#good ol infirmary

[penvisions]

underbelly {gone to the dogs} - a holiday special

Pairing: Boston QZ! Joel Miller x F! Reader

Summary: You and Joel have an understanding, a new thing between you both. Where once biting words were exchanged and annoyance flared, now there's this simmering thing that slowly takes hold. And who is Joel Miller if not a giving man at his core, determined to do right by the people he lets into his pack?

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: canon typical language, outbreak fic, age gap (about 15 years), sub! joel miller, dom / sub dynamics, sexual content, rough sex, p in v, smut, unprotected p in v (it's the end of the world, y'all), oral (m and f receiving), sappy gift giving, holiday fic, some good ole pwp (well a little bc it's me lol)

Fic Notes: set at the beginning of their relationship, so between chapters five and six, i believe

A/N: hello, my loves! this is an apology of sorts for joel's behavior in the most recent chapter of the main series 😅felt like i needed to even the playing field a bit hehe. happy holidays and hope the days are good to y'all!

ao3 link || series masterlist || navigation || ko-fi

The table in front of you is an organized mess. From the small baggies of pills and powder, to the piles of hand rolled cigarettes and joints separated in plastic bins, there are four more full of medicine and vitamins that aren’t offered at the infirmary. This is most of the current stock you have, save for a bin that contains five to ten baggies of each drug and pill you offer safely secured underneath the loose panel of wood that acts as one of the many patch ups to the walls of your apartment, this one in your bedroom right beside the bathroom door.

You’ve got a beaten up notebook open as you’re looping out names and exchanges owed. A tally of who you traded with the past two weeks and what they asked for in the next two. There’s a lot to organize and you take an afternoon each week to keep it all neatly transcribed. The small bottle of ink you have is beside the little stamp you’ve kept well hidden from anyone else. Not wanting it to fall into the wrong hands and end up being used on product that is certainly not yours or up to your standards.

Tess had just gotten up from the couch, her resting spot for a moment after work. An inner jacket pocket full of baggies she was about to go and deliver to the tenants of the building next door. Just as you’re about to get up and stretch your legs, the front door opens after a jingling of keys and the lock turning.

Joel.

He’s back late for the day, but you don’t mind getting the random hours to spend with him. You do a lap or two around the table before you set a pot of water up on the stove to boil in an attempt at a late lunch. There are a few cans of potatoes you found last week and you wanted to try and make something soft and hot- mashed potatoes.

Snow dusts the top of his shoulders as you watch him carefully lock the door behind himself, his thick fingers sliding the deadbolt and side latch locks. It’s all in his hair too, darkening the locks by contrast, though you can see the gray beginning to thread itself between the strands. Without a word, Joel is turning and something flies out of his grip and towards you across the room.

You catch it, though the hit of the hard thing is cushioned by a swath of thick paper around it and a twine bow tied to keep it closed.

“Joel, what the hell?” But he doesn’t respond, shrugging off his jacket and hanging it on the back of the chair you had been in before disappearing into the bedroom. His boots clunk with the heavy steps he takes, the pain in his back and hips worse today without him needing to tell you. Sighing, you set the electric burner to the lowest setting and sit back at the table.

The little wrapped item gets set to the side, not forgotten but saved for later.

“Why didn’t you open it?”

“It’s just more of the same. Wanted to catalogue everything I already have before adding more to the roster,” You swoop the pencil in your hand over the expanse of the table, it was clear what was going on, wasn’t it? Why did he have to pick arguments with you even now, you’ve shared your apartment and bed with him for nearly a year. But sometimes you still feel like you didn’t know all of him and while you had resigned yourself to that very likely reality, you would take what he could offer you. What he was willing and wanting to offer you, because when you did- the tension in his shoulders eased just a bit, that scowl he wears so well lessens just a bit, his dark eyes lighten enough to let you glimpse at the person you assume he used to be.

“Darlin’, it ain’t none of that.” When you tilt your head to the side, much like an entranced dog, you can see the way his adam’s apple bobs, his next words the softest you’ve ever hear from him. In both sentiment and tone, aside from the night everything shifted. “It’s a gift for you. For the holiday.”

“Joel…” The confusion leaks out of you, replaced by a warmth in your chest. It’s been…god, it’s been years since anyone got you anything for the holidays. And here he is, all brooding and big and violent, giving you a piece of himself you hadn’t previously seen. His eyes are heavy on you as the paper crinkles, the twine unravels.

Atop the notebook, nestled in the ‘gift wrap’ is a little wooden figure. A dog. A cane corso dog.

A physical depiction of the very thing that lended you the nickname you’ve taken on in stride. Adapted in your endeavor to provide things for the people that the remnants of government forces refused to or asked for too much in exchange for. You were always giving, sacrificing, scrounging, never taking anything for yourself unless absolutely necessary. But this? This was something just for you, something made just for you but the looks of it. The scrapes and a blade obvious in the carving.

The gasp that leaves you does nothing to help the rapid flutter of your heart.

He’s sitting on the edge of the bed, sharp eyes watching the way water droplets cling to your skin as you emerge from your shower. The door was wide open, the space heater Joel had found among the rubble now fixed and set between the bedroom and bathroom threshold. A lame attempt at bringing some warmness to where you both curled up at night.

The cold was getting to him, his body aching. Not just sore, but aching in the way that begins to spur thoughts of old age in his mind. He’s not that old, he doesn’t think. But he is a hell of a lot older than you and he sees it in the way you perk up at the sight of snow softly falling from the sky. In the way you offer to run to the commissary or the food hall for everyone when there’s just no energy for standing at the stove or tinkering with something that’s been broken one too many times.

Your eyes are on him as you approach but he doesn’t feel like he used to when they pinned him down in a challenge. Now he feels rooted to the spot, waiting to see what you would do with anticipation rather than anger at being challenged. He no longer feels like you’re heeling him, like he’s nothing but dirt and grime underneath the tread of your boots, flesh that was torn apart and stuck between your teeth.

No. Now he feels like he’s been granted a fresh breath of air straight from your lungs.

And he’s reveling in it. He can’t help out but reach with itching fingers, trailing over the silk of your damp skin. The hitch in your breath he can fucking hear is driving him wild, the way you freely walk around like this when before it was all growls and threats if he even so much as managed a glimpse of what you look like underneath your threadbare clothing. Of the real you that hides behind the harsh persona and attitude you’ve taken on as a shell against the world.

He sees it now, as you let him trail his fingers up to the crooks of your elbows and tug you between his legs. His lips press to your skin, a groan escaping from his chest despite the pull in his shoulder muscles at the action.

The shift of the dynamic was sudden, brought on by seeing you in a new element. One where he was able to glimpse the person you used to be. And it had made his heart both stutter and ache. If you had crossed paths before the end of the world, you would’ve thrown him for a loop, stuck in his head until he carved out time to do something about it. But as the universe played it’s hand, he’s still crossed paths with you. That’s good enough for him, despite the biting words you used to mean as you berated him and bossed him around- shoved the barrel of a gun in his face and demanded what the hell he thought he was doing trying to edge in on the smuggling scene here in this zone like he owned the place.

Because he didn’t then, and he still doesn’t now. No, that’s you.

And he’s now the muscle in it, determined to do right by the situation. It feels good to step down, to follow the orders he gets from you or from you by Tess’s mouth. To just be a piece in the game he had been heading for far too long in far too many places and scenarios. It was nice to just turn off his brain and listen.

He feels much the same way now as he watches with a quick thrumming of his heart and blood rushing to his cock as you move to kneel behind him on the bed still in only your thin towel. Hands gently kneed into his aching muscles, and he leans into the touch. It was a good thing, he thinks, to have taken the time to carve that figure for you. A gift. A frivolous thing he wanted to give to you in the midst of chaos and too cold weather, the half-smile it brought to your face worth the effort of a new hobby he had dared to try.

When prodding fingers find a particular hard knot between his neck and shoulder blade, the moan he lets out pinches his face up in pain.

“Lemme get the menthol stuff, it’ll help.”

He watches as you strut across the room and disappear into the kitchen, towel now gone and all your skin on display. He feels the swell of his cock harden in his jeans and presses a palm to relieve some of the ache there too.

He’s always been the one to lead, to take charge but he’s thinking more and more that you like being that way. And his mind blanks as you stand in front of him with hardened nipples and a jar of homemade lotion that smells far too strong to handle at the moment.

When you upcap it, he reaches out to stop you. The puzzled look that has the hint of annoyance behind it has him rolling his lips, words stuck in his throat. As the silence drags on, you must see the way that his eyes are darkened by arousal and contemplation. But you don’t move until he manages to unstick the words from where they’re lodged.

“Just…not right now. Your hands are good enough, we can save it for another time, yeah?”

Without a word, you’re twisting the cap back on the jar and then pushing a small hand to the center of his chest.

“Then lay back.”

“What for?” He raises a thick brow at the command, ready to dispel whatever hesitation that lingers in his body.

“Gonna take care of you. You gonna let me?”

All he can muster up is a nod before he listens and does exactly what you ask of him. He lets go of everything, every thought and you take the reigns from his hands. The clink of his belt is loud, breaking the drone of the heater working in the corner and the sound of his zipper as him closing his eyes tightly.

“You gifted me something and now let me do the same. Just lemme take the lead, turn that brain off for a moment, yeah?”

Joel sighs out a ‘yes’ as he lifts his hip at the tap of your palms there, allowing you to peel the jeans and boxers from his legs. Goosebumps crop up at the cooler temperature, the heat of his hardened cock bobs against his stomach. He’s never been this way before. Not with you and barely with Tess, physical and sexual interactions always on his terms, on his conditions. Giving into you know feels right, he trusts you. Even as he feels the nip of sharp teeth on his neck before a warm tongue sooths it over.

“You can be such a good boy sometimes.” And the praise falling from your lips in a confident tone should irk him, but it does nothing but cause him to jerk below the waist and clench his teeth together as he feels it wash over him. It’s genuine, not teasing. He should know, because he’s normally the one praising you in such a manner. It’s a nice moment, he realizes, letting you take the lead. Allowing himself to fall into your commands in a less than serious way. In a more serious way. This is everything.

His chest heaves as you move down his body, the denim shirt he’s wearing unbuttoned as you go, lips trailing over coarse chest hair, the trail that moves down down down…

The feeling of him in your mouth is a heady sensation, it’s lighting up your body in hot sparkles that almost vibrate in intensity. The salty, musky taste of him on your tongue is one you would never tire of, even if he seldom lets you indulge him this way.

Down to his core, he’s a giver. He’s someone who gives himself to those around him and that’s obvious even in the bedroom. He always pleasures you, with his plush, delectable lips. His thick fingers and wide hands, the edge of his strong nose. The heft and feel of his cock something you crave just as much as he seems to be willing to sink into your pulsing heat at any chance he could get. It wasn’t just about fucking. Hell, it wasn’t even just about being fucked by him- it was something more. A man whose walls were built so high, bricks unsettling and gaps forming as you both share daily responsibilities and nightly routines. You were bonded.

But right now? He’s given himself wholly over to you.

His lips form a hard line as you nose along the leading head of his cock, flushed a pretty dusky pink, the exact same shade. But you can’t fight the frown that threatens to take over your own as you press your them to the slit to gather the pearlescent drop there, tongue peeking out to taste it.

“Lemme hear you, Joel.” That paired with the hungry way you swallow him down has him surging up with a strangled expletive followed by your name. After that, he hardly has any trouble letting loose deep groans and guttural growls as you take him back into your mouth and hollow your cheeks. His hips lift as you take him as deep as you can, leaking head nudging the back of your throat in the most delicious way.

It's dangerous, how powerful you feel right now. With Joel Miller loose limbed and compliant beneath you, surrendering to whatever you deem he deserves.

But nothing compares to the grip his hands form on your hips and the frantic look in his eyes as you straddle his thick thighs and sink down on him until your bottom is flush with them. Panting, you grind slowly, reveling in the feel of him deep and stretching you to make room for him to nestle. He’s hitting that sweet spot only he can reach and starts burst in the corners of your vision as you meet his gaze.

He’s never looked for open and recked, eyes blown own, breath puffing out in harsh pants, lips glistening from where you swear drool shines over them…

Tracing the bounce of your chest as you continue to grind against him, pleasure swathing you both in a tingling that crawls over every inch of skin. You clench around him, pulling a tortured sound from him as he fights off the feeling of bucking up into you. The shaking of his legs makes you feel pride spark low in your belly just as a flash of heat does.

“Hold on tight, I’m gonna take a ride.”

His head knocks back harshly onto the bed when you lift up and slam back down, eyes fluttering shut as all he does is hold on tight to your hips and lets you take care of him.

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[joonieskinks]

don't, she's mine

simon ghost riley x reader x johnny soap mactavish | love triangle, angst, fluff, swearing, mentions of blood/stitches | 2.2k

“Si, please don’t do this” You begged, tears daring to drip out with another blink. You slipped your hand into his, pulling on him to try and get him to come back to your naked form, into your bed. 

“Y/N, we can’t. It’s not appropriate, I’m your Lieutenant. This has gone on long enough.” Simon stated coldly. He refused to make eye contact with you, the mask already back on. You can tell he’s trying to put on a brave front, to keep his resolve. You know him well enough at this point to pick up on these things, yet it breaks your heart that it has come to this. That he’s treating you like you’re nothing special so suddenly. 

“Please. Please, Simon. Don’t leave me now”, a sob wrecking your throat. He turns his head at the sound, his chest throbs, but still he declines to meet your eyes. Simon gives you a soft squeeze of your hand, brings it up to his mask as if to kiss it lightly- then walks out. 

You’re left alone, as the dawn breaks through your curtains, naked, lonely, cold, abandoned. How could he just leave? After all these months, after all this time of getting to know one another, making each other laugh, fixing up each other's wounds and sharing beds together… He could just leave? 

Sure, he was hesitant at first about initiating anything between a Corporal and her superior, but he never let that stop him, did he? 

Not when he was holding your hand, leading you to his bed, his head between your thighs, making you cum on his tongue for the 3rd time that night. 

Not when he would corner you into the nearest bathroom, taking you from behind, covering your mouth so no one could hear your sounds. 

Not when he would moan into your kiss, holding your body close to his, murmuring “I love you”s.  

And not when he finally bared his face to you for the first time. The emotions, the love and the trust you could both feel between you. You felt bonded and you fell in love with each other. Rank aside, you were his and he was yours, you wouldn’t trade your Simon for anything. 

But now, it feels one-sided, broken, left to die. You’re embarrassed, disheartened, a thousand emotions from hate to adamant adoration for the man run through your head. 

You can’t help the tears that pour, your tense clutch on the pillow and your sobs sing you back to sleep. 

/

Two months later… 

It’s been uncomfortable to say the least. 

Although you’ve been able to avoid Simon’s presence for the last couple of weeks, you’ll still see him occasionally for training exercises, group meetings and when he wanders into the infirmary when he injures himself. Still, he never talks to you, meets your eyes, never tries to engage. All doors firmly shut on you it seems. 

His cold front put you off from any attempts to talk with him, and frankly, you were far too hurt to utter a word for fear you may split at the seams before him and fall apart. 

So, it was back to business at usual, pretending nothing ever happened, no one was none the wiser. You included, with the way Simon treated you. Might as well have never been.

You got word today that a soldier was called off training due to a pretty nasty cut and that he would be arriving shortly. Your breath always hitched when you never got the name, always anticipating it to be him. Yet you could never decide if it was out of hopefulness or dreadfulness. 

However your efforts were in vain when Soap, good ol’ Johnny, strolled into your station.

“Back again, are you?” You smiled at the poor man, rolling your eyes. 

“Aye, lass. Back just for your company.” He winked, his one hand clutching his opposite arm. You could see the blood leaking from the makeshift towel bandage. 

“Alright, alright, come in. Sit down, get comfy. I’m afraid this may hurt.” You grabbed your tools and a stool, getting to work on your friend. 

You and Johnny have always been close, he’s been sweet to you when others were short and demanding. Especially in the beginning when this position was quite overwhelming. But he was there to calm you down, talk, unwind. Even when he got injured like today, he’d come straight to you. Now, you were the only one he trusted to patch him up, his trusted Y/N. 

“So, what happened this time?” You inquired, slipping your gloves on and exposing his deep cut to the brisk air. He winced a little, discarding the bloody towel to the floor.

“Ah, you know, bonnie- I’m a little too cocky.” Johnny laughed slightly. “Thought I could dodge the recruit in time. Fucker got the best of me.” You gasped in reply. 

“A recruit, Soap? Oh, how old and slow you’ve become!” You jokingly exclaimed, he rolled his eyes but chuckled along. 

“Alright now, listen. It was two! What was a man to do? Say no to a challenge?” Johnny lifts his arms all fed up and you have to push him down. 

“Hey, I’m starting your stitches now!” You laugh, holding him still.

“Sorry, sorry. Can’t have the wee pretty nurse laughin’ while she’s tryin’ to stitch me up, might end up lookin’ like broken railroad tracks.” Johnny looks down at you, seemingly to test the waters. 

You glance up at him, a small blush creeping onto your cheeks. You can’t lie, it feels nice to have some attention after feeling like discarded garbage for so long. But you try not to let it get you thinking about that, about feelings, about him. You try to play it off.

“I’ll have you know I’ve got very steady hands, I’m quite the artist.” He smiles as best he can, while he braces himself for the needle. 

“You good?” You ask. Johnny nods back as you begin, using his spare hand to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. 

“Wanna hear a joke, lass?” A smile breaks out onto your face. 

“Alright try me, Soap. But no promises about your stitches turning out pretty.” 

“Well then-”...

Johnny tells you joke after joke, and you try your best not to laugh while stitching him up. But it keeps slipping out, the laughter, the joy, the compliments from him. 

And Simon hears it all. 

Walking by your station to get to Price’s office, he stops just before the doorway as to hear you. Your laughter, your voice, Johnny’s adoration… He lets himself peer inside briefly, only to see Johnny touching you, you stitching him up like you used to him, and your gorgeous, smiling face. 

It makes him feel sick, wrecked with jealousy and you don’t miss his form as he storms by your doorway. 

/

After Johnny was stitched up and good to go, your stomach hurting after all the laughter, he was free to go for the evening. He invited you out for celebratory drinks, but you declined. After some poking and with the knowledge the whole team was going, well- can’t really say no then. 

You got changed into something presentable and headed out to meet everyone. You had some nurse friends you could keep close to, but when you arrived, Johnny made sure to capture your attention. From a game of darts to more jokes, buying you drinks as a thank you, he was there. 

Johnny pulled you aside to an empty table after he noticed your enthusiasm dying down. He placed his hand onto your thigh, reassuringly. 

“Hey, you need another drink?” You quickly shook your head.

“No, I’m okay. One is enough. Thank you though.” He hesitated before prying further, taking a look around the room. A small smile creeped onto his face.

“Want to dance?” Johnny asked, an eyebrow raised. You immediately scoffed and he took note of that.

“What’s wrong with a little bit of fun, bonnie? Come on.” He grabbed your hands, dragging you to the dance floor. You could only go along and try to make the best of it. He’s sure trying, but all you could think about was Simon. You appreciated Johnny’s efforts to make you feel better, but you know who you really wanted during times like this. But the Scotsman took you out of your thoughts all too quickly.

“Watch this.” He whispers into your ear, bringing you in close. He places one hand on your hip and another in your hand. Immediately, twirling you around to the beat. You could only hang on and go along if you hoped to survive. 

“Johnny!” You laugh, clinging to his hand and shoulder. He twirled and twirled you across the dance floor, everyone in the bar beginning to take note. Whistles and cheers were heard as you captivated the attention. 

Except for Simon. Simon who has been watching this entire time from across the room, not a second did he let you leave his sight. Simon who looked on with gridded teeth.

It was only when the song ended and Johnny dipped you, bringing your face close to his, did he react.

Without a rational thought in his head, he moved across the bar to you two. Johnny and you were inches apart when you both caught a heated Simon rapidly approaching in your sights. 

“Si…” You whispered instinctively. It was only now that Simon realized he was in front of you. The crowd silenced and slowly began to dissipate as you three stood still, gawping at each other. Johnny was the first to break the silence. 

“Well, well, well, Lieutenant. Do I have some competition here? Or-”

“Don’t, McTavish.” Simon boomed, and it was like a shot to the heart. Oh, how you longed to hear his deep, intoxicating voice again. 

