#and I thought I ran that place because I was the oldest resident and new the head woman there

[chakazard]

I went to see Patti Smith for the third time, because she is far too important a part of my personal mythology not to. Patti Smith is a guide post on my journey to discover myself. She made the world safe for stubborn awkward clarinet playing poet/rock stars and I may not be in her debt but in some small way follow in these footsteps. She is someone who exudes spirituality with every syllable and then turns around, spitting, declaring that she will not sell her soul to god, furious at the presumption of Jesus that he thought he had the rights to die for her sins! Patti butterflies between genres and genders and media without affixing herself to any of them. Considering the river of influence flows both ways, she exists in the center of the Venn diagram between all my favorite flavors of poetry and rock, the two art forms which speak directly to my soul.

Patti Smith is one of the most dynamic, transcendent, and evocative performers alive, and her powers may have only grown with age. The Field Marshal still leading the charge of rock n roll against the enemies of care and creativity. She opened with Dancing Barefoot, and the sound was a spiritual experience. She commanded energy and attention from everyone in the room and fed it back to us filtered through her voice. Lenny Kaye is still standing to her left after all this time and being one of the coolest fuckers to ever touch six strings. For the first few songs, she seemed ageless and eternal, repeatedly abusing her mic stand and commanding the attention of everyone in the room, (Free Money was twice as loud and fast as the record, and while Lenny and Tony Shanhan sing more lead vocals than you might expect, her voice hasn't lost any of its strength). Patti then had to interrupt the show to change her socks because they were bunching up in her shoes and making her uncomfortable ("I'm not dancing like this because I'm intoxicated, I have a sock problem!") which probably made this the most unique show I have ever attended and I loved it. It was a very human and relatable moment and Patti even made changing her socks seem artistic. She then followed that up with a positively beautiful rendition of Because the Night that brought a tear or two to my eye.

Partway through, Patti took a break and her band ran through a medley of songs about time including an unexpected but delightful Cher cover from Shanahan before the boss came back for the last half of Time Is On My Side. Patti sounded like the oldest being on Earth for a cover of Dylan's One Too Many Mornings and then got possessed by the Spirit of Fucking Itself (which popped into Lenny for a fiery guitar solo, then returned) for an unbelievably vibrant and sexual performance of Ain't It Strange. Afterwards, a cake was presented and balloons were dropped. Let me tell you. Nothing is as blissful or addictive as batting balloons around! It doesn't matter that I'm an adult surrounded by strangers. The excitement I felt whenever a balloon came close enough to hit was such a strangely tangible expression of joy. A blistering cover of the Chamber Brothers' Time Has Come Today gave way to an impassioned rant in which Patti got so invested in screaming to encourage the crowd to DO SOMETHING and make this bullshit world a better place, weaving lines of poetry in amongst primal yells, that she missed a few cues and the segue into People Have the Power. That gave her a sin to ask penance for "for fucking up the last 14 and a half minutes… but in my defense it was 14 and a half minutes of pure unadulterous joy!" (or did she say adulterous?). Her daughter Jesse joined the band to took up residence at the piano and they gave us a rendition of Gloria to shake heaven and Earth. Jay Dee Dougherty gave us a blistering drumming performance that was just as mind-blowing as it was in 1975 and Patti left us with one of the greatest things I have ever heard a human say in person. "People! A new year is coming! Be righteous! Use your voice!

Be good! AND BE REALLY FUCKING BAD!" There's my Patti, the one who sees both sides and that neither one is correct but they are two sides of the same thing. I left amidst the sounds of popping balloons, picked up a copy of Patti's new photography book, and headed back to the train, feeling like I had no fears and no limitations, and if I could only keep this feeling then I would look back a year from now and know that 2023 was one hell of a year, for me and for humanity. I talked to my sister a couple of days later and she said she had a friend who also attended and walked away with the same feeling. It was palpable, walking away from the venue, hearing the odd stomp of a balloon being burst. All people find their best selves in different ways. Patti Smith, as a performer, a poet, a concept, and someone victorious over 76 years on Earth, helps me see mine.

#chaknroll #Patti Smith #lenny kaye #live music review #new york punk rock

[ramzawrites]

can i request an angsty sbi fic where sibling reader lost two lives saving others (maybe tubbo at the festival?) and they see everything falling apart (techno and phil destroying everything, wilbur dead and tommy focused on the disks) and they pretend to be ok while their mental health gets worse and worse until they decide to end it, and people only realise they weren't okay after the death message pops up and their reactions to seeing it? if not thats completely fine, ik its pretty heavy

Broken

GN

Pairings: none

Characters included: Wilbur, Tommy, Philza, Tubbo, Technoblade

Warnings: depression, suicide (falling, non descriptive), angst

Series: a request!

Summary: Y/N just wanted their home back. They just wanted to live a peaceful life but instead all their hopes and dreams got ripped apart by the people they loved the most.

Words count: 3647

Authors Note: Honestly I could have shortened it quite a bit but here we are, it’s way longer than I wanted but I hope you guys enjoy this. I’m sorry if this went kind off of rails to what you might have envisioned. Also I hope that you guys know that you are loved and appreciated. I appreciate you for taking the time to read my stuff :] Here is m favorite video to cheer me up some times, hope it can cheer you up as well!

I’m also curious what your guys thoughts and opinion are on this or my writing in general! Can’t get better without feedback :]

Y/N loved their family.

They were all pretty chaotic but so was Y/N, following their siblings into trouble ignoring any possible consequences.

So when Wilbur proclaimed he would create an independent Nation inside the SMP that was owned by Dream himself, you bet that Y/N was standing right beside him.

When Wilbur would struggle with his tasks or was weighed down by doubts they would swoop right in and do their best to support him. Every time Wilbur would say “I don’t know what I would do without you sometimes.” While Y/N didn’t do it for praise but out of love for him it was still nice knowing that he appreciated them and that he took note of their work.

Tommy wasn’t really for heartfelt words but he too expressed in his own way how much he appreciated them being around. Most of his schemes wouldn’t have even happened without Y/N’s help after all. As a way to say thanks he would let them just take stuff fout his chets or when he heard they needed a specific resource he would wander out and get it for them. Of course saying something on the lines of “I was out there anyhow, so I brought some with me. It was on the way.” Y/N could read between the lines though. They grew up with him after all.

Y/N put so much energy into L’Manberg they couldn’t help but be in love with this little nation. They would do everything to protect their home.

When Y/N lost their first life it was together with their siblings protecting their nephew Fundy.

The Dream Team suddenly retreated after another battle against L’Manberg. While the group was celebrating what they thought was their first victory in ages, Eret appeared. She told the group of a small bunker with more resources.

Still celebrating Wilbur, Y/N, Tommy, Tubbo and Fundy made their way towards the bunker. The bunker that would later go down into history as “The Final Control Room.”

Inside they all looked at the labeled chests only to notice that they were empty. Eret then pressed a button which opened up secret walls with the Dream Team standing behind. She herself got into safety as Dream and his friends merciless attacked the L’Manberg faction.

As soon as Y/N understood what was happening they did their best to form a wall between the attackers and Fundy. Slowly pushing him out of the room while they made sure to block the exit, giving the Fox Hybrid enough time to run away.

When they woke up again it was inside their home. In L’Manberg. Sore from the respawning.

Once they did respawn though it didn’t take long for Fundy to barge into their room and throw himself against them, thanking them. Wilbur was close by, looking worse for wear as well but incredible thankful nonetheless.

After that and a few battles more Tommy challenged Dream to a duel in order to secure independence. He lost so instead he bartered his music discs for freedom.

After Tommy respawned a second time Y/N made sure to spent most of their time hovering around him. Making sure he was doing alright.

But with that L’Manberg was independent and it was Y/N’s time to shine. Sure, they worked hard on strengthening the infrastructure of the nation but now, maybe even because of that, they basically coordinated all the new builds.

Shops, homes and other things were being build with them overseeing it. Meanwhile Wilbur and Tommy took care of the political part only to come to the conclusion that they had to have a proper election.

At first it started innocently enough as well. New political parties were made that begun advertising themselves. Funny enough they would always come to Y/N asking them where they could hang up their posters. It was then that Y/N realized that the people saw them as some sort of authority, even asking them if they wanted to start their own campaign. They politely declined, saying they worked best as a support role.

Then Schlatt entered the stage and everything got thrown upside down.

In the end he managed to become the next president via a coalition and his first declaration as the president, or emperor as he called himself, was to exile Tommy and Wilbur.

As they ran for their life Y/N didn’t hesitate to follow. It hurt them so much to leave L’Manberg, their fruit and labor, behind. This only got worse once they realized that Tubbo was basically left alone back at the city under Schlatt’s rule.

Then Pogtopia got established.

Tommy, Wilbur and Y/N did their best to get a proper foothold again. Gathering resources and planning for ways to get their home back. And to accomplish this they soon called in the oldest sibling of the group, Technoblade.

Techno has been away for the longest time now. He moved out early to travel the world and apparently train himself. Somehow Tommy found a way to get a message to him, so he made his way towards Pogtopia.

He wasn’t big on words or emotions but as soon as he arrived he let Y/N hug him.

“This is a onetime deal, Y/N.”

With Techno they finally felt like they had a chance. Y/N could maybe return home someday. Back when they were children Techno always looked out for them so to have him back Y/N felt infinitely safer.

All the while Wilbur showed more and more signs that his mental health was rapidly declining. Y/N did their best trying to cheer him up but there was only so much they could do. Especially since they themself were struggling.

L’Manberg was their everything and now it was under the iron rule of Schlatt. They had to watch as Schlatt walked through the nation, ripping apart builds that they commissioned or even built themself. Every time he did something like that it felt like another stab wound directly into their heart.

Then the festival happened where Y/N lost their second life protecting Tubbo.

Schlatt wanted to apparently celebrate democracy and his amazing rule. Tommy and Wilbur weren’t allowed to join while Techno and Y/N received an invitation.

Y/N was very wary of that. They learned from Tubbo that Schlatt apparently was pretty interested in bringing them over to Manberg since a lot of the residents trusted them and saw them more as an authority than Schlatt himself, so bringing them over would probably also bring a lot of the residents around to his rule.

On the day of the festival Y/N made sure to stay close to Techno. Holding on to his arm and basically hiding behind him, not feeling up to talk with all the people in Manberg.

The people were happy to see them but Y/N was tired. They haven’t slept properly ever since the exile, too many thoughts that kept them awake.

Then the speeches started.

Honestly Y/N wasn’t really listening, their attention purely on a broken old building. It used to be the place where Y/N and the other residents would meet up and map out their plans for new builds. Discussing and even sometimes arguing on what materials should be used and where to get them. Now it was empty.

Their attention got pulled back towards what was actually happening once Tubbo begun speaking. It was a nice little speech Y/N had to admit.

Just as Tubbo was about to leave, Schlatt moved back in. Holding him in place and pushing him in something that Y/N had to describe as a cage with the help of Quackity.

“Techno, buddy. Come up here for a sec.”

Technoblade tensed up but still moved towards the stage. There Schlatt uttered the words that pulled the rug out from beneath Y/N once again.

“Kill him Techno. He is a traitor.”

“Don’t you dare!” Y/N yelled out, making their way towards the stage as well.

Y/N knew Techno couldn’t deal well with social pressure, especially when there were about ten people or more behind him that could attack him at any point.

Tubbo looked so scared as he pressed himself against the wall. There was no escape for him.

When Techno moved his crossbow up, aiming directly at Tubbo, Y/N let out another scream. Urging him to stop.

Explosions. Colorful explosions filled the place.

“Y/N!” it was Tubbo screaming their name out.

Just as Techno pressed the trigger Y/N managed to jump in front, the rockets hitting them instead of Tubbo.

Their older brother looked absolutely mortified “Y/N? Wha- What? Why? How?” staring at Y/N’s lifeless body that slowly dissolved. They were slowly respawning but seeing his siblings body was enough to send him in some sort of frenzy.

Filled with bloodlust he aimed his crossbow towards Schlatt and Quackity. Killing them with one press of the trigger only to turn around and aim his crossbow towards the people.

As this happened Tommy enderpearled over, screaming at Techno.

He helped Tubbo out of the cage who was still in a state of shock. He only saw Y/N for a second and the next they were laying on the ground in their own blood.

Y/N heard the details later after they respawned. Tommy had apparently been incredibly angry at Techno, even attacking him. Wilbur then offered that the two deal with their argument via a fistfight inside a pit.

Normally Y/N would have yelled at Wilbur for that. Would have told him that this was his dumbest idea yet but they were too shook from what had happened to them.

Technoblade always spelled safety to them but he killed them. Sure, he meant to kill Tubbo but that didn’t really make it any better. They gave him an out, they would have helped fighting off all these people so they could flee.

The next time they saw Techno they flinched every time he got too close to them and yet they still put on a smile “Never, do this again.”

Techno only nodded.

After this downward slope the momentum didn’t seem to stop for them. Wilbur dropped even more and more off. Falling victim to his paranoia. Y/N tried their best convincing him to not blow up Manberg, that they will fight to gain it back. At this point trying to gain back their L’Manberg was the only thing they could hold on to.

Though all that work was for nothing.

The war to take back L’Manberg went way differently than they all had imagined. Y/N fought with a viciousness most didn’t think they had it in them. This was the day for them to finally regain what they had wished for, for the longest time now.

Everything came to a halt once Dream surrendered. He showed them Schlatt who was sitting in the Carmavan. Drunk off his mind he yelled and screamed at people only to die of a heart attack which meant that the Pogtopia faction won.

The people begun cheering, they had their home back! They were free! Y/N was probably the loudest by far. It felt like a huge weight was lifted from their shoulders. All this hardship and they could finally return to working with the others and rebuild L’Manberg. Return it to its former glory.

Tubbo got appointed President and Y/N was happy with it. Tubbo had an eye for building and was a good person, with him they were sure they could do some amazing things.

Apparently Techno thought otherwise. Instead he pulled Soulsand out, holding onto the Wither skulls as a visible threat.

Y/N had somewhat forgiven Techno for what had happened. It was a stressful situation and they acknowledged it but seeing him there, threatening to kill all of them? That they knew they couldn’t forgive quite so easy. Especially since he made some sound points but it was their L’Manberg. The people didn’t like living under Schlatt’s rule, this wasn’t something that could be described simply as a coup. Technically he was right but only technically. There were so many things that came into play that could let you argue over that but Techno would have none of it. Yelling something about Tommy only wanting to be a hero.

When the first explosions rang Y/N thought it came from a Wither but Techno was still in the middle of putting the heads onto the structure.

When more explosions rang and the ground beneath their feet broke away, Y/N understood what had happened.

At some point Wilbur ran off and must have pressed the button. The button that set the TNT beneath the city ablaze, effectively destroying everything.

Y/N was too busy with finding hard ground again and then dealing with the Withers and Techno that they only noticed after the fighting ended, how broken the nation was now.

They had won. Why would Wilbur do this? He knew how much the nation meant to them and again, they had won, so there was no reason for blowing the place up!

And if that wasn’t enough to see how both their older brothers destroyed everything Y/N worked for, they also had to see how Philza, their father, stood next to the corpse of Wilbur. It felt like they lost everything.

They lost their trust in Technoblade.

They lost their hopes and dreams via Wilbur blowing up the freshly liberated L’Manberg.

They lost their trust in their own father who had slain his own son.

Y/N felt absolutely crushed. Family was so important to them and it was their own family that destroyed their hopes and dreams. They did everything for them and this is how they repaid them?

Once everything calmed down and Tubbo begun making plans on how to rebuild the nation, he immediately came to Y/N for help but they hesitated which worried him.

“Is everything okay? Usually you would have jumped on that offer, Y/N.”

Y/N put on a smile that didn’t seem to reach their eyes “Don’t worry Tubbo, of course I’ll help you. I’m just tired from what we have been through. I finally have time to take a breather and I think it all just crashed down on me.”

“Well if you ever need help you can talk to me.” It was an earnest offer that Y/N would never take advantage of.

Y/N mostly ignored Philza. He talked with them a few times and even explained what has happened but Y/N still made a wide berth around him. Seeing him just hammered back down the feeling of distrust and hurt. Their familial relationship took a hard hit from that point on.

With Ghostbur it was a weird situation as well. They enjoyed spending time with him but were also always incredibly sad around him. Ghostbur took notice of this and would always offer them to take some of his blue but Y/N declined every time.

“Don’t worry Ghostbur. Everything is still just fresh in my mind. I’ll be back to my old self in no time. You take care of yourself, you hear?”

“Of course Y/N! You have always looked out for me, thank you.”

L’Manberg slowly took on a proper form again but it wasn’t the L’Manberg Y/N knew. It felt to them like they were standing on top of a grave. A grave for their dreams and it was getting hard, real hard, to walk through it every day seeing places where they know specific buildings should be standing. Buildings they build on their own only to be destroyed by their brothers doing.

Then Tubbo exiled Tommy and Y/N felt conflicted. They felt obligated to stay in L’Manberg since they were the main person people came to for builds but that was their brother. Their only brother they still trusted and felt a need to protect.

Instead of following him into exile they stayed in the city. Visiting Tommy whenever they could, noticing pretty fast that he was struggling hard with his situation and for once they didn’t feel strong enough to properly support him. Y/N tried their best but once they noticed they couldn’t reach him completely they gave up a tiny bit.

It reminded them too much of Wilbur.

So while they visited him and helped them where they could, they spent more and more time alone in their home only coming out for work and other necessary things like food. Soon it was normal to see them with ever present dark circles beneath their eyes.

Before Philza disappeared to join Techno, he would stop by Y/N’s home all the time.

“Have you eaten, yet?”

“Yes, dad. I’m an adult. I can take care of myself.”

“I just haven’t seen you much lately and I got worried.”

“Don’t worry. I’m fine. Hey, if you go out, please, can you tell Ghostbur to stop coming around to throw Blue inside my mailbox? He won’t listen to me but perhaps he will to you.” And they would always carry the same big smile on their face accompanied by empty eyes.

The only time their happiness reached their eyes again was when Tommy returned from his exile. They crashed into their younger sibling holding him close to them and muttering apologies. He pried them off, embarrassed by all of this.

This short bout of happiness was destroyed by Doomsday. Dream, Technoblade and Philza once again made sure to set L’Manberg ablaze.

The second time Y/N’s fruits and labor got completely annihilated by their family but still they had some hopes this time. They still had Tommy on their side they could just finally build a home somewhere else and live in peace but Tommy had other ideas. He had it in his mind to get his discs back and he would do anything for it.

So while Y/N tried to ground themself with new hopes and ideas, holding onto the only constant of what was important to them, that being Tommy, Tommy ignored them. He was too busy with his own things and the worst part was that Y/N couldn’t even fault him for it.

They understood how much these discs meant to him and that this was something that had to come to an end but with this they lost another, and possibly their last, anchor point.

Yet you could still see them running around with a smile, tending to every one and trying to help out the best they could.

Then suddenly they were gone. They just disappeared one day. The few people who took note of that took some time to look around but there was no sign as to where they left. Y/N didn’t take their armor with them nor any weapons or food.

< Y/N succumbed to despair and fell of a high place>

When every ones communicators rung out with this message the SMP fell quiet.

Tommy couldn’t believe what he was reading. This didn’t make any sense. Y/N was fine! They would talk with them and everything looked fine! This must have been a cruel joke from Dream somehow, right? This couldn’t be real. Why would Dream do this? This didn’t seem to make sense.

Exactly there was no sense in Dream doing this.

While Tommy was battling with his thoughts Tubbo came running over to him. Tears streamed down his face.

“What happened? Why did this happen? Where are they?”

Tommy was visibly shaking “I- I have no idea. I don’t know. They looked fine. I’m- I’m not sure. Tubbo-“

Tubbo just slammed into him, giving him a proper hug, trying his best to help Tommy through his rising panic. He lost another sibling and by Ender that hurt.

Meanwhile in the snowy Tundra both Philza and Techno were staring at their communicators as well.

Philza was pale. So pale it almost rivaled the snow around him.

Techno had his brows furrowed. For anyone who didn’t know him well enough he looked at best displeased with this situation but Philza could see the small details that told a different story. Him sucking his breath in as he read the message, hiding his quivering lip in his cloak. He was heartbroken.

Sure the two weren’t on good speaking terms but Y/N was still his younger sibling. He still loved them.

Philza felt similar. He acknowledged that he screwed up and honored their wish to be left alone by him but he never imagined this could lead to their death. His knees buckled and he sank to the ground. Two of his children died, one directly by his hand and the other due to his inaction.

His eyes glossed over, the world became a blur and yet he continued rereading this message over and over. Y/N just lost their last life.

Philza could hear Techno walk closer to him and sat down on the ground as well.

“Y/N is-“ Philza begun but he didn’t know what he wanted to say. State the obvious to his eldest son?

“I have more fault in this than you, dad. Don’t feel guilty.” His voice was uncharacteristically weak. Wavering as he spoke. He wanted to cheer Philza up but it was a weak attempt.

“What have we done.”

Ghostbur was at first confused when he read the message. It was like he couldn’t connect the dots but it slowly dawned on him what this meant.

“Oh my.” His usual happy demeanor was suddenly gone.

He touched his face and as he put his hands back down he saw how they were smeared with blue.

“Y/N is dead?”

His usual ghost behavior seemed to break a bit. It was like through the warped version of Wilbur that was called Ghostbur for a moment the true version of him came through again. And he was hurt. Devastated.

“I think I need to find the others.” He mumbled to himself, making his way towards his family. All the while he held onto the blue wool of Friend like a lifeline. Combing through it nervously. Blue continuing to spill from his eyes.

#mcyt x reader #mcyt reader insert #mcyt fanfiction #mcyt x Y/N #dream smp reader insert #dream smp fanfiction #dream smp x reader #dream smp x Y/N #dsmp fanfiction #dsmp reader insert #dsmp x reader #sbi #sleepy bois inc #ramza writes #Anonymous #anon request

[marmaligne]

1/1 Hello! headcanon S/O makes good covers of songs and music videos(like those YouTube videos)? Swerve, as a lover of Earth(this is how it was mentioned in the comics) walks on the Internet and finds various covers performed by their human friend, watches and listens to them all and then runs to show Rewind.

[TF MTMTE] S/O Who Makes Song Covers

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* At first, Swerve was having a particularly slow day in the bar.

* He had just dealt with another one of Whirl’s shenanigans which accidentally blew up into a huge scuffle between Whirl and Skids, which got Chromedome and Rewind involved after Whirl stole their drinks in order to drench Skids in energon.

* The resident liaison, aka you, had watched from afar as everything turned to scrap between them and the whole area erupted into a bar fight.

* Swerve was embarrassed to say the least—the one person who ever seemed to pay attention to him on this damned ship, and they witnessed him unable to control his own patrons.

* He decided to close the bar early and retire off to his habsuite afterwards—better than sticking around.

* Turned on a datapad while sipping a cube of highgrade because Primus knows he deserves it.

* Began surfing through the internet and stumbled upon his favourite video streaming and uploading site: youtube.

* At first he scrolled through recommended cat videos, DIY’s and gaming streams, until he found something strangely out of place on the home page.

* He’d stumbled upon the music section and saw your face plastered to the front of a video image. Beneath it captioned “Born this way [Cover by s/o]” and featuring a plethora of other musicians and background singer mentions.

* He clicked on it, immediately entranced by the thought of you having a secret life or hobby, possibly whatever you did for a living before joining the LL crew.

* Absolutely astounded by the sound of your voice—he truly believed you were the incarnation of clarity based on the effortlessness of your rhythm and lack of lisps or vocal breaks.

* Swerve used to invest a bit in musicians back on Cybertron, he never owned a bar back then but understood that Cybertron’s versions of human ‘Harlems’ contained a lot of organized musical entertainment.

* When he opened a bar on the ship after finding the distillery with Skids, the first thing he thought of was music.

* Never found a decent singer cause everybody on the LL sucks.

* Immediately after finishing the first video, he clicked on your profile and continued scrolling, finding the oldest one on your account and beginning there.

* The post itself was 8 years old, which meant you had been in the industry of cover songs and albums for a decent time before you joined the LL on their adventures across space.

* He listened to every single one of them, with themes ranging from jazz and reggae, to rap and pop music from disney movies.

* Fell in love with your personality even more through your music; surely someone who sounds so beautiful has a beautiful heart as well!

* Immediately after finishing the last video, he ran to show the only other over-appreciator of media: Rewind.

* Rewind was astounded as well by your abilities, immediately began recording and downloading the recordings to a private database for future purposes.

* Both of them immediately called a bar meeting at like.... 3 am.

* Ultra Magnus (Minimus Ambus) arrived first and demanded to know why an emergency meeting was called.

* Rodimus and Chromedome arrived next because Roddy thought there’d be a fight, and Chromedome heard that Rewind sounded the emergency alert.

* As soon as everyone gathered, and Swerve stated it had something to do with their dear human liaison, everybody shut up.

* The room fell silent until Rewind began streaming the music to the bar speakers.

* Immediate awe from everyone in the room.

* This melodious voice belonged to s/o? Their little liaison? The one everybody used to ignore?

* Crushes and developing friendships all around the room and you hadn’t even arrived yet.

