#but there's def more than 10 in each baggie

[torra-and-the-toons]

They arrived!!!

Once I figure out how tf I'm going to do this, I'll post a link to buy them

[stcrr]

elle fanning. cis female. she/her.  ／  lorelei “lorrie” gunther just pulled up blasting which witch by florence + the machine  — that song is so them ! you know, for a twenty-three year old musician, i’ve heard they’re really -reclusive, but that they make up for it by being so +observant. if i had to choose three things to describe them, i’d probably say chipped glitter nail polish, a silver gilt mirror, losing yourself in the beat of the music. here’s to hoping they don’t cause too much trouble ! ( ally, 22, est, she/her )

me: i don’t have a type when it comes to muses! also me: unveils this new muse that is also introverted and anxious but this time with more glitter. anyways, meet lorelei, starr to her fans, and lorrie to her friends, an observant girl, gifted mimic, misfit, mirror, and musician. kind of a jem and the holograms/hannah montana/perfect blue hybrid. details under the cut, like for me to hyu to plot !! 

(also her pinterest im really proud of it you guys)

statistics.

full name. lorelei amelia gunther. nicknames. lorrie. aliases. starr. occupation. singer-songwriter. age. twenty-three. date of birth. february 1st, 1997.  nationality. american. ethnicity. white (austrian and irish).  gender | orientation. cis female | queer. hometown. boston, ma. zodiac sign. aquarius sun, scorpio moon, pisces rising career/voice claim. lorde.

height. 5′9 weight. 120lbs build. willowy.  distinguishing features. wide eyes, full lips, constant bags, probably has glitter in her hair.  health. 7/10; has no major illnesses but eats like shit, has a whack sleep schedule, is a dysfunctional adult basically. she’s also big depressed but you know how it be. 

positive traits. ambitious, intuitive, observant, imaginative, independent,  neutral traits. talkative, intense, impressionable,  negative traits. anxious, avoidant, moody, secretive, resentful, aloof, 

likes. the nighttime, storms, baggy clothes, mountains, weed, lsd, books, blanket forts, lying on the floor, singing, cryptids, cemeteries,  dislikes. being herself, deadlines, dolls/puppets, the paparazzi, social media, planning ahead, the outdoors, conflict, the beach, 

history. 

(tw suicide mention, anxiety attack) (tldr at the bottom)

her mother called her lorelei after the sirens of the rhine; she insisted her first cries were the sweetest song. and lorelei continued to have a beautiful voice; she sang more than she spoke. but only at home. 

she never responded to lorelei, though, not really; it felt too grand for her. she was a chicken-legged girl who liked overalls and goosebumps books. she was just lorrie.

she grew up in a lower-middle class region of boston, ma. her father was a salesman, and her mother was a travel agent. 

for a while, at school, she didn’t speak at all. she was diagnosed with selective mutism at age five, and it took until she was thirteen to overcome it completely. 

this was not at all helped by the fact that her parents had a nasty divorce when she was seven years old. her father used her mother’s ten-year-old suicide attempt against her in court to prove she wasn’t stable, and gained full custody of lorelei and her two older brothers. her oldest brother, matthias, sided with their father, but the middle brother, jeremias, sided with their mom, and tried to run away to his mother’s house basically every month. he ran away for good when he was fifteen, living with his girlfriend’s family. 

what helped her overcome this selective mutism, at least at first, was her middle school drama class. at home, lorelei had always been an excellent mimic. she did her favorite impressions for her drama teacher, and she encouraged her to try some monologues and scenes. as she got better at acting, she realized that she didn’t have to be herself; she could be somebody else. and that made talking all the easier. 

by high school, she was no longer selectively mute, but was still anxious and shy. she was, however, a total drama kid, and still loved to act. she could be outrageous, incredible on stage; she wasn’t being herself, after all, so if people were judging her, it was the character they were judging, not her. 

still she was def the kind of girl who had a mental breakdown every four months and dyed/cut her hair/gave herself bangs. she could never quite shake the feeling that she was an outsider looking in, separated, different. 

she still loved music, and as she grew older, she started to write songs. it was her secret dream to be a musician. one of her theater friends talked her into singing one of them when she was sixteen, and then encouraged her to try out for the talent show. she was able to get through the audition, though she was a little nervous, but she knew it would be fine. she was on stage all the time, this would be fine. 

but this time, she had to be herself in front of the entire school, and she froze up, not a sound leaving her lips. she doesn’t remember leaving the stage; only remembers that suddenly, she was in the girls bathroom, sobbing her eyes out. 

her friends comforted her that night, partying in their basement like they always did, but thats when lorrie had an idea. what if she didn’t perform as herself? 

that’s when a starr was born. 

as lorelei dressed herself up in all the holo and glitter she had, she created starr in her head; she was born beloved, charismatic, fearless, this glitz and glamor girl who had it all, but what now? even at the top, she found emptiness. she was a beautiful supernova, so breathtaking you forgot she was really a collapsing star. 

starr was lorrie’s ultimate muse; she wrote song after song for her in the next few months, until, finally, she asked some of her friends to help her record a music video. she didn’t expect this music video to get 60 million views in a matter of weeks. 

royals, of course, blew the fuck up, and she had people calling her house to get her to sign with this record company or that record company, and her eventual producer flew her out to la with her dad. and, of course, the rest is history. (her dad also blew a lot of the money she earned as a minor but she got rid of him and that’s neither here nor there.) 

however, as she got more and more into the la lifestyle, she began to rely more and more on starr as an alter ego. people liked starr, after all, and lorrie didn’t even like herself. she played the part of the dignified, wise, and eccentric former queen during interviews, when recording, at after parties and award shows. 

even her first major relationship she got while acting like starr, someone fearless and fun, basically a manic pixie dream girl. if you’ve ever listened to the album melodrama, then you know how badly that ended. 