Johnny pulled you up back into his arms and kept you there until Simon removed you from his grip, his hand in yours. Simon gave the Scot a menacing stare until Johnny put his hands up in surrender. 

“Alright, LT. Alright.” Johnny backed off to rejoin his boys. 

You looked up at Simon, his stare still on Johnny, insisting he stay gone. 

“Simon…” You whispered, gripping his hand tighter. Praying he would never let go again. 

“Come with me.” He whispered back, as he led you outside the bar for some privacy, his hand still in yours.

You two stood in the brisk, night air, facing each other but still he never granted you his eyes. It was all you had with the balaclava on. 

“Please, talk to me.” Your heart was aching, begging for any kind of balm he could provide. To finally have him this close again after long nights of crying alone, you need this. You need him. And if it's closure, so be it. But something.

Instead he let out a laugh. A genuine laugh.

Your face dropped and utter confusion engulfed you. 

“He did it all on purpose.” Simon looked up at you, stroking your interlocked hands with his thumb. You could tell he was smiling sheepishly through the mask. 

“Wha-?”

“Johnny. He did this all on purpose to get me to speak to you.” A huff of air came through his nose. “And it bloody well worked.” 

Realization hit you, and you let out a little laugh yourself. But you quickly fell into your thoughts.

“Wait, he knew about us?” You asked, holding eye contact with Simon, his gorgeous, gorgeous eyes.

“He figured it out. Said ‘I’ve been acting more broody than normal’”. You smiled briefly, before your moment of happiness turned into desperation and longing for the man before you. How you’ve missed him, craved and ached for him.

“Why did you ignore me?” You couldn’t help the tears that began to build up again. As they slipped down your cheeks, Simon moved his hands around your face, cupping your cheeks and wiping them away. 

“I thought it would be easier this way.” You quickly shook your head and he steadied you by placing his forehead on yours. 

“Please forgive me. I’ve made a fool out of myself. I thought it would be easier not to meddle our personal lives and professional. But it’s not, it’s harder than anything I’ve ever put myself through.” He tilted his head back to remove his mask, baring himself to you once again. Simon wanted to prove his sincerity to you, his love for you. Your hands flew up to his exposed face, your Simon, the man you loved. Finally able to feel his skin on yours again, refusing to take your gaze away in case he disappeared once more. 

“I’m sorry, lovie. If you give me another chance, I won’t mess it up. I know I don’ deserve you, but hell, I’d like to try.” He gave you a small smile and tried his best to push back the tears that threatened to erupt. You nodded frantically. 

Simon closed the gap and your lips met. He moaned into the kiss and his hands gripped your waist, keeping you in place close to his body. Your arms wrapped around his neck, deepening it, getting as close to him as you possibly could. 

You stopped briefly to breathe, and you laughed through the tears still falling down your cheeks.

“What?” He asked, smile still present on his face.

“So you were jealous?” You bit your lip. 

“Shut up”, Simon chuckled as he brought you into another kiss.

[blvdheart]

life is beautiful, but you don’t have a clue

⇢ getting all bruised up and battered with minimum medical aid from the government is brutal. leon doesn’t believe he deserves to be helped, though. after months of hiding these moments of vulnerability from you, he lets finally lets you in, knowing deep down that you wouldn’t turn him away

cw: fem!reader, established relationship, leon’s alcohol dependency and low self-worth, religious guilt, attempts to hide depression, brief description of wounds, angst, comfort and reassurance, patching him up, small snippet with chris, 3.2k wc

note: i promise there’s more to me than just writing ooc smut for him 😞 i rewatched vendetta and omg i want to hug him so bad. (˚ ˃̣̣̥⌓˂̣̣̥ ) i’m not sure if the small font is too straining on the eyes, if it is, lmk!! i’ll change it back to the regular sized one. if you see typos, no you didn’t

divider below is by @/cafekitsune!!

just how many confessionals and assigned prayers would it take for leon to be forgiven for all his wrong doings? probably more than he could keep track of. then again, he hasn’t clasped his hands together and recited a muttered chant for redemption in ages. the belief in a savior dissipated alongside his naive outlook in life once upon a time.

he had laid on a cold hard mattress for hours in the infirmary made specifically for DSO agents. the nurses didn’t give him much care, though. he was patched up, prescribed some pain killers, and sent home. the recovery period was over a month long, but he knew he wouldn’t actually be granted that much rest before he had to be back in action.

two broken ribs and a dislocated shoulder. he’s dealt with those same conditions time and time again, but it never got any easier, especially as he got older. he was busy basking in his misery, longing for only two things: the bitter taste of alcohol on his tongue, and his girlfriend’s soothing presence.

he tried to keep this part of him hidden, he was ashamed. he had already opened up to you about his job, and how he would be away for long periods. what he didn’t tell you was that those said long periods usually included his recovery, so you didn’t have to see him all broken and battered. he usually kept all the lights in his house off even when the evening approached, so you wouldn’t know he was back in town if you happened to drive by his place.

the two of you had gotten together a year and a half ago, and he used to be more…stable. he feared you’d up and leave him if you found out how bad it had gotten for him.

but the thing is, he knew you would take care of him. your love for him was unconditional, and he didn’t know whether to be grateful for it or to feel sorry for you. after all, he was known to have occasional outbursts of irritation, being on edge from all his baggage and his frequent doses of hard liquor. but he wasn’t a bad man, he just needed some TLC.

he could nurse his good ol’ mind numbing beverages stored coldly in his fridge all he wanted, but it wouldn’t make him feel any better. in fact, his self-hatred only grew once he found himself depending on alcohol. in his head, he chose to rely on a drink to feel a buzz. in reality, that was far from the truth. a man like him was drowning in the depths of his baggage. PTSD, survivor’s guilt, and alcohol didn’t mesh well.

it was you who kept him sane, really.

you were the skin-kissing sun after a harsh thunderstorm, like a balm to his traumatized and guilt ridden soul. you saw him for who he was, the selfless and love-yearning man he had always been, not a grouchy killing-machine like some people started to view him as of late.

even when he was overseas, your love always managed to reach him.

it was those heartfelt text messages and voicemails he often received that made him tread through his missions carefully, he knew there was someone back home worth living for.

voicemails:

“hi leon! i know you said you might not have internet connection over there or that your phone might break but…um…i dunno, there’s a chance you’ll hear this, so might as well, right? i really miss you. i was procrastinating during my job the other day, yeah boo me…but i made a list of some movies we can watch when you’re back in town. maybe you can come over and we can cuddle on my couch all night, hehe. anyway, i hope you’re okay. i really don’t want you to get hurt or anything. call me when you fly back in?”

“oh shit, is this voicemail? [incoherent mumbling] uh, okay yeah. hi leon, i’m at rite aid right now. i don’t wanna sound nosy but i saw some of the bloodied medical tape you left in my trash and…and i just got worried and wondered if you needed anything? maybe you didn’t want to concern me but, tell me next time okay? let’s see…there’s a lot of different brands, i dont know which one you’d like. call me back ASAP, i’m gonna stay here for a bit longer just in case you do. bye, i love you!”

“okay i figured you wouldn’t pick up. i know it’s like four am but i just woke up and my dream was about us! it went like…like…oh shit. i think i forgot already, bummer!” silence, and some hums. “i literally just had the dream like five seconds ago and i can’t remember it anymore. i’m pissed! anyway, see you tomorrow? or today, technically. bye!”

messages:

found this meme and it reminded me of you…wait do you even know what a meme is? ha, loser

here’s the link to the letterboxd website i told you about earlier!

come overrrr, i’m off work at 8 today. unless my asshole of a coworker shows up late again, ugh

you left your jacket at my house, it’s mine now!!!

not sure if you fell asleep already but please text me back when you can and when you’re sober. ik we just had an argument but we should talk it over, i want everything to be okay between us, i love you. you’re not mad at me are you??

replaying those sweet voicemails was like a remedy, providing such raw tenderness that nothing else in the universe could. you were the epitome of an angel walking the earth, keeping him from falling into the pits of hell by visiting his dreams whenever fell asleep all splayed out on his floor with an empty bottle by his side. it should be you snuggled against him instead, on a bed.

while you gave leon all your sweet love, there were other people working behind the scenes, dishing out some tough love to leon. like chris, who had hit rock bottom once and didn’t want leon to fall prey to the same thing.

“and how about your girl? you really think she’ll want to deal with you being like this all the time?” chris asked, his voice more agitated than mad. he wasn’t angry, just worried and wanting to push the truth into leon’s head. he had found leon sitting on his ass with a drink too many times to be considered a brief stress relief.

“leave her outta this.” leon scoffed, turning off his phone (he had been staring at his wallpaper that was a picture of you.) “i don’t let her see this side of me.”

“side? leon, it’s not just a side. it’ll consume you whole. what happens when it becomes your whole life, huh? what happens when you start disappearing all the time?”

“get off my ass, chris.” leon sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, trying to not lash out. “i came here for some peace and quiet, not for you to nag at me like you’re my mother.”

“i’m not trying to–” chris cut himself off, unsure of how to get across to leon. leon was absolutely miserable, the only time chris saw some hope in his eyes was whenever he soberly rambled about you. “i’m just saying that you’ve got a good thing going for you, and i don’t want you to ruin it by not trying to get better.”

silence, so chris spoke up again. “she cares about you. so try to care about yourself too, okay? i’ve been there, i see myself in you. i know it’s not your fault that you’ve turned to alcohol. but, let her in, let her help.”

leon looked down at his glass, watching his own reflection, some guilt burning in his gut. he hung his head a bit, looking like a kitten that had just gotten in trouble. he knew chris was right.

maybe this once, he could break the cycle of hiding and cowering. his throat felt dry as he reached for his phone, wincing a bit at the shock of pain the movement caused.

his fingers struggled to tap his cracked screen, the brightness of it making his nose scrunch and eyes squint. eventually, he found the phone app, you were at the top of his list, and he dialed.

…

“leon!! hi, hold on, lemme turn my TV off, i was watching a podcast.” and surely enough, he could hear the background noise lower until it was gone completely and your heavenly voice was filling his ears again. “okay, done. i can’t believe you’re calling, i’ve been waiting all week! how are you? not hurt or anything, i hope? need me to pick you up from the airport or?”

his lips twitched, threatening to turn into a small smile at your bombardment of questions. but he bit it back, feeling undeserving of such happiness. your voice overpowered the weak buzzing of his fan and the wind that rusted outside.

“uh, no.” his voice sounded hoarse, so he tried to clear it. “i’m actually at home, was wondering if you could come over? i…kind of need some help. only if you can, i don’t want to bother you.”

the silence that lingered made him feel tense, his heart pumping so loud that the noise reached his ears. then he heard some shuffling over the phone, as well as some keys jingling.

“be there in fifteen.”

it was just like you to drop everything to help someone else, no questions asked (at least not yet.) god, he loved you.

his world had felt muted before you, devoid of any color and saturation. but every time you he thought of you, suddenly colors were blooming as if he was a blank canvas and your paintbrush strokes were bringing him to life and giving him a purpose.

waiting fifteen minutes felt like an hour, maybe because he was counting down the time on his fucked up lock screen. the numbers looked wonky, he could barely make them out. his watch was broken too, no luck there. having no concept of time, even for a moment, felt weird.

he eventually heard his front door lock twisting. he had given you a spare key just in case, he trusted that you would never snoop through his things or take advantage of that privilege.

“um, hello? leon?” you sounded worried.

“god, it’s dark in here…” you then mumbled, splaying your hand against the wall and searching for his light switch. a couple seconds later and bingo, the sudden bright light left you disoriented for a while.

“i’m on the couch. just…don’t say anything, please?”

your brows furrowed at his request, and you rushed on over, your shoes thudding against his wooden floor. surely enough, there he was, laying on his back with agony written on his features. he had his leather jacket off, his arms having nips and tears all over. small ones, at least, but still collectively all painful.

“oh leon��” a worried mutter fell from your lips, and you kneeled down, the harshness of the hard cold floor not even registering because you were too engrossed in him.

you didn’t want to cry in front of him, not when he was the one suffering. but the pain you felt in your chest for seeing your sweetheart look so defeated just had you getting a bit teary. leaning forward, you planted a kiss on his forehead, your hand raising to stroke the crown of his head. his hair was a bit knotted.

he leaned into your touch like a puppy, letting out a pleased sigh. your affection felt like a gift in a bow after the way he had been slammed around by infected enemies earlier.

“what happened? i—“ okay, he said no questions. you could save the context seeking ones for later, but you did have to know what was wrong. “where are you hurt?”

he didn’t dare look into your eyes, knowing that it would break him. he was looking down further at your neck though, so his gaze was at least on you.

“everywhere.” he managed to croak out with a dry chuckle. um, not helping. “if we’re talking specifics though, the doc told me i broke two ribs on my left side. i also dislocated my left shoulder, they put it back into place but um…y’know, it still hurts like hell.”

after taking a breath to compose yourself, you nodded and stood up. “okay. do you have an ice pack?”

leon nodded. “in my freezer.”

you went off to fetch it, also taking one of leon’s small kitchen towels and wrapping it around the ice pack before placing it onto the coffee table. then, you went to his bedroom, getting two of his pillows and the first aid kit in his bedside drawer.

his eyes lit up when you returned. you were so nurturing it made him want to sob into your arms. but he’d open up to you one step at a time, one day at a time.

“can you…can you try sitting up just a bit? you’re supposed to be a bit propped up.”

well, that wasn’t the worst he’s had to do with a broken rib. he could manage. with a grunt of pain, leon slowly propped himself up, giving you some time to slide the two pillows in.

“there we go.” with a small smile, you couldn’t resist but place another kiss against his forehead. it made him feel good, it was like all your gestures were doses of ibuprofen.

the coldness of the icepack had seeped into the towel. and you gently applied it to his left side, your eyes lifting to meet his face to watch for any indicators you might be hurting him.

“down or up?” you asked him, moving the ice pack up further. he hadn’t told you which ribs had been broken, after all.

“down, please.”

you hummed, moving it back down and letting it rest there.

“how do you know so much about this?” he asked. sure, an icepack was probably a no brainer but you seemed so sure of yourself by making him sit up more.

“google works wonders.” you shrugged alongside your answer. “i just figured some knowledge on the most common injuries would be good for me to learn since your job is pretty dangerous. call me psychic but i saw this in my future.”

some brief moments of quietness washed over afterwards, making him feel unsettled. were you angry because he had often kept his bedridden moments from you? he couldn’t tell.

“i’m sorry.” his apology hung in the room, every one of his nerves feeling on edge.

but it was your warm and gentle touch on his face that had him crawling out of his low self-worth and into reality. a reality where someone loved and cherished all parts of him from his darkest to brightest days. you.

“what are you sorry for?” your question was spoken through a whispered tone of voice. “you’re out here risking your life and saving people whose names you don’t even know, yet you’re apologizing?”

you kneeled down again so you could be closer to him, stroking the side of his face with your knuckles. “i wish you had told me, but i think i can understand why you didn’t. i don’t want you to feel like you have to hide this from me. you know i’m here for you.”

“i…i know.” he didn’t doubt how much you cared for him, but it was hard to feel like he deserved someone as great as you. what did he have to offer?

“c’mon, look at me.” you pleaded, having taken note of the way his pretty blue eyes hadn’t met yours even once.

he blinked, his eyes darting around a bit. he bit his bottom lip nervously before releasing it. it was only when he felt your hand slide down to hold his that he finally mustered the courage looked into your eyes.

he looked broken, but willing. a small glimmer in his eyes that begged for devotion and comfort, for his angel to continue guiding him even when he lost his path. to not be cast aside like he was replaceable. he couldn’t leave his job or the hell that was his life even if he wanted to, but you made life worth living.

you gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “i love you, leon. through sickness and health.”

you couldn’t suppress the desire to kiss him yet again, this time scattering them all over his face. your affection brought a surge of joy over him.

the wedding vow reference made him crack a grin. he chuckled a bit even though it caused his injured body discomfort. “i love you too.”

“did you think i wouldn’t help you?”

while you asked the question, your eyes skimmed over his body. his clothes were nipped at, the tears revealing some patches of his skin that had dried up blood or that were bruised. geez. you just wanted to cling to him, but you knew that would only strain him.

“i knew you would.” he began, watching as you stood up and disappeared back into the kitchen. he could hear the sink running. “i didn’t want you to spend your time looking after me, you have your own life to live. you shouldn’t have to babysit me.”

you came back with a wet towel, using it to clean up the dirt and blood on his arms, making sure to be gentle.

“babysit you? that’s not what it’s called, leon. i’m taking care of you, is all. i know you’d do the same and be even more stubborn about it.”

his eyes were trained on you, appreciating the concentration you held while cleaning him up. like a feather, your nimble fingers only left fleeting sensations against his skin. so delicately and tenderly, you treated him.

“yeah, i probably would. thank you.”

“don’t mention it.”

you spent the next twenty minutes disinfecting all his open injuries and putting gauzes over them, making some conversation but keeping it light since you needed to focus. there was more of a sparkle in his eyes than before, you had patched him up both physically and emotionally.

“how’re you feeling?”

“better. can’t say i’ll be able to walk properly tomorrow, though.”

“you need lots of rest to recover. you should sleep.”

and he was fucking tired, having stayed up all day. his body had been on fight-or-flight mode so many times that it had exhausted all his emergency energy. and initially he was sure his injuries wouldn’t let him rest, but you were here now, watching over him.

“yeah, i should.” he agreed with you. “will you…will you be here when i wake up?”

okay. you felt warm inside, he was opening up to you, allowing you to stay by his weakened side. “of course. and the day after tomorrow, and the day after that, and um, you get the point.”

you lifted a hand to rub at his temples, alleviating the headache he had. leon groaned contentedly, his long eyelashes fluttering as his eyes shut. he could feel some drowsiness kicking in already.

“i could get used to this.”

“mhm, just go to sleep.” you voice was getting quieter and quieter in his mind, when’s the last time he fell asleep this quickly? maybe when he was 20. last time he had a broken rib, he didn’t get a wink of sleep.

maybe life was constantly testing him, disrupting his peace at every turn, seeping into all the crooks and nannies. but he found his person, the one he wanted to spend the rest of his days with, the one who reminded him of how valuable his life and accomplishments were.

yeah, he could see his future, alright. one where he only picked up a bottle of beer during celebrations, one where he could be tangled up with you and be doted on without feeling guilt.

and it was sooner than later that those thoughts would be fulfilled.

[snaillock]

all patched up

becoming infatuated with the infirmary nurse after getting socked in the face by your own teammate. just a regular ol' day in blue lock. wc: 0.8k

rin stepped into the infirmary with blood-stained tissues held up to his aching nose. he heard the sound of anri closing the door behind him as he looked up to see you sitting on a desk, writing something down.

both of you guys were very surprised to see each other, though for very different reasons. rin’s mind flooded with different questions. who is this? why is there someone about his age in the infirmary? is this the person who’s supposed to fix his nose? there’s no way.

you immediately stood up from your chair and walked up to him, staring at his nose.

“oh god, what happened to you?”

“i don’t wanna talk about it,” he grumbled. getting kneed in the nose by shidou was already humiliating enough. how was he supposed to share it with his supposed doctor who looked young enough to be his classmate.

“that’s perfectly okay. we don’t have to discuss it right now. just sit down over there.”

he sat down on the paper-covered infirmary bed you gestured to and eyed you suspiciously as you took some gloves out and put them on.

“you seem way too young to be doing this,” he said almost accusatorially.

“oh me? i’m just a part of a program my school is doing for colleges. i joined since i plan to study sports medicine,” you said as you moved your chair over and sat in front of him to feel the bridge of his nose, making rin flinch from the unexpected touch and slight pain.

“they really hired a teenager for this?” rin questioned, shifting his eyes away from your focused look on his nose. he tried to keep his focus off the unfamiliar feeling of a hand on his face as he felt a wave of embarrassment wash over him from letting another person around his age do this. still, he complied, not wanting to inconvenience you or him

“hey! i’m very experienced in this, alright? besides, the person supervising me isn’t here right now,” you then leaned in closer to whisper, “and between you and me, this whole establishment here seems mad shady. however, it was one of the few places that were willing to pay me for this so i won’t be complaining.” you shrugged as you finished checking his nose, mentally noting his sudden quietness.

“ok so luckily, it’s only a minor fracture -i’m assuming from blunt trauma- so you’ll need to wear a splint for about a week, then you should be good to go.”

he simply nodded, staying silent as you rolled your chair to the desk to get some things out of the drawers. you then scooted back in front of him.

