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some-little-infamy · 7 months
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Rare Doesn't Mean Never
(Read on AO3)
Caleb can count on two fingers the number of people he’s trusted enough to travel with alone, just the two of them against the world. One is Nott, a brave soul he’ll count as one of his closest friends for the rest of his life, and the other is the drow wizard standing next to him, Essek Thelyss.
Caleb is no stranger to traveling alone. Honestly, after every significant turning point in his life, it’s the way he imagined spending the remainder of his days. Traveling and making do on his own, with no one to worry about and no one to worry over him. It’s an easy life, a safe life.
But there have been other times when he found himself part of a group. The first being his time with Astrid and Eadwulf. Caleb knows now that their friendship was born of both necessity and shared trauma, but that doesn’t take away from the meaning it held and the way it shaped him during such formative years. Then it was the Mighty Nein, an entire group of unlikely friends that wormed their way into his heart so deeply that there were moments he would’ve - and almost did, on several occasions - die for them.
None of those times hold a candle to what Caleb experiences when he adventures and fights and simply exists alongside Essek. He sleeps easily knowing that their shared protections surround them on the darkest nights and guide their travels during the daylight hours. Being with Essek - holding his hand and hearing his thoughts and sharing embraces once they were alone - often leaves Caleb feeling as if he’s floating on air. It isn’t a complacent comfort, but the kind that leaves Caleb with the feeling that he can try anything, no matter how brazen an idea. If Caleb can think it, Essek will support his every step toward making it a reality. It’s a fire that keeps Caleb questioning, constantly researching, and striving for more.
Unfortunately, it’s a fire that burns as often as it fuels. Researching is rarely as safe as it sounds, leading the pair of them to dangerous places in search of knowledge and answers. Caleb always offers to go alone, and Essek always insists on coming with him. It’s a well-practiced dance between them with every new lead Caleb gets, and each time Essek steps through a portal by his side Caleb hopes for the best and fears the worst.
It’s rare that the worst is what greets them, but unfortunately, rare doesn’t mean never.
“Caleb, behind you!” Essek shouts. Caleb had been preoccupied with the beast in front of him, his fire doing little damage to the creatures that appear to be curiously water-based in nature. He was so singularly focused, that he didn’t see one sliding soundlessly into position behind him.
Caleb starts to turn, but he’s too late. The creature shifts its almost gelatinous body, seeming to wash over Caleb rather than properly attacking him. For a second he thinks he’s unharmed, and then he feels the tingling sensation settle over every inch of exposed skin. His flesh, cold a moment before, begins to feel like nothing at all as his hands fall limp to his side.
“Essek, it’s paralyzing!” He barely manages the words, forcing them through uncooperating lips that rebel against even the slightest opening and closing.
Essek’s eyes widen in concern and Caleb wonders if it’s over his current state or the fact that with Caleb down all three of the creatures are turning their focus on him. It hardly matters. With a renewed urgency Essek closes his eyes, focuses, and unleashes three rays of frost that pierce through the center of the creatures, freezing them from the inside out. Caleb sits before he can fall completely. Just as he loses the last of his muscle control, gentle hands catch his head before it can crack off the earth below.
Essek kneels next to him, panting heavily from exertion. Caleb can feel the slight tremor in the arms that slide under him and lift the upper half of his body into Essek’s lap. A warm wave passes over him, magic that dries Caleb’s skin of any remaining paralytic residue.
“Caleb?” Essek asks, his voice soft.
Caleb can’t speak in reply. He can’t nod, or so much as blink to show that he’s listening. He should be terrified. He should feel helpless, anxious, and unnerved over being exposed and unable to defend himself.
All he feels, however, is reassured knowing that Essek is there with him.
After several failed attempts to pull the poison from Caleb’s veins, Essek curses. “I’m so sorry, my love.”
Caleb wants to reassure him, to tell him that it’s alright. He did what he could, and now all there is to do is wait.
Except Essek has never been good at doing nothing. He stands, pacing back and forth beside Caleb, then turning his attention to their surroundings.
“I don’t want to risk taking you through a portal in this condition,” Essek admits. “I can carry you, but that just puts us both at a disadvantage if there are more of these creatures out here. I can’t believe my research didn’t turn anything up on them… it should have. I should’ve known…” Caleb should’ve known, too. They both did their research, they’re both to blame if either one of them is, but Caleb knows research only goes so far. That’s why they’re out here, in the world, risking the danger of the unknown. The truth is rarely safe, nor is it easy. Finding the answers he seeks has risks they both accept.
“We’ll wait. I’ll stand guard, and we’ll camp here. Are you cold?” Essek asks, immediately frowning when he remembers that Caleb cannot answer. “I’ll start a small fire,” Essek answers himself without hesitation.
Caleb isn’t cold, because he isn’t anything at all. The numbness that stops his limbs from moving also stops his nerves from acknowledging any of the elements around him. He can see the wind moving Essek’s hair, and the patches of frost that slowly begin to form over the ground, but he feels neither the bite of the wind nor the snap of the cold.
As the feeling slowly but surely comes back to him, Caleb almost misses the paralyzing effects that saved him from being aware of just how freezing his body is. He wonders if it was always this cold here or if it’s a lingering effect of the powerful frost Essek spread… minutes before? Hours? Caleb has difficulty placing just how much time has passed since their arrival and immediate attack.
He blinks once, then twice, and feels a small shiver ripple down his spine. The movements feel small and inconsequential but Essek must’ve been watching him like a hawk because he notices them immediately.
“You’re alive,” Essek breathes, dropping to the ground by Caleb’s side without hesitation. Essek lifts up Caleb’s torso to pull him close, pressing Caleb’s cheek against his own. It isn’t often that Essek is the warmer of the two of them, but Caleb basks in the heat his body attempts to absorb through the brief contact. “You were so cold, and I saw you breathing but it was so shallow that I was afraid your lungs would paralyze as well, or-”
Caleb makes a sound that’s more mumble than speech as he forces his lips apart enough to get the words out in the space directly next to Essek’s ear. “M’fine.”
“Oh, you’re fine are you?” Essek says with a huff, carefully pulling away and re-adjusting Caleb’s body to rest in his lap. “Then that makes one of us.”
Caleb would laugh if he could. It’s only in these private moments together that they both allow their guards to drop and their insecurities to show. Only to each other do they bear their truest thoughts and deepest fears.
It’s no secret to either of them that losing the other tops that list of fears.
“S’rry,” Caleb manages. He can’t open and close his mouth enough to form full words, but he thinks it’s enough for Essek to understand him just the same. “Didn’ ‘ean to s’are you.”
Essek doesn’t reply to that, and Caleb stops trying to force out words in order to conserve his energy. As Caleb slowly regains movement in his toes first and then his fingers, Essek runs his long, thin fingers through Caleb’s hair in soothingly repetitive motions. He uses his magic to check for anything on Caleb he can heal, occasionally warming him until his body takes over the action of regulating his own temperature once more.