that’s around when she realized that starr had taken over her entire life. coming home from a house party absolutely zonked, she looked in the mirror and didn’t recognize herself, didn’t see that nerdy, overall-clad chicken-legged girl from her family pictures. 

she stripped her clothes off, scraped the makeup off her face until her skin was red and dry, dragged a brush through her hair to get rid of all the product, and pulled on a hoodie and leggings she had brought with her to la a year ago. she wrote the first draft of all the songs in melodrama in the coming hours. 

however, she still wrote from starr’s perspective, knew she’d perform it as starr. it may be far more personal, but lorrie wasn’t ready to come out just yet. in fact, she’s kind of been hiding the last year or so, a full-on depression mess. 

tl;dr lower middle class nerdy girl from boston overcomes crippling social anxiety through acting, finesses this into an alter ego to be a musician, hits it big, loses herself in the alter ego, has a disastrous relationship, and tries to become herself again. 

present.

first of all, her real name is Known to the public, but not her “brand” outside of starr. it’s proven to be a boon as of late; she’s known for basically being a walking sailor moon cosplayer, not a skinny woman in baggy jeans and a big black hoodie.

since she’s trying to work on herself, she’s kind of in a creative slump. like, she still has more than enough royalties off her music to keep her going, but her agent and producer are both pushing her to clean up some of her songs and record them for a new album. she can still write as starr, but it feels... different, now. melodrama was far more personal than pure heroine, and she wants to continue to grow; writing as starr feels like reverting back to her sixteen year old self. but she’s too scared to write as herself So....

at events though she’s still in the gauze and stars people expect from starr. 

trying to reach out to her mom and brother jer again. not her dad, fuck her dad. 

loves true crime, the supernatural, and conspiracy thought. is probably watching a true crime doc rn. 

she’s just starting to leave her house for the first time in like... a year? like she’s only started to get out again in the last few months.

as for drugs, she def drinks, but she’s more likely to smoke weed. also, she’s a big fan of lsd, but holds herself off to only tripping every few months.

is considering moving to the woods and being the lonely crone everyone whispers about. or maybe switching to voice acting. 

she fuckin hates dolls. literally her worst nightmare is being trapped in some collectors’ doll rooms.  

wanted connections. 

melodrama ex (0/1) - the ex she wrote her breakup album about. can be any gender. i literally want this connection so bad kfdskjkadsfds

best friend (0/1) - someone who was with her throughout her... Transformation

squad (0/3) - bc who doesn't love a squad. this is the vibe i’m going for (sound warning)

icon (1/1) - someone lorrie looks up to and like... majorly doesn't wanna disappoint. - filled by kami!!!

musician buddies (0/?) - they bounce lyrics off of each other, you know how it is.

rival pop star (0/1) - idk i just think it would be Neat. maybe even with a plot that they had a major falling out and now they have to pretend to get along.

hookups (0/?) - or other messy shit

texting crush (0/1) - really weird concept but like... i imagine lorrie would have the number or snap or insta or whatever of this muse and they get talking after melodrama and she just... lays it all out. they don't really talk in person, but she feels really close to them and definitely develops a crush

weed buddy (0/1) - they come to her house and smoke and complain its great

friend turned enemy (0/1) - maybe someone who adored starr but doesn't like who she is now?????? idk idk

enemy turned friend (0/1) - maybe someone who thought starr was fake af but then meets lorrie being Herself and is just like "oh you're a Human" idk idk

bonus.

as a thank you for making it to the end of this fucking enormous intro, please take a moment to enjoy these tik toks reflective of lorrie’s personality (they’re also???? great on their own) 

lorrie talking/singing to herself alone in her house 

honestly she has tinkerbell vibes

drunk mouths speak sober thoughts

and thats on mental illness

[valentines-in-london]

I Need Fire (Part 2)

Gif by @robwiethoff

Previous chapters: Chapter 1

Next Chapter: Chapter 3

Summary:  Rayne moved to LA a few years ago and has never really fit in.  While most of the Sunset Strip girls were movie star beautiful, with thin builds and blonde, Rayne stood at 5′10 in flats, had curves that no diet would make disappear and had big red curly hair.  The only person that ever made her feel normal was her best friend and room mate Jo.  In this chapter Jo tries to play matchmaker…

Authors Note:  Hey there, thank you all for coming back for chapter 2!  Spread the word tell your friends, as always my asks are open for suggestions, reviews, what you like, what you don’t, etc, etc<3</p>

Word Count: 3,297

Taglist: @triplehaitches  send me an ask if you want to be added!

Chapter 2

It was a hot weekend in Los Angeles, today alone was going to hit 88° according to the local news.  So what were two girls to do?  Of course, lounge by the pool and catch some sun!  The apartment complex that Rayne and Jo lived in had a giant pool that no one ever seemed to take advantage of, it was always a ghost town.

Rayne brought her boom box to the pool with a stack of cassettes.  First she put in On Through The Night by Def Leppard and pressed play.  “I know you’re gonna say I listen to this too much but the guy at the record store knocked it out of the park with this suggestion!  This band is gonna be big.”

“I mean you certainly have had much worse phases.”  Jo giggled from her lounge chair as Rayne took off her baggy t-shirt.  “Oh Rayne if I looked like you I would wear a bikini!”  Jo complained upon seeing Rayne in an emerald green one piece.

“You’re crazy!  I love my curves but no one wants to see me in a bikini.”  Rayne scoffed while laying back in the reclining chair sliding sunglasses over her eyes.

“Oh I can think of one person who wouldn’t mind seeing you in less than that.” Jo teased taking a drink of her iced tea.

“Huh?” Rayne asked propping herself up on her elbow.  "Who?“

“Well I saw Vince the other night and he told me that his drummer has been talking non stop about some bombshell red head he met the other night at the apartment.  He described you to Vince and then said you left with some blonde who was there for Vince.  Vinny later put two and two together that you must be my friend.

"Oh God!” Rayne put a hand on her forehead in exasperation.  “Of course he’s your fuck buddies friend.”