“ok rin, can you tilt your head back for me?”

he did as you said, feeling his palms getting clammy for reasons unknown to him. he instinctively squeezed his eyes shut in, anticipating any pain, when you pinched his nose's bridge to ensure it was aligned beforehand. the feeling of your fingers gently but firmly moving his chin back into place whenever he slightly moved was fleeting yet brought him an unfamiliar and uneasy sensation to his stomach.

halfway through, he opened his eyes to see your focused face working. he felt way too awkward to close them again so he was stuck staring right at you, unintentionally gazing at all your features. his overwhelming nervousness practically overtook the pain of the splint being applied and inserted into his nose.

“alright, there! you’re all done now and you’re free to leave,” you declared. rin unconsciously let out a huge sigh of relief before you stopped him from getting up.

“wait hold on.” you took off your gloves and pressed the back of your hand on his forehead, feeling an unusual amount of heat. “are you feeling feverish in any way?”

“no, i’m not,” he answered a lot more shakily and less audible than he wished. god, he really wanted to crawl into a hole right now.

“hmm okay,” you hummed to yourself while observing the flush on his face that he seemingly wasn’t aware of. you then took another glance at him and all the suspicion and concern instantly left your eyes, replaced with something else. a slight smile creeping on your lips. “oh i see… well rin, you can go back now.”

the sudden switch in your tone surprised him but he nodded and got up quickly to head to the door, wanting to leave before his mind could process all these feelings.

when he was already out in the hallway, you rushed to the door and called out for him. “wait, one last thing rin!” your voice made him immediately stop in his tracks to turn and look at you.

“next time, try to avoid picking fights with your own teammates,” you said with a knowing grin, watching the flush on his face deepen, “yeah, i saw the footage. good luck out there and stay safe, number 1.”

you went back inside the infirmary, shutting the door behind you, leaving him out and alone in the hallway. rin sighed and turned around, wondering how he was supposed to return with his face looking like this.

taglist(sign up): @userwithlotsoftime @lucas2060 @kiiyoooo

happy birthdayyy to my beloved edgy bastard!!!! to celebrate, i decided to dig up this lil old prompt i randomly came up with about a month ago or so and finally use it.

[in1-nutshell]

Any mtmte (did I spell that right, I also want rodimus included in it) characters you want, I want to see the bots reaction to bot (gn) buddy that use (still is) to be megatrons sparkmate, and a gladiator before. ���� megatron and buddy still on good terms tho.

Okay... I had a bit too much fun with this one, so its a bit longer than what I usually do my writings. I used a different writing style than what I usually used too. If this isn't what you wanted, please let me know.

Hope you enjoy!

Bot Buddy being Megatron's sparkmate (its complicated) that was a former gladiator with Rodimus Prime, Nautica, and Ravage

SFW, Platonic, Romantic implications, Pre-war Cybertron and Post-war Cybertron mentioned, Cybertronain reader

MTMTE

Megatron had met Buddy while waiting for his next match.

The two had entered a nice conversation before Buddy was called off to their match. That wouldn’t be the last time they would meet each other.

Megatron met Buddy again in the infirmary after a particularly brutal match. Both gladiators had to stay in the med bay for the night. That night was filled with much talking and laughter.

That’s where everything began.

So, the two gladiators began sneaking off to go meet each other and secretly watch each other’s matches.

Despite the circumstances, they made it work.

“Buddy?”--Megatron

“Right here Megatron.”--Buddy

“Perfect timing as usual. How was today’s match?”--Megatron

“Same ol’. Same ol’. What about yours? I heard through the guards todays was particularly spectacular.”--Buddy

“I… showed the crowd my panels.”--Megatron

“You have panels?”--Buddy

“Yes, I know it—”--Megatron

“And you didn’t tell me?! Now you have to show me them!”--Buddy

“Hush! You’ll give away our position!”--Megatron

“And? What do you think the guard will do at this late hour? They’ll be too tired to do anything, plus our biolights are on low. The bot wouldn’t be able to see our faces before he’d see our pedes!”--Buddy

“You know what they would do Buddy. You shouldn’t be so careless.”--Megatron

“Yeah, but still, I bet we can take them together. Assuming you’d be by my side and not using me to give you a head start.”--Buddy

“I would stay by your side, you know that.”--Megatron

“I know. You’d start panicking and worrying if I wasn’t around anyways.”--Buddy

“Maybe I should leave you.”—Megatron

“Oh, Megs, you’ve wounded me!”—Buddy

“But in all seriousness, I would come to you if you’d call.”—Megatron

“…Thanks Megs…”—Buddy

“Don’t call me that.”—Megatron

“Nah.”--Buddy

Buddy was there for many of his major achievements in and outside the ring.

They cheered for him as he basked in the energon of his enemy after a win.

They helped him continue his writing after Terminus disappeared.

They even had the pleasure of meeting his inner circle for the new Decepticon movement he was starting.

“So, this is the infamous Decepticon circle I’ve been hearing about?”--Buddy

“And you are?”--Starscream

“Megatron’s friend. I am a gladiator as well.”--Buddy

“Just friend?”--Thundercracker

“Yes?”--Megatron

“Well just hearing how much you talk about them, we assumed—”--Skywarp

“Why don’t you introduce yourselves first.”--Megatron

“Hey is that-- Buddy!”--Frenzy

“Rumble! Frenzy! Ravage!”—Buddy

“Looking good Buddy.”--Rumble

“What—”--Megatron

“How’s is your arm wound from the fight?”--Ravage

“What arm—”--Megatron

“I thought the guards caught you, guess you gave them the slip huh.”--Frenzy

“Guards?”—Megatron

“Oh, you know me. I never get caught!”--Buddy

“How do you three know each other?”--Megatron

“We met after some drunk bots started fighting dirty with us. Buddy in and used some of their signature moves to gives all a head start. We got some drinks then we split when the guards started coming by the sector.”--Ravage

“Never gonna mess with ya after that display. Truly an artform.”--Frenzy

“It wasn’t that big of a deal.”--Buddy

“Yeah, tell that to the other guy’s servos.”--Rumble

“Wait what happened to—”--Megatron

“ANYWHO! The triplets over there are Starscream, Skywarp, and Thundercracker. Screamer’s the one in red, Warp is the purple one, and Cracker is the blue one.”--Frenzy

“Hello!”--Buddy

“Hi.”--Skywarp

“Buddy.”--Starscream

“Hello.”--Thundercracker

“The purple one over there is Shockwave.”--Frenzy

“Hello!”--Buddy

“Greetings.”--Shockwave

“Don’t take it personally, he doesn’t have his emotions anymore.”--Ravage

“Oh…”--Buddy

“And this is Soundwave!”--Rumble

“Hello!”--Buddy

“Hello.”--Soundwave

Through telepathy. “Really ‘just a friend’.”--Soundwave

Through telepathy. “First, WOW! This is amazing! Second, just give me a couple more cycles! I’m working up the courage… how often does he talk about me? Are they good things?”--Buddy

Through telepathy. “Too much its painful now. Please put us out of our misery.”--Soundwave

Through telepathy. “I hope so, if he does feel the same way.”--Buddy

Through telepathy. “He does, believe me. His thoughts if not thinking about this whole operation and his writings is you. Which is happening a lot more than usual these days.”—Soundwave

“Really?!”—Buddy

“You should hear the poems he thinks about you.”--Soundwave

“Umm… Boss? You’re not threatening Buddy are you?”--Rumble

“Negative. Simply having a chat.”--Soundwave

“Was it?”--Megatron

“It was. You seem to have a strong foundation, Megatron. And with all the followers that are going to come in, the Senate will have to hear you now!”--Buddy

“Hopefully.”--Megatron

“Don’t get so down in the dumps Megs! Have a little faith. A little faith never hurt anyone.”--Buddy

“…Maybe.”--Megatron

“See!”--Buddy

‘He is down bad for them.’—Soundwave and every Decepticon there.

Megatron was pleased to see Buddy get along with his colleagues.

A couple cycles pass he starts getting thoughts about the Conjux ritual. The bot that always comes into his processor is Buddy.

But would Buddy even want that?

What if they didn’t want that?

What if they just wanted to be friends or Amica?

After a few peptalks with Soundwave, he is ready. He believes he is ready to finally begin the first steps.

“Buddy.”--Megatron

“Hey Megs? You don’t usually come by this sector, you know there’s more guards at this time right?”--Buddy

“First of all, don’t call me that. Second, I know its… just meet me at the old oil house tonight.”--Megatron

“Tonight? What happened with next cycle? You already breaking tradition?”--Buddy

“Can you—”--Megatron

“I’m just messing with you Megs. I’ll be there.”--Buddy

“Be careful.”--Megatron

“Please Megs, I’ve never been caught, and I will not get caught. Don’t worry so much.”--Buddy

Everything was going to be all right.

Right?

That night, Buddy was an hour late.

Buddy was always a punctual bot, the most they had been late was a couple minutes late.

Worried, Megatron decided to take things into his own servos. He managed to sneak into their quarters the same route he had done multiple times before.

The entire place was stripped clean.

“Buddy? Buddy!”--Megatron

Silence.

“Buddy this isn’t funny. Come out!”--Megatron

Silence.

“Buddy?”--Megatron

He went to ask the bots in the next room, but no one was there.

The room was also stripped clean.

He went in a frenzy opening door finding the same thing in each one.

He would have been caught by the night guards, if it weren’t for Ravage and Soundwave.

They would later find out that the entire quarter of gladiators in that section had been relocated to another city. But the ship had been ‘accidentally’ taken down as soon as it took off near the city limits. It was clear as day that the ‘accident’ was planned, but no one would investigate a case of nameless gladiators.

There were no survivors.

“I am sorry Megatron. They are gone.”--Soundwave

“…”--Megatron

“Megatron?”--Ravage

“I need some time by myself now.”--Megatron

“…Ravage.”--Soundwave

“On it.”--Ravage

Ravage hadn’t felt such spark break than he had in that moment with Megatron. He and Soundwave had to break the news to the others when they got back to their makeshift base. There was a lot of shock and mourning that happened that night. Everyone tread carefully near Megatron as if he were a ticking time bomb.

Ravage stayed by his friends’ side for a good time before he was deemed fine once again.

Megatron was far from fine.

Megatron was near inconsolable at the beginning. He felt almost as helpless as when Terminus had disappeared. His old friend, Impactor, after hearing the news tried to get him out of this hole. He was lucky enough to get him out of his habsuite and back outside. He took him to Maccadams for a drink.

The rest went downhill from there.

Meanwhile Buddy had actually been transported to a different ship at the last second thanks to an error in the system that no one wanted to fix.

Buddy had been taken to one of the colony ships instead.

The ship set to go to Caminus.

While it was rough to adjust at first, especially after hearing what happened to their ship. Buddy quickly found some friends and began their new life on Caminus. They wanted to build a life on Caminus first and as soon as they got the chance, they would go back to Cybertron, grab Megatron and his friends and have them all live with them on Caminus.

Buddy met three bots named Chromia, Nautica, and Windblade. The three didn’t judge Buddy by their past and made it their goal to help Buddy adjust to Caminus the best they could.

Windblade would go more on the cultural and artistic facts about Caminus, a planet that made Cybertron seem very rough by comparison.

When Chromia found out about Buddy’s fighting career, she wanted to spar.

If it was okay with Buddy after all.

She was not disappointed with the new challenge.

She even managed to get Windblade to join in too.

Nautica was a bit intimidated by Buddy at first but quickly warmed up to them once she saw that Buddy wasn’t a bad bot.

Being the wall flower Nautica was, she didn’t offer buddy to go out in crowded places too often.

Instead, she indulged Buddy in her deep sea findings.

Buddy loved seeing their friends so happy.

They did try and find out more things about Buddy’s past, but with Buddy being vague with the details, they decided that if Buddy did wanted to talk about it, they would on their own time.

“You care to go on another sparring match Buddy?”--Chromia

“Since when have I backed down from that challenge Chromia?”--Buddy

“Well good luck you two—”--Windblade

“And where do you think you’re going Windblade? You’re sparring with us.”--Chromia

“But—”--Windblade

“Maybe if I join in, it won’t be so bad? I could use the warm up.”--Nautica

“Well…”--Windblade

“Well?”--Chromia

“All right. I guess—”--Windblade

“I’m on Buddy’s team!”--Nautica

“Nautica!”--Windblade

Buddy did try and call Megatron, he never answered them. They stopped trying after hearing all the atrocities he was committing on Cybertron. It soon became clear that the Megatron they once knew was gone and replaced with this… awful monster.

Between their work on Caminus and their free time, Buddy did try and keep tabs on Cybertron through the air waves.

Buddy decided to stay neutral for the longest time, not wanting to get involved with politics that no longer concerned them.

That was until on night they had been flying their personal space cruiser when they received a distress signal.

They turned to the signal and saw a red mech flouting around waving his arms around.

Buddy grabbed the mech and pulled him inside the ship.

“Wow, you look like a Sharkticon chewed and spat you out.”--Buddy

“Thanks…”—Hot Rod

“Anyways stranger I’m here to help you with some repairs.”--Buddy

“You’re going to repair me? But you’re a NAIL.”—Hot Rod

“So… your point?”--Buddy

“Don’t you guys hate us, for the war and all?”—Hot Rod

“Kid—”--Buddy

“The names Hot Rod.”—Hot Rod

“Hot Rod, I may not be associated with either of your sides right now or ever, but that doesn’t mean I’m some sparkless bot who’s going to let you bleed all over my ship cold and alone. Now hold still, I know how to repair most of this stuff with what I’ve got so let’s make it count.”--Buddy

“…Thanks…”—Hot Rod

“The names Buddy, Hot Rod.”--Buddy

“Buddy? That’s a… fun name.”—Hot Rod

“Yeah, yeah, it was supposed to be a mean nickname for me back in the old days for my ‘friendly’ personality, but jokes on them, I liked it better than my actual name, so I adopted it.”--Buddy

“Oh!”—Hot Rod

“So, what actually chewed and spat you out because these dents are definitely bite marks.”--Buddy

“It’s a long story.”—Hot Rod

“I’ve got time and enough fuel to get you to…”--Buddy

“Junkion—Wait you’re going to fly me there?”—Hot Rod

“Sure, I got free time.”--Buddy

“And you’re willing to help a stranger get to a planet near enemy territory? Aren’t you afraid of getting caught in the crossfires?”—Hot Rod

“Roddy, if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that I don’t get caught. Never have and never will.”--Buddy

The two had a nice time together while flying.

When Buddy touched down on the planet, they gave him their personal commline in case he was ever blow up into space again. He smiled widely and waved good-bye before racing out to join his group.

Buddy simple took off feeling a bit lonelier on the ship than before. In small solidarity of their little Autobot friend, Buddy decided to get a small Autobot insignia on the inside of their arm.

Time skip after the war and Nautica and Velocity had joined the Lost Light.

Buddy was feeling a bit lonely on Caminus now.

Chromia and Windblade were frequently going to Cybertron now that Starscream had requested their help in speaking with Metroplex. How either didn’t tell Starscream that Buddy was on Caminus was beyond them.

Nautica did call every now and then.

Even Velocity had managed a call or two.

Mainly talks about the science staff and the medical staff on this crazy ship.

Buddy wanted a change. This ship sounded like the change they needed, at least for a little bit.

Buddy packed their things and left the planet on their cruiser looking for the star ship.

It took a while of flying before the giant star ship of the Lost Light came into view.

Buddy hailed in the ship and was received with a talk from the ship’s captain.

“This is the Lost Light. Please state your business.”—Magnus

“Hello, this the space cruiser 1232024, permission to come aboard?”--Buddy

“…You sound familiar. Who are you?”--Rodimus

“My name is Buddy—”--Buddy

“Wait Buddy?! Buddy from Caminus? Wow! It’s been a while!”--Rodimus

“I’m sorry?”--Buddy

“Excuse him, he might think you might be someone else.”--Magnus

“No, you patched up a red mech during the war with pieces of their hull.”—Rodimus

“How do you know that?”—Buddy

“Well, I would be a horrible bot if I didn’t remember who saved me those years ago in space.”--Rodimus

“Oh Primus! Roddy is that you?!”--Buddy

“Yeah! Well, I go by Rodimus Prime now, but yeah come aboard!”--Rodimus

Buddy was greeted by Rodimus and Ultra Magnus at the docking entrance.

Rodimus is pulled into an armor denting hug. Buddy is relieved that their small Autobot friend was okay after all this time.

A former Prime too.

Buddy shook their servo with Ultra Magnus and greeted him politely.

Magnus has gained a friend.

Magnus is going to treasure this friend.

Finally, someone else on this ship that knows decent manners!

“So, what brings you in? You need some oil?”--Rodimus

“No thank you, I’m actually here to ask if I could join you and your crew on your quest.”--Buddy

“Really!”--Rodimus

“Really?”--Magnus

“Yes! I’ve heard about it through some friends of mine that are crewmates of yours. Nautica mainly.”--Buddy

“Yes, you can join! Welcome on aboard. I can comm in Nautica if you want.”--Rodimus

“Oh, that won’t be necessary Captain.”--Buddy

“Why?”--Rodimus

“Well, it kind of defeats the purpose of surprising someone if they know what the surprise is.”--Buddy

“Oookay! I got it! Magnus!”--Rodimus

“Rodimus--”--Magnus

“Call in for an audience in the bridge. We have a dramatic entrance to make.”--Rodimus

Rodimus leaving to the bridge.

“I don’t remember him being this energetic. But he did have though injuries.”--Buddy

“Get used to it, as Co-Captain he loves his role.”--Magnus

“Co-captain? Is that even a term?”--Buddy

“It is now. And welcome aboard.”--Magnus

“Thank you, Ultra Magnus.”—Buddy

Buddy soon was with Ultra Magnus behind one of the bridges blindside chatting about stories that happened before Nautica came aboard.

Apparently, they were going to have a rather unorthodox travel. They started loving this ship more then before.

Buddy would sometimes slip a glance out from their hiding space to see the crowd of Bots around them.

A familiar purple bot caught their optics. Buddy couldn’t hold back the fond smile coming onto their faceplate.

But something else caught their optic.

It was a streak of black, but Buddy could have sworn they had seen that bot before.

“What are you looking at?”--Magnus

“I found Nautica, which is amazing and all, but I thought I saw someone else.”--Buddy

“Who did you think you saw?”--Magnus

“I thought I saw—”--Buddy

“Buddy?!”--Ravage

“No, that’s me, but—wait…”--Buddy

“Ravage what are you doing here? You’re supposed to wait with the others down—”--Magnus

“Buddy! You’re alive!”--Ravage

“Ravage?! Wow! I haven’t seen you—”--Buddy

Ravage leaping to Buddy’s face, but Buddy quickly catches him and keeps him at arms length.

“Ravage!”--Magnus

“Hold it Magnus. Ravage—”--Buddy

“We mourned for you! Do you have any idea what happened when you left? Where did you go? Did someone kidnap you? Tortured you? Put you in a stasis chamber? What?! What happened?!”--Ravage

Buddy pulling Ravage close to their chassis.

“It is good to see you, my friend.”--Buddy

“…I’m not helping you with what happens next when you meet him.”--Ravage

“Meet who?”--Buddy

“You mean they haven’t told you yet?”--Ravage

“Told me what?”--Buddy

“Who do you think the Co-Captains are?”--Ravage

“Rodimus and Magnus?”--Buddy

“I’m not a Co-Captain.”--Magnus

“Really? Because it looked like you’d be one of the bots in charge of things around here.”--Buddy

“I am, however, I am not the other Co-Captain.”--Magnus

“Then who—”--Buddy

“—and without further or do. Here is our newest crewdition!”--Rodimus

“I guess this is my cue. See you in a minute Ravage.”--Buddy

Buddy putting down Ravage down and walking to the main part of the bridge.

“Wait! He doesn’t know they’re here!”--Ravage

“Who doesn’t know?”—Magnus

Buddy turned the corner and saw a sea of bots looking up at them. They saw many curious optics looking over at their frame. The first thing they heard was the familiar sound of Nautica squealing. Buddy saw Nautica making her way up to reach Buddy with Velocity trailing behind her.

The second sound Buddy heard was a loud gasp next to them. Buddy turned and saw the last mech they would have expected being there.

Megatron, in all of his gunmetal glory, stood next to Rodimus. Optics trained on Buddy as Buddy looked back with the same intensity.