It’s a long, grueling process. Caleb may not be able to speak properly, but the sounds of pain as his muscles are able to move again are unmistakable. Every nerve that comes back to life feels like it’s on fire for several minutes, a sharp, constant pain that inches through his body at a snail’s pace.
“I could heal you faster, but then I risk not having enough energy to get us back home,” Essek says, eyeing Caleb closely for any sign of a response.
Caleb shakes his head slowly. He’s no stranger to pain, and he’s come back from worse without anyone to aid and reassure him. Still, the comfort is nice. Even the pangs of guilt he feels over putting Essek in danger are coupled with joy in the knowledge that he has someone willing to put themselves in danger for him. Willing to stay, for him.
It’s all the healing he needs, clinging to that knowledge as he pushes through the pain until he can sit himself upright.
“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” Caleb says, waiting until he’s certain he can get the words out with every ounce of strength he possesses. They ring true, as clear and simple as the feeling they’re born from.
“You’d do what you’ve always done, Caleb. You’d survive.” Caleb considers this. It’s true. He knows it’s true, but he also knows a life now that’s more than simply getting by for the sake of survival. Now that he has it he never wants to lose it, or worse, have to re-learn how to live without it.
“Perhaps,” Caleb agrees, taking Essek’s offered hand to stand again for the first time since the attack. His legs are wobbly, but Essek holds him steady until he straightens up fully on his own. “But I much prefer living.”
The statement hangs between them as heavy as the winds that pick up around them. Slowly, Caleb smiles, giving a gentle squeeze to the hand holding his. The squeeze is returned by Essek who smiles softly back.
Wordlessly, they begin the work to open a portal home.
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bytheangell · 7 months
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I’m begging for number 33 with kierarktina please literally anything
(Read on AO3)
Cristina knows the rules of the Unseelie Court are different than the ones she's used to living and abiding by. They're harsher and more unforgiving - for beings so reliant on tricks and subtle wordings, they lack the good-natured trait of sympathy when wronged.
She spends more and more time in the Unseelie realm, despite not truly belonging there, because she does belong with Mark and Kieran. It's a delicate line to walk for a Nephilim. Often times she will come and go from the cabin they share without any interaction with the other fey. Everyone knows who she is and that she isn't to be touched.
Other Nephilim aren't so lucky, especially when they trespass into the Unseelie realm uninvited.
When there's a knock on the door it's Kieran who goes to answer. There's a hushed conversation, the sound of a scuffle, and then the door closes again. When Kieran returns to her he's no longer wearing the soft, relaxed smile he had minutes before when they lay side by side in bed. Cristina knows this look, and she despises it.
The expression on Kieran's face now is one of reassigned regret, of a duty he carries out in part obligation, part genuine attempt to do good. Cristina isn't naive enough to think that means he won't have to make difficult decisions, ones she doesn't understand or agree with.
“Keep your hands over your ears, do you hear me? Even when the noises stop. Don’t listen.”
Kieran's instructions bring a chill through Cristina. She's about to question why when Mark enters the room with a quick, silent nod to Kieran before taking his place in the bed beside Cristina.
She feels his arms wrap around her, pulling her head down into his chest. "I'm so sorry you have to be here for this," he says.
"For what?" Cristina asks, but the anguished scream that reaches her from outside is all the answer she needs. She brings her hands up to her ears, pressing down into the pillow to help muffle the cries for mercy.
They must deserve this, whoever they are, whatever they've done. They must, because it takes a lot for Kieran to cave to the pressure of committing such acts of punishment.
Of torture.
Mark holds her tighter, one hand combing through her hair with his fingers. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," he repeats.
She's a Nephilim. She's no stranger to pain or the danger of being caught on a mission. She understands, as much as she wishes she didn't. Maybe that's just another thing Mark's sorry about - the fact that she does understand. That she isn't innocent enough for this to be enough to send her fleeing the other direction.
Love is strange that way. You rationalize away now than you normally would. You accept things you wouldn't from any other person. It's enough to know that they have no real choice.
It's enough to know that they could never do it to you.
Every so often Cristina thinks the screaming is over, only to be proven wrong the moment she moves her hands away from her ears.
Eventually, the screams stop. The front door opens and closes, and then the quiet sobs begin. Cristina wonders if these are the sounds Kieran doesn't want her to hear the most.
When he finally comes back to bed she can feel the weight of the night on him. Turning, she wraps her arms around him, giving a tight squeeze filled with as much comfort and reassurance she can manage. She feels his muscles relax under her touch, his breathing slow and stabilize.
"I'm sorry," she whispers, echoing Mark's words from earlier. "I'm so sorry."
It isn't enough, but for now, it's all they have.
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some-little-infamy · 1 year
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You Kept This?
Flufftober Day 12 - “You Kept This?”  (Read on AO3)
“I’m disgusting, Derek,” Stiles whines. He knows that he’s whining, he’s fully aware of the petulant tone his voice takes the longer he tries to convince Derek to let him come inside. “I can’t show up at home looking like his.”
Stiles gives his best puppy-dog-pleading eyes at Derek, not that he expects it to have any actual effect on the tall, dark, and brooding werewolf.
He’s surprised when it does.
“Fine,” Derek sighs. “Five minutes. Splash some water on your face and get out.”
Stiles looks down incredulously. He doesn’t say anything more, only stares pointedly at his stained and ripped t-shirt, the jacket that used to be over it long gone in the woods somewhere from the fight they just barely escaped from.
Derek gives him a ‘how is that my problem’ look, and Stiles would be impressed with how easily the two of them can communicate without words if he wasn’t so frustrated.
“Fine. Five minutes and one shirt,” Derek relents, pushing the front door open.
Stiles wastes no time going immediately to the bathroom to clean off. He’s acutely aware of the fact that Derek will kick him out dripping wet and shirtless at the five-minute mark if he doesn’t hurry.
Derek isn’t in his room when Stiles emerges 2 minutes later, so Stiles takes it upon himself to rifle through his drawers for a shirt.
Stiles expects to find nothing but dark, solid-colored tank tops and t-shirts. The last thing he expects to find is his shirt. The blue and burnt-orange striped shirt that Derek borrowed from Stiles what feels like lifetimes ago sits folded and pressed neatly on top of a stack of maroon polos.
Stiles freezes.
He’s still standing there, holding his shirt, his shirt which Derek kept, when Derek comes into the room.
“What’s taking you so long? I said you get five min--” Derek’s words drop off when he sees what Stiles is holding. “Uh. Oh. Yeah, you should, uh, take that back. I’ve been keeping it for you.”
“Keeping it for me?” Stiles repeats. He knows that doesn’t make any sense. They’ve seen each other dozens of times since then. “You could’ve given it back ages ago.”
“I forgot.” Stiles raises an eyebrow.
“A lot.”
“You kept it,” Stiles says, a smile spreading across his face. “For you.”
“You can’t prove that,” Derek says. “And if you ever try and tell anyone I’ll kill you.”
