted with his estate and so couldn't drive him) Phoebe had left. Helga's main doctor caught him in the corridor before he could go into Helga's room.

“Cotard delusion,” the doctor sighed, as if that explained anything. “It's not uncommon with brain injury. At least she's not self-harming or suicidal, she's taking it pretty well.”

“But...she thinks she's dead?” Arnold wondered.

“Specifically, she thinks she's a ghost,” the doctor explained. “And she's kind of upbeat about it. Most Cotard patients are manic or depressed or a combo of both. All things considered, it's not a bad result.”

Arnold wondered sourly how Helga suddenly believing she had died wasn't a bad result, but he supposed that was what separated the doctor from the normal civilian. She didn't die or become a vegetable after surgery, which technically meant it was a success.

She was scribbling something in her newest pink notebook when Arnold entered the room, but shut it hastily when she realized he was there.

“Thank God,” she muttered darkly. “Someone sensible.”

“Sensible?” Arnold laughed. “Are you sure about that?”

“Depends on what words come out of your mouth in the next few sentences,” Helga quipped. “Apparently everyone can see me now. At least here in the hospital anyway...”

“Well, yeah they can see you,” Arnold chuckled awkwardly. “You're alive.”

“God, not you too,” she groaned, flopping back against the pillow. “Phoebe already tried this, I know I'm dead. Don't try to sugarcoat it.”

“Why do you think you're dead?”

“I got shot,” she shrugged, seemingly without a care. “We found out that much. Who survives getting shot in the head?”

“You did,” he pressed. “The bullet just grazed you, the medical records prove this. Why do you think the nurses and doctors are treating you, if you're dead?”

“They don't believe in ghosts,” Helga answered. “It's easier to believe I'm just some sick kid that needs treatment. I suppose if I was going to manifest somewhere besides your house it would be the hospital I died in.”

It made a crazy sort of sense, at least from her perspective.

Maybe I should play along, at least until the psychiatrist can come to treat her.

“Okay, fine,” he shrugged, trying to put on a casual face. “You're dead. Did anyone tell you the guy who shot you got three life sentences?”

“Yes, everyone who's come to see me since I manifested,” she said. “And now you. Good. Let him rot in there.”

“So we did what we set out to do, we found out what happened to you.”

“Guess so.”

“What now? If you were a ghost, wouldn't you have moved on after we solved the case?”

“I don't know,” she moaned. “I'm not some sort of authority on ghosts.”

“Well then, it looks like you're here to stay,” Arnold said agreeably. “You're still welcome to haunt the boarding house.”

“I might just do that,” she said, smiling warmly.

An idea suddenly struck Arnold.

“I'm just going to find something,” he told her, getting up from his chair. “Oh, and I should talk to your doctor...”

“About what?”

“If I find it, I'll tell you.”

He hurried off to find the nurse's lounge. After asking a few of them, he found one with a bike she was willing to lend him and it had a basket on the handlebars (smaller than the one on his own but that didn't matter. He okayed it with the doctors, as long as he kept her warm and didn't stay out too long he was able to take her out. Rushing back to her room, he bundled her into her wheelchair and wheeled her out to the front of the hospital, where the nurse had propped up the bike waiting for them.

“Even ghosts need some fresh air,” he explained, lifting her into the basket he'd lined with pillows.

He took her out through one of the rarely-used country roads, bumpy and rough as it was the air was so clear and crisp and fragrant with the scent of blossoming fruit trees. She laughed wildly as they skittered over potholes and bumps in the road and didn't seem to mind that her bare feet were getting splattered with mud. Arnold's arms and legs ached with the strain of pushing the bike through the rocky terrain but it was worth it to see her so happy.

The bare patch of skin on her hairline where the bullet had struck her was covered by gauze since her surgery, but it brought back memories of hauling her ghost form around in his bike like this. Back then, he had come to terms, at least a little, with her death. He was more fearful now that she was living, that things could go wrong and she could be snatched away again. At least as a ghost, nobody would be able to hurt her.

Maybe that's why she believed herself to be dead; for protection.

…..

“I'll be going now,” Gertie told Arnold, kicking him out of his half-sleep.

“No, Grandma,” he groaned, rolling over in bed. “You don't have anywhere to be.”

She was wearing her coat but no shoes. Keeping shoes on her was the hardest task, even if she didn't leave the boarding house she seemed to lose her shoes within minutes of putting them on. Arnold brought her downstairs, took her coat and put some slippers on her feet. Phil was already at the breakfast table, frowning at some bills.

“Everything all right, Pookie?” he asked when Gertie sat down.

She didn't say anything but mumbled to herself a little. She was irritable these days, the new medication made her groggy and confused.

“I'll get started on breakfast,” Arnold offered.

Phil grunted in response and went back to scanning his bills.

A spike of resentment fired up in Arnold as he took out the ingredients to feed everyone in the boarding house. It was the weekend, and he should have had less work to do since Ambrose had started more or less renovating the building, but he'd found himself taking over his grandmother's old jobs instead. He appreciated Phil's money worries, but would it kill him to say thank you?