“You know Tommy is pretty sexy.”  Jo pushed the issue.

“Jo he ate a girl out in the middle of a room full of people.  I’m pretty sure her cum is on the walls.” Rayne slid her sunglasses down the bridge of her nose.

“Well at least you know he’s good at it!” Jo laughed before shoving Rayne’s shoulder.  "Oh come on, you deserve to have a little bit of fun!“

Rayne thought about it, maybe she did deserve to have some fun.  But was someone like Tommy worth the trouble he would undoubtedly bring with him?  "I don’t know Jo, I don’t think dating a musician is worth it. They tend to be like leeches.  Remember when Danielle dated that dude from Ratt and found out he was just using her for groceries?”

“I think this band is a little bit different Ray, they sell out every show they play on the Strip.  They’re making money. Vince says he thinks they’ll get signed soon, they have a label executive trying to convince the label to sign them.  And besides, who says you have to date, just fuck him and leave him.”

“If they’re making money why does their apartment look like a bomb went off in it?  God I can’t believe you fucked Vince in there!” Rayne laughed, not even wanting to justify the second part of her friends statement.

“Oh my god it’s awful in there isn’t it?” Jo agreed clenching her hands into fists in front of her.  "I think I saw a cockroach crawling on the floor when Vince had me bent over the bed.  But at that point I didn’t care.“

Rayne gave a loud sound of disgust and threw the sunscreen at her friend.  “Ew!  That’s so fucked.”

Rayne adored moments like this with Jo, where they could just get down to straight up girl talk.  Back home she never had friends that she could talk honestly with, most of her girl friends said that she had no tact and was more like a guy in that way.  Rayne would never forget the first time she ever met Jo after answering a want ad in Recycler magazine for a room mate.  When Rayne entered her hopeful future apartment she was greeted by a disheveled looking Jo, her blonde hair a mess, partially up in a pony tail and an off the shoulder loose fitting top.  Within two minutes of them talking Rayne watched as a guy walked out stark naked, her jaw dropped when he asked if Jo had a pair of pants he could borrow.  The blond smiled at Rayne with a megawatt smile, “I thought he was going to be gone by the time you got here, but I think I wore him out.”  As strange as it sounds Rayne knew in that moment she had met a kindred spirit, even if Jo made Rayne look like a prude most of the time.

The two girls sat by the pool for a few hours gossiping about new bands on the strip, new girls on the strip and every now and then going into the water to cool off.  That night they were going to the Roxy. No bands were playing that they were particularly interested in but the Roxy played the best music when no bands were on and the girls were friends with the DJ who would be spinning there.  Little did Rayne know that Jo had told Vince they were planning on going. If Vince was going that undoubtedly meant that the rest of the band would be there. Jo joked with Rayne that she needed to get laid, and it was all in good fun, but she truly didn’t want the white collar world to suck the fun out of her best friend.  Maybe a bad boy would be just what the doctor ordered.

Later that night the girls entered the Roxy and music already blasted out of the speakers, specifically "Fashion” by David Bowie.  Jo shouted in Rayne’s ear, “I’m gonna go find Robbie.”

Rayne nodded her head making her way over to the bar to grab drinks.  She smiled when she saw that her favorite bartender David was behind the bar. “My love!”

“Hi David.” Rayne smiled hopping onto the bar giving her friend a big hug.  "I keep missing you! We don’t come to the Roxy as much because you guys haven’t been doing live music as much.“

"That’s all going to change soon babe.” David said happily.  David had been working at the Roxy since Rayne moved to LA he was a typical bartender in that he was charming and worked for his tips, he also made a damn good drink.  "What can I get you?“

"I’ll just have a Cardu neat.  Jo is saying hi to Robbie, but let’s get her a vodka cranberry.”

“You got it sweets.” David winked.  After a few short moments he pushed two glasses across the bar.  

Rayne slid a twenty dollar bill back at him telling him to keep it.  "David, would you mind keeping an eye on our bags behind the bar tonight?“

"Always.” David reached his hand out to grab onto Rayne’s leather purse.  "Save me a dance tonight.“

"Oh I don’t know about that.” Rayne smiled and winked.  Rayne crossed the club floor weaving in and out of people to find a decent spot.  She and Jo had become strip rats so to speak, they went out basically every single night, mostly for live music but in that time they had made a little family of friends.  You go out to the same places enough you start to see familiar faces, and you either get along or start to mark your territory against those you didn’t like.  Working her way through the mass of people she spotted Jo coming down from the DJ booth through the crowd of people towards her as Metal Guru by T. Rex started to play.  "David will take your bag for the night, and here’s your drink. Drop your purse and come out and dance with me!“

Metal Guru could it be you’re gonna bring my baby to me She’ll be wild you know a rock and roll child, oh yeah Metal Guru has it been, just like a silver-studded sabre-tooth dream I'II be clean you know pollution machine, oh yeah

The two friends danced to the music singing with each other as they danced.  Swaying her hips to the music, Rayne lost herself in the music she absolutely loved.  T. Rex and Marc Bolan, even if in real life she would have towered over him, were huge influences on her music taste.  T. Rex wasn’t changing the word but they did change hers.  When Marc Bolan died Rayne vowed she would get to the UK one day and pay her respects in some way.

Metal Guru is it you, yeah, yeah, yeah!

The girls sang the lyrics to each other as the song faded into All The World Is A Stage by Slade.

"I thought that was you.” Rayne heard a male voice from behind them.  Spinning on her tiger print heel her stomach flipped when she saw Vince, Tommy and two others with them.  One being the guy who lit himself on fire the other night and the other Rayne hadn’t seen before, he was slightly shorter had long black hair and was wearing aviators, even though we were already in a dark club.  Tommy’s eyes were locked on Rayne causing her stomach to do flips.

“Babe!” Jo shouted jumping onto Vince wrapping her legs around his waist.  The two kissed and Jo mouthed I’ll be right back to Rayne, leaving her alone with the other members of Vince’s band.  Thanks for being my wingman Jo, Rayne thought to herself.

