#tw: minor character death mention

[schrijverr]

I Didn’t Mean to Say I Do, but I Do. I Do. 47

Chapter 47 out of 50

Secret marriage of convenience buddie slow burn AU, where Buck and Eddie have been married for years so Buck could adopt Chris and no one at the 118 knows.

In this chapter, Eddie tries to convince the nurse at the VA hospital to let him go back out there with Athena as his backup, while Buck continues his search for Chris, which is getting more hopeless by the second.

On AO3.

Ships: Buddie

Warnings: self loathing, injury, minor character death mention, grief

~~~

Chapter 47: Don’t Give Up

Buck has been stumbling around for hours. His head is woozy and he feels weak. However, he keeps pushing, keeps going, keeps walking, keeps swimming. He has to just keep swimming. Like Dory. He can’t let Chris down.

He’s looked everywhere and it seems Chris has all but disappeared from the face of the earth. That has implications he doesn’t want to think about.

So, he doesn’t. He just keeps swimming.

Just keep swimming.

Just keep…

He tilts, but rights himself with a start, before rubbing his face to wake himself up. He can’t fall over now, he has to find Chris. Has to keep swimming.

In the distance, he sees lights. They’re swaying, but maybe that’s just him. Whatever, it doesn’t matter. What matters is getting there. People are collecting there. People are going there. Chris is people. Chris could be there. Buck just has to get there, just has to keep swimming a little longer.

The only thing that keeps him awake is the stabbing pain in his leg. He’s pretty sure that is not good, but he can’t think about that right now. Not when he’s just reached the VA hospital.

“Are you okay? Let me get your name and some help,” a nurse stops him.

“No.” Buck shakes his head. “No.” He can’t be helped yet, he can’t stop. If he stops, he sinks and he can’t sink. He has to keep swimming.

“No?” the nurse frowns.

“I need to find Chris,” he manages to get out. “Christopher Diaz. Did he come here?” Now that he’s close to getting a possible answer, adrenaline courses through his veins, propping him up enough to make it through this.

The nurse checks the papers. Neither of them can know that Christopher is at that very same hospital already, just a few meters away, his name on a list, but one that has not gone around to be updated yet. “I don’t see him on here. You may wanna check over there at the black tent.”

Buck turns slowly to see what the nurse is talking about. The black tent he indicated is a sad place, with body-bags being filled every moment as more and more of the dead are counted. The harsh reality of a natural disaster made visible.

In turning to look at the black tent, he does not see less terrible aspects of a natural disaster. The people that made it through, the people that have found a loved one, instead of lost them. Like Bosko and Ronnie, and even Eddie and Athena.

Athena, who assures Eddie she’s okay as she scans him for injuries, by saying: “Not my blood.”

“Ronnie?” Bosko asks the form on the stretcher, eyes wide with horror. Eddie’s eyes instantly follow her, managing to add it not being Athena’s blood up to it then being Ronnie’s.

However, luck is on their side here, because Ronnie manages to open his eyes, smiling tiredly as he asks: “Bosko?”

“Y- Yeah, it’s me. Everyone’s okay, they’re all okay,” Bosko cries.

“Tha’s- Tha’s good,” Ronnie nods haphazardly.

Bosko sends Eddie and Athena a worried look and Eddie waves her away. He has new back up now in the form of Athena. Bosko needs be to with her Captain. She’s done more than enough for him. He has family in his corner now, Bosko should be backing her own family.

“What’s going on here?” Athena asks, catching on that something is wrong.

“She’s not letting me go back out there,” Eddie answers immediately as he points at the nurse. He feels a bit like a little kid, tattling to his mom, but he doesn’t care. “Buck is out there, ‘Thena. He’s out there and she won’t let him look for him.”

Understanding dawns on Athena’s face and she says: “Bobby said you’d be out there looking. You still haven’t found him?”

Eddie’s throat feels tight as he swallows and shakes his head. “No.” The weight of that word heavy in his stomach. It’s been a while since he’s run into anyone who’d seen Buck and he knows what that can mean, even if he doesn’t want to face it. It’s why he has to go back out there. Has to find him.

Athena closes her eyes for a moment, as if processing a hit. Eddie can relate to the feeling, he’s been feeling it for hours now. He feels like he failed Buck. Like he failed everyone. He has always sucked at being a husband, but at least it didn’t get Shannon killed.

“Hey, don’t do that,” Athena says, seeing it on his face. “He’s out there, you can’t give up.”

His lip wobbles and he feels like he’s drowning, like the water clawed its way up his legs and crawled down his throat, forcing itself into his lungs and into his skull, pushing at his eyes as it fills him, drowns him. With quiet voice, he confesses: “I love him. I love him and I never said and now I might never get to.”

“Oh, Eddie,” Athena sighs, pulling him in a hug.

Eddie buries his face in the crook of her neck. He lets himself teeter on the edge of breaking down, shaking silent sobs, but never letting a tear fall. It’s hard to step back from that ledge when you’re already tumbling down. However, he forces himself to step back, to suck it up and look Athena in the eyes as he implores: “I have to go find him.”

Athena meets his eyes for a moment, then nods, before barking at the nurse: “Why are you keeping this man here against his will?”

The nurse looks surprised by the turn of events as she explains: “We want to avoid people getting lost in the dark, those who make it to the collection points have to wait there until they can be evacuated. I can’t let him go out there until he’s with his unit, especially not with a child.”

“Give Chris here.”

“What?”

“Give him here, I’ll keep him safe and send you out with some of my people, tell them to let you go your own way. Or maybe help you, if you’d like,” she says.

Relief and gratitude wash over him at the offer and he quickly undoes the sling, moving Chris from his back to his hip, before setting him down on the ground. He kneels in front of him, draping the blanket around his shoulder as he says: “You heard that, mijo? You’re gonna stay with Athena, so I can find papi for us.”

“No,” Chris shakes his head stubbornly. Eddie pinky promised that they’d find papi. They as in the two of them. Chris isn’t just going to be left behind.

Much like his son, Buck is stubbornly refusing to take what he’s being told. “No. No. No.” Again he’s shaking his head in denial. That black tent can’t be where today ends. Buck just needs to keep searching, needs to keep going, keep swimming. Chris is out there, he has to be. He can’t have killed Chris. His own son. Eddie’s son. Their child. He refuses to believe it.

An empty void, an ache, claws at his insides. It feels as if the pit of his stomach has turned into a black hole, trying to suck his entire being into it. He cannot continue to exist if Chris is truly dead. If Buck truly killed him. He- He just can’t.

“I’m really sorry, sir,” the nurse says sympathetically. However, it’s clearly not the first time he’s had to break terrible news to someone today.

“No!” Buck doesn’t want to believe it. Chris isn’t on the list. He’s not on there. They might have a list of the dead, but Chris isn’t there and until he sees Chris’s body, he’s not going to believe it. He refuses.

With almost inhuman willpower, he forces himself up. Up and moving. He can’t stop yet. He has to keep swimming. He has to get back out there. He was weak moments ago, but not now, not as he shrugs off the hand that tries to stop him.

“Sir. Sir! I can’t let you leave again,” the nurse protests as he grabs at Buck’s shirt to stop him, but Buck just keeps walking.

“Papi?” Chris’s voice interrupts Eddie’s patient explanation as to why Chris can’t come with him, no matter how badly they both want to.

The switch of his tone is enough for Eddie to pause, then he hears Buck’s voice and his head whips around as he practically gives himself whiplash.

Behind them, Buck in the middle of a commotion. There’s a nurse pulling at him and telling him to stop, while Buck stubbornly tries to walk on, walk back out into the dark.

Buck shouldn’t be standing. His face is all scratched up and there are multiple cuts on his arms bleeding sluggishly. To not even mention the way he keeps nearly buckling, nearly tilting over, even as he puts up a fight.

Despite it all, he looks like a mirage in the desert to Eddie, like a hero from the tales of old, persevering in the face of impossible odds.

Then it hits him that Buck is there. That he found him. That he is about to slip through his fingers once more, because he is absolutely winning that fight. The thought is enough to jolt him into action, calling out: “Buck! Buck!” Athena has Chris, he needs to run now, before Buck is gone. Before he loses him once more.

The yells don’t register. Buck is so focused on getting to the exit, getting out of here, shaking this weight, so he can keep going, keep swimming. So, he’s completely taken by surprise when a weight smashes into him from the side.

He lets out a groan as he is unbalanced. For a moment, he thinks he is being tackled, but whoever hit him is spinning so he can take Buck’s weight. Then the smell hits him. It’s waterlogged and the sweat scent is stronger than usual, however it’s unmistakably Eddie. It’s home.

His senses refocus and he can feel Eddie’s arms around him, hugging him tightly, the mop of brown hair right under his nose, as Eddie says: “Oh my god, I’m so glad I found you. I found you. You’re here. I got you.”

Buck feels frozen. He wants to melt into Eddie, wants to tuck himself into this bit of warmth, this bit of comfort. Today has been the worst day of his life and all he wants is the shelter Eddie has always offered him. The safety.

But how can he? How can he let Eddie comfort him, when he lost their son?

“Eddie…” he starts with no clue how to go on. His vision blurring and throat tightening until noise becomes almost too difficult.

“Buck?” Eddie asks, looking worried as he pulls back to take a better look at him.

He doesn’t deserve that worry, not with what he’s done. Eddie must not know, must not have realized what his presence here means. He’s in his firefighter uniform. He’s probably been out there helping people, oblivious to what has happened.

Right now, the choice to let Eddie do his job while Buck did his, seems monumentally stupid. He is not ready to break this news to Eddie. He probably never will be. However, he can’t keep this to himself, not for his own comfort. Eddie deserves to know. It will break them forever, but Buck is slowly starting to realize this might be something he can’t fix, because how do you fix the death of your child?

Buck takes a deep breath and says: “Eddie… We, uhm- me and Christopher, we were at the- the beach and, uhm- and listen to me, okay? I swear to you, okay, I tried. And I just- but I- Eddie. I- I don’t know how to say this, but I- I lost him.” His voice breaks and tears start up as he gasps: “I lost our son.”

Eddie is shaking his head and Buck knows the feeling. He also didn’t want to believe it, but it’s true. It’s what happened. It’s not until he said it, until he’s looked Eddie in the eyes and said it that it became real.

Chris is gone.

Their son is gone.

Grief hits him hard and he has to look away, but Eddie doesn’t let him. There’s a hand on his cheek, on his face and Eddie is forcing him to look him in the eye. Buck screws his eyes shut, not wanting to see the blame, the anger.

However, Eddie’s voice is gentle as he says: “Buck. Buck, look at me. You didn’t lose him. I got him, okay? I got him, you didn’t lose him. You saved him.”

Buck doesn’t believe it, eyes snapping open, but Eddie looks to be truthful and indeed, he can hear a voice that can’t belong to anyone other than Chris call out: “Papi! Papi!”

“Chris? Christopher,” Buck calls back, frantically looking around before he spots Athena coming up behind Eddie, carrying Chris in her arms.

Eddie steps to the side, never breaking the contact with Buck, just shifting so he can take Buck’s weight, while he moves to meet Chris in the middle.

Athena hands Chris over to Eddie, who immediately makes sure Buck can reach him. The two of them falling each other in the arms as it becomes a group hug. Chris’s curls are dry since so much time has passed, still smelling like he used to do as toddler, even if it’s buried under the smell of dirty sea water.

“Oh my god, Chris,” Buck cries, tears rolling down his face and into Chris’s hair as he weeps, hands gripping the back of both Eddie’s and Chris’s shirts so tightly. He never wants to let this moment go, never. He’s never been so relieved before. It doesn’t matter what has happened before right now, because he gets to hold his family again.

“Papi, we found you. We saved you like you saved me,” Chris says, excitedly and proud.

“You did, Superman, you did,” Buck smiles through his tears. It leaves him weak in the knees and he officially buckles as today finally catches up with hi,

Eddie makes sure to soften his descent, holding him closely as he lowers the three of them to the ground. If he weren’t so exhausted, he would be more obsessed with how strong Eddie is that he takes both their weight easily and controlled, even after what must have been a heavy day.

They end up on the ground with Buck sitting sideways between Eddie’s legs, leaning against his chest to stay upright. Chris is more on Buck’s lap than Eddie’s at this point. It shouldn’t be, but it’s the most comfortable Buck has felt all day.

“I got you,” Eddie promises and Buck swears he feels a brush of Eddie’s lips over his forehead when he does.

Though, it must be the exhaustion that overtakes him, because he starts to pass out. Still, the words – however imagined they may be – knit the skin of his heart together. He didn’t break this beyond repair and that brings a lightness to him, even if he only manages a crooked grin as he mumbles: “I know, you always got me,” and then he’s out.

When Buck goes slack in his arms, Eddie’s heart stops for a second, but then he feels puffs of breath against his neck. So when Chris gives him big worried eyes and asks: “Is papi okay?” he says: “Papi’s gonna be okay. We got him. Can you get off or do you need help?”

“I got him,” Bobby’s voice is suddenly next to them, picking Chris up after getting a nod from the boy.

“Cap?” Eddie can’t help but say, not having heard or seen them arrive, however, when he looks, the whole 118 is there.

“He was really out there?” Hen says with a concerned frown. “I mean, I know we’ve been looking, but it didn’t feel real.”

“Yeah, and I need a stretcher, right now,” Eddie calls out. He doesn’t have time to catch up with them. Buck needs him, Buck trusts Eddie to have him. He’s not going to let him down. Not again, never again.

Like professionals, Hen and Chimney spring into action as Eddie calls out orders for them to get a drip for Buck; fluids to replenish what he lost and antibiotics, he’s been out there in the filth with open wounds. There is no stretcher available, but there is a bed for Eddie to carry him to.

Despite not usually being the paramedic, the other two let Eddie push them out of the way as he does it all by himself. They give him some looks, but Eddie doesn’t doubt Bobby recounted his breakdown at the engine of the 136 to them. So they must know something about his state.

He’s probably also being obvious, but he doesn’t care. He almost lost Buck today, he’s never going to let him go, not without letting him know how sorry he is for running and how much Buck means to him. How much he loves him.

Eddie has been running, but trying to find a way back. To have a natural disaster push them back into each other’s orbit feels like a sign. If Eddie is ever going to believe in the universe, it will be because of this, because it gave Buck back to him, because it didn’t make someone he loves leave him again.

Pretty soon, Eddie got Buck hooked up and sleeping on a cot. He is efficient and good at his job and he does nothing but the best for his Buck.

With the work done, Eddie feels his own exhaustion catch up with him. So, he has collapsed onto the chair next to Buck’s bed, his hand in his own, Chris now on this lap. Together they watch Buck sleep.

To assure Chris, Eddie says: “Papi is sleeping like he was in the hospital, remember that, mijo? He had to rest so he could get better.”

“Yeah, he had to sleep for forever,” Chris nods. “It was so boring.”

Eddie snorts, then agrees: “Yeah, it was kinda boring, wasn’t it. But we’re gonna let him sleep, right?”

“Of course,” Chris says very seriously. Then he yawns and mumbles: “But only because I’m maybe a little sleepy too. He’s not allowed to be boring forever.”

“He won’t,” Eddie laughs, kissing the top of Chris’s head as he softly says: “Go to sleep, Chris. I’ll watch over him.”

“Alright, daddy, wake me up if papi does?” Chris ask.

“I will,” Eddie promises.

Chris drops off within seconds. It seems like that is the signal the others have been waiting for, because they move closer from where they’ve been hovering. Bobby speaks first: “Seems like you found him.”

“I did,” Eddie says cautiously.

“Seems like you followed my orders,” Bobby says, giving him a slightly mischievous look, as if he knows Eddie didn’t in the slightest.

Some of Eddie’s nerves settle at that and he grins. “I did. Bosko’s here too. Don’t say you doubted me?”

“Never,” Bobby tells him, placing a hand on his shoulder. Somehow, it doesn’t feel like he’s joking around anymore. Like he genuinely never doubted Eddie. It feels weirdly nice to be trusted like that, even when he knows he doesn’t really deserve it with how he fucked up these past few months.

Hen checks Buck over, Eddie doesn’t take offense, he keeps his fingers on Buck’s pulse to assure himself he’s okay. She looks up at Eddie and asks again: “Was he really out there all day?”

Eddie’s face darkens as he remembers today and he nods. “He was. Must have pulled at least two dozen people out the rubble or to safety on the way. I don’t know how he did it. A hospital’s gonna need to take a look at that leg again.”

“Guess he probably won’t be re-certifying in a month,” Chimney grimaces in sympathy.

“God, he’s gonna hate that,” Hen also sympathizes. “Pretty sure he was climbing the walls with the need to do something. Isn’t that right, Eddie?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” Chimney asks incredulously.

“I haven’t been home in two weeks,” Eddie says, unsure why he’s suddenly confessing all this. He can’t even look any of them in the eye, just staring holes in Buck’s forehead, to where one of his curls is sticking to it. He should straighten that out.

“What?” Hen chokes.

“You’re in the dog house, Diaz?” Chimney asks.

“I fucked up and I ran,” Eddie says with shame, before determination hardens him again. “But I’m gonna make it right. I’m not going to fuck up like that again. I’m doing better now. I just needed to get back and now I’m back.”

He misses the way everyone exchanges looks behind them. All of them have their own theories about what’s going on, however, this isn’t the moment to prod or push. So, Chimney breaks the moment by clearing his throat and saying: “I’m gonna call Maddie, tell her we found him.”

“Good idea,” Bobby says. “I’ll call the Chief, explain why I’m sending you home and getting some transport for Buck. He needs care for that leg.”

“Thank you,” Eddie says, meaning more than just the organization of right now.

Soon, he finds himself carrying a sleeping Chris on one hip, before carrying an equally unconscious Buck into the back of a van. No ambulance, because they can’t spare one, definitely not an air lift, because thankfully he’s not critical enough for that, but a van is already pretty good.

However, a van means it jolts more than an ambulance, especially with how rough the terrain is in the aftermath of a tsunami. So when there is a particularly hard bump, Buck blearily opens his eyes, not fully conscious, but not unconscious either.

Like the stubborn, lovable dumbass he is, he starts to get up, groaning something about needing to find Chris and needing to keep swimming.

“You found Chris,” Eddie assures him, letting go of Buck’s hand so he can push him back down, before he hurts himself. “Look, here. Chris is safe. Rest, Buck.”

“Christopher,” Buck says with a relieved smile when he spots Chris.

“Yeah, Christopher,” Eddie confirms, his heart bursting with love and affection. It’s probably written all over his face, but he can’t push it down, even if he wanted to.

Buck now looks at him, face clearing up as he exclaims: “Eddie! You’re here. You came back.”

“I did,” Eddie says, heart wrenching slightly at how awed Buck sounds when he says that. “And I’m never going to leave you again,” he adds, because he can never let Buck doubt that again.

“You promise?” Buck asks, vulnerable edge to his voice.

“I promise,” Eddie says, feeling equally vulnerable. It makes him a little uncomfortable, laying himself bare like that, so he jabs: “You’re stuck with me, Buckley. Married me and everything. You aren’t getting rid of me that easily.”

“Good. Don’t ever want to be rid of you,” Buck tells him with a goofy smile.

Eddie can feel the blush color his cheeks at that. He doesn’t know what that means yet, but it makes him feels warm and fuzzy inside. That horrible crush – deep love, but shush – creeping up on him and making him feel like a middle schooler writing his last name next to Buck’s and doodling hearts around it.

Fortunately, he doesn’t have to figure out how to react to that, because Buck slips back into unconsciousness immediately after.

Unfortunately, that doesn’t stop one of the elderly ladies they’re sharing the van to wistfully comment: “Och, young love,” which makes Eddie’s ear burn. It’s going to be a long drive to the hospital.

~~

A/N:

No, confession, I know, boooo, but I wanted to keep it a Chris moment, because that scene in canon rips me to shreds every single time and then it didn’t fit with the vibes.

However, fear not, the slow burn is almost a flame! (would be kind of rough if it wasn’t with only three more chapters to go, but still). Let’s see if Eddie can keep up that talking streak when outside a disaster zone xp

[the-broken-pen]

Hey hey

Could you perhaps write a snippet where the building hero is in, gets bombed? Its bombed as an assassination attempt to get them, however the people in that building die and hero, succumbed to their injuries couldn't save everyone of them. At last they watched the last ambulance left without them, even as they called for help

Villians villa is just few kilometres away

Thankfu hero's legs aren't broken

They begin walking

The problem? Vil is way to composed and prim and perfect to let all of hero's blood get on their expensive carpets and fabrics. They could even be mad at the hero for reddening their porch if they hero stood their asking for bandages. What now? And the fight the two had yesterday that ended with "never see me again" and "don't ever talk to me"s.....vil was stopping hero from attending the event the building....

Will vil help them? They can just ask for bandages and leave.

What hero doesn't know: vil would literally destroy the world for hero, and there's no way in hell are they leaving hero on their doorstep.

(Anon you were cooking with this ask, thank you!)

The hero realized the building was going to explode a split second before it did, which wasn’t enough time to do anything other than brace.

They tensed, and there was a horrible screeching of metal and brick, followed by a deafening silence that covered them more completely than the rubble did.

The hero coughed once, weakly, pain rocketing through their chest, and shoved a piece of concrete off themself.

From somewhere else in the building, a soft, terrified wail began, broken around desperate sobs.

The hero coughed again, hand rising to their ribs. They didn’t have the energy to be surprised when their fingers came back coated in blood and dust. They grimaced at it, struggling to their feet–

And oh, god. That hurt.

The hero had a surgery once, the kind that resulted in bandages and a care regime and a set of stitches, and when they had woken up in the recovery unit, it had felt sort of like this. A moment of loopy half-awareness, and then a pain that had knocked the breath out of them, hands clenching into the sheets as a nurse tried to figure out if they needed more medication. 

This was worse. Their vision swam, and they blinked it back with a hiss.

Because someone, somewhere in the wreckage, was crying. And if one person was crying, it meant there was someone who survived. Which meant it was likely there were other survivors–ones too hurt to make any noise, ones knocked unconscious, ones still too shocked to do anything other than lay there–and it was the hero’s job to find them.

It took them far too long to locate the source of the crying. Longer to dig them out, vision going white as the person slammed into the hero’s chest in some facsimile of a terrified hug.

“You’re okay,” they managed, voice like gravel. “It’s okay. I’m going to get you out, and you’re going to be just fine. Were you with anyone?”

And then again, and again, and again.

The hero panted, hands on their knees as their body fought them in an attempt to just collapse onto the concrete below. They just–they just needed a minute. Just one, maybe, and then they could–

This time, the hero wasn’t even aware of it before it happened.

The remains of the building shook, then disintegrated into itself in a plume of dust and rock. The hero shielded their eyes with one hand, blinking against the onslaught.

What little air they had managed to get stuttered out of their lungs in something close to a sob. They had done this enough times to know there wasn’t anyone in that building left alive. 

They sagged down against the nearest thing–more rubble, maybe? They didn’t know–and this time when they rested a hand on their side, there was a considerably larger amount of blood.

“That’s…not great,” they said, and their fingers blurred in front of them slightly. There was an ambulance right there. Just a couple feet away. They had already helped most of the survivors, so maybe it would be okay for the hero to–

A paramedic rounded the back of the ambulance, and the hero lifted a hand, reaching–

“Please, wait, I think–I think,” it hurt coming out of their mouth, “help. Please I need–” they trailed off as the paramedic took the step up into the ambulance.

And closed the door behind them.

The hero wasn’t even that surprised when the ambulance began to drive away.