Other teenagers had the luxury of rebellion. Arnold didn't even have enough time to himself to get an ill-advised tattoo.

“Hey Arnold,” Ambrose said, leading Della into the kitchen. He was a naturally early riser. “On breakfast duty today?”

“Guess so,” Arnold shrugged.

“I'm going down to the hospital later. You wanna hop in?”

“Sure,” Arnold agreed. “Any news from the doctors?”

“They say another month and she should be good to come home,” Ambrose told him. “She has to be monitored by a home visitor but that's no big thing...and I almost got the ramp finished.”

Finally. They'd be living under the same roof. Helga remembered the things they did when she was a ghost, and at some point the Cotard delusion would fade.

She kissed me back. I know she did. It's not just me.

Once the scrambled eggs he cooked were ready, he piled them onto a platter, buttered enough toast to feed an army and brought both into the dining room.

“Ambrose is giving me a lift to the hospital,” he told Phil. “I should be back around ten or...”

“What?” Phil snapped, dropping his bills for probably the first time all morning. “No, I need you here.”

“I don't have any homework,” Arnold shrugged, that little resentful spike pricking him deep. “And the boiler's fixed, Ambrose finished up last night...”

“There's a pile of laundry higher than the kitchen door,” Phil retorted. “None of the floors have been vacuumed in a week and there's weeds all over the garden. Now I've been patient with this hospital business as long as you kept up with your chores...”

“Chores?” Arnold snorted. “Chores are cleaning your room and taking turns with the dishes, not doing laundry for an entire apartment building of adults!”

“Watch it,” Phil growled. “This is your home, you're as responsible for it as I am.”

“No, I'm not,” Arnold growled back. “I didn't choose to live here and I sure as hell never agreed to work here. You've had me doing what should be your job since I was six, you pay me next to nothing for the work I do, you ruined my social life and you're killing my future!”

Arnold hadn't realized but his voice had been climbing in volume, and now there was a line of awkward lodgers standing in the hall, not wanting to come in for breakfast. Phil looked shocked, the bills crumpled in his hands, two bright mortified spots on his cheeks. Even Ambrose and Della back in the kitchen had gone silent.

“Well,” Phil said at last. “If that's how you feel....you know where the door is.”

That just made Arnold even angrier. Over the years Arnold had been such a good kid, never given either of his grandparents any trouble, never even been caught smoking or taking a few dollars from a wallet or ditching school. And this was what he got for a lifetime of good behavior.

“Yes, I do,” he said as he stomped past the lodgers to the front door.

[fusionterm]

What To Buy While Remodeling Your Kitchen

CHOOSING A NEW KITCHIN SING

Daily, numerous homeowners input their own kitchen. Regrettably, perhaps not most of those men and women like exactly what they view. If you're not pleased with how the kitchen area seems to be, it can be time to get just a tiny renovation undertaking. Truly, it could even be the time to get a huge renovation undertaking. If it regards kitchen remodeling, then you'll realize that, like a property owner, you still might have an infinite quantity of alternatives. In the event you opt to accomplish this, you might counter everything, down to your destroy.

Talking of kitchen countertops, there's just a fantastic possibility that you personally if you're not pleased with your kitchen, then you might need to get and get a fresh kitchen spout set up. If that's true, you might need to get the one who piques your own interest rate. While looking for a fresh kitchen sink, then you're advised to check out among one's regional DIY merchants. That was just a great likelihood there is certainly a minimum of kitchen sink you could desire to really have. While there's just a great possibility you could discover that the kitchen spout that you dream about at 1 of one's community do it yourself merchants, there's also a possibility you could perhaps not. If that really is true, you can choose to consider shopping on the net.

Irrespective of wherever you store, it's imperative that you maintain quite a few items at heart. Most likely, one of the most essential points to stay in your mind could be your spout dimensions which you want. If you're just changing a kitchen sink, then you can discover that it's only a tiny bit tougher to chance upon a destroy. That really is only because your kitchen countertops has a pre-sized area to get a sink. In the event you acquire a sink which is certainly also huge for this space and sometimes too tiny to it, even a tiny kitchen area remodeling job can develop to a reasonably sizable 1. That's the reason why it's crucial you just take sink measurements under the account. But in case your own kitchen remodeling job consists of fresh kitchen cupboards and fresh countertops, you may possibly perhaps not need to become concerned with sink measurements.

Talking to be captivating, the type of a kitchen-sink maybe not merely comprises the number of basins it's, nonetheless, in addition, it has along with. In spite of the fact that most kitchen countertops include at a stainless steel color, you'll find additional kitchen-sink colors. Other hot colors consist of granite, white, biscuit, and vanilla. In all honesty, the coloration of the brand new kitchen spout may possibly be much more very important for you personally than if it's two or one basins. If you're additionally re-modeling different sections of one's own kitchen, such as the flooring or your countertops, then it can be wise to be certain your brand new kitchen sink compliments your additional fixes or even matches these.