“You like T Rex?” The fire guy asked.

“I love them, they’re one of the greats.  Too bad I never got to see them live.” Rayne smiled genuinely at him.  "What’s your name?“

"I’m Nikki.” He tilted his head upwards in greeting.  Rayne looked down at the shorter man with longer hair.

“And who’s Mr. Way Cool?” Rayne said jokingly to the man wearing aviators.

“Mick.” He said, short and to the point.  "The sunglasses usually make people fuck off.“

"Have you found that works?” He simply nodded, Rayne smiled approvingly.  "Well if that’s the case I might have to start wearing sunglasses when I go out. Not that many people take notice when I’m out with Jo.“

"They should take notice.” Tommy quickly interjected over the music, his dark eyes hadn’t left Rayne since she had turned around upon hearing Vince’s voice.  She saw Nikki roll his eyes and she was sure Mick did behind his sunglasses.

“I need vodka.” Mick said.

“I need a bump.” Nikki quickly said after.  Both of them heading in opposite directions leaving her alone with Tommy.  Fuck, everyone’s leaving me!

“You have to tell me your name.  It’s driving me crazy.” Tommy spoke his eyes begging like a puppy dog.

“Why should I tell you?”  If she was being honest with herself, Rayne kind of enjoyed this game of cat and mouse the two were playing.  Rayne wasn’t used to being chased, in fact since moving to LA she had gone on three dates, just three!  None of those resulted in anything longer than a few weeks and a few free meals.  For the life of her though she really couldn’t figure out why this good looking drummer was showing any interest in her.

“Because you’re fucking beautiful.  You’re a knockout. A ten!” Tommy said enthusiastically.  He certainly had a magnetic energy about him.  His dark hair was fluffed and teased but still maintained its shine.  He was in his leather pants again but this time wore a top with holes cut all through it.  He looked like he was ready to go on stage in this outfit, the other night he seemed more casual, even with the leather pants.

“Look, I appreciate that I really do.  But I am not the kind of girl you want.” Rayne said politely, pulling out a cigarette, offering one to Tommy which he happily took.

“Why not?” Tommy questioned pulling a lighter out igniting a flame for Rayne to use.  Rayne put the cigarette between her lips and leaned into the flame the end lighting up like a cherry.

“I’m not my best friend Jo.” She exhaled gesturing to the ladies room where her friend had gone off with Vince.  "I’m not going to fuck you in the bathroom of a club.“

Tommy flashed a smile before exhaling a stream of smoke, "Oh just give me some time.” As soon as the words left his mouth he closed his eyes and made a face.  "I can’t fucking believe I just said that.“

Rayne chuckled while reaching up and wrapping both her hands around Tommy’s neck, her fingers lazily playing with his hair.  "Don’t worry about it Tommy boy. I’m sure you and the fire hydrant will be happy.”

Tommy had a confused look on his face before it clicked, she was talking about Bullwinkle.  "No she’s not my…”

Rayne pulled one hand away from his neck taking a deep inhale of nicotine, “Yeah, yeah I know.  She’s not your girlfriend. That’s just the point I’m not that girl.  And you guys in bands enjoy being with those girls.”

“Oh so you think you know what we all want?”  Tommy narrowed his eyes.

“I’ve been around enough of you to know it is what you want.  That or I’m a bet between you and your buddies, which has also happened to me before. Good looking guys don’t go after the big girl.  They go after girls like Jo.” Tommy’s eyebrows shot up.

“So you think I’m good looking then?” He smiled wide resulting in Rayne playfully shoving his shoulder.  He’s a beautiful idiot, Rayne thought to herself.

“Oh fuck you.” She laughed, pushing his shoulder slightly.  Rayne had to give it to him he was charming.  His eyes were chocolate brown and strangely kind, if she didn’t know better Rayne would have thought he was being genuine with her.

“Come on!  Have a drink with me?” Tommy motioned over to the bar.  Her heart wanted to, badly. Her mind on the other hand…

“You never give up do you?”

Tommy leaned in close, so close that Rayne could feel his hot breath against her ear.  "Not when I see something I want.“ His response was simple and resulted in an electric shiver to coarse down Rayne’s spine.  Tommy reached down to take her hand in his and Rayne thought the two would catch on fire from the sparks she could feel between them.  She’d never experienced anything like this before.

Just when Rayne was about to open her mouth and say something, she was almost tackled to the ground by an excited Jo.  "It’s our song!!!”

Jo’s approach had snapped Rayne out of her Tommy fog and she realized Stay With Me by The Faces was blasting through the speakers of the club.  "Let’s dance!“ Jo led Rayne away from Tommy to a clear spot on the floor.

Red lips hair and fingernails I hear your a mean old Jezebel Let’s go up stairs and read my tarot cards, c'mon

“That’s you girl!” Jo smiled at her best friend pointing to her hair.  "I bet Tommy wouldn’t mind going upstairs and pulling on that hair.“

"Shut it you perv.”  Rayne laughed while continuing to dance.  She occasionally stole a glance over to Tommy and Vince who were watching the two girls intently.  She knew she’d regret it later but she definitely danced a little more seductively knowing Tommy was watching her.

Hours flew by music, smoke, drinks and swirling lights surrounded everyone in the club.  It was so easy to lose yourself along to the music, it was intoxicating.  Surprisingly Tommy left Rayne alone for the rest of the night, in every way at least except his eyes.  He couldn’t take them off of her. The way she moved, her smile, the way she’d get excited when a song she liked came on, and that mass of curly hair swaying back and forth.  Her hair was a shade of red that resembled fire, a mix of copper and wine that Tommy just wanted to run his fingers though and pull on.

“Tommy if you keep staring at her you’re gonna burn a hole in her ass.”  Nikki said sitting down next to Tommy at the bar pouring out a line of coke.