* The moment you stepped foot into the bar, everybody once again went quiet. When you asked why, an immediate response broke out.

* “You sing?!” and “I didn’t know your original function was a musician?” and “I didn’t know you had such a sweet voice!” rang out across the ship.

* You were evidently startled, and Swerve could tell—Rewind as well—and Swerve had to smash a clean glass against the counter to gain everyone’s attention again.

* “Let’s hear what our friend here has to say, shall we?”

* Everybody once again turned to face you.

* You explained that it was rather embarrassing they had stumbled upon an old ‘hobby’ of yours, but told them that you used to be a well-loved solo-singer back in the early days before the lost light.

* You never gained much fame beyond the internet media streams and sometimes group choreographs, but found a joy in music anyways, hoping to make your life long dream of finding fame and happiness out of singing come true.

* When you realized that such a thing was hard to achieve, especially in your national industry, you basically gave up on trying to achieve it, which is why the date of your last upload was about 2 years before you came to the crew.

* They listened intently, Swerve especially, and their expressions changed from astonishment to sadness.

* “So you.... don’t sing anymore?” came from a slightly downed Megatron—he thought there’d finally be someone to appreciate his poetry.

* You told him no, and the entire bar began to beg. About 100 bots shoved into a small bar, begging and pleading with you to continue your dream and make new music—some offering to teach you Cybertronian if it meant you could produce it in their language.

* The hesitancy in your voice was obvious, but you did eventually agree.

* The LL broke out into cheering, and Swerve reopened the bar for the night so that the others could party away. Ultra Magnus and some other tired bots slipped off down the halls to recharge again, but not before offering their congratulations (and bribes).

* You smiled slightly and exited the room, heading to the internal flight deck for some alone time.

* Swerve eventually made his way down after everyone had had their drinks, wanting to speak with you about the past.

* “Why’d ya’ give it up in the first place? Singing I mean.”

* “I don’t really know, I suppose because I realized that my dreams were unobtainable.”

* “Then maybe you’ll find that here on the Lost Light, there’s a lot more room for change.” he spoke to you.

* He didn’t know it that night, but you agreed with him. There was a lot that the world could offer, even more so now that you knew the universe was so vast.

* Maybe you went unappreciated on Earth, but you now have hundreds of bots ready to fight for a simple song from you.

* And who knows? Music videos would be 1000% cooler if you filmed them with giant robots out in space.

BONUS:

* Your voice alone singlehandedly turned Getaway back to the good side.

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✨ Hope you enjoyed ✨

#transformers x reader #transformers mtmte #transformers #idw mtmte #mtmte #mtmte swerve #mtmte rewind #transformers imagine #transformers headcanon

[gisellelx]

Like a Raisin in the Sun

Saint Tropez, France

June 28, 2021

Despite all the trouble it caused them, all of their family liked the sun. Even Jasper, whose ruthlessly military affinity for the dark had taken decades to overcome, lay stretched out on a chaise, his eyes closed, with Alice curled up on his chest. Emmett and Rosalie were curled up on another set of chaises, Rosalie’s head on Emmett’s shoulder, his fingers stroking absently through her hair.

The estate they’d rented had a private beach, of course, and two large pools, and the main house itself was large enough that they couldn’t always hear from one side to the other. Small mercies after the beginning of the pandemic, when the nine of them had somehow managed to cram into their five bedroom cottage in Toulouse. Here at the coast, they all had plenty of room to be apart.

That turned out not to matter much, however. Except for a handful of times of day, when one couple or another would peel off into one of the suites so expansive they were large apartments unto themselves, they were together. Four pairs of chaise lounges feet from the water’s edge. Nine players around the Monopoly board Rosalie and Jasper had designed which was much more punishing and required a buy-in of two thousand euro from anyone who wanted to play to fund the “bank.” Seven in the audience around the Steinway, as Edward and Renesmee worked through the entirety of the four-handed Dolly Suite.

The water made an arrhythmic whoosh as it met sand over and over. Sometimes two waves came almost together, huge and frothy; other times it was the more gentle swish of a small, barely there swell of ocean. It was strange, beautiful, percussion-only symphony, and Edward could almost hear a melody over it, feeling his fingers begin to itch with the desire to compose.

Only one set of chaises sat empty, and as he gazed toward the horizon, he could see them: bright flashes of light between the two-foot swells. They were much farther out than would be safe for humans, having allowed the undertow to take them probably an eighth of a mile out to sea, to a sandbar where the waves crashed prematurely before building up again to come ashore. Between the waves, they stood only waist deep in water, the sun glinting off their shoulders and backs, sending shimmering rainbows across the dark sapphire of the waves.

Carlisle dove through a wave, emerging with hair dripping down his back. He ran a hand through it as he laughed and took a few strokes through the water to be closer to Esme, whose definitely-designed-to-scandalize-the-adult-children string bikini left more of her skin exposed than her husband's long swim trunks did his. Once together, a few steps further out took them both into deeper ocean where they treaded water, having a conversation Edward could not overhear.

So intent was he watching, he barely felt he hand on his shoulder as the chaise beside him became occupied, its regular owner having returned from retrieving a new book from the house. His wife settled in next to him, immediately following his gaze out to the distant sandbar. Together they listened to Esme’s giggling shriek as Carlisle picked her up and threw her full on into a large wave, followed immediately by Carlisle’s deep laughter as Esme recovered her footing and immediately picked him up and did the same. They slapped each other’s shoulders playfully, wiping water out of their eyes and shaking it out of their hair.

“They’re having so much fun out there,” Bella commented quietly.

Edward nodded, saying nothing. After several minutes more, his wife poked him in the side, making him chuckle.

“Sometimes I’d like to have your gift,” his wife said. “Know what you’re thinking.”

He laughed. “That makes two of us.”

It was their private joke, how Bella was his one silent mind. From time to time, she let him in, but it was difficult and she didn’t do it often. So he had scaled the uneasy cliff of learning to ask her to voice her thoughts, and to be more forthcoming about his own.

“I forget so often how young they are,” he answered, his voice quiet. “They should just be at the beach, splashing each other.”

“And then coming in and having mojitos,” Bella added.

Edward stared back out over the water.

“He would be just out of his M-1 year,” he muttered.

Bella laughed. “Carlisle? He’d be a rising M-3 at a minimum. You think he somehow didn’t finish college at least a year early?”

He laughed. “True.”

Bella leaned into him. “And she’d be the rising star architect at the boutique firm. Nobody can believe she has so little experience because her designs are so good.”

Edward slipped an arm over his wife’s bare shoulders. “How did they meet?”

“Mmmm.” Bella’s gaze returned to the ocean. “She designed the art museum and he went to a gala. He’d be looking at the Cezanne. And she would come up from behind him and start telling him about it.”

“Yeah and then he would compliment the architecture of the building and make her blush.”

Bella laughed. “A coincidence, or does he know who she is?”

“He knows who she is. He’s hitting on her.”

They both smiled.

“Does it work?”

Edward nodded. “She lets him buy her a glass of wine from the cash bar. And it’s generic and not very good so he offers to take her to a real wine bar after the event. And they sneak out of it a little early. He orders something way too fancy for his budget and he’s just going to put it on his credit card but—”

“—Esme sees straight through him and gets the check.”

Laughing again, Edward nodded. They both fell silent for a moment, the only sounds the breeze, the birds, and the gentle whoosh of the Mediterranean.

“How long do they wait to do it,” his wife asks mischievously.

Edward threw his hands over his eyes. “Bella!” When he opened them, he saw his wife, one eyebrow cocked, and when they spoke, it was as one:

“Third date.”

They dissolved into laughter.

“His place or hers?” This was Edward.

“His. It’s a mess. He wasn’t expecting to invite her home. His sheets aren’t clean, either.” Carlisle, for his master command of anywhere between two and ten people’s laundry, somehow almost always managed to forget the sheets even with an inhuman memory. Bella’s invocation of one of her father in-law’s few marital imperfections made Edward laugh.

“She doesn’t care,” he added.

Bella shook her head. “She’s kinda charmed, really.”

“They move in together very quickly.”

“But they don’t get married for a long time.”

Edward nodded. “Until he’s in residency.”

His wife smiled. Then she mischievously leaned into his side, putting her lips at his ear and whispered, “They pull the goalie before the wedding.”

This made Edward laugh, but it rang true. In this world of events his mother would be thirty, and worried. They would both want to get started as soon as they were sure of their commitment, and neither of them had ever been much for suffering other people’s opinions about what might be proper. He listened, smiling, as his wife went on.

“They find out the day before and everyone is gushing at the reception about how sappy in love they look. It’s not until she starts showing that they tell everyone why they were so gooey that day.”

Edward smiled shyly, sitting up, dragging his toe in the white sand.

“Boy or girl?”

“Girl,” Bella answered immediately. When he cocked his head and frowned, she smirked and added, “There is no alternate universe in which you are not Rose’s little brother.”

At this, Edward guffawed. But it was true, he knew. When he saw them, in their minds, the shadow-dream family his parents both had, he was always the youngest. Sometimes there were three children, the oldest a boy whom each of them imagined differently—Carlisle imagining caramel hair and brown eyes, and Esme imagining a softened version of Charles, usually, but sometimes a boy with Carlisle’s hair, and blue eyes the exact hue of which she didn’t know and Carlisle didn’t remember. He would have been twenty years younger than Edward, chronologically, yet somehow in all their imaginations he was the oldest—the lost child, the child she ran for, the only person in their family who had ever died.

It weighed so heavily on them. All they had lost, all the things they had won in their stead. They had been so weary a week ago in the morning, when they’d met the rest of the family on the tarmac in Castres. A pandemic year was taking its toll on them both.

The couple who splashed in the waves seemed too young to have experienced all the loss they had. They looked so unburdened, chasing the waves, laughing at each other, catching the sun. As they watched, Esme put Carlisle on her shoulders and he fought until they both fell backward and went under.

Bella squeezed his hand. “Which ones do you think are happier? The imaginary ones or the real ones?”

Edward pressed his lips together. He could see them, in his mind’s eye: the beautiful couple settling comfortably into middle age, the doctor coaching his daughter’s basketball team, the architect leading the pine car derby for her son’s scout troop.

But he could see this couple, too. The joy on their faces as they hugged each of their six children. The way their skin had glowed in the light of absolutely unnecessary birthday candles, a “1”, a “2”, and a “0” on a cake only Renesmee could eat, and in all likelihood wouldn’t. The night before, when they’d watched In the Heights, his daughter fighting sleep as she leaned on her grandfather’s shoulder. How contented Carlisle had looked as he nudged her awake, knowing she considered herself far too old to be carried to bed.

They were old and young. Happy and sad. Yin and yang, like the ancient forces: equal parts the hard amidst the easy, the pain amidst the joy.

“The real ones,” he said, and was rewarded with another squeeze of his hand as his wife smiled.

“I think so, too,” she said.

In the distance, they both watched as Carlisle and Esme disappeared again under the waves.

#Fanfic #my fic #fragment #zero draft #carlisle cullen #esme cullen #edward cullen #carlesme #bella swan #this is as close as you get to me writing edbella enjoy

[slyttherins]

Meeting the Weasleys | Bill Weasley x Reader

Summary: The reconstitution of the Order of the Phoenix bring Bill back to England to help his family and others fight against Voldemort. Bill takes you along and you meet his family...who has no idea he has a girlfriend

Pairing: Bill Weasley x Reader

Word count: 1880

-

Muggle transport sucked. Especially planes. Fascinating transportation system, but why must they take so long to get to places? Portkeys were much faster.

Usually, when going to his family home, Bill would use a portkey to the Burrow, but as the Weasleys had temporarily moved to the new Order of the Phoenix's headquarters, there was no point going there. There was also no portkey available to Grimmauld Place since it was a secret house.

A plane was the only option.

''You didn't tell your family you wouldn't be coming alone?!''

Bill slung his satchel bag over his shoulder, thankful for the extension charm. ''Erm, no. I wasn't going to announce to them that I have a girlfriend through a letter, it doesn't sound really serious.''

For that, he wasn't wrong.

''We can't just show up together on the doorstep, Bill.''

Suddenly, you started re-evaluating your decision to come to England and think it was a bad idea. It's not like you and Bill were old friends. You had never met his family. What if his mom was angry for not warning her he was bringing his girlfriend? Would this put you on her bad side?

Bill shrugged, seeing no issues. ''Why not? Mom won't mind. She'll be so happy to see me that she'll forget to be mad for not telling her about you. It'll be fine, Y/N.''

As you expected, it didn't go like Bill had planned. He was a fool to think he could trick his mother like that. Molly was furious.

At first, she was confused. Then, she thought Bill had brought a friend to help with the Order - they could always use more wizards and witches on their side. But, when he introduced you as his girlfriend, her mood changed and she started scolding his oldest for not telling her something so important - even swatted his arm with the spoon she was holding. Ouch.

Bill too had been surprised by his mother's reaction, having not been talked to in that tone since his teenage years.

''William Arthur Weasley, how could you do that? You disappear in Egypt for six years and come back with a surprise girlfriend and expect me to not get mad and act as if it's nothing important? How long have you been hiding this from us? I'm your mother, how could you hide this from me?'' her voice boomed through Grimmauld Place. It was like getting a real-life howler. Pretty scary.

Once Mrs. Weasley was finished, she turned to you, her facial expression completely changed, and smiled warmly. ''Sorry about that, dear. Some people have no manners and assumes they can't be scolded after leaving the nest.'' She narrowed her eyes at Bill. ''I'm Molly, Bill's mother...but I'm sure you've caught that already. What's your name?''

''Y/N,'' you introduced. ''I'm sorry for coming unnoticed. I kept telling Bill it wasn't a great idea.''

''Don't feel bad, it's all forgiven.'' The plump woman smiled warmly at you. ''Would you like some biscuits? I just took a batch out of the oven.''

.

After eating some biscuits in the kitchen and chatting a bit with Mrs. Weasley - Bill was trying to be forgiven -, you and Bill took your luggages upstairs and went to put everything away. There weren't a lot of rooms left - a lot of members of the Order had taken residency at Grimmauld Place -, but Mrs. Weasley had kept one for Bill. Ron was supposed to share with him, but now that you were there, Ron was going to have to move rooms. Sorry, Ron.

''I didn't think she would be that angry. If I has known, I-''

''Angry? She was furious, William!'' you interrupted as you entered the bedroom, finding it a complete mess. There was a trunk opened in the corner, quidditch magazines and wrappers on the nightstand, and dirty clothes everywhere. Bill's little brother was a messy person.

With a few whisks of his wand, Bill gathered Ron's stuff and put everything in his trunk - dirty or not - to make room for yours. In the end, the trunk struggled to fit everything, but with a little bit of magic, everything was possible. It might explode when Ron will open it, but it wouldn't be your problem then.

''I guess I overestimated myself.''

You started with your clothes, folding them neatly in the chest drawers and hung the jackets in the small wardrobe. There was an old smell floating in the room, but it was inevitable in a house this old.

While you did that, Bill reached for the toiletries items, frowning confusedly when he saw how many bottles of who-knows-what you had brought. What were they all for? Did you really need all of those?

''I...I thought she was going to hate] me because of that,'' you admitted, genuinely scared you were going to be one of those girlfriends that's hated by her future in-laws. All because Bill omitted to tell his mother about you.

Bill huffed a short laugh, but seeing how you were genuinely worried of so, he turned into a serious face and he came up to you, wrapping his arms around you from behind. ''That's very unlikely,'' he said, turning you around in his hold and tilting your chin up. ''My mom has no hatred in her body - except for the ones who harm her children. I promise she doesn't hate you.'' Bill kissed your temple, but his speech didn't convince you completely.

''Well, she was yelling. To me, yelling is not something positive.''

''At me. She was yelling at me,'' he corrected. ''But then, she offered you biscuits, didn't she?''

''She did.''

Food was how Molly showed affection and care. She loved to cook all sorts of meals and desserts to feed the ones she loved. If you were particularly kind with her, she might cook your favorite dish at supper.

''Let's finish unpacking so I can introduce you to the rest of the family.''

You nodded and slipped out of your boyfriend's hold. Hopefully it'll go better, this time.

.

When you left the bedroom, you ran into two boys of the same height and physique, which you recognized as the infamous twins. Bill had told you about all members of his family on the plane journey, but telling apart who was who was another story though.

They both hugged their brother - who was almost as tall as them -, having not seen each other in a while and, when Bill introduced you, they looked shocked.

''Girlfriend?'' Fred repeated, sounding surprised. He glanced at you mischievously. ''Have you slipped him a love potion?''

It was all jokes, but you didn't know their humor so you took him seriously.

''Excuse me?'' You were offended that they could think you did something like that. Slipping someone a love potion was vile and immoral. Plus, love potions only created infatuation, not love.

Beside you, Bill rolled his eyes and laughed lightly, which told you they were only joking. ''Is it that difficult to believe that I got a girlfriend? Last time I heard, you all agreed I was the coolest brother of the lot.''

''The coolest, perhaps, but not the most skilled in the flirting departement,'' Fred teased. ''I think I deserve that title.''

''It's just, our brother never brought a girl home before,'' George explained to you, feeling sorry for the misunderstanding. ''How did mom take it? Her oldest son taking a girl home, she must've been emotional.''

''She was thrilled-''

Thrilled wasn't the word you would've employed.

''He's lying. She hit him with a spoon,'' you corrected.

Bill nudged you. ''Y/N! You're supposed to be on my side.''

You shrugged.

''A spoon?'' Fred and George chorused. ''I thought it was only us who got the spoon.''

.

Next was Ginny and Ron, which you met at the dinner table.

Although she was the youngest, Ginny was the closest to Bill. There was a special bond between the two that made you smile fondly.

Farther into the kitchen, another ginger haired boy stood on his mother's heels, trying to steal something to eat. Upon hearing Bill's voice, he turned and joined his sister, but didn't fail to give you a confused look, having never seen you before. If he had, he would've remembered.

''Who are you?'' He took a bite of the bread he stole and Ginny elbowed him for being rude.

In response to Ron's question, Bill slid an arm behind you, grin on his lips and raised his eyebrows, waiting for his siblings to catch on. Since knowing him, you had learned that the eldest Weasley didn't like to make a big deal out of any news - counting having a girlfriend.

It didn't take long for a wide smile to spread on Ginny's face. ''Oh my Godrick! I was not expecting this when you said you were coming home. I'm so happy for you,'' she told Bill and then turned to you and introduced herself - although you already knew her name - and kindly asked for yours. ''Finally, I will no longer be the only girl among those boys. Why have you kept her a secret?''

''I did not-''

Ginny gave her brother a look. ''You didn't tell us. It's the same thing.''

''Maybe he didn't want you to steal her from him,'' Ron joked, making fun of his sister's excitement.

Ginny glared at him, about to say something back, but before she could, Molly called out that dinner was ready. A loud crack echoed and Fred and George aparated in the kitchen, sneaking on Molly and making her yelp.

''Just because you're allowed to do that doesn't mean you-''

''Do you need help, Mrs. Weasley?'' you offered.

Although Bill had promised his mother didn't hate you, being helpful would surely get you on her good side.

Molly smiled at you, thankful for the help. ''That would be very appreciated, dear. You take the soup and bread to the table. Don't forget to place a cloth underneath the stockpot or else it'll burn the wood of the table.''

You nodded and got to business.

While you were helping Molly, two men arrived in the kitchen. One of them had dark curly hair and the other had a walking stick. They introduced themself as Sirius Black and Remus Lupin. You had heard of the former in the newspaper, but didn't dare ask questions. You simply smiled at him politely.

''Where are the others?'' you asked Bill when you sat down beside him, looking at the kitchen's entrance thinking two more Weasleys would come in. ''I thought you had five brothers.''

''Charlie is in Romania working with dragons and Percy,'' Ginny paused, glancing at their mom in the kitchen, taking something out of the oven. ''He doesn't live with us anymore.''

Ginny didn't need to say more for you to sense that Percy was a sensitive subject for the family. Especially to Molly. You felt like there was more to it than him moving out, but didn't dare ask as it wasn't your businesses.

Thankfully, the subject was dropped fast enough and Ron and Fred started arguing about who would get the ladle first, only for Ginny to roll her eyes and take it before them. Once she was done, she gave it to you to purposely annoy her brothers, which got a complaint from Ron.

''It was my turn!''

#bill weasley #bill weasley x reader #Harry Potter #harry potter prompt #prompt #bill weasley prompt

[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.

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

[xjoonchildx]

guarded | jhs x reader | chapter one: fan mail

summary: you’ve tried to separate yourself from your infamous crime family, but a new case has your carefully-constructed world crashing down around you.  now you have to figure out how to heal old wounds and handle the new man who enters your orbit.

pairing: hoseok x reader

genre: mafia AU, E2L, slow burn, tsundere, eventual smut

rating: 18+

word count: 2.8K

Chapter 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | EPILOGUE

***************************

You stare at the words for a moment before folding the paper in half and slipping it back into the envelope you pulled it from.  

Honestly?  

It’s not the first time you’ve gotten a threat. It happens from time to time in this line of work.

But this note plucks a chord of anxiety inside of you. Must be the eleven missed calls you suspect go hand-in-hand with your little love letter. Your phone hasn’t stopped buzzing for a half-hour now.

“Are you okay?”

Hyejin’s voice filters through your thoughts. She’s taken stock of the strange look that crosses your face in the split-second before you school your features back into a mask of calm.

She’s observant like that.

“Oh yeah, it’s nothing,” you say, shaking your head.  “Just some fan mail.”  

Your phone buzzes against the papers on your desk -- again -- and Hyejin raises an eyebrow.

Make that twelve.

“Tell you what,” she says, standing to stretch her legs. “I’m ready to go blind from reading these files and I could use an Americano.  You want one?”

“Actually yes,” you exhale.  “That’s exactly what I need. You’re a lifesaver.”

She gives you one last are you sure you don’t need to tell me anything? look before opening the door to your office.  You reassure her with a soft smile but the second the door to your office closes, you blow out one long, heavy breath and reach for your phone.

you: what the hell? [ 3:15 PM ]

namjoon: this can’t wait [ 3:15 PM ]

you: clearly [ 3:16 PM ]

namjoon: come in ASAP [ 3:16 PM ]

You groan.

Namjoon knows you avoid that place at all costs.

It’s not a good look for you to be seen there -- and so as a rule -- you’re not.  Your brother is usually understanding about your stance on the matter. But it’s not like him to push so there’s probably a damned good reason why he’s summoning you to his office like some wayward employee.

You glance back at the stack of files on your desk, riddled with notes and highlights.  Even after a morning spent tag-teaming with Hyejin, there’s still a shitload of work to be done. But then you look back at that envelope sitting on your desk and pick up your phone again.

you: give me thirty minutes [ 3:19 PM ]

namjoon: okay [ 3:19 PM ]

Paperwork is going to have to wait.

*****************************

You’re not a moron.  

You know what people say about your family, what they say about you.

You know what they whisper when you show up to charity galas and fundraising dinners. You know what they murmur the second their false smiles fall and you turn your back. They say that the money that paid for your prep schools and top-notch legal education is blood money; paid for by one of Seoul’s oldest and most powerful crime networks.  They say that you took a job prosecuting crime to assuage for your family’s sins.

They’re not wrong.

Your father -- your cruel, unsophisticated father -- shelled out top dollar to put you in fancy schools and fancy clothes and fancy riding lessons.  He threw elaborate birthday parties where he showered you with extravagant gifts in front of guests who were only there to celebrate because they feared turning down the invitation.

So others saw your material good fortune and mistook you for a pampered mafia princess. None of them had to come home every day to the stench of death and destruction. None of them had to endure the gossip and the looks and the cold shoulders.

That was a burden you shared with only one other person.

You and Namjoon huddled together during your lavish and turbulent childhood, leaning on one another for strength because no one else understood. He was the only safe harbor you had in the storm you both lived every day.

And then you left.

You walked away from your father and the Gajog and crossed the country to study law.  Far from the vicious gossip and prying eyes and violent drama that always awaited you in Seoul.  You walked away and decided that you weren’t going to live that life anymore.  

But you also walked away from Namjoon.

Now it’s a cold comfort, seeing your brother seated so naturally at the throne of power your father vacated when he died.  The old-school brute-force organization your father ran for decades is a thing of the past.  In its place, a well-oiled, highly-organized machine -- making far more money and far fewer mistakes.  

Namjoon single-handedly pulled the crime syndicate into a new era, dusted it off and dressed it up.  He legitimized parts of the business, took up residence in one of the city’s most expensive buildings, and basically dared law enforcement to come get him.

They still haven’t.

And there isn’t a day that Namjoon doesn’t cross your mind.  

There isn’t a day that you don’t pray that the menace that existed inside your father never takes root inside of your brother.  You pray that he can shoulder the burden of his responsibilities without rotting from the inside out.  

If anyone can, you tell yourself, it’s him.

**********************

Namjoon cuts an imposing figure behind his grandiose wooden desk.

He’s seated when his assistant first opens the door to his secure private office, but as soon as you follow her inside he makes to stand.

He looks so tall now, you think -- as though it’s been years since you’ve seen him.  