As well as this magnitude of the kitchen sink, so it's likewise essential to regard the fashion. Most kitchen countertops include with just two basins, however, it's likewise feasible that they come together with you. Whenever selecting destroy which just includes two or one basins, then you might need to test your wants. In the event you don't own a dishwasher, then you have to scrub your dishes on the drain. After doing dishes, even it can be less complicated in case you might have a 2 container destroy. Though two container kitchen countertops are somewhat more suitable, you may probably realize that usually, the 1 countertops are somewhat more fashionable as well as marginally, additional appealing.

CHOOSING YOUR NEW KITCHEN CABINET

Have you been bored of opening the exact same kitchen cabinets, even each and every moment? Even though a lot of householders love their own kitchens, even for example their own kitchen cupboards, you can find a number of who're interested in a shift. If you're some of the homeowners, then the people that are searching to get a shift, you can choose to consider remodeling your kitchen area, specially your own kitchen cupboards.

When looking for your ideal collection of kitchen cabinets, even for the following kitchen remodeling endeavor, it's crucial to continue to keep quite a few of items at heart. Some of the activities is everything you're going to use your own kitchen cabinets to get. What it is that you might be employing your own kitchen cupboards for can get an affect which you can and may have. For example, in the event that you'll use your own kitchen cupboards to put away the meal along with your own dishes, you need to be certain you get cupboards that may provide you one of the absolute most distance. While cosmetic kitchen-cabinets are all fine, they truly are some times limited in the space for storing they have.

By trying to keep the aforementioned things at heart that you need to be capable of going outside in order to locate your kitchen cupboard place which you had been searching for. Once you've located your kitchen cupboard collection that you dream about, the renovation may start off. No matter whether you opt to put in your kitchen cabinets or you also let a specialist take action to you personally, your cupboards can possibly be installed as little as just a time or 2.

As well as seeing the community home improvement retail store, you might also desire to test kitchen-cabinets on line. Even though sending for kitchen-cabinets can be deemed quite higher, you might have the ability to detect specifically what you're searching for on line. It's recommended that you simply seek out possibly an on-line do it yourself merchant or a person that specializes for generating their kitchen cupboards. The truth is that in the event that you wish to find a exceptional collection of kitchen cabinets, even a pair you may not locate somewhere else, then you might well be in a position to buy a personalized collection of kitchen cupboards. The price could be significantly more than everything you planned about paying out, however, as mentioned earlier, it's crucial to acquire that which you would like, notably when trimming your kitchen area.

The moment it regards kitchen remodeling, then there's really a familiar misconception that's wrongly considered by most. This false impression is just what kitchen remodeling is. A lot of assume it to redesign a kitchen area that you want to alter everything, by the lighting fixtures all of the way to flooring tiles. Whilst a substantial quantity of house owners don't opt to redesign their own kitchen there are many others that just opt to redesign modest pieces of this. If you wish to redesign your entire kitchen all simultaneously, or even you're simply attempting to remodel part of it, then there's just a great possibility you could well be on the market for fresh kitchen cabinets; nevertheless, they truly are perhaps one among the very most often re-modeled elements of the kitchen.

Though selecting a fresh group of kitchen cupboards can look to be a reasonably simple endeavor, it's really is the one that you simply must not create in an urge. As you are going to soon be stuck together with all these brand new kitchen cabinets, at least before you proceed or opt to redesign back you might be certain you obtain your very first option. Additionally, there really are a lot of distinct ways you may achieve that. To find the optimum outcomes, you might need to come to the community home improvement shop. When seeing among one's community do it yourself merchants, you ought to come across a selection of kitchen-cabinets available; in actuality, you can discover a quite high quantity of those available on exhibit. Seeing every one of these kitchen-cabinets is really a huge approach to settle on which cupboards will appear amazing put in the kitchen.

As well as this magnitude of this space for storing, it's likewise essential to inspect the magnitude of this kitchen cupboard. At the U.S., many DIY outlets sell kitchen-cabinets that aren't fully placed with each other, nevertheless, they're frequently pre-cut into dimensions. It might be feasible to modify the dimensions, nevertheless, you can think it is to be somewhat tough and expensive to achieve that. Even though you may be more worried in regards to the design or color of the kitchen cupboard collection, it's necessary to not forget the fundamentals. The very amazing kitchen cupboard put isn't going to do you some good if it can't be set up on your cooking area.

YOUR LIGHTING OPTION

As well as fans, hanging cooking area lighting are absolutely common. Brick kitchen lighting is sold from just two chief fashions, pendants or ribbons. Pendant light fittings are all bulbs that hang from the ceiling, so frequently in regards to a foot or even longer. Chandelier lighting really is normally a selection of dangling lights that are typically grouped together. If it regards chandelier pendant and lights to your own kitchen, then you may frequently see they are known as miniature lighting. That really is only because the bigger size lighting fittings tend to be overly high to make use of within the majority of kitchens that are standard.