Stiles beams. He considers taking the shirt back, but folds it back up and places it back in the drawer instead.
“You can keep it for me a while longer,” Stiles says, grabbing a black t-shirt to change into instead. He half expects Derek to argue and is pleasantly surprised when he doesn’t.
Stiles gets the feeling he may be pleasantly surprised by a lot, if he plays his cards right.
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bytheangell · 6 months
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Hey I saw your plea for prompts!!! No pressure if you're not interested, but could I have a 54 for Thomastair fluff and/or hurt/comfort? "It's you and me against the world?"
(Read on AO3) "I'm going to tell them." 
Thomas says the words with a resolute tone and a small nod of his head. Thomas is sitting on the other side of the sofa, a notebook in front of him that’s meant to be filled with notes but looks far too empty for how long they’ve been sitting there. 
"Tell who what?" Alistair asks, looking up from his book with a cocked eyebrow. Despite Thomas making his declaration as if giving an answer to end a conversation, it's been silent between them for nearly half an hour. Alastair could tell that there's something on Thomas' mind but he's found that if he doesn't push it, Thomas is more likely to open up on his own.  
"Everyone everything," Thomas replies unhelpfully.  
Alastair purses his lips together, wondering if Thomas is being intentionally obtuse simply to mess with him. 
"About us, I mean," Thomas adds quickly at the sight of Alastair's expression.  
Alastair wonders where this is coming from all of a sudden.  Not that he isn't thrilled at the idea,  but… well, he knows Thomas' friends and he can't say he's eager to see their reactions.  
"Why the sudden change of heart?" 
"Because you've changed my heart." 
It's such a simple, sincere reply yet it sends Alastair's heartbeat racing with a giddiness he'd deny until his dying day.  
"And your friends?" Alastair can't help but ask.  
"They'll understand. They'll come around eventually.  And if they don't…" Thomas' newfound resolve waivers for the first time. He swallows thickly but pushes through without much hesitation. "... if they don't, then that's their loss. I love you, Alastair, and I want everyone to know it, even if it's you and me against the world." 
Alastair is so moved by that simple sentiment that he blinks a few times in rapid succession to make sure there’s no danger of unexpected tears being shed. 
“Every time I think I have you figured out, you surprise me in the best of ways,” Alastair says, placing his book down on the table in front of him. He shifts over to sit closer to Thomas, bringing a hand up to cup the side of Thomas’ face before kissing him the best he can through the impossibly large smile on his face. 
“So I take it you’re okay with me telling them, then?” Thomas asks when they finally pull away. “They may be awful to you, or- ”  “Hey, hey,” Alastair cuts Thomas off, shaking his head and taking Thomas’ hands in his own.  “However they react, I can handle it. We can handle it. Together. You and me against the world, remember?”
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bytheangell · 6 months
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A prompt for youuuuu m’lady~
33. “Keep your hands over your ears, do you hear me? Even when the noises stop. Don’t listen.”
For Malec?;)
Have a great day!!
Don't Look Back (Read on AO3)
Alec knows it’s his fault they’re here in the first place. He got cocky, or maybe careless… no, careless isn’t the right word. Reckless, but reckless in the face of trying to save the man he loves. He should’ve trusted that Magnus could handle himself, and should’ve listened when Magnus told him to run.
Now Alec stands within a cage of magical making, one he cannot escape unless the warlock who created it either takes down the walls or dies. Magnus stands on the other side, helpless to break it. Alec left himself an easy target, and now he’s being used as the one bait Magnus can’t walk away from.
“Magnus, please. Just get out of here and save yourself.” There are sounds from down the hallway, voices and footsteps, and flashes of magic that Alec knows won’t be good for either of them. “I’ll be fine.” “You’ll be dead,” Magnus says, his tone a bone-chilling mixture of casual and cruel. “And I can’t have that.”
“Magnus, I-”
“Shhh,” Magnus hushes sharply. “Alexander, I need you to listen to me. Close your eyes, and keep your hands over your ears, do you hear me? Even when the noises stop. Don’t listen.”
“Magnus, what are you going to do?” Alec asks.
“What I need to,” Magnus replies. “Please, Alexander. If you’re ever going to listen to me, listen to me now.”
There’s a desperation behind Magnus’ words that convinces Alec to close his eyes and bring his hands over his ears without any further hesitation. Not listening to Magnus is what brought them here in the first place, and he isn’t going to make the same mistake twice.
The sound that reaches Alec’s ears is nearly deafening, even through his palms pressed against his ears as hard as he can manage. There’s a light so bright he can see it beyond his clenched-shut eyelids, a flash of light red that brightens the blackness. The temptation to look is stronger than anything Alec’s ever felt before, and as the air around him begins to whip and pull at his clothing he almost does it.
Then it’s silent.
Alec takes a deep breath and releases the tension in his body ever-so-slightly, but keeps his hands over his ears and his eyes shut tight.
Even when the noises stop.
Alec wonders how long he should stay like this. The longer the silence draws out the faster the panic begins to rise, turning his stomach into knots and tightening his chest as his breathing quickens. What if Magnus is injured, or dead, and Alec is just standing there with his eyes shut doing nothing…
A gentle hand on Alec’s shoulder makes him jump, eyes snapping open with a split-second determination of whether the hand is a friend or an enemy. When his gaze lands on Magnus’ face mere inches away from his own, his first emotion is relief.
When he sees the way Magnus’ eyes droop with barely enough energy to remain open, his legs shaking until his knees buckle and he drops to the pavement below.
That’s when Alec finally takes in the other bodies on the ground. A quick glance shows nearly a dozen of them, and Alec can’t tell if they’re all warlocks or not. He also can’t tell if they’re unconscious or dead, and at this particular moment, he doesn’t want to know. If he thinks hard enough he’ll piece together that the barrier around him is no longer active, so at least one of them is dead.
Deep down, Alec knows he doesn’t care, not while Magnus is clearly hurting.
“Let’s get you out of here,” he says instead, focusing on escaping while he can.
Alec knows he’ll have to ask later but for now, he does his best to look past his surroundings, pretending he still can’t see or hear anything as he supports Magnus the best he can on their way out, never once looking back.
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bytheangell · 1 year
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Rumor Has It
Flufftober Day 22 - Have You Heard?  (Read on AO3)
Raphael hears the whispers of ‘have you seen?’ and ‘have you heard?’. He doesn’t know why anyone who has ever lived under his careful watch in the Hotel Dumort would ever imagine there are things they could say that wouldn’t reach his ears… but perhaps they don’t imagine that. Perhaps everyone whispering is doing so in the hopes that he does hear.
He’s endlessly amused by it. Raphael knows that he could put an end to the rumors but instead he chooses to remain silent, waiting for someone to say something to him.
Unsurprisingly, it’s Lily to finally comes to him directly.
“Hey, Raphael? The clan was talking, and you know how we all know that you and Simon are totally a thing, even though neither of you has actually openly admitted to it?” It’s rhetorical, but Lily pauses anyway to gauge Raphael’s reaction.