In reality, it’s only been a few months since your last brief encounter, but it’s still hard sometimes to recognize the handsome, polished man in front of you as the kid you grew up with. You’re hit with a pang of regret that it’s been so long since you’ve seen one another face-to-face.

Two men stand guard on either side of Namjoon’s desk, which doesn’t surprise you. Your brother is always surrounded by guards these days.  

The only one you recognize is Min Yoongi, who gives a slight bow in your direction as you cross the broad expanse of the office.  You’re certain you’ve never seen the second man, who stands eerily still on your brother’s other side.  You can feel the stranger’s stare from a distance and avert your eyes.

You bow to Namjoon and take a seat in the plush chair facing his desk.  A fond look passes over his features but when he opens his mouth to speak his tone is businesslike, serious.

“I know you don’t like coming in here,” he begins carefully, “and so I have to apologize for asking you to make an exception.  I hope you understand this can’t be helped.”

“Yes, of course,” you say softly. “Sorry it took me a while.  I’m buried with a new case.”

Namjoon nods.

“That case is the reason why we’ve run into a bit of trouble in the past few days,” he admits. “Some of our friends across town are pretty upset about it.  Apparently very agitated and hoping to leverage the fact that you’ve been assigned to this case to their advantage.”

“I see,” you murmur.

You knew the men you’d been assigned to build a weapons trafficking case against were part of a rival organization -- but on paper they were low-level foot soldiers, considered expendable in a business like theirs.  Why the Ssijog were so worried about losing a couple of nobodies from their ranks was a bit puzzling.

“I guess that explains this,” you say, reaching into your bag for the letter delivered to your office.  

You hand it to Namjoon and he reads the words with a tight expression before turning it over to the man you don’t recognize.  It’s a relief when the stranger’s focus moves away from you and onto that paper. You take the opportunity to get a closer look at him.

The first word that comes to mind is sharp.

Everything about the man is sharp -- from his meticulously tailored suit to his severe jawline to the angles of his body.  Intense dark eyes set in honey gold skin and black hair carefully styled off of his face. You’re caught staring when his eyes snap up from the paper and back to you.

You clear your throat, gaze darting back to your brother.

“They want you to make this go away.”

You sigh.

“I can’t do that. I don’t have that kind of authority. And besides, it would attract all the wrong kinds of attention to me and -- “ you pause, choose your next words carefully, “ -- to my ties to this organization.”

Namjoon concedes your point with a slow bob of his head.

“Right.  So we have a problem,” he admits.  “Because the message we’re getting is that they’re willing to do whatever it takes to get what they want.  And it’s been made quite clear to me that hurting you is not off the table.”

You take in a deep breath.

“This is Jung Hoseok,” Namjoon says after a short silence, motioning to the stranger at his side. You straighten when the man acknowledges you with a barely-there bow.  

“I’ve assigned him to your detail.”

“Detail,” you repeat slowly.  “Like a bodyguard.”

“Exactly like that.”

“Namjoon, I -- “ you look away from the man to turn your attention back to your brother,  “-- I can’t have one of your guys following me around.  People are going to talk.”

“Amsaja,” he sighs, “They talk anyway.”

You bristle at his use of your childhood nickname.  

You know it’s meant as an endearment but it still feels infantilizing in front of his men -- one of whom hasn’t seen you in years, one of whom knows nothing about you at all.  You’re a grown woman, a successful prosecutor, and more than just Kim Namjoon’s little sister.

“Joon -- “

There is annoyance behind the way you fire off his name and one of your brother’s eyebrows lifts in warning.  A silent reminder that in this room, in this building, in this realm, he is the absolute authority.  You swallow back the argument on the tip of your tongue.

“Namjoon,” you start again, this time with a restrained calm.  “Please. Let’s have this conversation in private.”

He drums his fingers across the surface of his wooden desk before nodding his agreement and raising a hand to motion his guards out the door.  You wait until both men are gone and the heavy door to Namjoon’s office clicks shut to speak again.

“You’re putting me in a terrible position here,” you exhale. “I’ve worked so hard to -- distance myself.  I can’t walk around with a reminder of my family history at my heels.”

Your brother stands from his seat and walks to an ornate sideboard, pours liquor from a heavy crystal decanter into a highball glass.  He takes a slow drink before speaking.

“You are worried about your image; I’m worried about your safety.  Those two concerns are not equal. Not to me.”

Your face heats at the kernel of truth in your brother’s assessment.  

Certainly, it’s about how it looks, but it’s so much more than that. It’s about the life you’ve worked so hard to build away from the drama surrounding your family name.  It’s about a future that depends on the burial of your past.

Namjoon leans against his heavy wooden desk, arms crossed.

“You should know me by now,” he continues.  “If I thought these were empty words, I wouldn’t have bothered you with them.”

“I know that,” you admit quietly.  Doesn’t make the pill any easier to swallow, though.

“Hoseok is under orders to stay with you at all times. Obviously, he won’t be physically at your side while you’re working, but he will be close by.  And he will be staying at your apartment for the time being.”

You blink.  “In my apartment?”

A flash of irritation crosses your brother’s face. “Yes, in your apartment.  I’m privy to information you don’t have.”  He takes a long drink from the highball glass.  “It’s necessary until we have this situation under control.”

“I don’t know this man,” you argue, and that eyebrow lifts again at the rising heat in your tone. “Can’t you give me Yoongi or Seokjin or someone else?”

“No.”

“Thanks for considering that, Joon.”

You don’t even bother to hide your displeasure now, climbing out of the plush chair and walking over to the massive window that makes up the back wall of your brother’s office. You look down at the street. From this height, the cars below look like toys and the people look like ants.  

Namjoon joins you in front of the window, drink in hand.

“I don’t want to fight with you, I want to protect you. Jung Hoseok has worked for me three years now and he spent many more years serving in the military.  He is the man I want for this assignment and I need you to trust me on that, too.”

You say nothing, staring out the window and feeling suddenly exhausted.  You hate everything about today -- the letter, the case, this arrangement you now have to endure.  You hate that this is the first real conversation you’ve had with your brother in months and you’re locking horns.  

“Okay,” you whisper after a while, reluctant to let the tension escalate. Your brother has asked so little of you since you severed ties with the Gajog -- and effectively, with him.  You swallow past the taste of guilt when you turn to look him in the eye.

“I’ll play ball, Jaegyueo.”

Your brother seems to soften when you use his childhood nickname in return, shoulders relaxing as he takes another sip from the highball and looks out over the city he basically runs.  

“Thank you, Amsaja.”

*************************

Hoseok

“Has she seen this?”

Hoseok stares down at the glossy photograph in his hands.  

There’s little to be gleaned from the details in the picture.  There are no shadows, no reflections, no personal items to give away any clues as to who took it or when.

You are asleep, one bare shoulder peeking out from underneath your plush bedding -- your hair spilling out onto your pillow. You appear blissfully unaware of the danger standing just a few feet away.

“Hell no,” Namjoon exhales.  “And I would like to keep it that way. She’d probably never sleep again if she saw that shit.”

Hoseok hands the photograph back.

“I need the two of you to figure out who got into her apartment.  And then I need you to bring him here.”

Namjoon doesn’t finish that train of thought -- he doesn’t have to.  Hoseok and Yoongi hear clearly everything he hasn’t said.  

“We’ll find him,” Yoongi vows, and Hoseok nods his agreement.  “It’s gonna be handled.”

Namjoon scrubs a hand down his jaw, eyes still glued to the picture on his desk.

He’s an uncharacteristically even-tempered boss, particularly in this line of work.  Seeing him this unnerved is unnerving to Hoseok, who’s seen him handle countless shitty situations with an unnatural calm.

“She’s my sister,” Namjoon says quietly.  “I don’t expect any of you to understand our dynamic, but I need you to know that her safety is my top priority.”

“Understood,” Hoseok murmurs and in that moment, the heavy door to the office opens wide. Namjoon shoves the photograph into his desk drawer.  

Hoseok studies you as you trail Namjoon’s assistant across the length of this massive office.

The first word that comes to mind is small.

You’re much smaller than Hoseok imagined you’d be, basing that assumption almost entirely on Namjoon’s tall and solid frame.  Physically, you are nearly the opposite of your brother, delicate features set in smooth skin, any appearance of height owed directly to the high-heeled shoes you’ve carefully matched to your business suit.  

Hoseok notes that you have the same stubborn set to your jaw, though -- a defense mechanism that slips momentarily when you lock eyes with your brother.  He catches the brief flash of sadness in your face before you manage it away.

In the years he’s been with the Gajog, he’s only heard your name a handful of times --  almost always followed by hushed exchanges and pained expressions.  Never once has anyone breathed your name in front of Namjoon, though.  That appears to be an invisible line everyone understands not to cross.

But now you’re here, in the flesh. One piece of the puzzle revealed.

Hoseok watches your exchange with Namjoon with curiosity. It’s not the easy back-and-forth one would expect to see between a pair of siblings -- but there is an underlying affection between the two of you. A quiet respect.

Amsaja, Namjoon had called you.  Lioness.

Hoseok doesn’t see a lioness when he looks at you, though.  

He sees a rich girl desperate to prove how much better she is than her own flesh and blood.  He sees a social climber so eager to make a name for herself in this city that she walked away from her own brother to make it happen.  

This is the moment that Hoseok decides that you’re not the kind of person he could ever respect.

Because unlike you, he would never put ambition above loyalty.

Never.

**********************

tag list:

@yoongbug @brilliantlybasicb @lemonjoonah @illnevertrustmyselfagain​@sunkissed75 @taetaewonderland @shadowhale​

#hoseok smut #hoseok x reader #bts mafia #hoseok mafia au #bts tsundere #btscreatorscorner #btswriterscollective #ksmutclub #ficswithluv

[cesabutterflywrites]

The Duke of the Bay: Part 8

[Spotify Playlist] [Youtube Playlist]

First Part, Ao3 Link, Next Part (Coming Soon)

Story Warnings: Guns, threats, alcohol, violence homosexual slang used pejoratively and positively, internalized homophobia, ask me to add any if need be

Chapter Warnings:   This is a heavy chapter. Violence is only implied, but the implications have a heavy impact. Read with caution.

Chapter Word Count:    3839

Summary: Patton O’Hearty was a great detective. Most people didn’t take him for one at first glance, especially when he dressed casual. He was abnormally chipper; he thought everything was the cat’s pajamas. He had a smile for everyone he met. He was always tipping his hat at the dames and gents when he walked the streets of the Bay Area.

The only person he could never catch was the leader of the planted mob in Emeryville, nicknamed The Duke. The Duke was good at hiding his dealings and joints well, and he rarely had a snitch in his ranks. The few who tried, well, somehow they disappeared before they could give the police any substantial information. He was well hidden, but popular among the residents of the town. People talked boldly of his rambunctious parties, never revealing the locations though. He was hard to catch, to say the least.

So what happens, when instead, the detective is the one that’s caught?

-

The dawn came as it always did- a soft gray and orange haze streaking in with the marine layer over the water of the San Francisco Bay. Roman de Rossi had a lovely view of it from his family mansion on San Pablo Avenue. A mansion that felt too big lately, with too high of a price to keep. 

 Roman rolled over to get out of bed when he bumped into something hard and stiff. His heart skipped a beat when he heard his wife cry out. 

“Jeeze, Ro, trying to be the first at the breakfast table again?” Rosalie’s voice was gruff. She rubbed the spot on her back where Roman had bumped. “I already got one slugger goin’ for my kidneys.” 

Roman rolled his eyes, though he was relieved he hadn’t hurt Rosalie. “Rose, why aren’t you in your bed?” 

 “Because I needed the warmth and comfort of my husband.” she mumbled sarcastically into her pillow, already on her way back to sleep. 

 All exhausted bitterness left him at the sound of her snores. At the beginning of their marriage it had been incredibly overbearing for him-to the point they shared separate beds- but with the rising threat of the gangs, he never knew when he’d see the last of his wife. After yesterday, there wasn’t even a certainty that he’d make it to see the birth of his twins. 

 Carefully, with a hesitation that seemed to become all-too-familiar, he rested his hand on Rosalie’s belly that was under his blanket. Rosalie hummed in response, but kept her eyes closed still. Roman tried to feel for any movement from the twins, but they didn’t. He tried to think that it was because they were also sleeping. It had nothing to do with the fact that every time he tried to feel for their movement he would get nothing. He ignored the tightness in his throat, he disregarded the burning tears, and prayed to God silently that he would make it through this trying time long enough to at least hold his children once. 

 The thought was an unwelcome intrusion since that fateful telegram from the Duke’s right hand man two months before. Shoving the bitter memory of that message aside, he got himself ready in the dark with a swiftness, already wanting the day to be done. He couldn’t tell whether his need to stay home was due to his anxieties of being a father, his weariness of  having more caseloads of rising crime, or his paranoia about criminal eyes spying on him. He watched his large wife turn about in her sleep as he dressed; she was unable to find a comfortable position. He couldn't blame her. Something he wished he’d have considered before the pregnancy was getting a large family bed so they could share it. Even if she snored like a boozed up bear. 

 A lock of her thick black hair fell out of it’s wrap and was caught in the light from the hallway behind him. Her lips were pushed out in a half pout, half pucker. The gown she was wearing was a large blue cotton dress with flowing sleeves. Her eyes were closed, not restful, but crinkled under her worried brows. Her face had gotten wider in her pregnancy. Her cheeks were flushed with red with elevated temperature from the warm room. She moved her hand to hold under her head as she laid on her side, facing Roman and the door. 

 She was beautiful, and Roman took this moment to appreciate her beauty, for he didn't know if this was the last time he would see her. He’d never know from now on. 

 "I can feel ya starin', darling husband," her teasing tone was muffled by the pillow and her sleepiness. "Get to work so I can sleep." 

 He quietly leaned over her, just as he always did, and kissed her. 

 He’d never know that his tired wife had noticed the despair in the extra moments their lips were met. 

 “Send for someone right away if anything happens, alright dear?” he asked while brushing a stray curl aside. 

 “Sure thing honey…”

 His walk to work was dim in the early morning as the fog was thick as wool. The only light guiding his way was a soft orange desperately clinging to the lampposts. The fog was dense with the promise of the coming autumn season for next month. It wasn’t smart of him to have left so early. There was no one on the street. No vagrants, no Jezebels, and no wayward orphans. Just him, the mist, and the sound of his shoes on moist stones. Still, just because he couldn't see anyone, it didn't mean that he didn't feel like he was being watched with eyes capable of seeing through all sorts of darkness. 

 It was soon enough in his hurry that he made it to the precinct. He ran his hand through his somewhat damp hair as he took his hat off at the entrance. He was early, earlier than normal, and the shift-changing deputies milling about by the entrance desk stood up straighter when they saw him. 

 “Hey, Cap’n. How’s the missus? Ready to burst just yet?” the old man at the desk asked. His name was Reggie, and if you called him a secretary you’d get a busted lip. He was the nicest-and oldest- member of the force. 

 “Oh, she’s fine. Doc says it’s gonna be any day now ‘til they’re here. I think she’s more excited than I am for it to be over. She’s been complaining about her feet being so swollen she can barely stand,” Roman laughed. The use of the word ‘complain’ was only polite. Rosalie’s ‘complaints’ about her pregnancy would make sailors blush. 

 Reggie guffawed. “Yeah, I remember when Ethel had her first. She was cursing so bad near the end you’d think she was a drunken sailor in a brig!” 

 “Women have a way with words, don’t they Reg?” Roman commented as he made his way around the desk. He wasn’t really waiting for an answer as he kept walking away. 

 Reggie must have been in a nice mood, since he didn’t point out the Captain’s distracted behavior as he walked off. Roman appreciated that. He was already in deep enough trouble with his reputation as a younger force captain. 

 Roman was grateful that he was going to be able to take some leave soon. He didn’t like being away from his pregnant wife all day. Especially now, with everything so changed. He sat down in his rolling chair with the force of a thousand anvils. He opened the folder on his desk, knowing there’d be no change in it since the last time he filled it a month ago with the ‘tip’ Logan and Patton got.

 Case Number: 103625 - Open - “The Duke” 

 He sighed to himself as a heavy headache formed behind his eyes. It was a new day, which meant new trouble, which meant he seriously needed some coffee. He reached for his announcer when- 

 “Captain, there’s a visitor here for ya.” A fresh faced rookie announced while walking into the office. His voice was a bit too anxious-to-please for the captain’s liking in the morning . 

 Roman’s voice imitated distant thunder - a warning, a looming threat - “Haven’t you heard of knocking, boy?” 

 The young man was smart enough to appear embarrassed. “I apologize, sir.” He stood at attention as he had been trained to do. His badge gleamed in the light of the office as his chest puffed out.

 Roman felt guilty for snapping at him. He didn’t want to be an angry, bitter leader, like his predecessor. Or like his father had been. Those old men were so hardened by stress that they felt no regard for those beneath them. He refused to be that way, no matter what.  So he forced his body to relax as he imagined the darkness in his heart being swept under the new rug of his office. 

 “I understand. I was a rookie like you once upon a time. What seems to be the trouble?” Roman forced a smile on his face, as though it was drying cement to keep in place.

 “You’ve got a guy saying he’s here for a meeting, a...Mr. Doris? Fella has a scar right here on his face." The officer took his finger and motioned on his face as an indicator of his description. Obviously the young man’s mind was wandering to stories about the nastiest criminals known to man. 

 Roman nodded, cleared his throat, then told him, "Bring him in." 

 The young officer disappeared, and in one breath the enemy had walked through the office door as if he owned the place. Roman sighed in defeat. It wasn’t ‘as if’ he owned the place, it was that he practically did. Especially now that the detectives weren’t ever going to ‘catch’ the bad guys like they should have ages ago.

 “What brings you in so early, Mr. Doris?” Roman asked. He stood up, smoothed down his tie, and held his hand out to shake his visitor’s gloved hand.  

 The visitor smirked. “I like the new you, Roman. Straight to the punch without any frivolous small talk. Such a change from the last time we had spoken.” 

 The memory sat between them. A smoked out room, sweaty foreheads, two guns between two young men, a kiss- a stalemate. 

 Roman gulped down the anxious sensation and forced himself to speak. “Well, I haven’t had any coffee yet, so I’m not feeling patient enough for chit chat.” 

 Mr. Doris’ laughter sent chills down Roman’s spine. His voice was dry and raspy, like a lizard. “I see. Well, the good news is that your two lead detectives are good at their jobs.” He slammed his fist down onto the desk as his eyes peered into Roman’s. “The bad news is, they’re so good at their job, even you don’t control them anymore.” 

 “That’s not true!” Roman exploded. The force of his anger pushed him out of his seat so he was practically nose to nose with his guest. “I just suspended Logan Smith for admitting he’s working with one of your men! Detective O’Hearty is too personable to be focused on investigating your precious boss! Hell, he’s probably going to be too busy sidetracked into chasing wild geese from that stunt Logan pulled. And another thing-” 

 “That’s enough, Roman.” Mr. Doris covered Roman’s mouth with one of his gloved hands. “You’ve told me all I needed to know.” 

 It’s too easy to play you, dear Roman, Doris thought to himself. I knew something was up with Virgil Vitale. He couldn’t keep the grin off of his face at the thought of finally teaching the little punk a lesson. 

 Roman shook the hand off of his mouth. His breath was shaky. “What do you mean?” 

 “Oh, I won’t tell you, dear,” Mr. Doris hummed. He walked to the doorway without any explanation. It was time to take business into his own hands after all. No more time to waste. “I’ve gotta run. Say hi to the missus for me.” He looked over his shoulder to make sure the unspoken threat hit its target. 

 Roman was left standing in that position. His hands wouldn’t stop shaking. His hair laid out of control around his face, his heart pounding, and the sense of impending doom- as if he just sentenced an innocent man to death. 

 ----------

 Alice woke up to the sound of the radio downstairs playing some German concerto. It was a slow morning for once. She hummed to herself, pleased that she was able to wake up slowly to beautiful music as opposed to the sound of harsh knocking at her door. Yet as she turned over in bed her peace was interrupted by the brightness of the sun shining through the window. She groaned at the disruption to her dreamy haze. 

 Alice hefted herself out of the large bed and made herself to the large vanity-much nicer than the one at her apartment- and started working on her hair. Once she was done making sure she looked presentable she made her way down the grand staircase to meet Logan wherever he was at. Which, knowing how large the house was, meant that it could be a proper while before she would find him. 

 The smell of sizzled meat wafted through the large hallways. Instead of looking for Logan, she decided to make her way towards the dining room from the night before. It’s rude to check in and hover over a cook’s shoulder, she reckoned. No matter how curious it was to her that Logan didn’t have any help at all. 

 The moment she sat down she heard the door from the kitchen open.  Logan was pushing a dining cart forward on his own. He had a white rag placed over his shoulder and a stained white apron tied around his waist. He was whistling an unfamiliar tune to himself as he set out the platters in front of Alice. She couldn’t help but laugh. She was enjoying this bright version of the detective. 

 “What’s the occasion, detective?” Alice asked once he sat down with her. 

 Logan struggled to hide a sheepish grin, “It’s just been a long while since I’ve had any sort of company over. I don’t get to go out much with my line of work.” 

 “Aw, didn’t wanna bring any wayward souls home for Christmas?” she teased. 

 Logan rolled his eyes at her. It was good that he was loosening up around her humor. Alice wondered if she could get away with cursing around him yet, but decided not to push her luck, given that they had a long day ahead of them. 

 “It’s gotta be more than me, come on.” Alice waggled her eyebrows at him. “What’s with the shift in the wind?” 

 Logan ignored her prompts. Instead, he lowered his head. Alice rushed to set her fork down so she could follow suit. 

 “Father God, I ask that you bless this food and those who consume it. We thank you for providing for us. We ask for you to sustain our spirits as well as our bodies. I ask that you help us in all of our endeavors today, and I thank you for bringing me someone to share this meal with. Thank you for providing me such youthful company. Amen.” 

 “Amen.” Alice echoed. She tried to keep her questions to herself. Logan’s prayer wasn’t one she had ever heard before. 

 Alice lifted the cover to reveal her breakfast. There was sausage, eggs, and toast with powdered sugar. It smelled amazing. 

 “Thank you, Logan, this looks delicious.” She immediately went for the eggs. It had been so long since she’d had eggs for breakfast. Not since she left her farm home nearly two years ago. 

 They sat at the table with only the sounds of the radio in the living room occasionally drifting in through the doors. Alice was enjoying her meal so much, she jumped when she heard the fancy telephone in the hallway ringing. 

 “Excuse me, Alice.” Logan muttered. He wiped his hands on his apron and swiftly walked on his long legs to the hallway. 

 It was irritating, being called in the morning. Especially when his meal was being interrupted. He lifted the earpiece off of the ringing box and greeted the operator quickly. Who would be calling him now that he’s suspended? 

 “Logan? Is this Logan Smith?” a partially familiar feminine voice asked over the receiver. 

“Yes. Who is this?” 

 Her words were spoken in rushes with pauses sounding like heavy breathing. “It’s Rosalie...Rosalie de Rossi.-” she took in a deep breath ”-I’m your captain’s wife!” After that she let out a bone-chilling moan. 

 The captain’s wife? He had only met her once at the Independence Day party at the Captain’s new mansion. Why was she calling someone like him? 

 The woman on the line hissed. “God fucking dammit! It hurts!” 

 “What hurts? What’s wrong? Where are you?” Logan threw his questions at her quickly as he reached for his notepad. 

 “My my,” a slick, whiskey smooth, masculine voice answered. He tutted. “Not very clever, Detective Smith.” 

 “Where is Mrs. de Rossi?” Logan asked. He felt as if the air around him was heavier. There was a weight settling into his chest. He ignored the familiar sensations and made a note that someone else had taken the line. 

 “She’s still alive. And she will stay that way, if you do everything I ask.” The man’s words were drawn out. Almost as if he were bored, or stalling. 

 “What do you want?” Logan hissed. The million questions he had were shoved aside when the man answered. 

 “I want your lover, Detective. Bring that filthy, grimy, Italian punk to the fisherman’s market in San Francisco after dark. Or I’ll just have to do something to your boss’ beautiful broodmare.” The voice chuckled at his sick comment. 

 This man was evil. The most evil he'd ever come across. Logan felt like he was going to topple over. “What makes you think I’ll come alone? That I won’t go straight to the captain?” 

 Laughter as dark as water at midnight bled through the receiver. “Oh Mr. Smith, that’s what I want. Give me a reason to pluck those sweet babies out of his missus.” 

 Logan heard a scream in the background. A string of curse words that he didn’t doubt were justified. 

 “Please don’t hurt her. Be reasonable. Why did you call me? I’m on suspension, I don’t have access to the resources-” 

 “Because your lover's family declared war, my boy!” the man roared. Logan identified his accent-Irish, or Scottish perhaps. “I’m going to get what I need outta him. So lock your brunette bitch away, grab your buddy and your faggot, and get your ass to my docks when the sun sets. Or-” another blood curdling scream from the woman in the background “-the captain’s dear wife and her babies drown.” 

 Just like that, the phone call ended. Logan didn’t have time to stand in the shock. Instinctive training responses immediately took over his body. He didn’t go back to the dining room and instead ran to get himself dressed. No other thoughts intruded. His head was empty of everything other than the fact that he needed backup. 