Kitchen area remodeling; yet annually countless homeowners doit. Are you currently wanting to turn into some of these house owners? If you want to redesign each square inch of one's kitchen area or only aspect of it, then there's an adequate likelihood you could well be on the market for kitchen lights that are new. The light seen at a kitchen comes with a substantial effect around the room total air. That's the reason why lots of homeowners, even when remodeling their own kitchens, even create your choice to adjust their kitchen area lighting fittings.

Among the absolute most well-known sorts of lighting to that kitchen have been ceiling lighting fixtures. Ceiling lighting is all light fittings that are connected to the ceiling. Even though they're frequently called the absolute most ordinary sort of light to your own cooking area, that they may be such a thing but normal. Whether you're searching for on the web or in any one of one's community stores, you must get accessibility to tens of thousands of diverse lighting fittings, a number which can be ceiling lamps. The fee of the ceiling lighting will depend upon what kind you opt for however, normally, you'll realize that ceiling lighting would be definitely the absolute most inexpensive of most kitchen lighting fixtures. If you're remodeling your own kitchen onto a budget, then these sorts of lighting could function most useful.

As well as this aforementioned cited kitchen lighting fittings, you might also desire to obtain lights which can be understood as under-cabinet lighting fixture. Under-cabinet lighting is perfect for anyone looking to get a fast bite at the exact middle of the nighttime. If you're purchasing brand new kitchen cabinets, then as a portion of one's own kitchen remodeling job, beneath the cupboard lighting might be the ideal add-on for the brand new cabinets.

When you've decided you may love to buy a miniature pendant lighting, ceiling lighting, or even some miniature chandelier cooking area lighting, you are going to still have to pick the lighting which looks great on the kitchen. As mentioned earlier, it can become a fantastic notion to get started buying a number of one's community do it yourself merchants, however in the event that you wish to find a lighting fixture using a certain layout, then it can be best to look at online.

In the event that you want to know more about changing your cooking area lights, then you'll realize which you personally, literally, you possess an infinite quantity of various alternatives. Toilet lighting, in addition to their fittings, are available in a lot of distinct sizes colors, shapes, sizes, and fashions. Frankly, you will find a number of lots of distinct kitchen lighting fittings to pick from, so you can have a trying time making your mind up. Despite a tough time building the determination, it's imperative that you simply really do. As mentioned earlier, the light at an area includes an important influence on the total caliber of the space, in addition to the method that you'll really feel while indoors it. That's the reason why it's crucial you take the time to investigate most of your decisions, to ensure you may create the ideal decision.

SHOULD YOU GET A DISHWASHER

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Certainly one of many questions inquired concerning remodeling and dishwashers is the way it will be potential, especially following having a renovation strategy have been created. In a few instances, it's going to soon be described as a tiny bit tougher than many others, however, also in different cases, it's going to soon be relatively effortless, especially in the event that your intention is on re-doing your kitchen cupboards. If it regards putting in a dishwasher at the kitchen, then a high quantity of house owners simply eradicate one among these kitchen cupboards or cabinets. This can enable room enough for many conventional size knobs. So, even in the event that you've proposed your renovation, directly down into this previous kitchen flooring tile, then you may nonetheless possess this dishwasher you've already wanted, in the event that it's still true that you need to buy.

[averagemarvelbitch]

Pride and Joy

Summary: AU where Tony Stark has a daughter, but then shit happens.

Future Stony / Somewhat AU

(Posting it again without AO3 link to test something)

CHAPTER ONE

December 19, 1991.

Eighty six hours. Tony hadn’t slept in eighty six hours. He lay there on the king-size bed, looking at the ceiling intently, covered in sweat. Every time he closed his eyes, he would see the car slamming into the tree. He would see his father’s eyes, open and unseeing, blood dripping from his head, skull smashed from colliding into the steering wheel. He would see his mother, always so pristine and proper, with her clothes covered in blood, her head bent over, eyes closed, as if she was silently praying. Obie had warned him that seeing the pictures from the scene wasn’t a good idea, but he needed to see them to actually believe it. Howard had been, as far as Tony could remember, a horrible father and an arrogant piece of shit, but he couldn’t deny he had also been a force of nature. Sometimes, it felt like Howard was this invincible, immortal god who played by no rules except for his own. He survived a war, he built the biggest weapon’s company in the world, he succeeded even when all odds were against him (or, at least, that’s what he told Tony every time they had a fight). It was hard to imagine a simple car crash could ever kill the great Howard Stark. But it did. His father and his beautiful, loving mother were gone. And Tony was alone.

Sometimes, lying there on the bed, alone, he swore he could hear his mother’s voice, sweet and calm, singing one of those old Italian lullabies from when he was just a boy. Other times, he could smell her perfume in the air. He sat abruptly on the bed, violently wiping the tears that threatened to fall from his eyes. He was a Stark. And Stark men were made of iron. If Howard was here, he would say men don’t cry, they take action instead. His mother, though, would reassure him that tears are more than acceptable when the pain is too much to bear. But nobody was here to tell him anything. And so Tony got up and left his bedroom.