“We haven’t denied it,” he counters. Raphael likes Lily, she’s always been one of his favorites, and it’s nice to have someone he doesn’t feel the need to tiptoe around.
“Yeah, well, apparently a few people have seen Simon out with Jace. Like, out. With Jace. The way he’s with you,” Lily says, frowning.
“I’m aware,” Raphael says.
“We can kill him for you if you-- wait, what?” Lily stutters.
“I’m aware,” Raphael repeats. “They’re dating.”
“But you and Simon…” “Are also dating,” Raphael confirms.
“Oh,” Lily says. “Yeah. Okay, cool.”
“Is it?” Raphael asks. He’s genuinely curious about what she thinks of the situation - to entangle himself with another member of the clan is one thing, but to open that relationship to a Shadowhunte…
“I mean, I can’t believe Simon’s pulling two hotties and I can’t get a single date right now, but…”
Raphael rolls his eyes.
“Yeah. Of course, it’s cool,” Lily continues. “You’re happy, aren’t you? You seem like you’ve been happier lately,” Lily observes.
“I am,” Raphael agrees.
Raphael wonders what sort of reaction Lily and the others will have when they realize that Raphael is dating Simon and Jace, too. For now, what they don’t know won’t hurt them.
“Great,” Lily says. “Then as far as I’m concerned, the rest is none of my business. We just want to make sure you aren’t getting hurt.”
It’s a nice sentiment. It’s too nice, really, and Raphael finds himself getting a little emotional over the concern his clan has for him, even if they don’t always show it in the best ways.
“I appreciate your concern. You can tell the others to stop being such insufferable gossips, too. This is a vampire clan, not a sorority house.”
Lily laughs. “Will do, boss.”
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some-little-infamy · 2 years
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Something to Hold On To
(For my darling spouse @thatnerdemryn as a slightly belated birthday gift! <3) (Read on AO3)
Eddie notices it the first few times Steve falls asleep around him. One time Steve sits propped up against Eddie after nodding off while watching tv, another time sprawled out on Eddie's sofa after drifting off on the time it takes Eddie to run to the kitchen and grab drinks. Both times Steve brings his arms up in front of him, close to his chest, almost like he's trying to clutch at some invisible blanket.
Eddie also notices that Steve can never seem to get comfortable, either. He tosses and turns, occasionally reaching out around him only to bring his arms back in with a subconscious frown when he realizes they're empty. It’s cute, but it would be cuter if whatever’s missing isn’t something that clearly bothers Steve enough to disrupt his sleep and cause him discomfort.
It takes Eddie a little while to figure out what it is. He tries asking Steve directly once, but all Harrington does is stutter his way through some dismissal Eddie knows is bullshit about not knowing what he does while he’s sleeping. Steve claims to have no idea what Eddie can possibly be talking about. Eddie knows it’s bullshit because Steve Harrington never stutters his way through anything and because Steve always runs a hand nervously through his hair as he lies.
The audacity of this guy, Eddie thinks. He likes to imagine that the two of them are beyond the point of lying to keep up appearances, or being afraid of what the other may think, but clearly, he’s wrong. So he decides to put his mind to figuring out what it is that Steve is so embarrassed about that he feels the need to lie to Eddie.
Honestly, once he starts really thinking about it, the answer is pretty damn obvious. Eddie could ask Steve if he’s right, but he’d rather test his theory by catching Steve off guard.
The next time Steve is over and starts to doze off, Eddie waits until he’s nearly asleep before sliding the light brown teddy bear into Steve’s arms, watching the way they curl around the stuffed animal immediately. It’s the exact same motion Eddie’s seen Steve make countless times before, but this time it’s met with a small smile of comfort as Steve’s arms find what they’re looking for in their grasp.
Smiling down at Steve, Eddie watches the way Steve looks so endearingly at peace while he sleeps in a way that Eddie hasn’t seen before. This is absolutely it. This is what’s been missing. Eddie doesn’t have to ask why Steve didn’t just tell him he likes to sleep with a stuffed animal - he has his macho-man, too-cool-for-emotions facade and all to keep up with. But still… this is Eddie. Steve has to know he doesn’t have to keep up appearances around Eddie, right?
An hour later Steve wakes up slowly, groggily processing what’s in his hands before his eyes shift focus into alertness real quick.
“Where did this come from?” Steve asks, holing the bear up at Eddie.
“I gave it to you,” Eddie says. “You sleep with one at home, don’t you?”
Steve hesitates, and when he finally answers his words are accompanied by a beautiful flush in his cheeks and a flustered stutter.
“I don’t… What gave you that idea?” Steve huffs.
“Steve…” Eddie prompts, eyebrow raised expectantly.
“Fine. Yes.”
Eddie smiles, but it isn’t the teasing smirk that Steve probably expects from him. It’s something softer.
“Well, now you have one for when you sleep here,” Eddie says.
“I don’t need-” Steve starts, but cuts his protest short as Eddie’s eyes narrow at him.
“I think what you mean to say is, ‘Thank you, Eddie, for anticipating my needs when I’m too embarrassed to tell you what they are’,” Eddie suggests, and this time his words are accompanied by a small smirk.
“Thanks, Eds,” Steve says, giving the stuffed animal a small squeeze. “It’s nice. No one’s ever really… yeah. It’s nice.”
“You’re welcome,” Eddie replies.
“Does this mean you don’t mind when I fall asleep here?” Steve asks with a small, knowing grin.
“Not at all, Harrington,” Eddie promises. “In fact, I wouldn’t mind if you did it more often… like tonight, if you wanted.”
“Yeah?” Steve sounds cautiously hopeful like he’s making sure Eddie isn’t just messing with him.
“Yeah. If you want,” Eddie repeats. He thinks he’s been reading the room right on this one, but he’s never been entirely certain. Especially not when it comes to someone like Steve, who has been one surprise after another since Eddie really started to get to know him.
“I do,” Steve agrees. “Tonight sounds great.”
As it turns out, the teddy bear ends up being entirely unnecessary when Eddie stays the night. Instead of wrapping his arms around the stuffed animal, Steve wraps his arms around Eddie, pulling him close.
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some-little-infamy · 1 year
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My Person
(Read on AO3)
Eddie knows that the relief of having one of his family members watch Christopher only lasts until the moment he pulls up outside of their house. It doesn’t matter which member of the family it is - they all have something to say about how Eddie’s managing his life. He can’t escape a pick-up without at least one off-handed remark about something he’s doing… or, more likely, something he isn’t doing.
“I just don’t understand why you haven’t found someone to settle down with yet,” Pepa says.
Eddie sighs, barely restraining an eye roll.
“I don’t have time to date, and you know that," he says.
"I'd be happy to watch Christopher more often if you wanted-" Pepa offers, but Eddie cuts her off.
"I already hate how often I'm away from him. I don't want to make it more."
"But it would be for his benefit in the long run," Pepa pushes.