 He needed Patton. He needed to gather his resources. It was still nine in the morning. He had maybe eight hours before it was sunset, then two hours to cross the bay into San Francisco to the fisherman’s market. His mind was fixated on trying to create the quickest itinerary possible and how to notify the captain without the mysterious caller knowing. He seemed to know much more than Logan was comfortable with. 

 Logan was tying his shoes as he thought. He hadn’t told anyone about the night with Virgil. No one knew. He figured Alice may have suspected, but she hadn’t been able to talk to anyone. Not that she would. She was just a kid. She was just caught up in all of this business out of desperation and survival. Alice was just a pawn in a twisted game. She wasn’t a main player. 

 Patton was too wrapped up in his obsession with the Duke to even notice. Still, he was very angry towards Logan now that he knew Virgil was involved. Who knows what the captain and Patton talked about after Logan was dismissed. He remembered the knowing look at the Lion’s Den last month. His partner said then that he accepted everybody. Could he have been saying that to blend in? 

 Then there was the fact that this was the captain’s wife. Why kidnap her to get to Logan? He didn’t know the woman at all, only that the captain loved her very much. She was pregnant when they had met, and from the sound of the call she still was. 

 “Logan, where are you going?” Alice asked from the doorway of his bedroom. 

 “There’s an emergency. I need to go.” He pushed himself past her and rushed down the staircase. “Please stay here. Don’t leave.”

“Will Virgil be back to nanny me again?” she asked indignantly. 

 The question struck him through the heart. He couldn’t leave her unattended. She was defenseless here. The Duke's men could come looking for her. No doubt one of them was behind this in the first place as a way to distract them.

 “No. No, I-” he turned to her. “There’s trouble. I need to move you somewhere safer. You can’t be alone.” 

 Alice’s face seemed to grow ten years older. “I understand. Let’s go.” 

 They both grabbed their hats from the hook and walked out the door. Logan made his way to his car without another word. Alice felt in her gut that they were running into something more dangerous than she had ever known. 

 “Where are we going?” Alice asked after climbing into the carriage seat. Logan saw that she had withdrawn into herself. The silly child that he was starting to get introduced to had left her body. 

 “To Patton’s. I don’t think he’ll have left yet. We need his help.” Logan pulled out onto the street. “I’ll tell you on the way.” 

 Before the pair had shown up to Patton’s house, he had just drank his coffee. He didn’t need to go into the station today. All of his caseloads were closed except for one. Today was a day of regrouping and hitting the pavement. It was time for some good old fashioned talking to people again. The best way to find someone was to ask their friends or neighbors politely. Give them a smile and such. 

 He took his time getting ready. Trying to find the man that he used to be before this craziness started. The man who was able to walk down the street with faith in his heart. The detective who could solve everything with the right words someone needed to hear. That man was nowhere to be found as he pulled clothes from his closet. 

 It was a new day. He knew he would make progress today. No one was going to get the drop on him again. 

 When he sat down in his armchair his eye was caught on something on the end table. A piece of paper that didn’t seem to be from any of his  notepads. It wasn’t there when he had gone to bed the night before. 

 A familiar delicious thrill rushed through his body. Part of him thought to call on the locksmith soon, though it might not do much good. Carefully, as if the note were an explosive and not a simple message, he lifted the paper. 

 It was no simple message. 

 You’re in danger, dear detective. There are worse evils than I. Don’t do what your colleague asks. Come to me at the Lion’s Den instead. -The Duke

 Before he had time to react, there was rapid knocking at his door.

-

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A/N:

Hello there! It's been nearly a year. There's a reason for that.

I work very, very hard when it comes to my stories. This one has a very important place in my heart. I had to take a break from it because the last thing I wanted to do was make rush decisions or half-ass everything.

In doing so, it meant that I had to wait until I had the time to give it the attention it deserves. I recently had a lot of my life change this past year, mostly losing loved ones. So this fic didn't get much of it's deserved time at once.

That being said, I swear this has a direction. While a lot of it is up to interpretation, this has a very direct sequence of events. That's why it's important for me to be able to pay extra attention.

That being said, I'm making a new normal. This fic goal is to be updated every 3 months, maybe less. My practice is to edit 3 times at least before I post.

Let me know what you thought of this chapter. Tell me your theories about what will happen next! I love talking about this story with anyone who will listen.

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taglist: @deceits-left-glove 

let me know if you want to be on the taglist for this or any other ship/story

check my pinned tumblr post for more of my work 

#intruality #romantic intruality #intruality endgame #ts patton #ts logan #ts virgil #ts roman #ts remus #ts janus #intruality angst #patton angst #remus angst #logan angst #janus angst #roman angst #virgil angst #sanders sides #sanders sides fic #sanders side fanfic #sanders sides fanfiction #multi chapter #Mob AU #Human AU #1920s AU #The Duke of the Bay AU #The Duke of the Bay Part 8 #Mama Cesa writes #implied violence #angst #enemies to lovers

[thebookreader12345]

Back Home for Christmas

Pairing: Will and Jay Halstead x Sibling! reader

Summary: Y/N Halstead, the youngest of the three siblings, surprises her brothers when she comes home from duty early

Requested: No

Warnings: mentions of being in the army

Word Count: 1,283 Words

“Um, excuse me? I’m looking for Dr. Halstead,” I tell a nurse, whose scrubs read Maggie Lockwood. 

“He’s upstairs in cardiology right now. Can I deliver a message for you?” Maggie asked.

“It’s actually kind of important.” I say and take off my hat, stuffing it in my coat pocket. “Could you just get him down here, please?”

Maggie sighed. “All right. Take a seat in the waiting room. I’ll page him down here in a minute.”

“Great. Thank you,” I state and turn around, heading back into the waiting room. I took a seat in one of the chairs, and my fingers tapped away at the arm rest. My feet also couldn’t sit still, drumming up and down on the floor. It was a habit I had picked up overseas. Never sit still. My eyes darted around the room, glancing at the people sitting in the chairs. To my right, there was a mother and her daughter. To my left, an older man with a cane resting against his leg. And right in front of me, two young men who looked very similar. Brothers, perhaps. That made me smile, seeing as it was the reason I was here in the first place.

“Y/N? Is that you?” someone asked. I looked up from my lap and saw that the person who spoke was the man I had come looking for. It was the oldest of my 2 older brothers, Will.

“Will,” I greet and stand up. Will smiled and rushed over, bring me in for a hug. The feeling of being in his arms brought back memories from the past few years, giving me comfort. For a few seconds, we just stood there, enjoying each other’s embrace. It had been too long since I’d seen or even hugged Will. The last time I saw him was 2 years ago, when I had re-deployed to Iraq.

“I thought you weren’t getting back until next month?” Will questioned when we finally pulled away from each other.

“Yeah, well, my boss decided to let everyone go home early this year,” I reply. “Besides, I didn’t want to miss spending Christmas with you and Jay again.”

“Speaking of Jay, have you seen him yet?” Will asked.

“No. Not yet. That’s why I’m here. I was hoping you could help me surprise him,” I say to Will. Out of my 2 brothers, I was closer to Jay. Growing up, Jay and I were always found together. When people saw us, they assumed we were twins because of how we acted around each other. But we’re really 2 years apart. He was the one who inspired me to join the U.S. Army. I wanted to be a hero just like him. And while he had decided to come back and become a police officer, I chose to stay and serve.

“Uh, sure,” Will spoke. “What were you thinking?”

“Something small, maybe with Adam and Hailey and everyone else he works with at the district,” I respond. I was very familiar with the people Jay worked with. I had met them countless times, and had even befriended them. Will’s co-workers, however, were new to me since Will was relatively new to the job, but I was certain I would get to know them soon. “Do you think Molly’s would be a good place?”

“Yeah. Definitely. I’ll contact the district and make sure everyone is there,” Will said.

“Great. Look, I promised dad I would go have lunch with him, so I’ll see you later,” I announce.

Will grinned. “All right. Oh, and Y/N? Welcome back.” 

.................................

Will had planned out everything just like he said he would. He invited the Intelligence Unit to Molly’s, and currently, all of us were here except for Jay and Will. I had just gotten a beer from Herrmann, and now I was heading over to Adam and Hailey.

“Y/N!” Adam shouted and side hugged me. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too. Thanks for coming,” I say.

“We wouldn’t miss this for the world,” Hailey noted and took a swig of her beer. “When’s Jay supposed to be here?”

“Uh, Will is getting him now. They should be here in a few minutes,” I reply.

“So, how’s the job been?” Adam asked.

“Good. I enjoy it. I’ve earned myself a nickname,” I confess.

“Yeah? A good one, I hope,” Adam said.

I laughed. “Well, that depends on how you view it. According to my unit, I’m Bullseye. I guess I’ve got near perfect aim.”

“Maybe it runs in the Halstead genes. Jay’s our resident sniper,” Hailey disclosed.

“I believe it,” I murmur and take a gulp of beer, the bitter liquid burning the back of my throat. Just then, the door to Molly’s opened, and in walked my 2 older brothers, who were arguing playfully, probably about something stupid. As soon as Jay looked up, and his eyes met mine, a huge grin spread across his face. I set my beer down on the table and ran over to him, throwing myself into his arms. Jay held onto me tightly and spun me around, keeping his grip on me firm.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” Jay mumbled into my hair as he set my feet back down onto the ground.

“I wanted to be back home for Christmas this year,” I exclaim. “And I didn’t want to go another second without seeing my brothers. Get in here Will.” Will didn’t hesitate and joined the hug, wrapping his arms around Jay and I. When I was younger, I didn’t really like being the youngest Halstead, and it didn’t help that I was the only girl. It always felt like my brothers were trying to control my life. But now, as I’ve grown up, I’ve realized that they were just trying to look out for me.

“Where are you staying while you’re home?” Jay asked me.

“I was thinking dad’s,” I answer.

“How about you stay with me?” Jay suggested. “Unless you don’t want to, of course.”

I smiled. “I’d love to. Now, go get yourself a beer. We’re celebrating tonight.”

................................

It had been a few days since I got home, and I was having a great time with my brothers. We had a tradition for Christmas where every year, we set up a Christmas tree at one of our apartments. Since I had been gone for 2 years and hadn’t had the chance to get a new place yet, and because I was staying at Jay’s, we decided to put the tree up at his place. Christmas music was playing throughout the apartment with Will and I singing loudly, much to Jay’s dismay, and Will and I were currently placing ornaments on the tree’s branches.

“All right. I’ve got the eggnog out,” Jay called from the kitchen. Both Will and I stopped what we were doing almost immediately and rushed into the next room. Jay had 3 mugs set on the counter, and each of us grabbed one.

“Here’s to Y/N being home for Christmas this year,” Jay chimed and held up his mug.

I smiled. “Here’s to a successful Halstead Christmas.” We all cheered and clinked glasses before taking a big gulp of our drinks. “So, who’s picking the Christmas movie we watch tonight?”

“I’m sorry, but if I have to watch Rudolph one more time,” Jay said.

“Hey! It’s a classic, and we’re going to watch it,” Will argued.

“Not if I get to the remote first,” Jay challenged and took off into the living room with Will following closely behind him. Right here, in this moment, something hit me. I had the best brothers ever, and I wouldn’t trade them for the world.

___________________________

Tag List:

@prettypyschoinpink @securityfriendly-jay @scarletsoldierrr @lorenakaspersen @virtualreader @carnationworld @caitsymichelle13 @king-crockett​ @dreamingmanip @campingmonkey @winterberryfox @nevertoofarfromivar @anotherfan07 @giagma @mrspeacem1nusone @i-like-sparkly-things

#jay halstead #will halstead #jay halstead x reader #jay halstead imagine #will halstead imagine #will halstead x reader #one chicago #chicago med #chicago pd #siblings #halstead sister #halstead #halstead brothers #christmas

[twinklelilstarkey]

Stopping You - Michael Gray [Part 4]

Words: 5.7k+ (WHY DID I MAKE THIS SO LONG!!!)

Summary: Y/N and Polly have dinner with not so liked presences.

Warnings: Consumption of Alcohol. Smoking. Mentions of Cocaine. Swearing, a lot of swearing.

Prologue   Part 1   Part 2   Part 3   Part 4   Part 5

You walk in the Shelby’s betting shop with a hand over your forehead, massaging it in hopes that the pounding would go away with it.

The usual smell of cigarettes hits your lungs and you sigh while closing the front door behind you. Your heels click over the old wood and you drag your aching feet over to the table, where only some members of the Shelby family are sitting.

“Morning” You say when Polly and Arthur look up at you.

The people around the table answer you back and you walk over to Polly, who is already with a cigarette on her lips, slowly letting the smoke leave her system by her mouth. You place a kiss over her cheek and a smile grows in her face.

“How are you, my sweet?” She asks and you smile at her words.

“My head’s pounding, but other than that, ready for business” You whisper only at her and she chuckles, taking the cigarette from between her lips to take a good look at you.

You lean back to stand and walk over to where Finn is sitting, distracted with his new fancy box of cigarettes. You sit down on your usual chair while laying your hand on his neck, scratching his skin lightly with your short nails, grabbing his attention.

“How was your night?” He asks with his usual smirk, looking up at you.

“Boring after you bailed on me because of the blondie” You say with a fake harsh tone and his smirk grows into a smile.

“Is that jealousy, I hear?” He asks and you chuckle, getting Arthur’s and Polly’s attention.

“You would love if it was, wouldn’t you?” You ask, teasingly pushing him away by his shoulder and he laughs out loud.

A toothless smile grows on Polly’s face while watching you two interact and the doors from the other side of the room open, showing the people behind it: Michael and Tommy.

The memories from last night run through your mind and you look away from the younger man to stare at Polly, who looked at him with somewhat adoring eyes.

“Good morning, everyone” Tommy says while taking a cigarette out of his pocket and bringing it to his lips, brushing over them before shoving his hand in his pockets, looking for his lighter. “Michael, take a seat”

Michael does as told, adjusting his long jacket before taking his seat next to his mother, and his eyes lift over to you, making a frown grow on his face right away.

“Wasn’t this meeting family restricted?” He asks and both you and Finn stare up at him.

“Y/N has been involved with family business for over a year, she can be here” Arthur answers, not caring enough to look up at his cousin.

That is enough to make Michael shut his mouth and lean back on his chair, yet he moves his gaze towards you, noticing all the annoyance engraved in it. He, then, stares at his younger cousin and Finn’s expression is slightly more readable than yours, and it just made his presence seem more than hated around the small table.

“We’ll be hosting an event in a few days” Tommy starts, breaking your staring contest before it evolved into anything, “In 12 days to be exact. Y/N, you would be in charge of the whole organization, from the dancers to the inside of my house”

“Dancers?” You ask, lifting your glance over to Tommy.

“Oswald Mosley will be our special guest, as you know very well” He explains, “And he has his attraction for ballet dancers. I’ll give you my contacts for everything that will be necessary”

You nod at his words, already knowing the long list that will be awaiting you, from catering to setting up a team of dancers. You will have a lot to do. A lot more than you wished to.

You lose interest in the whole rest of Tommy’s speech, since you know all about it from previous conversations with him, and also that most of it is for Michael to keep up with where you’re situated, and you look around the table to study everyone’s expressions as they heard all Oswald has done or will do.

Finn is the first one to notice your disinterest in the conversation and tries to ignore it as he tries to memorize most of the information that is being dumped into this room. Michael is next: his eyes follow you as you look at Arthur for a second before looking down at your jacket, starting to play with a button attached to the fabric.

Once Tommy finishes a sentence and starts walking to some corner of the room to begin a new chapter about the day of the event, Michael is totally lost in his thoughts, noticing your now soft features from the lack of attention you’re paying to Tommy’s words.

His mind quickly takes him to where he had been fighting not to be ever since you two talked in the pub. Quite innocent memories of you two.

He studies your face in silence, noticing your slightly parted lips and his eyes drift over to your jaw, noticing a small scar, only visible from the lighting in this one particular room and the angle you’re sitting in.

The scar had come from one of your visits at a family’s home, a mother wasn’t too happy with your visit.

The lady screamed at the top of her lungs for you to leave while saying that her kids were okay, and when you just checking on her younger daughter, she slashed the side of your jaw. It was a quick move that you also flinched away when feeling it, making it smaller than the woman had intended, but it was bloody and surely a cut that would leave a scar.

The woman regrets it severely today, since you are extremely vengeful and experienced with knives.

You look up at Tommy, gaze softer than Michael expected, and you let go of the button from your, not so cheap, jacket.

Polly looks away from her nephew when he starts walking around the table and leans forward on the table to press her used cigarette on the ashtray, gathering both yours and Michael’s attention.

“And that is why we will be making our next move…” Tommy continues, not even noticing that most of the table is not even paying attention to him.

Finn lays his cheek on his fist as his elbow rests on the arm of your chair and you look over at him, taking a look at his messy hair. He must have woken up just a few minutes ago and ran over here, as usual.

Michael’s eyes shift over to Finn and stares at the way you look at the youngest in the room.

(…)

You lean back on your chair as Tommy walks out of the room to grab his ‘book’ with all the people you will need to contact. Finn had run off, to only god knows where, once the meeting was dismissed, so, now, you have to deal with the old people by yourself.

You bring your hands over your temples and start massaging them again, trying to stop the sharp pain before it got worse.

Michael and Polly look over at you for a quick second as they talk all the way back on the doorway of the shop.

“Arthur” You call, making the older man look up from the newspaper laying on the table at the centre, “What do you do to get rid of your headaches?”

“I have my ways”

You lift your head over to him with an annoyed expression.

“Care to elaborate?”

“Anything of mine can be healed by one of two things” he starts, getting Polly’s attention at the doorway, “More alcohol or snow-”

“Y/N is not doing cocaine!” Polly yells, making her voice travel throughout the whole room, making Arthur chuckle and your head pound.

You smile at them, trying not to wince in pain over the loud noise, and stare back at Polly, who is still finishing her conversation with Michael, which looks rather intense.

Tommy’s steps sound from behind you and a stack of papers is set on the table in front of you.

“Your contacts” Tommy says before clearing his throat.

You stare at the amount of phone numbers written down on the pages, all of them with the name of the person you’re intended to talk to and the name of the shop or residence.

“You can talk to Lizzie about most of the things you want to do in my home, but don’t worry too much about it” He says while taking a clean glass cup from the corner table and his bottled whiskey over to his seat.

“Alright” You say in a low voice, grabbing the stack and laying it on your lap to check if you knew some of the places.

“Y/N!” Polly calls over from the doorway, “Come with me!”

You stand up with the papers on your hand and say a quick goodbye to the oldest Shelby brothers, which you were answered with one back.

As you get to Polly and stand beside her by the front door, you notice Michael driving away in his car right as you look out.

“Let’s take care of that headache” Polly says before grabbing your hand and pulling you out of the betting shop with her.

(…)

“I love you, Polly, but it’s a ‘no’ from me” You say while writing down the amount of food the shop, whose owner you just spoke to, could provide.

It has been at least 2 days since that day of the meeting on the betting shop, and you’re still working with all those phone numbers, feeling like you’ll never reach the end of the list.

“Oh, and why is that?” Polly asks, adjusting the silk robe that hugged her body, covered by a thin expensive dress.

You sigh as you scribble your way to the next number on the long list.

“Because,” You start, “I don’t want to be stuck with their presence in a restaurant”

Polly looks at you with a disapproving look, but to no avail since you didn’t even care enough to look up from the papers you’ve been working on the whole day. She walks closer to you and sits down on the couch behind you, since you’re sitting on her carpet.

“Can’t you go, for me?” She asks with a soft tone, “You can ignore them all you want, I won’t care”

You put down your pen and look over your shoulder at her.

“If it was just us, absolutely” You say, “Without a second thought” You add.

Polly takes a deep breath and looks away from you to look at the papers, now filled with words and annotations of amounts of food, flowers and other decorations.

“Is there any way that I can make you go?” She asks, helpless, “Anything I can buy you? Cook or bake for you?”

“You can’t bake, Pol” You say with a smile growing on your face.

“I have my ways” She says, welcoming your smile.

“Are you referring to buying something of the bakery next to the Garrison?” You ask, making her smile drop and her annoyed expression return to her face.

“You used to love that shop”

“And I still do” You say, “But that isn’t enough to make me go through such a horror of a night”

Polly leans back on the couch, feeling like there’s absolutely no way that she will be able to bring you with her, but still not giving up to the fullest. Her mind is still occupied with what would be so good that it would make you want to run towards that restaurant.

Finn, surprisingly, is the first ‘thing’ that came up to mind, but Polly can’t just take the youngest boy, who seems to enjoy Michael’s company as much as you, to an expensive restaurant. Finn would break something expensive or hit Michael in only the first 5 minutes, and probably even at the same time.

She takes a look at you and how you were so quick to go back to work. You drag your tired eyes over the words to check if you didn’t forget to write something down and you grab the phone to contact the next number.

“What if I talked to Tommy so you could have a day off?” Polly asks before you could start dialling the number.

You stay silent, actually considering the offer. A day off is always accepted by you… but is it a fair trade?

“Let me have Friday off and we have a deal” You say.

Polly almost gasps in excitement at your words, while at the same time almost jumps forward to hug you.

She can’t believe that the offer of the having the day off would work, you usually enjoy working, but the more she thought about it, the more it made sense.

Finn always has his Friday’s off. How didn’t she think about this sooner?

“I’m going to start getting ready, then” Polly says excitingly with a big smile, while getting up from the couch behind you. “Try to not make us get there so late”

You smile at her words as she walks off to her bedroom and look down at the papers again.

A few more numbers wouldn’t hurt anyone, would they?

(…)

“I can’t believe we’re almost an hour late” Polly shakes her head while you two walk over to the restaurant’s door, “I told you to try to get ready quickly” She continues to scold.

You don’t react to the words much as your eyes look around the street, you were just out of Birmingham, which makes absolutely no sense why there would be a restaurant as busy as this one in the middle of nowhere.

You two step in the restaurant and your eyes almost widen at the inside.

While the outside of this place looks nothing like an expensive restaurant, the interior is just pure luxury.

Polly finishes her conversation with one of the waiters and you two start walking towards the table you were supposed to be sitting an hour ago.

Your eyes land on Michael and Gina, who are both staring at random objects around them.

“I’m so sorry for getting here so late” Polly apologizes while you stand silent behind her.

They are not getting an apology from you. No way in hell.

Their eyes lift over to you two and Gina gives a small (obviously fake) smile to Polly. The waiter puts down two other menus on the table as you move to take your seats.

Polly sits on front of Gina and you almost send her a glare as that meant that you need to sit right in front of Michael. You take off your jacket and lay it over the chair’s back before finally taking your seat.

“What took you so long?” Michael asks his mother, finally opening his mouth.

“Y/N forgot that she had to finish something for work at her office” Polly lies, giving her son a small smile.

She wouldn’t just bluntly say that you’re just a stubborn girl that enjoys seeing him in distress.

“Couldn’t she have finished it tomorrow?” Gina asks, sipping a bit of her wine.

You look up at her and give her your fakest smile.

“She is right here” You answer, making Gina look away from Polly and look at you with a rather shocked expression, “And no, it couldn’t be finished tomorrow”

“What was so urgent about that ‘something’?” Michael asks, making the three women look at him, “I’m sure Tommy wouldn’t care if you gave him anything the next day”

The urge to kick him under the table surges.

“You know how she is, Michael” Polly says with a friendly tone, “Y/N is all about being punctual at all times”

He doesn’t answer as he feels Gina’s gaze of confusion on him. How well does he know you? Was the question that replayed in Gina’s mind.

You lean back on your chair and notice Gina’s expression as if she is more than confused with Polly’s words.

Has Michael actually never said a word about you to her? You wouldn’t be surprised if that was the case. Michael has shown more and more how he simply runs away from his problems.

Oh, but you would pay well to see Gina’s reaction to everything you two have shared over your time as lovers.

Michael looks forward, noticing your gaze on Gina and he follows it, meeting his girlfriend’s eyes filled with confusion and slight annoyance over feeling ignored.

Polly ignores the exchange of looks between the trio and opens her menu, starting to read the name of each meal and what each one had.

“If you don’t mind me asking” Gina starts with a soft tone, “And I know that this will sound rude, but… What are you doing here?” She asks, directing her gaze towards you in the last words.

You open your mouth to talk but Polly is quick to answer for you, in fear that you would say something rude back.

“Y/N is like a daughter to me” She explains, making Gina seem even more confused about you.

“Is that since she started working for you?”

You can’t help but smile at how oblivious she is to everything, which is quite intriguing.

Poor thing probably doesn’t even know half of the truth.

“For me?” Polly asks, “For the Peaky Blinders, you mean?”

Gina nods.

“I believe you can say that” Polly says, looking towards you as if to check if you agree, but is met with your smile, making her a bit confused.

“Was that how you met Michael?” Gina asks, intrigued by the conversation, looking towards you.

Gina knew the answer. Michael had said a few days ago at dinner that when he had met you, you were too soft to be a Peaky Blinder.

She is just testing how the story connects on your ends.

“God no” Polly answers for you with a scoff.

Michael stares at the two women in front of him as if they were two bombs about to explode. How much of the truth could you spill before even ordering the food?