“Help,” they finished weakly, then sucked a breath in through their nose.

They were supposed to be good at this kind of thing. Surviving, no, thriving in catastrophe. A pillar of light. The one with the plan. 

The kind of being that didn’t beg for help on the ground.

The hero wasn’t entirely sure how they managed to get themselves back to standing. It was as easy as that–one moment they were on the ground, gravel embedded in their knees, and the next they were up and shaking but they were up.

“If I stay here, I’ll die,” they murmured. They had hoped maybe the threat would keep their legs from buckling again. It didn’t.

They weren’t near any place that could be trusted. There wasn’t a safe clinic for heroes on this side of the city, and even if there was, the hero wouldn’t trust them. Couldn’t afford to.

But as for near…the hero swallowed the nausea as it rose in their throat. There was one place they could go. One person they could go to.

Four miles. They could do four. There was no other option.

Where the hero had had some blurry recollection, or at least, a good guess of how they got to standing, they had absolutely no clue how they made it onto the villain’s porch. They managed a blink, retching slightly as they stared at the villain’s wavering door, then had to freeze just to bite down the pain that had come from the gagging.

They tried to knock and ended up collapsing against the villain’s door, knees giving out entirely as their fingers scrabbled for purchase and left behind smeared bloody marks on the wood.

They weren’t entirely sure how that happened either, or how long it took the villain to answer the door. Just that it hurt—so, so much, it hurt so–and that they managed to shove themself back into some semblance of standing right before the villain pulled the door open.

The villain’s face did a sort of spasming thing as soon as they saw the hero, jaw dropping slightly in what the hero could only really read as shock.

There was a very considerable amount of blood on the door. They were cold.

“I–” the hero tried, but they weren’t really sure where they had been going with that sentence, and after yesterday and the screaming and the fight the villain probably didn’t want to see them at all, didn’t want to ever see their face again, so–their mind blanked. “I got blood on your door.”

They tried to gesture towards it, but that hurt, so their hand simply twitched slightly from where it hung by their side.

They glanced down at their feet, because they didn’t want to see what the villain’s face was doing, especially if what it was doing was anything resembling anger.

“Oh.” There was blood at the hero’s feet. “And on your porch, too, I guess.”

They looked up at the villain, but they were still staring at them, brow furrowed, hand clenching on the doorframe.

“I’m sorry.”

There was a very faint quiver of tears when they said it, and the hero knew better than to hope the villain didn’t catch it. 

Were they saying sorry for the porch or the door or yesterday–

“Holy shit,” the villain finally breathed, and it sounded like it had been punched out of them. The hero froze, panic rising in their chest.

“I’m sorry,” the hero blurted out, stammering. “I’m–I’m so sorry, I’ll go, just–could I maybe have some bandages? Just–just one, maybe, please? I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” they said uselessly, head swimming. They couldn’t even remember what they were doing here. The villain was perfect in every sense of the word, stoic and proper and collected in a way the hero would never be; a marble statue brought to life. The idea of them letting the hero–the personification of a train wreck in motion–in to bleed all over the villain’s soft carpet and nice shoes and cause irreparable damage to their very expensive house was almost laughable. 

If they had had the breath to laugh.

More of the hero’s blood dripped onto the slats of the porch, and they stepped back. “I’m sorry–”

The villain reached for them, and the hero flinched, taking it for the dismissal it was–

The hero blinked, and it stuck for a moment too long as the world tilted, and when they pried their eyes open again the villain was staring at them with something the hero was too out of it with pain and possibly delirium to identify. Their gaze drifted back to the blood smeared on the door, and the villain’s grip tightened on the hero’s bicep–when had they grabbed the hero’s bicep?–until the hero’s gaze returned to theirs.

The villain said something, but there was a roaring that had started up in the hero’s ears. They seemed to take the uncomprehending blink the hero gave them in return for an answer anyways, and guided them down until they were both sitting on the cool wood. A tug, and the hero was resting against their own propped up knees, villain’s hand still firm on their arm.

“How much blood did you lose?”

It was like screaming underwater, the hero reasoned. Or through a mirror. But they heard it nonetheless, and that was their villain, and even in hatred and war they would always answer them.

“Was ‘supposed to be counting?” If they had any more energy–or maybe slightly more blood–in their body, the slur to their own words would have been concerning.

The villain’s lips pursed into a thin line, and the hero felt them begin to run an assessing hand over their injuries, cataloguing them, brow furrowing further with every second.

“M’sorry,” they managed, tongue thick. The villain didn’t pause.

“For what?”

“Bleeding on your door,” they managed. The villain stopped them from raising their head from their knees. “And your–porch.”

“I don’t give a shit about either of those things,” the villain said, simply, easily. Like it was nothing. Like they didn’t feel the weight of it as they threw it into the air.

The villain sat back on their heels, clearly having learned what they wanted from the hero’s injuries.

When the hero didn’t immediately look at them, the villain grabbed their chin, gently turning it until the hero faced them.

“How far did you walk,” they said slowly, and the hero had never been more grateful for anything in their life.

“Four miles,” the hero said, and they couldn’t hear their own voice above the roaring, but the villain obviously could from the way their eyes darkened.

The hero wanted no part in making the villain angry again–I never want to see you again, do you hear me? If you ever try to talk to me again I will kill the both of us, I promise you that–, but when they attempted to push themselves up to leave, the only thing they managed was a piteous whine and a stab of pain so intense they forgot to breathe.

“Idiot,” the villain hissed. But oddly, the hero didn’t sense any anger coming from the villain.

They blinked–too long, again–and found themselves in the villain’s arms as they walked through the house. Their head lolled back onto the villain’s shoulder, and the villain glanced down as if–to make sure the hero was okay. That they were conscious, and breathing.

Oh.

Oh.

The villain wasn’t angry.

They were afraid. For the hero.

Which didn’t make any sense, because–

I never want to see you again–

“You’re mad at me,” the hero reasoned, and it came out half strangled and petulant. The villain looked down at them, and the hero caught the tiniest flinch in their jaw.

“I’m not mad at you.”

“That’s not what you said yesterday,” the hero whispered, and the villain flinched.

“I wanted to stop this from happening.” The villain settled them onto a bathroom counter, lights flickering on as the hero leaned back against the mirror. Blood began to dry, sticky, between their fingers.

The hero’s mouth went dry, and it caught in their throat when they tried to swallow it.

“You could have just left me there.” Their voice only shook a little bit, but the villain’s head still snapped up from where they had been digging through a drawer.

“What?”

“On the porch,” the hero clarified, clearing their throat. The lump didn’t go away, and they had begun shaking at some point, and they couldn’t stop. “If you didn’t want to deal with me you could have just left me there–”

The villain’s face had darkened into something the hero almost didn’t recognize. 

“I would burn the world for you, and you think I would leave you to die on my porch?”

“You said you didn’t want this to happen.”

“No, that’s not–” the villain rubbed a hand over their brow, and the hero winced at the blood it left behind. “No. No, that’s not what I meant. I was trying to keep you from going to that stupid event and getting hurt. I knew it was going to blow.”

“I would have gone anyway.”

The villain stilled. “I thought maybe if you never wanted to see me again, and you knew I was there…”

“I would,” the hero repeated. “Have gone anyway.”

The hero watched as the villain’s face rippled through a dozen emotions, settling onto something unidentifiable.

“Why?”

“Because you were there,” the hero said easily, shrugging one shoulder. Because when it came to the villain, it really was that easy. They could scream, and shout, and hold a knife to the hero’s throat, and the hero would still follow them into hell. That was their villain.

The villain looked like the hero had stabbed them, face draining of color. Their fingers went white around the edge of the counter, as if it was the only thing keeping them upright.

“What,” the villain’s voice was hoarse.

“I went because I was hoping you would be there,” the hero said honestly

“Stop,” the villain raised a hand between them, a shield, voice breaking. They sucked in a breath, then another, like they were trying to keep themself from breaking down onto the tile.

“You would have gone to the event no matter what, just to see me,” the villain said slowly, and the hero nodded

“Yes.”

“Even though I screamed at you?”

“Yes.”

“And told you I hated you.”

“Villain, please–”

“Now you know,” the villain interrupted, voice incredibly soft. “Why I would have never left you on that porch.”

The hero forgot to breathe for a moment, tongue going numb in their mouth. The villain couldn’t mean–

They blinked for a moment too long, and then the villain was standing between the hero’s knees, hand on their chest.

“You love me,” the hero said a moment later.

“Ruinously,” the villain agreed.

“So you–”

“I was trying to save your life,” the villain’s hands were gentle as they began to patch up the hero’s side. “And now I’m saving your life in a new and unanticipated way. But there is nothing you could ever do to stop me from saving your life.”

The hero’s heart clenched. 

“Really?”

The villain caught their chin, eyes boring into the hero’s. They brushed a piece of hair off the side of the hero’s face.

“Really.”

The hero sighed, and the villain caught them as they slumped.

“I thought you hated me,” the hero said, and they hated how raw they sounded. The villain made a choked little noise.

“I’m so sorry.”

The hero sniffed.

“Don’t do it again.”

The villain simply hummed, and smoothed the ends of a bandage down against the hero’s abdomen. The hero could feel their hands shaking.

You scared me.

A second later, their hands settled on either side of the hero’s head, and the villain rested their face into the hero’s hair. They pressed a kiss to the hero’s temple, tension easing from their shoulders.

I’m sorry.

The hero clutched the front of the villain’s shirt between their hands, drawing them closer. The villain went willingly, loose limbed with affection and the rapid draining of terror from their system.

“I would have never left you on that porch.”

The hero had never believed anyone more.

[ladykailitha]

Grief (A Friend Indeed) Part 7

And now you see why I waited until I had this part written before posting the last one? That was one hell of a cliffhanger. Also everyone gets a dig at Al in this. It's family bonding event. But Steve has the best burn I think.

Just a heads up, Steve talks about being abused...heads up if that's a trigger for you.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

***

Steve placed his hand on Eddie’s back the second he felt his friend stiffen next to him.

“Deep breath, Eds,” he murmured. “There is nothing he can say to you that I will let him get away with, okay? Deep breath. Let me and Wayne handle this.”

Eddie let out a deep breath. “Just careful, Stevie. He’s been known to charm snakes out of their skin.”

Steve’s jaw clenched. So that’s the kind of man he was. He knew that kind of man intimately. His own father was like that. He knew what to watch for now that he had been forewarned.

He plastered a solemn expression on his face, that to everyone who didn’t know him well enough would think sincere, but to Eddie and Wayne, they could see the hard set line of his jaw as he kept one eye on Al and the other on the proceedings.

The funeral wrapped up and everyone lined up to throw dirt on the now lowered coffin. Al tried to get directly behind Eddie, but Steve seamlessly inserted himself between them.

Al bristled but the portly man next to him coughed and he was forced to back down.

Finally the family was all that remained as they all walked back to the church.

The portly man stuck to Al like glue and Steve felt a sudden warmth for the boys in blue at that moment. Because he was pretty sure that even though Al Munson had been granted a furlough, someone was paying to keep that man on a short leash.

The family and a small handful of friends arranged themselves on the pews and waited.

It wasn’t too long until a funny little man with thick bottled glasses came hurrying in.

“I’m sorry Mrs Nelson,” he twittered to Penny. “I had a hard time getting to the church.”

Penny just nodded. “It’s all right Mr Mulbury, you’re here now, that’s all that matters.”

He walked up the pulpit and put his briefcase on it. He pulled out a piece of paper of it and then walked back around the pulpit, leaving the briefcase where it was.

“Ehhm,” Mr Mulbury coughed. “The last will and testament of Gina Munson goes as follows...”

He read it out, people getting little trinkets and things that were meaningful to them, instructions on what to do with her clothes and other things that wouldn’t be given to friends or family.

And then it came time to divide up her meager savings. “My savings of five thousand dollars will be divided three ways. To Penny, you get a thousand to repair that lovely house of yours. I know you didn’t want anything, but use it for your family, dearest girl. Love you all the best.”

Penny laughed a watery little chuckle. She shook her head fondly.

“To Wayne, you get two thousand dollars to finally get that motor home you always wanted. When the time is right, retire and see the world like you always dreamed of. See the stars, my beautiful boy. You deserve stars.”

Wayne teared up, coming down in rivers down his face. Both Steve and Eddie hugged him tight.

“To Allen, who had squandered every good thing he every had, his loving wife, his devoted son, his talents and his good sense, you get nothing. You deserve nothing. If you are here to hear this, I hope it is because the state of Texas deemed it so, and not because you have been set loose again on the world.”

There was a gasp from those gathered and they descended into harsh whispers as they wondered aloud who got the remaining two thousand dollars.

Mr Mulbury cleared his throat. “Instead the remaining two thousand will be given to your son, Edward. Through your actions that boy has suffered so, and because of your actions he will receive not only the money, but all my love as well. Live your dreams, Eddie. Be that star for your uncle. Shine brighter then even that of Polaris. Butterfly kisses into the sunset, darling boy.”

Now Eddie was crying too. Two thousand wouldn’t get him far, but it could get him started. He raised a shaking hand to his quivering lips. Steve grabbed his shoulder and squeezed it.

Eddie looked over and Steve mouthed, “you deserve it.”

He nodded back.

Finally there were some other little things to be wrapped up in the will and then it was all over.

Everyone stood and Steve looked over at Al for the first time since they entered the church. The man had a smile plastered on his face that sent chills down Steve’s spine. Whenever his father wore that expression it meant trouble for someone, usually Steve.

They mingled for a bit, waiting until Penny’s friend came back to tell her that dinner was ready for them. Penny, Wayne, Steve, and Eddie all clustered together while everyone else gathered in other groups.

People were coming up and telling Eddie how much he deserved the money and how much his grandmother loved him. It made Steve puff out his chest in pride.

Finally Al came over and all four of them stiffened.

“Eddie, my boy!” Al greeted warmly. “You’ve grown so much since I last saw you. You’re spitting image of your old man.” He lifted a handcuffed hand with a jaunty little wave. “I’d hug ya, but I’m on a bit of a leash.”

Penny bristled. “I paid good money for that leash, I’m glad to see it working.”

The men turned to her in shock.

“Did you know,” she said through gritted teeth, “that the state of Texas was going to let him come to the funeral without a guard to make sure he didn’t escape? And that you actually have to pay for that service?”

Al grinned. “Ah...Penny-elle-oh-pee, you shouldn’t have.” His voice dropped low and menacing. “You really shouldn’t have.”

The portly man nudged him with his elbow. Al straightened up, his charming mask firmly in place.

Wayne shook his head. “Al, Al, Al...you never did know when to fold and when to call.”

Al turned to his brother for the first time. “Big brother always watching out for everyone and never getting ahead. How much they pay you at that workhouse? You know the one, the one that took Dad’s life?”

Wayne grinned. “Pretty good considering we union’ed up about five years ago. Which would have known if you actually read any of the letters I sent you. Just like you would have known about what Eddie looks like now...”

Steve hurried to cover his snort, but Al whipped his head his direction.

“And who the hell are you?”

Steve eyed him with a raised eyebrow. “Steve Harrington, my mother is Sophia Kincade, of the Lexington Kincades and a good friend of your son’s.”

Al turned to Penny. “Why he is here with family?”

Wayne bristled. “This is the boy that saved your son during that major earthquake we had earlier this year. Another thing you’d know if you’d read my damn letters. He deserves to be here just as much as you if not more so.”

Just then Penny’s friend came in and told them that dinner was ready for the family.

Al ran his tongue over his teeth and grinned. “Hey, Bernie, how much time have we got?”

The portly man looked at his watch. “We’ve got about an hour before we have to leave to catch our flight.”

Penny furrowed her brow but knew she couldn’t deny him dinner as much as it grated.

The friends that had been at the reading made their goodbyes and soon everyone else was filing into cars.

Penny and her family in her blue Chevy, Steve, Eddie and Wayne in his BMW, and Al and Bernie in an unmarked Crown Vic.

They get to the house and the scents of a home cooked meal waft from the open front door.

They all go sit down at the table, Danny and Wayne pulling out two more chairs for their unwelcomed guests.

Steve was disappointed to see that not only was there enough food to feed Al and Bernie, but that there was enough food to feed a fucking army.

Penny’s friend’s name is Lucy and her daughter Beth is one of Lauren’s friends, too. They’re both blonde with bright blue eyes and curvy bodies.

They are bustling around the table making sure everyone has enough food.

About half way through dinner Al speaks up. “So you still playing that guitar of yours, Ed?”

Eddie stiffened. “I’ve got a red NJ Warlock that I play now.”

“Ooh...fancy,” Al whistled. “You steal it?”

Lauren and Wayne bristled, but Eddie scoffed. “No, but I did steal an RV once while on the run wanted for murder, but they were a bunch of pricks anyway.”

Wayne and Steve stifled a laugh while the rest of the family looked as though they weren’t sure if he was telling the truth or not.

“Cleared of all charges,” Steve added with a sly smile. “Court ruled it extenuating circumstances.”

It was Eddie’s turn to hide his smile in his napkin.

Al’s mood darkened. He didn’t like being out of the inside joke. “You gonna do anything with the talent I gave ya, teaching you how to play on that beat up ‘ole six string?”

This time Eddie rankled. How dare AL imply that he had anything to do with his ability to play guitar? As if the real reason wasn’t sitting right there at the table.

Steve put his hand on Eddie’s shoulder, calming him.

“Was that before or after you taught him how to hotwire a car?” he asked, faux innocence.

Al sputtered.

“See, I always got the impression,” Steve continued, “that instead of teaching Eddie how to play guitar or throw a ball you were too busy trying to make sure your son followed in your footsteps straight into the penitentiary.”

Eddie’s eyes went wide with barely contained glee.

“While Wayne on the other hand,” he said scratching his temple, “was working hard to put on the table, get Eddie through school, and give him the best life he could given the hand you dealt both of them. Now, I’m just some outsider, but I know what it’s like to have a shit dad.”

The room was stock still. Steve didn’t think that they were even breathing at this point, but he pressed on.

“Didn’t fit into the box he built? He hit me. Didn’t get captain my sophomore year, something that had never been done ever? He hit me. Didn’t date the right girl? He hit me. Ditched my asshole friends? He hit me. Now, I don’t know if you’re cut from the same cloth or not. I don’t give a fuck. But you tell another lie like that one to these honest folk, and Officer Bernie here will be taking you back to Texas in a body bag.”

Al jumped to his feet, but before he could even twitch Steve’s direction Bernie whipped out a taser and zapped him with it. Soon he was doing a different kind of twitching.

On the floor.

Bernie began clapping and soon everyone else was too.

Steve blushed. “To think I could have been like that asshole if it wasn’t for getting some sense knocked into me by people who actually gave a damn. I’m sorry he ruined dinner.”

Penny scoffed. “Dinner isn’t ruined. Wayne, Danny please help the kind officer take out the trash.”

Officer Bernie chuckled. “Much appreciated, ma’am.”

Wayne and Danny stood up and helped him take Al back into the Crown Vic.

Wayne went through and made sure that Al didn’t steal anything or had anything that might be a danger to the good officer. He never had trusted Al, even as kids and he sure the hell wasn’t going to start now.

Soon the officer was on his way and the family sat down to eat the dinner that was so wonderfully prepared in peace. Like Gina had always intended.

Wayne smiled at Steve. He was proud of how he had stood up to Al for his boy.

****

Pt 8|Pt 9|Pt 10|Pt 11|Pt 12

Tag list: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @artiststarme @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @pyrohonk ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @chaoticlovingdreamer @messrs-weasley @goodolefashionedloverboi @maya-custodios-dionach @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @danili666 @carlyv @rozzieroos @emly03 @wonderland-girl143-blog @justforthedead89 @bookworm0690 @itsall-taken @bookbinderbitch @redfreckledwolf @vecnuthy @littlewildflowerkitten @scheodingers-muppet @mira-jadeamethyst @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @gutterflower77 @genderless-spoon @hel-spawn @ellietheasexylibrarian @anne-bennett-cosplayer @mamafaithful @yikes-a-bee @dragonmama76 @flaming-reauxster

[cosmicourple]

Ithaca is a cursed island,,,

Filled to the brim with Rot and decay, echos of a world no longer there, unforgiving to exist in,

Plant Life is dark and beautiful, thick ‘wood’ of dark forests gnarled and scarred with many Spats for Țerritory, howling gleefully through The Nights of Forever.

What is Society Anymore ??? What is Warmth or Shelter Anymore ???

why would she not listen to us why would she turn away from us.

Up on the surface, the Palace remains still, forever shining with rust and silver Moonlight, choking within its own aching stone skin.

While below,,,

The Halls groan with seemingly endless emptiness, pitch black to A Mortal’s eye But to ŤħœŘ unďŸıñğ ĞÄżœê—-

Somewhere Unknown, a mourning choir of Voices sing of the Land that’s Deities have turned them away, chanting together in rare shaken Unity ,,,while The Queen watches, humming along, a sound like velvet, pondering on what to do of Ț(ę Ťrä8þǒř,ß once She ŠÊŒŞ them Æġåñ,,,,,,,,,

(Deep deep down below, a Young One sings to a navy cloak, waiting, waiting, patient, patient, for they promised they would be back soon, waiting, waiting, waiting for them to come back, şħäðøŵș þřãłǐňġ bęhĩņď a Fořm Óf Ťħŷ 6ØÐ ÞǑ ĆŌMÆ FÕ ŤĦŒẞ ȚĮMÆŁĪŅ6ẞ—->- with fresh blood and meat not far behiņď in their claws, waiting, waiting, for a little feast to be brought for His their child, waiting, singing, waiting-)

, survival is all there is now. All there is to try.

[eeboshmeebo]

👁️I see you, and I love you.👁️

Part 2 of Perfection in Pettiness.

================================================

[(︶-︶)]

You held Monoma's hand as you both walked back home from the comic store, a brand-new series of Belgian comics and groceries you were tasked to buy in tow. It was peaceful with only the slightest hints of tension until he started talking.

"Hey, darling?" He asked, glancing at you with a worried look on his face as you both continued walking back to UA.

"Hmm? Yes, my love? What is it?"

He looked around, biting his inner cheek as his face scrunched up slightly, but decided to say it anyways.

"I... I'm worried about Itsuka, you know? She went on a date with a guy along with Pony who came along to make sure everything's alright and she texted the rest of the class about it, but we haven't seen her. Not recently, anyways."

Your hand tightened around his own as you both walked through the city, pulling him closer so he wouldn't be on the crosswalk for too long while walking.

"Yeah, I'm worried too. All we can do is hope for the best and trust her, along with Pony, okay? I'm sure Vlad and the rest of the teachers know what's going on."

You were a bit annoyed at the mention of the two girls. He couldn't know, though, so you just masked it with nervousness and a reassuring squeeze of his hand along with a smile. That seemed to do the trick, as he seemed less nervous than before as he followed you.

The walk back to UA was pretty quick, fueled by both his worry and your 'worry' for your classmates from 1-B.

[◉_◉]

In the class lounge, after you had put the groceries away, Monoma was on the couch reading the first volume of the comics he had bought.

