#tw: referenced death

[shiorimakibawrites]

Silence of the Mind (Castlevania Fic)

Inspective character one-shots about the said characters tragic backstory and/or current terrible situation seems to be the only type of pure angst I can actually write.

Anything longer and my brain started thinking of ways to make the character's life start sucking less.

This story was written in 2018 and is based on the Castlevania series (2017 - 2021), not the games. It has been posted on AO3 for several years but since it is a one-shot and my only fic in this fandom, it seemed like a good place to start importing the fics that are only on AO3 over here.

But fair warning, this is one of the darkest things I've ever written.

Shiori's Fan Fic Masterlist

Word Count: 861

Summary: All Trevor Belmont wanted was silence of the mind.

Warnings: Referenced murder, referenced murder of children, referenced torture, grief / mourning, survivor's guilt, PTSD, alcoholism and other unhealthy coping methods, anger, revenge fantasies, hurt no comfort

Silence of the Mind

All Trevor Belmont wanted was silence of the mind.

A time when he didn't hear the screams. A time when he could forget exactly what it sounded like when his brothers and sisters' screams went from terrified pleading to shrieks of agony. Could forget the roar and crackle of the fire that consumed his home, his family, their servants. Could forget when the screaming stopped and the only noise was the fire and the jeering mob that started it.

He wanted to forget the sight, pretend like that the blaze of yellow, white, and blue wasn't burned into his mind like a brand. Pretend he hadn't caught a glimpse of someone – possibly his mother or one of his sisters or maybe even one of the servants – wreathed in flames, mouth open in a scream, body contorting in a twisted parody of a dance. Wished he could forget the faces of the mob that burned them. Those smug, pleased faces, so happy to watch people being burned alive. So happy to watch him cry, scream himself hoarse, and beg them not to do this.

So happy to inform him that once his family was dead, he was next. He could still hear the plans being made for his execution. They hadn't made up their minds before he had gotten away from them but all were in favor of something just as torturous and slow as the fire that killed his family. Not fire. They had seen fire. Him, they would see bleed.

He wished he could forget the smell. The stench of the smoke – sometimes even just a whiff of someone else's or his own fire was enough to fill his sleep with the roar of flames and agonized screams. Or the equally terrible stench of burning flesh. He has lost track of the number of times that someone simply cooking meat has made him vomit when the present smell shifted into the past smell.

He wanted time where he didn't hurt. When he didn't feel like someone had ripped chunks out of his heart and soul. Time when he could remember his father, his mother, his sisters, his brothers, the servants without also remembering their screams. Time when he didn't wish he had been home that terrible day so he could have died with them. Time when he didn't curse his own survival instincts and the trained martial prowess that allowed him to get away from his would-be murderers.

He wanted time when he didn't seethe with rage. Rage that wanted the entire world to burn, to hurt as badly as he did. Rage that wanted to hunt down his family's killers and see how they liked watching everyone they loved die. And not die cleanly either. In his darkest and most rage filled moments, he wanted those deaths to be as agonizing as the one they sentenced his family to. He wanted them to know what it was like to beg for the lives of their loved ones only to have that pleading cruelly ignored.

Fighting helped, especially fighting monsters. Monsters required more concentration and focus for him to beat than men. So much so that his mind couldn't focus on anything else. He could simply live in that moment. And he was allowed to kill monsters. It felt nice to be able to vent his fury, his pain on something.

But fighting wasn't enough. He never had trouble finding monsters to hunt, even when he wasn't looking for them. He also had regular encounters with thieves and murderers as well as the drunk and belligerent. But not regularly enough to keep his mind silent of the screams.

Alcohol could drown out the screams. It numbed the pain, muted the rage. Provided he got drunk enough. Which he couldn't always. The Belmont tolerance for alcohol was nearly as legendary as their battle prowess. Trevor had discovered he was no exception. It took either a lot or very strong alcohol to get him more than tipsy. Which often cost more coin than he was willing to spend.

Fortunately, he didn't always have to get completely drunk to get the silence he craved. He just needed to drink enough that either the tavern patrons decided to pick a fight with him or whatever monster was infesting this particular village decided he would be easy prey. Or he decided to pick a fight with something or someone.

He tried not to do the last one very often. Partially drunk him thought wrestling a werewolf was a good idea. It was not a good idea. He had won but he had also gotten pretty chewed up. Good thing Father's promise that as a Belmont, Trevor was immune to such curses, proved to be true. He didn't know why. It was something that Father was going to explain when he was older. Maybe he planned to explain it when Trevor returned from his first solo hunting mission.

'Except by the time I returned from that mission, Father was dead or dying,' Trevor thought. He grimaced and signaled for another drink. He had clearly not drunk enough if thoughts like that were parading around his head.

[serickswrites]

Comfort & Joy

Warnings: grief, death, mcd, referenced mcd

Caretaker hated this time of year. They hated everything about it: the joy, the gatherings, and most of all, they hated that it reminded them of Whumpee.

Whumpee loved the holiday season. They lived for this time of year. As soon as Caretaker would allow it, Whumpee would decorate the entire house and bask in the glory of the holiday. They loved everything about the season.

"I see you everywhere," Caretaker said to the dark and empty house. "How can I not? Every window display. Every house that's decorated. It all reminds me of you." Caretaker closed their eyes against the tears that were threatening to overwhelm them. "I....I don't mind thinking about you. But when I do.....when I do I always end up thinking about what happened."

Caretaker didn't want to think about what happened to Whumpee. Didn't want to think about when they didn't know what happened. Didn't want to think about finding Whumpee. Or what was left after Whumper had grown tired of them and disposed of their body. Caretaker didn't want to think about that. They couldn't.

"Whumpee, I can't do this. I can't live without you like this. I can't. YOu always said this time of year was full of miracles. So can you do one for me now? Can you please just come back. Can you come back healed and whole? Can you please, please just be alive again. I can't live without you, Whumpee."

Despite Caretaker's sobbing, despite their begging, the house remained cold and dark. As it had every day since Whumpee's body was recovered. As it would remain until Caretaker's grief was no longer all consuming.

Tags: @mousepaw @jumpywhumpywriter @knightinbatteredarmor @hufflepuffwritingstuff2 @anightmarishwhump

@steh-lar-uh-nuhs @celestialsoyeon @st0rmm @ay5ksal @pedro-pedro-pedro-pedro-pe

@pepeniascat

[queermentaldisaster]

Rumor has it that the Riley family is cursed. First, their youngest son, kidnapped under mysterious circumstances. The nephew? Hit by a motorcycle that just happened to roll off the road. The oldest and his wife? Crashed into a tree that was in the middle of the asphalt. The father? Murdered in his hospital bed. The mother? Overdosed on pills she'd never had.

Task Force 141 knows the rumors. Who in the UK doesn't? One day, 141 is sent out to help a team in Las Almas called Los Vaqueros. Apparently, the Las Almas cartel is having a territory dispute with the neighboring city's cartel, the Zaragoza cartel. While Los Vaqueros is handling the Las Almas cartel with Gaz and Roach's help, Price and Soap go to handle the Zaragoza cartel. They go undercover, and discover someone with brown eyes and blond lashes, wearing a balaclava, being passed around like many of the blunts in that room.

Soap manages to get his hands on this person, who's clearly out of it. After some finagling, he manages to get them outside, wrapping them in his coat to provide them with some decency.

When they wake up, they're in a bed in the Los Vaqueros base. Soap asks them for their name and pronouns, and he introduces himself as Ghost.

[lycankeyy]

Nobody ever wants to hear about his favorite pyrotechnics disasters :(((

[itsbebebrainrotting]

Fucking haunting that bagheras the only one who has been in the house and gotten suspicious that something wrong (but she went there to find out what was wrong so even then its not like the house itself made her realise). Bad didnt quite disappear without a trace but he didnt go out with a bang either yknow?

[schrijverr]

I Didn’t Mean to Say I Do, but I Do. I Do. 30

Chapter 30 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, at the hospital, the reality of Buck’s situation starts to sink in, leaving Eddie adrift and numb. What if he has to tell Chris papi will never come home? He spirals more and more while Buck is in surgery, trying to keep it together and as much of their normal in tact.

On AO3.

Ships: Buddie (slow burn)