The answer is: a lot.

“Michael was the one that introduced her to us” Polly says with a smile as she looks over at her son, who did not smile back, only stared in silence.

“Oh really?” Gina asks, surprised, “Didn’t expect that”

Reality clicked on Polly’s mind as those words aligned with everything that has been asked until now. Her son had lied about you. You. The girl she had welcomed in her arms when he broke her. When Michael, her son, broke: You.

Now she understood your amusement to the whole situation, but she did not imitate it to the slightest. This just infuriated her to the maximum level.

“Had Michael never spoke about Y/N to you?” She asks, opening another door into this conversation.

“No” Gina answers sincerely, “Not until we all had that meeting in that pub, if I remember correctly”

At least that’s the only day he gave her actual answers. He didn’t even answer one of her questions on the day that Polly mentioned you at the train station.

“Interesting” She answers while sending a glare towards her son.

“How so?”

You pull the menu off Polly’s hands to check it while still having the malicious smile on your lips, and Michael’s eyes move over to you, noticing your amusement for the first time.

You look back at him when feeling his stare and your smile gets bigger when noticing his expression.

Michael Gray is scared. How fascinating.

“What’s wrong, Michael?” You ask, looking back down at the menu, “You look a little stressed”

Michael hears your words, letting his mind admire the way his name rolled off your tongue as it did years back, until he remembers that he needs to give you an answer.

“Nothing’s wrong”

You nod at his words and Gina ignores your small interaction to look at Polly.

“What is so wrong of Michael not telling me about Y/N, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Yeah, mom. What’s so wrong about that?” Michael asks, finally entering the conversation.

Polly sighs lightly.

“Nothing is wrong about what you did or didn’t do” Polly says, talking directly to her son, “I just find it extremely hard to believe it, as well as, highly surprising”

“Her existence just isn’t important in my conversations with Gina” He shrugs.

“You know very well that I’m not talking about her existence” Polly says with a disapproving tone, “Gina deserved to at least know something. Especially when you are coming into this place acting like you didn’t do anything wrong”

Your smile falls off your face and so does your rather amused look, it got replaced by a quite serious and broken one.

You lower your eyes to the words written on the menu and continue to act as if you were reading.

Michael bites his tongue and looks away from his mom, almost as if her words wounded him.

Both of your chests moved up and down rapidly as you let out heavy breaths, trying to get control back of your body and mind.

Your minds match the speed of how memories and thoughts passed through, making the situation worsen.

A man stands beside you, making Gina and Polly look up at him.

“What will you be having tonight?”

(…)

You turn the ring on your finger as Polly talks with the waiter about what kind of deserts they have and try to think about something more entertaining.

Gina listens to their conversation silently, since she’s interested in something sweet, while leaning her head over Michael’s shoulder.

You sigh out loud while letting go of the golden ring and scratch the back of your neck.

“I think I’m going home early” You whisper to Polly after leaning closer to her, making her stop talking to look at you.

“Are you okay?” She asks sweetly, with a concerned expression.

“Of course,” You offer a quick smile, “I’m just exhausted, and I need to work tomorrow morning”

You don’t care enough to look at the couple in front of you while getting up from your chair. You throw your long jacket over your shoulders and slide your arms into the sleeves.

“I’ll see you tomorrow” You whisper to Polly, who answers you with a tight smile.

You ignore the couple’s stare and walk off to the front door of the restaurant.

As you wish a goodnight to the workers at the front of the building, Polly sighs when realizing that you must be planning on walking home.

“Fuck” She whispers to herself.

“What?” Michael asks, noticing her concern.

“Y/N is walking home” She says while fighting her urge to roll her eyes in annoyance at herself for forgetting, “You two finish your meal, I’ll go take her home”

As Polly apologizes to the waiter and moves her chair back to stand but Michael is quicker.

“I’ll take her” He says, standing quickly, almost forgetting that Gina’s head was leaning on his shoulder, “You two eat your desserts”

Polly thanks him but as soon as she finishes the sentence, Michael was already out of the door of the restaurant with his jacket in hand.

He stares into one of the sides of the lonely and dark road and looks for you, but you are nowhere to be seen. He turns to the other side and sees you walking off while lighting a cigarette.

“Y/N!” He shouts while walking in quick pace towards you, “Wait up!”

You turn to see who is the crazy man that’s screaming at you and once you do it, you quickly wish you didn’t when you notice Michael running towards you.

“What are you doing?” You ask with the rudest tone you could pull off.

“My mom told me to take you home”

“Well, tell her that I’m grown enough to walk myself home” You scoff, “Go back inside”

He ignores your words and grabs your wrist, pulling you towards the parking lot. You scowl while looking at the back of his head and you can’t help but swear at him in your mind.

You yank your arm back as you reach the car and Michael unlocks the doors.

(…)

Three quarters into the drive you noticed you started wishing to be walking home for the 40th time. Not only was the silence between you uncomfortable enough to make you want to run away, the lack of communication was just the worst of it all.

You still feel very much affected by the beginning of your dinner, which just adds up to the built-up emotions you are hiding from him.

You wake up from your thoughts as Michael parks his car in front of your house and you are quick to try and jump out of the car right in that second.

“Thank you for not telling Gina anything” Michael says, making stop on your moves to look at him.

“What?”

“You could’ve told everything to Gina at the restaurant, but you didn’t. Thank you”

You stay still for at least one good minute and don’t say anything, until you let out a scoff while looking at him dumbfounded.

“You have some fucking nerve” You laugh while nodding, acknowledging the stupidity in his words. “I didn’t do that for you”

You open the door and jump out of the car before he could say anything.

You slam it, just to give your words a little more character, but you tense up in your steps as you hear his door opening as well.

“Oh really? Then why didn’t you tell her then?” He asks, in a loud tone over the distance already between you, “You could’ve ruined me and my relationship right there and then, but you didn’t. Why didn’t you?”

“Because!” You shout while turning around, “You don’t even deserve that from me! You can live your shit relationship filled with lies all you want, Michael, I don’t give enough of a fuck to destroy that for you”

“Seriously?” He asks, walking over to you, “Then why in the fuck did you act all affected by the sight of us together?”

“Are you serious?” You ask, again, dumbfounded by his words, “I’m not affected by your relationship! I’m affected at the mention of what you did TO ME!” You shout at the top of your lungs your last words.

The words echo through your street and Michael’s breathing heavies.

“All of this is because I left you?”

You scoff and turn to walk to your door, ignoring his steps behind you as your chin starts to shake and your eyes to water.

You’re able to unlock your door and slide in your house, but Michael’s foot stops it from closing on his face.

“We’re not done with our conversation” He says while forcing your door open.

You let go of the door, stripping your jacket as you walk to the living room and you try to get hold of your emotions as the tears try to spill over your cheeks.

“Just leave, Michael” You say with a calmer tone, while throwing the jacket to the side, to the couch’s back.

“You hate me this much because I left you?” He ignores what you preciously said.

“Yes” You say, still not looking at him, “Now, can you leave me alone?”

“No” He says, and you hear your front door finally close, meaning that he’s planning in staying for a little bit more time that you wished.

“Michael, please” You say, finally turning around.

Michael looks up at you and frowns a bit at the sight of your red watery eyes and you biting the inside of your cheek.

“Just leave me alone” You plead, this time, “I don’t care for your relationship, for what you do with your life, or what you wish to do with Gina after leaving Birmingham, just please. Leave my house”

“I’m sorry for what I did” He says, a way softer tone than before.

“You aren’t sorry”

“I am”

“No, you are not!” You scream again, making him flinch slightly, “If you were sorry, that apology would’ve been the first thing you told me when we first saw each other. But no, you just decided to rub in the scar how you moved on and got yourself a girlfriend that COULD BE FUCKING PREGNANT!”

Michael looks down at the floor and a sob leaves your mouth. You lay your hand over your mouth to hide the incoming whimpers and sobs.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you as much as I did” He admits.

“No, you didn’t” You agree, “You just wanted me to end that call and live a happy life, right?”

“Yes, actually”

“Well, sorry to inform you, Michael Gray, but that is not how love works” You say, voice cracking at the end, “And anyone with a least 2 braincells would know that”

He stays silent again, leaning over your couch’s back, eyes on the ground as if he’s thinking on what to say next.

“Just tell me one last thing. Why did you do it?” You ask, harshly wiping the tears off your cheeks.

Michael shakes his head, not knowing what to say to you. His chest aches at the sound of your words heavy with sadness and heartbreak, but he swallows the emotions away.

“I don’t know why I did it,” He admits, “It was stupid of me and I regretted it right away”

You grab something on the table beside you and throw it at him.

“STOP FUCKING LYING TO ME!” You shout as Michael ducks under the flying plate that shattered on the wall behind him.

“I am not lying!” He assures, “I am not fucking lying! It hurt me to do that to you and I wanted to call back and apologize, but-”

“But you’re too big of a coward to do it” You finish, “You don’t have the right to come to me and act like you left that conversation hurt like I did, Michael. You didn’t, and you should admit it to yourself”

“You’re right, I shouldn’t be doing this. But what I’m saying is true”

“Even if it is, Michael” You say, walking over closer to him, “That just shows how much of a coward you are. You regretted it, yet you were too big of a cunt to not call back and admit that you were wrong. Your pride was bigger than the pain you felt for what you did. And you only realize it now, almost 2 years later”

You’re right, more than right, you’re spot on, and Michael’s silence just confirmed it for you.

“You broke me to feel 5 seconds of pride of being a single independent man, to then realize that you’re no man at all” You say, mouth full of hatred and arrogance, “That is what you’re sorry about”

“No, that’s not true” He says, standing back on his feet and walking towards you.

“How come?”

“I am sorry for breaking your heart the way I did” He says, “And I am sorry for realizing it so late. I did not mean to ever do this much damage”

You don’t answer, feeling too tired to do it.

“Y/N, please!” He pleads, “God damn it, I am sorry that I did this to you! Please, at least, give us a change to talk this through and understand each other’s side”

“No”

“Pleas-”

“No, Michael! How can you even ask that?” You ask, frowning at him, “Is this all an act to you? You’re acting like I’m so special to you, yet you talked about me in that dinner as I was a simple girl that you met just before leaving for America”

“I never meant it like that”

“Fuck you, Michael. Fuck you and your ‘I didn’t mean to’’s” You say, “Do yourself a favour and leave before you let anymore shit come out of that mouth”

“Y/N-”

“What, Michael? What do you wish to say next?” You ask, almost screaming again, “Are you-”

“Just let me speak for a second!” He shouts, shutting you up, “Gina is the only person I’ve ever talked about you that way. Ever! I just told her that because I was scared of ruining my relationship with her”

“Then just leave, she isn’t here. She’s waiting for you at the restaurant. If she truly is the person that you care for the most, then leave!”

“I don’t care about her, right now” He says loudly, “I’m trying to show you that I still care for you, Y/N. Please, just let me fix this”

“It’s a little too late for that” You say before turning your back to him and walking towards the kitchen.

“Why?”

You turn back to him.

“Because YOU MOVED ON, MICHAEL!” You add, “That is what is hurting your case! How can you still continue to say that you still care for me and that you went through a lot of pain after that call, when you moved on?”

“I moved on to deal with my pain!”

“Just leave”

“Y/N-”

“Leave! Get out of my house, Michael! You have done enough damage already, don’t make it worse. Please!”

Michael shuts his mouth and nods at your words.

“Okay” He whispers.

He turns around and walks past the broken plate on the ground before opening the front door and slamming it on his way out.

You let out a loud sob and you don’t care enough to cover your mouth this time, letting your knees lose their strength and bring you down to the hard cold ground, as you cried in desperation of what just happened.

As your breathing quickens and your sobs get even more uncontrollable, you crawl your way to the house phone, dialling a very familiar number.

“Hello?” Finn’s groggy voice, probably from sleeping, sounds on your ear.

You sniffle and clear your throat before speaking.

“Can you come over?” You ask, your voice cracking at the small question and the memories it brings you, “I need you, right now”

“I’m on my way”

- - - - - - -

This ending hurt to write, ngl.

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[alouispo]

nondescript

“Phil‌ ‌this‌ ‌really‌ ‌doesn’t‌ ‌seem‌ ‌to‌ ‌be‌ ‌a‌ ‌good‌ ‌idea.”‌ ‌ ‌

“It’ll‌ ‌be‌ ‌fine,‌ ‌mate,‌ ‌just‌ ‌gotta‌ ‌not‌ ‌get‌ ‌caught‌ ‌and‌ ‌we’ll‌ ‌be‌ ‌good.”‌ ‌ ‌

Techno‌ ‌rolled‌ ‌his‌ ‌eyes,‌ ‌biting‌ ‌into‌ ‌an‌ ‌apple‌ ‌and‌ ‌leaning‌ ‌against‌ ‌the‌ ‌stone‌ ‌wall‌ ‌of‌ ‌the‌ ‌Syndicate.‌ ‌He‌ ‌had‌ ‌warned‌ ‌Philza‌ ‌of‌ ‌what‌ ‌was‌ ‌going‌ ‌to‌ ‌happen‌ ‌if‌ ‌he‌ ‌attempted‌ ‌to‌ ‌experiment‌ ‌on‌ ‌the‌ ‌table‌ ‌pieces,‌ ‌but‌ ‌for‌ ‌once‌, the elder man ‌wouldn’t‌ ‌listen‌ ‌to‌ ‌him.‌ ‌ ‌

Phil‌ ‌had‌ ‌always‌ ‌been‌ ‌someone ‌of‌ ‌knowledge,‌ ‌and‌ ‌the‌ ‌opportunity‌ ‌to‌ ‌find‌ ‌out‌ ‌more‌ ‌about‌ ‌the‌ ‌ancients‌ ‌was‌ ‌too‌ ‌good‌ ‌to‌ ‌pass‌ ‌up.‌ ‌The‌ ‌piglin‌ ‌hybrid‌ ‌was‌ ‌sure‌ ‌that‌ ‌they‌ ‌were‌ ‌going‌ ‌to‌ ‌get‌ ‌into‌ ‌some‌ ‌deep‌ ‌trouble‌ ‌with‌ ‌Dream‌ ‌XD.‌ ‌He‌ ‌wasn’t‌ ‌sure‌ ‌that‌ ‌the‌ ‌foretold‌ ‌God‌ ‌of‌ ‌this‌ ‌server‌ ‌was‌ ‌actually‌ ‌real,‌ ‌but‌ ‌the‌ ‌stuff‌ ‌he‌ ‌learned‌ ‌from‌ ‌meeting‌ ‌Drista‌ ‌and‌ ‌her‌ ‌hold‌ ‌on‌ ‌the‌ ‌members‌ ‌of‌ ‌the‌ ‌SMP‌ ‌was‌ ‌enough‌ ‌to‌ ‌convince‌ ‌him‌ ‌that‌ ‌he‌ ‌did‌ ‌exist.‌ ‌ ‌

Now‌ ‌that‌ ‌Techno‌ ‌thought‌ ‌about‌ ‌it,‌ ‌how‌ ‌did‌ ‌Drista‌ ‌manage‌ ‌to‌ ‌get‌ ‌onto‌ ‌the‌ ‌server?‌ ‌He‌ ‌was‌ ‌sure‌ ‌that‌ ‌Tommy‌ ‌hadn’t‌ ‌summoned‌ ‌her‌ ‌or‌ ‌anything.‌ ‌The‌ ‌kid‌ ‌wasn’t‌ ‌smart‌ ‌enough‌ ‌for‌ ‌that.‌ ‌Had‌ ‌she‌ ‌just‌ ‌magically‌ ‌appeared‌ ‌at‌ ‌one‌ ‌point‌ ‌out‌ ‌of‌ ‌nowhere?‌ ‌ 

He‌ ‌frowned‌ ‌and‌ ‌shook‌ ‌his‌ ‌head.‌ ‌Not‌ ‌important‌ ‌to‌ ‌think‌ ‌about‌ ‌right‌ ‌now.‌

‌Technoblade‌ ‌watched‌ ‌as‌ ‌Phil‌ ‌examined‌ ‌the‌ ‌table,‌ ‌putting‌ ‌a‌ ‌bunch‌ ‌of‌ ‌items‌ ‌into‌ ‌the‌ ‌holes‌ ‌of‌ ‌what‌ ‌looked‌ ‌like‌ ‌sandstone‌ ‌blocks‌ ‌with‌ ‌green‌ ‌on‌ ‌it.‌ ‌He‌ ‌blinked‌ ‌as‌ ‌the‌ ‌blaze‌ ‌dust‌ ‌Phil‌ ‌placed‌ ‌into‌ ‌the‌ ‌whole‌ ‌evaporated‌ ‌the‌ ‌moment‌ ‌it‌ ‌touched‌ ‌the‌ ‌center.‌ ‌ ‌

“It’s‌ ‌so‌ ‌strange‌ ‌isn’t‌ ‌it‌ ‌Tech?‌ ‌I‌ ‌don’t‌ ‌think‌ ‌in‌ ‌any‌ ‌of‌ ‌my‌ ‌long‌ ‌years‌ ‌of‌ ‌living‌ ‌have‌ ‌I‌ ‌ever‌ ‌seen‌ ‌anything‌ ‌like‌ ‌this,”‌ ‌Phil‌ ‌said,‌ ‌crossing‌ ‌his‌ ‌arms‌ ‌and‌ ‌slouching‌ ‌backward.‌ ‌

“I‌ ‌would‌ ‌say‌ ‌so.‌ ‌I’ve‌ ‌never‌ ‌seen‌ ‌anything‌ ‌like‌ ‌this‌ ‌either,”‌ ‌he‌ ‌replied,‌ ‌finishing‌ ‌his‌ ‌apple‌ ‌and‌ ‌going‌ ‌over‌ ‌to‌ ‌his‌ ‌oldest‌ ‌friend.‌ ‌“Cshat‌ ‌keeps‌ ‌saying‌ ‌that‌ ‌it’s‌ ‌some‌ ‌sort‌ ‌of‌ ‌portal,‌ ‌although‌ ‌I‌ ‌don’t‌ ‌know‌ ‌what‌ ‌they‌ ‌mean‌ ‌by‌ ‌that.”‌ ‌

“It‌ ‌could‌ ‌be‌ ‌a‌ ‌portal,‌ ‌but‌ ‌we‌ ‌would‌ ‌need‌ ‌something‌ ‌to‌ ‌activate‌ ‌it‌ ‌and‌ ‌I‌ ‌don’t‌ ‌think‌ ‌that‌ ‌we‌ ‌have‌ ‌anything.‌ ‌For‌ ‌all‌ ‌we‌ ‌know‌ ‌all‌ ‌the‌ ‌materials‌ ‌to‌ ‌activate‌ ‌it‌ ‌has‌ ‌disappeared‌ ‌along‌ ‌with‌ ‌the‌ ‌ancients,”‌ ‌the‌ ‌formerly‌ ‌winged‌ ‌man‌ ‌paused,‌ ‌tapping‌ ‌his‌ ‌cheek‌ ‌lightly‌ ‌as‌ ‌he‌ ‌thought.‌ ‌ ‌

“What‌ ‌are‌ ‌you‌ ‌thinking?”‌ ‌ ‌

“What‌ ‌if‌ ‌we‌ ‌tried‌ ‌something‌ ‌like‌ ‌pearls?”‌ ‌As‌ ‌if‌ ‌on‌ ‌cue,‌ ‌a‌ ‌rumble‌ ‌emanated‌ ‌from‌ ‌under‌ ‌the‌ ‌Syndicate‌ ‌room,‌ ‌making‌ ‌both‌ ‌Phil‌ ‌and‌ ‌Techno‌ ‌jump.‌ ‌They‌ ‌pulled‌ ‌out‌ ‌their‌ ‌weapons‌ ‌in‌ ‌sync,‌ ‌looking‌ ‌around‌ ‌frantically‌ ‌to‌ ‌find‌ ‌the‌ ‌source.‌ ‌ ‌

“I‌ ‌think‌ ‌it’s‌ ‌an‌ ‌earthquake!”‌ ‌Phil‌ ‌called,‌ ‌pointing‌ ‌towards‌ ‌the‌ ‌stone‌ ‌door.‌ ‌They‌ ‌were‌ ‌underground‌ ‌so‌ ‌it’s‌ ‌potentially‌ ‌more‌ ‌dangerous‌ ‌for‌ ‌them‌ ‌to‌ ‌get‌ ‌caught‌ ‌by‌ ‌rubble.‌ ‌ ‌

Both‌ ‌hybrids‌ ‌ran‌ ‌towards‌ ‌the‌ ‌door,‌ ‌only‌ ‌to‌ ‌be‌ ‌flung‌ ‌back‌ ‌to‌ ‌the‌ ‌other‌ ‌edge‌ ‌of‌ ‌the‌ ‌meeting‌ ‌room.‌ ‌Techno‌ ‌groaned‌ ‌and‌ ‌grabbed‌ ‌his‌ ‌head,‌ ‌the‌ ‌voices‌ ‌starting‌ ‌to‌ ‌scream‌ ‌too‌ ‌many‌ ‌things‌ ‌at‌ ‌once.‌ ‌ ‌

 ‌

“Danger!‌ ‌Danger!‌ ‌Danger!”‌ ‌ ‌

 ‌

“Run!‌ ‌Get‌ ‌out‌ ‌of‌ ‌there!”‌ ‌ ‌

 ‌

“Blood‌ ‌for‌ ‌the‌ ‌Blood‌ ‌God!”‌ ‌ ‌

 ‌

“It’s‌ ‌him!‌ ‌We’re‌ ‌screwed!”‌ ‌ ‌

 ‌

“Phil,‌ ‌what’s‌ ‌going‌ ‌on?”‌ ‌Techno‌ ‌questioned‌ ‌as‌ ‌the‌ ‌shaking‌ ‌stopped,‌ ‌giving‌ ‌the‌ ‌piglin‌ ‌hybrid‌ ‌leisure‌ ‌way‌ ‌to‌ ‌stand‌ ‌and‌ ‌eye‌ ‌the‌ ‌culprit.‌ ‌He‌ ‌blinked‌ ‌at‌ ‌a‌ ‌similarly-looking‌ ‌mask‌ ‌to‌ ‌the‌ ‌one‌ ‌that‌ ‌an‌ ‌old‌ ‌partner‌ ‌would‌ ‌wear,‌ ‌except‌ ‌it‌ ‌was‌ ‌sideways‌ ‌in‌ ‌the‌ ‌symbol‌ ‌of‌ ‌“XD.”‌ ‌ ‌

‘There‌ ‌is‌ ‌no‌ ‌way‌ ‌that’s‌ ‌him,’‌ ‌Techno‌ ‌thought,‌ ‌trying‌ ‌subconsciously‌ ‌to‌ ‌drown‌ ‌out‌ ‌the‌ ‌voices‌ ‌in‌ ‌order‌ ‌to‌ ‌think‌ ‌straight.‌ ‌ ‌

“‌You‌ ‌aren’t‌ ‌supposed‌ ‌to‌ ‌be‌ ‌doing‌ ‌that‌,”‌ ‌a‌ ‌voice‌ ‌he‌ ‌didn’t‌ ‌recognize‌ ‌said,‌ ‌making‌ ‌him‌ ‌wince‌ ‌as‌ ‌Cshat‌ ‌started‌ ‌shouting‌ ‌at‌ ‌him‌ ‌incoherent‌ ‌phrases.‌ ‌The‌ ‌hybrid‌ ‌glared‌ ‌at‌ ‌the‌ ‌new‌ ‌being‌ ‌eyes‌ ‌widening‌ ‌when‌ ‌he‌ ‌realized‌ ‌the‌ ‌guy‌ ‌was‌ ‌floating.‌ ‌ ‌

“Heh?”‌ ‌he‌ ‌replied,‌ ‌tilting‌ ‌his‌ ‌head‌ ‌to‌ ‌the‌ ‌side‌ ‌in‌ ‌confusion.‌ ‌ ‌

“Tech-‌ ‌Uh-‌ ‌A‌ ‌little‌ ‌help‌ ‌here‌ ‌mate?”‌ ‌he‌ ‌heard‌ ‌Phil‌ ‌call,‌ ‌making‌ ‌him‌ ‌realized‌ ‌that‌ ‌in‌ ‌fact,‌ ‌the‌ ‌new‌ ‌guy‌ ‌was‌ ‌holding‌ ‌Philza‌ ‌in‌ ‌his‌ ‌hand‌ ‌above‌ ‌the‌ ‌floor.‌ ‌

“‌THere‌ ‌are‌ ‌few‌ ‌rules‌ ‌that‌ ‌I‌ ‌enforce‌ ‌on‌ ‌this‌ ‌server‌,”‌ ‌The‌ ‌floating‌ ‌man‌ ‌said,‌ ‌going‌ ‌towards‌ ‌Technoblade‌ ‌while‌ ‌Phil‌ ‌struggled‌ ‌in‌ ‌his‌ ‌hands.‌ ‌ ‌