Of course, you were right next to him. Or, more accurately, you had your chin on his lap, looking up at him with your knees on the ground and your hands on his thighs.

"How's the comic so far, love?"

He peeked past the comic, setting it down and sighing right before he patted your head.

"I'm too stressed to really focus on it right now, with two classmates missing and the test we have in two weeks. AND I'm still working on the slideshow to prove that we're superior to that other class! That's a lot of work!"

He flopped on the couch, another sigh escaping his lips before turning into a gasp of surprise when you moved on top of him to lay your face on his chest.

"How about a little cuddling to relieve some of that stress, then?"

"Hmmmmnnnhhh..."

"I know you want to, to have a little break from it all..."

"Nnnnnnnnn..."

"I'm right here already half-cuddling you, my love."

"Fiiiiine."

He whined, but he wrapped his arms around you and nuzzled into your hair despite his initial protest. You could tell he still wasn't used to this with how fast his heart was beating through his chest, but you loved every bit of him

From the smallest hair to the largest organ.

He was perfect. He is perfect. Flaws were perks in your eyes. You love him.

You love him.

You snuggle against his chest, enjoying the warmth of the shared moment, the closeness, the scent of the clothes he wears, the firmness of his body. Everything.

No shame in taking a little nap.

A few minutes later, he had noticed you fell asleep, so he let a smile rise on his face before carrying you to your dorm.

(⓿◡⓿)

The next morning, you woke up with him by your side along with a few books. Oh, such a delightful sight, you wished you could just lock him up and keep him to yourself forever and ever...

But Neito wouldn't be Neito without the attention of the masses. The attention that made him glow with pride and joy, that gave him purpose. You understood, since he was your purpose anyhow.

"Good morning, my love."

You kissed his forehead and rubbed the crust out of his eyes as he woke up slowly, mumbling about something incoherent. You had your arms around him, which you retracted so he could sit up by himself.

"Feeling like having something for breakfast, love?"

He turned slightly to look at you.

Oh, how you loved those eyes and those lips. Not even the 'morning breath' could keep you from staring at those lips which sounded out 'crepe'. Crepes for breakfast? A classic. You were far too busy listening to his melodic tone than his actual words, so you hoped that you were correct.

"Crepes, huh? Alright," You sat up from the bed, stretching. It was pretty early in the morning, if the sun peeking over the horizon hinted towards anything. You stood up, looking towards him...

"Hmm. I can bring breakfast to you if you want-"

"Noooooo! I wanna watch you make em'..."

You grinned at how he whined and clung onto you even while he was still bleary from just waking up so early. He was clearly unused to waking up at this time, so you let him be.

"Okay, okay, and you can watch. Just don't touch the pan."

"Mmm-hmm."

He followed you out of the room and to the dorm kitchen, where you prepped the ingredients and washed from dishes from last night that your classmates probably forgot to do after dinner.

You let Neito choose what fruits and fillings he wanted in the crepe. He always chose the best things. He's perfect...

Soon after you finished washing the dishes, you took out a flat crepe pan from the cabinet, greasing it with butter and letting it heat it up on the stove before mixing the flour and other dry ingredients together.

Neito watched as you cooked, as you let the batter spread over the pan and how it cooked before you put it on a cutting board, put all the fillings inside and a small drizzle of syrup on top, and gave the finished crepe to him.

"Tell me when you want another, okay? I've got plenty of batter left."

"Okay!"

You focused on cooking, since everything you cooked for him had to be perfect. It had to be, only perfection was worthy of perfection, and to you, Neito was the pinnacle of all perfection.

Some of your classmates were roused by the scent of cooking. Of course you made crepes for them, but without any of the fancy flair you put in Neito's crepes.

Blatant favoritism, but it was excused since everyone knew you loved him. Just not how much.

"Man, Kendo would love these! Too bad she hasn't come back yet, along with Pony." said Tetsutetsu, while shoving a crepe into his mouth. He never really cared for taking time while eating, though it was a bit endearing.

"I think she'll be back eventually. We just gotta hold out hope."

Empty words came out of your mouth, because there was one thing you knew that nobody else didn't.

Pony Tsunotori and Itsuka Kendo weren't coming back.

Pony was sweet, but she saw too much. A witness. Witnesses had to be rid of.

They won't find the bodies.

That thought made the strawberry in your mouth taste both sweeter and sourer. A pity she had to go, but it was necessary. You couldn't risk her telling anyone.

You held Neito's hand for comfort. She'd never tell anyone anything ever again, and it was all for him.

================================================

I'm sorry Pony, and Itsuka, but sacrifices had to be made for the plot! ಥ_ಥ

[yeetmeoutthewindowdaddy]

Love is an open wound

Zevlor x Rolan, past Zevlor x Kanon.

Inspired by this post, which I misread. 🤦‍♀️

Warnings: Angst, hurt/comfort, spoilers, mild canon divergence for Act 1, panic attack, nightmares, horror, body horror, semi-graphic depictions of violence, PTSD symptoms, nonconsensual enthrallment, nonconsensual use of the Calm Emotions spell (consent is given after), survivors guilt, (minor) character deaths, canon character deaths (more like Kanon character death).

______________________________________________________________

The Absolute had been defeated and peace, or as much peace that a city such as Baldur's Gate could hope to have, had been restored. Ravenguard had managed to purge the worst of the corruption which had infested the highest reaches of government, and the city had been rebuilt.

The tiefling refugees were thriving in the port-city. Alfira had almost a dozen music students. Dammon's forge had months worth of commissions lined up, with more coming in everyday. Rolan had become the Master of Ramazith's Tower and business was booming at Sorcerers Sundries. He had also recently opened a free public library that anyone was welcome to use— so long as they treated the books and scrolls with due care. Bex and Danis had recently adopted a cat. Zevlor had refound his faith and was a paladin once more.

Zevlor was also in a committed relationship with Rolan. To say he was shocked when the mage had approached him after the elder brain had been defeated and asked him on a date would be an understatement. Zevlor was dubious anent the younger man's desires; why would a powerful, young, handsome man like Rolan want an old, washed up, soldier such as him? But Rolan was nothing if not determined, and after much reassurance Zevlor allowed himself to give into his "selfish" desires, and now (just over a year and a half later) they were living together in Ramazith's Tower.

Zevlor had fretted about how Rolan's protective siblings would react to their brother dating an older man, but Cal and Lia welcomed him with open arms (after giving him a shovel talk). "He's had a crush on you since he hit puberty." Lia had told the old Hellrider, much to Rolan's chagrin.

Zevlor was elated to find that he got on well with the mage's siblings. Cal was delighted to have another level-headed person to diffuse Lia and Rolan's constant bickering. While Lia was eager to train with the old Hellrider. She had even privately thanked Zevlor for being a calming influence on her bristly brother.

"Rolan isn't as pissy now that the stick that was shoved up his ass has been replaced with your great sword."

(Zevlor couldn't look her in the eyes for 2 tendays.)

The commander had also befriended the local population of stray cats. Zevlor was fairly certain that most of them only saw him as a meal ticket, but there were a few who seemed to genuinely enjoy his company.

Life was good and Zevlor was content, most of the time. But sometimes he'd catch a glimpse of Rolan out of the corner of his eye, or he'd see the younger tiefling approaching with the evening sun brightly blazing behind him, and for a split second he'd swear that he'd seen Kanon.

The two young men were very different people, in both their looks and their personalities— but both of them sported shoulder length hair, and their horn structures were almost identical; making them look just similar enough that, in the right light, Zevlor would see brief glimpses of Kanon when he looked at Rolan.

These bittersweet moments made Zevlor's heart ache. Guilt and anxiety made his stomach churn. Zevlor was worried that he was somehow cheating on Rolan in his wistful reminiscing on his prior swain. He worried that he was trying to replace Kanon with Rolan. He worried that his previous feelings for Kanon were preventing him from fully loving Rolan in the way that the man deserved to be loved— wholly and without question.

Compounding his guilt, Zevlor hadn't told Rolan about Kanon— but there wasn't really anything to tell. He hadn't been in a romantic relationship Kanon. In truth they were nothing more than friendly acquaintances... But there was an undeniable mutual attraction between them, and they'd been getting closer. Their relationship had just begun to blossom into something more when Kanon was killed.

Unfathomable remorse filled the old Hellrider. Kanon should have never been on the ramparts with him, but he was because he and Zevlor were flirting. Gods damn it, the man didn't even have any armor on! How could Zevlor have allowed himself to be so negligent in his duties!? If Zevlor was even half the paladin that he thought he was in Elturel, then Kanon wouldn't have died on that wall.

Despite his best efforts, Zevlor often found himself ruminating over his actions on that fateful day.

As soon as Zevlor had spotted the goblins nearing the Grove he yelled out an order to open the gate— he had directed the order to Akra, who had armor on, but Kanon was closer to the windlass— and so he took it upon himself to try to save Aradin's sorry backside from certain demise.

Zevlor saw the goblins nocking their arrows, he should've realized that a man who was a tailor by trade wouldn't have the reaction time of a trained soldier. But instead of diving on top of Kanon to shield him from the incoming volley of arrows, Zevlor had crouched down and covered his own hide because he (incorrectly) assumed that Kanon would also duck for cover.

Helm's unsleeping eyes, he remembered Kanon's death in perfect, agonizing, detail. The horrid sound the young man had made when the first arrow struck him. The sickening squelch as it effortlessly pierced his unarmored flesh.

Kanon may have been able to survive the initial arrow, had the second arrow not struck true by slotting between his ribs and piercing his heart.

The anguished wail that Kanon's sister, Akra, emitted upon seeing her brother's demise haunted Zevlor in his dreams.

Zevlor's night terrors had been intensifying as of late. His nightmares had started to combine the horrors he experienced in Avernus with how he had failed his kinsfolk in the Shadowlands.

In his dreams the refugee tieflings were being slaughtered by demons while he dispassionately stood by, watching as their souls were dammed to perdition in the hells.

The felled tieflings surrounded him, and the only thing louder than their wails of pain and terror were their loathsome screeches of blame and anger. They demanded to know why he had let them die when he had promised to protect them. They castigated him for his cowardice. They lambasted him for his audacity in thinking that he deserved happiness. He didn't.

Other nightmares solely featured Kanon. His bloated and decaying corpse loomed over Zevlor as blood poured from his mouth while he stared accusingly at him with his dead, hate filled eyes. Kanon didn't need to say anything for Zevlor to know that he was angry with him for idlily standing by as his sister was murdered, to know that the young man (correctly) blamed him for their deaths.

And then a familiar sneer would twist Kanon's reddening face until it morphed into Rolan's unmarred visage.

"How long until you cause my death?" Rolan pointedly asked Zevlor as his face began to decay, sloughing off in grotesque chunks as 10,000 tormented voices emanated all at once from Rolan's rotting mouth when he accusingly screamed at Zevlor. "ł'₥ ₲Øł₦₲ ₮Ø ĐłɆ ฿Ɇ₵₳Ʉ₴Ɇ Ø₣ ɎØɄ!"

"NO!" Zevlor yelled as he shot up from bed. He couldn't breath, he couldn't see anything other than the static that filled his vision. His ears were ringing so loudly that he couldn't hear anything else.

He was dead. He was dead and he was dammed to relive his failures over and over again for the rest of eternity. He had never actually escaped the hells. Tav hadn't rescued him from the mind flayer pod at Moonrise Towers. He was dead. He was-

A gentle wave of calm washed over the old Hellrider. He could suddenly breath again as the ringing in his ears quieted and the world around him came into focus. Rolan was in front of him, saying soothing words to him.

"He looks worried." Zevlor distantly thought.

"Just focus on my voice Zevlor. Good. We're going to breath together now, follow my lead." Rolan instructed him.

"Breath in." Rolan inhaled as Zevlor copied him. "And breath out."

They repeated the breathing exercise several times until Zevlor had fully returned to his body.

The former commander was drenched in sweat, his skin was clammy and cold. Zevlor's whole body was shaking from the aftershocks of his night terror.

It wasn't until Rolan carefully wiped the tears from his face that Zevlor realized he was silently crying.

A sudden, wretched sob erupted from the very depths of Zevlor's soul. Years of repressed emotions spilled forth from, unfettered by shame or pride.

Rolan held him tight. It felt as though his love was the only thing holding Zevlor together as he was soothingly rocked in the mages arms.

Zevlor must have fallen asleep— as an indeterminate amount of time later he was gently roused from his slumber by Rolan, who handed him some water and softly ordered the old soldier "Drink."

Zevlor nodded in both acquiescence and a gesture of gratitude as he silently accepted the cool glass of water from the other man. He hadn't realized how parched he was until he started drinking. It took more restraint than he'd like to admit to swallow the refreshing liquid at a moderate pace instead of desperately chugging it.

When Zevlor was done drinking he handed the glass back to Rolan, who put it on the nightstand.

"You didn't put a coaster under it." He told Rolan.

"What?" Rolan asked.

"The glass," Zevlor said as he pointed to the offending object "you didn't put it on a coaster, it'll leave a mark if you leave it like that."

Rolan's face skewed in... confusion? Incredulity? Bewilderment?

"I know that you don't like water rings on the furniture, that's why I pointed it out." Zevlor lamely added, fearing he had offended his romantic partner.

"Zevlor, dear," Rolan said slowly, as though he was speaking to Minsc someone whose mental faculties were chronically understaffed. "I don't give a cranium-rat's ass about potential condensation rings right now, I am worried about you." Rolan replied in baffled, albeit fond, exasperation.

"You are?" Zevlor asked.

"Yes." Rolan answered while looking at Zevlor as though he'd grown another horn. "I woke to you thrashing around in your sleep from terrible night terrors, I tried to wake you but I was unable rouse you. Then you suddenly bolted upright while screaming in a terror-stricken, anguished voice."

Rolan took a deep, steadying breath before he continued.

"You were nonsensical, saying that you were dead and being tormented in the hells or that you were still trapped in a mind flayer pod. Your eyes were open but they weren't seeing." Rolan shakily told him.

"Oh." Was all Zevlor could think to respond.

"I couldn't get though to you, so I used Calm Emotions on you in the hopes that it would free you from wherever your mind had you trapped. I'm sorry I used my magic to to control your emotions, but I didn't know how else to help you." Rolan said.

It was Zevlor's turn to look at Rolan as though he had grown another horn.

"Why are you apologizing?" Zevlor asked, but continued to talk before Rolan could reply.

"You pulled me out of a very unpleasant place. You shouldn't be apologizing, I should be thanking you." He said as he gently thumbed Rolan's bottom lip, stopping him from worrying it between his teeth.

"I..." Rolan started, uncharacteristically hesitant. "I used a spell to control you, to control your emotions, without your consent." He said.

"I was hardly in a place where I could consent Rolan." Zevlor dismissively replied, then, upon seeing guilt fill Rolan's eyes, quickly added "But I am glad that you did! Your spell helped me immensely!"

When Rolan responded it was with carefully chosen words, though whether they were purely for Zevlor's benefit, or if they were a byproduct of Rolan working though his own emotions, was hard to say.

"You've told me some of what happened in the Shadowlands. I was... concerned that my actions may have been similar to, or reminded you of... the time when you were enthralled by the elder brain."

Zevlor blinked in surprise, and even as the familiar feelings of guilt and remorse bubbled up from the pit of his stomach, the warmth that filled him from the younger man's tender concern caused Zevlor to softly smile.

"I promise you, the circumstances here are very different from... that instance." Zevlor said, causing a small grimace to flash across both of their faces.

"I don't feel as though you violated my autonomy." Zevlor resolutely told Rolan, as he leaned forward and placed a tender kiss between his pinched brows.

Rolan sighed with palpable relief, his face smoothing.

"Do you want to talk about your night terrors?" Rolan asked.

Zevlor sighed as he responded, "Not particularly, but I probably should."

Rolan kissed the old Hellrider's forehead and then told him "Take all the time you need love." as he intertwined his and Zevlor's tails together.

After a few minutes of gathering his thoughts, and his courage, Zevlor began to tell Rolan about his nightmares. The younger man listened attentively, holding Zevlor's hand all the while.

"Before I continue relaying the contents of my nightmare, there is something you should know. Someone that I haven't told you about yet." Zevlor cautiously said.

After Rolan nodded in acknowledgment, Zevlor began to tell him of his and Kanon's not-quite-relationship.

"You remember Kanon, yes?" Zevlor asked, continuing after Rolan nodded, "Well he and I... We... We weren't together, but..."

Zevlor trailed off, his courage leaving him as his self doubt began to overwhelm him.

"Zevlor, are you trying to tell me about how you and Kanon danced around each other as you both obliviously, and obviously, pined for one another?" Rolan asked with a bit of amusement slipping into his voice despite his efforts to rein it in.

Zevlor's eyes were as wide saucers when he asked "You already knew!?"

Rolan let his smile slip as he answered "Zevlor, everyone knew. It was painfully obvious that you two had alchemy with each other. I'm fairly certain that Mol's gang were running a betting ring on when you two would finally start dating."

Embarrassed, Zevlor indignantly asked "And no one said anything!?"

"No." Rolan shrugged. "There wasn't much entertainment to be had on the road. Of course I didn't partake in such jejune activities. But I knew of your feelings for him, and his for you. I think everyone except you two knew."

Zevlor stared at Rolan as though he had just told him that the sky was lime green.

"You knew that I had romantic feelings for Kanon?" He asked, needing to clarify what he had just heard.

Rolan looked at Zevlor with a mixture of sympathy and tenderness. "Yes Zevlor, I knew."

"It... it doesn't bother you?" Zevlor hesitantly asked.

"No, Zevlor. It doesn't bother me." Rolan reassured him.

The floodgates opened once more as Zevlor began sobbing.

He told Rolan of what had happened that day. How he blamed himself for Kanon's death. How he was worried that he was using Rolan as a replacement. How he sometimes saw Kanon when he looked at Rolan.

Zevlor came clean about everything. His fears, his doubts, his regrets. How he didn't think he deserved to be happy when he was the reason so many had died.

And Rolan listened without judgement. At times he looked shocked, or angry at the circumstances life had put Zevlor in, or sadness for what he had lost— but he was never resentful.

Eventually Zevlor had confessed everything he'd been hiding from Rolan to him. Despite feeling exhausted Zevlor felt lighter than he had in a very long time.

But of course the reprieve from his self-flagellation only lasted for a few moments.

As Zevlor's senses returned to him so too did his shame. He was a commander of the Hellriders, damnit. How could he be so weak?

HIs self-loathing was unceremoniously interrupted when Rolan none-too-gently flicked his forehead.

"Stop that." Rolan firmly told him.

Zevlor did not pout as he snuggled closer, embarrassed at having been caught denigrating himself— causing the mage to quietly chuckle and kiss Zevlor's forehead in apology.

"I've covered you with my snot, sweat, and tears." Zevlor pointed out.

Rolan's voice betrayed his disgust, "I am aware."

Zevlor snickered at Rolan's disgruntled tone.

By the next morning all traces of Zevlor's bodily secretions had been magicked away.

Zevlor woke to the smell of freshly brewed coffee.

"About time you've woken up, you slugabed." Rolan lovingly teased.

Zevlor hid his smile underneath the blanket as he replied "You young people these days, so disrespectful to your elders."

Rolan made a noncommittal noise as he drank his coffee.

"Mmm, I am very disrespectful— so disrespectful that I graciously brought you a fresh cup of coffee to lazily enjoy in bed." he said good naturedly.

The promise of caffeine inspired Zevlor to fully wake up.

Rolan tittered as he handed the now awake Hellrider his coffee.

Their eyes locked as Zevlor accepted the warm cup from him. The adoring look Rolan gave him soothed his soul in a way that words could not.

He knew that they were okay. They'd probably discuss what he'd revealed the night before, but they would be okay.

They were more than okay. They were good.

Life was good, and it was going to get even better.

[purgatory-is-life]

Mechtober Day 14/prompt 14-Alternate Universe

if i need to single handedly populate this fandom with urban fantasy aus by the gods i will

@mechtober-2024

An Average Day 'Round Here, Really - Reality666Rift999 - The Mechanisms (Band) [Archive of Our Own]

tw, my poor attempts at using british vernacular with my very limited knowledge of it as an american, cursing, arguing (mostly jokingly), mentioned alcohol, implied alcohol consumption, blood, blood consumption, non-con blood drinking, minor unnamed character death, probably more, feel free to ask me to tag something!!

Brian woke with a groan, and something heavy on top of him. He cracked an eye open, glaring at whichever one of his flatmates it was that decided to wake him up this time. It turned out to be Raphaella. He glanced at his clock–eleven AM. Too early, by his standards, but he did have some classes that day, so he would’ve had to get up at some point.

“What do you want, Raph?” He asked, voice thick with sleep.

“Do you have the chem notes from Friday?” she asked, staring up at him with wide, unblinking eyes. His still freshly-woken up and foggy mind thought she looked a lot like a bird, like one of those falcon’s Tim’s constantly sending pictures of.

Brian stared back at her. “Raph. You couldn’t wait for two hours for me to wake up with my alarm to ask that?”

“My chem lab is at noon!” She defended. “And you almost never get up before noon.” She poked him on the nose. “It was much easier to wake you up, insomniac. You need to work on your sleep schedule.”

“I at least get a consistent amount of sleep,” Brian grumbled, “how much have you slept recently?”

Raphaella quickly turned her head, waving her hand dismissively. “Not important! My chem lab is in an hour, do you have the notes or not?”

Brian curled up further under his sheets, humming quietly and closing his eyes again as if he’d be able to get any more sleep. “In the yellow notebook, on my desk. Hundredth page in.”

“Ah! Thank you, dearest,” Raph kissed his forehead and jumped off him, scurrying towards his desk.

“Mhm…”

Raphaella grabbed the notebook, and left the room. There was a brief moment where Brian could almost fool himself that he was asleep, before Raph came back into his room. “Do you… want me to turn your light on to help you wake up or…?”

Brian groaned, and pulled one of his pillows over his head. “Please let me at least try to get my last two hours of rest!”

“Okay, sorry!” And then Raphaella actually left him alone to get some more sleep.

—-- By the time his alarm went off, Brian had been playing a random game on his phone for at least an hour and a half. At some point in his attempts to get back to sleep, he’d given up and began playing on his phone. However, with his phone vibrating aggressively and playing one of Toy’s newer songs loudly, he couldn’t get away with hiding any longer, and he forced himself to get up.

He sat up, stretching his arms, back popping as he did so. He swung his legs, testing his knees. Finding they didn’t ache as much as usual, he decided to venture out into the living area of the apartment without his cane. As he entered the living room, it was just as he expected–chaotic. And loud, he was honestly surprised he hadn’t noticed before, while he was still hiding in his room.

Everyone in their friend group was there– while Brian, Marius and Raph were technically the only ones on the lease, it was admittedly more unusual if there weren’t at least six people in their flat at once. Typically, all nine of them were in at once, but Raph had a few labs on Monday’s and Nastya had one of her computer science classes in the afternoon on Mondays, so it was only the seven of them on Monday afternoons. Eight, if Marius convinced Lyfrassir to come around, or they’d stayed the night. Nine, at most and if they were lucky, and Bertie was visiting from his campus.

Currently, Jonny was laying on top of Ashes while rambling about something from his creative writing class, maybe something about his teacher who he hated. Apparently, he was kind of a jackass, but it was Jonny, and Jonny was prone to exaggeration, so he could’ve been fine. Toy and Marius were playing chopsticks while debating something in German, Ivy was reading a book while sitting upside down on the couch, and Gunpowder was cooking something.