Nautica stopped seeing Buddy looking at Megatron like they saw a ghost…

Oh!

Oh!

This made sense now.

Buddy had always mentioned a certain gladiator back in the old days with much fondness. She always teased Buddy from time to time about the little love, but Buddy wouldn’t do much to say otherwise.

Of course, it was Megatron! He matched too many of the stories Buddy had told her from time to time.

She looked back at Buddy as she began moving forward slowly to the ex-warlord.

“Buddy? Is that you?”--Megatron

Buddy picking up the pace a little bit.

“By the Prime’s it is you! But, how? You’re ship! The whole thing had engulfed in flames!”--Megatron

Buddy sprinting opening their arms out.

Megatron reactively opened his arms out too.

Buddy grabbing said arm and judo flipping the mech onto his back with a pede on his throat.

“THAT WAS FOR NEVER ANSWERING ME BACK YOU SON OF A TURBOFOX!”--Buddy

“Woah!”--Rodimus

“Hold it, hold it!”--Velocity

“That’s kind of hot.”--Whirl

“Not now Whirl.”--Nautica

Buddy getting off of Megatron and single handedly helping him up so they could hug him.

“This is for…for…”--Buddy

“Buddy…”--Megatron

“Hey Megs, I told you I wouldn’t get caught.”--Buddy

“I shouldn’t have doubted you, for a second.”--Megatron

“Finally learning your lesson?”--Buddy

“Maybe.”--Megatron

“…FINALLY!”--Ravage

“Yes!”--Nautica

“What. The.—”--Rodimus

“Rodimus language!”--Magnus

“I have a right!”--Rodimus

“Hey Buddy! Flip me next!”—Whirl

[solarisfortuneia]

wc: 680. the good ol' 'royalty x healer' trope. warnings: mentions of injury.

please, end me, the words were not wording for this one i give up hjsjsdh @xianyoon

you inch past the embroidered draperies at the entrance, careful not to make a sound. the afternoons at the infirmary tended to be slow, with the patients fast asleep after their doses of medicine, and you wouldn’t want to risk waking them up. there are lesser hells than the wrath of the head nurse.

but more importantly, you’d rather not bump into the court doctor himself. 

you knew he was well-respected, incredibly skilled, and very capable. every single patient of his sung his praises. you’d often seen him work from afar, and you agree with their evaluations; he was, truly, one of the best doctors in the kingdom.

but for some very peculiar reason, your heart never seems to settle when dr. baizhu is in the room. 

you can never pinpoint why, though. 

luckily, if your memory served correctly, the spare first aid kits should be in the storeroom not too far from the entrance of the room itself. it’d be a quick trip, you’d grab the supplies and leave a note, then make your way back to your room. in and out; no encounters or disturbances needed.

you swing open the doors to the cupboards quickly so that the hinges don’t creak too loudly, and start scanning the shelves for the familiar red of the pharmacy’s first aid kits. 

“may i ask what you are doing, your highness?” the sudden voice makes you jump, causing you to knock down a few bottles of disinfectant, along with some wooden storage boxes. 

you turn, sheepishly, thinking it was one of the nurses, only to come face to face with a man clad head to toe in doctor’s robes, green hair lit by the afternoon sun from a nearby window, glasses perched on his nose with his snake companion wrapped around his neck. oh, no. it's doctor baizhu.

your heart diverts from its regular rhythm.

“i’m just looking for a first aid kit,” you answer, after he tilts his head questioningly, his steady amber eyes never leaving your face. it is then that his gaze travels to the gash on your bicep, and one of his eyebrows quirks up. 

“a sparring injury,” you tell him, by way of explanation, as he sets the bottles back where they belong.

“i see. allow me,” he says, opening a kit and pulling out a roll of bandage cloth. “that wound could get infected if not taken care of properly, your highness.”

“it is only a flesh wound, doctor. i can handle it on my own, there’s no need for you to trouble yourself.”

“i insist, your highness.” he says firmly, with no room for argument. you acquiesce, following him to the washbasin. he turns his back to saturate a cloth with water, and you use that opportunity to take a deep, silent breath, willing your heart to calm down. yet the irregular rhythm still persists.

why am i feeling this way? you wonder, as he moves to clean and disinfect your wound. is it because he’s intimidating? maybe it’s the snake around his neck?

you make eye contact with the ruby eyes of the pale snake around his neck, looking curiously at you.

yeah, probably the snake.

his hand brushes the bare skin of your upper arm, a practiced, meticulous touch; he treats you exactly the same as he would any other patient, yet the momentary contact makes waves of warmth radiate down to your fingers. you look up from the floor, and his eyes lock with your own. it sends tingles down your spine, and you have to hold back a shiver.

that’s when you know.

oh. oh. it’s not the snake. 

the realization makes you freeze in place. you’re pretty sure he can feel the goosebumps running down your skin.

“be more careful, your highness.” he sends a slight smile your way, just a soft movement of his lips, and all you can do is nod in a daze.

oh, gods above. you have a thing for the court doctor.

[forabeatofadrum]

Ever After (5/21)

Notes: In this chapter, you notice that The Cooper Chronicles are a book series from the 90s, because there will be some ableist language and what not. Similar things will pop up throughout the fic, since, ya know, things didn't age well from The Cooper Chronicles. Good ole B.D. Dalton has declined to comment for now.

AO3 | S&C

–

FIXTURE

Blaine’s life continues. His days are filled with practising alchemy in order to turn it into his Passion, prince duties, reading and meeting up with his friends. He knows that Kurt is still at the infirmary. The staff update him and his parents on Kurt’s condition, since the queen requested that. Blaine almost wants to tell the staff to stop.

But he is curious. He cannot deny that. Blaine tries to ignore Kurt, but he’s a fixture in his life now. Blaine keeps thinking about what Kurt said, especially when David sends him a bird with the first chapter of a possible book about Cooper’s life.

It’s terribly written, but that’s not the point.

Kurt’s healthy and all right, thanks to Blaine, but he’s still in the infirmary for his confusion. No one knows where he came from, so they also cannot help him get home. Kurt keeps mentioning names like New York, America, Earth, but Blaine’s consulted the huge digital atlas in the castle’s library and there are no kingdoms or empires or whatever nations that bear those names.

When Cooper and his posse visit home, he’s also told about Kurt.

“I can see if I can help him,” Cooper tells his parents.

“Please do. He seems to long for home, but we do not know how to help him,” the queen says.

So Cooper and his wife Arasha go to the infirmary, but he comes back later, looking defeated.

“Mother, I know it might sound rude, put to put it plainly, I think we have a lunatic in the infirmary,” he says.

“Oh my,” the queen gasps, “Poor man. I wonder what happened to him!”

“Did you use your magic?” the king asks.

Cooper nods.

“Of course I did, father.”

The king looks deep into thought.

“I was trying to find a position for him in the castle, so that he could at least leave the infirmary and start a life in Daltonia while we find a way home for him, but this changes things.”

“Can he live on his own?” the queen wonders.

“Mother, are you suggesting that we confine him?” Blaine asks. The thought makes him uneasy. Sure, Kurt’s words make no sense, and it greatly upset Blaine, but he doesn’t know if he agrees with Cooper’s assessment.

“Maybe. If it’s for the best.”

“The best for who?” Blaine asks.

Cooper sighs.

“Blaine, I have met many people who couldn’t be saved. I wish it weren’t this way, but some people cannot be left unsupervised.”

“And you think Kurt is one of those people?”

“He’s talking as if he’s from another world!” Cooper says back.

Another world? That does sound insane to Blaine’s ears. Even with Cooper’s All Power, which is the most powerful magic in the world, there’s never been a reason to believe there’s another world. This is the world. That’s it.

But Kurt mentioned places that don’t seem to exist. Did he make them up? Or does he believe them to be real?

Even so, confining him seems wrong. He just wants to go home, wherever that is.

“Father, mother, you cannot…”

Blaine’s father holds up his hand.

“We will not make any rash decisions. We cannot call anyone a lunatic and confine him without a proper assessment. That wouldn’t be fair. But we must at least consider it.”

Okay, so Blaine has time.

Time to warn Kurt.

--

“Blaine, what a surprise,” Kurt says, “It’s been a week since you ran out.”

“Oh. Uh. Hi,” Blaine says awkwardly, “Sorry. I’ve been busy.”

“Gosh, I wish that were me. I am bored out of my mind,” Kurt laments, “Nurse Marcus gave me one of those nifty digital books, so I have been reading. It’s nifty that good ole B.D. Dalton already came up with ebooks, in the nineties! But man, I just want to leave. But people seem to think I am mentally unwell or something.”

Blaine cannot argue with that. Cooper said it himself.

Speaking of…

“My brother visited you,” Blaine says.

Kurt laughs.

“Yup. That’s Cooper of Daltonia. He sold it. It almost makes me believe this is real, especially when he used that magic.”

“You still believe this to be a dream.”

Kurt sighs.

“Honestly, Blaine… I start to doubt it. I don’t think dreams can be this long. But what other explanation is there? I’ve been telling myself this is a dream to keep sane, but… I don’t know how much longer…”

Kurt seems really upset by this, so Blaine needs to choose his words carefully, but how can you be careful in this weird situation?

“Maybe… this is another world?” Blaine says, thinking about what Cooper said.

“Another world?” Kurt sounds sceptical, “Sure.”

“You don’t think so?”

“It sounds straight from a-” Kurt cuts himself off.

“From a?” Blaine prompts.

“A story,” Kurt says, voice strained, “From a work of fiction. Like The Cooper Chronicles.”

“But we don’t, uh, have other worlds.”

And Daltonia isn’t fictional, but Blaine keeps that comment to himself.

“True,” Kurt frowns, “There’s never been a multiverse storyline in The Cooper Chronicles, and boy oh boy, there are a lot of extras. But if it isn’t a dream, or a prank, then… a different world sounds like the most logical thing.”

Nothing about this is logical, but Kurt knows that too.

“Then how do we get you back to your world?” Blaine asks, “Assuming this theory is true.”

“I have no clue,” Kurt sounds defeated, “I guess we just need time to figure it out.”

But time is a thing they might not have. Everyone seems to believe that something is wrong with Kurt’s mind, and Blaine cannot blame them, he did so too (and still does, since all of this sounds too weird!), but that means that even if the king and queen aren’t going to immediately confine Kurt into a place for lunatics, it will happen. Every doctor or professional will say that something is wrong with him.

Blaine tells Kurt this, and he watches how Kurt’s face morphs from confusion to shock.

“They want to lock me up?” Kurt whispers.

Basically. It’s not the word Cooper and Blaine’s parents use, but yes.

“That can’t happen,” Kurt sounds distressed, but he tries to keep his face neutral so that the nurses or doctor don’t come asking what’s wrong.

“I’m sorry,” Blaine says quietly, “The Royal family can do these things.”

Kurt stares into space for a while, and Blaine gives him time to process this. After a while, Kurt leans towards Blaine.

“You’re Royal too, right? You’re Blaine of Daltonia.”

“Yes?”

“Then get me out of here. Now.”

[bruiserelliot]

I'm absolutely obsessed with the @professorhephaestus Solar Trials world and I love me some good hurt/comfort so I tried to do full comfort.

Context: the trio (Jenny, Teddy, and Eigan fought a big bear made of ice or something on Pluto and got good hits in and won but still got their asses kicked and this is some time after that)

Teddy groaned as he opened his eyes, trying to get his eardrums to work again. He could smell that really clean wood smell that came from the infirmary. Oh, that's good, ship was good.

Less good was the way everything felt heavy, just just really heavy and achey. And cold. Ohh, cold. Right.

Note to self: don't fight a space ice bear with a shit casting wheel. Bad time.

Any other note taking that might've gone on in his head stopped when a bright light shone in his eyes. He squinted at the person he could now see standing over him.

"Eigan?"

"I'm afraid not, Theodore, the prince is still recovering from your... unfortunate encounter with the Ursa Polaris." Teddy rubbed at his eyes, resisting the urge to groan again when he was finally able to get his vision to focus on professor Hephaestus. He looked... Weird. Like, less put together than usual. Course for him that meant a few locs out of place and a wrinkle or two in his fancy cloak, but like, Teddy could see it.

"You three, I take my eyes off you for a second and boom, gone. Off fightin a polar bear," a grumble came from beside the professor, and thankfully with a little less effort, Teddy could see captain Aubrey. "I'm glad you and Jenny noticed Eigan wanderin off but maybe next time bring him back instead'a followin him."

"Sorry doc, gotta do it, for science. No, woman, or martian left behind," Teddy replied, not bothering to sit up, or acknowledge the small smile Captain Aubrey graced him with.

Oh shit, no woman left behind. "Is Jenny-"

"She's fine, Teddy, pulled the two of you outta trouble with that cast of flame."

"Truly exemplary work," professor Hephaestus said. Teddy closed his eyes, ready for the inevitable comparison, but it didn't come. Small mercies.

He looked down at the thick blanket covering him.

"Thanks. That, that's good. Glad she's okay... Eigan's okay, right?" He fiddled with the blanket's edge.

"Eigan's resting up in his room. Finally got him to lie down," captain Aubrey muttered, sounding further away, then close again. "Stubborn kid didn't wanna leave you alone." He smiled down at Teddy and Teddy absolutely did not blush, no, no he didn't. Absolutely not. He was feverish, definitely feverish. Yeah, from fighting the ice bear.

"Theodore, I must commend you for your quick thinking in battling the Ursa Polaris," the professor spoke up. "A large, though admittedly ineffective casting wheel, was... Clever."

Teddy opened his eyes, blinking the spots away as he focused on the professor. Was that? A compliment?

The professor wasn't meeting his eyes, and his Rector crook was turning a bit in his hands. Shit was the prof being nice? Had he been worried? Y'know what, no, his head hurt too much for this, he was probably worried about Eigan and Jenny, and Teddy... Well he apparently did something right.

He could live with that.

"Uh... Thanks? I think."

"You're welcome. Kindly recuperate in a timely manner... If possible." Teddy raised an eyebrow as the Martian left, fixing his locs on the way out. Captain Aubrey chuckled.

"That man, I swear sometimes." He turned back to Teddy. "What he means is, ya done good kid. Feel better, and quit worryin us." He passed Teddy a mug of tea, helping the boy sit up. Teddy gratefully held his chilled nose over the tea. Thank god for Captain Aubrey, martian social skills were tough to decipher on a good day. Give him Dr. Aubrey's good ol' southern hospitality to smooth everything over any day.

"Thanks doc."

"Sure kid."

[winniemaywebber]

Honeysuckle Rose • Part 6

part one part two part three part four part five

masterlist olive's playlist

taglist: @sagesolsticewrites @ginabaker1666 @hephaestn @manonsmanicmind @derry-rain @bobparkhurst @bloodynereid @archival-hogwash

Departing the club into the cool night air, Olive sees Val smoking outside. 

“You ready for bed, doll?” She asks, handing her the cigarette.

“Not yet, Val,” she sighs, taking a puff. “Tonight was kind of overwhelming. Need to take a walk.”

“Sure thing, Ol. See you in there, okay? Be careful.”

“I’m always careful,” she replies, kissing her friend gently on the cheek. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” she says, stubbing the cigarette against the wall of the club. “I had a good talk with Ev and I feel much better.” She crosses her arms in order to shield herself from the cold British air she still wasn’t quite used to. “It bites a lot more than a Brooklyn breeze,” she had told her new friend the night prior. “Bites you right on the ass, and for what?”

“This isn’t going to get easier, is it?” Olive asks, looking out into the night sky. “The worrying, the constant knot in my stomach every time I see that damn red light.” 

“No,” she says pointedly, that furrow forming. “It doesn’t. But then you see him again and the relief - God, there’s nothing like it. Someone could bottle that feeling, sell it and be a millionaire, Olive.” 

“I didn’t plan on feeling like this…for anyone. Here or–” She stops herself before going too far.

“That’s what this war does, doll. Messes up every plan.” She picks her body up from the wall and starts to walk towards their hut. “That’s a story for another night, though. You still taking that walk?” Olive nods, knowing she has to go home at some point to check on Pearl, despite the thought tearing her apart. What if every time she leaves is a potential goodbye? The idea of that is like a punch to the gut, sending her head spinning. 

“I’ll leave water on your table. Prevent the hangover.”

“Thanks, Val. Wait, where’s Helen?”

“Curt offered to walk her home,” she says, rolling her eyes. 

“Oop,” Olive giggles. “Curt suddenly keen on our girl?”

“Yes, but she’s not keen on him like that. She’s smart, and wholesome. A respectable young lady. Far too sweet for that pain in the ass. Besides,” she pauses. “She’d never live it down with us if she got the clap from him.”

—

Walking as quickly as possible to the hardstand, Olive breathlessly makes it to Just A-Snappin. Taking one last glance around to make sure nobody is looking, she opens the door as silently as possible.

“Hey, Ol,” Kenny says, startling her. “Whatcha doin’ all the way out here? It’s late. Don’t ya have an early start?”

“I–I do, uhm–” Her heart beating in her chest at a million miles an hour, willing him to turn around and get back to whatever he was working on. “Kenny, I need to get home,” she says simply. Kenny shakes his head in confusion, pointing towards the Red Cross hut.

“Thatta way, friend. You okay? I can walk ya.”

“N-no, Kenny,” she points into the aircraft, knowing she’s been caught out. “This is my way home.”

“I’m not followin’,” he responds, astounded. “Ya live here, with all of us. Where are ya–”

“80 years away.”

“How much did you drink?” He asks, his tone suddenly stern and serious. “Olive, you’re scarin’ me, girl.”

“Not that much, Ken. Remember what Tat said the other day, how I just seemingly appeared out of thin air?”

“Yeah?”

“Well…she was correct. I opened a door in my time and, when it opened, I fell here.”

“What in the–”

“You don’t have to believe me, Ken. I know it all sounds absolutely insane, and honestly, I’m having a hard time grasping it, too. But when I’m here, I feel like I belong and it’s as if all the pieces of my life suddenly fit together. But, I have to go home and check on my grandma. You’ll open that door in two minutes and I’ll be gone. Do you understand?”

“Olive, this is crazy talk. Let me drive you to the infirmary. I think someone’s slipped ya somethin’, y’know, in your drink.”

“Kenny…I promise, I’m telling you the truth. What’s gonna make you believe me?”

“I dunno, Ol, I’m just so–” he sighs. “Bring something back with ya, something from wherever it is you’re from. A gadget of some kind, anything.” 

“I got it. Don’t tell anyone else, okay? I’m not ready for people to know yet.”

“Cross ma heart. You strange Brit.” He pauses, deep in thought. “Don’t suppose you can tell me who wins the World Series in ten years?”

“Kenny, I believe that’s not allowed. Not really clear on the rules of time travel but I think that’s the type of stuff that gets the privilege taken from you.”

“Well, darn.”

“I thought you’d be more interested in knowing who wins all this.”

“Nah, I want that to be a surprise. Want a boost?”

“Are you humoring me, Ken Lemmons?”

“Yes, I am. Cos this is insane.”

“Oh, I know. Go on then, give me a hand. My abdomen is shot from clambering up by myself.”

“So, see you–when?”

“Well, later, I guess. Haven’t quite worked out the maths yet.”

“Why the hell do y’all add the S?”

“Goodnight, Ken!” The door slams, and the last sound she hears as it’s shut is the sound of Kenny’s laughter. 

—

The second Joan hears the gate click outside of Pearl’s house, she’s out the door like a shot.

“Joan?” Olive says, confused at the rush. “Everything okay?”

“She’s in a foul mood today, Olive. Tread carefully.”

“For fuck sake,” she says, under her breath. Entering the house, she can feel the tension from the hallway.

“Grandma?” She calls, placing her patent shoes by the door. Just this moment realizing she’s still in her Red Cross gear, she works on formulating an explanation.

“And where have you been, missy?”

“Work?”

“Don’t get smart with me, young lady. You’re not old enough to have a job. And where is that mother of yours? She was meant to take me shopping today.”

“Oh, shit. Grandma, sit down.” She guides her to her armchair, sitting in front of her as quickly as she can. “Grandma, look at me. Mum isn’t here, remember? She–” Olive feels the words stuck in her throat, this being the first time in a long, long time that Pearl has had a moment like this. “She and Ian moved to South Africa. For his job, do you remember? Then I left London to come be with you.”

“In London? Alone? Why would they let you do that, chicken? You’re only fourteen.”