“‌No‌ ‌breeding‌ ‌the‌ ‌natural‌ ‌residents,‌ ‌No‌ ‌creating‌ ‌farms‌ ‌that‌ ‌can‌ ‌give‌ ‌you‌ ‌items‌ ‌without‌ ‌manual‌ ‌labor,‌ ‌and‌ ‌No‌ ‌messing‌ ‌with‌ ‌the‌ ‌things‌ ‌that‌ ‌are‌ ‌from‌ ‌places‌ ‌like‌ ‌this.‌ ‌You‌ ‌have‌ ‌both‌ ‌broken‌ ‌one‌ ‌of‌ ‌the‌ ‌rules‌ ‌that‌ ‌I‌ ‌have‌ ‌in‌ ‌place‌ ‌to‌ ‌keep‌ ‌the‌ ‌functionality‌ ‌of‌ ‌the‌ ‌SMP‌,”‌ ‌Techno‌ ‌gripped‌ ‌his‌ ‌pickaxe‌ ‌and‌ ‌prepared‌ ‌to‌ ‌fight,‌ ‌trying‌ ‌to‌ ‌think‌ ‌of‌ ‌what‌ ‌to‌ ‌do‌ ‌in‌ ‌order‌ ‌to‌ ‌save‌ ‌his‌ ‌friend.‌ ‌ ‌

“Let‌ ‌me‌ ‌go‌ ‌you‌ ‌oversized,‌ ‌blanket-wearing‌ ‌piece‌ ‌of‌ ‌shit!”‌ ‌Phil‌ ‌shouted,‌ ‌kicking‌ ‌the‌ ‌man‌ ‌-if‌ ‌you‌ ‌could‌ ‌even‌ ‌say‌ ‌that-‌ ‌in‌ ‌the‌ ‌side.‌ ‌Techno‌ ‌winced;‌ ‌he‌ ‌knew‌ ‌that‌ ‌the‌ ‌Angel‌ ‌packed‌ ‌a‌ ‌huge‌ ‌punch‌ ‌when‌ ‌it‌ ‌came‌ ‌to‌ ‌kicking.‌ ‌You‌ ‌could‌ ‌say‌ ‌it‌ ‌was‌ ‌from‌ ‌his‌ ‌bird‌ ‌genetics‌ ‌but‌ ‌still.‌ ‌ 

The‌ ‌God‌ ‌didn’t‌ ‌even‌ ‌seem‌ ‌phased.‌ ‌Just‌ ‌annoyed.‌ ‌He‌ ‌scoffed‌ ‌and‌ ‌half-heartedly‌ ‌tossed‌ ‌the‌ ‌bird‌ ‌hybrid‌ ‌towards‌ ‌the‌ ‌piglin,‌ ‌both‌ ‌of‌ ‌them‌ ‌crashing‌ ‌into‌ ‌each‌ ‌other‌ ‌harsher‌ ‌than‌ ‌expected‌ ‌before‌ ‌falling.‌ ‌ ‌

Wait,‌ ‌falling?‌ ‌

Techno‌ ‌made‌ ‌a‌ ‌shout‌ ‌of‌ ‌confusion‌ ‌as‌ ‌he‌ ‌was‌ ‌suddenly‌ ‌enveloped‌ ‌in‌ ‌black,‌ ‌accidentally‌ ‌letting‌ ‌go‌ ‌of‌ ‌Phil‌ ‌as‌ ‌they‌ ‌fell‌ ‌at‌ ‌a‌ ‌faster‌ ‌than‌ ‌normal‌ ‌speed in the dark abyss.‌ ‌How‌ ‌were‌ ‌they‌ ‌even‌ ‌falling‌ ‌in‌ ‌the‌ ‌first‌ ‌place?‌ ‌Wait,‌ ‌of‌ ‌course.‌ ‌They‌ ‌were‌ ‌facing‌ ‌what‌ ‌appeared‌ ‌to‌ ‌be‌ ‌Dream‌ ‌XD.‌ ‌Practically‌ ‌the‌ ‌God‌ ‌of‌ ‌the‌ ‌SMP.‌ ‌It‌ ‌was‌ ‌called‌ ‌the‌ ‌Dream‌ ‌SMP‌ ‌for‌ ‌a‌ ‌reason.‌ ‌ ‌

He‌ ‌whipped‌ ‌his‌ ‌head‌ ‌to‌ ‌the‌ ‌right‌ ‌of‌ ‌him,‌ ‌sensing‌ ‌the‌ ‌God’s‌ ‌presence‌ ‌once‌ ‌again.‌ ‌Instinctually,‌ ‌he‌ ‌reached‌ ‌out‌ ‌to‌ ‌Phil,‌ ‌grabbing‌ ‌the‌ ‌man’s‌ ‌sleeve‌ ‌in‌ ‌case‌ ‌he‌ ‌got‌ ‌grabbed‌ ‌again.‌ ‌ ‌

“‌You‌ ‌are‌ ‌now‌ ‌banished‌ ‌from‌ ‌the‌ ‌SMP‌ ‌temporarily,‌ ‌as‌ ‌punishment‌ ‌for‌ ‌breaking‌ ‌the‌ ‌rules‌ ‌that‌ ‌you‌ ‌are‌ ‌very‌ ‌aware‌ ‌of‌,”‌ ‌the‌ ‌God‌ ‌floated‌ ‌next‌ ‌to‌ ‌them‌ ‌leisurely,‌ ‌not‌ ‌affected‌ ‌at‌ ‌all‌ ‌by‌ ‌the‌ ‌massive‌ ‌wind‌ ‌pushing‌ ‌past‌ ‌them.‌ ‌ ‌

“‌You’re‌ ‌welcome‌ ‌to‌ ‌come‌ ‌back‌ ‌to‌ ‌the‌ ‌Dream‌ ‌SMP,‌ ‌that‌ ‌is,‌ ‌if‌ ‌you‌ ‌find‌ ‌a‌ ‌way‌ ‌to‌ ‌get‌ ‌back‌ ‌in‌ ‌the‌ ‌first‌ ‌place‌,”‌ ‌Before‌ ‌Techno‌ ‌could‌ ‌even‌ ‌comprehend‌ ‌what‌ ‌that‌ ‌meant,‌ ‌he‌ ‌was‌ ‌suddenly‌ ‌flashed‌ ‌with‌ ‌a‌ ‌bright‌ ‌light‌ ‌and‌ ‌a‌ ‌blue‌ ‌sky.‌ ‌ 

“Shit,‌ ‌shit,‌ ‌shit,‌ ‌shit,‌ ‌shit!”‌ ‌he‌ ‌heard‌ ‌Phil‌ ‌shout,‌ ‌although‌ ‌just‌ ‌barely‌ ‌since‌ ‌the‌ ‌wind‌ ‌was‌ ‌whistling‌ ‌past‌ ‌his‌ ‌ears‌ ‌too‌ ‌loudly‌ ‌to‌ ‌understand‌ ‌anything‌ ‌else‌ ‌that‌ ‌he‌ ‌said.‌ ‌ ‌

Red‌ ‌eyes‌ ‌looked‌ ‌behind‌ ‌him,‌ ‌towards‌ ‌the‌ ‌rapidly‌ ‌approaching‌ ‌floor.‌ ‌Techno‌ ‌winced‌ ‌as‌ ‌they‌ ‌burst‌ ‌through‌ ‌the‌ ‌clouds,‌ ‌grabbing‌ ‌Phil‌ ‌and‌ ‌pulling‌ ‌him‌ ‌closer‌ ‌as‌ ‌to‌ ‌shield‌ ‌him‌ ‌from‌ ‌the‌ ‌impending‌ ‌crash‌ ‌they‌ ‌were‌ ‌about‌ ‌to‌ ‌endure.‌ ‌He‌ ‌watched‌ ‌as‌ ‌Philza‌ ‌searched‌ ‌through‌ ‌his‌ ‌inventory,‌ ‌looking‌ ‌to‌ ‌find‌ ‌a‌ ‌water‌ ‌bucket‌ ‌or‌ ‌a‌ ‌boat‌ ‌that‌ ‌they‌ ‌could‌ ‌use‌ ‌to‌ ‌ease‌ ‌the‌ ‌fall.‌ ‌ ‌

They‌ ‌would‌ ‌surely‌ ‌die‌ ‌if‌ ‌they‌ ‌hit‌ ‌the‌ ‌ground‌ ‌from‌ ‌that‌ ‌height‌ ‌in‌ ‌the‌ ‌air.‌ ‌Techno‌ ‌would‌ ‌be‌ ‌fine‌ ‌since‌ ‌he‌ ‌had‌ ‌extra‌ ‌lives‌ ‌to‌ ‌spare,‌ ‌but‌ ‌Phil‌ ‌wouldn’t.‌ ‌He‌ ‌was‌ ‌certain‌ ‌that‌ ‌the‌ ‌older‌ ‌man‌ ‌had‌ ‌something‌ ‌called‌ ‌Hardcore,‌ ‌which‌ ‌meant‌ ‌that‌ ‌he‌ ‌was‌ ‌only‌ ‌born‌ ‌with‌ ‌one‌ ‌life‌ ‌and‌ ‌after‌ ‌he‌ ‌lost‌ ‌it,‌ ‌that‌ ‌was‌ ‌the‌ ‌end.‌ ‌ ‌

“I‌ ‌can’t‌ ‌find‌ ‌a‌ ‌water‌ ‌bucket!”‌ ‌Phil‌ ‌shouted,‌ ‌closing‌ ‌his‌ ‌inventory‌ ‌and‌ ‌involuntarily‌ ‌flaring‌ ‌out‌ ‌his‌ ‌wings.‌ ‌Techno‌ ‌couldn’t‌ ‌help‌ ‌but‌ ‌feel‌ ‌bad‌ ‌every‌ ‌time‌ ‌he‌ ‌looked‌ ‌at‌ ‌them,‌ ‌remembering‌ ‌how‌ ‌nice‌ ‌they‌ ‌used‌ ‌to‌ ‌be‌ ‌before‌ ‌Phil‌ ‌joined‌ ‌the‌ ‌Dream‌ ‌SMP.‌ ‌

“Techno‌ ‌you‌ ‌have‌ ‌to‌ ‌check‌ ‌your‌ ‌stuff‌ ‌for‌ ‌it!”‌ ‌He‌ ‌shouted,‌ ‌gripping‌ ‌onto‌ ‌the‌ ‌piglins‌ ‌cape.‌ ‌ ‌

 ‌Muttering‌ ‌swears‌ ‌under‌ ‌his‌ ‌breath,‌ ‌Techno‌ ‌released‌ ‌one‌ ‌hand‌ ‌off‌ ‌of‌ ‌Phil‌ ‌and‌ ‌looked‌ ‌through‌ ‌his‌ ‌inventory,‌ ‌immediately‌ ‌finding‌ ‌a‌ ‌water‌ ‌bucket‌ ‌and‌ ‌tossing‌ ‌it‌ ‌to‌ ‌the‌ ‌bird‌ ‌hybrid.‌ ‌Techno‌ ‌was‌ ‌admittedly‌ ‌not‌ ‌as‌ ‌good‌ ‌at‌ ‌clutches‌ ‌as‌ ‌Phil‌ ‌was,‌ ‌mainly‌ ‌because‌ ‌of‌ ‌his‌ ‌lack‌ ‌of‌ ‌needing‌ ‌to‌ ‌do‌ ‌any.‌ ‌He‌ ‌could‌ ‌only‌ ‌hope‌ ‌that‌ ‌Phil‌ ‌was‌ ‌able‌ ‌to‌ ‌make‌ ‌it.‌ ‌Techno‌ ‌stared‌ ‌at‌ ‌the‌ ‌ground‌ ‌that‌ ‌was‌ ‌getting‌ ‌ever‌ ‌so‌ ‌closer,‌ ‌feeling‌ ‌his‌ ‌old‌ ‌friend‌ ‌tense‌ ‌up‌ ‌as‌ ‌he‌ ‌waited‌ ‌to‌ ‌place‌ ‌the‌ ‌water.‌ ‌ ‌ 

The‌ ‌piglin‌ ‌hybrid‌ ‌closed‌ ‌his‌ ‌eyes‌ ‌and‌ ‌gripped‌ ‌tightly‌ ‌onto‌ ‌Phil,‌ ‌trusting‌ ‌that‌ ‌the‌ ‌winged‌ ‌hybrid‌ ‌would‌ ‌be‌ ‌able‌ ‌to‌ ‌save the both of them from the fall. 

    When he opened his eyes again, he was lying on the grass of a forest floor, drenched in water with Phil shaking him awake. 

“Techno! Techno wake up!” he shouted, shaking him a lot harder than necessary. 

“I’m up, I’m up,” he groaned groggily, sitting up and shaking his head to get the water out of his hair and adjust his crown. 

Red eyes scanned the area, not recognizing where they were. It was strange not recognizing the terrain of where you were, Techno was exceptional at memorizing the entire area of where he was, even if it wasn’t for battle purposes. He wasn’t exactly sure when he started doing it, but it was useful so he really didn’t mind. 

“Do you have any idea of where we are? I don’t recognize this place at all,” Phil said, holding out his hand to help the taller hybrid up on his feet. 

“No clue. And you know it’s not good when I don’t recognize where I am,” Techno replied. 

“Yeah, yeah, you and your whole human compass shabiz,” Phil said, looking up to the sky. 

“That’s not a word Phil.” 

“Whatever mate,” he laughed, giving the piglin back the water bucket. 

They both went silent, listening to the sounds of the wildlife and examining the trees. 

“We must be really far from the SMP for this place to be completely untouched,” Techno noted, pulling out his communicator and opening coordinates. 

“You’re right about that. I wonder if we could come back here to live one day,” Phil muttered to himself, crossing his arms and hiding his damaged wings back under his cloak. Techno paused as his head filled up with multiple ‘Aww’s’ making him unsure whether or not to reply back or cringe indefinitely. 

“Uh, Phil?” Techno said, electing to ignore what Phil said and focus on getting back. “Let’s go, the comms say that spawn is over this way,” the bird hybrid nodded, both of them going towards the spawn area. 

   As they continued walking, Techno couldn’t help but feel that something is off. He glanced back at the coords, realizing that they were only two thousand blocks away from spawn. 

“Phil?” Techno asked, pausing as his brow furrowed in confusion. 

“Yeah mate?” his friend replied, pausing at the same time. “What’s wrong?” 

“The communicator says that we are only two-thousand blocks away from spawn,” he said, looking around at the still very unfamiliar terrain. 

“There’s no way. This looks nothing like the area around spawn. It’s not even the same biome!” Phil exclaimed, gesturing around the area wildly, making the obvious even more obvious.

“Come on, lets get to zero, zero quickly, I think some things really off Phil,” Techno decided, pushing through the trees with Phil trailing right behind him. 

“What do you think is happening?” the shorter male called, catching up so they were running side by side. 

“I don’t know,” he called back, frowning and checking to make sure they were still going in the right direction. “I think it has something to do with Dream XD and us falling through that weird black abyss thing,” he added. 

“Do you think we could be in a completely different server?” Phil huffed, holding his hat on the top of his head as it threatened to fall off. 

‘It’s unlikely, but still possible. I don’t think Dream XD would have the power to send people to other servers. Especially if they need a whitelist to be able to get into it,” Techno replied, taking out his axe and breaking off a branch that got in his way. 

Techno watched as the biome changed into a flower forest, making him slow down a bit as the gap between them and spawn closed exceptionally. 

“What if there are people here mate? What do we do then?” Phil asked, adjusting his tunic under his cloak. 

“Since when did I have to answer all of the questions?” the piglin joked, switching his axe for his battle pickaxe. 

The older man laughed,” That’s a good point Techno, you know, maybe I should start-”

He trailed off, confusing Techno as he tried to see what Phil was looking at. When he looked up he noticed something in the sky. 

“Is that a flying island?”

part one :D

#tommyinnit #philza #technoblade #DREAM xD #origins smp #dream smp #dream smp fanfiction

[dumblydork]

Summer

Hello! I am SO sorry for having gone MIA all of a sudden on Tumblr and Ao3, but life caught up once exams ended and I was in a deep, dark place for sometime. But not to worry, because I'm definitely better now, and finally got over my writer's block/unmotivation (if that's a word) and what better way to start off writing again if not with a Hinny fic?

As usual, I hope you enjoy this sort of non-magic alternate universe, maybe a modern meet-cute of sorts? From the one and only Ginny Weasley's perspective, of course.

Again, you can find my Ao3 right here where I post quite fluffy Wolfstar one shots!

----

The summer was harsh in Cornwall, which was where Ginny's family home was situated. She went up to university in London, just having recently finished her second year in Drama. Last summer, she was on a long trip with her best friend Luna, and hadn't been able to make it down to be with her family. But this year, she fully intended to spend as much time as possible with them, even if her older twin brothers were being annoying arses.

"Fred, George, just wipe the bloody tables already!" She screamed, exasperated, even though the twins were not even 20 feet away. The only unique cafe-by-day/restaurant-by-night was owned by Ginny's family. It was a quaint place, serving the best coffee to tourists and locals alike, along with not such a sharply contrasted cosy restaurant theme the place adopted when the sun went down.

And currently, the cafe was a few hours away from opening as a restaurant, and was left in the care of Ginny and her older twin brothers. She had another older brother after the twins, but he was off with his university friends (being an year older) and had even MORE older brothers ranked above the twins. Her oldest brother Bill, worked as a vet in New York, also where the second brother Charlie worked as an art curator. The third brother Percy was currently obtaining his PhD in some sort of Math which Ginny was too 'humanities' to understand (in Percy's own words, that subject bigot). The brothers after Percy, twins Fred and George were as stated, being annoying prats but worked in some sort of prank shop, much to their mother and Percy's chagrin (Between us and her, Ginny never understood why Percy felt a need to voice this opinion, because if Ginny also opened her mouth to provide an opinion on every single thing under the sun, working in a prank shop was perfectly acceptable).

Finally the last brother Ron went to university in Devon, having recently finished his degree in Astronomy combined with Philosophy, and that was it. Growing up with 6 older brothers, Ginny was significantly hot tempered, a trait often made fun of because of her (and her whole family's) flaming red hair.

"Oh for God's sake the two of you, just shut up if you don't want to do any work!" She finally snapped, causing two identical pairs of brownish eyes to look at her.

"Okay!" They smirked, before actually rushing away to the back of the cafe. Ginny sighed, wondering for the tenth time that afternoon why she bothered to come down here in summer. The twins, despite being her favourite, were useless gits-

"Ginny! Where are Fred and George?" Her mother's voice flew out from the front of the store, removing Ginny from her trail of thoughts, where Molly stood with hands laden with grocery bags. Her father, Arthur, she saw outside from the huge floor to ceiling windows, was unloading the boot of their car of more paper bags.

"They ran away after being absolutely useless gits." She muttered angrily, almost aggressively wiping a glass and placing it on the shelves behind her.

Her mother let out a long suffering sigh, but nevertheless joined Ginny in tidying up the cafe. "They're quite irresponsible." Molly sighed, wiping down tables at a superhuman speed.

"Mum if it's okay, can I join Ron and his friends at the party happening down at the beach?" Ginny asked apprehensively. The question had been burning at the back of her mind since the morning when Ron actually invited her to the beach party being thrown by one of the local boys. He had brought his uni friends and girlfriend down from Devon, and Ginny had already met Hermione, Ron's soulmate, if their behaviour was anything to go by.

Being in an all girls school, Ginny practically grew up with her girlfriends gushing about boys and celebrities, often almost swooning like some Victorian women when boys from the neighbouring school passed by their grounds.

However, Ginny was smart- if having six brothers had taught her anything, it was that boys were annoying, and only a few handful of them were actually decent. But now, looking at how close Ron and Hermione were, Ginny was starting to long for her own sort of romance. It had been over a year since she broke up with her first and only boyfriend Dean. She was convinced the breakup had solidified her stance on relationships, which was that relationships were okay but there was no need to actively look for one. Ron and Hermione's lovey dovey-ness was revolting, but uncharacteristically had Ginny pining away for her love story as well. Not that she'd ever admit it, of course.

"Well there's nothing really to do, and if it's busy there's a lot of pairs of hands to help. So sure, go on." Molly finally said and Ginny could almost fist pump, if it wasn't for the wet rag she was holding.

The evening rolled around quicker than Ginny anticipated, and before she knew it, her and Hermione stood in Ginny's small attic bedroom, getting ready for the party. "So, tell me, how was Dean?" Hermione asked, looking behind at Ginny through the mirror, where the younger girl stood blinking away extra mascara.

"Oh well, he was alright. Nothing like fireworks or sparkle." Ginny flushed slightly as she processed her own words. Oh, how she sounded like a lovestruck 12 year old.

However, Hermione didn't seem to mind. She simply grinned. "I'm sure with the right person it's more than just sparkles and fireworks." Hermione winked, and Ginny wondered if there was more to the statement than she understood. However, Hermione was already done with the topic, now going on about her course and what plans Ginny had for after university.

They walked downstairs, finding Ron standing at the door, his eyes glued to Hermione as she walked down the stairs. To be fair, Hermione definitely looked stunning- even if it was for a casual beach party. Ginny noted slightly bitterly to herself how the simplest pair of jeans and top could make one gorgeous to the right eyes. She breathed deeply as Ron wrapped an arm around his girlfriend, the girlfriend in question smirking back at Ginny as she followed them. Okay, very confusing.

The walk to the beach from the cafe was short, and there was already a bonfire going in the distance, with some upbeat song playing from someone's phone. "So, where is Harry and everyone else?" Hermione asked, looking around. Ron still had a hand in Hermione's as the two of them looked around for who had to be Ron's friends. "Neville!" Ron suddenly yelled good naturedly, as a tall guy walked towards the three of them with a big grin on his face.

"Ron! Hermione!" Neville hugged each of them in turn, smiling broadly at Ginny.

"Neville, this is my younger sister Ginny. Ginny, that's one of our friends from uni, Neville." Ron introduced. Ginny waved, which was returned by Neville.

"Is your girlfriend here as well?" Hermione asked, to which Ron added, "Oh, do we finally get to meet the elusive To-Be-Mrs. Longbottom?"

Perhaps having noticed Ginny's confusion, Neville clarified. "These two here haven't had the chance to meet my girlfriend- well, fiance as of a week, yet. In answer to your question Ron, no, she unfortunately couldn't make it. But she's been inviting the two of you over for dinner since ages." He turned to Ron.

"Actually yeah, we should definitely go. Anybody seen Harry?" Ron asked, looking around the small crowd of people. Ginny moved away from the couple to sit next to the fire, and grab a cold beer in the process.

She had just made herself comfortable slightly away from the warm fire when a figure sat down next to her, causing shivers to go up her left side. "Hi, you must be Ginny." The figure spoke and Ginny looked to the source of the voice, to be met by the unruliest mop of black hair she had ever seen on a human, and twinkling green eyes. In the soft light from the fire, they glowed slightly amber.

"I am. But I don't think I've met you?"

Ginny didn't get an answer because Ron's voice interrupted them. "Harry, you came!" He shouted, the figure (Harry) getting up to tackle Ron in a hug.

"Of course I did, getting sloshed at your best mate's beach party is always infinitely better than home." Harry grinned, and Ginny started to feel her heart race.

"I see you've met Ginny." Ron said, sitting down in between her and Harry.

"I just did, yeah." Harry smiled mischievously. They had moved closer to the fire, and in the brighter light, Harry's face was more distinct. And boy was he fit. The hair, even though messy, was not unattractive (quite the opposite), and his face was slightly round, made rounder by the permanent grin which seemed to reside there. And his eyes were covered by round glasses, reflecting off the orange from the fire.

"Well anyway, Gin, this is Harry, my best mate from university. He just made it down here to Cornwall." Ron said, and suddenly got up to fetch more drinks, but Ginny didn't miss the glares Hermione was shooting Ron from across the fire.

"Do you reckon we go a bit further away?" Ginny, being so busy interpreting the look Hermione was giving Ron, hadn't noticed the boy had shifted closer to her.

"Uh, sure." She found herself slightly tongue tied, staring into green amber.

"Brilliant, Let's go?" Harry got up, and lent Ginny a hand. She took it, and a slight warmth, probably not from the fire, ran down her spine when their hands remained connected.

They walked away from the party, not too far that a search team would be required, but just far enough to hold a conversation in peace. The music slightly played in the background, a slower guitar theme, and Ginny turned around to see Ron and Hermione swaying around the fire, the brightest smile settled on both their faces. Ginny simply let out a happy sigh, attention darting down to entwined hands.

"So, Ron tells me you're in drama?" He asked, as they sat down near the water with their legs bent, just that the waves touched their toes and washed back.

"Yes, I am, final year now. Although I haven't heard a lot about you?" Ginny teased. Harry simply chuckled, a sound she realised she found much more attractive than she should have.

"Well it's a shame since I am his best mate but, Harry Potter, third year medic, at your service." He lightly bowed his head, eliciting a giggle out of the girl.

"Medicine huh, that definitely sounds hectic." She commented, as her fingers drew an absent minded pattern in the sand separating their sitting figures.

"I also captain the football team." He replied, eyes shining with humor. Ginny looked up, wondering if it was a coincidence that the man she found extremely fit also checked off all her criterion of 'boyfriend'.