"We're just fine the way we are, thanks," Eddie says, doing his best not to sound as defensive as he feels. He knows that this comes from a good place - that she just wants him to be happy. "What benefits Christopher right now is consistency. He doesn't need to see a rotating door of women at the apartment."
It's at that moment Christopher comes into the kitchen, shifting his backpack up on his shoulder where it keeps sliding down.
"C'mon Chris, time to go home," Eddie says, thinking he's in the clear.
"Hey Christopher," Pepa says, and Eddie freezes. She wouldn’t bring him into this, surely…
“Wouldn’t you like it if your dad had someone at home with you to, oh, I don’t know, help you with your homework?” She asks, putting all the innocence in the world behind her tone.
“He does,” Christopher says without hesitation. “Buck helps me with my homework all the time.”
Pepa shakes her head. “No, but I mean someone who is there all the time.”
“Buck is there all the time,” Chris points out. And yeah, Eddie thinks, he isn’t wrong, even if that isn’t the sort of ‘around’ that Pepa means.
“What about someone to help you get ready for school in the morning? Or cook dinner with you at night?” Pepa asks, trying to narrow exactly what she means by her line of questioning.
“Buck lets me wear my light-up sneakers even when it’s going to be muddy out,” Christopher says. “And he helps me make cookies to bring into class! He isn’t so great at cooking regular food but we always pretend it isn’t that bad,” Christopher adds, laughing at what Eddie’s sure is the last time Buck tried to cook an actual dinner for the three of them, only to end up burning half of it.
“Well, it sure sounds like this Buck is around a lot, isn’t he?” Pepa asks, this time her questioning is aimed at Eddie and not Christopher.
Eddie hadn’t really thought about how much more Buck’s been around lately - playing video games with Christopher or helping with homework or staying for meals. Eddie thinks about how his place was the one place Buck felt safe enough coming to after his coma when he needed an escape from the well-wishers rotating through his own apartment, considering the implication that Eddie was as much of a comfort for him as Buck has been for Eddie these past few months.
“Yeah, I guess he is,” Eddie admits. Honestly, he’s gotten so used to Buck being around that he hadn’t stopped to think about how much he was helping out with Christopher, and how he always seems to be perfectly happy to do whatever might be needed at the moment. Buck even cleaned up the living room the other night while Eddie put Christopher to bed.
“What else does Buck do with you?” Pepa asks Christopher.
“Buck told me the best bedtime story the other night,” Chris supplies easily. “He never reads them from a book, he just tells them from memory. He said he’s going to take me surfing soon, too! Just like dad and Buck too me skateboarding.”
“I see,” Pepa says. “And you trust Buck to take Christopher into the ocean like that?”
Eddie thinks he should pause longer, or have to think about it more, but he doesn’t. There’s a reason he made Buck the person who would get custody of Chris if he dies. And after the lengths Buck went to save Christopher during the tsunami, and the way Christopher goes to Buck when he’s upset? It isn’t even a question.
“I trust Buck with Christopher’s life,” Eddie admits easily.
“It looks like you already have your person then, doesn’t it, mi sobrino?” Pepa says.
Eddie does hesitate now, because what she’s implying… Buck is just a friend. He’s just a friend who likes to spend time with Eddie and his kid. Just a friend who does everything Eddie would normally pay Carla to do, only he does it just because he likes to help and spend time with them. Just a friend he entrusts his child to if anything happens to him, a friend he trusts to do right by Christopher more than any family member.
It never occurred to Eddie that part of the reason he’s so content to not be dating right now is because he’s, well, content.
And Evan Buckley plays no small role in that contentedness.
“I have to go,” Eddie says abruptly, taking Christopher by the arm and half-dragging him to the truck.
His person is waiting.
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bytheangell · 6 months
Note
hello elle! i've noticed you haven't posted as much as usual and i figured that's something every writer goes through but i'm rooting for you! right now i'm trying to work on a waywood longfic that i hope to start posting this year 😅
hope things go fine for you, you always have my best wishes. since you said you're open to anything, maybe do you feel like to write more waywood? you'll have my enthusiasm and joy supporting you 😆
from the prompt list you posted, some i felt that waywood could go for were 4, 5, 7, 22, 47, 189 and 193. of course, you should only write what you feel like writing ☺️
(Read on AO3)
People always say that children can be cruel, but they often overlook the fact that they take after the equally heartless adults who raise them.
It was one thing when the other students taunted Robert for his family history - whenever he does too well, or too poorly, it’s either ‘good to know you’re smarter than a worm’ or ‘what did you expect from a Lightworm?’. Robert was used to that. No matter how far his family came, no matter how much distance they put between themselves and Benedict’s legacy, it never seemed to be enough.
It was another thing to have one of the Institute’s Professors step in to break up a fight and say “Why am I not surprised to find a Lightwood at the heart of another problem?” when Robert had done nothing wrong. He’d never done anything wrong. He’d done nothing but his best to keep turning his family name into something positive, something to be proud of. It was never enough. He was never enough.
And the one person who thought Robert was enough, Robert pushed away.
Robert didn’t wait for the Professor to finish before he turned, started running, and didn’t look back.
Robert hadn’t spoken to Michael in days now… or was it weeks? And yet in this moment, getting more lost by the second as he made his way through the pitch-black forest, everything inside of him screamed for Michael’s company.
Robert tripped over a root, or a rock and fell hard to the ground below. He felt a cut across his knee, the pain of a twisted muscle in his wrist, and even though he could get up if he wanted to he chose not to. He sat there, on the cold, hard ground, and his heart, mind, and soul all yearned for Michael to be by his side.
He didn’t know how long he sat there. He thought he may just stay on the ground forever, honestly. The next thing Robert knew, he heard the crunching of branches approaching, and then Michael was by his side.
“You’re hurt,” Michael said, reaching down for Robert. It wasn’t a question.
“Why are you here?” Robert asked, pulling his arm away from Michael’s reach and immediately regretting the action as a new sting of pain traveled from his wrist up the length of his arm.
“You’re hurt,” Michael repeated.
“The last time we spoke…” Robert trailed off.
“You were a proper asshole,” Michael confirmed, already pulling out his stele.
“Then why are you here?” Robert repeated.
“Because I could feel you out here, Robert. Hurting. Calling for me through our bond, whether you meant to or not. We’re parabatai…” Michael hesitated, but only for a second before pushing forward. “...and I love you. I told you that I’d never leave you; I’m not going anywhere.”
Michael held his stele over Robert’s healing rune, looking at Robert expectantly. Even after all this, he wanted to respect any boundaries Robert might set. Robert nodded slowly, closing his eyes against the comforting sensation of his parabatai activating his rune spread through him.
He didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t sure what he could say that would excuse his past actions, or show Michael the sort of appreciation he deserved for staying even now. Why should Michael bother to come all the way out here and help the person who kept trying to push him away?
But Michael was his Parabatai, and Robert should’ve known better than to think he’d have to say anything at all. In the silence that fell between them, Michael seemed to read his mind.