Ashes was the first to notice his emergence, as he made a beeline for the coffee pot. “Morning, doll,” Ashes called, smirking. Brian rolled his eyes at them.

“It’s afternoon,” Brian pointed out, “that’s the point. I don’t like getting up early.”

“It’s still fun to bother you about,” Ashes said. He could hear the grin in their voice. Brian rolled his eyes again, and set about making his coffee, being careful to move around Tim while he-they?-continued cooking.

“Pronouns?” Brian asked, starting his cup.

“She/he, thanks,” Gunpowder smiled, and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “So you’re finally awake?”

“Oh, you can’t talk, Timopher,” Brian flicked the other on the head. She groaned at that.

“Not you too! I’m going to kill Jonny for getting you all started on that!”

Brian grinned, but didn’t say anything more. Tim pouted, but returned to his cookery. The smell of bacon hit Brian’s nose as something started sizzling on a pan, and his stomach growled at him. Gunpowder noticed, and tilted his head at him as Brian grabbed a mug from one of the cabinets. “D’you want some of this? I can make more, it’s just eggs, some toast, and bacon.”

Brian shook his head as he poured his cup of coffee. “No, thank you. I was planning on getting something on my way to my anatomy class.”

Tim raised an eyebrow, glancing at him over his glasses. “Your anatomy class is at three. It’s almost one-fifteen. You have time to eat a proper breakfast.” Brian waved her off as he took a sip of his coffee. Tim wrinkled his nose. “Brian. One-coffee isn’t breakfast. Two-black coffee? Seriously?”

Brian shrugged. “It’s better than coffee ice cream for breakfast.”

Gunpowder rolled her eyes, pinching her nose. “It’s not- I’m not doing this. And besides, that was one time during finals last year. I don’t think any of us had a consistent amount of sleep or a consistent amount of food in our stomachs.”

“The woes of being a college student,” Brian said, taking another sip of his coffee and walking towards the adjoining living room.

“Yea- wait I’m not done lecturing you–!”

But Brian was already sitting down next to Ivy and ignoring her complaints. “Good afternoon, Brian. Did you sleep well?”

“Would’ve slept better if Raph didn’t wake me up, but mostly, yeah.”

Ivy nodded. “I apologize, I was the one to tell Raphaella to ask you for the notes. I forgot how much you dislike being woken up early.” She turned another page in her book.

“It’s fine, Ivy, I’ll just try and go to bed a bit early tonight.”

“I believe it’s a misnomer to say you sleep at night–you go to bed most often at four AM.”

Brian–couldn’t deny her there. “Is it comfortable, sitting upside down like that?” he asked instead.

“It is plenty comfortable for me. Thank you for your concern, though.”

Brian nodded, and took another sip of his coffee. The still-scalding liquid burned in his throat, and behind it a thirst he’d been doing his best to ignore burned as well. He’d have to do something about it soon–the… thirst? Hunger? He still wasn’t sure what to call it, nearly two years later–either way, he’d have to do something about it soon, it was getting hard to ignore.

Gunpowder came into the room with a plate of food, flopping onto the couch next to (almost on top of) Ashes. “Oh, by the way,” she started, “I’m going to be visiting Bertie over the next few days, I’m heading out a bit later, so I might not be able to make it to band practice on Thursday.”

“Have fun,” Jonny said, reaching over to Tim’s paper plate and taking some of the bacon for himself.

Tim swatted at Jonny’s hand, sticking his tongue out at the other. Jonny stuck his tongue out at her. Brian smiled at his friends' shenanigans–not quite dumbassery, but a very similar brand of chaos. Though, dumbassery usually ended with someone injured and an argument about whether or not a trip to A&E was necessary. And a kidnapping to take someone to A&E, but that was neither here nor there.

“Tell Bertie we say hello,” Ivy said, as Brian glanced over at Marius and Toy, who were still completely absorbed in their game and debate.

“Oh, I’m sure he’ll know,” Tim shrugged as Jonny–successfully, this time–stole some of Gunpowder’s bacon.

Tim didn’t notice at first, but when she did, she immediately turned on Jonny. The other grinned, which only annoyed Tim more. Brian decided that was a good moment to down the rest of his scalding coffee, and get up to get dressed. “Do you think I can get away with not wearing my binder today without my chem lab supervisor misgendering me?”

Ivy glanced up from her book and raised an eyebrow at him.

“…Yeah, fair enough…” Brian sighed. He didn’t really care one way or the other about wearing his binder or how people perceived him, but sometimes it got tiring getting misgendered by people around him. Oh well, he wouldn’t have to wear it all day. Brian glanced back at Gunpowder and Jonny, and saw that Tim had completely ditched his breakfast, and was now wrestling with Jonny while Ashes took her bacon. All in all, a normal day, really.

—--

Brian hated the sun. Without a doubt, he hated the sun. It was hot, it was bright and hurt his eyes, and it made him tired. Really, besides it providing light for the rose bushes he’d been trying to grow out of his flat’s window box, he had no reason to like the sun. Except for the fact that most of his friends were awake when the sun was up, but most of his friends had absolutely god awful sleep schedules, and Brian was half certain Raphaella was more willing to do hard drugs than sleep when she could be ‘science-ing’. So, really, other than the roses needing sunlight to grow, he really didn’t have any reason to appreciate the sun. So, naturally, with such a hatred of the sun, he did his best to avoid it, but sometimes he was forced to face the burning ball of hydrogen gas and plasma.

The latest anatomy class he could get was at three, and thus he was forced to face the sun at least twice a week on Mondays and Thursdays (for his bio-chem class, which was at two-thirty) if he wanted to actually gain that pre-med he’d been working towards since Secondary. At the very least, with the weather changing and slipping more into the icy chill of fall and winter, the amount of time he’d have to face the sun was lessened. Which he was grateful for, even though the sun had long since begun to set as he made his way home from his last monday class (he also had a chem lab on mondays, but it was at a different time than Raphaella’s) at six in the evening.

When he returned to the flat, placing his bag by the door and tossing his jacket on the coat wrack. With a quick glance around the flat’s living room, he noted that everyone was there with the exception of Gunpowder. She must’ve already headed off to Bertie’s campus. Lyf was there, sitting on the couch braiding Raphaella’s hair while she braided Marius’s hair, and Marius scribbled something down while Nastya played her viola. Jonny and Ashes were cooking something, though he could hear Jonny saying he was gonna head out once the food was done. Toy was laying on the floor on top of Ivy, both of whom were reading different books. Toy was reading a book that appeared to be about different species of frogs, and Ivy seemed to be reading something about mice. Which did nothing to narrow down what she was reading.

Lyf glanced up from their work, briefly, and nodded at him as he entered. Brian smiled and waved, continuing his walk to his room.

“Brian!” Ashes called, peaking leaning on the counter that separated the living room from the kitchen. “You gonna want any o’ this, doll?”

“Oh!” Brian hummed. “No, probably shouldn’t–I told Galahad I’d go out for drinks with him and some of his friends.”

“The Pendragons, again?” Ashes raised an eyebrow as Jonny pouted, turning to face him as well.

“Yeah,” Brian nodded. He glanced at Jonny and smirked at him. “What’s with the pout, dear?”

Jonny scoffed, face turning a bright red. “Fuck off! I put in all this work and you ain’t even gonna try any?”

Brian’s smirk softened. “Yeah, sorry, I didn’t realize you were making dinner for us tonight. Save some for me?”

Jonny huffed and nodded, turning back to his cooking and waving him off. Brian glanced into the pot, trying to decipher what it was that he and Ashes were cooking. It looked like some kind of stew. With that mystery kind-of solved, Brian headed to his bedroom to change into something a bit more bar-appropriate.

He did have somewhere to be, afterall. While the night was young.

—--

Brian, along with the sun, hated bars. Their smell was rancid, there were always too many people and they were always too close, Brian hated bars. More specifically, he hated getting hit on at bars. And yet, here he was, in a back alley behind a bar making out with some random drunk person. They were-probably a man? And definitely older than him, but Brian wasn’t picky with his snacks.

Though, in times like these, he found himself often missing his friends–“the Crew”, as Jonny sometimes called them.

Their relationship was… Well, it was something. He could probably write a philosophy thesis on it, actually. And it wouldn’t be fair to say they weren’t open, by no means were whatever-they-were a closed relationship. But maybe it wasn’t fair to say whatever they had was open, either? Since it wasn’t exactly defined in most areas.

Tim and Bertie were something, though Gunpowder refused to elaborate further. Tim and Jonny were dating(?)–that’s literally how they described it, too–Jonny was willing to have sex with most of them except Nastya (for obvious reasons. Ew), whereas Marius was usually the opposite, he’d take everyone out on dates and plan elaborate dinners or lunches or breakfasts or brunches, whatever meal it was, but sex was a very inconsistent desire for him. Brian was generally the same way, though a bit less… dramatic, about it. His planned dates were always much less extravagant than Marius’s. Nastya was exclusive with her long-distance girlfriend, but she and Brian kissed sometimes, and he knows that she and Ivy also do the same on occasion. Toy was odd, but it was always sweet and it was involved in the relationship chaos in all the ways that mattered, it deserved a place in this train of thought. It didn’t exactly feel romantic or sexual attraction, but had expressed that it loved the Crew all deeply and truly, and always tried to help and show its care in whatever ways it deemed to be effective.

Ashes had something with everyone, but it looked different depending who of the Crew they were with, Raph and Ivy were dating, Marius was starting to date Lyffrassir, which actually seemed to be going pretty well compared to previous romantic exploits outside the Crew of his, Marius, Ivy, and Raphaella were dating, and all of them were just… generally pretty touchy feel-y? It was always weird to see one of the Crew and not see at least two others nearby. And dating or being fuckbuddies with one of them generally meant having to share with the rest at least, and if not, being roped up a lot more tightly in their web of weirdness (as Lyf had once called it). Lyf was still new, but they seemed to get along with everyone pretty well, and had even made out with Brian on a few occasions, and he’d definitely seen them leaving Raph’s room with tousled clothes and hair in the early morning while he was still awake, shortly followed by Ivy or Raph–or both.

All that to say, there were about nine other people that Brian could be kissing that he’d much rather be snogging behind a dingy bar. The probably-a-man reached up and curled a lock of his hair around their finger. “You’ve got such pretty hair, doll,” they said, breaking the kiss.

The stench of whiskey was heavy on their breath–it was amazing they were coherent at all–and Brian was hit with two twin pangs of longing, one with an equal measure of anger. Only Ashes got to call him doll. Brian would have to try and finish this quickly, even if he didn’t really want to hurt them. They hadn’t done anything yet. Except– well, except agreeing to makeout with a college student in a back alley. Brian had to force himself to not wrinkle his nose at the whiskey smell that came with each of their heavy breaths–that was a scent that was only kinda sexy on Jonny–there was no way he wasn’t going to be at least a little tipsy after everything was over. Which–might sell his excuse about going out for drinks with Galahad and the Pendragon Polycule better than coming home sober.

“Thanks,” Brian replied quietly, “a friend of mine does it for me.” Ivy had been dying her hair forever, and was therefore the most apt member of the Crew to aid in taking care of everyone’s hair when they were too Tired to do it themselves for one reason or another. It was always relaxing, her hands running through his hair as she washed it for him in either the bathroom sink or the flat’s tub–he had a lot of hair and was very inconsistent about cutting it to various lengths. It seemed to make his joints stop hurting and his head less achey. She’d probably say something about endorphins and serotonin and relaxing–or maybe Raph would, no telling who.

“Oh?” they responded, clearly uninterested.

“Mhm,” Brian nodded. “Hey, did you know that the scales of most sharks, placoid scales, are made up of largely the same enamel as what makes up teeth? So some people call their scales teeth scales.” Brian knew approximately four people who called them that, and one of them was studying marine biology. And the other three were Raph, Galahad, and Jonny. Actually, he’d heard Marius call them teeth scales before– or, no, he’d called them teeth skin. That still counted, he supposed. So, five people, on a technicality, probably six soon once Toy picks it up. He was surprised it hadn’t already, actually. “I’ve even heard some people call them teeth skin. Although they don’t eat with their skin, like some animals.”

Whatever direction the probably-a-man expected this conversation to go, this was certainly not it. They stared at him in confusion, pausing in twirling his hair in their hand. Well, that was what he was wanting, confusion and surprise. He was running out of odd animal facts though–Toy hadn’t given him any new bug facts in a while and it was more focused on trying to find frog facts that none of the Crew had heard before (which was harder than it seemed) and Lyffrassir was just generally hesitant to start infodumping about marine biology around anyone other than Marius it seemed. All this to say, Brian was thinking about getting a better method to throw people off their game.

He was overthinking this innocuous piece of information, he knew. Stalling. The confusion wouldn’t last long, the person’s inebriated mind probably already forgetting why they’re confused in the first place. He was hesitating, but god or gods above, his stomach ached with want. And yet, he was hesitating. He should really be used to this by now–he’s been doing this for two years at this point. Just– stop thinking, and do it.

“Well–” the person started, but didn’t get to finish as Brian lunged for their throat, sharp fangs easily piercing the delicate, human flesh. Their words, and their scream, died in their throat as he did so. They thrashed and tried to push him away, but being the inhuman thing he was, he was stronger and was able to hold them in place until they stopped trying to fight, as he drained their lifeblood through the gaping, gushing wound in their neck.

He always hated it, hated feeding off of and killing people. But if he didn’t, he could starve, and starving looked much worse than killing one or two people a month–he’d tested it. At least twice.

It was several minutes until the person fully went limp, but there was still blood and Brian was still hungry, even if he knew he was overindulging and going to feel sick and even more achey than usual later. Eventually though, as the now-corpse was starting to run dry (some part of himself, the part that was a starving, ravenous thing, wanted to drain as much as he could, and knew that there was surely more blood in the body that was just harder to get too–he ignored that part vehemently), Brian let the corpse drop and stepped back, staring blankly at the corpse.

He did this every time, taking a second to stare at the mess he left. Take a minute to revel in how awful he was.

A voice snapped him out of his post-feeding haze. “Oh~ I know that smell~!” Brian’s head snapped up to the end of the alley, eyes widening and body freezing in place. “What do we have– Brian?”

Jonny stared at him with glowing, red eyes, confusion written on his face.

Shit.

[succstosucculent]

The Edwin and Charles Live til Old Age AU is Taking Off

And I just thought, even though I’m too busy to properly develop this AU right now, I can share a few headcanons as to how I think their lives would’ve gone

TW/CW: referenced child abuse, referenced domestic abuse, offscreen minor character deaths, divorce, WW1, probably WW2, period typical homophobia (briefly alluded to)

Let’s start out with Charles Rowland. I imagine he left home the moment he legally could, just sort of coasted from job to job until he ended up where he currently is, as a beloved radio host blasting popular throwback songs across the airwaves. Charles calls to check in with his mum, doesn’t bother visiting his dad’s grave (Paul Rowland dies in this AU in 1991 because he never gets better and continues treating his wife like shit), and he gets to see his daughters every weekend until they’re old enough to decide not to see him themselves.

Charles tried his best not to become the father and husband his dad was, but in turn he ended up bringing his own dysfunctional behaviors into his marriage, and he and his wife probably divorced. His daughters would call his parenting style smothering and overbearing, although never to his face, because then he’ll cry about how much he wanted to be a good dad for them and they’ll feel bad. They mostly want Charles to go to therapy, but that would require admitting something is wrong first, which, you know, good luck with Charles admitting something is wrong until it’s too late.

The closest thing Charles gets to therapy is his bimonthly visits to Mr. Payne’s grave. He’ll buy them two pork pies from the petrol station on the way, put one on the grass as he eats the other one and talk about his day, his work, his family, etc.

Which I guess leaves Edwin Payne’s life to fill in. According to a cursory Google search, Edwin was born in the winter sometime around the turn of the year from 1899 to 1900, which gives him just enough time to experience the horrors of WW1 before the armistice was signed on Nov 11 1918. I don’t know what horrors he could’ve experienced exactly, it’s almost worse to leave it up to the imagination, tbh, but Edwin comes back to England a changed man.

The middle years are kind of a big question mark to me, as I haven’t exactly worked those out yet. Would Edwin have gone back to serve his country in WW2? He’d be in his forties at that point, so while it’s not a no, per se, he might also leave it to the younger men to handle while he helps out the war effort at home. All I got is that eventually, around the late 1950’s to early 1960’s, Edwin opens a bookshop or a magic items supply shop (or a mixture of both?) together with his ‘business partner’ *ahem* Mr. James McNally, an OC. They successfully run the bookstore/magic store together until well into the early ‘80s, until McNally dies of a heart attack in 1985. Edwin then sells the business, retires, and moves into the old folk’s home because at this point he has no surviving family members to look after him, and he never conformed to societal expectation to marry a woman and have kids. So he’s all alone for a good three years until a bright-eyed, energetic volunteer named Charles Rowland stops by with some mates from his school for some community service hours. Eventually, Charles continues visiting Mr. Payne well after his required service hours have been filled 🥹❤️💙

[soundcrusher]

The super secret thing that's definitely Hot Rod x Overlord

Okay, so, it might have taken me three days to finsish this, but it's done now. Here's the "Secret Option that's definitely not Hot Rod x Overlord" that you guys voten on here.

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As a small sumary:

In this little story, Hot Rod never joined a faction after Nyon burned. Instead he became a drifter before becoming a mercenary who works for both factions from time to time.

(Please keep in mind that I'm working with whatever I can gather from TFWiki about the characters and their stories from the IDW contenuity.)

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With that being said, please enjoy a roughly 11 pages long fanfic with a pairing that should (probably) have never happened.

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Nyon burned, and no-one cared.

His people died, and no-one cared.

He was the only one left, and no-one seemed to care about that. They only wanted to claim one of the last known survivors of Nyon as their own. Not because of what he could offer to their cause, but rather as a symbol of how cruel their enemy could be.

It was sickening, because neither side didn’t think about what their claim would mean to Hot Rod. The Autobots saw it as a duty to take in a stranded mech without a home as a sign of good will, while the Decepticons only wanted him as a symbol of what a corrupted government could do to you. And call him selfish, headstrong or stupid, but Hot Rod did not want to become either. He, like every Nyonian buried under the ashes of their home and burned by the flames of their deathly freedom, would never join a faction that failed to help those in need.

The leaders only saw their goal after all. They could have helped, but neither did. No-one came when they called for help, and no-one tried to save them. They were pushed to the end. They fought till the end, and only now are the Autobots and Decepticons coming. Trying to claim the last remains of Nyon as their own.

And Hot Rod wouldn’t stand for that. No matter how much they tried to convince him, the young speedster only looked at them, before turning his back on everything. Walking away in search of a new home and purpose, far away from everything that provided a stark reminder of what he has lost, but Nyon’s downfall always found him.

At first, it was a single Autobot caught up in a trap set by Decepticons. And despite his burning hate for either faction, Hot Rod couldn’t turn his back on someone who was in need. So, he helped the Autobot out. Bringing them to safety, before leaving them alone. He couldn’t risk getting on their radar and getting another ‘Recruitment Speech’. He’s gotten sick of them the first time around. Especially those made by Optimus.

‘Freedom is the right of all sentient beings’, what a load of robo-bullcrap. If it truly was the right of all, why were they fighting and destroying life and freedom across the galaxy. Yes, the Decepticons are also to blame, but still, the Prime should be more self-conscious about his own decisions. And that comes from a known hot head”

Either way, this whole mess he found himself in started with one Autobot, and then it just spiraled. Everywhere he went, everywhere he tried to run to Nyon followed him. And then, when he thought about all he had lost, there was always someone in desperate need of help.

And Hot Rod always ended up helping whoever needed him. Be it Autobot, Decepticon, Neutral, or a poor organic caught up in the middle of Megatron’s and Optimus’ spike measuring contest. He was always there to help out, and despite his late friends' wishes, despite everything they hoped for him, Hot Rod took up arms and learned how to shoot, to fight, take on and dismantle ‘bots and ‘cons bigger than him, stronger than him. And when the factions learned about it, Hot Rod found himself facing them again. Over and over, like an endless song stuck in your head.

“Join us!”

“We could need a mech like you.”

“Why are you throwing away your skills, when you could use them for something greater?”

Those were just a few of the phrases Hot Rod heard while helping out, and he hated them. His skills weren’t supposed to be used by one of the sides. They were supposed to help whoever needed him. Whoever was faced with a situation like his own, like Nyonians, where the only way out was death.

So what if he sometimes helped out Autobots, only to face them on the other side in the next battle? This was war, and he was a drifter turned mercenary, Hot Rod had no obligations to anyone. No matter how many of those he fought with called him a traitor for taking on jobs offered to him. Let them think what they want, Hot Rod knows who he is. The last Nyonian he knows, and one who wouldn’t bow before anyone.

Not before the senate, not before Optimus Prime and not before Megatron, even if he was currently working for the latter one.

At least working for Megatron was easier than the Prime. Yes, he might get the occasional question as to why he isn’t joining his quest, but at least none of those questions were ‘Recruitment Speeches’. Not anymore at least.

But then again, working with the Decepticons also had its down-sides. Especially when it came to the mechs and femmes in the faction. Some were okay, some were annoying, and then there were those who seemed to have it out for him. And with ‘out for him’, Hot Rod meant that they were either trying to pick a fight with, or kill him.

Although, it was mostly the bigger ‘cons asking for a fight, because they never truly believe him that he can take them down. And yet, he always proves them wrong. Right now, he was sitting on the downed Decepticon he just fought while cleaning his rifle. It wasn’t his fault that the big lug got knocked out while fighting him. Also, Hot Rod was quick to notice how others seemed to avoid him whenever he was perching on one of his defeated opponents. So, this quickly became a habit. Not only because it kept others away, but also because it added to his image of a menacing mercenary. And such an image is always good.

But, much to Hot Rod’s disdain, one ‘con seemed to not take the hint. Or at least, he chose to ignore the hostile field the speedster let seep through his cracks, whenever he wanted to make sure others knew not to talk with him. Thus why he internally gagged, as he heard all too familiar footsteps come his way.

Great, as if he didn’t have anything better to do.

“Look what the cyber-cat dragged in…” Muttered Hot Rod quietly to himself, as he looked over at the mech. “Overlord, didn’t expect you to come back so soon. I would offer you a chair, but… yeeaaah. There’s none around.”