“It’s great to look at though dude.  I’d like to do more than look at it though.” Tommy smiled at his best friend as Nikki dipped his head down snorting up the dust.  "I’m just drawn to her. I don’t know why, I’ve never felt this way before.“

Nikki sat up and rolled his eyes at the statement, "Really Tommy?”

“Dude!  I’m fuckin serious!  I’m getting a fuckin boner just from watching her dance, that hasn’t happened to me since I first started getting boners.”

“She hasn’t given you the time of day, forget about her and take a look at the sweet thing over there who’s practically drooling at the sight of you.  She’ll definitely relieve the blue balls induced by red over there.”  Nikki spoke gesturing toward a blonde girl at the end of the bar. She wore a hot pink string bikini top and pursed her lips when she saw Tommy look at her.  "I think we could have a threesome on our hands man.“

"Or a two-some, just you and her.”  Tommy laughed clapping his hand on Nikki’s shoulder before his eyes went to his beautiful red head on the dance floor.  He turned back to Nikki and simply said,  "She doesn’t even compare.“

"Well, T-Bone turning down pussy.  I think you should see a doctor man.” Nikki smiled before getting up and approaching the blonde.  Tommy stared down at his drink until he heard a voice from heaven next to him.

“Hey David, we’re heading out for the night can you grab our bags?”  Rayne spoke from beside him. The bar was packed so he could feel her pressed against him as she leaned over the bar.

“You’re just cruel you know that?” Tommy said shaking his head in disapproval looking up at her from his seated position.

“Am I?”  Rayne asked flirtatiously leaning into him, he could tell she’d had a few drinks.

Tommy spun on the stool fully facing her, taking a risk and resting his hands on her hips.  "Let me take you on a date. Come on.“

Rayne’s green eyes drifted to the ceiling in thought.  "Tell you what rockstar, if you can find me this week before your next show that I’m sure I’ll be dragged to by my best friend.  I’ll go on a date with you.”

“You promise?” Tommy smiled up at her leaning in to try for a kiss, his hands sliding down to her ass.

“Oh no you don’t.  I’m drunk but I’m not that drunk.” Rayne grinned grabbing Tommy’s hands and putting them in his lap.  He looked like a kid that was just told he couldn’t have cookies before dinner.

“Come and find me.” Rayne huskily said leaning in and kissing Tommy on the cheek, leaving a stain of red lipstick behind.  When she pulled back she broke eye contact. “Thanks David, see you later.”

And with that she was gone in a sea of people.  Tommy turned to the bartender that had handed her bag to his red haired beauty, gesturing for him to come over.  "David,“ he called him by the name she had used, "let’s talk you and I.”

Tommy punctuated his statement by pulling out a $50 slamming it on the bar.

***

Song Inspiration for this chapter: Def Leppard-Rock Brigade T. Rex-Metal Guru Slade-All The World Is A Stage The Faces-Stay With Me

[theolddarkmachine]

It Was On The Police Report

The flash of a hand waving across his vision forcefully dragged Shiro back down from the clouds of the memory as the rasp of the firefighter’s voice dissipated, only to be replaced by the far less pleasant voice of his best friend.

“Earth to Shiro,” Matt said around a mouthful of sandwich as he stared Shiro down from across the break room table. “What did the hotshot do in your daydream this time? Save you from a burning building? Soak himself with the spray of his firehose? Take you for a ride on his—”

“Finish that sentence,” Shiro growled as he stabbed his fork a bit too forcefully into his lunch. Honestly, the noodles didn’t deserve that kind of abuse, but it would be frowned down upon to do the same to Matt. “I dare you.”

“Alright, alright, down boy,” his companion laughed as he raised both hands in forfeit. “Just figured I’d ask. Didn’t think your leftover lo mein would be the one to make you look so dreamy, but hey, who am I to judge.”

“It’s really good lo mein,” was all he replied as he shoved a large forkful into his mouth, hoping it would buy him some time to come up with a better excuse. Truth be told, Shiro was aware that his completely ridiculous— and admittedly out of hand— crush on the firefighter was futile. They had talked on the phone the one time, and it had been during someone else’s emergency.

Part 1 of 911, What’s Your Emergency

AO3

This is so fucking dumb, but the heart wants what it wants, so here we are XD 

Highly influenced by 911 on Fox. 10/10 def recommend.

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“Is everything okay? Is Lily safe?” “Yeah, yeah she’s safe. I got her. She’s okay.” “Oh thank god. Thank you for saving her, Keith.” “Shiro?” “Yeah?” “You’re the real hero, you know.”

***

The flash of a hand waving across his vision forcefully dragged Shiro back down from the clouds of the memory as the rasp of the firefighter’s voice dissipated, only to be replaced by the far less pleasant voice of his best friend.

“Earth to Shiro,” Matt said around a mouthful of sandwich as he stared Shiro down from across the break room table. “What did the hotshot do in your daydream this time? Save you from a burning building? Soak himself with the spray of his firehose? Take you for a ride on his—”

“Finish that sentence,” Shiro growled as he stabbed his fork a bit too forcefully into his lunch. Honestly, the noodles didn’t deserve that kind of abuse, but it would be frowned down upon to do the same to Matt. “I dare you.”

“Alright, alright, down boy,” his companion laughed as he raised both hands in forfeit. “Just figured I’d ask. Didn’t think your leftover lo mein would be the one to make you look so dreamy, but hey, who am I to judge.”

“It’s really good lo mein,” was all he replied as he shoved a large forkful into his mouth, hoping it would buy him some time to come up with a better excuse. Truth be told, Shiro was aware that his completely ridiculous— and admittedly out of hand— crush on the firefighter was futile. They had talked on the phone the one time, and it had been during someone else’s emergency.

His caller, a nine year old girl that was home alone and scared, had reached him with a voice filled with fear and two intruders in her home.

It was a new home, the girl had said, each word shaking as she’d spoken. She didn’t know the address.