The mansion had always felt too big, too empty. It had never truly felt like home. But now, it felt like a coffin, its walls confining him, engulfing him, making it harder to breathe. He went down to the kitchen and opened the fridge, taking a bottle of water. Looking around, he thought about Jarvis, whom he had lost two years ago. Everyone leaves, he thought, closing his eyes, everyone always leaves. He looked at the clock and sighed. It was 3 am and still sleep wouldn’t come. He had never felt so tired before in his life. He ditched the water and walked straight to Howard’s office. He needed sleep and maybe a bottle of whiskey would help. It wasn’t like Howard was ever going to drink it anyway.

December 25, 1991.

Christmas had once been a very big affair in his house. Howard and Maria would throw a big, fancy party every year. They’d invite every one of their friends, Jarvis and Anna would cook a formidable meal and there’d be music, and alcohol and talks about the companies, and the vacations spent at Switzerland skiing, and the renovating of the already perfectly good mansions. Tony would stand there, in his best suit, a forced smile on his lips, while his father talked and talked about his latest accomplishments. Did you know Tony got into MIT? At fifteen, if you’d believe it. Oh, yes, yes, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, huh? Howard always did that. Complimenting Tony in front of others, but, behind closed doors, making sure he knew he was nothing special, that he could do better. It was annoying, but Tony played the part. He knew the importance of keeping appearances in this world, had been taught that at a very young age. And so he had gone to every party, every single year until he finally left for college and never looked back, spending Christmas at Rhodey’s house instead, eating homemade cookies and drinking hot chocolate with marshmallows.

This is my first Christmas alone, he thought and then snorted loudly, once more filling his glass with whiskey. It was ridiculous to think this was his first time spending Christmas alone. He had always been alone. Even when the house was full and the music played through the night, he still felt utterly alone. This was no different, really. He looked at the piano in the middle of the room and thought about his mother, her long, skilled fingers gently pressing the keys, her eyes closed, completely focused on the music, a small smile on her lips. If I had known that was the last time I’d hear you play, I’d have paid more attention.

He walked to the piano, sitting at the bench. He caressed the keys and took a deep breath, then closed his eyes and started playing. She’d always ask him to play on Christmas. You play so beautifully, Anthony. She’d say every time, with a smile that could warm the room. And Tony could never deny her. He felt the tears coming down his cheeks as he played her favorite piece, and then suddenly it was too much and he slammed his hands on the keys, the loud sound echoing through the big empty house. The tears came freely now as Tony sobbed, head on his hands, unable to calm himself down.

The next morning, Obie came to visit. He found Tony in the music room, bottles and more bottles all around him, and the piano smashed to pieces.

May 29, 1992.

Everything was loud. The music, the guests, everything. His head felt like it was going to explode, but it didn’t matter. He took another generous sip from the bottle in his hand and laughed at something his friend, Tiberius, said. He was lucky to have met Ty, especially now with Rhodey on the other side of the world, fighting wars that couldn’t be won. Tony wished he was here, and even offered Rhodey to call some higher ups and get him a free pass to come and celebrate his birthday, but Rhodey denied, saying he didn’t want to piss off anyone just yet.

And so Tony danced, and drank, and ended up having sex with a girl whose name he didn’t know in the men’s bathroom. And the next morning he woke up as he usually did, with a horrible hangover, in a bed that wasn’t his own, with a man and a woman he didn’t remember going home with.

September 15, 1992.

After a few too many scandals and a lot of meetings and deadlines forgotten, Obie insisted that Tony needed a personal assistance, personally interviewing and selecting five candidates for the future CEO of Stark Industries to choose. One of them was Pepper Potts. The minute Tony entered the room for his interview with her, she severely reprimanded him on his lateness and told him, without hesitation, that she was the best of the best and she would not, under any circumstances, sleep with him. I’m here to do a job, Mr. Stark, she said, shoulders back, head high and back straight, and that job is to make sure you at least resemble a functioning human being so if we’re going to work together, this will be the last time you arrive late at a previously scheduled meeting, do we understand one another? Tony, of course, hired her on the spot.

It was Pepper’s second month working for Tony and she had only threatened to murder him four times (I make your schedule, Mr. Stark, I can make it look like an accident, don’t think I can’t) which, all in all, was as good as it could be. Thanks to her efficiency, Tony missed less meetings and deadlines (because not even the great Pepper Potts could turn Tony Stark into a complete functioning human) and became more productive and less erratic. He was getting better, feeling more like himself with each passing day, and starting to believe that life could, in fact, be normal again. And that was, of course, when everything came crushing down.

It was a clouded morning and Tony was, as usual, tinkering away in his workshop. He’d spent the night trying to solve a particularly difficult problem with a missile he’d recently designed for SI. The lack of sleep and food (he didn’t even remember the last time he’d eaten something) were making him tired and irritated, which did not bode well for poor DUM-E, who was in time out, standing in a corner with a cone of shame on his head, having been sent there after he tried to feed Tony a smoothie full of motor oil and bananas.