Warnings: internalized misogyny, self loathing, injury, referenced near death experience

~~~

Chapter 30: Family of Evan Buckley

Eddie feels numb.

On the way to the hospital, Buck passed out, though he didn’t crash. Eddie supposes that is a good thing, but he can’t get the feeling of his slack hand out of his head. The way only Eddie was holding on when Chimney gently pried his finger’s off that limp hand so they could hand Buck over to the medical team that had been waiting for them.

At first he could distract himself with paperwork. With the way they came in, the hospital assumed he was closest to Buck and they aren’t wrong. So, he was handed the sign in papers and Eddie clutched them tightly before Hen or Chimney could take them from him.

He couldn’t let them fill them in wrong, because they don’t know Buck as well as he does, just because they think he can’t handle it. He needs this to be right, so he does it himself.

But now the paperwork is gone and Buck is done with his X-ray and in an operating room and Eddie is just sitting there. Numb.

Maddie comes rushing in and Eddie’s brain tells him he should get up, inform her of everything and be there to support her. Buck is her brother, he should be there for her. However, his body won’t move, staring at the ground with unseeing eyes.

Chimney does catch her, pulling her into a hug as he says: “He’s already in surgery, they took him for an X-ray immediately and they’re doing everything they can to fix him up. He was still responsive at the site and only passed out in the ambulance. He never crashed, Maddie. He got here stable, still is.”

“I’m so scared,” she sniffles. She only just has Buck back in her life. She’s only just free and happy, she can’t lose another brother. She can’t go through that again.

“I know, me too,” Chimney says as he rubs her back. “But he’s in great hands.”

He’s not wrong, the hospital is one of the best and Maddie knows the 118 would have ensured Buck got nothing but the best. But he’s just a face to the hospital and these people have all known him for only two years or less. She’s known him his entire life. So much can still go wrong.

“Who filled in his sign in paper work?” she asks, pulling back in a panic. What if they didn’t fill in something crucial and it gets Buck hurt more, or worse.

“Uh, Eddie,” Chimney answers, he sounds like he knows that doesn’t look great. And it doesn’t. She knows they’re best friends, but Eddie only just got here. He knows the least, why would they let him fill it in?

Maddie whips around to Eddie, ready to grill him about every little thing he wrote down. Before she can, however, she sees the state he’s in. He doesn’t look like Eddie at all, instead he is a shadow of the man she’s come to know, drawn into himself. Empty. Concerning and weird, and definitely doesn’t make her feel better.

She turns back to Chimney instead and demands: “I want to look it over. Right now.”

Chimney thankfully doesn’t comment or make a fuss, just talking to the nurse at the desk and coming back with what Eddie wrote down moments later. She all but snatches it out of his hand and quickly scans everything.

“This is very detailed,” she comments. “I didn’t know he was allergic to naproxen.”

“It’s mild.” Eddie’s voice startles them slightly, no one expecting him to speak at all, especially not with that alien, devoid tone.

“How did he learn that?” Maddie wonders, mind going to horrible scenarios of him being all alone with a fever and taking it in the hopes it would lower it, only for him to break out in a rash, throat closing, no one there to help him…

If Eddie was in the mood to share stories, he could tell her how Chris reacted weird to one of his meds and had to take an allergy test, but was scared, so Buck offered to take it with him. But Eddie isn’t in the mood to tell stories, too overwhelmed by the memory of the two of them side by side, patches on their arms, Buck making jokes to keep Chris distracted. How good that moment was, even when they were in a hospital. How he almost lost that. How he can still lose that. How Chris can lose that.

Without his permission, he chokes on a sob. A horrible wet noise that doesn’t stay behind his teeth, no matter how much he bites on his lip.

Maddie is giving back the paperwork with Chimney, but Hen and Bobby are still both right there, sharing a concerned look. It’s Bobby, who softly asks: “Eddie?”

“Chris,” he gasps. “How am I going to tell Chris?”

He clasps his hands over his mouth and squeezes his eyes closed, putting his face between his knees as if curling into a ball will mean the world will disappear and this all won’t be real anymore. He is shaking and he knows it, but he isn’t crying. He’s keeping it all in. Sucking it up. That’s all he can focus on right now.

An assuring, paternal hand comes on down on his back, jolting him slightly as he clenches his eyes closed harder to stop an embarrassing whimper from coming out at the comfort. Then Bobby speaks: “Hey, Chris is a strong kid. He’ll understand his friend can’t hang out with him for a bit. And Buck will be hanging out with the two of you again in no time. He’ll be okay.”

It’s not a secret that Buck is close with Chris. They try not to discuss him at work, because it’s a risk, but things slip through and telling them Buck is his buddy was the easiest. Eddie thinks the others have assumed he’s a single dad and Buck is doing it as a favor for him.

In a way they’re right, but they’re also so, so, so incredibly wrong.

Buck isn’t just Eddie’s best friend, who hangs out with Chris too on their free days because he’s nice. He’s his co-parent, the person he can look to when he doesn’t know what to do. The person Chris goes to when Eddie can’t be there or doesn’t know what to do.

He’s not Chris’s friend, who can’t hang out with him for a bit, he’s his papi. Eddie is going to have to explain that papi got hurt and might not come home soon. Or at all. He’s going to have to explain that to Chris and he’s going to have to do it alone.

“You don’t understand,” he says, trying to grasp at words that will convey how much this is not going to be okay. What words can communicate that he won’t be okay, because he’s only seven, almost eight, and his parents have been leaving or getting hurt relentlessly his entire life? Buck is hurt. His father is hurt. How can any of that be okay?

“We get it, he’s family. We’re all worried. I’m sure Denny will be saddened to hear about what happened to Buck too,” Hen says, comforting him.

“No-” Eddie starts, then cuts himself off, because if he says more, he’ll start crying. He can’t cry, especially not if they can see.

Maddie and Chimney return and Chimney worriedly asks: “Is he okay? What happened?”

“Did you hear something about Buck?” Maddie immediately asks too.

Eddie abruptly gets up, startling Bobby and Hen, who had both been comforting him. He’s in full parade mode, mechanically walking away without saying a word. The others call out his name and he’s pretty sure Hen starts to walk after him, but she’s stopped by Bobby, who tells her to let him go take a breath for a moment.

He pretends not to hear it. He doesn’t need to take a breath for a moment. He’s fine. He’s totally fine. He’s a Diaz. He’s a man. He doesn’t need to take a breath. He doesn’t need a moment.

He just also walks into the bathroom without seeing where he’s going and suddenly starts crying.

Fuck, Eddie doesn’t know what’s wrong with him. Yes, Buck is seriously hurt, but he saw him in the ambulance, he knows he has a high chance at making it through surgery, even if he might be permanently disabled by the attack. He’ll be fine. Why is he crying?

It’s just… they were doing their taxes only two days ago. That morning they’d been doing a familiar dance as Buck cooked breakfast while Chris complained about not being allowed a bouncy castle at his upcoming birthday party. Again. A few hours ago, they’d been joking around together as they looked for a maggot out of that girl’s face.

Buck is his best friend. He’s never had a friend like Buck before. He’s his partner. He’s in every crevice of Eddie’s life to the point where they’d literally have to get lawyers involved if they ever want get untangled.

He’s Eddie’s whole world next to Chris. He’s his family.

Hen said that he’s all their family, but it’s not the same for them. The 118 is family, but Buck is Eddie’s Karen. His Athena. His Maddie.

But Maddie is Buck’s family. His actual family. Buck might be a closed book about a lot of things, but Eddie has known him for long enough – known him deep enough – that he’s gotten some stories about his childhood. Maddie is the only actual family he has.

And here Eddie is, making it about himself.

Buck is hurt and Eddie can only think of himself. How hard it will be to explain to Chris, how he has to do it alone while Buck recovers. How much his suffering is different than that of the others, because he has allowed Buck to become his support pillar – to come into his life and clean up his messes – and now the thought of him not being there right beside him sounds like a nightmare.

Eddie is the worst friend. This is not his thing to dramatize. He has no claim on Buck, who is only his because – what was it Buck called it? – oh yes, a marriage of convenience based on very convoluted circumstances.

Back then he assured Buck it wasn’t like that, that they were family anyway, but that is a detail that slips his mind right now as he angrily wipes the tears away.

The tears continue to fall, which only makes his frustration grow, until he finds himself punching the wall with a loud yell.

He heaves a few deep breaths, tears still streaming silently down his face, balled hand against the wall. The pain helps him focus. It pulses through his hand and pulls his attention away from the tight ball of emotion that lives in his chest and tries to rip itself out of him through his chest.

After a few moments of standing there, breathing, he manages to stop the crying, to suck it up. He can’t look himself in the eye in the mirror, keeping his head down as he holds his bruised hand under the water, before viciously rubbing his face.

Eddie knows he probably still looks a mess, but he’s managed to push his emotions away again until he’s back in that numb place. He isn’t sure he can be there for Maddie like he should be if he were a better friend, a better husband, but he can at least sit with them all again and not make it about himself.

Tentatively he joins the others. They all perk up when they spot him, some of their faces becoming sympathetic when they can actually look at him. For a second, it seems like Hen is going to say something, but she decides against it much to Eddie’s relief.

Maddie, however, sends him a weird look again and shame floods through him. Averting his eyes from her, he slumps down in his chair and keeps quiet.

He pointedly doesn’t think of Buck being in surgery right now, he doesn’t think of having to tell Chris at some point, he doesn’t think of not having Buck there, and he doesn’t think of Maddie’s weird looks. He keeps himself comfortably empty, content to stay in denial like that until a doctor comes with good news, so he can leave this all behind him.

The doctor does not come with good news.

She comes their way directly without having to call out. Everyone has seen the news and it’s not like they’re inconspicuous in their firefighter uniforms, still grimy from the explosion. So, she walks up to them and gently checks: “Family of Evan Buckley?”

“Yes, that’s us,” Maddie immediately says, getting out of her chair without missing a beat. “You’re quick. Surgery takes longer. Why are you quick? Is he okay?”

Eddie has tensed up from the moment the words ‘family of Evan Buckley’ were spoken. He does not feel mentally ready for whatever is about to happen and it takes a lot of energy to stay in his numb safe space.

“He is okay,” the doctor says and they let out a collective breath. “We’re trying to reconstruct his leg, but the damage is more severe than the scans showed. It’s pretty risky to try and he’ll likely have permanent nerve damage and chronic pain for the rest of his life. And that is if there aren’t any complications later. It would be kinder to amputate.”

“Do it,” Maddie speaks without missing a beat. She has registered the words ‘permanent nerve damage’, ‘chronic pain’ and ‘complications’ and those are enough. She isn’t ready for that. She can’t watch another brother get stuck in a hospital over and over again with something that will never go away. She refuses.

However, Eddie has registered the exact same sentence and added up something very different to her. So, the words prickle at him as an indignation breaks through his numbness. “No, you can’t do that.”

“What?” Maddie scoffs, the others also giving him weird looks for butting on what everyone thinks is her decision to make.

And if it were anything else, Eddie would back off. She is Buck’s family and it should be her decision to make. However, she’s making a decision he’ll know Buck will hate and despite it being a fake marriage in a way, he’s still his husband and he’s not letting her come in and take something important to him. His vows said in sickness and in health and those still mean something to him anyway.

He shakes his head. “You can’t do that,” he repeats. “If you let them do that, he might not be able to be a firefighter anymore.”

“Who cares if he can’t be a firefighter anymore, he won’t be in pain. Or did you not hear that bit?” Maddie says harshly.

“You can always amputate later. It can be his choice, not yours. You’ll be deciding more than whether he’ll be in pain or not, which he still be if you amputate, but you’ll also be deciding he won’t be able to keep the life he has now anymore,” Eddie points out.

“He can find a different job,” Maddie informs him with blunt words.

“A job he’ll hate. He loves being a firefighter. It’s who he is,” Eddie argues.

“Yeah, I’m sure he loves it, but you don’t know Buck. He’s done a thousand different things before becoming a firefighter. I’m surprised he’s done it this long. He’ll find something new and he’ll love that,” Maddie tells him definitively. She turns back to the doctor and says: “Do it.���

Eddie sees red. He hates being condescended to, hates being made to feel as if he doesn’t know what’s best for his own family. He gets that enough and he’s sick of it. He has seen Buck work those other jobs, heard him talk about it all, he knows being a firefighter is different for him. He remembers seeing that spark in his eyes for the first time. That’s not something to take lightly.

Today has already been terrible, his emotions have been all over the place and this? This is the final straw. “Don’t do it,” he tells the doctor firmly, crossing his arms.

“What the hell is your problem?” Maddie yells. “My brother is hurt and going to be in pain for the rest of his life and for what? Because you want to keep your work partner? You can fucking work with someone else. You have family outside of him. I’m his sister, asshole.”

“Yeah and I’m his husband and if I say that leg is staying on, it’s staying on, Maddie,” Eddie explodes, not even realizing what he’s said until everyone falls deathly quiet.

It’s Chimney, who speaks up and breaks the silence first. “Uh, Eddie, I- I don’t think you can lie to the hospital about that just to get you way.”

The other start nodding with those jikes judgmental expressions on their faces. Eddie realizes they don’t believe him and that he now has a choice to make; let Maddie have her way and ensure they keep their jobs or put his foot down and let Buck keep his autonomy, the potential to have the job he loves, the ability to fight for his leg or decide to amputate anyway after he is informed by his own research binge.

It really isn’t a choice to make.

“I’m not fucking lying,” he grits, turning back to the doctor as he says: “I’m Edmundo Diaz – we didn’t take each other’s last names – I should be on the paperwork? I’ve been registered there since 2016, so everything should have been on there when we transferred the paperwork here.”

“Ah, yes, Mr. Diaz,” the doctor says after flipping through her chart. She looks relieved that someone has identified themselves as the next of kin and made a decision, so she can get away from all this. Eddie doesn’t blame her, he would also like to get away from whatever shit show is about to go down after this. “You don’t want us to amputate?”