Shiro had done what he could to get as much information as he could from her in order to get any semblance of an address to get someone to her after his tracking could only get him as close as a neighborhood. Stay calm, he had continued to say to her, ignoring the way his own heart had been hammering in his chest. He had been a dispatcher for a couple years now, but it never became any easier, especially when kids were involved.

And especially not when he heard the exact moment the intruders had found her hiding place. After some quick thinking and a sharp plea for the man to leave her alone, Shiro had begun to craft a plan that would call for a help from more than just the police department, and possibly a bit of prayer.

I’ll help you get out of there, he’d told the men. Just leave the girl alone.

That was how he had found himself on the phone with the firefighter— Keith, his mind supplied oh so helpfully— explaining that he needed him to drive the neighborhood with his siren on in search of a tan house with a pink bike on the front lawn. The men would be looking for a police vehicle, but they wouldn’t suspect a fire engine. Anyone else might have seen how flimsy the plan was. Anyone else might have asked why they should listen to a man that sat on the sidelines, not actually taking part in the action.

Keith, as it turned out, wasn’t just anyone.

Instead, he went along with what Shiro had said, and in the end they managed to find the girl and arrest the men. It was a victory, and knowing the outcome would have been enough for him. He was more than used to getting the call for the emergency, only to be met with the sound of a deadened line once the caller was certain someone was coming.

All too many times had he found himself wondering just how things had ended for the people that called, so this had been more than he was used to already. Sitting in front of his computer, he had felt the tension in his shoulders release as he finally let go of a breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding when Keith confirmed that the girl was safe.

It was in the pause after that he was certain he’d hear the familiar sound of a phone hanging up.

It was nestled in the rasp of Keith’s voice as he said Shiro’s name that he felt a strange sensation in his chest.

You’re the real hero, you know.

It was in those six words, that Shiro fell.

So yeah, maybe he did occasionally daydream about a faceless firefighter with an alluring voice whispering sweet nothings in his ear. He knew it was pathetic. Was more than aware that it said a lot about the state of his love life that he had developed a crush on someone he had spoken to once, would most likely never speak to again, and hadn’t even seen. In fact, Matt had taken every opportunity he could to remind him of just how sad his life was.

“Seriously, Shiro, do I need to give you and the noodles some alone time?”

Swallowing his bite, Shiro gave his best friend a nonchalant shrug.

“In fact—” he started, prepared with a barbed retort before he was cut off by a half eaten sandwich thrust unceremoniously at his face.

“Nope, you are not finishing that thought,” Matt bit out as he lowered his lunch just enough to see his softened gaze. “It’s too far. Your life depresses me more than my own does, but I know it hasn’t stooped that low.”

Snorting at the verbal jab, Shiro scooped up another pile of noodles before winking at the brunette.

“You’re just jealous that me and the lo mein are truly happy with each other,” he said before loudly sucking down the bite. It earned him the patented Holt eye roll, and for just a moment Shiro wondered who did it better, Matt or his little sister.

“Okay man, whatever you say.” Matt took another bite of his sandwich as he watched Shiro closely, a contemplative look in his eye as he carefully chewed. A silence settled over them as he did his best to ignore the amber gaze, instead focusing on the limp vegetables and greasy noodles that were left in his tupperware. If he had been paying attention, maybe he would have seen the moment Matt’s eyes brightened with the light of an idea.

If he’d been paying attention, maybe he wouldn’t have choked on a stray sliver of carrot when his friend broke the silence.

“Why don’t you give him a call?”

“Because that isn’t weird at all,” Shiro managed after a solid minute of coughing and a brief flashing of his life before his eyes. Grabbing for his water bottle, he carefully drank down a mouthful of the cool liquid as he tried to also swallow down his heart.

As if I haven’t already considered that, he thought sheepishly, avoiding eye contact in case Matt could see that it had already crossed his mind. That would just give him more ammo, and Shiro was already outgunned.

“And daydreaming about a disembodied voice isn’t weird at all,” Matt scoffed as he abandoned the last bit of his sandwich. Dropping it on top of the clear plastic of the baggy that had once housed it, he braced an elbow on the table as he pressed his cheek into his palm, fixing Shiro with an all knowing smile.

“It’d be easy enough to find.”

He knew it would be. All they would need to do was look up the police report and Shiro would hold the 10 digits in his very hands that would get him back in touch with that liquid smoke voice.

Except that was weird.

And Shiro wasn’t that sad of a human being.

You’re the real hero, you know.

At least, he didn’t think so.

“No,” he bit out as he dropped his fork into the now empty container before he pressed the lid into place. Pushing back against the seat, forcing the metal legs to screech against linoleum as he stood. He still technically had about 10 minutes before the end of his lunch break but if Shiro knew anything, it was when to retreat, and now was one of those times.

Dropping the empty container into his cubby beside his other belongings, he started to make his way to the door.

“I would just have to look up the—”

“No, Matt,” Shiro ground out, the metallic fist of his prosthetic curling around the door handle as he wrenched it open, adding a note of authoritative finality to his voice. If Matt was anyone else, that might have worked.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t.

A single snort of mischievous glee escaped through the crack of the door before it fell completely shut.

Shiro wasn’t sad enough of a human being to stoop to that point yet.

At least, he probably wasn’t.

***

The sound of dull hits against vinyl punctuated the otherwise quiet of the empty training room. Each smack of his knuckles sent a faint reverberation up through his wrists and into his arms as Keith continued his rhythmic onslaught.

Right, left. Right, left.

Chewing on the inside of his cheek, the firefighter ignored the sharp metallic taste of blood as his canine sunk in a bit deeper than intended.

How many times do I have to tell you not to be so rash, Kolivan’s earlier words cut through his thoughts as he threw more heat behind each punch. You have to assess the situation first, Kogane.

Right, left. Right, left.

As if he hadn’t heard that before. He’d heard it all before.

You’re such a hothead, Kogane. You never think first, Keith. When will you learn, Kogane?