“Pearl, I’m twenty-five now. Remember, you sent me a card? It had butterflies on it, pink butterflies and flowers.”

“No, Olive. No, no, no,” she yells, swiping everything off her side table in a rage. Grabbing her arm as gently as possible, Olive tries to get Pearl to calm down.

“Grandma, please! Getting this het up won’t help things. Please, Pearl.” Her eyes suddenly glaze over, a deep breath leaving her chest, her free hand suddenly clung to Olive.

“Hello, chicken. When did you come home?”

“J-just a minute ago,” Olive stutters, trying to bring her nerves back to their regular setting. “Joan went home, said you were in quite the mood today.”

“Well, what about?”

“M-maybe you woke up on the wrong side of the bed,” she winces, teeth gritted almost comically. 

“Oh, bloody hell,” she droops, chin on her chest. “Did it happen again?”

“Yeah, girly. It did.”

“Was it a bad one?”

“Eh, not the worst I’ve seen. Joan may have over exaggerated a little as she ran down the lane all jangly.”

“That explains why she stopped bringing me biscuits with my tea.”

“You want another? I’m sure we’ve got some Jammie Dodgers snaffled away somewhere.”

“You’re a good girl, Olive. My Ollie Pop.” She strokes her granddaughter’s hand, wiping a tear away with her free one. “I friggin’ hate this. This getting old nonsense.”

“I know, Pearly.”

“This costume is different. They change your job?”

“Oh!” Olive says, looking down at herself. “Turns out I’m much more suited to serving coffee and donuts than raking hay. I prefer it, too.”

“Then I shall live vicariously through you, my girl.” She pauses for a second. “You know, looking like you do right now, it’s like you just jumped here from the war.”

“Pearly, you don’t know the half of it.”

—

“Goodnight, Grandma,” she murmurs, stroking Pearl’s head as she drifts off to sleep, the same way she’d soothe Olive after a nightmare years ago. She pulls the blankets over her swollen legs, the veins more obvious than ever before. Her hands, beginning to droop with arthritis are clasped together under her face, her face a picture of total contentment. 

Olive smiles at the sight, willing her to be able to somehow live forever. As she exits the bedroom, she hears the front door open with a soft click. 

“Jesus, Kyle!” She gasps, shocked to the bone for the second time that day. “Fucking knock next time.”

“Thought I’d surprise you.”

“And what if I wasn’t here, dickhead? You’d have given a poor old woman a heart attack.”

“Well, if my grandma’s home then I’m going to assume you’re here, so…fuck sake, Olive, I just wanted to show up and maybe–”

“Maybe what?”

“Talk? I’ve been so lonely without you and–”

“Oh, don’t bloody start all that. It’s late and I need to sleep.”

“It’s only seven. Look, I brought your favorite,” he holds out a bottle of rose wine, the logo all too familiar to Olive.

“Haven’t drank that in years. Not since–” she stops herself, not wanting to relive the memory of the bile crawling up her throat when she’d drunkenly found Kyle and her best friend in bed together. “Gives me heartburn.”

“Please, let me explain.”

“It’s been five years, Kyle. I can promise you, I’m over it. I haven’t given it a second thought up until I saw you on the train. Not seeing you helped me forget.”

“I just want you to forgive me,” he whimpers, his face crumpling. 

“Would that make you go home?” He steps towards her, now holding her against the wall as he places the bottle on the side table of the hallway. His arms cage her in, his nose coming to touch hers. “Yes. That, and some alone time with you.” Feeling her whole body cringe at the thought of someone else that close to her that isn’t the man she desires, she feels her body seize up before fight or flight kicks in. 

“Fuck off, Kyle,” she yells, pushing him away with such force that it winds him. “Now get out.”

“Fine,” he yells, but relenting. “Bitch.”

“Oh, no, how ever will I live with that on my shoulders,” she says, slamming the door behind him. Covering her face with her hands, she weeps, wishing the night away so she can rush back to where she belongs. Home, with her friends.

—

“Teach your grandson to knock before he enters people’s houses, please, Joan,” Olive says flatly as she enters for the day. She stares back, blinking wildly, utterly flabbergasted.

“He didn’t, did he? He said he’d phone you first.”

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t invite people over without us talking about it first. I received no such phone call, no notice whatsoever. If he pulls this again, I’ll be calling the police.”

“I-I understand. But, Olive, if you’d just hear him out.”

“No, thank you,” she says, putting her shoes on and tucking her phone into her pocket. “Pearl is still sleeping. Yesterday was rough for her so she may sleep in a little. Let her. Do not tell her about last night. I don’t want to worry her.”

“Yes, of course. Bye, Olive,” she tries to say as cheerfully as possible, a smile plastered on her face. Olive closes the door behind her with a slam, just ready for a new day with the people she was growing to care about most, besides Pearl. Practically running down the lane, Thorpe Abbotts in her line of sight, she hopes she is early enough to not see anyone else. Exactly as she expected, she sees a side gate open with no human presence. Creeping in so as to not attract attention, she sees the aircraft door open already. Scolding herself for leaving it like that, she hoists herself in and slams it shut. Clamping her eyes shut and taking that big deep breath, she feels the scenery change, the sun only just beginning to rise. 

Jumping from the plane, she sees Kenny stood, waiting. 

“How did I do?”

“I lost track of time. What d’ya got?” 

Olive buries her hand in her pocket and pulls out her phone. “This is a phone, Ken.”

“No, it ain’t. It ain’t got all them wires and cords and no way to hold it.” Olive unlocks it in Ken’s hand, him almost dropping it in surprise.

“Christ, Lemmons, be careful. This thing cost me an arm and a leg.”

“I’ll bet. Wait, what’s this button do?”

“That, is a camera.”

“Get outta here, Olive.”

“Seriously. Look.” She opens the app, tapping the arrow to put it into selfie mode. “Look, there’s you.”

“Well, I’ll be damned,” he says, admiring himself in it. “I look good this mornin’. I know my sweetheart would eat it up.”

“I’m sure she would, Ken,” she says, as he hands the phone back to her and clasps the heart shaped locket that dangles around his neck. “So, you comfortable with being the secret keeper?”

“Sure, I ain’t gonna tell nobody. A cold beer brought out here every now and then buys my silence.”

“You’re on.”

—

Creeping into the hut carefully, she luckily finds her two friends in a deep slumber. Helen, snoring softly in one bed and Val twitching a little as she dreams in another. “Hmm…” she purrs as she turns over. “That's nice, Ev.” Olive stifles a giggle as she sits on her bed, pulling The Tempest from the shelf behind her. Gulping the water Val had left out for her and smoking her first cigarette of the day, she begins to read her favorite passage. 

“...As I foretold you, were all spirits and

Are melted into air, into thin air;

And, like the baseless fabric of this vision,

The cloud-capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces,

The solemn temples, the great globe itself,

Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve,

And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,

Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff 

As dreams are made on: and our little life 

Is rounded with a sleep.”

—

Olive sees the boys strolling past the Clubmobile on their way to the morning briefing, as she and the girls set up for the day, filling carafes of coffee, setting donuts out on their tray with napkins sitting pretty next to them. Val was busy arranging the candy bars, them stacked upon each other in piles of threes so they didn’t topple over. Helen was counting paper cups, ensuring there would be enough for the first round of airmen to visit them. 

“Ol,” Val calls, her head buried in the newest issue of Screen Romances, momentarily pausing to alert her friend of the pilot and his dog coming towards the truck. “Benny.” She nods, wiping her hands upon her jumpsuit to clear them of any sugary dust or coffee grounds.

“Morning, Benny! Morning, goodest boy! How are we today?”

“Good, thanks, Ol. You?”

“Wonderful as always. D’you need me to watch the fella?”

“It’s what I was coming over to ask. That, and a sneaky early cup of coffee.”

“You’ll get yours at the same time as everyone else, DeMarco. Can’t have people accusing me of playing favorites; you might get me in trouble,” she replies with a wink.

“Wouldn’t want that now, would I?” He replies with a smile, handing the leash over to Olive. “Be good now, yeah? No tearing up boxes, no biting Ms Tattie’s ankles.” He strokes the dog, making a kissy face at him as the dog licks his face just once. “That goes for you, as well, Miss Olive.” 

“Me?” She replies, her hand on her chest in pretend shock. “I am always a delight, thank you very much!”

“That you are. See you after.”

Olive loosely ties Meatball’s leash around a pole that sits next to the Clubmobile, him panting excitedly as she does so, followed by a look of disappointment on his sweet face when he realizes he's not here for playtime. 

“Oh, don't give me that, poppet. We'll go find Kenny and Winks later, yeah? Maybe we'll play here a little while your guy is occupied, ‘kay?”

With a pat on his soft body, she starts to make her way back up the steps of the truck when she feels two hands tickle her waist, making her jump.

“James Douglass!” she squeals, turning around and pretending to clout him as he laughs loudly. “I almost jumped out of my damn skin!” Her eyebrows begin to furrow, her mouth beginning to form into a small pout.

“Hmm, me too,” he replies, his voice soft and his breath closer to her cheek. “How is it you look this good every morning?”

“Hey, now. I’m sorry. I was just messin’. I’m sorry, honey,” he pouts right back, kissing her cheek. “How’s my girl this morning?”

“Good. Better for seeing you,” she says, looking up at him a little seductively. 

“Magic,” she replies, winking. “It's called mascara and rouge. I look like I've been dragged through a hedge backwards when I first wake up - not a pretty sight.”

“I'd love to be the judge of that,” he replies, blushing just a little at the thought of them spending a morning together. “I gotta go. Don’t wanna be late.”

“Yes, go,” she urges, her hand on his face. She stares at him intently, her attention turning to his best features. “You have such pretty eyes, James,” she breathes, her thumb caressing his cheek. 

“Not as pretty as yours,” he winks, two fingers under her chin. Pressing a kiss to her palm as he takes it from his face, he begins to walk away. “I’ll be back for my coffee, pretty thing.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

—

Meatball starts to get antsy the same minute the briefing starts in the opposing building, his lead clanging on the pole it is tied to as he tries to escape, huffing at every unsuccessful attempt to break free.

“Come on, fella,” Olive laughs, untying him once her morning tasks are complete. “Wanna throw a ball?” He pants in response, practically about to stand on his hind paws as he sees the ball emerge from Olive’s pocket. She throws it gently, floppy at the wrist so it stays within range and Meatball can't suddenly dart away. 

“Why don't you go over to the hardstand?” Val calls from the window of the Clubmobile, waiting for the fresh coffee to brew in time for the boys leaving their briefing. 

“I don’t wanna have to traipse all the way there to then come all the way back in ten minutes. I wanna see them before they go.”

“Anyone in particular you wanna see?”

“Hush it up, DiRosano,” she winks, handing her the ball as she joins them.

“At least he’s behaving today,” Val says as she takes the ball from Olive. She throws it a little harder than she means to, the ball not hitting the ground until it flies through the door of the briefing room. Meatball goes after it like a shot out of a cannon, not listening to the girls’ pleas to come back and stop. “Shit!” Val says, trying not to panic. 

“Fuck sake, Spud Chandler!��� Olive sighs, hand clapping over her eyes.

They come to a halt as they enter, Val slamming into the back of Olive as she spots Meatball right outside the door to the briefing room, sat and waiting patiently for his next command. “Stay right there, buddy,” Olive pleads, hands up and walking towards him. He begins sniffing the air, somehow pinpointing the smell of his owner among the other hundred or so men, and takes off like a shot. 

“Meatball!” Olive says, her voice low and stern as she tries to creep into the room.

Val sighs, her shoulders sagging, rubbing the space between her eyebrows where her famous frown usually sits. “We should be alright, you know. It’s nothing I wouldn’t tell you in a few weeks anyway, when I’m typing the report for this. We get the dog, apologize, and get the hell outta there, got it?”

“Olive, fuck sake, girlie. Don’t go in there!”

“But the dog! And the ball!”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good. Show me your prettiest smile.” She does as she's told, her cheeks growing pink with the effort and confusion. 

“Gorgeous, doll.”

“What’s it for?” Olive asks, relaxing her face and massaging her cheeks for a second.

“Oh, that’s for when Chicky tells us off and we need to sweeten him up when he catches us in the next few minutes.” 

—

“U-Boat pens in Trondheim, Norway!” Chick announces, standing upon a makeshift stage as the men in front of him cheer and whoop. Blakely and his crew are announced to be leading the squadron, Val’s cheeks turning pink and beaming with pride. “That’s my guy!” She whispers, her hands clasped together. A silence falls in the room, Chicky’s eyes squinting as he lights a cigar.

“Now, what in the hell is that dog doin’ in here?”

“Shit,” Olive and Val murmur in unison. “Might need that smile sooner than we thought, doll.”

“Fuck sake, Valencia,” Olive replies, shaking her head.

“Don’t blame me!” She chuckles. “Blame that darn dog.”

“Oh, I am, believe me.”

“I don’t care,” he says, his voice slightly raised and causing the crowd to look in their direction. “Get outta here.”

“Girls!” Chick scolds, walking up to them. “You shouldn’t be in here.”

“We’re sorry, Colonel,” Olive says, putting her nice British manners to good use. “The dog…”

“Yes, sir,” she replies, her lip almost quivering as her body tenses up at the confrontation.

“Chicky,” Val pleads, seeing Olive’s eyes glaze over slightly at his tone. “I threw the ball too hard, the dog ran after it, we came to find it and ended up in here. You know we wouldn’t have come in if it wasn’t urgent.” She’s really buttering him up, tucking her hair behind her ear and blinking her lovely long lashes at him. Olive smiles keenly by her side, trying to contain the fit of giggles that’s dying to burst out of her after she's blinked the tears away.

“Alright, girls,” he softens, pointing his cigar in their direction as Red describes something beaming out of the projector to get the attention of the men back where it needs to be. “I’ll let y’all off, just this once. But don’t let me catch you in here again.”

“You got it, Chicky.”

— 

“And stop calling me Chicky.”

“Nope! Come on, Meatball!” Val says, pushing Olive out of the room in a hurry as she begins to collapse in a heap of laughter, Meatball following along behind and barking at the girls’ giggles.

Everett Blakely stands at the door of the Clubmobile, hands on his hips, looking extremely pissed off. “Val? You got a sec?”

“Yes, honey,” she says sweetly, rolling her eyes at Olive as she passes her. “I’m in trouble.”

“You look far too excited at that prospect, Val.”

“Never know what the consequences will be,” she winks as she reaches the bottom step. Olive and Helen giggle cheekily at her comment, Olive breathing deeply as she sees no sign of James or Benny, telling herself she's off the hook for her second scolding of the day. The relief washes away instantly as she sees James in the same position as Ev was a second ago, his expression more anxious and upset than annoyed.

“C’mere,” he beckons with his head. She obliges, descending the three steps of the truck. “What were you doing in there?”

“Oh, the dog ran in there after Val, baseball superstar here, threw the ball a little too hard,” she says airily, a comedic tone to her voice.

“No, doll. We’d have kept the dog until it was all done.”

“This isn’t the time for jokes, Olive. You shouldn’t have been in there.”

“Are you mad at me or something?” She narrows her eyes at him, trying to gauge his expression. “I just thought it was the right thing to do. I didn’t mean to cause a disturbance, I just wanted to–”

“How was I supposed to know that?”

“Don’t care, Ol. I wanna protect you, okay?”

“If it ever happens again, you grab the dog, you get out, or we watch the dog and bring him back. I don’t want you hearing all of that.” His hand goes into her hair, his fingers raking through it as he sighs. “I don’t want you hearing things and getting upset, okay?” he breaks eye contact, his eyes now on the ground. “I hate the thought of makin’ you sad, Ol. Breaks my heart.”

“Hey,” she soothes, getting him to look up at her again by lifting his chin. “I’m a tough girl,” she shrugs, their eyes finally meeting. 

“Mhm,” she nods in reply, her stomach full of butterflies with the softness and sweetness of it all. “You want a coffee?”

“Bubbles!” They hear, their heads turning towards Val. “You can't fly!”

“Yes, please, beautiful. Don’t need sugar.”

“Sweet enough on you,” they say together.

Olive peeks around the corner to see Joseph Payne, huddled under a blanket and shaking, sweating a fever out. 

“She's right,” Olive gasps after seeing his damp face. “You cannot fly in this state.”

“I'll be fine, I promise!” 

Olive shakes her head in protest, shuffling around in her full pockets before pulling out a stick of gum. 

“I know you don't want anything right now, but this,” she opens the foil, handing him the green colored gum, “is peppermint. It'll help with the nausea.”

“Never heard'a that,” he says weakly, a hand out of the makeshift blanket hood. He takes the gum and bites off a little, chewing slowly. “Thank ya, ma'am.”

“No trouble, Bubbles!”

—

Tedious hours pass after hearing the rumble of the aircraft as they ascend into the expansive blue sky. It was a cloudless day, the sun beaming down on the base, Olive breathing in the scent of the warm countryside. She holds two donuts in one hand, Meatball’s leash in the other, holding the donuts meant for Kenny and Winks as far as she can out of Meatball's greedy little grasp.

“It smells different here,” she thinks out loud, while removing the leash from the dog as he walks slowly. “Nothing specific, just different.” Meatball stops and stares back at her, his eyes shining in the bright sun as if he is listening to her intently as they begin walking together again. 

“Still wondering why you brought me here, fella.” His head turns to the side, his tongue wagging. Olive isn't sure if it's a trick of the light, but she is almost certain he winks at her. “What are you not telling me? It was all meant to be, wasn't it? Destiny.” She smiles as they approach the crew chiefs, Winks waving as he sees them a small distance away.

“Hey, buddy!” Ken yells as he sees Meatball, placing his tools down quickly. 

“Hey,” Olive says, handing him his donut. 

“For me? You're a gem.”

“Of course. Bribing you into silence is kind of fun, really.” She gestures to Winks who, instead of eating the donut, breaks it into pieces for the dog.

“Why don't ya just tell em? They're your friends,” Kenny says, turning back to Olive, his mouth speckled with sugar.

“What if they don't believe me?” She sighs, pulling the baseball from her pocket. 

“They might.”

“Or,” she pauses, eyebrows raised. “They won't, and I lose the only people that make life make sense.”

“You told me!”

“You caught me and I can't lie that fast.” 

He laughs, wiping his mouth before quickly licking the remaining sugar from his lips. “You need me to watch the fella?”

“Please. He's being pretty good today, but you know how nervous us girls get on a mission day.”

“I hear ya. I'll give him to Demarco after interrogation.”

“Or just have him run back to me when you're had enough. Either way,” she shrugs, petting Meatball before she intends to depart. 

“Got it. Here, thanks for the donut.”

“You're welcome, Ken.”

“Oh, and tell em. Tell the girls. They'll believe you.” 

—

“Valencia,” Olive urges, a plume of smoke falling from her mouth as she speaks, watching her friend scrub the same counter for the third time in ten minutes. “You’ve already done that one.”

“R-right,” she stutters, wiping her wet hands on her jumpsuit. Olive stubs out the cigarette and starts carrying donuts into the interrogation room, Val darting toward her to grab them. 

“I got it, Val,” she coos, holding the tray to her body. “Just get the door for me.”

“Got it,” she replies, her voice a couple of octaves higher than what Olive is used to hearing.

“You okay, chicken?”

“Yeah. Just anxious.”

“I know. But they'll be okay. They'll be back before you know it.” Olive enters the room and sets down the donuts on their table, Tattie wandering in after them.

“Oh, thanks, Ol,” she says, patting her on the shoulder. “Val, mind setting out the whiskey?”

“Sure, I'm on it,” she replies, the words rushing out of her mouth, her body tight with the same anxiety they all see in Harry Crosby on the daily. 

“Need a hand?” Helen strolls in, setting cream and sugar next to the coffee she had put out earlier. 

“Nope, I've got it.” As Val picks up a glass to quickly wipe it clean of a smear that was missed, a familiar, loud rumble sounds overhead. Olive steps outside momentarily, hearing Doc shout. “I see em!” he yells, his hand shielding his eyes from the sun.

“Val, they're here,” Olive urges, walking towards her. Val stops suddenly, the glass slipping from her hands and smashing into pieces on the floor.

“Ah, fuck,” she groans, bending down to begin picking up the shards.

“Leave it, doll,” Olive soothes. “I'll get that.” Taking the cloth from Val’s hand, she grips her arm for a moment. 

“Go,” she murmurs. “Go see him.”

“Thanks, Ol,” she breathes out, her whole chest falling as she does so. 