“It will always be an option later, right?” he checks, because he needs to make sure.

“Yes, we can always amputate later. However, regardless of what he chooses, it’ll be a long recovery and complications can arise either way,” the doctor explains.

“Then, no, I don’t want to amputate. Please, try to save his leg,” Eddie says, voice cracking slightly at the end. Focusing on this is keeping the overwhelming emotions at bay for the moment, but that won’t last forever.

The doctor gives him a sympathetic smile. “We’ll try our best, Mr. Diaz. Don’t worry, your husband is in great hands.” She makes him sign something, before turning and walking back to the OR to pass along the news, leaving Eddie for the wolves.

“Buck’s the husband?” Maddie shrieks, coming to from the shock first, probably mixed in with the anger of not getting her get her way.

“You two are married?”

“2016? You two didn’t meet until last year!”

“I didn’t know you were gay.”

They’re all yelling at him and it’s not good for Eddie’s flayed open nerves. He’s been living with the anxiety of everyone finding out for nearly a year already and now the moment is here and he has to face it without back up. It suddenly seems incredibly daunting.

Bobby seems to notice his overwhelmed eyes and makes a gesture for everyone to calm down so they can interrogate him in peace. Hen and Chimney both notice and quiet down, backing down from being in his face. Maddie, however, does no such thing.

“A year. A year, I’ve hid your husband from everyone. I didn’t tell a soul. Not anyone, not Chimney, not my own fucking brother. And you never thought to inform me that it was, in fact, my brother you’re married to? That Abuela is my in-law? That Chris is my nephew?” she shouts at him, not caring about the looks they’re getting from the other people in the waiting room.

“You knew?” Chimney asks, sounding so incredibly confused.

“Well, apparently not,” Maddie huffs angrily. “Chris talked about his two dads when I stayed with Abuela, but none of them told me who the other dad was.”

Now all the eyes go back to Eddie, who feels himself shrinking under their gazes. The eyes demand answers and Eddie feels six again, standing in front of his papi, the wrecked car still in the yard, with no explanation that feels good enough.

“It was his call,” is what he finally manages. “We always agreed that when it came to family, you’d have the final say if it was yours.”

“Oh, so you’re saying my brother didn’t trust me to tell me he was married?” Maddie demands, the hurt underlining her anger clearly.

“No, no, he trusted you, he just- he didn’t want to put you through that,” Eddie quickly assures her.

“Through what? Knowing he was married to a man? He knows I don’t care.”

“And neither would we,” Hen adds, gesturing vaguely to herself.

“Because it’s not like that,” Eddie finally explodes again under the barrage of questions. “We’re not married like that. We’re not together! It was just convenient, okay? It was never meant to get this far, but one day we looked around and we- we-” he makes a frustrated noise, “we were just in too deep. No one could know. No one.”

It seems like the others don’t know what to do with the truth, much like Eddie himself does right now. He’s been keeping the secret for so long that he doesn’t know what to do when a spotlight is suddenly turned on him.

Tentatively Hen asks: “When you say, it isn’t like that, that you’re not actually together and it was just convenient, what do you mean with that?”

“Buck married me so he could adopt Chris,” Eddie admits shamefully. “He was already helping me take care of him, because I couldn’t do it alone, but he had to adopt him when I had to re-enlist so I could pay the medical bills. PT and surgeries, it- it adds up, you know. Then I got hurt and it was easier to stay married, recover while Buck’s insurance covered Chris. We planned on divorcing, but we just never got around to it.”

Bobby remembers the call with the baby in the pipe, the stolen firetruck and Buck’s insistence that he needed the job, the way he kept asking about insurance. Back then, it never fully made sense, but somehow this explanation isn’t much better.

Eddie clears his throat and quietly adds: “You don’t legally have to declare marital status to your employer, so we lied so we could work together.”

“HR will throw a fit when they find out, you know there are regulations in place for that for a reason,” Hen says, as if Eddie doesn’t realize that.

“I know,” Eddie says, voice small.

“We’re already under the loop after the bank robbery,” Bobby adds. “There might be serious repercussions for this. You two could loose your jobs.”

Miserably, Eddie again says: “I know.”

“What were you thinking? Why would you do that? Why would you make Buck do that? You know how he is, how far he’ll go for others. You already have him taking care of your child and now you have him lying and to his own family too? Do you have any idea what that can do to a person?” Maddie hisses angrily, her own feelings about Daniel coloring her words, though no one but her knows. Hypocrisy is another Buckley trait.

She doesn’t let Eddie respond to the verbal sucker punch, instead muttering: “I need to clear my head,” and storming off.

Chimney shoots him a ‘what the fuck is your problem’-look, then hurries after her.

Then it’s only him, Hen and Bobby. The numbness is now out of reach and he is forced to feel the gaping wound in his chest. The fear, the shame, the loneliness, the smallness. Everything. It’s a horrible feeling and he doesn’t know what to do with himself.

After a few counts, Bobby clears his throat, then says: “I need to call the department, get ahead of this, before it can implode.” It’s probably not meant as a reprimand, but Eddie can feel every speck of disappointment, all the ways in which he is making yet another life more difficult.

“I’m going to get everyone some coffee,” Hen says, her voice strange. She likely wants to get away from Eddie as soon as possible too, before he drags her down with him like he’s done with so many others already.

All alone, he stumbles out of the emergency room, letting the cool air of the night wash over him as he takes a deep breath.

Then he slides down the wall, sitting on the ground and pulling his knees up to his chest, head buried between his knees. He shouldn’t cry, not when he ruined it all himself. But Buck is still in surgery, it can still go wrong. And on top of it all, he still has to tell Chris

~~

A/N:

AHHHHH, this is very exciting. This whole fic spawned, because I wanted to write that waiting room fight and I was just ‘hm, how would I get there?’ and now, a 129k words later, here we are xp

Btw can you imagine being Maddie right now? With the info she has??? Like, she knows Eddie is married to a man, she knows no one knows, she knows Buck has a crush on Eddie, but has been discouraging it, because, hey, Eddie is married to a man and no one, including Buck, knows that, only to learn that Eddie is married to Buck. That Buck has a crush on his own fucking husband? In the middle of the hospital too. Wild.

Also also, yay everyone knows! Now it’s just a waiting game of how long it takes idiot 1 and idiot 2 to figure their shit out lmao

Sidenote: you can be an amputee and a firefighter, but I feel like they wouldn’t have known that

[mugloversonly]

Silver over Gold

Ch 3: Kintsugi - Final

Ch.1 Ch.2 AO3

Summary:

Steve and Eddie finally talk.

Steve stood outside Eddie’s door horrified by what he heard on the other side. Eddie was sobbing and his inner omega was whining weakly. “Eddie? Baby can I come in?” He pleaded.

“Alpha?” Eddie cried softly. “Door’s locked.” His voice was fading into a whisper. “I’m sorry alpha.”

Steve didn’t think twice about ripping the door of the hinges; he'd fix it later, he just hoped Wayne would understand. His omega needed him and his alpha would stop at nothing to help him (for once he was in total agreement). The smashing of the door echoed through the whole trailer but Eddie didn’t seem to notice. He was curled up on his side in the corner of the room with his head tucked against his knees, shaking violently. Steve rushed over to him and gently swept his hair out of his face. He gasped when he saw his beautiful omega. “Oh, Eddie.” He whispered. He was paler than usual, practically translucent. His lively chocolate eyes were red rimmed and puffy, empty as they stared up at him. Steve wasn’t even sure if Eddie could see him right now.

“I’m sorry alpha.” Eddie whispered. Steve stared at him hoping for some awareness in his eyes but there still wasn’t anything. He must be speaking unconsciously.

“Sh,” Steve cooed. “I’m right here, omega. Your alpha is right here. I'm not going anywhere.” He ran his hands up and down Eddie’s arms and kissed him on the forehead. His skin was freezing to the touch and if Steve didn’t know better he’d think he just came out of Lover’s Lake.

He took him into his arms, laid them back in Eddie’s nest, and removed their shirts for skin contact, pulling the blanket over them for good measure . Steve made sure to hold the omega’s nose directly onto his scent gland. He didn’t know much about rejection sickness, but from what he learned in school one way to cure it was through comforting touch and scents. Eddie barely moved and didn’t acknowledge Steve at all. Steve was having a hard time staying calm but the whines and howling of his omega were helping him to stay focused.

H is shivering finally subsided and Eddie fell into a light haze. He pulled back from Steve and his eyes were a bit clearer. “Stevie?” He asked. At Steve’s nod he threw himself back. He didn’t deserve to be held like this. He was a bad omega. His alpha didn’t love him and it was all his fault. Steve didn’t let him get far before he was yanking him right back in. He ran his fingers through his tangled hair and nuzzled his neck. “I’m sorry Steve. I should’ ve trusted you . I'm a bad omega.” He sobbed but Steve clapped a hand over his mouth.

“You're not a bad omega Eddie. You're my omega.” Steve said. He felt more than heard Eddie’s gasp and watched as his wet eyes widened. He reached up and pulled Steve’s hand off his mouth.

“I’m still your omega?” He whispered hopeful yet terrified.

“Yes, darling.” Steve replied caressing his cheek. Eddie put his hand over Steve’s and held it there.

“You still want to be my alpha? After everything I put you through?” Steve looked deep into Eddie’s eyes and kissed him on the nose.

“You didn’t put me through anything. I will always be your alpha. Even if you decided you wanted nothing to do with me, I will be here waiting. There is nothing you could do that would drive me away. I will never leave you.” He promised. “Let me apologize now.”

“No, Steve you don’t owe me anything.” Eddie said clutching his shirt. “I was the one in the wrong.”

“No you weren’t. I was scared. I didn’t stop to consider that I was stringing you along.” He bowed his head as tears finally spilled over. “I love you, Eddie. I never want you to doubt that. I’m sorry I didn’t say it sooner. And I’m sorry the first time I said it was in an argument.” He grabbed Eddie’s face and tilted it until their lips were barely a millimeter apart. “I would never lie to you. I know why you would think that. Wayne told me. Just know, that the most important person in my life, is right here in my arms. Okay?”

“Except Robin?” He knew it was shitty, but he needed to know.

“No my lovely omega. Even more important than Robin.” He kissed him then. A quick press of lips, there and gone in mere moments. “Robin is my best friend and I won’t stop loving her or change how she and I are with each other. But you’re my future mate, and nothing is more important than you feeling secure in us.” Eddie surged forward and kissed him hard practically shoving his tongue down his throat.

“I don’t want you to stop being friends with Robin or anything like that, Stevie. It’s just…” Eddie knew he had to let Steve hear some of this from him. “The pups constantly tell me how you two were made for each other and how it’s only a matter of time for you two to mate.” Eddie looked down. “I guess, with you wanting to keep it a secret and when I ask about courting you brush it off, mix that with Dustin asking me to find out if you’re secretly dating Robin and I thought it was only a matter of time before you stopped what we had and went with her. And when I saw you two together, I thought it finally happened and you didn’t even have the decency to tell me first.” His voice broke on that last word.

“Wait a second...the pups have been saying what?!” Steve yelled out startling the omega and causing him to whimper. “Sorry.” He took a few calming breaths before asking again. “The pups have been telling you that Robin and I are secretly together?”

“Basically.” Eddie admitted.

“No wonder you didn’t believe me.” Steve scoffed. “Don’t worry my love I’ll set the record straight as soon as I can.” He snuggled Eddie closer and kissed his hair.

“You don’t have to do anything you’re uncomfortable with Steve. Not for my sake.” He understood that it may be hard for Steve since he had only dated female omegas before. But his alpha just rolled his eyes.

“I’ll put an ad in the newspaper try me.” He laughed. “It’ll say something like: I, Steven Anthony Harrington am courting and plan to mate with the beautiful” he leaned over and nuzzled against Eddie’s scent gland causing the omega to giggle. “Wonderful, remarkable, one of a kind, Edward Wayne Munson.” He nipped lightly at his neck. “I will don’t tempt me.”

Light finally returned to Eddie’s eyes. “Thank you.” He whispered. Steve knew he was thanking him for much more but Steve didn’t want him to feel grateful that Steve treated him like a worthy partner.

“No thanks necessary. I’m not going to hide any more okay? In fact, close your eyes.” he said. When Eddie did so, he reached into his pocket to pull something out that he fastened around Eddie’s pale throat and kissed him softly. “Open.”

Eddie opened his eyes and gasped. It was the most unique courting gift he’d ever received. Pure silver because he mentioned to Steve once that it was his favorite precious metal. The pendant was a perfect copy of his warlock with small rubies creating the red lightening. As he took a closer look, he realized the neck of the guitar was actually Steve’s nail bat. It was the perfect combination of them.

His chest no longer felt tight and his nose tickled as his blood orange scent began pouring out of his scent gland. It was faint, but it was there. Steve beamed and pushed his nose to the source and took a big inhale. “Thank you, Alpha. I accept your request to court.” Eddie said in the traditional manner. He pulled away. “I’ll give you something I scented in return once it gets back to normal.” Eddie promised. Steve nodded and pulled him into another kiss. This one was more heated and while Eddie did feel better and the sickness was receding, he wasn’t ready to go very far. He leaned back slightly but stayed close so the alpha knew he was okay. “Is it alright, if we take it slow?” He couldn’t meet his eyes.

“Whatever you need.” Steve said tilting his head up. “What ever you want. It’s yours.” He said more like an oath than a promise.

“I threw away your yellow sweater. I’m sorry. I know it was your favorite.” He admitted ashamed. Steve slid away and for a second Eddie thought he was leaving, but before he could let out a single noise of protest he was getting hit in the face with soft cotton. In his hands was the best thing he'd ever seen.

“Wayne said he saw you throw it away and figured you were just upset.” Eddie smiled.

“He knows me so well.”

“I’d hope so, he is your dad and all.” Steve said. “Speaking of, I’d like to formally ask him to court you. I know you already said yes, but it’s traditional to ask an omega’s parent.” Eddie beamed.

“You really do love me, don’t you?” He asked.

“I do. I love you so much. I want to court you and mate with you. I want to see you round with my pups.” Steve replied and laid down pulling Eddie with him. “I want us to smell like one another so there’s no mistaking who we belong to.”

“How long have you had this necklace by the way?” Eddie asked the pendant clutched in his hand.

“Since right after spring break.” He admitted. At Eddie’s raised eyebrows he sheepishly said “I told you, I’ve wanted to court you for a long time.”