"Oh- well I don't know how you found the time to be here, what with studying and football." Ginny smiled. Harry looked back at her, eyes boring into her brown ones. "Only because I was told someone stunning was going to be here." He said in a lower voice. Ginny flushed under the stare.

"I'm sure having those feelings for your best mate's girlfriend is not a good idea." She teased, feeling some confidence seeping into her. Harry scooted closer, placing a hand on Ginny's.

"And what if I said they weren't for the girlfriend, but for the sister?" His eyes darted down to her lips, her own pulse quickening. Then continuing with her sudden confidence, she unconsciously leaned in, her lips just millimeters away from Harry's. "The sister would definitely like that because she thinks you're extremely fit too." Ginny whispered, her lips just brushing against Harry's before he closed the distance completely.

The two of them sat there, away from the party, lips moving in slow sync as if they were doing the communicating. Getting to know each other in silent movements, a dance of attraction and dominance. Thee music faded in the background, as behind her closed eyes Ginny saw stars, and faintly made out the sound of fireworks exploding behind them. Not that she'd admit it to anyone, of course.

But in that moment, it was just her, Harry and the cool water playing with their feet. And when they finally pulled apart, Ginny secretly swore that she saw her reflection in green pools glow and sparkle.

Not that she'd ever admit it, obviously.

----

TAGLIST: @amy-herondale-chase // @purplepygmypuffskein // @ginnypxtter // @alwaysmagica1 // @norakelly // @her-blazing-look //

----

Okay, I hope you guys enjoyed that! I wrote that when I was half asleep, so I'm not even sure if most of it makes sense haha.

As usual, if you want to join the taglist and be notified whenever I write a new Hinny story (which will be much more frequently now), please interact with the pinned TAGLIST post on my account!

Thank you for reading, and please interact with the post! Reblogs are always appreciated but likes and comments are just as amazing! Loads of virtual hugs xxx

#hinny #alternate universe #harry potter #headcanon #harry x ginny #ginny weasley #romance #au #fiction #beach #summer #party #okay out of tags #writing #ao3 writer #taglist

[thefinalcinderella]

Kaze ga Tsuyoku Fuiteiru Chapter 8 - Winter Comes Again (Part 2)

Glad that Kakeru matured but part of me wished he pushed Sakaki down the mountain

Full list of translations here

Translation Notes

1. The Hakone Tozan Line is a mountain railway that goes up Mount Hakone

2. The Tokyo Big6 Baseball League is a baseball league that features 6 prominent Tokyo universities and the oldest in Japan

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In addition to regular training, they also started to do trial runs of the actual course. Since there was a lot of traffic on all the roads, test runs were prohibited, but that didn’t mean the day of the race would come without them having run it even once.

Early in the morning, when there were fewer cars, the members of Chikusei-sou got into the van and headed out, sometimes to the Otemachi area, other times to the Shonan coast. They tried to run the course with their own feet, little by little, in small chunks. They engraved into their minds and bodies the ups and downs of the road, and what sort of landmarks were at each kilometer mark.

Kiyose already seemed to have a rough idea of who would run which leg in his head.

When they were doing a trial run near Yokohama Station, Kiyose said, “Kakeru, do you want to run the second leg?”

The second leg, which went from Tsurumi to Totsuka through Yokohama, was also called ‘Leg 2 of Flowers’ and the aces from each school were often entered into it. Even if you ran a good time in the Hakone Ekiden, whether that was in the second leg or the other legs would make a difference in the backing you got from corporations.

“No,” Kakeru answered.

He wasn’t fixated on Leg 2 of Flowers. No matter which leg he got, he was going to run with all his strength as long as there was a road.

“I see,” Kiyose said, and then silently checked the course.

At the end of October, they went to do a trial run at Hakone. The mountains of Hakone were a single, winding, narrow road. Even though it was a little early for the leaves to have changed color, it was still congested at the weekend.

Kiyose parked the van in the parking lot in front of Hakone-Yumoto Station.

“Now, let’s all run to Lake Ashi,” he said.

“No—!” The twins protested without a moment’s delay.

“On that tough slope that’s hard to even walk up normally? You’re telling us to run twenty kilometers up that?”

“Isn’t it better for only the person who’s running this leg to do the trial run?”

The leg from the Odawara relay station to Lake Ashi, the finish line for the outward route, was called the fifth leg. Most of it consisted of climbing up the slopes of the mountains of Hakone. The sixth leg return trip on the next day was conversely nothing but downward slopes. They had to ascend and descend more than eight hundred meters of altitude all at once.

Each school entered uphill and downhill specialists for the fifth and sixth legs respectively. They were legs that didn’t just require running ability, but also mental and physical strength suited to mountains; the way of doing things was different from running on a flat road. The runners of the fifth and sixth legs needed the tenacity to face the endless uphill slopes, or the courage to go as fast as they could on sudden downward slopes without getting cold feet. Naturally, it put a lot of strain on the legs, so it was preferable to have a body that was not prone to injuries.

“Shindou-san is a shoo-in for the fifth leg,” Prince said. “Upward slopes are his specialty.”

“We came all the way here together and I’m the only one running?” Even Shindou’s expression clouded over, probably thinking about all the uphill climbs that lay ahead.

“Everyone’s climbing,” Kiyose asserted. “Don’t you want to see the place we’re heading for as we hand over the sash? You know, Lake Ashi? The most scenic spot near Tokyo?”

“We’ll see it on the day of the race, so I’m fine for now,” King said.

“I don’t think there will be many people who will be able to see it on the day.” Kakeru tilted his head. “We're short on people, so we not only have to run, but also attend to the runners at the relay stations.”

“Then we’ll see it on TV the year after next!” Jouji struggled in vain, but Kiyose had already stopped listening.

“Okay, get ready.”

The mountains of Hakone were more perilous than they imagined. The zigzagging upward slopes went on for what seemed like an eternity.

Kakeru resolutely ran up the mountain together with Kiyose and Shindou. Kiyose was giving Shindou detailed instructions on where to find the places that would tell him his distance and what to look out for when running. However, the others tried to get on the Hakone Tozan Line (1) whenever they saw a chance. Eventually, their speed was no different from walking.

“Maintain your pace,” Kiyose said as he let Shindou go ahead of him. He then looked back. “What’s wrong, you’re too slow!” Kakeru also stopped and waited for everyone to catch up. From the windows of the congested cars, people were watching the jersey-clad Kakeru and the others with great interest.

After much pestering, they finally managed to reach the place with the “highest point” sign.

The highest point of Route 1 in the Hakone mountains was 874 meters above sea level. At that point, the road became wider and the view opened up. The wind was much colder than in Tokyo, making the zebra grass fields ripple like the sea. Kakeru zipped up his jersey all the way to his neck.

A little way down from the highest point, Shindou was waiting for everyone to join him.

“Oh my, that is…” Musa frowned.

Shindou wasn’t the only one there—there were several people wearing TSU jerseys gathered there. They also seemed to be doing a trial run like Kansei. When Kakeru saw that Sakaki was among them, he thought, I don’t like this.

When Sakaki saw that all the members of Chikusei-sou were gathered, he approached them. Kiyose looked unconcerned, pretending not to recognize him, but Kakeru braced himself. Not only the twins and the second-floor residents, but even Nico-chan and Yuki, who usually maintained their mature demeanour, turned toward Sakaki menacingly.

Sakaki didn’t even seem to care that he wasn’t welcome. He stood in front of Kakeru and called out to him amicably.

“Hey, Kurahara. You were great in the qualifiers.”

Kakeru felt disappointed; it was the first time in a long while that Sakaki hadn’t been provocative. Not knowing how to respond, he mumbled, “Ah.”

“Are you doing a trial run today? Kansei’s been training pretty hard too, I see. Let’s both do our best in the race.”

Sakaki looked up at Kakeru, smiling. What’s wrong with him? Kakeru wondered suspiciously. It was weird, since he only had the gift of coming at him as soon as he saw him. However, he might have been more inclined to acknowledge Kansei now that they had advanced to the main race. Maybe he realized that Kakeru was still serious about running and that had melted away his ill feelings from high school. If so, he was glad.

“Yeah,” Kakeru nodded. Sakaki was a former teammate who he once ran with—it was tough for Kakeru to always treat him with a thorny attitude.

Sakaki looked meaningfully at the members of Chikusei-sou standing behind Kakeru.

“You guys really are training hard. We were talking about it just now; about what would we do if we were Kansei runners.”

“What do you mean by ‘what you would do’?”

Kakeru didn’t know what Sakaki was trying to say. It didn’t matter what team you were on, you had to keep practicing and running.

Sakaki told him without dropping his smile.

“No matter how much you train, Kansei only has ten people, right? If just one person gets a cold and has to drop out, then it’s all over. Even if you somehow get into the top ten and get a seed, the fourth years are going to graduate, right? What are you going to do next year?”

Kakeru was taken by surprise: he was aiming to run the Hakone Ekiden with the members of Chikusei-sou; he was seeking his own running; he was so focused on those things that he didn’t even think about the future.

He knew that Kiyose had rejected the people who wanted to join the team after the qualifiers. Even if they wanted to join, they didn’t know how serious they were; there was no guarantee that they would want to join again next spring. No matter how hard Kakeru and the others ran in the Hakone Ekiden, depending on the results, they might not be able to get any new members. If that happened, the ten-member Kansei University team would be finished after only one year.

The truth pointed out by Sakaki caused a quiet disturbance among the members of Chikusei-sou. The twins’ expressions obviously stiffened, and Shindou, Musa, and King looked at each other uneasily. Nico-chan and Yuki tried to silence Sakaki with a look, as though to say, “That’s none of your business.” Only Prince, who was squatting on the roadside from exhaustion, yawned like it had nothing to do with him.

Just as I thought, Sakaki hasn’t forgiven me. He only approached me with a smile in order to shake up the Chikusei-sou residents.

Kakeru was exceedingly hurt by that, but this was no time to hang his head. It would be bad if things went on like this—there was no way they could run a good race in the Hakone Ekiden if their minds were wavering. Kakeru glanced at Kiyose. Kiyose’s face was cold and expressionless, like he was wearing an iron mask. Only his eyes told Kakeru, “You do something about this.”

Sakaki is talking to Kansei with hidden meaning in his words because I’m here. Kakeru desperately tried to think of a way to argue with him. But before he could gather his thoughts, Sakaki said, “See ya,” and went back to his teammates.

Why do I have a hard time coming up with words? If it was just running, then cheetahs and ostriches can also run. Doesn’t this mean that I’m on the same level as an animal? Kakeru was dejected, and then he felt frustrated. He was angry with himself for letting Sakaki go after letting him say whatever he liked.

“He’s a diligent guy, in a certain sense.” Yuki watched Sakaki go, looking impressed.

“Just the fact that Kakeru didn’t try to hit him is progress. Good job,” Kiyose said, his face still an iron mask.

That’s true, Kakeru thought. In the past, he wouldn't have let Sakaki get away with such needless meddling, but he had been so preoccupied with searching for words of rebuttal that he had forgotten that he could have hit him. It would have been quicker if I had punched him. Kakeru felt a growing sense of frustration as well as bewilderment at the change within himself.

I was trying to choose a non-violent approach.

He felt uneasy, like he had been defanged, but he was also a little happy because he felt like he was getting closer to Rikudou’s Fujioka.

“Don’t worry about it,” Kiyose told everyone. “Come on, we’re almost at Lake Ashi. Let’s go.”

Mount Fuji, as seen from the front, was crowned with pure white snow. The members of Chikusei-sou ran down the last slope to Lake Ashi in one go.

“Even though he tells us not to worry about it, we will.”

Kakeru didn’t miss Jouta’s mutter and Jouji’s nod.

Because of Sakaki’s words, the rifts in Chikusei-sou seemed to have become more apparent.

After resting a short while near the lake, they were ready to take on the return mountain descent. Even Kakeru was surprised.

“Aren’t we going to stay overnight?” he asked.

Kiyose answered, “Where would we find that kind of money?” Prince slowly retreated to the bus stop for Hakone-Yumoto.

Kiyose laughed and said, “Don’t worry, you don’t have to run, Prince. Mountain descents tend to cause injuries, so I’ll only ask the ones who might run the sixth leg to run. The rest of you can take the bus back to Hakone-Yumoto first.”

Kiyose designated the twins and Yuki.

“So does that mean it’s okay if my legs get injured?” Yuki didn’t seem convinced.

“You and the twins rode the Hakone Tozan Line from Oohiradai Station to Kowakidani Station, didn’t you? Did you really think you could do that behind my back?” Kiyose said. “You should have enough strength remaining to descend the mountain. And Yuki, your center of gravity is low and stable, probably because of your kendo background.”

Yuki shut his mouth. The twins were still whispering to each other.

“We’re tired, and now we have to run back too.”

“There’s no point in training this much.”

“Twins, if you have any comments, I’m all ears.”

The twins shook their heads in unison.

Kiyose was going to run down the mountain with the twins and Yuki. Kakeru was worried about his injured right leg.

“I’ll go, Haiji-san. You shouldn’t force yourself.”

“I’ll be going slow, so I’ll be fine. Look, the bus is here.”

At his urging, Kakeru got on the bus.

The bus got stuck in traffic in the Hakone mountains, and Yuki and the twins, who were running down the mountain, caught up with it. Even though he said he would go slowly, Kiyose was following the three perfectly as they ran down the mountain, seemingly giving them instructions and warnings.

Kakeru and the others watched the scene from the bus windows as they passed each other repeatedly.

“It might have been faster if we had just run,” Nico-chan muttered impatiently as the bus crawled forward.

“I’m never getting off,” Prince declared from the seat he had taken up residence in. Musa and Shindou observed Yuki running with a long stride down the steep incline.

“I see, if you do not have flexible hip joints, you will not be good at mountain descents.”

“In order to soften the impact of landing, you need flexible leg muscles and strength in your hips and knees.”

King was unusually silent, watching the running twins with a serious expression on his face. I see, Kakeru thought.

What’s the point of participating in the Hakone Ekiden if there’s nothing to connect to next? Sakaki had said. But that was wrong—running should be a pure act for oneself.

It was true that “for oneself” might extend to “for the team” in a long-distance relay race, where everyone aimed for the finish line while handing over the sash to each other. However, that was as far as it went.

In the end, it was you and your teammates who were running. The fate of the team after that wasn’t something to be considered while running the Hakone Ekiden.

The first people that came up with the idea of running a relay race between Tokyo and Hakone and put it into action—they must have done so because they loved running. There was no guarantee what would happen to the team, or if the race would be held in the same way the next year. Even so, they probably couldn’t help but start the Hakone Ekiden, because they dreamed of running. And they believed that those who shared their passion for running would continue it after them.

That was why the Hakone Ekiden was always open to all universities in the Kanto region. That made it different from the similarly traditional Tokyo Big6 Baseball League (2); since the race was not limited to specific universities, no matter which new school you were a student at, any runner who wished to participate in Hakone was given equal opportunity.

This was probably what Sakaki wanted to say: “At a powerhouse school, I devote myself to running with other members who are good runners. That is how to do sports and compete. That is the meaning of running.”

Sakaki isn’t always wrong in what he says. But it’s not the same for me; it's somewhat different from what I’m looking for, what I hope to find through running.

That’s fine, Kakeru thought. Being different isn’t bad. But it was a little sad. They used to run on the same team, and they were still looking in the same direction when it came to running, but there was a definite disconnect between him and Sakaki; it was difficult to deal with the fact that the conflict that had grown between them over the years was finally becoming clear.

Kakeru waited with everyone in the Hakone-Yumoto parking lot for Kiyose and the others to finish running. When everyone climbed into the van and departed for Chikusei-sou, it was already evening.

Inside the van, Kakeru spoke.

“When I was a kid, I used to watch the Hakone Ekiden on TV every New Year’s Day.”

“Oh, me too.” Shindou was bewildered by Kakeru suddenly talking, but he calmly responded.

“I always thought, ‘I want to run like that someday, too. I want to be in the Hakone Ekiden, too.’ I’m happy that my dream came true.”

Kakeru earnestly searched for the words, in order to convey them to everyone in the van with him. “That’s why, I think it’s fine not to think about what will happen to Kansei next year. Even if Haiji-san and the others graduate and there are no longer ten people on the team, it doesn’t mean that's the end. Maybe there will be a kid somewhere who sees us on TV and thinks running is cool, just like how I thought that when I was a kid. I think that’s pretty great.”

“Is that…” Prince spoke up. “...A Kakeru-style response to what that TSU first-year said to you earlier?”

“Yes.”

“That kind of thing means nothing if you don’t say it to him directly right then and there.” Nico-chan rubbed the stubble on his chin.

“Kakeru is too slow with everything but running. You have to train yourself to use your brain a little more.” Yuki’s cheek twitched.

“I’m sorry,” Kakeru apologized.

“But Kakeru has come a long way in being able to properly express his opinions.”

“That is right.”

Shindou and Musa kindly backed him up.

“You guys are complimenting him like he’s in kindergarten,” Jouta teased, and Kakeru felt his cheeks turning hot with shame. He always missed the timing on what he should say, and he was irritated and embarrassed at himself for that.

“But, Kakeru.” King poked his head forward from the seat behind him. “Aren’t you just glossing over the problem?”

“He’s right.” Jouji crossed his arms next to Kakeru. “It doesn’t matter how many little kids get into running, since it doesn’t have anything to do with us. Isn’t that pointless?”

You have a point, Kakeru was about to nod, but then hurriedly shook his head. Some part of him screamed, “No!”

“I think I continued because it was beautiful,” Kakeru said. “Because the running form is beautiful. That’s why the people who watch the Hakone Ekiden think, How wonderful, and support it and try their best to run as well.”

For the sake of the team, for the children watching the Hakone Ekiden on TV—and more than anything, running beautifully and powerfully for yourself; that was all he focused on.

“Kakeru really is stoic,” Jouji let out a sigh that could have been either amazement or surrender.

Kiyose wordlessly turned the steering wheel and the car pulled onto Odawara-Atsugi Road as night fell.

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#Kaze ga tsuyoku fuiteiru #kazetsuyo #kazetsuyo translations #run with the wind

[themedicalstate]

People Are Keeping Their Vaccines Secret

COVID-19 vaccinations have become a public spectacle, but they touch intensely private questions.

In the past three months, Americans have become collectively obsessed with shots of shots. Photos featuring the humble deltoid—that meaty muscle that swaddles the upper arm, newly famous as the injection site for all three currently cleared COVID-19 vaccines—have been flooding Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, and even Tinder. After a year of misery and chaos, they’re digital proof of the relief and elation that comes with boosted immunity; they’re a rallying cry for others, including those who might be wary, to join in. Individual vaccinations, normally an intimate affair, have become a public spectacle.

Yet for every immunization that sparks public joy, there’s perhaps another that blips silently by, shaded with guilt, frustration, or fear. Many of the recipients of these early jabs have chosen to hide them from even close friends and family—some of the people who stand to benefit the most from the protection that immunization affords.

Katherine Wu spoke with more than a dozen of these covert vaccinees last week; all asked to remain anonymous. (The Atlantic agreed to these requests because they involved personal health information.) The reasons behind the vaccinees’ reticence ran the gamut: Some worried that they would be accused of line hopping; others were wary of exposing the criteria that had qualified them. A weatherman in Florida wanted to avoid being prematurely called back to the office, because he’d miss out on quality time with his family. But they were united by what we might call shot self-consciousness—the worry about how their shots will be perceived by others.

Everyone Katherine Wu spoke with said they were grateful to get their shots when they did. They were glad to have the protection, and happy to help quash a pandemic that just hit its one-year anniversary. This week, the CDC officially granted a new suite of enviable privileges to vaccinees, allowing them to mix with one another indoors, without masks; previous guidelines had cleared them to skip postexposure quarantines.

This problem may be fleeting. In the United States, at least, the pace of vaccination has picked up, and some countries, including China, are pushing for mandatory disclosure of immunization status from travelers. But as long as vaccine demand continues to outstrip supply, the inoculated might hesitate to reveal their status and risk their eligibility being debated among those still waiting in the queue. The vaccination rollout has forced people to consider where they fall in each state’s prioritization scheme—a strange sort of government-sanctioned meritocracy—and to square that identity with their public image. The fear that those two metrics don’t match up is enough to drive many people into hiding, and many are unsure of when, or how, they’ll decide to emerge.

During the weeks following the first vaccine authorization, when nearly all of the shots were given to health workers and nursing-home residents, eligibility was, for better or worse, simple to profile. But since then, states have splintered over whom to prioritize next. Some, such as Montana, have explicitly called communities of color to the fore; others, such as California, have focused on reaching essential workers. Although America’s oldest residents are now eligible for their shots, age floors differ across county lines; states also disagree on which preexisting medical conditions are most urgent to address. People who are green-lit for a jab in one place might be booted out of line in another.

The mixed messaging has made official priorities difficult to discern. When a friend in Montana was told that she was eligible for a vaccine, “I thought it was a glitch at first,” she told me. “I still feel I can’t trust anyone to tell me that [it’s] my turn.”

A lot of the conditions that now qualify people aren’t easily identifiable. Scrubs or white coats no longer demarcate eligible professions in photos; many of the newest shot recipients are young. When eligibility becomes a patchwork, people have an easier time tugging at the seams: Every week, more stories surface of people who have been accused of stealing or sequestering vaccines, or faking their eligibility to filch a dose. “People are asking suspiciously, ‘Well, how did that person get it?’” says Nita Farahany, a bioethicist at Duke University. As others anxiously await their turn, the inoculated have felt pressured to share not just whether they were immunized, but why.

Cynthia Cochran Leyva, a 64-year-old attorney in Columbia, Missouri, did announce on Facebook that she had received her first shot at the end of January. She was surprised and saddened, she told me, when a longtime friend questioned her eligibility.

After a series of online exchanges, Leyva said, “I realized, Oh my God, she thinks I jumped the line.” At the time, Leyva’s daughter, who lives in Arizona, was very close to giving birth to her second son. Her friend seemed to imply that Leyva had manipulated her way into the vaccine line to expedite meeting her grandchild. In reality, Leyva had qualified for the inoculation because of her type 2 diabetes, which has been linked to a higher risk of developing severe COVID-19. Her friend, she told me, hadn’t been aware of her condition.

“It really took me aback,” Leyva said. She had expected only support—with perhaps a touch of good-natured jealousy—when she posted her photo. “I just thought of it as an exciting thing in my life, after a year of hard things,” she told me. Shaken by the tussle with her friend, Leyva kept the news of her second dose to herself.

There’s a special kind of survivor’s guilt that comes with lucking into a vaccine—getting a dose that would have been thrown away without a willing and available arm. One such arm belongs to a writer Katherine Wu spoke with in Wisconsin, who was offered an extra dose from a workplace health center after nearly all of her colleagues had gotten their shot. She jumped at the opportunity, knowing that the dose would otherwise go to waste. “I didn’t take a vaccine from someone else who needed it more,” she said. “But I did accept a vaccine before others who needed it more had the chance.”

Disclosures aren’t just about bragging rights, or sexing up a Tinder profile. Personal narratives of individual vaccinations can help sway the hesitant and uncertain, especially in communities of color that have been repeatedly disenfranchised, ignored, and abused by the medical system. “Some of us felt a calling in this moment,” Utibe Essien, a physician and health-equity researcher at the University of Pittsburgh, told me. “We knew how important it was to get it out there, that these vaccines are safe and effective.” Even the weeks-late announcement of President Donald Trump’s January vaccination might persuade some reluctant white Republicans, a group in which vaccine distrust is particularly high, to sign up for their shots.

But for some people, disclosing their vaccination status means openly acknowledging the health condition that qualified them in the first place. Several of the conditions that check an eligibility box carry immense social baggage. A New Jersey scientist told Katherine Wu she was eager to extol the virtues of vaccination, but embarrassed to admit that she got the shot because of her high BMI. Leyva, the Missouri lawyer, said she’s hesitated to discuss her diagnosis of diabetes, a condition that often invites judgment about the lifestyle choices of those it afflicts.

Katherine Wu spoke with an attorney in New York whose parents have gotten their shots. He, too, will soon be fully vaccinated, and be able to visit them with substantially less risk. But almost no one in his life knows that he has received the jab. He qualified because he has HIV—a condition that he’s concealed from most of the people in his life, including his mother and father. “As a member of the gay community, I think there’s already enough stigma associated with HIV,” he said. “I don’t feel like cluing people in to the fact that I deal with that.” He’ll tell his parents that he’s been vaccinated, he said, when more people in his age group have gotten their jabs.

Ruth Faden, a bioethicist at Johns Hopkins University, told Katherine Wu that some of the calls for vaccine justifications trouble her. National prioritization plans have set up a strange and uneven hierarchy of protection; the people immunized first have been alternately hailed as heroes and pitied as society’s most fragile. To be vaccinated mid-rollout is to be saddled with a public identifier, and an invitation for the world to vet it. It’s a harrowing form of eligibility warfare. Faden, who herself has a disability that sometimes makes walking difficult, notes that not all medical conditions are readily visible. She said that she was once berated after parking in a handicapped space, by a woman who accused her of using someone else’s plates. Faden gently corrected her: “I told her I had a problem that you just can’t see all the time.”