There wasn’t really much anyone could say to him that someone at some point in his life hadn’t said. It came with the territory of being a foster kid, after all. He ticked every single troublesome checkbox as if he’d made it his purpose to live up to the brand.

Yes, he could admit that he did like fast bikes, fist fights, and anything painted a shiny shade of red. But more importantly, he also liked helping people. Always had, which was almost always the reason he found himself in hot water.

Where people only saw his split lips and black eyes, they missed the person behind them that came away unscathed because he had managed to step in and take the blow. Bruising and cracked knuckles were a small price to pay to protect someone.

If anything, it made things a whole lot easier when it came time to figure out what he wanted to do with his life. After a brief stint at community college, Keith found himself at the local fire station and hadn’t left since.

That had been three years ago, and somehow, he still found himself on the receiving end of the fire captain’s unamused scowl like he was some sort of troublesome teenager instead of the 23-year-old that he was.

Right, left. Right, left.

Yes, maybe he could have stood to have thought it through just a bit longer before he’d run into the apartment building. Yes, he probably should have at least put on his respirator. And yes, he probably should have figured out what the integrity of the building had been. But there hadn’t been time. Flames had been licking their way along the building and twisting up to the night sky, and all Keith could hear were the screams of a panicked mother that couldn’t find her child amongst those that had been evacuated.

A drop of sweat crawled down his temple and towards the line of his  jaw as he continued to throw his energy into each punch.

Right, left. Right, left.

It all worked out in the end. Keith had found the girl and gotten her out. As far as he was concerned, it was a victory, so he wasn’t quite sure why Kolivan had decided he’d deserved the public flogging in front of the rest of their team once they’d returned to the firehouse.

Well, that was a lie.

Keith knew perfectly well that he’d earned the reprimands when the a piece of the building had caved in, just barely missing him and the girl as he finally pulled them both hacking and coughing from the smoke filled apartment. That, was not the point though.

She lived. He lived. The fire was out. Go team.

That didn’t matter though. All Kolivan saw— all any of them saw— was a rash decision and a possible death wish.

Next time, Kogane, you’ll be suspended.

The captain was a hard ass and ran his crew with an iron fist, but Keith knew he was serious when he started to sling around the threat of suspension. Kolivan knew more than anyone what this job meant to him, and a threat like that only meant one thing.

Keith had really fucked up.

Breathing in steadily through his nose, he held onto the breath as he continued to jab at the punching bag, only letting it hiss back out through his teeth as his lungs began to burn. Letting himself fall into the monotonous cadence of his fists, Keith tried to beat back the exasperated voice that kept running circles in his mind.

Right, left. Right, left.

An immeasurable amount of time passed as he continued to focus on his wrapped knuckles as they continued to beat into the weighted vinyl when he heard the sound of his phone ringing. The standard ring cut its high pitched tone through the air like a heated knife through butter as he pulled his last punch and turned his gaze away from the swaying bag to the lit device on the ground by his water bottle.

He could let it go to voicemail. Should, actually, given there were only a handful of people that would be calling him, none in which he actually wanted to hear from currently.

If it was his roommate, Lance, it would devolve into another fight over who had polished off the last of the pizza rolls. (For the record, Keith had, but he wasn’t going to admit that.)

If it was Hunk, he would want to know exactly what Kolivan had said after he’d pulled him away from the rest of the team to speak with him in private. The EMT would then probably offer some sage words of advice, which honestly, would be worse than anything else.

If it was Kolivan, well, he didn’t want to think what else he might have to say to him after that particularly unpleasant chat they’d already had.

Stepping away from the punching bag and towards his phone, Keith crouched before it, picking it up as it started it’s second round of rings. It vibrated against his palm as he read over the numbers of the unsaved number that scrolled across his screen. Normally, Keith would just let it kick over to voicemail.

Of course, on a normal day, he wouldn’t be looking for a distraction either.

Sliding his thumb across the screen, he waited until it showed the call connected before he raised it to his ear.

“Hello?” He said, breathing heavily around the word as he tried to catch his breath.

“Fuck,” the caller said, the word colored a bright shade of surprise as if they hadn’t really expected him to pick up. Something behind his sternum kicked loose as Keith recognized the voice.

Thank you for saving her, Keith.

It was the 911 dispatcher from the other week. The one that had called him with a crazy plan to save a little girl, and with a need for someone willing to do something a bit rash. He’d received a pretty stern talking to after that one too, but it had been worth it to hear the deep voice that thanking him.

Not, that he didn’t usually get thanked for his work, but something about the way the man— Shiro— had said it had sent a jolt of electricity humming across his veins. It had been so genuine and so pure that he had wondered if all the other times had just been for show.

Keith would be a liar if he said he hadn’t thought about the voice since, but no one needed to know about the late nights spent turning those six words over and over in his mind like a smoothed stone as he admired them.

“Hi, uh, Keith?” Shiro said clumsily after a quick jostling that sounded suspiciously like the phone being dropped. “It’s Shiro. The 911 dispatcher. From the other day?”

His voice was equal parts hopeful and flustered, and something about it sent heat racing up his neck. If he hadn’t realized it the first time, he was fully aware now of just how nice of a voice it was.

“Yeah,” Keith said, telling himself he sounded so breathless because of his workout and not the way his heart was suddenly racing in his chest. Sitting back on his haunches, he bit on the edge of his slowly growing smile as he continued.

“I remember you.”

***

Shiro honestly had not been planning on using the number. He had silently vowed when Matt shoved it ruthlessly across his desk before leaving that he would conveniently forget it in his pocket where it would be eventually washed and forgotten forever.

That vow lasted all of two hours and 22 minutes.

Really, it hadn’t been his fault. After dropping himself in the middle of his couch with a cold beer and the number burning a hole in his pocket, he had decided to turn the TV on just to be met by a story about a fire at an apartment complex. More importantly, he had been met by a sharp jawline and mauve eyes that stared straight through him as one Keith Kogane— Hero Firefighter— answered questions about what it was like to save a life. Everything that was said was lost on him as Shiro found himself in awe of the way the man had looked.