The two talked a bit more about their insecurities and about Eddie’s past trauma with alphas. When the alpha that hurt him came up again, Steve growled. “Give me a name.” The fire in his eyes would have scared Eddie if it was directed at him. But at the moment, it may have made him a bit slick. He’d never had an alpha want to protect him like this.

“If I tell you, can you promise you won’t do anything crazy?” Eddie asked.

“No.” Steve said. “I promised no lies.” He defended at Eddie’s snort.

“You did, you did. Okay, just promise you’ll be careful.” Steve agreed to that and motioned for Eddie to continue. “It was Tommy Hagan my first senior year.” He admitted. The scent of burning woods filled the his nostrils.

“When?” Steve growled. Had he still been friends with Tommy?

“We started courting in August. The heat we spent together was in November.”

“You were the omega he couldn’t shut up about?” Steve asked. Eddie shrugged.

“I guess. Weird that he couldn’t shut up about me when he cheated on me with Carol.” Eddie said meekly. The faint blood orange Eddie was finally emitting was turning sour and he was trying to pump out calming omega pheromones to calm Steve, but it didn’t seem to be working well due to the dull nature of it.

“Sorry, sorry.” Steve said as he willed himself to calm down. “It’s not important right now.” He stood and pulled Eddie to his feet.

“What is important is getting you checked out by a doctor. Let’s let Wayne know and we can go okay?” Steve asked. Eddie nodded and the two got dressed with some difficulty since they refused to let go of each other. Steve wore his yellow sweater so it would smell like him again and Eddie pulled on his favorite band tee. On their way out of the trailer they wrote a note for Wayne and Steve walked Eddie to the passenger side. He opened the door and kept a firm hand in Eddie’s until he was seated. Eddie watched on amused as Steve practically sprinted around the car so they could spend the least amount apart as possible.

~ ~~

At the hospital, the Doctor that saw him last time was able to see him again. “Eddie, this one could have killed you if your alpha hadn’t come when he did. To help you get back on your feet it’ll be good for the two of you to spend the next 48 to 72 hours together. Now for cases like yours we have a new type of medication that can stop rejection sickness from getting worse once it starts. I’m giving you a prescription for that. And I want you to go back to taking the preventive ones for a while.” He looked between the two men knowingly. “I’d say until you’ve mated. After that, you should be okay to stop them. But, keep the emergency one on you at all times. It could be the difference between life and death.” He said before leaving them with a nurse. She gave Eddie some fluids in an IV that were supposed to help him return to normal and then they were on their way.

“So, what now?” Eddie asked. Steve took his hand again.

“Let me take you out on the town? Then we can go back to the trailer and cuddle?” He asked. Eddie blushed and his blood orange scent finally filled the car in full force.

"I'd like that."

@v3lv3tf0x @lexirosewrites Final part!

That's a wrap on this one. But I do have plans to write some Robin POV and what Steve does the next time he sees Tommy.

[kasparovv]

very sketchy illustration for the latest chapter of my bipper thing

[royaltea000]

I call this Theseus’ character - how many visuals do I have to change on a character until it’s just an oc

[ogachukwu-the-freak]

QUIET PART OUT LOUD QUIET PART OUT LOUD QUIET PART OUT LOUD

Validating to actually experience this utter shitfuck take with my own two eyes, add it to the list. Someone @ rainystudios or one of their mutuals so if they want they can add this one to the archives cause this is literally exactly what they had been talking about.

[serickswrites]

Deflect

Warnings: implied captivity, implied torture, implied restraints, rescue, hospital, referenced temporary character death, hurt/aftermath, hurt/comfort, hurt/recovery

"Whumpee, can we talk?" Caretaker said as they stood in Whumpee's hospital room door.

"What's there to talk about? I'm fine," Whumpee said quickly. The truth was they were very much not fine. Everything hurt. They couldn't move very much without being exhausted. And they still had a hard time breathing.

The doctors had reassured them that would fade. That they would feel more themself soon. But still, Whumpee wasn't sure how long that would take. And what the lasting impact would be from what Whumper did besides the scars from various acts and from being tied up with coarse rope for so long.

"Whumpee, you were dead when I found you. Actually dead," Caretaker shouted. "I did CPR for I don't even know how long. I thought...." Caretaker's voice caught.

"That I was really dead," Whumpee supplied for Caretaker. "But I wasn't. You kept my blood pumping long enough for help to arrive. And they get my heart going again. And now I'm ok."

"Whumpee, you died again in surgery. And then you were in a coma for so long. Whumpee, I....I nearly lost you. And you're acting like it is nothing!" Caretaker's eyes flashed with anger. Though they had been crying, Whumpee could see the anger boiling beneath the surface. Caretaker was angry. Not at Whumpee, but for Whumpee.

"What do you want me to say, Caretaker? That I thought I was going to die? That I didn't hold out long enough? That you were going to find what was left of my corpse and I was going to be the reason why you break? No? Or how about how every time I close my eyes I see what Whumper did. I see Whumper every time I close my eyes and I can't escape. I can't escape anything."

Whumpee's chest was heaving and they were sobbing. They had tried to keep this all in. Tried to not feel. Without a word, Caretaker came forward and threw their arms around Whumpee. The two of them held each other as they cried.

Whumpee was alive. Whumpee was safe. They hadn't died. And Caretaker had them now.

Tags: @mousepaw @jumpywhumpywriter @knightinbatteredarmor @hufflepuffwritingstuff2 @anightmarishwhump

@steh-lar-uh-nuhs @celestialsoyeon @st0rmm @ay5ksal @pedro-pedro-pedro-pedro-pe

@artisticdemon

[battle-subway-ghost]

yeah cause who else has long fuck off white hair

I'm quite literally sure I've seen at least one other person on this website alone with "Long fuck off white hair" anon??? There's definitely more people with long white hair. Even in Alola.

(They were in Paldea I'm not accusing them of being a murderer. but still, my point stands.)

[regular-whump-sfx]

Whumptober Day 19: Loss of Identity

Being an amnesiac, Salman struggles a lot with his identity, or maybe lack thereof. A sacrificial lamb, a cursed monster, or another family's long-lost memory? Those stick out the most to Salman, and that scares him.

[whumpitisthen]

Blasphemy

Previous I Masterlist I Next

7.4k words....... my brain is mush but i wanted to finish this so badly so here it is!! i need to stop looking at it, you look at it now i dont want it >:( CWs: blood, referenced torture, broken bones, unconsciousness, self-esteem issues, crying, begging, self-sacrifice, bleeding out, religious themes, angel whumpee, nonhuman whumpee, multiple whumpees, nonhuman/vampire/deity whumper, bad caretaker, carewhumper, slavery mention, death, psychological whump, emotional whump, power dynamics, Grim's inability to be normal about his little guys, Auden's inability to be normal about anything, nudity (nonsexual)

Don't panic. Don't panic. Don't panic.

Of course he panicked.

How could he not? He just watched someone slowly bleed out in front of him, now lying in a pool of their own blood on the floor, motionless and gone, — and right before they pass out, all they ask of him is not to panic? What kind of request is that!

He told them to stop, he told them to take a break; why would they not listen? He doesn't need to be a healer to know that blood needs to stay inside a body, mortal or not. Blood means pain, blood means danger, blood means something is wrong. Blood covers every single inch of the floor.

Are they dead? He doesn't know, he doesn't know! They stopped moving, they fell to the ground like a corpse. They look dead, with the darkness under their eyes, and the sickly cold paleness that took hold of their skin. He should know, should be able to tell, he's an angel, how could he not know if a mortal is dead or not?

He has never needed to know. Healing is not a Guardian’s job, it's the sign of a Guardian’s failure. A Guardian protects, a Guardian shields, a Guardian prevents hurt before it could even occur. If their Dependant needs healing, that means they have failed in their duty.

He cannot have let this happen to them. He cannot have failed again. He cannot have failed them again.

All he knows to do is what feels right. The way he scrambles out of the bathtub is akin to a wild thing. He slips onto his knees, cradling Mori's unconscious body, barely feeling the wet tiles under his bony limbs. He holds them close, calling to them, shaking them gently.

They are cold, but mortals are only cold when their bodies die. He looks around frantically. A towel of some sort, large, folded neatly on a dresser near him. He leans over to tear the one he can reach out of the tower, not caring about all the rest falling to the floor after it. He drapes it over the both of them, hoping to achieve some sort of tent to trap the heat under.

Mori doesn't stir. No matter how much he warms them, no matter how many times he calls their name, no matter how much he begs them to remain alive; they show no aspiration to live. He grabs another towel and wraps it around their head, trying to stall the bleeding of their broken antler. That must be key; blood is finite, he has to stop it.

He isn't sure if mortals feel pain in their sleep, so he works carefully around the wound, putting far too little pressure onto it to cease the flow. The towel just keeps languidly swallowing up their blood, but it has to help, it must be better than nothing. Maybe if he holds them closer, if he cleans off all the crimson from their face. He wipes away the curtain of blood from their forehead and eye. He fixes their hair — it was a little dishevelled, but they kept it out of their eyes, carding through it habitually any time they got nervous.

There, they look a little better. That must have helped.

It has to help.

Please, please help.

They aren't moving. He holds them a little closer, shakes them, pleads with them. No response. The tent of towels and black wings aren't warming them at all. The blood still oozes.

He doesn't know what to do; he doesn't know how to help!

They need help.

He shouldn't…

‘They will die if you don't, and it will be all your fault.’

The only healer he knows of here is the Doctor, but he doesn't know how to contact it. He has seen absolutely nobody else in this silent mansion of endless corridors, and he fears leaving Mori's side for even a moment to go look. He wants to help them, but he needs help to do that.

So, in his weeping desperation, he calls to the one person he knows will answer.

Tears of worry pooling in his eyes, scared and helpless like a child, he wails for the Reaper.

Mori told him not to yell when they first met. He hadn't understood yet just how dangerous it could be to draw attention to himself. He was scared, just as scared as he is now, and now here he is, yelling again, listening to his own voice echo back at him, waiting for Death to arrive. This time, he makes noise on purpose, with purpose, and that only scares him more, because then if things go wrong, it won't be an accident anymore. He chose to do this all on his own.

He needs to, he has to. The Reaper has to understand. Mori will understand.

Even if they don't, at least they will still be alive to be angry at him for it.

The Reaper isn't here yet, and Auden tries his best to be patient. He counts the seconds, managing to make it past sixty, up till seventy. At around seventy-two he touches the towel wrapped around Mori's antler. It's heavy with blood.

He decides to try calling again.

It takes him another minute to psych himself up to raise his voice again and scream, his lungs filled with a convoluted mess of desperation to save Mori no matter the cost. The knowledge that he is demanding a deity to hurry up and answer him — his Lord would have erased him just for thinking he was entitled to His time.

But the Reaper isn't his Lord. Calling him a deity feels like sacrilege in itself, but Auden doesn't know what else to refer to him as. Anything lower seems unfitting, but he will absolutely not for even a moment think them coequal in status, power, or any other metric. He is powerful, and terrifying, and vicious and cruel, a force, necessary, but the angel only sees a twisted sanctuary every time he thinks of him. He is all those terrible things, and he saved him. He has to save Mori.

Auden fidgets under Mori. He rustles his wings. Tries to swallow the growing lump in his throat. The quiet fills with the gentle sound of rain droplets landing against the windows. Three large windows, with a double cross of thin black iron running up it to end in a pointed top elegantly. Should he open the window, let in some fresh air? No, it must be cold outside, Mori would get even colder. He holds them a little closer.

Where is he? Last time it barely took a minute for the Reaper to show up, popping up out of thin air like he never even left. It has to have been at least ten minutes, maybe twenty. An hour. A long time. He keeps having to reorder his black-blue legs under him, going numb on his knees with the extra weight.

He shudders out a breath that sounds suspiciously close to a sob, getting dizzy with how much he cranes his head from wall to wall, hoping to catch his black-cloaked saviour leaning up against it. Why is the Reaper not showing? He has to be coming. He looks down at Mori, sniffling. Whines pull at the corners of his lips, wobbling his chin.

Auden yells again, as loud as he can. The end of his cry wanes off into a miserable sound, muffled into Mori's hair.

Maybe he misunderstood. Maybe it wasn't the noise that had caught the Reaper's attention before. Maybe he is just so far away that he cannot hear. Maybe he heard and he doesn't care. Maybe he isn't coming at all. Lord, he isn't coming at all, is he?

Auden is all on his own, and Mori will die, or they are already dead, because Auden is a useless, winged fraud. Just a weak, pathetic nobody, getting people hurt and making fake promises. Mori died because of him. They died because he couldn't do as he was told.

“I am sorry. I am so, so sorry, Mori, I'm sorry,” — he blubbers through his tears. If he wasn't holding them as he does, he would draw blood with how deep he wants to dig his overgrown nails into his palm.

He wonders if Mori's soul can feel the force of his sobs through his chest. If it can hear his pitiful apologies. His ridiculous weeping.

He is so preoccupied with his self-loathing that he fails to notice the change. The candles giving a gentle, warm light flicker with an inexplicable gust of wind. The air cools and thickens with dread, filling his throat with a wicked black fog. The feeling of being watched is ignored. The suffocating terror starting up inside him is not much different than his grief. Past the curtain of his half-washed hair, a pair of heavy boots appear. A cloak of darkness. The smell of rot follows.

Then, a dark, haunting voice.

“Peril finds you good company, doesn't she?”

Auden jerks at the Reaper's insincere lamentation, his gasp loud in the otherwise silent room. His crying quiets immediately, frozen in his throat. He can't decide if he should be relieved or even more scared upon finding the Grim Reaper had heard him. He brought with him his deadly scythe and cloak of shadows. Auden cannot see under the canine skull, and it makes him nervous that he doesn't know what kind of expression it hides. Was that a tone of disappointment or indifference? Boredom? What if he is angry? Angry at him for yelling, for not doing as he said, for letting Mori die; oh, he must be angry…