None of the experts Katherine Wu spoke with thought that people should be duty-bound to share their immunization status. “I don’t think there’s any moral obligation for that,” Carleigh Krubiner, a policy fellow at the Center for Global Development, told me.

But more questions about immunization status are headed our way. Employers, airlines, even entire countries have already begun to explore the notion of tracking people’s shots; eventually, these check-ins could balloon into “vaccine passports” that would green-light certain people to reenter workplaces or board airplanes. The general idea isn’t unprecedented; schools, for instance, have long requested the vaccine records of their students. But because vaccination rates continue to lag in vulnerable communities, any system of perks available only to the vaccinated will inevitably worsen the socioeconomic, racial, and ethnic inequities laid bare by the pandemic, says Grace Lee, a pediatrician and vaccine expert at Stanford University. “Access and acceptability have to be solved first,” Lee told me.

Vaccine scrutiny will eventually ebb, Faden predicted. “We’re in a transient period,” she said. “There will be less angsting over who’s eligible as supply increases.” Perhaps by then the true purpose of the rollout will be a little clearer: Although we’ve treated them like personal luxuries such as concert tickets or limited-edition sneakers, each shot that makes it into an arm benefits everyone else who’s still in line.

As winter melts into spring, once-shy vaccinees might start to reveal themselves. Several people told Katherine Wu that they would make a quiet announcement as soon as their age group or profession has been called to the queue. There’s no playbook for retroactively divulging the timing of a shot. “How do we come out and say, ‘Oh, we got vaccinated in January’? That’s awkward,” a writer in Colorado, who was able to nab a spare vaccine through her mother’s retirement community, told me.

Still, nearly everyone Katherine Wu spoke with said they would eventually share the good news. At some point along the march to a protected majority, they will unveil themselves as vaccinated—not as outliers, but as one of hundreds of millions.

By Katherine Wu (The Atlantic). Image: GETTY/ADAM MAIDA /THE ATLANTIC.

#science #medicine #vaccinations #health #public health #medblr #academia

[e350tb]

The Owl House: A Blight on Gravesfield (Chapter One)

One

An uninvited guest arrives at the Noceda residence.

Right, settle down everyone, time for a history lesson.

No, no, please save the questions for the end of the class.

At the beginning of the seventeenth century, English settlers - note the terminology there, English, not British, the Act of Union doesn’t happen for another hundred years. Anyway, English settlers started to cross the Atlantic in earnest to colonise what we now call the eastern seaboard of the United States. While Englishmen liked to claim they weren’t motivated by the same ‘base’ desires as the Spaniards in Central and South America, generally speaking, colonists were motivated by the same three things as the conquistadors.

There’s our key words - glory, God and gold.

Not literally gold - the hopes of gold nuggets on shores of Virginia didn’t bear fruit - but commodities. Beaver pelts and tobacco, things you couldn’t get in Europe at the time. The trade in rare goods and eventually humanity would enrich both colonists and their backers for the next two hundred years. They also served as breeding grounds for religious dissent.

Ah, dissenters. We’ll come back to them, because they’re much more interesting than they sound. 

By the 1630s, the colonies in Virginia and Massachusetts are fairly well established, and people are spreading out in search of more land. If you’re a settler in Massachusetts and you want to find a new patch of land away from everyone else, well, Connecticut’s right there.

There’s a lot of debate over which town is the oldest in Connecticut - traditionally, it’s Wethersfield. But a few academics have argued that that laurel belongs to a different township - the one in which we are gathered today.

Which brings us to 1635, and the establishment of Gravesfield by ten men who had wandered over from the Colony of Massachusetts Bay. Perhaps no town in the state has as much weird colonial lore as us.

And how much of it is true?

Well, that’s for historians to work out…

 - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

It all began on a dark and grey autumn day.

When something happens in a small town like Gravesfield, it gets everyone’s attention. About two weeks ago, for example, the curator of the local historical society had been arrested, fined and fired for trespassing, and it was still the talk of the town. They whispered about it in the cafes, shared articles in the offices, and presented wild, unsubstantiated theories about it on local talk radio.

“So you’re saying that we can’t trust historians?”

A few drops of rain rapped against the window - it was one of those days where it doesn’t rain, but it gusts heavily, and droplets are caught in the wind. The kitchen was dark; light shadows danced on the wall, and the illuminated numbers on the microwave seemed almost brilliant in the gloom. It very much matched the mood.

“Look, Kerry, I’m not sayin’ all historians are bad, but you gotta listen to some o’ these people; the things they say about Jefferson n’ Washington n’ all them folks. They get their kicks on bein’ right and tearin’ people down, this Hopkins fella probably wanted to prove something, and…”

Over the dim sound of the radio, one could hear the clock; tick, tick, tick, tick. Occasionally it was drowned out as a gust rattled the windows and doors, but the sound always returned, constant and ever present - tick, tick, tick, tick.

Time. Ever ticking, ever moment. Every moment, a moment stolen.

“And that was Marvin from Bridge Street. We’ll come back to that, but first the news on the hour. Brad?”

On the bench, next to the phone, stood a small picture frame, the glass slightly illuminated in the stormy afternoon light. To all the world, it showed a typical family - a man, a woman and a little girl. The man’s face was obscured by the light, but one could see the clear similarities in the faces of the mother and daughter.

Those that were here. Those that were now gone.

“The Los Angeles Police Department has announced an amber alert that was put into place several months ago has been withdrawn. In defiance of all expectations, a teenager, whose family has asked for anonymity, returned home over the weekend; two other missing girls, whose cases were connected to the teenager, remain missing at this-”

Camila Noceda turned off the radio.

She sat at the kitchen table, staring at the clock. It had been a long day. It had been a long few weeks.

Unlike those engaging in baseless speculation about the case of Jacob Hopkins, Camila knew exactly what had happened to the previously respected amateur historian. She could even tell you who the mysterious assailant who had beaten him up and left him for the police was; it was her.

She was quite happy to remain anonymous, too. She didn’t want any laurels, any radio interviews, anything like that. She didn’t want to be reminded of that day.

Not while Luz remained separated from her.

Everything about the situation boggled her mind. The Boiling Isles, the Owl House, Emperor Belos - they sounded like fantasy; even she’d thought they were fantasy to begin with. But the idea that they were real, and that her daughter was in such a dangerous world - willingly, no less - was absolutely terrifying.

The same words ran through her head, day in and day out.

“Staying here was the best decision I ever made…”

Had she really been that bad of a mother?

There was a strange thumping noise outside. For a moment, Camila ignored it, but then it came again, louder this time. 

THUMP. THUMP. THUMP.

It was like something was trying to break through a door.

Camila shot up - was it Vee? No, she was at school (where everyone still believed she was Luz - Camila swallowed the thought.) Was an animal trapped under the house - or had Hopkins started trapping them again? If he was, she was going to make their last encounter feel positively…

BANG!

Camila jumped. It was definitely coming from the front yard - this time it sounded a bit like a car backfiring, but much louder and much closer. The thumps were getting more frequent too, almost like a heartbeat - thump-thump thump-thump thump-thump!

She looked out the window.

There was… something swirling and morphing on the front lawn, trying and failing to manifest into a single unified shape. She could just about see the frame of a door, and a swirling landscape of… nothing behind. It almost hurt her eyes to look at. Yet she could just about swear she could see a silhouette through the shifting, swirling frame.

Luz!

She raced to the front door and threw it open, just in time for the door frame to settle - only a little, as the edges still twirled and twitched like a heart in cardiac arrest. The figure stepped forward, and Camila realised there was another held in her arms.

She stepped into the light, and Camila’s heart skipped a beat.

The figure was about Luz’ age, she reckoned - her hair was a bright purple, with edges of brown, and she wore what looked almost like a robe with purple sleeves and pants. Her eyes were a hazel brown, and her skin was pale - but more remarkable were her pointed ears.

And yet Camilia’s eyes focused on the limp form in her arms, her brown hair messy, her tan skin covered in cuts and bruises, and her breathing heavy and laboured.

The other girl spoke, her voice shaking.

“Are you Luz’s mom?”

Camila’s hands covered her mouth.

“Luz,” she whispered.

She was running before she knew it, sprinting over to the limp form of her daughter. She barely heard the other girl; she seemed to be babbling.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! Emperor Belos, the golden guard, they-they came without warning a-a-and this was the only thing I could think of! Sh-she needs help but I don’t know…”

Camila took her from the girl’s arms, swiftly placing a finger on Luz’s wrist - a pulse, even and regular, if a bit shallow. Good sign, but she needed to get inside. She could go to pieces later; right now Luz needed her.

“It’s okay, mija, mami’s here,” she whispered. “We need to get you inside, come on…”

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I didn’t know how to…”

Camila looked back at the girl as she turned to run inside.

“You can tell me about it later,” she said. “We need to lie her down.”

She raced inside - she thought she heard the girl sprinting after her - and ran into the living room, laying Luz down on the couch. Quickly she checked her temperature - seemed okay, but her skin was a little clammy. More important were the cuts and bruises. She needed bandages, and probably a hospital. She needed to call an ambulance, now, and…

“M-Ms. Noceda?”

The girl had arrived behind her - she took a deep breath, trying to calm herself down.

“Can… can I try something?”

Camila opened her mouth to reply - what could she do? Luz needed a doctor! She needed a hospital, she needed…

Slowly, the girl stepped forward, standing over Luz’s unconscious form.

“Lilith said I wasn’t supposed to use this unless it was an emergency,” she said, “but I think this is an emergency, so…”

She touched her forehead to Luz’.

“With this spell declared… let the pain be shared.”

Camila stepped back, eyes wide, as both Luz and the girl glowed blue. The light intensified, and for a moment, she had to shield her eyes.

When she regained her vision, the girl was slumped next to the couch, sweating and breathing a little heavily; but Luz looked noticeably healthier, and many of the worst cuts and bruises were gone.

“What…”

“I shared the pain,” the girl said woosily.

“I… you could’ve hurt yourself!” exclaimed Camila. “Y-you have hurt yourself! I…”

“Yeah?” The girl chuckled humourlessly. “It’s worth it… as long as Luz is okay.”

CRASH! BANG! THUD-THUD-THUD-THUD!

Camila jumped and turned around. Outside the door, she could just about see the magical doorway violently twitch and swirl, thrashing like a trapped, wounded animal. For a moment, it seemed almost to be in a state of rage, as if it would lunge at Camila in a last, desperate effort; for help or to main, she could not say.

Then there was a loud pop, and it was gone. It was as if it had never been there.

“Your… portal?” Camila said, her throat dry. “It’s gone.”

“I…” The girl had hobbled to her feet and was gazing outside to where the door had been. She swayed on her feet.

“Oh,” she said softly. “Oh, Titan.”

Like a puppet with its strings cut, she swayed and dropped to the floor.

Camila looked down at the two unconscious girls; she mopped her brow, forcing herself not to panic or cry. She needed to keep herself together, to make sure Luz and her - friend, maybe? - were okay. Then she could cry all she liked.

There was a knock, and Camila turned back to the door. There was another girl, one eerily similar to Luz, standing there - she looked deeply confused.

“Camila?” she asked. “I-is everything okay?”

Camila swallowed, wondering how she was going to explain any of this.

#the owl house #luz noceda #amity blight #camila noceda #vee #fanfiction #writing #a blight on gravesfield

[moon-in-daylight]

Jealousy / Dhawan!Master x reader

Summary: When Missy died, you thought it would be a good idea to travel with The Doctor to keep yourself busy and your thoughts away from the one you had lost. Now that you encounter The Master’s new incarnation, you have a decision to make, and The Master a few questions for you.

Words: 3116

Warnings: Jealousy, teasing, dirty talk? (Nothing too graphic. In fact, it’s not really dirty, let’s say suggestive instead)

A/N: So I’ve been out of inspiration for a week or two but I finally got myself to write something. I’ve not edited this so probably it has some mistakes, sorry for that.

The moment you saw the humanoid-shaped aliens hover over The Master, you quickly took a step forward and tried to grab his hand. You knew it was a stupid thing to do, considering that he was probably mad at you for helping The Doctor and blowing his plan of destroying humanity. You were fighting on opposite sides now, but that would never stop you from try and helping him if needed it. Yet, deep down you knew your little act of bravery was useless. It was obvious that you couldn’t prevent the Kasaavin from taking him, and by touching him you would only be giving the light-made aliens the chance of trapping you in their parallel universe as well, putting you in unnecessary and senseless danger. Not that you really thought or care about your well-being in that moment. You weren’t thinking rationally as you extended your arm towards him, as you tried to make sure he knew you were still by his side. Truth was, you hadn’t been thinking straight at all that day. Not since you had discovered O’s true identity.

All that mattered to you in that precise second was to help The Master, even if it was only by grabbing his hand and showing him your support and affection. After all the time you had been apart, and just by seeing the painful look in his eyes after being stuck on Earth for 77 years, it was clear that he needed it more than ever. It was painful to think about all the time he had spent alone, to think about all those nights that you had spent mourning him while he still was alive. Now that he was in front of you, you weren’t planning on letting him go again.

But before your fingers could reach his, you felt yourself being pushed back by a sudden grip on your wrist. After watching the Time Lord disappear in front of you with a blinding flash of white light, you turned to The Doctor, whose hand held you tight in place.

“Let me go!” You struggled to let yourself free, willing to throw yourself to the Kasaavin in hopes of getting reunited with The Master. Chances were you wouldn't even end up in the same place he was sent to, but you were willing to take that and any other risk now that you had the chance of getting him back.

“Y/N, what are you doing?” The astonished voice of Yaz called your name.

None of the other companions knew the history between you and The Master. You had never trusted any of them enough to tell them your backstory, and since Missy had died long ago, you had never thought it would be necessary for them to know any of it. After O’s reveal in the plane, you supposed it would have been the time to mention something to them, but after giving it a little thought, you finally decided it was best for them not to know about your feelings for him. The last thing you wanted was to create an uncomfortable ambient between you and the rest of the group because of your little ‘conflict of interests’.

None of that mattered the slightest now. You had the chance of going back to him and you no longer cared about what they thought of the fact that you were in love with The Doctor’s best enemy.

“How could you?!” You ignored everyone else in the room as you looked at The Doctor in the eye, your features showing nothing but hatred and frustration. “You told me Missy died!”

“I did believe she was dead.” She assured you under the confused looks of the rest. You gave her a suspicious look, not being sure if you could trust her anymore. “Y/N, I would have never told you that if I hadn’t believed it was true.”

You felt tears forming in your eyes as you remembered how The Doctor’s past regeneration had brought you the news that had shattered your entire life. You hadn’t been with Missy more than a few months, not as much as you would have liked to, anyway. It had been a short but intense time, traveling in her TARDIS and assisting her in any other mischief she planned.

Chaotic, fun and passionate… But ephemeral. That’s what your relationship had been like, what you still hoped you could get back.

You had spent more time apart than together now, but you remembered how special the bond between the two of you were. How it had taken so little time and effort to make her a very important part of your life, if not the most.

When she was taken away from you, you felt like a part of you had died with her too.

You felt deeply lost, trying to picture what the rest of your life was going to be without her. You supposed you had no option but resign yourself to go back to Earth, grieve her and then try and keep on with your life. You weren’t sure you could get over her, especially on your own, but then the past incarnation of The Doctor offered you a place in his TARDIS. It wasn’t ideal, but it was best than staying home crying all day. And, even though you had a rough time adjusting to the companions that came and went and to the way she managed certain situations, you had eventually learned to travel with her. More than that, you were even starting to enjoy it.

You were quite fond of her at this point, but not enough to choose to stay with her if you had the chance to go back with The Master.

“Let me go to him.” You insisted, looking at the aliens that remained in the room. They were disappearing one by one, and with them your only chance of finding him again.

“Y/N…” The Doctor stared at you in disbelief when she understood what you were still planning to do, realizing how desperate you truly were. She had figured when The Master had revealed himself that it would affect you somehow, but not until the point of sacrificing yourself for him. Now, she realized that you were not over Missy at all. “You’re taking a step into the unknown. It’s not safe to-”

“I don’t care about safety!” You quickly cut her off. “I wouldn’t be doing this if you hadn’t let them take him!”

“Y/N, he’s not the person you once knew.” She warned you, repeating your name once again to try and make you see reason. “This incarnation may be previous to Missy. He may not even know you yet… And even if she survived and regenerated into him, it only means he decided to never come back for you. He may not feel the same for you anymore.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat as you took into consideration The Doctor’s words.

No, he wasn’t previous to Missy. You could tell by how he had looked at you, by the way his eyes had lingered on you more than necessary when introducing yourselves, by his incessant attempts to get closer to you while still being undercover as O. He had been especially interested in you since the first moment, taking any chance he could to go talk to you and showing a particular interest about the nature of your relationship with The Doctor. You had first mistaken those signs as an effort of innocent flirting by the shy agent, but knowing his true identity also exposed his true intentions. He was trying to find out how you had ended up in her oldest enemy’s TARDIS.

He did know you, but then again, The Doctor did have a point when she said he might not feel the same for you anymore. At least, that would explain why he had practically ignored you since his reveal, leaving you to die with the rest on the plane crash. If he still wanted you by his side, he would have rescued you from that situation and taken you with him, wouldn’t he?

Maybe he thought you had betrayed him by travelling with The Doctor, or maybe he just had gotten over you already.

“Nothing changes what I feel for him.” You clarified, finally letting yourself free from her grip. Taking a deep breathe, you organized the ideas running through your mind, focusing only on one particular feeling. “I love him. I always have. I’m going to stay by his side because that’s how I feel and nothing in this universe will make me change my mind. I don’t care if he doesn’t recognize me or if he doesn’t love me back anymore… That doesn’t change anything.”

“Please don’t do anything stupid…” Your friend unsuccessfully attempted to stop you once more. You could see desperation in her eyes as she tried to talk sense into you, to make you stay safely by her side. She meant well, but both of you knew it was useless to try to dissuade you. “He would never do the same for you!”

“I know.” You sighed, giving a final look at The Doctor and her companions. This was your goodbye. “Still don’t care.”

Before The Doctor or any of the others could say anything else, you rushed yourself to one of the few remaining Kasaavin, reaching your hand to the creature and fading away in a white light explosion.

When you opened your eyes again, you found yourself in an unknown, hostile place. It was the Kasaavin’s dimension. Judging by Yaz's reaction of when she had come back from there, you had supposed it wasn't going to be a friendly place, but you had pictured something very different in your head. You had imagined that place to be full of blinding white lights, but it was way colder and darker than you would have figured just by looking at the aliens who resided there.

The first thing you noticed were the wire-like structures that ran sparks of light through them. There were thousands- No, millions of them around. They slightly reminded you of trees, they were all around and each of them looked exactly the same. There was no way of developing any sense of orientation there. It almost felt like you were in the middle of a forest at night, lost and having no idea on where to go.

You had to admit that throwing yourself into an unknown dimension without any plan or guarantee of getting out hadn’t been your brightest idea.

Just when you were beginning to regret your impulsiveness, you heard a frustrated scream and, recognizing the source of the sound, you rushed in the direction where it had come from. You didn’t quite know this regeneration of The Master yet and his voice still sounded a bit unfamiliar, but you recognized his characteristic exasperation of when something didn't come out as planned in his shout. It had to be him. Plus, who else could be trapped there besides you and him?

Luckily, you found The Master standing not far from where you had landed, his back facing you as he didn’t seem to notice your presence. You tried to calm your breathing before getting closer to him, trying to figure out what to say to him. After losing Missy, you never thought you would have this opportunity. Him, standing in front of you in the middle of such a strange place felt like something come out of a daydream. For a second you even considered the possibility that everything was only happening in your sleep, and you feared that you would suddenly wake up alone in your bed or that he would fade away before your eyes.

Before you could find the courage to say something, he turned to you.

“What are you doing here?” His eyes observed you with surprise and curiosity during a few seconds. That confusion turned itself into bitterness with his second question. “Don’t you travel with The Doctor now?”

“Well, you know me-“ You tried to act smooth, but you were sure he could sense the nervousness in your voice. “I can’t help myself when it comes to helping a damsel in distress.”

Seeing him chuckle at your little remark helped calm you down. He definitely was the same person you had fell in love with, only different. You had never understood what that meant when Missy tried to explain you the regeneration process, but seeing The Doctor change had helped you comprehend the concept. And now, looking at this new incarnation of him, you were completely sure that, even though he looked different, nothing had really changed.

“Not a damsel anymore, love.” He pointed out as he stepped closer to you. Well, almost nothing had changed. “Is that of any inconvenience for you?”

“As long as we’re still getting in distress…” You softly shook your head, a smile spreading across your face when you watched his smirk getting wider.

“Oh, we’re going to.” His preying eyes examined your body with amusement, sending a shiver down your spine when you realized how he had perceived your initially innocent comment. “I can assure you that.”

“You’re going to need to catch me up on a few things first.” You did your best to hide your increasing blushing as he got even closer to you, invading your personal space and barely giving you room to breathe. Trying not to get distracted by his proximity, you looked at him in the eye. “The Doctor told me you died.”

The Master sighed and took a step back when you pronounced his childhood’s friend’s name, as if he was repealed by it. It was no secret that he wasn’t her biggest fan, but as he backed away you saw something in his eyes you couldn’t quite decode, something different from his usual hatred.

“I was left to die alone.” He clarified. The resentment in his voice more than obvious as he spoke, and hearing him say those words did nothing but break your heart. Trying to show him that you were there with him, you carefully caressed the side of his face. It was strange to feel the light stubble against your skin, but you kind of liked how it looked on him. Softening under your touch, he let out another sigh, a more relaxed one. “Almost had to regenerate twice. That damn corset.”

“I liked that old thing though. It looked good on you.” You complimented him, trying to lighten up the mood a bit.

“It looked good on you too.” The Master’s eyes left your face to look down at your body, his stare tracing the curves and edges of your body as he remembered the several times you had stolen his clothes and walked around his TARDIS wearing them. That memory brought a sincere smile to his face. “We had some good times, didn’t we?”

“The best of times.” You nodded your head in agreement, a little smile forming on your face as well.

“Oh, but I’m sure you had a great time with The Doctor too…” The Master’s face suddenly got dark, the smirk disappearing from his face as he looked away from you. His harsh tone confused you for a second, trying to understand what was going on inside his mind and the reason behind his sudden change of mood. He surely was an emotional rollercoaster. “You seemed to be having so much fun playing spies with her…”

When you finally interlocked your stare with his you understood why the innuendo on his voice.

He was jealous.

“Did you?” He inquired as he stepped closer to you again, his hot breathing hitting your face. “Did you have fun with her?”

“I only agreed to travel with her because I couldn’t stand being on my own without you.” You tried to justify yourself, feeling your knees weakening under his cold stare.

“That’s not what I am asking.” His voice was rough as his eyes shifted through your face. “You seemed close to her… Did you feel anything for her?”

“Of course not.” You quickly assured, but it didn’t seem to be enough for him. Placing both of his hands on each side of your hips, he pushed you against one of the wires, his weigh pinning you against the alien structure.

“Did you think she could make you forget about me?”

He ran his tongue through his lips, making your body squirm slightly and your breathing unsettle. You shook your head as he got even closer to you.

“Did you think she could make you feel the way I make you feel?”

You shivered as his hands slipped down your shirt and caressed the skin of your lower back. Closing your eyes, you tried to steady your breathing. It had been years since you had felt his touch, the way his fingers slowly explored your body. That simple gesture was all he had to do to have you at his complete and utter mercy. And he knew.

“That she could ever make you this desperate for her?”

“No…” You mumbled under your breathe.

With a proud smile he lent closer to you, his lips gently brushing the skin of your neck as the harsh but pleasant feeling of his stubble against you sent goosebumps all over that area. Stopping himself right next to your ear, he left a soft kiss on your neck before whispering.

“Have you forgotten who your Master is?”

You shook your head again, but he didn’t seem pleased with your answer.

“Say it out loud.”

“Only my Master could make me feel this good.” You muttered as you still felt the tip of his fingers roaming through your body, his breathing against the particularly sensitive skin of your neck. “No one else could.”

You supposed he was satisfied with your answer this time when he took a step back to smash his lips with yours.

He was even more passionate than you remembered, his mouth moving eagerly against yours as his arms wrapped around your waist trying to bring you impossibly closer to him, as if he was afraid of letting you go again. Your whole body trembled as you tried to keep his pace, placing one of your hands on his shoulder for support as the other caressed the side of his face gently.

“Good thing you still know who you belong to.” He smirked as he stepped away from you, your body immediately missing the warmth of his touch. “Now, let’s find a way to get out of here so I can show you just how much I’ve missed you.”

#Dhawan!Master x reader #Dhawan Master x reader #Dhawan!Master/reader #Dhawan Master/reader #Dhawan!Master one shot #Dhawan Master one shot #Dhawan!Master imagine #Dhawan Master imagine #Dhawan!Master x you #Dhawan Master x you #Dhawan!Master/you #Dhawan Master/you #Doctor Who #Doctor Who fanfic #Doctor Who one shot #Doctor Who imagine #Dhawan!Master fanfic #Dhawan Master fanfic #The Master #The Master imagine #The Master one shot #The Master x you #The Master x reader #Sacha Dhawan #Sacha Dhawan x reader #Sacha Dhawan x you