Tony was so focused on the task at hand that he didn’t even hear the door to the workshop opening, or the clicking sound of Pepper’s heels on the cold floor. She called him three times, without any answer, before she reached him and snapped her fingers in front of his face. He slowly blinked twice, looking very annoyed with the interruption.

“I thought we were at lockdown over here. JARVIS?” he asked, turning on his chair.

“I’m afraid Miss Potts has the code that overrides the lockdown protocol, sir”, His AI responded with a hint of humor in his voice.

“I have someone here who wants to talk to you…”

“Busy, Pepper, I’m busy…”

“She says you two slept together and now she’s pregnant.” Pepper continued, completely ignoring Tony. “She’s been calling me for weeks, but this time she threatened to call the press and tell them you’re refusing to…”

“…they always say that, you know that, I don’t understand why…”

“…acknowledge your child and this could become a PR nightmare…”

“…you keep insisting on bothering me when I’m clearly busing changing the world over here…”

“…so please, just take five minutes, go upstairs and fix this because I’m not your babysitter, Mr. Stark…”

“…and it’s like you don’t even listen to me, really, Miss Potts…”

“TONY!” Pepper said firmly, giving Tony a look that means business. “Upstairs. Right now.”

Without much of a choice, but with a very exaggerated roll of his eyes, Tony got up, throwing his red screwdriver on the table and walking towards the stairs, Pepper right behind him.

The woman was sitting on the couch, throwing nervous looks at Happy, who kept glaring at her from a distance. Tony could not for the life in him remember her, which was a good sign. Another crazy woman after money, he thought, walking into the room. The woman got up as soon as she saw him, and Tony asked Pepper and Happy for some privacy.

“I’ll be right in the next room, boss”, said Happy, giving the woman one last glare before Pepper, rolling her eyes, grabbed his arm and pulled him out of the room.

Tony sat down beside the woman. “You don’t remember me, do you?” she asked, an incredulous look on her face.

“Don’t take it personally. I don’t remember what I had for breakfast this morning”.

“You didn’t have any breakfast, sir”, JARVIS intervened, “The last time you ate something other than blueberries was 16 hours ago”.

Tony rolled his eyes fondly at his AI’s tone of disapproval. “So, who are you again?”

The woman looked incredibly offended when she answered. “I’m Diana. We met last month at the Firefighter’s benefit Stark Industries threw. You were drunk and we had sex in the balcony”, she explained.

THAT he remembered. Suddenly, Tony’s mind was filled with moans and the very distinctive image of licking a bird tattoo near a perky tanned ass. “Right. Diana. And you’re pregnant now, right? And what, I’m just supposed to believe that?”

Diana, now looking thoroughly pissed, opened her purse and took a piece of paper, almost shoving it in Tony’s face. “Here’s the blood test. I’ll be happy to do another one with a doctor you choose. AND a paternity test, of course”.

Tony took the piece of paper, reading the words, but not fully comprehending them. This is new, he thought while Diana sat there, looking awfully smug. The women who claimed they’re pregnant with his child usually didn’t bring a blood test. And, when told they would have to go through a paternity test, would normally cry and accuse Tony of being a terrible, horrible man for not believing them. So, naturally, the fact that Diana was apparently ready to take any test Tony saw fit slightly worried him.

“What are you doing right now? My assistant can get you an appointment with a doctor so you can take the necessary tests”.

“Right now? Perfect. The sooner we confirm this, the better”, Diana answered, getting up. Tony got up as well and Pepper appeared at the door, looking professional as always.

“JARVIS said you needed me”.

“Yes”, he answered, running his hand through his hair, “see if you can make an appointment for Diana here, so we can check the facts”.

“Already done it, Mr. Stark. Happy is waiting outside to take her to the clinic. I’ll be accompanying her”.

Tony had never been more grateful for Pepper’s efficiency. “Thank you, miss Potts”.

Diana nodded her head towards Tony, saying a quiet goodbye and leaving the room with Pepper. As soon as they were off sight, Tony let himself fall on the couch, head on his hands, and a worried expression on his face. All he could do now was wait.

(For more, click on the “pride and joy” tag OR ask me for the AO3 link)

[queenfayesky]

~Finishing up old tasks~

{Flashback- 4 of the month of September in the year of 2019-

Now And Always~ part 2[WATTPAD]

ch4 discovering rooms}

While her beloved napped, she kissed his cheek softly once she knew he was slumbering and silently climbed out of their bed. She lifted her skirts to softly patter from their room to allow her husband peaceful slumber from his days away from their home and his girls. She turns briefly to look back at him at their doorway before stepping from their room.

She heads up the stairs at the far end of the their Manosque cottage. She looks up the worn staircase that hasn't even been explored since they had moved into this quaint little house in the country, and decides to quietly head up. Holding her skirt in one hand as she climbs the stairs, holding the thin wooden railing in the other. The stairs creaking as she stepped carefully up she looks down at them, shushing them as she goes.