His mouth opens and closes, suddenly dry of all sound. His eyes switch wildly between the deity and his maybe-dead companion, eventually filling with new tears and looking up pleadingly at his saviour, hoping for a little more mercy. — “I-I’m sorry, I yelled, I sh-shouldn’t, I know, but I-I-I didn't, I didn't know what else to do ah-and — Help, please help them, please help, I-I do not, I do not kn — I am not a healer, please don't let them die like this, I beg you, I beg you…”

The plea is soft, a quiet prayer. He is begging earnestly, deeply and perplexingly distraught at the misfortune of someone he hasn't even known for a day. His grief is raw and true. Kneeling in a pool of blood like this, weeping unendingly, painting the fawn with his sorrow, holding onto the tortured soul in his arms like they are the most precious treasure he has ever known — Grim finds it all such a pleasant surprise to come back to. Far more interesting than whatever the Hell those mortals were bumbling on about at the parley.

He expected Mori to have passed out, naturally; that part doesn't surprise him. But the angel… oh, this angel is surpassing all of his expectations. He is terrified for them, holding their unconscious body as if they will disappear if he lets go. And this beautiful red sheen across the floor, wall to wall; the overwhelming flavor of Mori's blood dancing in the air…

His footfalls remain measured as he approaches the two. He considers them silently, letting the pause eat at the angel, making up his mind on where to go from here. Finally, he sighs.

“The irony of calling me of all people here to save your friend cannot be lost on you,” — the Reaper says as he removes his mask, casually untensing every muscle that was primed to roll heads upon arriving at the angel’s desperate call, — “whatever made you think I would help them? Do you know me to be so merciful?”

The angel seems a little crestfallen at that, a little confused. Can't the Reaper see the person dying in his arms? Why would he not help? He has to help! — “Th — Mori, did — They need help…”

“Do they deserve help?”

“Yes!” — the Fallen cries, manic in his own uselessness, — “they, they did it right. They said you, you told them to help me, and they did, they kept going until they fell, even though I told them not to, and, a-and now you won't help them?”

Death tilts his head at him, brows raised and eyes laying him bare. A look of faux-confusion, like Auden is not making any sense, as well as something a little dangerous underneath peeking through at Auden's last words. — “They did not do it right. They have failed.” — He gestures at their unconscious body, still slowly oozing blood onto the floor, a puddle having been made to halo their head. — “I asked them to feed you, bathe you and get you ready for your new master. You are soaking wet and naked, distressed, kneeling in filth on the floor. Nowhere near ready. They have failed in their task.”

He isn't angry with them; there is no fury in his voice. He is stating this like it's a fact that they deserve to die for not meeting his impossible standards. The chilling conviction in him stalls the angel’s breath.

‘Convince him. Try to convince your saviour that he is wrong. Beg for his favour. He is testing your faith.’

His bare shoulders jerk, the sudden weight of the persistent voice landing on them like a pair of heavy hands, guiding him further into desperation. Grim narrows his eyes.

Any other angel would have taken the straight refusal of help and backed down, bowing their head and apologising for asking for something so untoward. Angels do not argue. They do not plead; they pray and hope, and if their wishes aren't granted, then it is the will of God, and so there must be good reason for it. It's part of their culture, something that most of them do not even notice about themselves as strange or naïve. It's just how they operate in Heaven, and only once removed from their palace of ignorance do they start understanding all the intricate little ways in which they are taught to obey and never question much of anything.

Auden never found this particular skill to be so self-evident or natural to weave. Even if he did, his Guardian nature will not allow him to let go so easily when Mori could very well die in his arms any moment, and it's on him to try to plead with the Reaper to save them. —“Please. They do not deserve this. It, it isn't fair.”

The Reaper smiles. It's an empty smile that doesn't reach past his lips. — “Is that so?” — Pretending to be in deep thought, Grim hums, then leans down as if to whisper to the angel about something forbidden, the blade of his heavy scythe floating above him like a crescent moon as his hands move to cross at the small of his back. — “Is it fair, up there?”

The angel pauses, swallowing. — “Whu — What?”

“Was it fair when they deemed you a sinner? When you were cast out? When you landed; burnt, bruised, defenceless on the earth as a mortal? Was it fair?”

His eyes widen. Auden remembers when it all fell apart. He remembers vividly every pair of eyes that turned hateful, the friends he lost, the time he spent praying, begging for another chance. He thought he was invincible back then. He thought that as an angel, a Guardian, no matter how weak or clumsy he was, as long as he kept his faith close, there would be nothing more he could want. He worried about such insignificant things, spending days with worry etched between his brows because of an off-handed comment someone more capable than him made, trying so pathetically to prove himself to people who couldn't care less about him.

He was trying so desperately to fit in, while failing to follow the most simple of instructions given to him by his Seraph.

He thought he knew better. When he was told his human no longer deserved protection, he thought there must have been a mistake. When he kept watching over them despite clear orders, he thought he was doing the right thing. When his human got into trouble, real trouble, and he had to help, he had to, but there was no way to do it lawfully, not without breaking the most unbreakable of rules; — when he locked eyes with his human for the first time like he always dreamed he could, when he saw recognition in theirs… He was arrogant, selfish, unfit to be a holy servant. He was told as much when his sins were tallied by the cold voice of the Council during the ceremony of his banishment.

He wonders if he could visit his human sometime now that he is stuck here. He hopes they are safe. He hopes they don't remember him at all, but he wonders sometimes, — if they do remember him, do they think of him often?

Maybe he shouldn't visit them anyway. He would much rather they keep the image of who he was back then instead of who he is now.

“It w-was…” — His head droops. He tries to consider the Reaper's question, but the more he thinks about it, the more it confuses him. He huffs frustratedly. It should be the easiest answer to give. His Lord is fair and just. Every angel lives by strict rules, orders, responsibilities. His punishment was fair. He takes it to be another failing of his own; just how much it hurts to believe this. — “…It doesn't matter if, if it was. Mori doesn't deserve this.”

‘Your crime was not sin. It, too, was inadequacy. Failure. You were not malicious. You were weak.’

He may have been weak, but Mori isn't. They are stronger than he ever was.

‘They failed their Master like you failed yours.’

That's different, the Lord is not Auden's master — Mori wasn't made to obey —

‘Were they not? They told you what they are. A slave from birth. Made to serve.’

“Mori doesn't deserve any of this, they, they — “

‘They are hellspawn. They deserve everything they are given.’

“They don't! — he nearly shouts, overwhelmed and manic with grief, trying to drain out the malevolent voice inside his head. — “They did everything as well as they possibly could, they made no mistakes, they were kind and brave and helpful and they for-forgave me, even after, after I messed up, over and over again! Just, if,“ — his voice breaks in preparation for what he is about to ask for, — “if they deserve punishment, let me take it! If they failed, it was because of me, and I will, I will take it, no matter what it is. I won't let them — please don't punish them for my mistakes.”

The Reaper's expression hardly changes in reaction to Auden's outburst. The angel's choppy babbling doesn't really phase him, though the corner of Grim's mouth catches on that almost threat; — ‘I won't let them.’ As if the angel had any power over what happens next. The thought is amusing.

It's hilarious how little he knows of pain. He would not be so eager to take it otherwise.

Grim's polite smile quickly vanishes, eyes narrowed to slits. Leaning back in a slow, assertive manner, he straightens his spine to stand tall once more, looking down upon Auden like a judge. His head is haloed by the light of the chandelier behind him, casting an intimidating shadow over the both of them. — “I am not deaf, angel. If I wished to hear your shrill screeching, believe me, I would have plenty of ways to drag it out of you.”

The angel's mouth snaps shut instantly. This sudden change in the deity's tone freezes him to his core. The way he fights himself to speak so he may apologise reminds Grim of a fish out of water, mouth agape and gasping. — “I-I didn't… I am sorry, I didn't realise I was —”

“No, you did not. Perception eludes you like oil does water.”

It's that little righteous incredulity that crawls its way into his tone. That disappointment, but a lack of expectation to begin with, that sears Auden's heart like venom. It's a familiar pain, and so he does what he has learned to do all those other times he felt this same shame — he bows his head and remains silent, letting the self-loathing eat up any stray thoughts that could distract him from his shame.

Truthfully, Grim is not so angry. Maybe a little, — after all, this is the second time he has come to the angel's rescue, only to find him perfectly fine — but it does irk him, this… shadow, behind every word he says. Something bothers him, clearly. Whatever it is, it muffles his true thoughts, distracts him, diverts his attention; and well, Grim has never been very good at sharing with others. He wants to rip open that silly skull and pick at his brain until he finds what he is looking for.

The angel shivers under his gaze. In allowing Auden a moment to steep in his misery, he also allows for the mouthwatering aroma of Mori's spillt blood to overwhelm his focus. With the crimson smeared so thoroughly in this small room, the smell of it is near impossible to ignore. In the angel's arms, Mori is angled just so, their veins supplying drop after drop of crimson for the floor to collect. The sound of wasted nectar could drive him mad. This lovely scene coupled with the angel's pleasant vanilla-scent, and his beautiful sorrow on display is a perfect cocktail mix for all his senses to drink up.

He inhales deeply. Eternal hunger is a hell of a curse.

Eventually, the angel's sobs quieten. Softness carries Death's next words; — “Were you scared for them?”

Auden nods, sniffling sadly. His only friend, perhaps already dead. It devastates him. He loosens his hold on Mori, breaking under the voice telling him over and over that he is holding onto a corpse.

“You have grown so close to them already… a foolish mistake, but you couldn't have known. You know so little.”

A backhandedly sympathetic assurance that only serves to drive the edge of that searing shame deeper into his chest. The tent he holds sinks as his wings do, pooling the towel around himself and uncovering Mori's cold body. They look so small and defenceless. A sea of scars, old and new. Deep bruises that will never have the chance to heal. Tired eyes that will never open. A shattered wrist and a snapped antler, his own contributions to the collage of their suffering.

He is truly the most pathetic being in all of existence.

In the soft candlelight, Grim watches him unravel with great excitement. Though he says nothing, his lips curl and his eyes light up in amusement. This Fallen is a funny one. A large golden heart hidden beneath the thinnest layers of skin and bone. Naïve. Easy to mold, to trick, to scar. Passionate, even now, during a time most would consider too unbearable to be worth holding on for. And the taste of his sorrow; the sweetness of his tears… Such a darling little lamb.

Though the sound of footfalls were not silent, Auden still flinches from the silver claws entering his vision. Dropped to a crouch, Grim had sat aside his scythe and attempted to lower himself to the angel's level, now reaching for Mori.

Numbly, Auden watches those clawed fingers sink beneath the sticky brown locks of the unconscious servant. They massage tenderly, avoiding cutting into the skin underneath. The closeness has Auden’s skin inadvertently crawling, his already cold flesh chilled even deeper from such proximity to Death. Like this, he finds himself paying that much closer attention to every little detail about his saviour.

The Reaper's skin is truly pale, its hue only surpassed by his snow-white hair. Auden's gaze catches on the small dot right under his left eye — do beings like him have such flaws? Mortals have plenty, birthmarks and such, but Auden has never imagined deities could have such mundane imperfections. His left arm is where the void-black markings on his skin begin — downright monstrous with sickening veins popping out of wicked muscles, fully corrupted by the darkness, a gauntlet of silver claws enunciating its role being a weapon of slaughter. From the tips of the fingers, to the wrist, shoulder, then presumably up the chest and crawling all the way up under his chin, drawing confusing, intricate shapes that remind Auden of an all-consuming hellfire.

The hand carding through Mori's hair is jewelled as opposed to armoured, the markings there more… unnatural. Man-made would be a better term to use. They remind Auden of some of the painted pages of his codices in their pattern, as opposed to the fuller, consuming, almost infectious spread running up his neck. Parallel lines, symbols, some sort of language. They run along each finger, disappearing under shining metal rings, ending in sharp black nails. Auden never noticed before, just how marred the flesh under those rings are. It's like they were welded into him. Deep, sickening scarring that is red around the edges under each iron band.

He wonders just how much influence Hell’s infection has had on the Reaper. As far as he is aware, Death has been a neutral, non-conforming being since the beginning of time. Because his job requires him to be a bridge not only between Heaven and Earth, but Hell and Earth as well, and because of his independent nature, angels have grown further and further from conversing with him, and Auden has only really been taught that the Grim Reaper is a necessary evil, and that it's not his place to be inquiring about things that do not pertain to him. But he has to imagine, with how much of Earth has been swallowed up by demonkind, the balance of things changing must have had some sort of effect on him.

His brain feels like there are a thousand ants crawling all over it. His train of thought halts upon contact with those iron claws, holding his chin to direct his wide eyes toward the Reaper's. The claws are sharp, an ornately carved glove of icy blades. His breath halts completely, and the Reaper grins.

“You are fond of them,” — the Reaper states, jerking Auden's head to lead his gaze back to himself when he tries looking away, — “did you get to know each other well?”

Auden finds it hard to care, right now. Even through his fear-indebtedness-adoration for the deity and Death's cursed aura snuffing out any breath of disobedience with a chilling sense of terror, he just cannot bring himself to respond. His eyes are red and empty and tired, similar to Mori's — their gaze is always alert, fearful, but tired, missing their spark. They hold no flame in them anymore; that is, if they ever did. A wilted rose.

He cannot nod, but the fresh tears and a lovely shudder are enough of a response either way.

Grim tuts sympathetically, feeling a great urge to kiss away those beautiful tears. While it is a mere fact that angels are not exactly made to deal with loss, this one is young and so very tenderhearted. It very nearly breaks his heart to watch the darling dove shatter like this.