“Helen, go with her, please. Just in case.” 

“Sure. What about you?”

“I'm fine here,” she reassures her, her eyes definitely telling a different story. Not wanting to press, Helen nods, threading her arm through Val’s. 

“We'll be right back, okay?”

—

“Welcome back, boys,” Doc Stover says in his deep, almost hoarse voice, the words mostly getting caught behind the pipe that's in his mouth. “C'mere, let me see that,” he says, taking a look at a gunner's hand that's cut deeply, the gash covered and the blood staunched by a rushed wrapped bandage. “Not too bad. Go to the infirmary after interrogation.”

“Yes, sir,” the man quietly replies, looking toward Olive. 

“Coffee? Something stronger?” He nods, grabbing one of glasses of whiskey from the adjacent table, nodding at her in thanks. 

“Olive,” she hears as her back is turned, exchanging pleasantries with Gale Cleven. He's in the middle of shaking his head at the whiskey table as he picks up a coffee mug, gesturing behind her as he takes a sip. She turns, eyes sparkling with her winning smile on her face. 

“Benny,” she grins, handing him both a coffee and a whiskey. “Glad to have you back.”

“Same. Where's the boy?”

“Oh, he's with Kenny and Winks. Dropped him off a while ago. We had so much to do here and he needed the exercise.”

“Hey, it's fine. I trust you all to take care of my dog, no matter where I end up.” He takes the whiskey in one gulp, chasing it with the coffee Olive prepared for him. “I swear you've got the magic touch. It's perfect every time.” She giggles, a little bashfully as he makes his way into the interrogation room. Breath caught in her throat, she stares at the door, longing for Dougie to appear. Instead, it's Ev and Val, hand in hand, Val’s face a little pale and her eyes without their usual keen sparkle. 

“Val?” Olive begins, making her way around the table to take her from Blakely. He breathes out in some kind of relief, grabbing two whiskies from the table and handing one to Val. “Valencia, what is it?”

“Curt's fort got hit with a shitload of flack,” Ev speaks, taking the shot of whiskey before resuming to talk. “Engines failing, pulling to the right, few fires. Cleven wanted us to stay with him. Egan and I had Croz navigate us somewhere safe, in case Biddick had to land.”

“In case?”

“We think he made a crash landing in Scotland.” 

Val's eyes begin to fill with tears as she whimpers softly, clutching the whiskey glass so tightly that it could shatter into splinters within seconds. Olive gently takes it from her hand, her arm now around her shoulders as Ev is ushered into the interrogation room by Chick. “I've got her,” Olive says as he walks backwards, making sure his girl is taken care of. 

“Dougie’s coming,” Ev says before walking into the room. Olive feels a giant breath fall out of her, her chest almost crumbling with the weight of it. She walks Val outside, lighting her a cigarette as they reach the truck.

Holding Val’s head to her shoulder, Olive soothes her as she softly weeps in worry. “Nobody's heard anything,” she sniffs, taking the glass of whiskey from Olive and knocking it back, wincing at the burning alcohol coursing through her body, taking two large drags of the smoke before offering it to Olive who shakes her head in refusal.

“It'll be okay, chicken. You know Ev would've kept him safe, would've had Croz make sure he was safe. He wouldn't pretend to make himself look valiant.”

“I know. They just didn't see him land,” she says, weeping fresh tears. Olive shushes her softly, hand in her hair in comfort.

She sees a figure walking by, head down and shoulders sagging slightly, until they make eye contact. James makes a beeline for Olive, rushing toward her. He kisses her on the cheek, his hand going through her hair quickly. His other hand is on Val's back, his voice etched with concern. 

“You okay?” 

Val shakes her head, wrapping herself around Olive as she finally weeps.

“She'll get there,” Olive softly replies. “I think once she's heard he's safe, she'll be alright. I've got her.”

“That's good, doll. I’d better–”

“Yeah, you're already straggling behind.”

“Wanted to see you,” he winks, planting a clumsy kiss on her forehead and placing his half smoked cigarette in her mouth. “See ya later.” 

—

“Cleven! Phone!” Red calls from across the crowded club, the girls sat around their table, comforting Valencia the best they could - she's on her fifth French 75, Ev bringing a new one every time he spots an empty glass in front of her. He's at the bar when he rushes back empty handed, patting his lady on the shoulder.

“Curt!” Cleven booms, Bucky Egan eavesdropping by his side. “Where are ya?” Val stands up at the mention of his name, the chair falling and clattering behind her as she begins to rush over. Blakely grabs her hand and leads her to where the pair are frantically yelling down the phone with huge grins on their faces. 

“Gonna be cold tonight, Curt!” Egan yells as he spots Everett, gesturing for Buck to hand the phone to Val, stopping his friend from slamming the receiver down.

A huge smile appears on her face, one that has her eyes crinkling in glee, her features softening in an instant as she relaxes at the sound of her best friend's  voice. Olive smiles just as big at the sight of it, Ev planting a kiss on her temple before she places the phone into its cradle, quickly hugging the two Bucks. 

“Well?!” Helen asks, her eyes wide as the couple venture back to the table.

“He's in Scotland,” Val laughs, her arm thrown around Ev’s shoulders. “Says the people are looking after them real well. Anyway, let's celebrate!” She picks up her empty glass and raises it. “Here's to another day of Curt Biddick bein’ a pain in my ass!” She cackles, everyone else raising their glass along with her. 

“The pain in your ass!”

—

“Bike race in the Mess Hall! Who's in?!”

“I'm in…me!...me, too!” A crowd of voices call as all the men within the club descend from the bar to the adjoining mess hall, Val dragging Helen and Olive with each hand. The girls, a giggling heap run hand in hand through the building to find a good viewing spot, their faces hot and red from the celebratory alcohol consumption, the running and continuous laughter. Val hadn't seemed to feel the effects of all the booze until she'd heard Curt was safe, slowly relaxing as the night went on; five French 75's had become seven, Blakely looking on with a smile as she smothered him in kisses. 

Olive, a few cocktails past her usual limit, leans against a wall and starts to light a cigarette. Her hand is moved for her, a zippo flame in her face. James lights it for her with a wink, which she cheekily reciprocates as he clambers back to the crowd.

“Hey, Demarco!” Dougie yells from a few rows behind, straddling the bike. “Whoever wins walks the pretty girl home,” he says, pointing at Olive who feels her face flush red in embarrassment. 

“Jesus Christ,” she shakes her head, handing her lighter to Tattie.

“Oh, you're on, Douglass.”

“Croz!” Dougie shouts as the men begin playfully shoving at one another, Croz struggling to get his feet on the pedals and stumbling slightly. “Give me a push so I can get ahead of Benny!”

“I'm not doin’ that, Doug,” he laughs, feet finally finding balance. “Besides, she's a nice girl. I may want to walk her home myself.”

“You're married!”

“A married guy can't have friends? She has better conversation skills than you mutts!” 

“Rank has its privileges, boys!” says Cleven as he pushes through the crowd to the front, taking a position next to Brady. Hot on his tail, is of course, Egan, the two rarely ever separate. 

“I see money changing hands,” he points into the sidelines. “That better be going on me!”

“Alright! Y'all ready?!” A cheer erupts from the crowd as Graham gives the men their route, holding a pistol in the air. He shoots it once, followed by a “yeehaw!” The girls cheer so enthusiastically that they feel their vocal chords strain and their throats begin to scratch, but they simply don't care. Fists pumping, jumping up and down like crazy and yelling “Go on! Get em!” Even Tattie joins in, glugging a beer and cheering along with her girls, finally comfortable to be herself in front of Olive.

“Come on, Egan, ya lard ass!”

 Cleven is in the lead, Egan not far behind him when the boys start to make their second lap, Cleven toppling off his bike, followed by Egan, starting a hilarious domino effect as all the men dive into the ever-growing pile of cycles when a shrill noise echoes through the building. Kidd, peeling himself off the wall, begins to yell. “Stop!” He shouts, waiting for the noise to cease. It doesn't, his body on high alert, that sour face back once again after its momentary reprieve. Remembering Val’s words at the sight of him, Olive giggles. 

“Fella looks like he's  got a bug permanently up his ass.”

“Get to the shelters!”

Helen gestures for Olive to grab her drink and holds out her hand. She takes it and they begin to run to the nearest air raid shelter as they see Val and Ev running in an opposite direction, giggling in glee.

—

“Who got further then, Ol?” Helen titters, head on Olive's shoulder as she drains the final sip of her rum and coke as they both see the sky above them light up every few seconds. 

“Benny,” she says, almost sighing.

“Are you disappointed?”

“No! Not disappointed,” she says, rolling her eyes at Helen.

“Olive,” she says a little sternly, eyes narrowing, slightly bloodshot from the rum. “I think you know what you want now.”

“But is it because I'm shit faced?” Olive laughs, feeling Helen's arm wrapping around her waist. 

“I think you'd give me the same answer if you were sober, doll. You've gotta tell him. Tell him tonight.”

“I will.”

“Pinky swear?” She holds her pinky finger out, and Olive hooks hers on to it immediately. 

“Where did the lovers get to?” Helen asks as they break away from one another.

“I saw them running back toward the mess hall, so God knows.”

“God knows, we know, Tattie can absolutely not know.” They both giggle, hands covering their mouths to try to stifle it, not wanting to disturb the silence in the shelter. 

“We'll cover for her!” Olive says, wiping tears from her eyes from the effort of trying to keep the giggles in. “That's what we're here for isn't it?” 

“It sure is, Ol.”

—

Exiting the shelter and patting Cleven on the back as he catches sight of Olive, Benny makes his way over to her, guiding Meatball without a lead.

“Ready, Ol?”

“Sure am. The booze wore off after the first hour sat in there and it’s made me extremely sleepy.”

“Meatball seems to be ready to get outside, too. Didn’t expect to be in there so long and he was getting restless.”

“I can imagine. Ten minutes tied to that pole outside of our little Clubmobile and he’s going crazy.” They begin to walk, Benny offering Olive his arm.

“Taking the dog to do his business while taking the lady home, Benny?” Dougie says, cheeky smile on his face. “Very romantic.”

“Shut it, Douglass,” he bites back, winking to show him he’s joking.

—

“I’m just being a sore loser, I guess,” he replies, a hint of sadness in his eyes. “My turn tomorrow though, alright?”

“Deal,” she swoons, trying her best to hide the heart eyes she’s giving him.

The pair converse casually as they walk arm in arm, Meatball a few paces in front of them, stopping to sniff at whatever catches his fancy every few steps. It makes for a slow walk from the club to the hut, but Olive doesn’t mind. It’s a nice evening, the cold air less biting than the previous night - instead, a warmer breeze sweeps through the base, bringing up the smell of the honeysuckle that grows in the village gardens. 

“What’s up?” She asks, nervously, hoping Ken hasn’t ratted her out already. She feels sweat trickle down her back and tension rise up in her throat as Benny takes a deep breath.

“Thanks for walking me back, Benny,” she says as they reach the door of the hut. “I appreciate it, as always.”

“There’s something I wanted to talk to you about,” he says, taking the two paces that separate them.

“I know when to bow out.”

“I see how Douglass looks at you,” he begins, his shoulders rising and falling. “And I see how you look at him.”

“Benny,” she pleads, her brow furrowing in guilt. 

“Friends?” She asks, holding her hand out.

“I’m sorry,” she continues. “I didn’t intend for this to happen. Especially this. I really like you, Benny. You’re a sweet, wonderful guy and any woman would be lucky to have you. I’m not afraid to say that I don’t feel safe around many men - but with you? I feel very safe.”

“Thanks, Ol. That means a lot.”

“Best friends, Olive. Always.” He pulls her into a hug, the pair of them clinging to one another and smiling. 

“I meant what I said, doll,” she says into his shoulder. “Anyone will be lucky to have you. I hope I’m there to see it.” They break apart and smile at one another, both finally relaxed.

“Oh, you will be. We won’t be rid of each other that easily, girl. You, me and him,” he says, gesturing to Meatball who is sitting next to Olive’s feet, tail wagging in giddiness at seeing his people together. “We’re a team. And we take care of each other. I’ll always be around for you, y’know.”

A figure skulks a few paces behind Benny, coming into the light as he departs. Olive doesn’t see the dumbfounded look on his face as she spots him.

“Me, too.”

“Also, I’m glad you chose Dougie.”

“Why?”

“You’re beginning to feel more like a sister than a potential girlfriend, and I’d have been too nice to say no.”

“You cheeky fucker,” she teases, shoving him. She opens her arms to him again, kissing him on the cheek. “Goodnight, Benny.”

“Goodnight, Ol. See you in the morning.” He returns the kiss, winking at her as they break apart again. “C’mon, pal,” he says to Meatball. “Let’s get to bed.”

“Jesus, Olive. I thought you liked me. You made me believe you liked me.”

“Dougie!” She greets joyously, walking up to him, ready to throw her arms around him guilt free. “Hi, honey.”

“Don’t honey me,” he seethes, walking away the second she comes close to him. “I didn’t mean to disturb.”

“You didn’t disturb anything, my love,” she soothes, trying to grab his hand. 

“I do?!” she urges, her eyes narrowing at him in confusion. “Oh, that?” She says, realizing what he’s seen. “Dougie, we were talking and–”

“I don’t wanna fucking hear it, Olive. From now on, leave me the hell alone.”“If you’d just let me explain,” she pleads, her eyes filling with tears. He walks away, not once looking back. Olive feels her heart racing in a panic and feels her face crumple at the sight of him leaving. Her breath caught in her throat, tears spilling down her cheeks, she struggles to shout for him, the effort of it straining her body.

“Dougie! James, please don’t go! James!”

[amourlyns]

⠀ 「 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐧 𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐬. 」

⠀ ━━ 🌷 💕

✦ 𝗦𝗨𝗠𝗠𝗔𝗥𝗬 ⨟⠀ Johnny is determined to make you his, even if it takes some white lies.

✦ 𝗣𝗔𝗜𝗥𝗜𝗡𝗚 ⨟⠀Johnny 〞Soap 〞Mactavish + gn!nurse Reader

✦ 𝗔𝗨𝗧𝗛𝗢𝗥𝗦 𝗡𝗢𝗧𝗘 ⨟⠀This is also on ao3 ➜    masterlist

✦ 𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗦 ⨟⠀ None

⠀ ★ ⠀ | JOHNNY WAS A SHIT LIAR, YOU KNEW that and he knew that too. The lengths he’ll go to see you were hilarious, you’d never admit that though.

So, when Johnny shows up to the infirmary with a paper cut you can’t help but sigh at his antics. Maybe if you kept up this front he would leave you alone. ❛ Ach, ya look s’pleased ‘t see me.❜

The sound of Johnny’s voice lingers in your head— his cologne seems to linger too. Damn, you needed him out like.. right now. ❛ You should just give it up, Johnny. Seriously.❜

He doesn’t of course, and you’re not surprised. He knows you don’t actually mean it, because if you did… he wouldn’t be here in the first place. Silence fills the space between you too. Then you break it.

❛ Just one date, just one and that’s it.❜ He accepts it of course, you finally peek out of your shell. Just a bit. And that’s all he needed. Before he leaves, you put a silly Hello Kitty bandaid on his paper cut.

❛ Well I’ll be damned. An ‘ol paper cut was all y’ needed, aye? Can I get a star next ? ❜ You ignore him for the most part, but he can see the small smile that creeps onto your expression.

You shoo him out moments after, and he raises his hand in a defensive manner. Giggling his way out of the infirmary… God, this was going to be rough.

YOU WERE DEFINITELY DRAMATIC… Here you we’re wishing that this night could last forever. Johnny was nothing but a gentleman to you.

But it gets worse, he was a damn good comedian. So funny in fact, it had you wondering why didn’t you go out with him sooner? Well, you were as stubborn as an ox of course. You could feel yourself twinge with a bit of pride at the sight of his Hello Kitty bandaid.. he kept it on?

He follows your line of sight and grins. The warm lighting against the setting sun did him wonders… he just looked so right like this. He was really good at picking places to go as well, almost too good.

He took you to this small botanical garden, then a local coffee shop now you were here, at some food truck with amazing street food. You also noted that he loved walking, not that you mind of course. It was better than being cooped up in the infirmary after all.

The sound of Johnny talking breaks your train of thought. ❛ Ay, I kept the bandaid. The boys teased the hell outta me. ‘S a nice reminder of ya though. ❜ Wow, he’s honest. Maybe too honest, because he’s making you more and more nervous by the minute.

Involuntary smiles and giggles are slipping out and your face is getting warm. Damn, he’s smooth. ❛ That’s sweet of you.❜ Why did you have the strongest urge to kiss him? You don’t of course, but you do feel the need to tease him a bit.

So you lean in, to him. And he replicates your movements, instead, you take a bite out of his gyro. A satisfied groan escapes your lips at the flavor and you’re left with a blissful expression.

When you focus on him again, you’re inches away from his face. Your gazes meet and you pull away. He’s speechless for the most part he couldn’t tell if he should be upset about his gyro and your teasing, or if he should be grateful.

He decides to go with both options. ❛ Cheeky, aren’t ya? ❜ You respond with a small smile, and a satisfied hum. You and Johnny to call it a night and head back to base.

Johnny holds the door open for you, ushering you in like some royal… it’s funny to be honest, it makes you feel special. He definitely earned the star right? Especially after today.

So you give it to him, placing it on his chest giving it a gentle kiss. And you end up giving him one too, on the cheek of course. You don’t want to get his hopes too high now. He smiles like a little kid who just got candy, all cheery and giddy.

You bid him farewell, and he does the same.

He was definitely getting another date with you.

[finn-m-corvex]

Whumptober 2023 Day 2 - Delirium

Day 2 here we go! Some good ol' fashioned Pilots era Jay whump! We all love to see it and I know you guys wouldn't expect anything less from me ^^

@splinnters here you go! Your second tag of the day!

Words: 2.3k

“Zane, we need more ice!” Cole shouted, hauling the large bucket out into the hallway. He didn’t want to leave Jay alone for too long, but he didn’t want to give Zane anymore to do.

The boy came from around the corner, looking exhausted but dutifully picking the bucket up to drag it back to their small kitchen. He didn’t know how many times they had already been through this routine, but he would do it again and again as many times as it took.

Cole rushed back into the room, frowning. “Kai-”

“I know,” Kai was biting his lip as he wiped the washcloth over Jay’s face. “I know, Cole. He isn’t getting any better yet.”

“Fuck,” Cole cursed softly. He went to the other side of Jay’s makeshift bed, a cot they had dragged in from the monastery’s small infirmary, and pulled down the sheet that had been covering the blue ninja’s torso. Jay whined, head twisting from side to side as Kai kept patting him down with the cloth. “Where’s Wu when you need him?”

“He’s always been like this?” Kai said somewhat bitterly. Cole bit his lip, remembering that Kai hadn’t been with them for very long at all. It had only been a week or so since they had retrieved their golden weapons, and pretty much all of their time had been spent trying to make sure that Jay’s brains weren’t going to melt out of his skull. Wu had left them a few days ago to travel to the tea shop and get Jay some medicine, but everyone else in the monastery knew that they were far from qualified to be Jay’s sole caretakers.

If he was being totally honest, Cole was surprised how willing Kai had been to help. The red ninja was at Jay’s bedside constantly, offering soothing words that Jay only half-heard and taking up regular shifts to keep watch. It must be the big brother’s instincts that came from raising his sister.

Nya came walking in with more chilled water bottles, setting them down on the floor. “How is he?”

“Well, he isn’t any better, but at least he’s not worse,” Kai sighed.

“Let me know if there’s anything I can do,” Nya said, biting her lip, and Cole felt his heart ache as she walked away. They hadn’t known each other for very long, but Cole already knew that she was going to be one of his closest friends. Maybe even a sister.

Kai got up to help Zane with the ice bucket at the ice ninja’s call, and he quickly passed the cloth over to Cole. Cole bent over the sick boy, grimacing at the soft wheezes that left Jay’s mouth through cracked lips. His face was flushed beyond a healthy red, making his light freckles stand out against his skin. The skin under his eyes was chafing from the constant heat, his forehead shining with perpetual sweat and eyelids constantly twitching as he dreamed things that made him sob in the middle of the night.

Jay cried out, and Cole was quick to pin his hands down when he thrashed. “Jay! Jay, it’s okay, it’s just me-”

“No,” Jay moaned, “no, no, don’t hurt them. Please don’t hurt them!”