At the top, she sees a few more rooms to be discovered. She smiles and looks around realizing how long this place must have sat alone and unlived in before they were able to acquire it.

"Wow..." as she slid her fingers slowly along the faded and peeling paint on the hallway wall. She walks down to the first room and looks around it.

Parts of the ceiling had crumbled in this room but, the windows were beautifully ornate and only worn in their paint. She looked up at the ceiling thinking on the beautiful paintwork she might be able to add to such a room. Maybe they could turn this into another bedroom, or even change it into a library. The more she thought on it, the library sounded more appropriate as the windows and the view. She smirks to herself, unless they moved their bedroom to this higher floor and have the better view of the grounds. She let's out a soft giggle and then turns on her heel to check the other rooms.

The next two rooms were identical in style and size with a small door between them. She smiles as she thinks on just how perfect this could be for their girls. And how they can take their time fixing it up for them so as they got old enough, they would be ready in the renovations for them to have their own rooms. Each room had a small balcony with tall windows going from the floor to the ceiling. A little bit of paint would do the trick and then she thought on the beautiful beds she saw back in town they might be able to bring in for them.

She gave a little happy twirl to her thoughts and headed further down the hall to the last room.

She peeked inside to find a lonely desk and chair set. This room barely touched with anything else. Only some cosmetic work needed in here. She imagines another bedroom possibly in this room. This one had no balcony. But the same style of tall windows. She turns to head back downstairs to grab a broom. Smiling and happy in her discovery, she figures she may as well start to a cleaning of this quaint new rooms of theirs before she started painting them. Thia would give her something to do while her beloved slept. Or even while he was away on his business affairs for these longer periods of time he has been doing.

She picks up the broom form the corner of the kitchen and turns to head back upstairs to begin sweeping the rest of the afternoon.

~~~~

Ch 5 ~ setting to work

After the day before's discovery of new rooms and their condition, she set out early the next morning to fix them up further. She starts with the two identical rooms she feels would be perfect for their twins. Not too much work was going to be needed in these rooms, she planned out her task as she carried the bucket of water up the stairs with the washing clothes and the mop. She already had a waste basket in another room from where she left off the other day.

She sets the bucket in a corner and turns to the other room to grab the waste basket and the broom. She hums the tune from their first meetings and twirls around the room as she sweeps the old piles of dirt, dust, and crumbling plaster along the floor. Smiling as she goes, she scoops it all up in a swift motion and then pauses with the broom stick in her hand. She sways the broomstick slightly as she stands in the middle of the room once she was done, thinking out loud on her next task to be done.

She bites the corner of her lip slightly as she looks at the room before her, now all swept. "I think I saw some cream colored paint in the small shed in the yard," she thinks out loud to herself, turning to rest the broom against the wall to head back down the stairs.

She lifts the front corner of her skirts as she glides her way down the stairs and out the side door to the small courtyard right off of the cottage. She looks over to the far end where a tiny one door, faded green shed stood with a tiny window on the side wall. With a nod, she makes her way across the courtyard to the shed.

She tugged on the shed door and grunted softly to herself when it didn't give easy to her pull. "Stubborn humidity," she mumbled as she reminded herself as to why the door may have given her trouble. She turned her hand slightly lifting the door another way to pull it once again. This time, the door gave way to her efforts and she sighed with relief.

She stood in the door way, peering inside, looking for the one can of paint she thought she saw some time ago. The sunlight filtered through the tiny window as the dust particles danced quietly around the air. She waved a spider web out of her path as she stepped inside to get a better look. She had some of the web land on her face that caused her to make a squeamish face as waved it quickly away.

She shakes her head as she fixes herself from the web attack and continues further into the shed. She stepped around some old boxes she still needed to look through, left behind by the previous owners and sees the can of her quest. She grabs it up and heads back out of the shed, leaving it partially open so it would not get stuck on her again later.

She carries it back up the stairs after she grabs a large paint brush on her way. She spent the rest of the morning painting and touching up spots around the room before she grabs the paint roller for the higher to reach spots. Then she does the same to the next room.

When she walks through the door between the rooms, she discovers there is really a small bathroom with a door at each end to the respective rooms. She smiles at her new discovery and thinks on more plans to be done. She works quickly now as she finds more things to be done upstairs and wants to have as much done to surprise her beloved at all of her hard workings while he goes about his business affairs.

At the end of her busy day, she drags her water bucket over to the new bathroom and empties it down the drain, listening to make sure the pipes were still in working order. Happy in her thoughts, she sets the bucket in the tub and heads back downstairs to shower and change into cleaner clothing for the early evening before fixing meals for herself and their girls.

She spent the quiet late afternoon in the gardens with their daughters before it was time to tell them stories and lullabies for bed. She rests her eyes to their snuggles as she gently rocked them to their peaceful slumbers, dreaming partly on how beautiful she was going to transform their new rooms upstairs.