It is the angel's most endearing quality; how strongly he feels. It's like all rational thought escapes him as soon as his heart fires up. When he is frustrated or sees some sort of injustice, he forgets himself, and becomes foolishly unafraid. When he is sad, he cannot bear to exist at all, shutting down completely. And Grim does not doubt for a moment that he becomes the most bouncy, passionate, energetic critter when he is happy. It almost makes him curious to see just how much joy can fit into this broken-winged-broken-hearted darling. It clearly doesn't matter who witnesses, if the little thing behaves like this even in front of him, someone he is well and truly afraid of.

“Do not weep,” — he settles on, the soothing murmur coupled with a kind expression, — “It will be okay. It will all be okay. I will make sure of it.”

It isn't a lie, depending on a given day. Somedays, okay means content and safe. On others, it will mean just enough mercy to keep his lungs working so he may live. However, it doesn't matter what it means to the angel. Right now, what he hears is what he needs — supporting words, kind words, caring words. He could forget about the blades at his throat for those, like he has already forgotten the godly being comforting him is the same one that wounded his friend so deep and cruel, then forced them to work themself bloodless and unconscious.

A tear slides down his claw, glimmering tantalisingly as it rolls down like a pearl of glass. It's so perfectly silent. His pointed ears twitch at the sound of the drop splattering on the floor.

He cannot resist lifting a hand soaked in Mori's blood to wipe away the rivulets of sweet sorrow from the angel's red cheeks. Hopefully his tears blind him to the condescending expression on the Reaper's face. — “There there. Come, let me help.”

Wiping, petting, caressing, pinching, ruffling, — his hands do not leave him until Auden starts reacting, once he realises he is being teased, weakly pulling back from all the unwanted, giggling attention. It should really not surprise him at all that Death would find the passing of a mortal so uninteresting, but his stomach still flips at just how unbothered he acts. Mori spoke so reverently of him…

With one last pull on his still slippery hair — the conditioner was never rinsed out, it seems, though the strong yet pleasant smell coming off him in waves should have been a dead giveaway — Grim rescinds. Gently, he takes hold of Auden's wrists, pressing his thumbs flush against his pulse there and massaging. He feels so wonderful. — “Let go of them, angel.”

Belatedly, Auden draws back from Mori's body, letting the Reaper cradle them instead. In the tall deity's arms, they look even smaller. As he stands, Auden finds himself reaching after them, watching Mori's legs swing in the air limply, their body held in a bridal carry. The unshakeable urge to protect eats at him relentlessly. He feels like a dog growling at passerby above its owner's corpse.

“Whe-Where are you take-ing them?” — Auden croaks tiredly, cursed with the after-cry hiccups.

The towel the angel had wrapped around Mori's head falls to the ground with a wet splat. The stump where their antler used to be is still weeping, though much slower, demanding attention from the vampyric deity. He may have gone a little overboard with that one, he ponders, humming himself; —  but really, it's his little fawn’s fault for making the most adorable sounds when he threatened to rip the antler off by grabbing onto it and slowly twisting their head by it. Their ears pulled back, their eyes turned as large as dinner plates, and they trembled, so small, so sweet against the floor, pinned and vulnerable, squirming under their master to escape, but too scared to actually try. They do so well with threats, so proficient in begging for mercy, so perfect soaked in terror.

There is no wolf that could hold its jaw slack around the throat of its prey once its fangs have drawn blood. It is fun for a while; the squirming, the whining, the pleading and crying; — but it is only a matter of time until those jaws slam down and shatter the vermin's spine.

Gently, with so much care, he presses his lips onto the wound, kissing it closed. His fawn’s delectable blood could send him into a frenzy on the best of days, but unfortunately, they might really not survive if he doesn't concentrate, so he makes sure not to lose himself in his violent thirst.

Miraculously, the bleeding stops. Grim purrs, perfectly content as he licks his teeth clean of the divine crimson.

Auden is… mortified. What did Death just do? Does he do that often? It looked like he enjoyed it, and the very thought of taking pleasure in the taste of someone's blood — someone who is dying of a lack of it! — sends a horrid shiver down Auden's spine. Perhaps it's some sort of ritual, for the Reaper to drink the blood of the deceased? That sounds like some sort of demonic ceremony. He called Mori a demon, before… He can't really make up his mind about this, so he just stares at the deity like an idiot, a somewhat questioning-disgusted look on his face.

Auden is so stunned that Grim cannot help the laugh that bubbles out of him. Those big wet eyes are so perplexed at what they were just witness to; he is reminded of a baby seal. — “What is it? You look positively aghast.”

The big grin on his face is tainted with smudges of red. Auden opens his mouth, but he ends up closing it anyway. He blinks, shakes his head. It's nothing, he signals.

To that, there is no response. A moment stretches between the two, listening to the sounds of rain and Auden's hand rubbing at his face. There is blood under his nails.

“Well, to answer your question, since you won't answer mine — I am helping them,” — he states, bouncing them carefully to get a better grip on their body, — “is that not what you wanted? Would you prefer me to leave them here to rot?”

Auden shakes his head vehemently, though his eyes water and his face falls again at the confirmation of his perceived situation. He is going to dispose of the body. — “No, no, I do not want that, I am sorry, I’m, I-I just…”

Grim can see his throat closing up from where he stands. The angel’s sobs are choking him, barely letting him speak. What comes out is a fragile, quivering breath. — “Could… Could you please tell them that, h-how, that, that I am sorry? I, I am sorry that I could not save them? Please. A-And that I nev-ver, ever meant to hurt them? I-I, need them to know this, please…”

Oh, now that is just precious. He is so scared they won't forgive him. It warms Grim’s heart. — “So I am your messenger pigeon now, am I?”

Auden could never live with the thought that Mori died because of him and that they never even heard him apologise. The crushing guilt he feels will kill him if the last thing Mori was allowed to do was clean his body of filth, a slave from birth ‘till death, as they bled out, and Auden could never let them know how much more he thought of them, how in the short time he spent with them, they have entirely changed how he sees the world. Auden wanted to ask them so many things, he wanted to hear them talk and see them smile and help them and protect them, and he cannot keep living if they will never even know how much they meant to him.

It was only a few hours at best. Half of it was spent in terror, pain and confusion. But, Auden cannot help it; — when he sees an innocent, good soul suffer, he would give up everything he can to preserve their life. If Mori deserved half of what was done to them, then Auden deserves a hundred times worse. It's no wonder in his mind that he feels so strongly for them, even after such a short time; to him his duty is clear as day. That must be why he hurts so much, watching Death take them like he would any other perished mortal.

He sounds like he's demanding again, and he is starting to feel like that might be true. His thoughts vacillate. He goes quiet for a moment.

He's already kneeling. What else does he have to lose?

“Angel…” — the Reaper gasps, scandalised by what he sees.

The boy just keeps on thinking of new, outrageous ways to surprise him. He is bowing in front of him, putting his hands together in humble prayer. At his feet, showing obedience and loyalty, he supplicates to someone other than his Lord. He breaks another rule, disobeys another law, because what does it matter to follow divine law when he will never get to gaze upon his Heaven or be grazed by God's holy light again? What does anything matter, all that he does and thinks and finds right, in this upside down world of torment and perdition? Why was he even created, allowed to live, if he cannot even fulfill the one purpose he was made for? He is a failure, through and through, if he truly would rather hold onto dignity and loyalty to something he will never have the opportunity to be part of again — if he ever was — over what truly matters.

The Fallen closes his eyes, hiding from his own act of sacrilege. Behind his eyelids, he sees Mori, scared and alone, stuck inside their body, in darkness, feeling only the frigid touch of Death nearby. The image provides inspiration to continue what he began. — “I ask you, Grim Reaper, you who governs death, who ferries mortal souls to the beyond, to hear me. I need you as much as I fear you, but more than myself, I fear for the blameless soul in your arms, and ask… beg, that you find it in your endless might to allow my message to be heard, before they leave here and never return.”

This is prayer. He is praying to him. The angel has thrown away everything this very moment, broken down and empty, and prays as he would have — should have — done for no one else but his Lord. The rule, one that cannot be broken, of faith above all else, of belief and reverence and worship for nobody but their one true God, a law engraved so deeply into every angel's soul that even after death they cannot help floating towards light, no matter how far they have fallen; — he would betray his divine nature so easily; for a slave of Hell. For a single, inconceivably small speck of dust he barely knows. Absolutely astounding.

He wouldn't dream of cutting short this beautiful show of veneration. He waits patiently until the angel convinces himself to spit out the Amen, sealing the prayer as is customary, and waits longer still to see if he will say anything more. Temptation drives him to keep waiting until the Fallen crawls forward to kiss his feet or start making other desperate offerings of submission in the hopes that he grants his wish. Alas, time is not infinite.

“I think I may have a supposition about what the reason you were cast out may be,” — he crools belatedly,  — “I have to ask, angel; — are you mad?”

He must be, Auden is certain. He hears voices that aren't his own, he cannot understand things that are obvious and clear to anyone but him, he would give up everything for the smallest of rewards and do it all over again if the opportunity arose, he is an outlier and a failure and he is the only angel in existence that would choose to worship a bringer of death over spending all that is left of his life begging the Lord for forgiveness. No sane angel acts like this. No sane angel even thinks of doing this.

It feels impossible to squeeze any sort of a response out of himself. Lacking any other way to proceed, he bows low, all the way to the floor. His forehead touches the cold, sticky layer of Mori's blood below. It surprises even him, how little shame he feels. He doesn't really feel much of anything, unable to see past Mori's teary face in front of him. All he cares about is making sure they know someone will miss them, and remember them.

He is as close as he can physically be without touching the deity. His hair reaches for the toe of Grim's boot. He remembers how similarly Mori bowed before Death when they met, right before their hand was shattered bit by bit. He forces his hands still.

“I cannot tell if you were made too well, or made to fail. Your sense of duty flares so bright, it supersedes your faith. A disloyal angel: how paradoxically peculiar…” — Grim wonders aloud. Despite himself, he is a small bit awestruck at this rather sacrilegious turn of events. An angel that would willingly serve another god — oh, he knew this one would be special, he knew as soon as he had laid eyes on him! His old friend will have plenty to nibble on with this wretched little dove, what with all their mirrorisms. He cannot wait to finally introduce them.

With this, he wonders — what kind of angel would do something like this for someone like Mori? A fierce sense of protection, responsibility and righteousness, enough to rival faith. He does not have to think for long.

“You're a bit small for a Guardian, aren't you?” — he beamed, his tone patronising and wicked. — “A protector of the innocent. Justice is your flesh and self-sacrifice sweetens your veins. Mori is more than a companion to cling to in your darkest time of need, I see now. You chose them as your Dependant. What a brashly unfortunate decision that was.”

It wasn't a decision — he wants to scream those words at Death, for seeing through him so effortlessly, like he knows exactly what goes on in Auden's head. A decision would require conscious thought. It can be abandoned at any point. What he has made is a pact, and while he may have been somewhat conscious of his initial urge to protect, it's become something he cannot let go of, something that drives him crazy every day as long as it lasts, and that haunts him long after it's broken. He cannot help it, he can love no other way.

He wants to scream, but all that makes it out is a sound similar to a miserable choked off sob. The wings on his back are lopsidedly sliding off his back to soak on the floor instead, too exhausted to be kept neatly folded behind him.

The Reaper's laughter is a haunting melody ending in a good-natured sigh. — “Mm, well. I must admit, you have given me a taste of something new. My name is only spoken to pray me away by most. I am so used to ignoring pleas — but one so beautifully spoken I cannot ignore so easily.”

There is a pause, the sound of rain. Then, Death steps closer again, finding grip under the angel's chin with the toe of his blooded boot. He doesn't stop lifting until those gorgeous lavender eyes find his own; wide, frightened, full of life.

They look so alike.

“I will let them know,” — he promises, a fond smile telling of something sinister under his sincerity, — “you need not worry about a thing, little lamb.”

The angel crumbles like a house of cards, gratitude and grief spilling forth from him uncontrollably. Near unresponsive with his pain, he can only nod to show he can hear the Reaper's orders. Finish bathing, dry off, put on some clothes — further teasing about how unangelic it is of him to be bare in front of others so unapologetically — and wait for the Reaper to return.

Backing off, Grim watches the little one reach for the blood-soaked towel to drag close and bury his face in. He keeps the fabric close, reminded of his precarious nakedness so suddenly. He pulls his knees out from under him and up to his chest, shuddering with the force of his weeping, but so quiet, quieter still than Mori’s slowly beating heart.

Sorrow looks beautiful on him. Why else would he have been made this way, to feel so strongly, if not to show off all the beauteous shades of his torment?

The next time Auden lifts his head, he finds himself alone in the crimson bathroom. His cries have died down, his lungs have emptied themselves of anguish, and the Reaper has long disappeared into a black mist, bringing with Mori's body and soul, as if they were never even here to begin with. The water in the tub has gone cold, but he only notices after a couple minutes of numb soaking.

Mori will understand. They will know. The Reaper promised. That is all that matters.

<3

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I Didn’t Mean to Say I Do, but I Do. I Do. 27

Chapter 27 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, Chimney and Maddie are both healing up in the hospital, but Maddie can’t just easily recover from her trauma. Buck is trying to be there, but doesn’t know how, also stewing further in his own guilt. His final solution takes him away from his family.

On AO3.

Ships: Buddie (slow burn), Madney

Warnings: referenced domestic violence, self loathing, injury, kidnapping, referenced minor character death, referenced near death experience