“I will always choose you, Robert. Even if you won’t always choose me.”
Robert didn’t deserve Michael, didn't deserve his reassurance and comfort... but just as Michael chose to be here, Robert could choose to accept it. 
And he did.  
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bytheangell · 1 year
Text
Love Language
Flufftober Day 10 - Love Language (Read on AO3)
Raphael is caught off-guard the first time Simon gives him a gift.
“It’s nothing,” Simon insists. “It’s just that this seems like it’s way more your style than mine, and I know we’re the same size since I borrowed that suit for Alec’s almost wedding, so…”
Raphael inspects the dress shirt, a just-shy-of-black color with a raised, textured pattern in pure black. It is his style, and he isn’t sure what to make of the fact that Simon knows that after the short period of time they’ve known each other.
“Thank you,” Raphael says, deciding there’s no harm in accepting it. He ignores just how pleased Simon looks in return.
That isn’t the last time Simon gives him something. Some of the gifts are planned ahead of time, like the tickets to a show that Simon made sure would start enough after sundown to not be any risk. Another time it’s a brand of cologne Raphael casually mentioned running out of and not being able to find more of, which Simon managed to hunt down a near-perfect duplicate of.
Raphael tries not to think too hard about the fact that Simon’s putting all of this thought and effort into getting him these things. He tries even harder not to think about how much more meaningful the smaller, impromptu gifts are, like Simon swinging by Rosa’s while he’s out to drop off chocolates, or buying a flower from a street vendor to tuck into Raphael’s jacket pocket.
“What is this?” Raphael asks one day.
“It’s a pen,” Simon says, looking uncertainly down at the very nice fountain pen he just handed Raphael.
“No, I mean… all of this. The constant presents. I have plenty of money, I don’t need you to buy me things, Simon,” Raphael says.
“I know,” Simon agrees. “But I want to.”
“Why?” There it is, the root of it all. Raphael hasn’t asked that question yet, like maybe if he didn’t give the gifts too much attention or thought they would just stop. But they haven’t, and Simon probably never will, so he has to at least know why.
“You deserve nice things and you never really treat yourself, you know? You’re always too busy taking care of everyone else.”
Raphael considers that. Simon isn’t wrong, Raphael does spend most of his time and energy looking out for the clan, and for Simon and the other newer fledglings in particular.
“I’ve never been good at that sort of stuff, but Clary always said I was great at gifts,” Simon continues, speaking into Raphael’s continued silence. “I guess gift-giving is, like, my love language.”
It occurs to Raphael then that Simon considers Raphael taking care of him as Raphael’s love language. He’s tempted to argue, except Simon’s right. Raphael does many things out of obligation to his clan, but he does a lot more because he cares, and because he wants to rather than needs to.
It’s his love language.
“You are very great at gifts, Clarissa is correct,” Raphael says finally. “Thank you, Simon.”
“It’s just a pen,” Simon says with a shrug, but Raphael shakes his head.
“I believe tonight you’ve given me more than just a pen.”
“I’m pretty sure it’s just a pen,” Simon repeats.
Raphael turns away with an endeared smile to put his new favorite pen away somewhere special.
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some-little-infamy · 1 year
Text
Honesty Has Its Benefits
(read on AO3) (Inspired by a plothook from @daniwib) 
It happens by accident. It’s such a simple moment, one no more dangerous than they’ve been in a dozen times before, and one much less dangerous than both of them have faced before.
The fire explodes outward, breaking the glass of every window, and splintering the wood of every door not already burning. Buck, the last one inside, gets thrown several feet by the blast, landing in a heap on a pile of rubble. He closes his eyes for a second, only to snap them open when he hears his name.
“Buck?! BUCK!”
It’s Eddie.
Buck forces himself to his feet, stance shaky, so Eddie won’t worry as much.
“I’m fine,” Buck manages, voice breaking with the effort of those two words. “Let’s get back to Cap and-”
Except just as Buck goes to walk back with Eddie toward the others Eddie stops him, grabbing his wrist and pulling Buck back around to face him.
“Stop. Almost. Dying.” Buck isn't sure if it's meant to sound like an order, but Eddie’s words come out as a desperate plea.
They make and hold eye contact for a few seconds too long, and there’s no denying exactly what the charged energy between them is and what it could mean. It isn't new, but it feels different this time.
It feels like it could be more than just wishful thinking.
“Make me,” Buck says. It's a challenge, but with it comes a promise: that if Eddie does make him, he'll listen.
Eddie does.
Eddie kisses him, short but intense, knowing that at any moment concerned members of the team will be rounding that corner after Eddie.
And just like that, everything Buck hoped and hinted at and prayed for, was real.
---
They don't tell the team at first.
Buck wonders if it's obvious, but a part of him realizes that he barely acts any differently at the station because these aren't new feelings, they're just newly admitted. In actuality, he looks at Eddie with the same endearing fondness he has for months now.
Still, things are different between them now on a fundamental level and they want to make sure that will last before they make any sweeping declarations about it to the rest of the team.
They wait two months.
Two months of Buck going back to Eddie's place more often than his own. Two months of more frequent radio check-ins in the field when they aren't in the others' line of sight. Two months of Buck switching shifts last minute to watch Christopher when Eddie's sitter bails last minute. Two months of stealing kisses and sneaking lingering touches when no one is looking.
When they tell the team they're met with soft smiles and exaggerated surprise that Buck's positive is for his and Eddie's benefit. Still, it's appreciated that even if they were suspected no one tried to force their hand until they were ready.
"Thanks, guys. I knew we could count on you to be cool about it," Buck says.
"Don't thank me for that yet," Chimney warns. "Wait until I have time to plan the 'thank God we don't have to keep pretending we didn't see you grab Eddie's ass last month' party."
"I told you someone would see that, " Eddie hisses, not quite under his breath.
"You didn't exactly pick the most subtle guy to date, Diaz," Hen points out.
Buck glances uncertainly over at Eddie, but the nerves aren't needed. Eddie, despite some mild embarrassment, is smiling.
The only person not smiling is Bobby, a fact that doesn't escape Buck's notice. Bobby is quiet and reserved, leaving while the rest of them chat and laugh without a single word to Buck or Eddie.
Buck exchanges a worried glance with Eddie, but even Bobby's silence can't put a total damper on the elated mood of the room that Buck is quick to return to.
Whatever Bobby's problem is, he can deal with it later. For now, he basks in Eddie's arm around his waist for the first time in front of their overly supportive friends, unable to imagine anything that could ever bring him down again.
---
It's a feeling that doesn't last long, because when he shows up for work the following day the mood in the air is tense. One glance through the window of Bobby's office shows him the reason: Captain Mehta and Chief Williams sit at his desk.
That's never a good sign.
Bobby must have been looking out for him because a second later he’s at the door and motioning for Buck to come over.
“What did you do, Buckley?” Chimney asks.