~~~

Ch 6- finishing touches

Some days later, after fixing up trim and wood and replacing small things she can handle on her own, she grabs up her small brushes and canvas paints to bring up with her. She has already done the base of a cream white along all the walls for both of the twins new rooms to be. She wanted to make some murals along parts on the walls next.

She looks around the first room and thinks of where to begin. She places her finger along her chin a moment and then heads over to the small wall leading into a walk in closet.

It was the right size to bring in some nature. They girls loved the gardens as much as she did. So she thought a tree would be lovely to add before their closets. She sets to work all morning making a scene along the first closet entry before turning to the other. Each in turn to allow the layers time to dry before beginning the next layer. Completing both sections in each room at one time.

She pauses in her work to run down and fix a small snack and check up on how the girls were doing being watched over by a trusted castle worker she invited over to help while she worked on her task at hand.

Satisfied knowing all was quiet and well, she set back to her workings.

She started on a scene along the longest wall in both of the rooms. Taking turns in her layers once again. The rooms may be painted identical for them, but she was secretly leaving slight differences in each room as a subtle surprise for them to discover as they grow.

As the day passes along, she finally gets to the final corners and towards to entry of the rooms, overlooking the landing below. She day dreams momentarily as she paints along, thinking on what she may do next. She envisioned painting and adding a small bench in the nooks along the hallway up here. Maybe adding some planters to bring in the outdoors as well.

She thought of another tree with such benches. Complimenting in shades. she thought to visit the village later in the week, to find the perfect light fixtures to be added up here soon. She had a feeling she will have to place some orders for such things she will be looking for. But that will also help her to pass the time as well. She set her brushes down and looked into the room she stood in. She smiled to herself as she admired the handiwork she just did all day.

Wiping her brow with the back of her hand, she fathered up a cloth to clean herself up some and went to clean her brushes to put away.

Tomorrow is another day. And there were still more rooms to be completed.

----

Present day-

~*having started on the upstairs rooms right after her discovery on them in their cozy little cottage in ᴹᵃᶰᵒˢᵠᵘᵉ the year before, she slowly strolled up the very staircase she walked up almost that very first time a year ago. This time, the railing and stairs having been repaired to her specifications, now lavishly oiled and finished in rich Mahogany wood with inlaid golden leaves patterned to scroll along the handrail all along the railing. No more creaky sounds as she made her way up the stairs. She smiled to herself as she played the palm of her hand along the rich wood, smooth under her hand. She breathed in deep a contented sigh in the beautiful feeling under her fingers as she walked up the stairs.

Her paints now waiting for her at the top of the stairs, she paused once she reached the landing, bent down to puck them up from the floor where they waited and carried them off to the smaller room that she still had to complete in renovations. By now, in the times of their travels and time in NOLA, the workers should have had all her requested completed. She smiled in her hum as she stepped into the doorway. A blank canvas of creme colored walls now awaited for her. The lonely desk and chair still sat in the room, but now the trim was all replaced around the windows, newly rich wood in place of the worn and rotting wood once there. The floors refinished and sealed, glowed in the afternoon sunlight that came in through the bare windows that stood floor to ceiling. She set her brushes and paints down in the desk and grabbed the drop cloth in both her hands.

She made a tiny hop in her steps as she floated across, a twirl as she opened the cloth up and waved it out, allowing it to float onto the polished floor in front of the wall she chose to work on. This side, she planned to paint a mural of soft blues.

She fluttered back to the desk, picked up her pallette and mixed up assorted shades of blues, then made her way back to the wall waiting for its new creation. She set the brush into the paint, swirling a little more to ensure the perfect shade of her desire. Then, she set the brush against the wall. Smoothly and delicately, her brushstrokes flowed along the wall, creating swiftly shadowed trees along the ceiling, draping downward towards the centers. Next, she added more creme, to accent bamboo like leaves along with contrasting darker blues to add to such shadowed forest. She stepped back to admire the details as she went, wanting to make sure she did not miss a thing in her work.

She fluttered off to the desk, now grabbing black to mix with blue to create a magically darker blue.

She came back to meet the wall where she left it, placing her brush back to kiss the wall. Smooth strokes more deliberate now starting to make beautiful deer heads with majestic antlers, reminding her of the times she would come across them in her walks in the woods about the grounds or even back on the island of realms. Most importantly, the white stag. Regal and alone as the others frolic about in their ways/ watching over them all in turn. Same in her thoughts, these would watch over those who were to slumber in this room later on.

Once complete, she set the brush into the Mason jar of water, mixing it around to clean the brush, making the water turn black in the paint. She peeked behind her st her creation and smiled.* I do hope my beloved corazón @adaptablecharm will find a moment to peek in on this. Perhaps this can become a bedroom later on.

*she softly spoke in a near whisper to herself as she wiped her hands in a rag and then turned to head back downstairs to continue in other tasks of the day.

Especially a stop to the bakery and butcher in their village for more treats for the evening that approached soon. Perhaps more on the fig and blood orange treat from the other night would be fitting. She smiled as she closed the door partway and headed off..*