~~~

Chapter 27: No Place to Go

Buck stands outside the hospital unsure what to do now for a good minute, before he fishes his phone out of his pocket. He could call Eddie, but he doubts the man got that much more rest than him, plus it’s definitely past Chris’s bedtime and getting someone to watch him for that short period will be a hassle, so he orders an Uber instead.

He tiredly stumbles towards his front door a while later, vague plans about picking up his Jeep from Maddie’s place tomorrow. Fuck is he glad he doesn’t have work tomorrow, though he is reasonably sure Bobby would have given him off regardless, if he asked. His emotions are all over the place.

When he comes in, he finds Eddie blinking awake on the couch. By the looks of it, he had fallen asleep while waiting for Buck and had been woken up by the front door opening.

Eddie makes a sleepy noise and grabs for his phone, checking it with a little frown. Grumpy with sleep, he asks: “Why didn’t you text me to come get you?”

Instead of answering like a normal person, all the emotions of today catch up with him and the love he has for Eddie is too much in that moment, so he just makes a high pitched blubbering noise, before he starts crying.

Now, Eddie wakes up more, looking alarmed as he quickly makes his way over to Buck. Buck wants to stop crying probably as much as Eddie wants him to stop crying, since he awkwardly hovers around him, but he can’t. He’s just too exhausted and too wrung out. He’s done for today, unable to make a choice or do anything other than cry.

Fortunately, Eddie makes a decision instead, pulling him into a hug, something that has become more common between them since they started working together. Now Buck can cry into his shoulder and that is somehow more relieving.

They stand by the door for what is probably an embarrassing amount of time, but Buck is too out of it to notice.

In the end, Eddie manages to lead him to the couch once he has cried himself out and his tears have run dry. Eddie runs to get him a glass of water. When he hands it to him, Buck says with a hoarse voice: “Thank you, I’m sorry.”

“Ah, none of that,” Eddie chides. “Drink your water and go brush your teeth. You obviously need some sleep.”

Eddie also looks exhausted and there are probably a hundred replies to give to the mother henning, but Buck is too tired, so he just makes a vague grumbling noise, before sipping his water. He’ll figure out something to retort to the treatment tomorrow.

With the water gone, he peels himself off the couch, making his way to the bathroom. However, he gets distracted by Chris’s door on the way there, carefully opening it, so he can look in and watch Chris sleep for a few seconds.

He looks peaceful. Okay.

Buck already knew Chris was okay with him never being in actual danger and speaking to him over the phone cheerfully that morning, but seeing him still helps Buck let go off the last bits of anxiety he was carrying.

Chris is already so big, but he still looks a lot like the three year old Buck fist met, the four year old he first babysat overnight. He spend a lot of that first night watching Chris, scared he’d get hurt if he looked away. He feels that now too, as if Chris might get hurt if he looks away. He knows he can’t sleep on the ground by his door, but the temptation is there.

He doesn’t even notice that Eddie has come up behind him, watching him looking at Chris, until he says: “Chris is okay. He’s safe.”

Buck startles slightly, before looking back at Eddie, giving a bashful smile. “I know that. Logically, I know that, I just…”

“Worry anyway?” Eddie fills in and he nods. “I feel the same way. But that little guy right there is fine and he’s going to be jumping on your bed at an ungodly hour tomorrow if the fight to go to bed instead of waiting up for you was anything to go by, so you better get your rest if you don’t want to be a zombie tomorrow.”

Buck snorts at that, the moment broken and his feelings stopped before they could build more. He gives Chris one last glance, before gingerly closing the door.

The two of them complete the rest of the way in silence, brushing their teeth in tandem, before quietly wishing each other goodnight.

A part of Buck had thought he would have trouble sleeping tonight. He has already napped here and there and the past 24 hours have been terrifying, so it wouldn’t be weird if he kept tossing and turning for a bit. However, that doesn’t happen. He gets in bed and is out like a light.

As predicted, he gets woken by an excitable seven year old after what feels like a blink, but is actually multiple hours of uninterrupted sleep. Usually he’s awake before Chris, but it’s not a rare thing, more like uncommon. It’s usually Eddie, who gets a child launched at him, since he sleeps in when he can.

Despite being a morning person, Buck feels no desire to be awake. He’s been running around since Friday evening and it’s Sunday morning now. He feels like he should be able to sleep in on a Sunday, that’s a normal people thing to desire. So he groans when Chris starts shaking him, grabbing the kid into a big hug as he rolls over while Chris shrieks.

“Papi, you gotta wake up. It’s morning,” Chris whines when he realizes Buck isn’t going to do anything other than hug him like a teddy bear so he can’t continue poking him.

“I don’t know about that, Superman. I think I’m still sleeping,” Buck says, already waking up more and giving up on the fantasy of sleeping in, while pretending to snore loudly, making Chris giggle.

Chris wiggles some more as he says: “I know you’re awake.”

“Hm, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Buck plays at obliviousness, though he loosens his grip slightly, so Chris can wiggle free.

He does so, turning around and catching Buck with his eyes open, victoriously exclaiming: “See, you’re awake!”

Buck closes his eyes immediately, denying it. “No, I’m not. Snork, mimimi. See, totally asleep.”

“Papiiiii,” Chris whines again, shaking Buck’s shoulder to no avail.

They’re broken out of the moment by Eddie’s voice, who says: “If papi doesn’t want to wake up, you should let him sleep, mijo. He’s had a long day yesterday.”

“But, daddy, you said papi would hang out with us today,” Chris pouts, draping himself over Buck as he does.

“I know I did, but he can hang out with us later. I can make us breakfast and you can let papi sleep in, yeah?”

“You’re making breakfast?” Buck asks, slightly disbelieving. He has rolled over to find Eddie also in his pajamas, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed, watching the two of them with a fond look.

“Hey, I can make scrambled eggs, I’ve done that before and they were fine,” Eddie defends himself, his face doing a very similar pout to Chris’s moments ago.

Without his permission, a stab of love and affection for him goes through Buck. He covers it by being a little shit, looking at Chris, who is still on his chest as he asks: “What do you say Chris, do you think daddy can make scrambled eggs?”

Chris pulls a thoughtful face, before a mischievous grin breaks through and he shakes his head a firm no. Eddie, naturally, guffaws in offense at this.

“Well then, should we get up before he burns the house down?” Buck asks.

“Yes,” Chris practically cheers, climbing over Buck to get off the bed, kneeing him in the stomach multiple times. Eddie shows no sympathy when they meet eyes after he gets winded, instead turning up his nose and walking away.

However, Buck isn’t in the dog house entirely, because there is coffee waiting for him when he gets to the kitchen. Still, he can’t help but poke the bear a little more, so he makes them omelets for breakfast. Going off the stink eye Eddie gives him, he knows what Buck is doing.

After breakfast, Buck and Chris play with the Legos. Like usual it doesn’t really look like anything, but Chris has fun sticking the blocks together so Buck doesn’t really mind. Then they work on a homework sheet Chris was struggling with. He already did some with Eddie yesterday, so it’s done pretty soon.

Eddie is capable of making lunch sandwiches, so he does that with Chris, because Chris likes putting on the slices of cheese. While they do that Buck gathers the laundry and puts the first wash on. They should wash their sheets, but that’s too much fucking work right now, so he only changes Chris’s. Eddie is an adult, if he wants clean sheets, he can do it himself.

Then after lunch, he has mollified Chris enough with his presence to make up for not being there yesterday, plus he promised him that they can go to the zoo next weekend. So, he can leave the house to see Maddie and Chimney in the hospital.