Shit, this was going downhill. “No one’s getting hurt, Jay, I promise. We’re all safe, it’s okay.”

He was whimpering when Cole swept the rag over his neck. “Please, please, I’ll do better just please-”

“You’re doing great, Jay,” Cole assured. “I promise, you’re doing amazing. I just need you to be strong for me, okay?”

“Make it stop, please. It’s too hot, it hurts. It hurts-”

“Zane’s getting the ice, Sparky. It’ll feel better with the ice,” Cole turned his head to the door. “Guys! We need that ice!”

There was a loud crash and Cole could hear his heart plummeting until Kai yelled back. “We’re fine! It’s going to be a few minutes!”

“Alright, Jay,” Cole muttered, reaching behind the blue ninja and hauling him upright, “change of plans. We’re getting you a new shirt.”

If they had the supplies to change his bedsheets everytime Jay’s sweat soaked them through then Cole would’ve been the first one to do so, but they didn’t. Between the four boys in the house they barely had enough shirts to sub in and out. Cole tried not to focus on how sweaty Jay was, how much his soft skin was chafing against the heat or how it was hot to the touch. He quickly threw on one of the shirts Kai had stacked beside the cot, one of Zane’s, and flipped Jay’s pillow over so the sweat-soaked side would have a chance to dry. Jay groaned as Cole lay him back down, reaching out to try and grasp Cole’s hand with half-lidded eyes.

Cole hated how rheumy his brother’s eyes were, pupils large and unfocused as he slid his hand into Jay’s. “There we go. Is that better?”

“Are you real?”

The question threw him for a loop, and Cole looked at Jay with a strange look. “Yeah? I’m here, Jay. I’m Cole.”

First Master Jay better not be losing his mind on him.

“It’s not a dream?” Jay sounded like he was struggling to comprehend the fact that Cole was real and standing right in front of him. “I have friends? Brothers?”

Oh. Oh.

“Yeah buddy,” Cole said as gently as he could, “we’re real. Me and Zane and Kai and Nya, we’re all real. No dreams.”

“But nobody’s ever wanted to be my friend before,” and Jay’s lower lip was wobbling in a way that Cole knew meant he was about to cry, so he was quick to cup Jay’s cheek and press a kiss to his forehead. He had already known Jay for years, and physical affection was the quickest way to get Jay to calm down.

“Well, we want to be your friends,” Cole soothed, thumb rubbing against the dark eyebags forming on Jay’s face. “And I know this is probably really scary, but it’s going to be okay.”

Jay shuddered, eyes opening and closing rapidly. “I always asked Ma and Pa if I could have a little brother.”

Cole’s brain short-circuited. Why was Jay telling him this?

“They always told me that they were too old to have another baby,” Jay babbled, “that they were lucky enough to just have me. But-but I didn’t want it to just be me. It was lonely living in the junkyard, and I know it wasn’t their fault and I love them so much but there was no one to talk to and any kids that did show up just made fun of me and picked on me and wrecked my stuff and said bad things about us-”

“And none of us are doing any of that,” Cole interrupted, rubbing small circles on Jay’s chest with a gentle hand to remind him to breathe. “”You know who I am, right?”

His heart started breaking when Jay hesitated. “I’m Cole, Jay. I’ve been your best friend ever since we met Wu, you remember that?”

“Mhm,” Jay said softly. “I-I think so. He’s been training us, right?”

“Yeah,” Cole nodded, “and we’re pretty damn good if I do say so myself.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

Zane and Kai finally, finally made an appearance, carrying in the ice bucket and setting it down next to the chair that Kai had been using. Cole re-wet the washcloth, making sure to drag it over Jay’s neck and collarbone. “Sorry for the wait,” Zane said apologetically, but Cole just waved him off. It wasn’t really that big of a deal.

Kai shoveled the ice into several plastic bags with his hands, wrapping each one in paper towels as carefully as he could. He placed one at all the appropriate places: one under each of Jay’s arms, packing on his sides and under his knees, even one between his legs. This was something they had done more than once, and while Cole didn’t entirely understand the science behind it both Zane and Nya had said that it was the right thing to do, and he trusted them.

“Jay, is that better?” Zane asked gently, pulling up a new sheet and a thin blanket over Jay’s torso. Jay was shivering, teeth clacking together and head twitching from side to side, but he nodded in response to Zane’s question. Kai brushed through his messy hair with his fingers, twirling Jay’s natural curls around his fingers and scratching along the boy’s scalp much like how Cole would whenever Jay was distressed.

“Has he always had curly hair?” Kai asked. Jay hummed, fully content to let the red ninja do whatever he wanted with his hair.

“Yeah, he just hides it,” Cole explained, wishing Zane good luck as he gathered up the used sheets and clothes to run them through the wash. Zane was pretty much the only reason why the monastery was still standing, because the rest of them definitely weren’t getting any of their chores done.

“It’s actually kinda cute,” Kai commented, “really fun to run your hands through.”

“Exactly,” Cole said, “that’s what I tell him, but he doesn’t like it when it’s curly. And it’s up to him how he styles it, even if I wish he let it out more often.”

“Cause people used to make fun of me for it.”

Both of the boys stopped, and Jay made a sound of protest when Kai’s hands ceased their motions. “Hey, that feels nice.”

“Sorry,” Kai apologized, starting to scratch at the blue ninja’s scalp again, “but kids used to make fun of you for your hair?”

Jay shrugged as best as he could while laying down, sighing as Cole pressed the cloth to his forehead. “They thought it was weird that I had red hair when neither of my parents did, and that it was curly, since curly hair isn’t common in the Sea of Sands.”

“Well that’s stupid,” Kai said, and Cole sighed as Jay let out a weak chuckle. “Your hair is awesome, bro.”

“Meh, it’s not that awesome. It’s just hair.”

“But it’s yours, and that’s what makes it special,” Cole said. And he was telling the truth; more than once he found himself wishing that he had hair like Jay’s, with curls that bounced with every shake of his head and that glowed in the morning sun with the sheen off fallen leaves.

“You guys are really nice for dream people,” Jay said softly, and the two of them froze again, glancing at each other. Kai raised an eyebrow, and Cole could only shrug helplessly in response.

Cole rubbed at Jay’s sternum. “Buddy, I already told you that this wasn’t a dream, remember?”

“That’s exactly what someone in a dream would tell me.”

“It really isn’t,” Kai deadpanned, pushing the short bangs out of Jay’s face as tenderly as he could. Jay leaned into the touch, reaching out with a shaky hand to grasp at Kai’s forearm.

“Help me sit up?” he asked, and Cole was all too happy to lend him a hand. Jay wheezed as Cole held him up, quickly sitting behind the blue ninja so Jay could rest against his chest. Jay sighed as his head was pillowed in the hollow of Cole’s shoulder, shutting his eyes and grabbing Cole’s arms to wrap them around his waist. Cole hugged him close, pressing a kiss to the back of his brother’s head and tucking the blanket around both of their legs.

Smiling, Kai rested his head in Jay’s lap. “This better for you, motormouth?”

“Definitely,” Jay whispered, already sleepy even though he had put in the most minimal effort possible. He yawned, and Kai was more than happy to kick his shoes off and throw himself on top of the two’s legs. Cole was pretty sure that this cot was not designed to hold three people, but oh well. Jay relaxed, soft snores filling the air as he went back to sleep with Kai humming quietly and Cole rubbing his back.

Cole said hi to his other brother when he came back and Zane raised an eyebrow at their new positions, although he looked relieved to see that Jay had fallen back asleep. “Is there a particular reason you are all snuggling?”

“We are not snuggling,” Kai said, affronted at the mere notion that he would ever be caught in such an embarrassing act as snuggling, “Jay wanted hugs, so we gave him hugs.”

Cole was going to say something snarky in response when his hands brushed against Jay’s bare skin under his shirt, and he had to stop. Was it just his imagination, or did Jay feel just a little bit cooler than he did before?

“One of you grab the thermometer,” he said quickly, pressing the back of his hand to the blue ninja’s forehead and cheeks, trying to get a gauge on Jay’s temperature. “I think his fever might be breaking.”

Kai snatched it off of the floor next to his chair, wiping the metal tip off on his own shirt and sticking it into Jay’s mouth. Making sure it was under his tongue, the three waited with bated breath for the dreaded beep, and Cole was praying to any deity above that his brother’s temperature was finally starting to come down.

“What was it the last time we checked?” Kai asked when he withdrew the instrument from Jay’s mouth. The boy barely stirred from where he lay against Cole, but Cole was happy that he stayed asleep.

“104.7, Kai,” Zane recited, and Cole was glad that at least one person in the monastery had a good memory.

The fire ninja’s face lit up in a delighted grin. “It’s lower! It’s going down!”

And all three of them cheered as quietly as they could, but they were still loud enough to attract the attention of Nya from down the hall, but she only joined in once they told her why. Cole could only hope that this was just the beginning of the end of this particular ordeal, and that they would never have to deal with a fever like this ever again.

[is-it-offwithyourhead]

Is it OWMH if I [ 3rd year Pomefiore student] accidentally convinced the Pomefiore housewarden that he was hallucinating this morning?

For context; it was an unusual morning for myself, and I happen to be late for setting up the daily announcement. So, on my way to the main campus; I head towards the kitchen to snag a piece of toast. Easy enough mission; nothing can go wrong. Until it does.

I'm standing in front of the refrigerator, looking to find an avocado that could top my toast. So, Housewarden Vil walks in while I'm distracted, I'm completely unaware he's on the other side of the kitchen. I don't think he sees me either. He's at the other fridge across from me.

He's got everything in the blender, all his fruits and veggies. I'm barely done cutting my avocado, so when the blender turns on. Your honor bare with me, I changed forms, and suddenly, I've flown my little raven self up into an open cabinet.

My feathers, scattered, Vil, absolutely startled, and more importantly, there's suddenly a mess in the kitchen. I'm too tired to realize that, one, it's just a blender and two, it's Vil. I'm instantly in fight or flight, so as a bird fae does, I'm ready to fly for my life.

I can hear Vil walking over and withdrawing his wand to likely apprehend what he assumes is a bird that happened to fly into the dorms. I refuse to get treated like a wild animal, so I brace to escape. The moment he opens the cabinet, I fly straight at him and daze him for a brief moment.

By the time he's recuperated from this maneuver, I'm out of the kitchen. Absolutely gone. But there's a new problem; I forgot my wand at the scene of the incident. Vil immediately asks me if I happen to see a raven while walking the hall, unaware that the creature happened to be little ol' me.

Obviously, I must save face. So I decided I must gaslight him. There's no other way. I retort to him with the most concerned look I could muster while walking back into the kitchen with him. "Perhaps you are feeling unwell, shall I escort you to the infirmary?"

This, it works. Now he's questioning himself. I could see it in his face; I have my wand in hand by now. I could see the feathers I left behind, and Vil seemingly remembers this detail as well. I have mere seconds to pull off a spell to make it disappear.

Somehow, as he turns, the spell hits the mess I left behind. This tactic, it works, I'm not sure where I disappeared, my feathers too, but that didn't matter. Vil looks at me, absolutely puzzled, then for a brief moment, closes his eyes.

He just dumped his smoothie and left to go to the cafeteria with me. We walked onto the main campus, and I even linked arms with him as if he could faint at any moment. Vil if you're seeing this, I'm sorry, my good friend, but my reputation was at stake. I'll take whatever jurisdiction the world will give me.

~ 🎤

[pitviperofdoom]

So uh. About 12 years ago I thought it'd be fun to do Sherlock Holmes set in the Redwall universe. I wrote a bit for it, then lost interest and moved on to other things.

Well, between my Redwall reread and the Letters from Watson substack, I've recently found myself with renewed interest in both Redwall and Holmes stories, so I decided to dust off the ol' Redwall AU. I reread what I had, found it almost entirely unusable, and completely reworked it. And now I have a humble little introduction here!

Don't know if I'll continue this, but I've had a LOT of fun ideas over the last week, so we'll see!

*****

Extract from the personal journal of Lancejack Johnswort Swifteye, formerly of the Fur and Foot Fighters Border Patrol—

The first day of spring has come and gone. The days grow warmer and longer as we leave winter further behind—the Winter of the Sweeping Mists, by Abbey reckoning. By my own reckoning it was the Winter of Abject Misery.

For six seasons I have marched with the Fur and Foot Fighters Border Patrol, that intrepid unit that keeps watch on the region where Mossflower meets the sand dunes by the Western Sea. Most of my comrades were Salamandastron hares, but with the border patrol’s proximity to the forest, they had plenty of use for squirrels like myself. Like many of my kind I am sharp of eye and handy with a bow, and between my childhood of helping in the Abbey Infirmary and my later training under Lieutenant Lagsworth, I had the skills to make myself useful as a healer as well.

It all came to an abrupt and inglorious end last winter, when a Galloper from the Long Patrol came to us warning of a corsair ship that had made landfall not far from our position. Word reached us too late that the ship was in fact a full fleet, and in the resulting battle I found myself cut off from the rest of the patrol during our retreat. I went down with several wounds, not the least of which was a bolt from a searat’s crossbow in my leg, and I would have been killed if Corporal Pennyroyal hadn’t dragged me to safety.

The patrol suffered heavier losses than it should have, with its principal healer gravely wounded. Penny tells me it was touch and go for a while, before reinforcements from Salamandastron arrived, led by Colonel Kordyne himself. In the end I survived, albeit severely weakened and with a newly-acquired limp, my military career indefinitely on hold if not outright over.

Once I was well enough to travel, I was swiftly sent on my way to Redwall by shrew logboat, and had scarcely passed a week in the willing paws of the abbeydwellers when I was struck down with a ferocious fever. The days and weeks that followed were miserable, full of aches and chills and horrendous dreams—and precious little company, as I was kept away from other creatures so as not to spread my illness to the rest of the abbey.

To add insult to injury, I missed the Nameday celebrations entirely, and by the time I had regained enough of an appetite to enjoy the taste of food, every crumb of that glorious feast had been eaten or sent out to the denizens of the surrounding woodlands in need of extra food after the winter.

It is strange to find myself walking Redwall’s venerable halls once more. I was quite young when I left, creeping out in the cover of night so as not to alert the elders to my departure. Back then I dreamed of returning in glorious triumph, and here I am now, scrawny and scarred and hobbling about with a cane on days when my leg gives me trouble. I keep busy how I can, usually helping Brother Stonecrop in the Infirmary, but more often than not I find myself passing days in a fog. I miss my comrades, the smell of the wind off the distant sea, the feeling of good bark beneath my claws. Embarrassment about my situation has made me a recluse. Stonecrop and I were friends as Dibbuns, and he is still good company, but in spite of his best efforts, in spite of the many good creatures who make their home in Redwall, I cannot recall ever feeling so terribly lonely.

****

The sound of pawsteps on the stone floor reached John’s ears. Briefly he considered snuffing out the candle and waiting silently for whoever it was to leave, but the thought felt unbearably childish. With a sigh, he set down his quill and blew gently on the still-wet ink.

“So that’s where you’ve been hiding.” Brother Stonecrop poked his head around the cask. “By the fur, how can you stand being down here so long on the cold stone?”

“It’s quiet,” John replied. “And before you ask, my leg feels fine. How’d you find me?”

“You certainly didn’t make it easy.” The stout mouse eased between the barrels and sat down with him, fidgeting until he’d smoothed out his habit. “I checked the infirmary and the top of the belltower first, and then I remembered Pinn saying she’d seen you creeping down here the other day.”

“I really thought I’d given her the slip,” John muttered, before a cloth-wrapped bundle was thrust into his inkstained paws. “Stonecrop, what—”

“You missed lunch again,” Stonecrop informed him. “I managed to rescue some cheese and nutbread and a scone before the young ones scoffed the lot. There’s a beaker of dandelion cordial as well. Get your jaws around that, see if it puts you in a better mood.”

“My mood is perfectly fine,” John protested. As if on cue, his traitorous stomach growled.

“Says the daft beast as he broods in the dark, scribbling out his thoughts by candlelight.”

“Alright, alright.” John bit into the scone and almost groaned. “Hell’s teeth, that’s good. How is it still warm?”

“Alright, so I didn’t actually snatch it from the jaws of a ravenous mousebabe,” Stonecrop admitted. “I stopped by the kitchens for a fresh one. I thought if you were making yourself this hard to find, it was a scone-straight-from-the-ovens sort of day.”

In spite of himself, John couldn’t help but smile. “Thanks, Stonecrop.”

Stonecrop clapped him on the back. “Think nothing of it, old Swifteye. Somebeast has to make sure you don’t waste away to nothing.”

“I’m nowhere near old.”

“Is that a fact? I could hardly tell, when you’ve got a face on you like a decrepit frog more often than not.” Stonecrop’s tone, light as it was, betrayed his worry. “You know it wouldn’t hurt to attend a meal every now and then. It’d be good for you to have some company once in a while.”

“I know, I know, it just…” John sipped from the beaker to buy himself time to think. “It gets a bit loud, especially with how voices echo in this place. And the last time I was somewhere loud, it wasn’t one of my good days.”

Stonecrop frowned. “I would think Dibbuns shrieking at dinnertime was a far cry from a battlefield.”

“You would think.”

“Well…” John could almost hear Stonecrop’s thoughts whirring as he hunted for a solution. “Would it help to get out of the abbey for a bit? You’ve hardly left since you got here—obviously you couldn’t with the fever, but you’re hale and healthy now, besides the leg. A bit of fresh air never harmed anybeast. Matter of fact, I’ve been doing some spring cleaning in the infirmary, and some of my herb stores need to be restocked.”

“It… would be nice to walk among proper trees again,” John admitted. “Though with my luck, I’d go out for a leisurely stroll and run straight into a robber gang.”

“Good thing you’re in an abbey full to the brim with willing, helpful beasts,” Stonecrop pointed out. “Why don’t I send you and somebeast else out on a little herb-gathering mission for me?”

“I’m not some restless young one you need to keep busy,” John told him, finishing up the last of the cheese.

“No, you’re a restless fully grown squirrel who needs to keep busy before he crawls out of his own fur,” Stonecrop said dryly.

“Yes, yes, you’re right.” John sighed. “You’re right. I’ve just been… I don’t know how to explain it.”

“Lonely?”

“I don’t know if it’s that,” John flicked away the last few crumbs of nutbread. “But it feels the same whether I’m hiding down here or standing in the middle of a crowded Cavern Hole, so I may as well feel it without forcing my awful moods on somebeast else.”

Stonecrop placed a paw on his shoulder. “That’s no good and you know it, John. Starving the body won’t cure it of sickness, and starving the spirit won’t cure it of sadness, either.”

“I’m not sad, I’m just… I’m not exactly what anybeast would consider good company.”

Stonecrop took long enough to reply for John to finish the rest of his meal. When he glanced over again, he found the mouse looking at him thoughtfully.

“What?”

“It’s funny, I was just thinking… you’re not the first creature to say that to me in the last few days,” Stonecrop said, stroking his whiskers.

“So there’s another unsociable hermit in the abbey? I’m shocked we haven’t run into each other in the same hidden-away nook.”

“You’d be surprised,” Stonecrop chuckled. “But no, he’s been away from the abbey for most of the winter and just returned this past week. Bit of an odd one, but clever as anything. Knows the woods like the back of his paw, too. It was actually him I asked first about herbs, and he was all for helping until somebeast else came along with a more interesting problem for him to solve.”

“Not very courteous of him.”

“Oh, that’s just how he is,” Stonecrop said with a shrug. “But either way my stores need replenishing, and I’ve been busy with cleaning and early springtime sniffles. Would you be willing to lend me a paw?”

John sighed, trying not to smile and failing. “Well, when you put it like that, I’d be a real puddenhead to say no, wouldn’t I?”

“That’s the spirit!” Stonecrop heaved himself to his footpaws before reaching down to pull John up alongside him. “Come along then, let’s get you back out into the sunlight. Meet me in the infirmary and we can go over the list—I’ll go let Hemlock know I won’t be needing him after all.”

“Actually…” For a moment, John teetered on the edge of indecision, before he steeled himself and swallowed his ever-present doubts. “I think I’ll come along with you. You’ve got me curious about this Hemlock fellow.”

Stonecrop’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh? Well this is a pleasant surprise.”

“I rarely hear a cross word from you about anybeast,” John pointed out. “So if he’s odd enough for even you to remark upon it…”

“Well, don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Stonecrop chuckled, a bit nervously. “Just try to keep an open mind.”