“Beats me,” Buck says, and for someone who is relatively certain he shouldn’t be in trouble he sure feels like a rock just landed in his stomach.
“Ah, good timing, Eddie. you too,” Bobby calls out, looking over Buck’s shoulder. Buck turns around to see Eddie coming up behind him, eyebrow raised. Buck shrugs and reaches his hand back for Eddie to take and gives a comforting squeeze.
"What's up, Cap?" Buck asks as causality as he can.
"Captain Mehta and Chief Williams are here to conduct an internal review to determine if the two of you can remain employed by the same firehouse," Bobby explains.
"What?!" Buck sputters. "Why wouldn't we?"
"Buck-" Eddie attempts to step in with calm reassurance.
"This is… this is discrimination!" Buck continues anyway.
"Before you go and start another lawsuit," Chief Williams says. "Maybe wait to hear us out?"
Buck winces and falls silent.
"We aren't here because of any complaints, which is a great start," she continues. "But we need to determine if the two of you remaining here together would compromise the team as a whole. "
Buck doesn't get it. This team is his family. It's Eddie's family. How could their dating have any impact on that if no one complained?
"They're worried we might focus too much on each other," Eddie says as if reading his mind. "Prioritize saving each other over someone closer, or who needs attention more."
Eddie's words are tense. He sounds frustrated but resigned, like he's more annoyed he didn't consider this before now. Buck knows the feeling… not that he would've done anything differently. It's fine. They're going to be fine.
"Exactly," Captain Mehta says, sounding relieved that they're all on the same page now. "It's to be expected. Who wouldn't want to save the person they love over anyone else?"
Buck makes sure to avoid eye contact with Eddie at that, because for everything they've discussed, everything they're so certain of, they haven't said The Word yet.
Captain Mehta chimes in to lay out the plan.
"We're going to ask the two of you to take the day so we can conduct interviews with your team without any undue influence from the two of you, and look over reports from the last… two months, did you say you were together?"
Buck nods, but his attention turns to Bobby.
“You knew,” he accuses. This is why Bobby was so somber yesterday. “You knew and you didn’t say anything.”
"Don’t be too mad at him, it’s protocol,” Captain Mehta says. ” Just to see if there are any patterns of bias or preferential treatment," he finishes.
"Why don't you just watch us now?" Buck asks, figuring following on a call or two would have to be easier than sifting through hours of reports.
"Because now you'd know we're looking, " Chief Williams points out. "You'd act differently. "
Buck tries to think back to recent calls, wondering if there's anything he did during them that might royally screw them over now. Not that it matters - what's done is done, but still… if he can think of something and try to get ahead of it, or just explain…
He's been in his head long enough to miss whatever was said next, but judging by the way Eddie starts moving toward the door it was probably a dismissal.
"It's fine, Buck. We'll handle it, whatever happens. We're going to be fine," Eddie promises him on their way out. Buck does his best to trust him, though he's heard Eddie use that line to appease Christopher one-too-many times for it to be truly reassuring.
---
The day off is torture. Buck should be able to enjoy the extra time with Eddie but all he can think about is how much he wants to text the others and see how the interviews are going.
"Buck, relax. I can see you overthinking from here," Eddie says, frowning over at him from across the little outdoor Cafe table they're sitting at.
"Sorry," Buck says, physically shaking his head to try and mentally shake himself out of the small spiral he's in. "How are you not freaking out?"
"Because our friends support us and we're damn good at our jobs," Eddie says simply. And he has a point - they are, and that should be enough.
The rest of the team says the same when they return to work the next day. Buck continues to overthink every move - when Eddie and Chimney pair off to go into a building Buck only radios Chim. He barely acknowledges Eddie all day, and there's an uncomfortable weight over the entire team because of it. The dynamic is off and he hates it, but he's afraid one wrong move will be the reason he or Eddie will have to leave.
They're told it would probably take a week or two, but Captain Mehta and Chief Williams are back the following morning.
That can't be good.
"Please, take a seat," Captain Mehta says, motioning to the chair next to where Eddie was already sitting.
"Wait," Buck says. "Don't we get a chance to speak for ourselves first?!"
"Buck, I don't think that's necessary-" Bobby starts, but stops when Chief Williams holds up a hand.
"No, go on. I'm curious what he has to say."
Buck braces, reminding himself that this isn't just his life on the line but Eddie's, too.
"I don't know what you read, or heard, but I swear to you that this entire team is my family. They're our family. And we would never put any of them or any member of the public at risk just because of our relationship. Eddie would dump me so fast if I let anyone die to save him instead."
Eddie huffs out a light laugh. "You're not wrong."
"And this isn't new. The label is, sure, but I've-" Buck's sentence drops off abruptly, but there's no other way for this to carry as much meaning as he needs it to. "I've loved Eddie for a lot longer than 2 months. And not once has it affected my judgment in the field."
"While we appreciate your honesty, Mr. Buckley-"
"And Eddie should be the one to stay," Buck blurts out.
"Buck-" Eddie protests immediately.
"Christopher needs the flexibility Cap can give him here. I know other firehouses won't be so understanding."
"Mr. Diaz will be staying, " Captain Mehta says.
For a moment Buck feels a strange warring of relief for Eddie and profound dread for himself, until the Captain continues.
"As will you, Mr. Buckley."
“What?” Buck ass, mouth hanging open in surprise.
“You’re both staying. Everyone on your team said the exact same thing - that they trust you with their lives. We looked through a few of the more recent reports and any time you two went out together it was strictly professional, and every judgment call was by the books. We’re normally a little more thorough, but when Captain Nash called to inform us of whatever horrible tension overtook the lot of you yesterday we decided to end your suffering early and go with our guts on this one.”
“Then why did you let me say all that?!” Buck asks, the elation of knowing his job is safe suddenly morphing into mild mortification over everything that just left his mouth in front of his superiors.
Chief Williams shrugs, barely holding back a full smirk. “I thought it might be amusing. I was right.” She moves toward the door with Captain Mehta behind her. “And from the look on Mr. Diaz’s face during your little speech, I think the two of you need a few minutes.”
“I’ll show you out,” Bobby offers, giving Buck and Eddie both a wide smile.
The moment they’re alone Eddie rounds on Buck. “I can’t believe you,” he says, shaking his head.
“Sorry. It just came out, I-”
“I cannot believe you would say you loved me for the first time when I couldn’t say it back,” Eddie continues, wasting no time in closing the gap between them and kissing Buck, uncaring of who’s prying eyes may be watching.
“Thank you,” Eddie says, nearly breathless, when they finally pull apart. Buck is pretty sure he can hear clapping and a few cheers muffled by the glass but he can’t be bothered to look - he can’t bring himself to look at anything but Eddie.
“For what?” Buck asks.
“For putting Christopher first. For standing up for us. For being you,” Eddie lists off. “Take your pick.”
“All of the above?” Buck suggests, grinning.
Eddie kisses him again, and Buck can feel Eddie’s lips pulling up into a smile against his own.