Maddie is in Chimney’s room when he gets there, so he sees both of them at the same time. Upon seeing Chimney with his eyes open, he breaks out in a smile. Sure, he saw him yesterday too, but that was only briefly. He was holding his blood inside him uncomfortably recent, so sue him.

“Hey, man, you’re looking good for a nearly dead guy,” he greets cheerfully. Chimney grins right back, flexing mockingly, but Maddie’s smile tightens for a second. Buck makes a mental note not to joke too much about Chimney getting hurt in front of her.

“I hear I got you to thank for my daring rescue, Buckaroo,” Chimney says.

Buck nods. “Yeah, I would say I was just doing my job, but we both know it’s technically more yours.”

“Eh, you get a gold star from me, though I’m not sure you’re handsome enough to be my stand in,” Chimney jokes.

“I’ll make sure not to sign when they ask me to play you in the movie,” Buck rolls his eyes. Then he becomes more genuine. “But really, Chim, it’s good to you. You had me really worried there for a second.”

“You and me both,” Chimney says, more serious than before. A silence falls over the room, all of them slightly uncomfortable. Chimney breaks it, by asking: “One thing is bugging me though. How did you know to come? Why were you there?”

Buck rubs the back of his head sheepishly as he admits: “Neither of you texted. I asked both of you and it was like 7:08 and neither of you told me you were in the car yet, it doesn’t take eight whole minutes to say hello.”

Again it’s quiet for a beat.

Then Maddie says: “You asked Chimney and me to text you and you came to check on us when we were eight minutes late? Eight? Really, Buck? I can’t believe how overprotective you are, I’m an adult, you know. And your older sister.”

Embarrassment flushes through his veins and he feels twelve years old again, getting berated by Maddie about doing something reckless. He scowls slightly and looks away, muttering: “My overprotectiveness saved his life.”

Maddie rears back for a second, then stops, shrinking into herself as she says: “I suppose it did.”

Chimney is looking mighty uncomfortable as his gaze goes from Maddie to Buck then back to Maddie again. To put him out of his misery, Buck suggest: “Look, I just wanted to catch up, see how you were doing. I don’t want to fight. Why don’t we get some coffee, let Chim rest?”

“Oh, yes, of course,” Maddie immediately says, guiltily smoothing Chimney’s hospital blankets down.

“It’s okay,” Chimney tries to assure her, but she untangles herself from his bed anyway.

Buck feels bad about making her feel guilty about getting comfort from Chimney on top of everything else. This hospital visit is already going great, he thinks sarcastically.

In Maddie’s room Chris’s card is on proud display. Instead of making him feel fond like it usually would, it only serves to make Buck feel more guilty, so he looks away. Mistake.

Now he’s meeting Maddie’s eyes. She seems withdrawn, eyes big and filled with sadness. She’s quiet. Not fully there. Not that Buck blames her, she’s been through a lot, but he can’t help but remember how she smiled in Chimney’s room when he first got there. And when she was there yesterday.

He feels awkward and bad, but also desperate to reach out, to get her to smile again. So he tries to put on his best face as he asks: “Are they feeding you properly in here?”

Maddie huffs out a small laugh. “It’s a hospital, Buck, not prison.” Success!

Buck grins at her and says: “Don’t worry, I’ll still break you out if you need me to.”

“That’s very sweet, but I think I’m okay,” she tells him, expression fond yet exasperated. Then her features drop slightly and she wraps her arms around herself in a pseudo-hug. “Besides, I don’t really feel like going home just yet.”

Immediately his heart lurches and he finds himself in an awkward position. He wants to offer his own home, welcome her into the warmth he finds there, so she doesn’t have to return to the place Doug violently took her from. Say fuck it to keeping things hidden, because Maddie is more important than potentially being found out.

Yet at the same time, she’s just been violently taken from her home, is the right move to suddenly introduce her into a whole new side of the family and overwhelm her with that and invite her into a house that is – admittedly – pretty chaotic.

They have a small kid living there and he and Eddie are coming in at all hours of the day, not to mention Carla, a stranger to her, who will be in the house for hours too. Plus, he’d have to make her keep it a secret from a big part of the support system he helped her built. She won’t even be able to invite people.

What was it he said to Eddie? Oh yeah, it was: ‘Let’s face it, we’re in too deep.’

So he doesn’t offer her his own home. He can’t. Instead he says: “You can always go to a hotel for a few days after you’re discharged. Get your feet under you again somewhere else?”

Maddie shakes her head and pulls a face. The last thing she wants is another unfamiliar place. What she really wants is to have her apartment back, untouched by Doug, far away from him and unblemished by her life before LA.

Buck can’t blame her, so he suggests: “Or I can stay over at yours, sleep in the dining room on an air mattress or something. I’m young enough, my back can take it.”

I mean, he slept on a couch for a few weeks when he and Eddie first started co-parenting Chris, he’ll survive the air mattress. Not sure if he’ll survive having to explain to Chris why papi isn’t there for bed time or breakfast, though he can probably swing a few trips under the guise of hanging out with Eddie as a fib to Maddie.

“Maybe I should just move,” is what she says after a moment of thinking about it.

“You can, you totally can,” Buck replies, not wanting to be unsupportive, “but, Maddie, you love that place. And you can’t move when you still need to recover, you need a plan for when you get out of here.”

She looks displeased at that, probably dislikes that Buck is right. He knows how annoying it can be when your sibling is right, so he isn’t even that mad at her reaction, more sympathetic. She sinks into her bed petulantly and crosses her arms: “I don’t want to think about it. Can’t I just stay with you for a few days?”

He hesitates, again going over everything he just hashed out in his brain. Tentatively he says: “I haven’t moved since you got here, I still live at the same place. I don’t think that’s great for you.”

It’s not an entirely lie, which works perfectly for him, Maddie will know if he lies. This is practically the truth; he doesn’t think his current situation is great for her and he hasn’t moved, she just doesn’t realize that he lives in a three bedroom with a child for a roommate instead of a frat house.

“That’s no issue,” Maddie says, perking up. “You need to get out of that frat house at some point, you know. This could be your opportunity. We can look for a place together and you can handle all the moving stuff, then I get to go there when I get discharged.”

A part of Buck seriously considers going along with it, before he remembers how stupid that is. He got into this whole mess in the first place by getting in too deep on a lie, he shouldn’t jump into a new one. He can’t just move out of his house.

The tiny voice at the back of his mind reminds him that that isn’t true. He can divorce Eddie and get his half of the finances, including half of the house. Eddie will need to live smaller, but with child support from Buck, they should be able to work it out in a way that will allow Chris to continue with the school he’s at now and Carla.

No, he thinks, they recently established they weren’t going to divorce over Maddie and it has been implied that even when they do get divorced, they’ll live together until they can easily figure out the next steps in their own time. It’ll be too much of a disruption to suddenly divorce, he can’t do that to Chris. He’s already had to face the truth that Chris will be his priority first, then Maddie.

Besides, it’ll take much longer to get a whole divorce sorted so he could even move out to live with Maddie, than it will take her to recover enough to be discharged. It’s simply impractical.

With that sorted, he makes a grimace and says: “I can’t just get easily out of my current living situation.”

Immediately Maddie takes a deep breath and starts making her case: “It won’t be that much of a hassle, probably a month of rent overlap. If you really can’t swing that, because you’re that irresponsible with money, I could spot you.”

“Oi, I’m not irresponsible with money,” Buck frowns, offended that she’d think that. He has actually been budgeting really well the past few years.

“Buck,” Maddie levels him a look, “you still drive the same Jeep I gave you years ago. And while your clothes are nice, you don’t have a lot and they’re worn. From what I can see, you’re living of your firefighter income, which means you blew through all the money mom and dad gave you. That doesn’t scream responsible.”

Oh, he can see where that confusion comes from. “Okay, so I am living of my firefighter income, but I didn’t blow through the money mom and dad gave me. That money is only for kids who go to college, and guess what, Maddie, I don’t have a degree.”

“What? I was there when they gave you that money, they can’t just take it back,” she frowns.

“Uh, no, yeah, they can. They called me after I left to tell me I had to give it back – only call I got from them, by the way – they had a lawyer and everything with them on the line. So, I just gave it back, didn’t want to deal with that becoming a thing,” Buck shrugs, now feeling slightly embarrassed.

“Then how did you get around that whole time?”

“I worked, Maddie. Don’t you remember all the jobs I told you about? I mean, bartender, farm hand, construction worker? Any of those ringing a bell?”

“But you were in Peru.”

“Yeah, flew there before they called, let me tell you, not great. I had to work for months before I saved enough to fly back to the USA, their currency isn’t worth the same. By the time I made it back they towed the Jeep, it was a hassle to get that thing back, made me blow through the bit of savings I had left. I only had enough in the tank to make it to El Paso, before I had to find a place to work again.”

“Oh my god, I am so sorry, I never even knew. Why didn’t you tell me? I could have helped, send you money or something.” Maddie sounds horrified.

“It’s not a big deal and I wasn’t going to ask you, I didn’t want to get you in trouble. You know how mom and dad can get,” Buck flails a little, trying to wave the whole thing away with a dismissive gesture, he never intended this conversation to go this way. It was supposed to be about Maddie, guess he’s still in the habit of making things about himself.

“It is a big deal,” Maddie insists. “If you’re that tight on money, I can help. I still have some savings and who knows how it will go now that- now that Doug is dead.” Her voice becomes softer, but she pushes forward for his sake. “I can help. We can move in together, I’ll cover most of the rent and you can get out of that frat house.”

“That really isn’t necessary. This isn’t about me right now,” Buck insist as gentle yet forceful as he can. “Come on, Maddie, be honest with yourself. When you got here, you wanted your own place, stand on your own two feet. It wouldn’t be real otherwise, remember? You don’t want this, not really. You can’t keep letting him push you down. You want to be free of him, that’s what you said. You haven’t done anything for him in months, don’t start now.”

Maddie practically deflates, heaving a big sigh as she does. “You’re right,” she admits, though it is obviously reluctant. “I just- The thought of going back there. It’s terrifying. And I hate it, I love that apartment, you know? It’s mine. All mine. I don’t want to lose it.”

“Then you’re not going to lose it,” Buck promises. “I was serious about sleeping on your dining room floor if that is what you need. You’re going to make it through and I’m going to be right there, whatever you need.”

Hell of a promise to make now, that tiny voice speaks up again. Easy to say when the danger is over and you know you don’t have to make the choice between her and your own family. The family that’s not even fully yours, not like Maddie is. Selfish.

He pushes that voice away and hopes the self loathing doesn’t show on his face to much. Despite his earlier thoughts, he does wholeheartedly mean this promise.

“You don’t have to,” Maddie says, tucking her hair behind her ear. “I mean, you have to work and I can’t expect you to babysit me. I would feel like I’m imposing.”

Buck knows her well enough to realize she wants to say yes to his offer, but that she is trying to make herself seem smaller, less obtrusive. It’s the same thing he used to do with their parents, but they never pushed back, they never nudged him to take up space. He’s not going to make their mistake with Maddie.

“Who says you’d be imposing? I haven’t had a good Buckley sleep over in forever,” Buck grins. “I can take that first week off, I’m sure Bobby will let me, just so we can get you settled. Besides, you’ll see, in two weeks you’re going to be totally sick of me and kick me to the curb again.”

“I don’t know,” Maddie is grinning now too, hers more mischievous than his, “maybe I’ll like the opportunity to feed you veggies again too much and I’ll never let you go.”

“Hey! I’ll have you know that I’ve been eating my veggies just fine, don’t you remember I cook now? I bet you that I make even better veggies than you.”

They continue to bicker for the rest of his visit and it’s nice. Familiar. It’s what he hoped the visit would be like and he feels lighter when he leaves the hospital again. He could be here for Maddie again – or more like finally – and that feels good.

Now he just hopes Chris and Eddie feel the same.

~~

A/N:

You know, this is very like me. The Doug arc was supposed to be one chapter, now it’s already three chapters and 20% is Buckley-Diaz fluff, this is why this fic is getting out of hand, but I swear the fluff is highly necessary xp (it’s actually not, hope y’all don’t mind it)