Curiosity piqued, John followed him out of the cellar, through the Great Hall and out onto the abbey lawns. From the looks of it, most creatures had taken advantage of the warming weather to have lunch outside. The food was cleared away, but rumpled blankets still lay strewn across the grass, and sticky-pawed Dibbuns dashed about playing while their elders cleared away dishes and napkins.

The gatehouse door stood ajar when they reached it, and Stonecrop knocked twice before pushing it fully open and stepping inside. “Are you in there, Hemlock?”

There was no reply, but the sound of pages turning told them that somebeast was inside, at least. The gatehouse was a cluttered mess, and the sounds of life came from somewhere behind the stacks of old tomes and loose parchment that covered the desk.

Before Stonecrop could call out again, the unseen creature gave a great “Ha!” before slamming a book shut and nearly knocking the chair over in a mad scurry for the door.

Behind Stonecrop, John froze, and his mouth dropped open.

There was a ferret in the gatehouse—better fed and groomed than others of his kind that John had encountered, but a ferret nonetheless. From head to toe his brown fur was so dark it was nearly black, with flashes of white over his muzzle and ears, and a thin layer of dust over all.

“Solved it!” he crowed triumphantly, waving a slip of parchment. “Terribly sorry for the wait, Stonecrop, Myrtus presented me with a puzzle the other day and it couldn’t wait.”

“Sounds like it was a real poser,” Stonecrop said.

“A decent diversion. How close is it to noon?”

“About two hours past,” Stonecrop replied.

The ferret beamed. “Excellent timing! This is the best part—come, this way, you’ll both enjoy this.”

Without waiting for a reply, the ferret seized them both by their sleeves and pulled them out of the gatehouse, then released them and took off for the orchards at a quick lope.

John was left staring after him, mouth still hanging open. Wordlessly he turned to Stonecrop.

“I did say he was odd and to keep an open mind,” Stonecrop sighed. “We’d better see what he’s found.”

They caught up to the ferret at the wall nearest the orchard, walking quickly along its length and tapping each sandstone block as he went. “Well, what is it, Hemlock?” Stonecrop asked.

“Twelve, thirteen—hush, I’m counting—fourteen, fifteen…” The ferret carried on until he reached the middle of the wall, then turned his back was to it and began counting his steps. Before long they were within the shade of the orchard, and the ferret had halted at a damson tree and was squinting at something on the ground. With a noise of sudden understanding he darted along its shadow until he reached its end, counted several more steps, and stopped at an apple tree.

“Here it is!” The ferret inspected the tree trunk, then stared up into its branches, before turning and locking eyes with John. “The smallest favor, if you don’t mind—could you climb up there and see if you can find this?” He passed the slip of parchment to John. Scribbled on it was the symbol of a flower with star-shaped leaves.

Luckily today was a good day, and his leg didn’t pain him beyond a bit of stiffness. With one last baffled look at Stonecrop, John scaled the tree with ease. This early in spring, the boughs were mostly bare of leaves, and it took him several minutes to find the symbol. It wasn’t carved into the tree itself, but engraved on a small bronze disk embedded in one of the branches.

“Found it!” he called down.

“Which side of the tree?” the ferret asked.

“South!”

“Thank you!”

John climbed down to find the ferret down on all fours at the roots on the south side, digging furiously into the soil with both paws.

“Would you like me to find Foremole?” Stonecrop asked.

“No, I’ve got it!”

Soil flew into a growing pile behind him; the ferret dug with single-minded determination until his head was fully out of sight. Minutes passed before John heard a thud and curse, and the ferret’s dirt-covered face poked back into view.

“It’ll just be a moment more, I’ve just hit it,” he said, before diving back down with renewed energy.

“Just hit what?” John mouthed to Stonecrop, who shrugged helplessly at him and crouched down for a better look.

Eventually the ferret rose again with a grunt of effort, and lifted out an old, dirt-caked chest secured with a rusted lock. The ferret dove down again, produced a sizable rock from the hole he’d just dug, and smashed it off. Then he lifted the lid, peered inside, and gave a bark of triumphant laughter.

“Well?” Stonecrop spoke up. “Don’t keep us in suspense, what have you found?”

“No gold or jewels, if that’s what you’re wondering,” the ferret replied. “These are the journals of Brother Mallowgreen, during the reign of Abbot Kastel. There’s a bit of a gap in the abbey’s history during that time, thanks to the abbot’s rather unfortunate penchant for destroying records he didn’t like. Luckily, the Infirmary keeper at the time had the presence of mind to hide his own scribblings, and was kind enough to leave behind a few riddles leading to their location.” He lifted himself out of the hole and dusted off his paws, gray eyes alight with satisfaction. “And I do love a good riddle.”

“And you took all of two and a half days to solve it,” Stonecrop remarked.

“As I said, a decent diversion.” The ferret’s eyes settled on John again. “Hello.”

“Ah, right—Hemlock, this is John Swifteye, an old friend of mine. John, this is Hemlock, who I told you about.”

“Pleasure.” Hemlock’s pawshake was firm but not so tight as to be painful. “I didn’t know Stonecrop’s friendships extended as far as the Fur and Foot Fighters of the western dunes.”

“I, er, haven’t been back here in some time,” John stammered out, caught off guard.

“Do your herbs still need restocking, by the way?” Hemlock asked Stonecrop. “I know it’s been a few days.”

“You know, I was just coming to let you know that I’d found somebeast else for the task,” Stonecrop replied. “But it looks like you’re free again.”

“It might be a two-beast job, given the state of your stores when I last saw them,” Hemlock pointed out, with a glance at John. “I wouldn’t mind the extra paws, especially if it means having an archer along. Never mind being out of practice—any ne’er do wells we find in the woods today will most likely flee at a warning shot.”

“Um,” said John.

“If you’re not averse to my company, of course,” Hemlock added with a smile.

“I—not at all,” John answered without thinking. “If you don’t mind slowing up for a squirrel with a limp.”

“Well then.” Hemlock scooped up the chest and tucked it under one arm. “I’ll go run this little find up to the attic, and then I’ve got to nip down to the kitchens for something. See you at the east wallgate, Swifteye.” With that, he was gone.

John waited until Hemlock was well out of earshot before jabbing his paw into Stonecrop’s ribs. “Out with it, Stonecrop, how many others have you gossiped to about me?”

“I didn’t!” Stonecrop was grinning. “On my honor, I never breathed a word about you, to him or anybeast else. I told you he’s clever.”

“What have I gotten myself into?” John asked.

Stonecrop slung a friendly paw around his shoulders and began leading him back to the abbey building. “Only one way to find out.”

They had only just reached the lawn when, behind them, the deep voice of Brother Bramlen the gardener rang out from beneath the trees.

“WHO IN THE NAME O’ SPIKES HAS BEEN DIGGIN’ UP ME TREES?” the hedgehog bellowed. “HEMLOCK!”

Squirrel and mouse beat a hasty retreat, laughing like misbehaving young ones.

****

True to his word, Hemlock was waiting by the east wallgate when John made his way down. The ferret was cloaked warmly for the lingering winter’s chill, and carried an empty basket with one paw and, oddly enough, what seemed to be a fully-packed haversack on his shoulders. John had a basket of his own, and had armed himself with bow, quiver, and a stout walking stick.

“Planning on spending the night, are you?” John asked, glancing at the pack.

“No,” Hemlock replied, and unbolted the gate. “After you.”

The sun was out, with more blue in the sky than gray. In spite of the warmth of sunlight, the air was still cold, even more so without the high abbey walls to block the wind. John’s injured leg gave a twinge, forcing him to lean on the stick a little more heavily than he would have liked.

Hemlock had taken the lead without a word, which was fair enough. Before he’d come limping to the abbey under the guidance of the Guosim, John hadn’t been this deep into Mossflower Wood since his nighttime escape as a wayward young one. Besides, if he wasn’t focused on pathfinding, it gave him a chance to size up his strange companion.

It wasn’t unheard of for vermin to live their lives in peace and quiet contentment. John had known of a few to the west—a weasel couple that farmed and fished in the woods, a solitary old rat that lived out in the dunes—and the patrol kept an eye out but otherwise left them alone. But that didn’t change the fact that, by and large, the vast majority that John had encountered had been… well. Roving bandits, robber gangs. Corsair fleets.

John glanced back at the sandstone wall looming over the tree tops, then again at Hemlock. Redwall’s charter had something or other about extending paws in peace and friendship, but that didn’t change the long history of vermin hordes showing up to try and conquer the place.

“Rest assured, that is not my intention,” Hemlock said dryly.

Startled, John nearly tripped. “I beg your pardon?”

“I was only a little older than a kit when I first came to Redwall,” Hemlock went on, picking his way carefully through a tangle of roots. “Rather a long time for a plot to simmer, wouldn’t you agree?”

John slowed, leaning heavily on his stick as he followed. “I didn’t—how did you—?”

“Your stare has been burning holes in the back of my head since we left,” Hemlock replied. At least he didn’t sound particularly offended. “And just now you looked back at the abbey as if to make sure it was still there, then very pointedly looked at all the spots on my person that might conceal weapons. It wasn’t difficult to follow your train of thought.”

“...Oh.” Sheepishly, John lapsed into silence.

Eventually Hemlock led the way to a patch of vervain, and John descended upon it. The plants were strong and healthy in spite of the recent winter, and before long the bottom of his basket was lined with it.

“I found feverfew not far from here, last time I passed through,” Hemlock spoke up suddenly. “Hopefully it’ll still be there—not much snow, this past winter, so it won’t have frozen.”

John pulled himself back up on his stick. His leg was beginning to ache, just slightly, but he could still walk a bit more. “Lead on.”

They found it near a massive fallen beech log, growing green and full out of the loam, though it was still too early in the season for flowers. Still, Stonecrop could do a lot with stems and leaves alone. When John was finished harvesting them, he found Hemlock sitting on the log waiting for him.

“Might as well sit for a bit,” the ferret said. “Rest that leg.”

“Oh. Er, thank you.” John leaned his stick against the log and climbed up to sit—not beside him, but near enough.

Truthfully, he was grateful. He hadn’t had much in the way of exercise recently, between injuries, fever, and moping. He could feel himself getting winded and tired more quickly than he ever had before. A long walk through the woods without rest was likely to make his leg worse.

Hemlock must have known. He certainly wasn’t resting for his own benefit.

“Can I ask you something?” John asked eventually.

“You may.”

“Stonecrop said he didn’t tell you about me,” said John. “Did somebeast else tell you who I was, or…?”

Hemlock’s gray eyes flitted up and down, taking in the whole of him again. “I hadn’t heard of you before Stonecrop introduced us.”

“Then how did you know I’m—I was one of the Fur and Foot Fighters?”

“Oh, a number of things,” Hemlock replied. “I looked at you and thought, here is a creature who carries himself like a trained soldier, with his best seasons before him but covered in scars old and new, with a freshly maimed leg and a recent bout of illness, in the middle of a vast forest that hasn’t seen much trouble from hordes and bandits in quite some time. The military bearing suggests the Long Patrol, but it’s extremely rare to see anybeast but a hare among them. And if you were in the Long Patrol, you would’ve rested from your hardships in Salamandastron. Then I remembered hearing of the recent visit from the Guosim, and that answered that. You came from the border between forest and sand, and your comrades saw fit to put you on a boat for home rather than send you on a long march over the dunes.” He paused. “The archery was easy enough—calluses on your paws and a thin patch on your inner arm where the bowstring wears at your fur when you fire.”

John gaped at him.

“It sounds complicated when I lay it all out, but it’s really not,” Hemlock finished. “Two and two make four.”

“And you know Redwall is ‘home’ for me because…?”

“The accent, obviously.”

“Obviously.” He hadn’t even known he had an accent.

“How’s the leg?” Hemlock asked.

John tested it, then carefully slid down to the ground. The ache was nearly gone. “Better, thank you.”

“Let’s be off, then. The infirmary’s stores don’t have a single stem of marigold left.”

Before they left, Hemlock shrugged the haversack from his shoulders and set it on the log. John watched him curiously as he wedged it in the fork of the roots so that it wouldn’t slide off.

“What are you doing?”

“Paying for services rendered,” Hemlock replied, leaving the pack where it sat. “Let’s be off.”

The ferret offered no further explanation. Something told John it would be useless to press.

****

“So what do you think of him?” Stonecrop asked later that evening, as they reorganized the herb stores.

“You were right,” John replied. “He’s an odd one and no mistake. Monstrously clever, though.”

“Oh, that he is.”

“He left a full haversack out in the woods,” John added, glancing at his friend. “Any idea what that’s about?”

“Ah, that.” Stonecrop grinned. “Don’t worry about that. You’ll find out soon enough.”

[oppaihun]

Good evening, I've arrived with more Mist thoughts (with a touch of Alpha bc I love them being besties):

So I headcanon Mist as a knitter, who absolutely despises blankets because they're so time consuming and expensive. But one day she gets a wild hare to knit one, especially since the coming winter is forecasted to be far colder than normal. So she breaks her moratorium on blankets to knit a heavy lap blanket for Zephyr.

In Mist and Alpha's evening time parallel play, where they sit on opposite sides of the couch and do their respective hobbies, he decides to razz her about her sudden want to knit one. They're just sitting there and she's aggressively counting stitches, while he's trying to color match thread for a darning job. Omega had ripped a pair of his pants while out in the garden for a walk during a break on one of his infirmary shifts.

"I thought you hated knitting blankets, what changed your mind you ol softie" he would joke, threading the needle with his choice of thread.

Mist would look up for a short second from the mass of yarn in her lap to see that he's begun to repair a pair of Omega's pants.

"It's going to be a cold winter and I do care about others comfort" she responds, before recounting the row of stitches again.

"The only other ghoul I've seen you break for is Sunny, and we both know damn well she doesn't need one" Alpha laughs out, working a running stitch around the patch he was adding. He turns to look at her over his reading glasses, trying to break the cool, uncaring facade.

"You know it's for Zeph, now leave me be and continue sewing the ass back into your lover's pants" Mist jokes back, working through another row without looking up at him.

- @the-moon-in-the-gutter (also sorry if this is word salad I wanted to type it out but my brain is soup)

I love them so much I want the world on a silver platter just for them oh my god

[i-am-too-sick]

I couldn't resist writing some good, ole canonverse sickfic. It's really just a drabble, and definitely much more fluff than anything, but I hope y'all enjoy!

Fandom: Percy Jackson

Nico was sick. He had been for a few days now, and somehow Will still managed to look after him between infirmary duties and regular camp activities.

Will suspected it was the flu, after all, Nico had all the telltale symptoms. Despite what anyone else would have guessed, Nico was a pretty easy patient, though Will figured it was because Nico was just too sick to be stubborn or argue with him.

Nico stayed to himself in his cabin, which was exactly where Will found him when he popped in one more with a plate of breakfast.

"Good morning, star shine," Will sang as he made his way to Nico's bedside. "I know you're probably not hungry, but you know, food will help you get your strength back."

"Actually, I could go for a bite of toast this morning," Nico replied, taking the plate from him.

Will's eyes lit up, relief dropping his shoulders as a smile split his face. Easy patient or no, getting Nico to nibble on anything over the last few days had been like pulling teeth. Will understood his boyfriend hadn't had an appetite, but that didn't mean Will wasn't going to just let him starve himself either.

Will climbed into bed beside him, his thoughts drifting as he let Nico eat his breakfast in peace. Will had loaded the plate with toast, scrambled eggs, and fresh strawberries from the fields, not sure what, if anything, Nico would be willing to eat.

"Are you okay?" Nico asked suddenly, shattering the easy silence between them.

"What do you mean?"

Now, Nico seemed nervous. "I don't know," he mumbled, looking down at his plate, habitually twisting the skull ring on his finger. "You seem different today. You're quiet."

"Oh." A small smile graced his lips. "I'm all right. Sorry if I worried you."

Nico looked up at him then. "You look tired." To make his point, he reached over and cupped Will's chin, using his thumb to trace the bags under his boyfriend's eyes.

Will closed his eyes, relishing in the soft touch. "I guess I am a little tired," he admitted softly.

"Rest. Sleep here," Nico encouraged, and Will could have sworn he was whispering in his ear. "They can handle the infirmary without you for a while..."

~

A while somehow turned into a few hours. Will hadn't realized just how exhausted he was until Nico coaxed him into laying down, and by then he was sure he was out before his head even hit the pillow.

A hand on his shoulder is what finally caused him to wake, the incessant and forceful shaking enough to rouse someone from the dead.

Will's eyelids fluttered open, though he immediately had to close them, groaning softly. Someone was standing before him, that much he had seen, but the room had seemed to swirl in a mixture of colors and patterns, enough to make him feel disoriented.

"Will!"

That definitely wasn't Nico's voice. He cracked his eyes open again, finding a much more stable environment. He was met with the stern gaze of a fiery redhead, her natural hair still green in places where the dye hadn't fully grown out yet. Her hands were on her hips, and if Will hadn't known any better, he might have suspected he'd done something to offend her.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, noticing his voice sounded a little gravelly.

"I could ask you the same thing," Kayla responded, though she sounded more annoyed than actually mad.

Will forced himself to the edge of the bed, dragging himself to an upright position, his legs dangling over the side.

"Ugh... Everything's spinning," he groaned, running a hand down his face.

"You've been overworking yourself again, haven't you?"

Will didn't answer her. She was probably right, in fact, Will was sure of it, but even after sleeping as long as he had, Will still felt completely drained of energy.

He felt the bed behind him shift. Then, there was a hand on his shoulder, and another one wrapped around to feel his forehead.

"You're running a fever." Nico.

"I don't feel so good..."

"We got that, doofus," Kayla said, and Will could just imagine her rolling her eyes.

"I feel bad," Nico said, and it took Will's sluggish brain to realize that Nico wasn't talking to him.

"Don't," Kayla replied. "This was bound to happen sometime, and if not this, then I'm sure he'd wind up catching something from someone else. At least now maybe you can convince him to rest."

"Shouldn't we at least let him sleep in his own cabin?"

"I think he'd prefer being with you, don't you think? Besides, we can try to confine the germs to one place. We don't need a flu epidemic right here at camp."

Will felt another hand on his face, the callused fingertips indicative of someone skilled in archery.

"I'll bring you guys some supplies from the infirmary," Kayla continued, before Will heard her retreating steps and the sound of a door closing.

Will felt warm breath and then Nico's chapped lips along the nape of his neck. It was enough to send a convulsive shiver down his spine. It was either that or the start of fever chills.

Nico chuckled. "Okay?" he asked. "You still with me?"

Will finally turned around to face him. Now they both had the telltale flush of fever on their cheeks, Will's eyes betraying the fatigue that came with the beginnings of illness.

"Sorry," he breathed, apologizing for being so spacey. "My head feels funny, like I'm floating."

Nico's face turned sympathetic. "It's really hitting you hard, huh?" He tucked a stray curl behind Will's ear, leaning in to kiss his exposed cheek. "Lay down with me."

Will obliged, moving slowly to accommodate the ache in his muscles. He snuggled right up to Nico, curling up like a cat.

"Do you need me to get you anything?" Nico asked, stroking back Will's hair.

"You really shouldn't be getting out of bed," Will countered.

Nico's next laugh morphed into a dry cough. "Neither should you, now. You need to rest."

Will hummed, still sleepy despite having slept practically the entire morning. "We're pathetic, aren't we?"

"No," Nico snorted, "we're sick. If that makes me pathetic, then at least I get to be pathetic with you."

Will craned his neck, looking up at his boyfriend with a grin on his tired face. "Has anyone ever told you you're a real sap when you're sick?"

Nico pinched Will's thigh. "Zip it, Solace," he said, obviously embarrassed rather than upset. "Just go to sleep already."

"Yes, sir."

It didn't take long for Will to drift off. Based on his experience with Nico over the last few days, Will knew what was in store for him when he woke up later. But if he had to be stuck in bed and sick, at least he knew he wasn't alone.

[thelampisaflashlight]

Job Assignment

[Since it's a gloomy, windy day here on the ol' homestead, I figured why not do something a little fun? Let's go.]

By some stroke of luck, you've landed a job at the abbey, only problem is your application got lost somewhere during an unfortunate incident involving the sibling of sin delivering them to the front office and a flight of stairs.

How awful.

But, fear not!

We've got more where that came from, so if you would be so kind as to fill out this new application and...

Once we get this all cleared up, I'm sure everything will be just fine...