Overlord only smirked, as he waved one of his hands in a dismissive way, while the other was placed on his hip. “Oh, that’s okay. I’ve been sitting most of the day either way. That little mission was over in nothing more than a second.”

“Sounds like Megatron didn’t give you the interesting one. Heh, but you’re not the only one who’s been pushed to the side lines.” Hot Rod said and finished cleaning his rifle. Storing the cleaning rag in his subspace, before getting down from his perch and walking away. “But hey, I don’t mind it. Just means work is easier for me and I’ll be gone sooner than later.”

“So, you’re leaving again? Didn’t think you would abandone a fight that easily, Hot Rod.”

The speedster only laughed and shrugged his shoulders. Hiding his annoyance when he suddenly noticed that he had company when walking down the hall towards his temporary hab-suite. “Oh, I’m not abandoning a fight. I’m merely doing my job, while hoping to get an opportunity to finally see the… let’s say ‘fulfillment of my dream’.”

“And what would that entail?”

Overlord sure didn’t take social cues, or he opted to ignore them. Hot Rod was betting on the latter, while praying to Primus that his hab-suit would finally show up. He couldn’t stand the company of others, especially when they were nothing more than murderers who killed just for the sake of killing.

Hypocritic, he knows, but what else can he say? Everyone’s going to become a killer sooner or later when getting involved in this war. Doesn’t mean that Hot Rod had to enjoy it, even if there was a small part deep down that somehow relished in the fact that the mechs who didn’t help his people found their end at his hands. It’s poetic, in a way.

"Many things. Nyon being rebuilt would be a part of it, but… I would say seeing Megatron’s and Optimus’ grayed out form would be the biggest part. I wouldn’t even care who did it, as long as it happens.” That seemed to shut Overlord up for a second, and Hot Rod reveled in the silence. Until the bigger mech decided to speak up again.

“Would you try to kill Megatron on your own?” Asked Overlord, and this time, Hot Rod wasn’t sure what to think of the bigger mech. He didn’t like his tone. It was too flat and lacked his usual dramatic tendencies. Making him feel like prey, and Hot Rod hated that feeling.

“No, I’m not stupid.” Was the speedster's answer, before he let out a sigh. “Everyone knows he’s your kill. And frankly, I wouldn’t take your chance away to fight him.” He said with a laugh. “As I said, seeing his grayed out form is enough for me… Just… may I have one request?”

“And that would be?”

“A front seat when you get your re-match. I want to see the look on his face when he realizes that he can’t win.”

A smirk was all Hot Rod got as an answer, before entering his temporary hab-suit. And as he sat down on his berth, rifle stored away next to it and a knife placed in an easy to grab spot, did Hot Rod think about what exactly he said. Hopefully he didn’t make himself interesting for the big-lipped psycho. He didn’t need the attention of someone who’s known for his obsession over bloodshed and killing. It would only lead to problems. And Hot Rod didn’t need even more problems.

But those fears seemed unfounded, because when he awoke from recharge the next day, Overlord was long gone. Send to a mission which Hot Rod found out was far enough away from him. And so, the Nyonian continued his work for the Decepticons, before going his own way again. Leaving as soon as he got his payment and deciding to keep away from the war for a while.

And a while became a long time, because, as the war dragged on and he had to fight and kill more than before, Hot Rod found himself constantly confronted with the darkest part of his spark. A part that constantly tried to justify his killing by saying it was vengeance for his fallen people, but who was he kidding? War turns everyone into a killer, and Hot Rod was fighting with his urge to just go wild. Thus why he distanced himself from both factions from time to time. He didn’t need a longer list of victims, although he would always keep two spots open. Just in case.

His struggle to keep his darkest part at bay is also why he joined many ships and crews not as a killer but as a security guard. Traveling from place to place, until his latest crew crash landed on a planet he didn’t bother to learn the name of. Although, maybe he should have, because a group of Decepticons herded together the remaining survivors of the crash and him, and led them all back to a prison. An Autobot looking prison that was entirely run by Decepticons.

Great, this was just what Hot Rod needed. A place where he’ll probably rot until the end of his days, or die a lot sooner. Hopefully it’s the last, he’s always hated being trapped in one place. It reminds him too much of Nyon and how many of his people must have died trapped underneath rubble or in a room forced to slowly die.

But alas, fate seemed to make his life a cruel joke, because when his temporary crew was brought before the warden… it was Overlord. And Hot Rod found himself regretting his life choices, because out of all the planets he could have crash landed on, it was the one where Overlord was running a prison.

He really needs to have a long talk with Primus after this, because why must he torture him with having to face the one mech he didn’t want to see? But hey, at least Overlord didn’t recognize him when they were in front of him, and didn’t say anything when they were all herded towards the nearest cells. And as long as he kept his head and spoilers low, he should be able to-

“Hot Rod?”

Primus damn it! His luck was never here to stay, was it? So, with a deep inhale, Hot Rod put on his most charismatic smirk, before turning around. “Howdy Overlord, long time no see.” He said, while awkwardly finger gunning at the bigger mech. “Eeeeeeither way, I’m pretty sure your guys are supposed to bring me to a nice cell. Sooooo, see ya later?”

“No. I would rather see you now. We have… a lot of catching up to do.” And with that, Hot Rod was whisked away by Overlord. Separated from his temporary crew and led to another part of the prison. One that looked more like mechs were supposed to live there, rather than being imprisoned. Which means, there’s only one way how this is going to end, and Hot Rod wasn’t ready for that. Not even when Overlord simply pushed him into the biggest hab-suit he’s ever seen and locked the door behind them.

Great, just great, he was locked in with a mech known for killing anyone he pleases. And who was currently lounging on something that looked like a mix between a berth and a plush chair from earth. Weird choice of furniture, but who was he to judge. Hot Rod didn’t have the greatest taste either.

Still, with Overlord ‘seated’, the speedster remained standing. His hands fidgeted by his side, as his eyes roamed around the room. Mapping out possible escape routes, while he was already preparing a strategy in case this encounter would end in a fight.

“Well, well, well, look what the cyber-cat dragged in.” Said Overlord with the most self-serving smirk Hot Rod has ever seen. “I didn’t expect to see you this soon, Hot Rod. And this time, there are even enough chairs that I can offer you one to sit on.”

“Very clever, Lordy. Using my own words against me. Didn’t think you would remember them.” Was the answer Hot Rod gave, while walking around the room. Noting some energon stains littering either the floor, walls or ceiling. “And it looks like you’ve been… busy in here…”

“Of course. A gladiatorial pit doesn’t run itself after all and, well, you could say my sense of decor is quite… explicit.” Said Overlord, as he watched Hot Rod walk around. Observing how the speedster’s hands would sometimes form into fists, while his spoiler shook from something the Phase Sixer couldn’t quite place yet. “But it seems I’m not the only one who’s been busy, ‘Flaming Death’.” A hitch of the spoilers. One that made Overlord smirk even wider. “It seems you’ve made yourself quite the name, Roddy.”

“… A name I hate, but it seems to stick with me.” Was all Hot Rod said, before sitting down on a chair. “Either way, why am I not in a cell? Because I doubt this is only a way for us to ‘reconnect’, Overlord. If you want news about the Decepticons, I don’t know much. Haven’t worked with them for quite some time.”

“Oh no, that’s not why I invited you in here.” He didn’t like Overlord’s smile. Nor did he like how the Phase Sixer was sitting up, arms propped up on his legs and hands clasped together as he leaned forward. A smirk similar to that of the cheshire cat stretching across his face. “I was hoping you would stay here for a while. You see, the fights have become somewhat repetitive. No-one seems to know how to properly entertain my me-”

“You.” Hot Rod cut in. Barely containing his shit eating grin, as he saw one of Overlord’s eyes twitch in annoyance. “No-one seems to know how to properly entertain you. And let me guess, you’re hoping that I could breathe some fresh air into the fights by participating myself. Sorry Lordy, but I’m trying not to fight or kill anyone currently.”

Overlord looked deeply into Hot Rod’s eyes. Trying to find something that would or could indicate that the speedster was lying, but it seemed that his ‘friend’ was speaking the truth. But alas, he could see something simmering underneath the surface of the truth. And that was enough for him. “What a pity then. I know how much you hate recruitment speeches, but my proposition surely will interest you.”

“And what would that be?” Hot Rod didn’t like this. Hearing a speech from Optimus or Megatron was one thing, but Overlord played in a different kind of league. And he was never sure if Overlord didn’t know about the darker part of his spark. The one that liked killing.

“No need to be so tense, Roddy. It’s quite simple. Stay for a few days and join me during some of the matches. You don’t have to fight, only watch. And if you happen to want to join, I won’t stop you.”

This sounded like a good deal. One Hot Rod could do, but he was still unsure. There surely was a catch. “And what if I don’t want to?”

“There’s always a nice cell waiting for you and then you will have no choice but to fight.”

Damn it, that was a good point. And considering how he was currently at Overlord’s mercy, if that mech even knew the meaning of that word, his hands were tied. So, Hot Rod heaved a deep sigh, before nodding. “Alright, but I’ll be allowed to decide when I go. You know why I don’t like sticking around one place for a long time. I get too twitchy whenever I can’t move on.”

“Of course, of course. But I would still advise you to, at least, stay for some stellar cycles. You can’t really get the full experience otherwise.”

And so, Hot Rod stayed. Joining Overlord whenever there was a fight happening and watching the poor mechs dying for a chance of freedom, but the speedster knew that it was a lie. Overlord never lets anyone live, and he only needed to witness one winner getting annihilated by the Phase Sixer after their hard earned winning streak, for him to get into the arena himself.

At first, he made sure the deaths would be quick. Hot Rod hated dragging them out. No-one was supposed to suffer when he fought them. Not when there was already enough suffering across the galaxy, but then he was confronted with his next opponent. And Hot Rod’s blood started to boil.

He remembered the mech from when Optimus came to gaze upon the burned remains of Nyon. That mech dared to insult his city, his people. Calling them cowards for destroying their home and not finding another way out. And for once, Hot Rod didn’t hold back, nor did he let the Autobot die a quick death.

No, Hot Rod took his time with killing this mech

At first, he made the mech stagger and fall by weaving between his punches. His opponent was taller than him, but this wasn’t the first time Hot Rod faced off against someone that was bigger and stronger. And neither was it his first time fighting a mech who had an ego bigger than what was healthy. So, it didn’t take him long until the Autobot was tired out, and with one quick punch between his chest plates, the big fella fell. With Hot Rod quickly descending upon him. Ribbing through cables and painting the ground of the arena with his opponents energon, until the Autobot could no-longer move. The speedster hard removed every cable needed for that.

However, Hot Rod didn’t finish him off yet. Rather, he took one look at the mech, before igniting his fire. Coating his right arm with flames burning hotter than they should while he slowly pressed it against his opponents chest. Melting his chest plating as Hot Rod’s hand steadily buried its way closer and closer to the mech’s spark. And when he reached his destiny, Hot Rod stared into the Autobots eyes. Tilting his head slightly to the side while smiling sweetly, before plunging his hand deeper. Burning him from the inside.

And only when it was done, did Hot Rod look up. Staring Overlord straight in the eyes, as he slowly got up. Energon that wasn’t his own dripping from his frame, before he turned around and left the arena.

He had given them a spectacle. He had given Overlord exactly what he wanted, and now, he was tired. Primus, was he tired. Using his flames freely without restriction was one thing, but using them in a concentrated way that made it able for him to burn through another Cybertronian’s plating was another thing. There were many things he had to consider after all. The spot where he was concentrating all his flames to, the intensity of the heat used and the willpower to pull through.

And that alone made Hot Rod tired. Tired enough to not notice the looming presence following him.

“That was quite the show you put on, Roddy.” Great, Overlord coming after him was the last thing he needed. Especially when he was low on fuel and his frame was screaming at him to rest.

“Can we not do this now Overlord? I’m not really… in the right mood for whatever this is going to be.” Hot Rod sighed, as he felt his body slowly shutting down. Maybe he shouldn’t have gone all out, but pit be damned, it was worth it. Even if it was just to shut up the dark part of his spark and, in a twisted way, protect his fallen city and people's honor.

“I can see that. Using those flames of yours must have really tired you out.” Overlord grinned, as he scooped up the exhausted speedster and started to carry him down the halls. “I can’t recall ever seeing them. Nor have you ever said anything about them. How come?”

Hot Rod didn’t want to, but he couldn’t help but lean against Overlord, before answering the big lug. “I just didn’t think it would interest anyone. Flames aren’t really that special after all. There are far cooler abilities out there.”

“And yet, I must admit that they fascinate me. Seeing you burn through your twelfth opponent with such ferocity, such bloodlust, one could start to think that you relish in the pain of those you kill.”

Hot Rod knew that Overlord was toying with him, but frankly, he was too tired to indulge him. So, he simply shrugged his shoulders as best as he could, before closing his eyes. Thinking more about the fact that he’s killed twelve mechs so far, with only the last one being a brutal death. Seems like he still has his self-control in check. Good.

"Twelfth… huh? So, did you come to pick up the scraps and finish me off? Don’t think that that would be satisfying for you.”

“Oh no. I’m not here to fight you. I’m just here to make sure you’re taken care of, before your ‘final fight’. I want you to be presentable and at full strength after all.” That didn’t sound good. The final fight, from what Hot Rod has seen, was one between Overlord and whoever the unfortunate Cybertronian was that got so far.

“Sorry… but that won’t happen. The second I can, I’m calling in our deal and leaving this place. And you can’t really do anything against it, Lordy.”

“Are you sure I can’t do anything against it?” Asked Overlord with that degradingly silky tone of voice that caused Hot Rod’s internals to churn in hate. And, maybe, something else. But he didn’t say so. Instead, the speedster online his optics and glared up at the smug looking bastard towering over him. Growling lowly, as he hurled a small blast of fire at Overlord’s face. But considering his state, it didn’t reach its target. Dissipating the second the blast left his outstretched arm.

Causing Overlord to let out a chuckle, as he readjusted his hold on the weakened speedster. Holding Hot Rod’s arm, while gently squeezing it. “I take this as a ‘No’, Roddy. And if I were you, I wouldn’t try to argue with me. Not when you like your arm.”

“Suck my exhaust pipe.”

“Maybe later.”

Later came all too soon for Hot Rod and, turns out, Overlord didn’t really mean an actual fight when he told him he had to be ready for his ‘final fight’. It was a proposition. One he wasn’t sure if he should accept, but considering everything else, he said yes. And ended up with more than just Overlord sucking his exhaust pipe. Because it turns out that Overlord doesn’t just have very kissable lips, he’s also very good with them… and with everything else too…

That’s also why Hot Rod finds himself fighting back a deep blush whenever he remembers that night. Even as he moved on, leaving the prison and planet, the memory of that night never truly left him. It was something else, and to be honest, it was probably the first time Hot Rod felt understood or even heard out. And the only part that caused some sort of anger to rise whenever he thought about that was, that it’s Overlord.

That guy’s supposed to be a dangerous but charming mass murderer who kills only for the fun of it. Not someone Hot Rod feels comfortable around… and yet, the spark wants what the spark wants. And so, the speedster did the only thing he could think of.

Run as far as he could and wait until the war was over, before going back to Cybertron. He wanted a new start, something that could give him a chance to break out of the circle of violence he found himself in, and yet, the only jobs he got were those that caused others pain. And those only caused the dark part of Hot Rod’s spark to grow, no matter how deep he tried to push it back down. It always rose up, just like Overlord said.

Maybe that’s why he joined that weird crew when they were looking for Cybertronians who wanted to join their quest in finding the Knights of Cybertron. Maybe he thought that the Knights could help him with his problem. They were Knights after all, they surely fought some mechs. They should know how to deal with the urge to kill, right? They could help him, right?

Either way, joining the crew might have been the wrong call. Not because it wasn’t fun, oh no, despite him being surrounded by Autobots, Hot Rod had a blast. He even found a friend in the swordmech named Drift. His problems were more with the crew members who knew him from his time as mercenary. Especially that Whirl fella always tried to pick a fight with him, and Hot Rod always obliged. Whipping that mech’s aft over and over, and always landing in the brig for it. If he didn’t know it better, he would say that that big blue mech was after him. Then again, he did kind of steal his version of the Autobot Codex and vandalize it, so, yea. It’s kinda deserved.

But still, no matter how many adventures they got into, or how often he fought with Whirl, Hot Rod couldn’t escape his urges. They always came back to haunt him, especially after he visited Rung to talk about Nyon. It was turning into a problem, one his new and only friend always seemed to notice. And then, Hot Rod would find himself seated next to the swordmech. Trying his best to meditate with him, but it was harder than he thought.

Things have only gotten harder for Hod Rod since the peace time started, and they seemed to only get worse when it was discovered that none other than Overlord was held on the ship. Like, wasn’t his life already hard enough? Did Primus really have to make him face the one mech he loathes and maybe loves the most?

Primus was probably using him as nothing more than a joke, but at least he got to fight the Phase Sixer. And this time, Hot Rod didn’t hold back like the other times the crew got into a fight. Oh no, he went into the fight with fists raised and fire blazing. Taking some of his new crew members by surprise, because they only knew him as a neutral mech who, sometimes, got into fights with Whirl. Not as someone who would willingly go up against someone like Overlord and flirt while doing so. It sure was fun.

“Well, well, well, look what the cyber-cat let loose. Haven’t seen you since Garrus-9, Lordy.” Chuckled Hot Rod, as he dodged one of Overlord’s strikes by ducking and rolling to the side. “Don’t tell me you’ve been… hey!… Waiting for me in that cell.” Another dodge, before he sent a blast of fire into the Phase Sixers direction. Successfully distracting him from stepping on poor Pipes and probably killing him. “If I had known, I would have visited you sooner.”

“You left so soon after our special night and never came back, I thought you'd forgotten about me.” Chuckled the big mech, before driving his fist into the ship’s wall and ripping out a pipe. Which he hurled after poor Pipes. Knocking him off his feets but not killing him. “But had I known that you were here, I would have broken out sooner.”

“Awww, sounds like I’m your new favorite mech! Heh, I bet it’s my charm that won you over.” Hot Rod quickly struck a pose, before jumping to the side and doing a somersault to dodge another one of Overlord’s punches. Doing his trademark finger guns as soon as he stood up-right again. “Come one, admit it, ya missed me!”

“Of course I’ve missed you, Roddy. None of the mechs I’ve met after your departure have screamed like you have.”

That seemed to shut Hod Rod up, because the flamboyant mech couldn’t quite figure out what Overlord meant. And so, he put his hands together and two fingers against his lips, before moving everything forwards and pointing at the mech in front of him. “You’ve interfaced with someone else? You don’t really strike me as someone who would do something like that.”

“Oh no. I actually meant your screams when you burned the hole into that Autobot’s chest.” Answered Overlord, before quickly smacking away the pipe Hot Rod picked up and threw at him. “But now that you mention it, I also missed those screams.” And with each word, Overlord walked closer and closer to Hot Rod, until the small speedster was literally trapped between a wall and the Phase Sixer. And as soon as he was sure Hot Rod couldn’t escape the situation, Overlord leaned down to whisper straight into his audials. Purring softly. “And I’ve been itching for another ‘fight’, little flame.”

But before Hot Rod could say anything, they got interrupted by some of the crew. Much to Overlord’s dislike. “Can’t you see we’re having a moment!?” He yelled, before noticing exactly who interrupted them. “Ah. Why hello Maximus. I haven’t seen you since Garrus-9 either.”

And then, everything turned into chaos.

Hod Rod still can’t remember how he managed to somehow slip past the two the second Maximus bounced on Overlord like a rapid turbofox ready to tear out someone’s spark, but hey. When he was still a mercenary he didn’t really question things like this either. So, he simply stood there. Watching, taking notes on the fighting styles of both mechs and waving at those of the crew who decided to join the fight. And when asked why he was standing to the side, Hot Rod simply shrugged his shoulders and said, “Would you get in between this?” Which was met with understanding nods, until things got even messier.

And now, Hot Rod found himself sitting in that one cell together with Overlord and that poor minicon Rewind. Or at least with whatever remained of Rewind. It was a shame, not only because of Chromedone, but also because Hot Rod kind of liked the witty minicon. He was fun to talk to, even though he often had to pretend to be someone else in front of him. Just like with everyone else.

“You seem unhappy to be stuck with me.” Said Overlord, after the silence between them grew too large. “And here I thought our reunion would be a lot better.”

“Well…” Started Hot Rod with a rather annoyed tone. “ You just killed some of my crew members and poor Rewind over there, I think ‘unhappy’ is underselling it a little bit.”

“Since when did you care about other mechs? As far as I can remember, you never cared about anyone else but you.” He scoffed while waving a hand around. “But it seems like a few years apart can change even the most interesting mechs. What happened to the Hot Rod who fought bigger mechs than him and then used them as his perch? What happened to the Hot Rod that killed mechs with a single shot, and then joked about it? Where is he?”

“Gone! He’s gone, Lordy. Gone, buried and never coming back.” Growled Hot Rod, before smacking his hands against his face. “And honestly, I was happy with that, but then you had to come back! Just walked right into my life and dug him up again… Thanks for that.”

“You’re welcome.”

“What!? Nevermind, listen. It would have been better if he-” Hot Rod was about to explain why exactly it was better for him to have that part of his life buried, but Overlord stopped him with a quick kiss.

“It’s a shame to see you bury such a lovely part of yourself, little flame.” Purred the bigger mech, before sitting back up and pulling Hot Rod onto his lap. “Do you know how thrilling it is to watch you tear through one mech after the other? To see you turn them into grayed out husks of their former selves? I loved seeing you take out all that buried anger on mechs who deserved nothing else but death.” Overlord chuckled, before his smile turned into a frown as he saw how Hot Rod was avoiding his gaze. So, he softly placed a finger underneath the smaller mech’s chin and tilted it upwards. Giving him no other choice than to look into his smug face. “Why are you so scared of a part that’s so beautiful?”

“Maybe because if I… if I show it, others won’t want to be with me? Because it reminds me too much of Nyon? I don’t know…”

“And even if others would avoid you if they knew about it, what does it matter? You still got me, Roddy. I would never turn away from someone as beautiful as you.”

Hot Rod couldn’t help himself not to laugh. This was cheesy, while also sounding impossible. “You’re joking, aren’t you?”

But Overlord only smiled, before leaning down to press another kiss onto Hot Rod’s lips. “If I were, you would be dead.”

And then, it was their ‘final fight’ all over again.

[schrijverr]

Do You Want to Go with the Strange Man, Buddy?

Divergence from chapter 13, where tía Pepa is forced to drop Christopher off at the 118 while Eddie is at the academy, because Abuela isn’t feeling well and she has to work. This leaves Buck with a surprise introduction to make to everyone.

On AO3.

Ships: Buddie (pre-slash)

Warnings: mentioned minor character death, mistaken child abduction