If his voice was liquid smoke, Keith himself was fire.

A dark line of soot was spread across his cheekbone, and his dark hair was plastered down with sweat, and somehow, he still managed to steal all the air from Shiro’s lungs. His imagination hadn’t done him much justice at all.  

The number was entered into his phone before his mind had even caught up to his hands, and it was ringing before he even managed to get it to his ear.

This, he thought bitterly as it rang, is what I get for being a responsible adult and watching the news.

Silently, he prayed he wouldn’t answer. He didn’t ask for much, so if there was a God, they owed him this much. Right?

Right.

“Hello?”

Or wrong. So very, very wrong.

Somewhere, Shiro was certain Fate, God and Matt were laughing over the current state of his life.

Because yes, apparently he was that sad of a human being.

“Still there?” Keith’s voice cut through the white noise that was his brain hitting reset after the firefighter had confirmed that he remembered him. Running the palm of his flesh hand down his face, Shiro prayed for death as he listened to Keith’s heavy breathing on the other end. Each gust of air sounded like a pant that did nothing to help the way his heart was beating itself black and blue inside his chest.

“Yeah, I’m still here,” he said lowly, trying to swallow the aching burn that had opened up in his chest as he imagined that glass cut face colored with exertion. For a moment, he wondered what that same face would look like looking up at him from his bed.

For another moment, he wondered if he’d earned his seat in Hell yet.

“Is this a bad time?” Shiro asked, praying Keith couldn’t hear the way his voice faltered over the question, filling it with hope. Though whether it was hope for a yes or no, even he wasn’t sure.

“No, just caught me after a workout is all.” Trapped behind the words was a low chuckle that twisted itself deep in Shiro’s stomach like a knife. It was a sound he wanted to hear again and again, only able to imagine what Keith would look like with his sharp lines turned soft by a smile.

“How’d you get my number?” Keith suddenly asked, shattering the vision with the single question. Pulling the phone away from his ear to eye the timer on the call, Shiro noted that it took all of two and a half minutes before he officially messed everything up. Because while he knew he could lie, he also knew he wouldn’t.

He wasn’t a good liar anyway. Once upon a time, he had told Matt it was a good thing. At least you know I’m always telling the truth, he had said when he was young and naive.

Pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, he breathed in before answering quickly, hoping that dealing with it much like tearing off a bandaid would somehow make it better.

“It was on the police report.”

Silence.

Of course, it didn’t.

“Ah,” Keith huffed eventually, interrupting Shiro’s careful inspection of his metallic hand as he wondered if he thought he could use it to suffocate himself.

“So, I just wanted to thank you,” he replied lamely, trying to salvage what he could of the conversation as he felt the crushing weight of embarrassment pressing him further into his couch.

“You did that already,” Keith said lowly and evenly, almost as if he was trying to keep his tone neutral. It was the kind of voice people used when they had something on their mind, and now that the firefighter had caught his breath, Shiro could hear the way it colored the edges of his words with something dark.

Shiro knew that kind of voice well. He heard it damn near everyday.

“Hey,” he breathed as he sat up a little, straightening his back and pressing his elbows into his thighs as he braced himself. “I don’t mean to pry or anything, but are you okay?”

It had been a stupid thing to ask, and Shiro regretted it almost as soon as the question left his mouth. He didn’t have any right to ask it. He didn’t know Keith, and Keith didn’t know him. Worst still, his voice had automatically dipped into quiet compassion. Opening his mouth to say literally anything else, Keith beat him to it.

“Why do you ask?” The firefighter had spoken so quietly, that Shiro thought maybe he misheard him altogether. Another tense moment of quiet rolled out between them as their breaths mingled over the line.

“I’m just really good about picking up on that sort of thing,” Shiro finally said, shrugging as if Keith could see him. Biting into his bottom lip, he pulled a small strip of skin away, momentarily letting the sting beat back the feeling of embarrassment that was curling around in his gut.

“It comes with the territory.”

A dry chuckle crackled through the speaker, reminiscent of burning kindling.

“You know, you’re the first person to ask me that,” he replied carefully, as if admitting so much was already admitting too much.

“Look, forget it, if you don’t want to talk about it, it’s fine,” Shiro backpedaled quickly, offering Keith an out. It was another thing that came with the territory. Read the situation, and adapt.

“No, I,” Keith paused for a fraction of a second. “I want to. I really—”

Sirens pierced through the background, shooting through the speaker so loudly that Shiro had the tear the phone away from his ear to avoid being deafened by its shriek. A low growl greeted him as he placed it gingerly back to his ear.

“You should get going, duty calls,” he offered, trying to swallow the bitter taste of disappointment as it coated the back of his tongue. All he could hope was that Keith couldn’t hear it in his voice as well.

The sirens continued to screech over the line, filling his head with their high pitched sound.

“Can I call you back later?” Keith asked tentatively, stutter stepping over the question as if it would be some kind of misstep to ask. As if Shiro hadn’t been the one to call him in the first place.

A flutter rolled through Shiro’s chest. If he were a bit more dramatic, he might even say that his heart skipped a beat.

“Yeah,” he breathed, hoping that Keith would still hear his low answer over the commotion of the firehouse. “I’d like that.”

“Good.” Relief rushed forth through the single word, and somehow managed to fill his own veins with its buoyancy. He was going to call him back. “I’ll talk to you later, Shiro.”

Carefully, he tucked away the way his named sound on Keith’s tongue in the mental folder he had already begun to compile on the man.

“Be safe, Keith,” he managed before he was met with the silence of a dead line. Pulling the phone from his cheek, Shiro set it down on the coffee table before he pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. Dragging a settling breath in through his teeth, he let his heart slow down to a normal rate in his chest.

And then, if he struck a triumphant pose after gathering himself, well, no one needed to know.

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