~~~

Buck had been working out on his own. It’s a slow shift – almost q-word, but he’s not saying it – so he actually took a decent shower after. He doesn’t know what it is about the shitty showers, but they’re homely to him.

Anyway, when he gets out and back into uniform, he checks his phone to see he’s missed a call from Pepa. She’s supposed to be dropping Chris off at Abuela’s house right about now, so he frowns and quickly calls her back.

“Oh, Buck, good. You’re on shift now, right?” she picks up.

“Yeah, I am. Is everything okay? Is Chris?” Buck asks worriedly.

“Christopher is fine,” Pepa tells him and his muscles unclench slightly. “We’re outside your work now, can you be there quick?”

“I can be there right now,” Buck says, starting to move towards the doors without a moment of hesitation. “And you’re sure everything’s alright?”

“It is, it is. Mama just can’t watch him today, she came down with a stomach bug,” Pepa explains.

At that point, Buck is at her car, quickly looking inside and waving over to Chris. However, he doesn’t immediately go over to him, because Pepa has gotten out of the car and closed to door behind her, a clear sign she wants to talk to him real quick, before Chris can hear.

Lowly, Pepa says: “Mama can’t watch him and I can’t take him to work right now. I can when I’m off, but not before. I tried calling Eddie, but he wouldn’t pick up. Is he safe here? Can you get off?”

Buck knows checking your phone at the academy has a high chance of getting yourself yelled at, so he gets why Eddie wouldn’t see the call. Mentally he makes a note to send Eddie a text about it all, before he assures her: “Of course I can take Chris. My Captain’s pretty chill, he’ll give me off or make me man behind or something. I’ll figure it out.”

“Gracias, gracias,” Pepa says, kissing his cheeks. “I have to go rush back before my lunch hour is over now.”

“Of course,” Buck blushes, still not entirely used to the warmth of this part of the Diaz family. He takes Chris’s bag from her, slinging it over his shoulder, before letting her get in the car, while he goes to get Chris.

Pepa has said her goodbye to him by the time he gets to his door, so he’s just focused on Chris when he opens the door. “Hey, buddy! Excited to hang out with me today?”

“Yeah,” Chris cheers.

“Good,” Buck smiles, unbuckling Chris from his seat and lifting him out of the car. He puts him on his hip while reaching in for the crutches, then the two of them wave goodbye to tía Pepa.

With her car out of the parking lot, Buck suddenly finds himself alone with Chris. At work. And it hits him that this is going to be a very hard thing to explain. Hell, he doesn’t even know how to begin, because how the fuck is he going to play this off?

It seems like frat boy Buck is dying today and he hopes they’re not going to be too weird about it in front of Chris. He’s never wanted his own issues to touch Chris. However, it’s also going to be heartbreaking to introduce him to everyone as his son, knowing that won’t last forever.

Subconsciously, he hugs Chris a little closer, before forcing cheer into his voice saying: “Well, I gotta introduce you to everyone then talk to my Captain for a bit, but then I can show you all the trucks and equipment. How does that sound?”

“I get to see the trucks?” Chris asks excitedly. With Buck sharing stories over dinner or breakfast on an almost daily basis, he’s gotten very enthralled with firefighters, so it’s dream come true.

Buck’s heart melts at the sight and decides that no matter how today goes, he’s going to make fucking sure Chris can see those trucks up close and personal. “Yeah, Superman, of course. Let’s go. Wanna be put down?”

Chris shakes his head. He has quickly realized that they first need to get through boring adult stuff before he can see the trucks and he wants to speed the whole process up. Which means he is perfectly fine where he is, getting to look around while papi does the walking for now. He’ll be independent when they get to the cool stuff.

So, Buck apprehensively makes his way up the stairs with Chris in his arms. He’s unsure what kind of reaction he should be bracing for when the finds the others hanging around the couch with their mugs, pausing when they see him.

For a moment, all of them just look at each other.

Then Hen cautiously speaks up: “Uh, Buckaroo, where- where did you get the kid? Did someone… Did he get lost?” she corrects herself, knowing Chris can hear her and not wanting to implant the idea that he was abandoned before they know more.

And Buck knows he should explain, but just going ‘no, this is my son’ feels weird when it’s not forever and this set up is just too funny. So he doesn’t explain and instead shrugs: “No, I just saw him while I was at work and took him.”

Everyone’s eyes get wide and they all freeze, as if they can’t believe that they’re hearing that and aren’t sure if he’s joking or not. They know Buck can’t lie, but since it’s technically true, it doesn’t read like a lie, which is hilarious to Buck right now.

He keeps a straight face as he turns to Chris and says: “Isn’t that right, Chris? I just took you off the streets.”

Chris – a little shit after his own heart and a better liar than his papi – just grins and nods: “Uh-huh, you did.”

Chimney must decide that he’s fucking with them, because he rolls his eyes: “Alright, sure. Was there anyone with him?”

“Yeah,” Buck says. “She wasn’t paying attention. I mean, I took this little guy here right out of her car and we waved at her when she left. Didn’t even blink. Probably didn’t care I did, did she?”

“That’s right,” Chris chimes in again.

At this point everyone is starting to get actually concerned. Buck is a little offended that they are, but he also gets it. Who knows if he snapped or something? A child abduction case should always be taken seriously. So, he should probably also stop now. Maybe a bad joke to make to begin with.

“Buck,” Bobby says, getting up slowly and holding out his hands as if calming a distressed patient. “I am asking you, if you can give the child to me. Okay?”

And look, he should just explain now, because this has gotten out of hand – story of his life, he supposes – but he can’t let this moment pass. It’s an educative moment, a cautionary tale if you will. So he turns to Chris on his hip and jostles him slightly, before quirking a brow and asking: “Do you want to go with the strange man, buddy?”

In the background, everyone is just getting more and more concerned with Hen and Chimney also rising to their feet and putting their mugs down. Buck half thinks one of them might sneak away to grab a tranquilizer or something, a true sign he should have never done this, but it’s too late for that now.

Luckily for everyone, Chris puts them all out of their misery by giggling: “No, papi.”

“Good answer!” Buck cheers, pressing a kiss on Chris’s cheek as he hugs him closer. “That is right, do not go with a strange man.” He turns to everyone else, who is still staring at him, perplexed. Buck has never seen someone blue screen like that. Ignoring it, he just goes: “And that’s how you teach stranger danger, people.”

For a few seconds it’s silent. The three others in the room blinking at him as they try to wrap their heads around the sharp turn that has just happened.

Not wanting to wait around for the explosion, he barrels forward, talking to Chris again as he goes: “So, let’s make them not strange people. This is my Captain, Bobby. Do you remember me talking about Bobby?”

“I do, he’s the Captain with the nice food,” Chris tells him.

Buck blushes a little, saying: “He is indeed the Captain with the nice food, but that was our little secret, remember?”

“But, papi, you’re not supposed to lie,” Chris counters.

“It’s a non-serious lie,” Buck defends himself, feeling a little called out anyway. “But you’re right. No lying. Want to say hi and thank you for the nice food?”

Chris nods and Buck makes his way over to Bobby, so Chris can shake his head. “It’s nice to meet you, Captain Bobby. I’m Christopher. Thank you for the nice food.”

Bobby now remembers Buck sneaking leftovers out the fridge. He always let him, figuring the kitchen in his frat house sucked and he didn’t feel like cooking there. Having the sudden knowledge that his food has instead been shared with this kid. This son Buck has apparently had this whole time, twists something inside him.

A little shellshocked, he shakes Christopher’s hand, saying: “Uh, yeah, call me Bobby. It’s nice to meet you too, kid. I’m glad you like my food.”

Chris smiles at him, but Buck moves on to the others before Bobby manages to form his face into a semblance of a smile back. It hits him all over again. Buck is a father.

“This is Hen, the badass paramedic,” Buck says, gesturing to her first and she waves at Chris and Chris waves back.

“Hi, nice to meet you,” Hen smiles, shaking his hand when he holds it out.

“It’s nice to meet you too,” Chris says politely and chipperly.

When Chris looks away again, she gives Buck a wide eyed look and quirks a brow. Buck sends a half grimace, half smile back. Then he moves onto Chimney saying: “And this is Chimney, the one with the funny name.”

“Hey! I’m also a badass paramedic,” Chimney exclaims, playing it up and snapping out of his funk, while Chris giggles. “Nice to meet you, kiddo.”

“It’s nice to meet you too,” Chris says.

During the introduction, it’s clear that both are obviously trying to hide how weirded out they are. Buck is starting to realize it might have been a little dumb of him to lean into the frat boy thing, but in his defense, it will probably be true soon. And that doesn’t hurt at all, no sir.

Shaking the gloomy thoughts off, he asks Chris: “I have to go talk to Bobby for a bit, do you wanna hang out with Hen and Chimney while I do? They know everything about the ambulances, I’m sure they’d love to answer your questions.”

“And then we can go look at the trucks?” Chris asks hopefully.

Buck just melts and he gives Chris a soft smile: “Yeah, buddy, then we can go look at the trucks.”

“Okay.”

He puts Chris down, encouraging: “Strong legs,” hovering a moment until he’s solid, before handing him his crutches. Then he points to the kitchen and says: “I’m going to be right there the whole time, so you can just call out if you need me, yeah?”

“I know, papi,” Chris assures him, a little bit of attitude that he totally gets from Eddie shining through.

“Alright, alright,” Buck grins as he shakes his head. Behind Chris’s back, he sends Hen a questioning look and a thumbs up, silently asking her if it’s okay. She gives him a reassuring smile and he relaxes a little with the relief.

He stays for just long enough to see Chris move towards them without any shyness, before making his way over to the kitchen. Bobby is right behind him and Buck feels very uncomfortable about the whole thing. Exposed in a way he usually tries to avoid.

So, before Bobby can say anything, he starts talking himself: “I know, I’m jumping this on you and I’m so so sorry. He was supposed to stay with Abuela, but she isn’t feeling well and tía Pepa can’t take him to her job and she couldn’t reach Eddie. But I can try to see if I can reach him, or stay behind and use my PTO or something. I totally understand if you can’t accommodate this right now. Again, I’m so sorry.”

“Buck, breathe,” Bobby says, brow creased worriedly. He places a hand on his shoulder and makes sure Buck is looking at him, then says: “We’re here to work with you. I’ll need to clear it with the Chief, but I’m sure we can figure something out until you figure out childcare.”

“Oh, that’s- that’s really nice,” Buck stammers.

Bobby still isn’t sure where the kid came from, but Chris is clearly Buck’s and he is panicking. As much as it hurts to think about it sometimes, he still recalls how stressful and scary being a parent can be. Of course he’s going to support him, even if he still hasn’t processed everything.

He squeezes Buck’s shoulder, searching for more words of support, finally settling on: “Of course.” He wants to ask more about the how and when of the kid, but before he can, Buck’s phone starts ringing.

“Fuck, that’s Eddie, I have to take this real quick,” Buck says, turning away, but not really moving away as he picks up: “Eddie? Hi, yeah, Pepa said she called you.”

Buck has never mentioned an Eddie before today and he doesn’t know how to feel about him, remembering what he almost fired Buck for. Maybe it’s more recent than that? Even if that seems even more ridiculous. God, Bobby hopes it is though.

He can’t hear what Eddie says. However, he does hear what Buck responds: “Everything’s fine. Abuela’s not feeling well, so she dropped Chris off here, until her workday is done.”

Then Buck listens briefly for a moment, before nodding, despite Eddie not being able to see. “Uh, yeah, that’s okay. Everyone here is super nice and helpful. Bobby says we can figure something out. So, I’ll keep him for now, no worries. We’ll look at the trucks and he’ll be thrilled. You just focus on training, I doubt your instructor will be pleased with you taking calls like this or missing out.”

Something in Bobby’s heart clenches at how soothing and worried Buck sounds. He gets the feeling he can now be reasonably certain he knows who Eddie is; his partner. Another thing they all missed. Buck has had a family this whole time. And they don’t sound strained, which is a relief. Though maybe also a bad thing?

That feeling is further confirmed when he sees a small shy smile on Buck’s face as he responds: “No problem. We’re a team, remember? Bye.”

He hangs up, before facing Bobby again face still slightly red. “Uh, sorry about that. Hope you don’t mind me promising that to Eddie.”

“I don’t. It’s okay, Buck, truly. We’re a team here too,” Bobby says, which makes Buck relax. He seems really anxious about this whole thing and Bobby worries about what makes him feel so on edge. “Are you okay?”

“Me?” Buck asks, taken by surprise. Then he smiles awkwardly and unconvincingly says: “I’m fine.”

Bobby levels him with a look and Buck looks away. Deciding that stern probably won’t work on Buck, he goes for compassion when he says: “Look, clearly this was something you didn’t want to share. I get that it’s scary and I just want you to know that we support you, no matter what. You’re safe here.”

Buck’s eyes widen momentarily, before his smile becomes more real. “Thank you. It’s not exactly like that, but thank you.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I just assumed-” Now it’s Bobby’s turn to be awkward. He could have sworn Buck was just coordinating with his… spouse? Partner? Boyfriend? Husband? His Eddie. Maybe it’s a nickname? Maybe it’s something else that would explain the sleeping around. He hopes it will explain the sleeping around.

“Oh, no, Eddie is my husband,” Buck quickly assures him, which clears up exactly nothing. In fact, it makes it worse.

“Now, I’m confused,” Bobby tells him honestly, praying Buck will give him more information that will turn him into someone Bobby recognizes, someone more than a cheater, who lies and hides.

“Uh, it’s- it’s a bit of a long story. Me and Eddie are married as friends, for Chris’s sake. His mom walked out and I kind of stepped up. So, I adopted him when Eddie had to go back into the military. He is training to be a firefighter right now. When he’s stable, he, uh- he’ll probably divorce me. Kinda hard to bring that up,” Buck grimaces apologetically.

Bobby blinks a few times, that is indeed a long story and that’s with probably most of the details missing. However, it does clear up the sleeping around situation, so he’ll take it. Still, unsure what to say, he asks: “So, how long have you two been married then?”

“Coming up two years, but living together and raising Chris for three,” Buck answers, looking over to Chris with a melancholic note in his voice.

Okay, so this isn’t just a recent thing for a last tour, but a years long thing. Bobby knows what it is like to lose a kid, but to know they’re still out there? God. He doesn’t know this Eddie, but that is an awful thing to do to a person. He frowns: “And you’re just going to disappear when he is stable?”

“Uhm, yeah, probably. I mean, we haven’t really discussed it,” Buck rubs the back of his head, then admits: “I’ve been too scared to ask.”

“Buck…” Bobby breathes, unsure how to even begin to tackle all this.

“I know,” Buck sighs before he can figure it out. “I know I should talk to him. I know that. But if I know, I can’t cling to the possibility of it not happening, you know?”

He looks devastated. It’s only in his eyes, his face keeps that helpless half smile, but his eyes carry a deep grief that Bobby knows. He has already given up on keeping a professional distance, so he just pulls Buck into a tight hug and holds him close when Buck melts into it.

When he pulls back, he says: “The not knowing is killing you too. Talk to Eddie, tell him this. If he is a friend, he’ll understand and want to help. We’ll be here for you whatever happens.”

“Thank you, pops,” Buck says with a crooked grin, sounding a little choked up. He hasn’t called Bobby that since his second month there, but the nickname brings back a wave of nostalgia, and – treacherously – a voice in his head flirts with the possibility of being a grandfather, before Bobby represses it.

“Of course,” is what he ends up saying. His smile feels a little more forced, but he sounds genuine when he says: “Go show your son the trucks, I’ll call the Chief.”

Buck’s eyes sparkle when he says ‘your son’ and he nods eagerly: “I will. Again, thank you so much,” then he bounces off to the couches.

At the couches, Hen and Chimney have stared at Chris for all but two seconds. Neither of them have a clue what to do with the surprise news that Buck apparently has a kid. A kid that is now staring at the two of them with big eyes.

“Uh, so how old are you, Chris?” Hen finally asks. A standard question to ease into it.

“I’m seven,” Chris tells her proudly.

Hen quickly does the math. That makes Buck nineteen when Chris was born. She shares a look with Chimney, who did the same math as her. With Buck’s record of sleeping around, that doesn’t entirely come as a surprise. However, the well adjusted kid speaks to a lot more maturity that his recklessness would indicate.

“That’s already really grown up,” she smiles at Chris, who beams with pride.

Both of them are used to working with kids, so Chimney takes over: “Buck mentioned you were interested in the ambulances?”

Now Chris lights up even more. He sure is a happy kid, Hen thinks fondly. Apparently Buck is a good dad, that’s nice. And it becomes increasingly clear that he raised Chris, because when he starts launching questions at them that are truly impressively detailed, his face is the exact same one that Buck makes when he’s learning things and curious. It’s truly adorable to see.

They answer his questions the best they can, getting very charmed by this kid in front of them. They can almost forget that Buck pulled a kid out of thin air. Still, every time he does something Buck-esque they’re reminded all over again.

Hen wonders if there is some drama with the mother, since she now recalls Buck knowing a lot about custody. If Chris had been an accident, then they might not be together anymore and Buck has had to go to court about it. Maybe it had been a whole thing?

Chimney meanwhile realizes why Buck canceled so much on them at the start. Still does, they’ve just gotten used to it. At the time he’d been so jealous thinking he must have more fun parties or hot dates, but he probably was just going home to his son. Obviously childcare is an issue.

He wishes the kid had just opened his damn mouth about it. He remembers how rough it had been for Hen and Karen when they first adopted Denny. How it’s still difficult sometimes. They could have helped. Chim finally got the babysitting gig down. He has had practice.

It’s a bit of a mindfuck to have to reframe Buck from a frat boy to a teen parent. However, the pieces do fit in a way. The flashes of maturity, the way he can flip the switch to being responsible, the way he’s gold when there are kids on a scene.

So, yeah, Buck is a dad. That’s a little new.

But it’s only new to them, clearly it’s not new to Buck. Because when he’s done with his talk to Bobby he swoops back in, hauling Chris up over his shoulder as he says: “LAFD here to rescue you!” which makes Chris shriek with delight.

Buck puts him back down and ruffles his hair, matching big smile on his face. “Are you ready to look at the trucks now, Superman?”

“I am, I am,” Chris says, bouncing up and down.

“Alright, then, let’s get this show on the road,” Buck exclaims, gesturing for Chris to lead.

The four of them make their way downstairs, all of them smiling at Chris’s excitement at seeing the trucks. Despite being older than him, they all remember that same feeling from their first day.

It’s obvious that Buck takes much pride in his work and the fact that Chris thinks his career is cool. As he shows everything with much gravitas and importance, not to mention a matching thrilled sparkle in his eyes.

Chris gets to try on his helmet and sit in the rig, while Buck takes a billion pictures. After he’s snapped one in particular, he grins at Chris: “Daddy’s going to be so jealous of you, getting to sit in a real fire engine before him.”

“He will,” Chris grins slightly mischievously.

Behind the duo, both Chimney and Hen freeze. Daddy. There is a second parent involved. With what they know of Buck that is almost more unexpected than the kid thing.

Hen wonders if maybe the other dad is trans and it’s still what she first thought, while Chimney immediately grimaces. He doesn’t want to judge Buck too harshly, I mean, he didn’t for Hen, but it’s different with Buck. So, he can’t help but judge a little.

“Daddy?” Hen asks, deciding it’ll be better to just find out. If it puts Buck on the spot, they can pretend to buy whatever excuse he comes up with for now and interrogate him later.

“Uh-huh,” it’s Chris, who answers, “he’s becoming a firefighter like papi is!”

Buck on the other hand looks less enthusiastic and more like a deer in headlight, blinking two times, before quickly explaining: “Eddie is Chris’s dad – other dad. Bio dad? – uhm, he’s my husband, but we got married as friends. It’s a bit of a long story.”

“They made them kiss,” Chris informs the other two firefighters there a bit too gleefully. “It was really silly.”

“Chris was with us for the wedding,” Buck clarifies with a blush. “It’s a thing they expect you to do.”

Both of them just nod. Hen is sure that there is a much more detailed and much more stupid story there to explain all this, but honestly, she doesn’t feel like figuring it out. Chris is still right there and Buck looks like he’s going to kneel over if they ask more. She’ll wrangle it out of him when he’s had more time to get his head on right.

At that point the alarm goes off and Buck freezes a little. However, Bobby appears at the top of the stairs, about to go down the pole. Before he does, he calls out: “Buck, get yourself into gear. Kid’s coming with us.”

“Aye, aye, Cap,” Buck says, relieved to get some clarity. Then to Chris he goes: “You hear that, bud, you’re going to be a firefighter today.” Chris cheers. “Stay right there, okay, I’ll be with you soon,” Buck promises, before hurrying off to get into his gear.

When they’re driving to the accident, Chris has a thousand more questions and eagerly listens to all their answers and explanations. As well as to the little jabs and teases they throw at Buck. He takes them like a champ, rolling his eyes as he takes more pictures.

At the scene, Bobby sends Buck out there, keeping a close eye on Chris for him and walking the boy through everything that’s happening. He makes sure to pay extra close attention to Buck and explain what he is doing to Christopher.

Bobby tries not to, but he can’t help but wonder if Robert Jr. would have been equally as invested if he’d ever been able to go with him to work. He always misses his family, his kids, the most on days like these. On calls with kids, or when classes come in.

He puts it out of his mind though. Buck is closer to being his kid on most days and he has made some peace with it, even if he won’t acknowledge it yet. However, it makes it easier with Chris than with another kid. It doesn’t feel like he’s replacing his own, it’s a relationship he hasn’t had with anyone before yet. New is good.

After the call, Chris is in high spirits, excitedly rerunning every moment to everyone and asking more questions. He is very much Buck’s child. However, this also means he’s easily distracted by the video games they have and the pinball machine.

For a snack, Bobby asks if he liked one leftover in particular, making sure to whip that up, much to the boy’s delight.

By seeing Buck around Chris so much, it normalizes itself in their brains that Buck is a dad. The shock and newness wears off and they can appreciate this side of their probie they hadn’t seen before.

Buck is still basically an over excited puppy, but he matches Chris’s energy pretty well, never going further than he wants. He also has gotten the balance between letting Chris be independent and preventing him from doing something dangerous down to a science.

It’s very interesting to see traits they know he has being dialed up or down to suit this situation. How natural it looks on him, despite their previous assessment of him being a frat boy.

However, it’s also very obvious to all of them, that he is still a kid himself, raising another kid. None of them – bar Bobby – have a general idea of how long he’s been doing this, but they can all gather that Chris is older than most kids people Buck’s age have.

Of course he’s a firefighter, but he tosses Chris around like it’s nothing, keeping up easily with his boundless energy, and saying stuff like: “High five, Superman!” when Chris tells Chimney that his movie quote was weird.

All in all, Chris is having a blast and so is the 118.

They’re all helping Chris slide down the pole, grinning as he goes, when a brown haired man comes wandering into the firehouse. He stops short when he sees the whole spectacle, then smiles.

Out of everyone there, only Hen has spotted him. At first she thinks he might need help, but they have to focus on Chris’s safety first. However, when she sees him stopping to watch, she knows that must be Eddie. Buck mentioned them getting married as friends, but looking at him smiling at Chris and Buck, she doesn’t know how much truth there was to that.

Her theory that this is Eddie is confirmed when Chris is safely on the ground. Buck is grinning down at him, not paying attention to anything else. Then Chris spots Eddie and smiles widely: “Daddy!”

“Hey, buddy,” Eddie smiles back.

Buck immediately turns to look at him, a love struck look coming on his face when he says: “Eddie, hey!”

Fucking hell, she was so right that there is a much more detailed and much more stupid story there. It is obvious to her that if these two are married as friends, they’re both lying to the other and maybe to themselves about it.

“Hey, Buck,” Eddie greets back unnecessarily. “You two look like you are having fun.”

“We are,” Chris answers for them, bouncing up and down. “I got to try on papi’s helmet and sit in the rig and then we went to this crash and the sirens were on. We had these headsets and I got to see papi work. He saved this lady from her car. It was so cool!”

“That sounds very cool,” Eddie tells him, the utter adoration for his son clear in his eyes. He cards his hands through Chris’s hair and hugs him close.

While that happens, Buck has also come to circle the two of them. He says: “I thought tía Pepa was taking him today. You’re here early. Everything okay?”

“Yeah, everything’s fine,” Eddie assures him. “Instructor let us go early today. I think he’s getting soft on us.”

“Pff, of course. LA training is soft on you all,” Buck teases.

Eddie rolls his eyes, apparently familiar with this particular taunt as he replies: “Here we go again. Let me guess, in Texas they forced you all to sweat through it like tough guys.”

“You got it,” Buck grins. “Anyway, I’m being rude. This here is Bobby, my Captain.”

Bobby steps forward, shaking Eddie’s hand as he says: “I’m Eddie Diaz, it’s nice to meet you, sir.”

“Likewise,” Bobby smiles. “And no need for sir. Just Bobby is fine.”

“This here is Hen and Chimney,” Buck moves on introducing both.

They shake Eddie’s hand too, telling him it’s nice to meet him while he returns the sentiment, though he adds: “It’s so nice to put a face to the names,” as he does. Whatever hiding Buck was doing, it was a one sided hiding act. However, none of them mention it. Not in front of Chris.

“So,” Buck claps his hands. “Did you come for a tour of the trucks too? I told Chris all the facts, he could probably give you a great tour. You know, since he’s been in an actual rig.”

“You’re full of it,” Eddie tells him, but he’s smiling too much to mean it.

“I know,” Buck replies simply and Hen wonders if they know they’re flirting.

Before either can figure that out, however, Chris tugs on Eddie’s hand, pleading: “Please, daddy, I can show you everything. There are loops on the hoses, just like papi said. Do they teach you that too?”

Eddie looks a little caught out, trapped between Chris and the 118. Carefully he says: “I’d love to, mijo, but papi and his team have people to save and help. We should give them space to work.”

“It’s okay,” Bobby says, before Chris can even pout properly. Much like his papi, Chris has got him wrapped around his little finger. “We have the house on low priority calls for the time being. You staying a little longer won’t be an issue.”

“You’re sure?” Eddie checks anyway.

“I’m sure.”

“Thank you so much,” Eddie says, before turning to Chris: “Well, then I would love a tour.”

Excitedly Chris directs Eddie to the trucks, telling him everything he’s just learned, while Buck chimes in from time to time with other tidbits or words Chris has forgotten. Throughout it all, Eddie listens with great pleasure. He’s clearly not as much of a talker, but it seems Chris and Buck more than make up for that.

While they all watch the family from the sidelines, Chimney asks: “So, does anyone know more about what their deal is?”

Bobby – the savior with actual information – answers: “From what I understand, they got married after Chris’s mom walked out so Buck could be there when Eddie had to go back into the military. They’ve been living together for three years, married two.”

Chimney whistles lowly, then checks: “And we all heard him say they’re married as friends, right?”

“Oh yes, we did,” Hen replies, sounding a little pained.

Next to her, Chimney cocks his head, watching Buck and Eddie bump shoulders every time they walk, because there is no space between them. Slowly, he asks: “And… are we… believing that?”

“Oh, definitely not,” Hen says.

“Come on, guys. Let’s not speculate too much. Buck hasn’t been comfortable sharing, we should respect that,” Bobby butts in, trying to be the responsible Captain.

That earns him a double judgmental look from both Chimney and Hen, before they ignore them and turn back to their conversation. “I don’t think Buck would do the whole sleeping around like that thing, if they were actually already together,” Hen says.

“So, we’re betting on pining.”

“Of course.”

“Okay, they’ve already been doing this for three years… That denial runs deep.”

“Yeah, it definitely does,” Hen agrees. “Did Buck mention anything about their communication to you, Bobby?”

Bobby sighs and rubs his brow, then decides he’s really no better than either of them. So, he admits: “It is their plan to divorce one day, but Buck hasn’t talked about it yet, because he fears Eddie will just cut him out.”

“…Now I don’t know if I should laugh at him or feel a deep sympathy,” Hen comments with a jikes grimace on her face.

“I told him to talk to Eddie about it. Clear the air,” Bobby offers.

“Twenty dollars on them figuring it out when Buck brings it up,” Chimney says confidently. “There is no way, Eddie is going to not kiss him about that.”

“Hmm, I don’t know.” Hen appraises Eddie again, squinting as she tries to get a read on him. “Twenty on them not figuring it out for another three years. And another forty on them never getting divorced.”

“Uhm, you can’t bet on things that are basically facts,” Chimney complains.

“Hey, you don’t know that!” Hen exclaims, knowing he is right, but she doesn’t care if it’ll get her forty dollars. They’ve been eyeing new cutlery.

“Ugh, fine! But I’d like it on the record that I protested it and I want my counter bet to be that they do a vow renewal instead,” Chimney says.

“Alright, deal,” Hen nods, shaking Chimney’s hand as they seal the deal.

They all return to watching the three at the trucks again. Buck has lifted Chris onto his shoulders, so he can properly point at all the things he’s talking about. Eddie is listening to him, sure, but he is definitely more focused on Buck.

After a few beats, Chimney wonders: “Hey, now that we know Buck adopted Chris and they met a few years ago. Do you all think there is some truth to him snatching Chris story?”

“God, I fucking hope not.” … “Five bucks says there is.”

“Ten says it’s an exaggeration.”

They shake on it.

“Fuck it,” Bobby mutters, then says: “Five on it being wilder than that.”

They shake with Bobby too, then wait until the tour is done. They haven’t gotten to speak with Eddie much, but it’s okay. Everyone has gotten the chance to observe him and he seems nice and polite when they say goodbye.

Buck stands there like a mom on the very first day of school, waving at them until they disappear when they do leave. The others kindly do not call him out on it. There is a bet now, so no interfering.

Still, the only reason they don’t ask, probably actually is because the alarm starts ringing so they have to go and focus on an emergency instead of Buck’s newly revealed private life.

Throughout the course of their shift, they do learn more details about how Buck got into that situation. When he tells them about dating Eddie’s ex-wife and meeting her while she shopped for eggs, is something they have a fucking filed day with. And it earns both Hen and Bobby some money.

They also learn about Eddie’s chopper getting shot down and Buck nursing him back to health. He chokes up a bit there and Hen rubs his shoulder.

As she does, she feels a little bad about the self satisfied grin she tucks away. If they can go through that and not confess, she was definitely right in placing her money on three years.

However, overall, it doesn’t change too much.

Still, when Buck comes in for his next shift, they all eagerly turn to him, wondering if he’ll turn back into over-sharer Buck now that the cat’s out of the bag. They need to know more about this nonsense he found himself in.

Buck does not disappoint. He eagerly hollers: “Eddie is not going to divorce me!” which turns the heads of everyone who hadn’t been there last shift. Seems like Buck is going to have to explain it all over again. And the betting pool will grow. Hen is so getting that new cutlery.

~~

A/N:

Credit to Memememe8989, who suggested this idea in the comments, I had a different idea that is somewhat related to this (which granted, I might still write), but this was just so iconic that it immediately gave my brainworms <333

Llsdkghdhkf there was so no reason for Buck to do pretend to have kidnapped Chris, but the idea was just too funny and you can’t tell me he wouldn’t in his awkward insecurity

The full phone convo for those curious:

B: “Eddie? Hi, yeah, Pepa said she called you.”

E: “She texted me to call you. Is everything okay?”

B: “Everything’s fine. Abuela’s not feeling well, so she dropped Chris off here, until her workday is done.”

E: “And is that okay? I don’t want you to get in trouble of this.”

B: “Uh, yeah, that’s okay. Everyone here is super nice and helpful. Bobby says we can figure something out. So, I’ll keep him for now, no worries. We’ll look at the trucks and he’ll be thrilled. You just focus on training, I doubt your instructor will be pleased with you taking calls like this or missing out.”

E: “Okay, that’s good. Thank you.”

B: “No problem. We’re a team remember. Bye.”

E: “I do. Still, thanks. Bye.”

[comment-exchange]

327. Fleeting Florals (Buffy the Vampire Slayer)

Title: Fleeting Florals 

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/46942600 

Platform: AO3 

Creator: Kalira 

Work Type: fanfiction 

Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer 

Rating: T 

Pairing: Spike/Drusilla 

Word count: 1,146 

Warnings: minor OC death, mentioned canon-typical animal neglect/death 

Number of comments: 0 

Completion Status: Complete 

Short summary/description: It’s Spike’s job, always, to look after his Dark Princess; he prides himself on knowing just the right ways to keep her happy and keep their lives smooth. (And at times, that means keeping her occupied.) 

[ominisstanforever]

This Is How I Feel and All I Can Say Is Thank You chapter 8- The Day Before.

Spoiler warning!!

TW mention of intercourse

TW mention of minor character death

TW funerals and memorials

You still need to finish prepping for the tomorrow, but there's also something special about tonight. It's the day before everything changes forever, and the day before you say goodbye for the last time.

[lildevyl]

FebyWhump Day 6: Secrets Revealed

DSMP Mafia AU

Summary:  After his interesting encounter with the young blond, Wilbur decides to do a little digging on the young Tommy Innit.

Mafia/Superpower AU.  Inspired by Fate of Mortality by SPooKZSTARZ and 12AM? No, Never W1sh111

TW: Mention of Violence, Minor Character Death, Character Death, Mafia AU, Crime, Mentions of Murder, Mafia like Violence Mentioned,

It was strange.  Normally someone who was in the Severing Industry never acted or talked like that to someone like Wilbur and his family.  And yet the kid acted like he didn’t know who they were, which was weird considering their family business and who the kid’s boss was.  Clementine was the manager of the Wait Staff of the Casino and  her nephew, Tommy was a waiter.  And yet it appeared that Clementine tried to keep her nephew in the dark about who Wilbur and his brother and father are.

But what was it about the kid?  He was bold, brash, loud, annoying at first and didn’t seem like he had a filter.  And yet he was not so afraid of talking to a lot of the people that did nothing but shady businesses.  The kid, Tommy even laughed and said how dumb their plan was to try and get any intel.  Truth be told Wilbur kinda forgot the kid was even there when he was talking to his father Phil on what to do next.  Tommy scuffed and said, “If you really want to know how to get the true dirt on someone. Then go undercover as a staff member.”

They all looked at each other with raised eyebrows.  “Seriously?”  Tommy asked.  “How many times have you ever noticed any of your staff members when they’re coming and going?  How many of the maids know your combination locks to the safes?  Your passwords to your computers?  The code to the alarms?  When you're talking business on the phone do you stop talking when a staff member comes and starts cleaning or delivers a message?  How many times have you even noticed any of the wait staff until now?”

Silence.

“My point exactly!”  Tommy said.  “So, let’s do an experiment then.  You’re Siren right?”  Wilbur nodded.  “Okay, then let's get you dressed up a staff member and see how much dirt you manage to find out about your clients”

“And if I don’t?”  Wilbur challenged.

“Then I’ll be your personal waiter every time you stop by then,” Tommy offered.

They shook on it and Wilbur got ready for his first undercover job as a waiter.  Tommy even took one of the name tags off of the board and put on Wilbur, reading Henry.  And boy was Tommy right!  He found out so much info it wasn’t even funny!  Although Wilbur did feel bad for that one girl Sally.  Her Mom was trying to marry her off to anyone rich to keep living the lifestyle since her business was starting to go under.  When Wilbur got back to his family and gave his report, he couldn’t help but be intrigued by the blond.

There’s something about Tommy but what?  Wilbur knows that he’s seen that kid before but for the life of him.  He honestly just can’t put his finger on it.  Wait  .   .   .   Didn’t Clementine have a brother?  What was his name again?  The sound of the keyboard clicking away was heard from Wilbur’s Office.  After about an hour of searching, Wilbur found what he was looking for.  Clementine’s brother Timith Actias.  Wife Clara Actias and son Thomathy Actias.  The family they had gotten rid of years ago.  The Actias decided that they didn’t need to pay back the money they were owed and ghosted Wilbur’s father, Phil for months at a time.  To be fair they give the family plenty of time to pay it all back.  But just decided to ignore paying their debt until they came knocking.

Wilbur was staring at his computer screen with three death certificates of the Actias family.  Wilbur wasn’t sure what he was going to find.  Clara and Timothy were both murdered, Wilbur knew that since he committed the murder himself.  And their son Thomathy died by drowning.  A swimming accident that happened at the pound near their backyard.  All of it matched up.  But the more Wilbur stared at the screen the more he realized that there was something off about one of the death certificates.  He just couldn’t figure out what though.  The name, date of birth, date of death, the cause of death.  It all seemed to line - wait was it just him or did it look like the date of death was a little out of line?  It was supposed to line up with Date of Birth and yet it’s slightly off center.  At a first glance you wouldn’t see, not if you didn’t know what to look for.

Wilbur typed the serial number on the bottom of the death certificate into the search bar on the website he was using to look at the digital copies of the death certificates.  The name popped up was the same Thomathy Theseus Actias but the dates didn’t match at all.

Date of Birth:  April 30th 1880

Date of Death:  October 31st 1975

So, someone faked Tommy’s death certificate.  And but the looks of it, Tommy was named after his Great Grandfather.  Oh this was gold!  The assets of the Actias estate couldn’t be touched until after the kid turned 25.  If Tommy never claims them before he turns 25 or after he turns 25, then on midnight of January first the entire estate and assets go into public domain for buying, selling, and auctioning.  Well, now, Wilbur always wanted a little brother and this will surely pay the Actias debt and then some without having to deal with greedy money shark lawyers and investors.

Now, the question is, how was Wilbur going to convince his father and brother?

****

Tagging: @weirdmixofweirdness, @tracobuttons, @a-humble-narcissus, @isa-ghost, @febuwhump

[crow-with-a-pencil]

Was trying to get inspiration for the thing and ended up rereading your story twisted kelp and yellow eyes. i didnt remember the last part with mel and now my heart hurts.

does mel ever find beetle after that?

Yes, actually! They meet again 9 years later in a much different place, and are currently friends. Both were uhhhhh... anxious after the last encounter, to say the least, but they're still besties in the end.

Also, for those who haven't read, feel free to check out the 11k oc story I wrote a few months back, along with a short reunion epilogue (assuming this link works hhhhh)

Won't spoil anything specific, but your answer lies at the end of the dock.

[purgatory-is-life]

Mechtober prompt 22/day 22-immortality

i keep putting marius through the horrors and i probably won't stop. i swear i love him he's just so easy to make angst of.

@mechtober-2024

Uncertainty and Immortality - Reality666Rift999 - The Mechanisms (Band) [Archive of Our Own]

tw; temporary character death, character death, mentioned/implied violence, Out angst, some minor suicidal ideation, implied/mentioned gun violence, blood, gore, a bit of eldritch horror, probably more than that, please let me know what i need to add!

----

Marius didn’t necessarily know if he believed in immortality.

Of course, the Mechanisms were probably immortal–they died-revived-died all the time. They killed-revived-killed each other all the time. They had forgotten Brian in a star for a century, and he was mostly fine—after a while. Marius had died so many times, had died to become Marius. How could he not believe in immortality? It’d been thousands of years since he’d gotten his arm. Probably more, probably much longer.

But he didn’t necessarily know if he believed in immortality.

Of course, the Music explained to him in sweet symphonies and gentle decrescendos and brassy tunes, over and over again– he was here forever. Always to be its voice box, always to play along. And if he leaves? He would only join the cacophonous chorus, his violin joining all those before him that had been cursed. But the Music didn’t want him to join just yet, as much as it could want anything, and so he was here forever.

But the Music lies.

It always had, and always would.

Marius thinks that’s where he got it from, where every other sentence a falsehood came so naturally from. Marius is the Music’s most recent Voice, and the Music lies, and so Marius lies. Just like the rest of the Crew, he spoke in songs and lyrics and stories, concocted and written out to be nothing but that– a story. True or false, who’s to say at this point. The Music lies, and so Marius lies.

And Marius was pretty sure the Music lied about the Mechanisms living forever.

Whenever one of the Crew died, there was always a spark of anxiety, a spark of fear as that oh-so familiar Song played quietly in his mind, that feeling of, Oh, they’re not going to wake up this time, are they? But they always do. They always wake up, and the Song fades, and everyone goes about their business, and Marius forgets the feeling until the next time.

It’s always different when he’s the one who dies, even though the Song doesn’t change. It’s more of a feeling of, They won’t have to deal with me anymore. Maybe I can rest. And yet he always wakes up. It’s less of a fear, more of a quiet hope. Sometimes he does remember to be afraid, he remembers to worry–will his friends miss him? His friends still needed him, he still needed his friends–

And then he wakes up, and everything goes back to normal. The keening Song fades once again.

That’s just how they worked, they died-killed-died-revived all the time as if it was second nature. Perhaps it was, at this point. They shot just as quickly as they gave kind smiles. Jonny shot more than he gave any sign of kindness, really.

The killed-died-revived so frequently, that eventually the fear and Song just became background noise. He still tried to avoid it, still pushed it down and ignored it when he could, but it kind of just became a fact of his seemingly never-ending life. Every time he or one of the other Mechanisms died, there’d be a little seed of doubt in his mind about whether or not they’d wake up. They always did. It wore on them, Marius could see it so clearly, in their aimless destruction and heavy shoulders and tired eyes. But Marius was always grateful when they woke up. I’m not ready yet, he’d think, for them to disappear. He wasn’t sure he’d ever be ready, constantly dreading the day their mechanisms finally gave out and they’d die for real. Always afraid, always hesitant to harm because what if it didn’t heal.

He was still much quicker to harm than any average mortal, he still did his fair share of killing and maiming of the Crew–especially when they stole his kneecaps. A little revenge never hurt anyone for too long. Much better than getting Lost in the Music on purpose and wandering the ship with his mournful violin, as that often only led to his kneecaps being stolen again. And getting Lost was never a pleasant feeling.

He still hovered, though, especially when it was their mechanisms that had taken damage. None of the others liked him poking at their mechanisms, despite the fact that he was probably more qualified to work on them than he was on the fleshy bits. To be fair, they didn’t exactly like Raphaella messing with their mechanisms either– Jonny was the most common culprit, but many times the others liked to avoid maintenance as much as possible. Marius never pushed though, it’s not like he didn’t understand. He only let Raph work on his arm every once in a while, preferring to do maintenance himself. (The Music lies like it is the most natural thing to do, every note misread and every string misplaced, but Marius did not want to risk its warnings of what could happen should Raph or one of the others be faced with Marius’s mechanism maintenance. The Music did not like to be Seen, after all. Only heard.)

But whenever their mechanisms were damaged, he hovered off to the side until it was fixed–manually or by their healing factors. Just so that he could be sure that they were alright, that they’d get up again soon. He tried his best not to be clingy, usually, tried his best to avoid taking up too much space around them or invading their personal space when it wasn’t welcome, but his anxiety was never quelled until he saw that they were okay, and that they were going to be alright.

Marius, admittedly, was not a person who enjoyed uncertainty. He was almost sure the doubt of ‘true’ immortality was what made him scared more than anything, the possibility of losing one of the others suddenly and without reason.

And of course, that is what happened, when Nastya went Out.

He and Nastya weren’t especially close, Nastya spending more of her time hiding away in the depths of the Aurora and doing whatever-it-was she did as an engineer and as Aurora’s girlfriend. She only ever showed up for meal times or for Crew Night and concerts, or during the occasional crew-wide tea party hosted by The Toy Soldier. She tended to disappear whenever they were planetside, her own wanted posters popping up without fanfare or loud explosions like Tim or Jonny or Ashes. And besides, half the time planetside, Nastya rarely left the Aurora.

But that changed one day, out in deep space.

And she left, disappearing.

Possibly forever.

Something changed among the Mechanisms, there was a loss that felt… Well, it felt final and it was strange.

Marius found himself hovering more, clinging even though he tried not to. Worrying, heart racing, every time someone died. That fear that had become background noise was almost always present and in the forefront.

One day, while staying in the cockpit with Brian, the brass pilot said quietly, “She’s probably cold out there. It was so cold…”

His voice was tinny and distant, and Aurora creaked sadly in response.

“I hope she’s not cold… I hope we find her soon…”

Marius didn’t say anything, remaining silent. Just climbed into Brian’s lap and purred till the both of them fell asleep.

Marius did not like being uncertain.

Perhaps that was why he latched onto Lyf so strongly.

They were temporary, and it was a guarantee that they were temporary. The system was doomed, crushing Songs and endless Noise and it was fragile and temporary, so very temporary. Obviously, going into something and knowing it won’t last for-probably-forever made it easy to not get attached…

One would think.

But Marius fell fast, and when he fell he fell hard. Always had, probably always would. What started as teasing and making fun of the inspector in charge of the three of them eventually turned into something a bit softer, something a bit–perhaps not kinder, but gentler. Something a bit more akin to care, as close to care as one could get with the Mechanisms.

And then the train arrived, and he and Ivy and Raph left, and Lyf was gone.

And it hurt.

It was awful and Marius could barely think past the pain in his heart and the Songs screaming from the remains of Yggdrasil, but it was expected. He could bury his grief and fear with more, different grief.

And then they returned, Lyfrassir managed to escape somehow and they were back. And they somehow managed to return to Marius’s life, even though they hated him. He didn’t mind, hating him was fine. He couldn’t force Lyf to feel anything. He was content to just appreciate that they were there.

Of course, though, they were still temporary. They were still definitely going to die one day, and maybe it was odd that he found a sense of comfort in that. Maybe it was wrong. But it was true, and that was comforting to Marius. Because it was expected that he’d lose them, that they’d disappear. He didn’t have to deal with that aching fear as much, that feeling of They won’t get up, this is it our luck’s run out, because when they died there’d be no reason for them to get up and start walking.

That didn’t stop the pain when they did die, though. That aching, familiar fear creeping in.

It wasn’t supposed to go like this, after all. This wasn’t how they were supposed to die. They weren’t supposed to die by a bullet to the head, a bullet probably meant for Jonny as he was only a few meters behind them and had done significantly more to anger the people on this planet– they were supposed to die old and withered when Marius was ready. When he could actually look death and eternity head on and say ‘I’m not afraid’. They weren’t supposed to die only a few short years after joining them, after starting to travel with them.

And then… Well, perhaps, the most unexpected thing happened.

Lyf’s dark blue blood that was starting to stain Aurora’s silver floor started glimmering and glowing, turning into a prismatic array of rainbow hues.

Lyfrassir’s glassy eyes widened, and their voice was pulled from their throat without them having to speak.

Y’ai ‘ng’ngah Yog Sothoth hee-l’gleb f’ai throdog

Uaah ogthrod ai’f geb’lee-ee’h Yog Sothoth ‘ngah’ng ai’y zhro

The rainbow blood rose off the floor, the staticky colors making it hard to look at without gaining a headache but Marius couldn’t force himself to turn away as the blood stitched, slowly, painfully, stitched the wound in Lyf’s head closed, the reality warping as the wound disappeared, as if it never existed.

The iridescent blood seemed to stain Lyf’s pretty silver hair, colors seeping into their locks from their roots, most prominent and most vibrant where their hair was already stained with blood. But the blood was disappearing into nothingness but heat auras and steam around Lyf’s forehead quickly, a light returning to Lyfrassir’s eyes.

The wound seemed to stop existing as it was restitched by Lyf’s blood.

What was Marius so concerned about again? Why was Lyf on the floor?

Lyfrassir blinked, sitting up. Their white pupils had taken on a slightly iridescent hue, their hair seemed to move on its own, like there was wind on Aurora that there shouldn’t be. Splotches of their braids and their roots were stained with that same slightly iridescent hue. They looked around at the Mechanisms, who were staring at them with various looks of horror or concern.

“Wh… What happened?” Their voice was hoarse, like they hadn’t spoken for a while.

“I-” Brian was the one who spoke up, voice cracking as he did so, “I think you died.”

“I…” Lyfrassir’s eyes widened almost comically. “I died?”

“And then you came back,” Raphaella agreed. There was likely more said, Marius could see Lyfrassir’s mouth move as they talked, could see Jonny waving his arms as his tail swished and flicked angrily while he paced, could see Tim fiddle with xyr gun and Ivy snapping and Raph’s wings fluttering and Lyf grabbing their hair and Brian wringing his hands– there was likely more said.

All Marius could hear was the symphony screaming and shouting over itself, a Song oh-so familiar to Odin’s Void and the Bifrost’s whippoorwill call.

Lyfrassir disappeared into their room for a few months, and no one did anything to try and coerce them out.

Marius could barely be around them, the screaming Void and Whippoorwills and yelling symphony overwhelming him, only serving to get him Lost.

Marius didn’t know if he believed in immortality, the Music lies and Marius was sure one day their mechanisms would give out and wouldn’t heal anymore.

Whenever Lyf exited their room, they were disgruntled and their braids looked rougher than it ever had in all the time Marius knew them. Their hair was still stained with rainbows and their eyes still shined with opalescent colors, but the keening Void and keening Whippoorwills had calmed down, simply matching their usual background noise.

Marius approached them, after that.

“I think I’m glad you’re not Temporary,” he admitted. “But it scares me more than I’m glad.”

Lyfrassir replied with a confused ‘thank you’. They didn’t look at him. “I didn’t want this, when I escaped. I just wanted to live, but not like this.”

“You didn’t deserve to be Taken by something like our Music. But it probably only let you escape on purpose, for this.”

There was a moment of silence. “I think eternity is a long time. I don’t want to live forever.”

“I’m not certain we will. But at least we’re here, for however long ‘forever’ really is.”

After that, things returned to mostly-normal. It was strange, and everything was different, but it was like nothing had changed, in a way.

Marius just had one more person to hover over, whenever they were injured and whenever they got killed. To make sure that they lived, that they came back.

Marius just had one more person to fear losing.

Marius really hated the uncertainty of immortality. Marius really hated how scared it made him.

But it was something he was going to have to live with probably-forever.

Hopefully Nastya was somewhere warm.

[phanfictioncatalogue]

(TW) Minor Character Death Masterlist

A Song for Lottie (ao3) - schnaf

Summary: Dan was quite happy without Phil in his life. But then, Lottie came along. Lottie, the annoying girl with a sweet tooth and a bad mouth. And you just can't say no to Lottie. Even when she wants you to meet Phil again.

A World Alone (ao3) - orphan_account

Summary: Alternatively: What to Do When Your Imaginary Friend isn't So Imaginary: A Guide by Phil Lester

Dan has been Phil's best friend since they were little kids, and it's hardly ever mattered that he's only imaginary. They stick together through facing first grade, growing up, and getting a tree house of their very own. When Phil loses his dad in a car crash, he only relies on Dan more. High school is just a little bit easier together, and he can almost ignore his growing crush on Dan and the feeling that something's about to go terribly wrong. But when Dan is revealed to be more than either of them ever imagined, it's too late to keep pretending.

all this broken bone (ao3) - parentaladvisorybullshitcontent

Summary: "People touch me and they die, that’s it.”

The words seem to hang there in the air between them, heavy and impossible.

"You're kidding," Phil says, faintly.

In which Dan can't touch anyone without killing them, and Phil has a crush on him anyway.

All Was Golden in the Sky (ao3) - whalefairyfandom12

Summary: Dan and Phil are the heirs of Enigmaity and Illumination, two kingdoms at war for longer than anyone can remember. Magical attacks neither light nor dark have been destroying both worlds, leaving nothing behind except a bright red balloon. Phil is forced to flee and asks for Dan’s help, but alliances aren’t so easily kept and promises are quick to be broken. With the moon and sun at war, sunset is fast approaching and all they can do is hope.

climbing stairs (ao3) - kipcoded

Summary: "'If stir-fry sounds good to you, I can – Dan?' Phil asked, hearing a sudden sob from behind him. He turned quickly to see Dan with his hands to his face, shaking with the force of a sob."

(Dan's mum dies suddenly. Dan tries to hold himself together, but loses his composure entirely in front of Phil. Phil comforts him like the sweetheart he is.)

Climbing the Ladder (ao3) - kawaiikanai

Summary: Punk!Dan and Punk/TattooArtist!Phil both struggle to find themselves after past events that have shaken their trust in other people and in themselves.

collateral beauty. (ao3) - commonemergency

Summary: When an old school friend dies, Dan and Phil travel to Wokingham to attend the funeral. A place that Dan used to go to as a child but never thought he'd go back to again, leaving him with sets of questions that he doesn't know can be answered. Or the one where Dan and Phil talk about religion and what they believe in.

Commas and Ampersands (ao3) - obliviongrace

Summary: Several lessons in grammar and linguistics from Phil. When Dan’s grandma dies, Dan and Phil must put their work on hold to travel to his family’s house, causing them to ponder on their choices.

empty nights, synchronised (ao3) - karcathy

Summary: It's not Phil's first winter in Antarctica, so he's pretty used to how things go around here. A new face catches his eye, but before he has a chance to get to know him, things around the station start to go wrong. The long dark winter becomes a lot more exciting when your survival is at stake.

Eternity (ao3) - velarisstars

Summary: Vampire!Phil will do anything to protect his human boyfriend, Dan. Even if that means turning him into the very thing Phil didn’t want him to be. But when Dan gets severely hurt, that seems to be the only option for the both of them.

Frigid (ao3) - mooksie01

Summary: Daniel Howell is trouble. It’s a well-known fact of the school, and Phil isn’t stupid enough to try to interact with him… at least, he wasn’t. But now he’s talking to Dan, learning about him, and suddenly wanting to protect him? Where did he go wrong?? And why the hell is Dan Howell so damn pretty???

go your own way (I'd give you my world) (ao3) - itsmyusualphannie (itsmyusualweeb)

Summary: “I’m Dan,” said Dan.

Phil could not look away from him. He thought that Dan was probably the prettiest boy he had ever seen. “I’m Phil,” he said back, because it was polite to introduce oneself to people, otherwise they would remain a stranger. “Phil Lester.”

And so they became friends.

or: a Forrest Gump AU where Phil slowly falls for his best friend as the years go by, but Dan loses himself to the world and his past.

I Think I'm Breaking Down (ao3) - Lizzyboo

Summary: “Hello?” he answered, surprised to find his voice calm under the circumstances.

“Phil,” Martyn’s voice was tired and tight, and Phil wanted more than anything to hang up on him and crawl back under the covers for a few more hours. Days if possible.

“Yeah.”

He didn’t ask the question, they both knew what the phone call meant.

It didn’t make it easier to accept though.

In The Embers (ao3) - sapphictealeaf

Summary: A story about Phil, his life shifting from a happy one, to one of misery and despair. When the Evil Queen takes everything from him, he seeks ways to take something back. Insert Dan. They both have their troubles and strifes, but in each other and their friends they find comfort as they fight to take their kingdom back from the Queen.

Kiss From a Rose (ao3) - Nefertiti1052 (Succubusphan)

Summary: Phil is a hawker trading from town to town and looking for an adventure, but when he is caught out in a storm, a beautiful stranger becomes his only hope.

Like tidal waves (ao3) - gravityplant

Summary: Phil's a single father dealing with a touchy kid and a turmoil of emotions after a terrible accident that has torn Phil's perfect life into shreds. He gets advised to go on a vacation away from the buzz of the city with faith in his heart that this might be what solves all of their problems... What he doesn't expect is to meet someone that's going to turn the tide in Phil's life.

Love You For Always (ao3) - TwistedRocketPower

Summary: In the UK, an estimated 6,000 children die each year. When Dan and Phil became parents almost seven years ago, they never imagined they would become a part of that statistic.

Phil Lester, The Spy who Shagged me. (ao3) - CactiPhan

Summary: Phil Lester, AKA 009, is an international spy working with MI6 When an unbearably cute boy compromises one of his missions, but they end up becoming secret partners in crime to save the world- till one of them gets hurt...

Second Chance (ao3) - phan_anon

Summary: Alpha!Phil is a slave bought for Omega!Dan's use. But there's more to the Omega's story than Phil originally believed, and he may need the Alpha's help in a way he never expected.

syzygy (ao3) - dantiloquent

Summary: Phil Lester, an amateur photographer trapped in a monotonous life, is the last person to see Toby Stanford's killer before they disappear into London's crowds. He decides to keep that a secret - alongside the photos of them he has stashed away in his backpack. In a matter of hours, he is flung into a new life: one of clues and murders and lies. In a world swarming with surveillance, it's a battle against time and the police. But Phil will find this killer, and he'll get his story - or will he? Sometimes, not even a camera can capture exactly what is living beneath the surface.

The Hunchback of Notre Dan (ao3) - orphan_account

Summary: After twenty six years of solitude after his family died in a mysterious fire, Dan gains the courage to disobey his strict, controlling, adoptive father, catholic priest Clide Niccolo, and visit London for a festival. There, he meet's the famous General Phil Lester who is instantly drawn to Dan. The only problem is that Phil is not the only one with his heart set on winning Dan over. Will they be able to escape the threat to their lives, or burn with the rest of London?

The sound of Silence (ao3) - embarrassing_myself

Summary: When Dan moved into his new flat, he absolutely loved it. He quickly finds out though that the adorable couple next door is incredibly loud. It doesn’t seem to matter what time of day it is; they’re always making noise. One day though all that stops and he’s left with nothing but the sound of silence.

trying to keep warm when you’re the sun (ao3) - jackiednp

Summary: dan’s nan dies and phil is the only one who can comfort him

When a heart shatters (ao3) - Phantasticpheels

Summary: When your heart shatters, its all at once. Then slow and over and over again.

Breaking a heart is easy but it takes a special kind of person to pick up the pieces.

Phil learns by experience.

When I Watch The World Burn (All I Think About Is You) (ao3) - rainbowchristy

Summary: Invisible, demon-like creatures infiltrate England. Dan's husband loses his life as a result. Their daughter, Ellie, goes missing. With a blindfold, Dan has a chance at survival. But is it worth it if he's alone?

A Bird Box AU.

When the Moon Fell in Love With the Sun (ao3) - whalefairyfandom12

Summary: In a magical world where light and dark are gripped in battle Dan is an Iniquiter and heir to the throne. His life has been spent preparing him to kill the enemy—Phil Lester. After an accident too many leaves Dan exiled and alone he runs into Phil, who offers a place to stay. Dan accepts with the intention of killing him as soon as the opportunity arises, but maybe Phil isn’t as bad as everyone says he is. Maybe it is possible for the moon and the sun to fall in love.

Weather With You (ao3) - Evening42

Summary: Phil moves to an isolated cottage to start his dream of writing a novel. He meets a mysterious silent stranger on the beach who has a tragic history.

You Can't Tackle Your Demons on Your Own (ao3) - Merrydith

Summary: Dan is obsessed with a series of books by the amazing author, Phil Lester. He spends his time at the coffee shop he works at reading the books over and over again in the closet. When he meets a new co-worker who is also named Phil, they go on a date. Little does Dan know, he's sharing a cup of coffee with the author he's considered his best friend for years.

As he gets to know Phil, he finds that Phil is housing a destructive secret. Why did Phil apply to work at The Brew Bean in the first place and what happens when Phil starts breaking away, piece by piece? Can Dan save his beloved author or is Phil going to fall slowly and hopelessly into loneliness and despair? All the while, Dan is falling in love.