“Maybe let other people talk first from now on, though?” Eddie suggests.
Buck places his arms on Eddie’s shoulders, looking him in the eyes with a smirk. “I don’t know, I’d say talking first is playing out pretty well for me this time around.”
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some-little-infamy · 1 year
Text
stubborn, even in death
(a 6x10 coda based on the 6x11 sneak peek) (Read on AO3) During the entire ambulance ride to the hospital, all Eddie felt was the distance between him and Buck. It was a matter of feet but it felt like there were oceans between them, nothing but a void of space that muffles the sounds of Hen and Chimney in the back. Even Bobby’s voice speaking from the seat next to him is muffled by Eddie’s racing pulse thumping in his ears, echoing inside his head.
Echoing a heartbeat that Buck doesn’t have.
Eddie barely gets the ambulance into park before the driver’s-side door is open and his legs swing out and onto the pavement below. He barely registers the action, moving on auto-pilot until his eyes land on Buck as they wheel him out of the back.
Buck.
Evan Buckley, silent and still: two things Eddie never would’ve associated with the man before now.
“Chim, I’ll take over.”
Eddie does his best to keep his voice even, pushing down the panic and desperation he feels throughout every square inch of his being. If he seems too emotional, or too unstable, they won’t let him close. Bobby made that much clear when he told Eddie to drive.
The time spent driving was enough to calm him, but now Eddie needs to be closer. He needs to help.
He needs to save Buck.
It’s different, somehow, with his hands on Buck’s chest. Everything feels that much more real, and Eddie isn’t sure if that’s good or bad just yet. Buck’s chest remains defiantly still, refusing to rise or fall.
Evan Buckley: stubborn, even in death.
No.
The thought chokes Eddie, cutting off his air, his own breathing tight and strained as he tries to pump life back into Buck’s heart and push air back into his lung. Eddie closes his eyes, willing the nearly deafening thrum of his own pulse into Buck through his hands, the press of palm to chest, praying---
“We got a pulse!”
Eddie could collapse right then and there with the relief those four simple words bring.
A pulse.
Life.
Not death.
Buck isn’t dead.
Eddie hadn’t realized how much he was subconsciously preparing himself for that possible reality - one where he had to explain to Christopher that Buck wouldn’t be coming over any more, one where he went with Bobby to break the news to Maddie and Buck’s parents who are in town to visit.
One where Eddie loses every chance he convinced himself he’d have in the future to be honest with Buck about his feelings.
But just when hope begins to flood through Eddie again he’s reminded of the severity of the situation by the words of those around him. Bobby tells the nurses about Buck’s medical history and allergies and the nurse promises them that they’re going to do their best. It’s the promise of someone who knows there are no guarantees, not when it comes to an injury like this.
Their best isn’t enough. It should be Eddie in there with them, following through the doors all firefighters know they have to stop and leave their patients at. Except this isn’t just another drop-off for them to walk away from.
This is Buck.
This is family.
“Do more!” Eddie shouts, feeling helpless and frustrated as he watches Buck disappear around a corner.
The silence that follows his broken yell is more deafening than anything Eddie’s ever heard.
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bytheangell · 2 years
Text
Unexpected Events
( @thehuntersmoondiscord​ 500 word prompt: Party) (Read on AO3)
When every warlock in the room begins to lose control of their magic, Lorenzo fears the worst. His immediate assumption is that it’s a set-up. Something so monumental happening during the time of his transition must be more than a coincidence. This is nothing short of sabotage, pure and simple, and the list of enemies he has who may be behind it is a mile long. After all, one does not reach the stature Lorenzo Rey has without stepping on a few toes along the way.
The party grinds to a halt and, without control of his own abilities, Lorenzo is forced to stand helpless on the sidelines. People call out in mixtures of concern, rising anxiety, and fear as warlock marks are exposed unwillingly and magic crackles in the air, uncontrolled. Lorenzo watches with horror as the wayward portal forms and moves toward one of the younger warlocks at the party, a little girl named Madzie.
And then Alexander Lightwood steps in.
Lorenzo will spend the rest of the night (and many days to follow) blaming Magnus Bane and his father for the tainted leylines. He’ll claim that the only way a Shadowhunter of all people would step in to protect a warlock child is because he knew he wouldn’t be harmed in the process, because obviously, Alexander was part of Bane’s set-up. Lorenzo will spread that rumor to everyone within earshot to secure his position of favor, but he doesn’t believe a word of it.
Not when Lorenzo sees the pure fear in Lightwood’s eyes.
Lorenzo watches every muscle in Lightwood’s body tense as the portal comes towards him with angry, buzzing magic. To his credit, Lightwood never flinches away from his protective stance in front of Madzie. The thought likely never crosses his mind, not while Lorenzo watches the panic in Lightwood's eyes and clocks the moment the Shadowhunter accepts that he is about to die. This isn't planned, not so far as Lightwood is concerned at least. It's just a man protecting someone in danger, someone he cares about.
For that man to be a Shadowhunter, and that someone a warlock he hasn't known longer than a few weeks? That, in Lorenzo's mind, is even more dangerous than if the entire scene had been planned.
Lorenzo can't risk any renewed sympathy for Magnus Bane and Alexander Lightwood, not when he worked so hard for this nomination in Magnus’ place. He can't chance anyone wanting to put their trust back in the warlock who has Shadowhunters on his side.
Lorenzo warily eyes Alexander and Magnus once the magical threat is over, critiquing this new threat in front of him and wondering what he's going to do about him before it's too late.
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some-little-infamy · 1 year
Text
I’m On Standby
(Read on AO3) 
It takes everything in Eddie to drive the ambulance through the rain safely and steadily, when all he wants to do is floor it, picking up speed until he can’t go any faster to get Buck to the hospital as quickly as possible.
Slow. Steady. Bobby trusted him with this.
Trusted him with Buck.
Eddie shakes his head slightly, keeping his focus on the dark, slippery road ahead of him instead of Evan’s lifeless body in the back of the truck. He tries not to listen to the shouts that sound frantic enough to imply that Buck’s heartbeat hasn’t returned yet, even though he can’t make out the actual words being said. He wants to stop the ambulance and run back there and be the one to bring him back, to force him back, because he can’t die like this.
He can’t die before he has the family he’s always wanted.
Eddie saw the way Buck’s entire face lit up when he showed Eddie the sonogram of his friend’s son, his entire being radiating with the sort of pride that comes from the sort of person who’s meant to be a father. Eddie feels a stab of guilt with a healthy dash of shame over the knowledge that he didn’t feel the same when his own son was born - that he ran from that opportunity instead of embracing it for longer than he’s proud of.
But not Buck. Buck, who is ready to give himself over for a child he isn’t even going to raise.
…the way Buck gives himself over to Chris every time they’re in the same room. Hell, not even in the same room, because Eddie’s heard that pride and excitement come through phone lines and smiles that beam through video calls.
He saw when Buck pulled those kids aside on the beach to explain to them what happened to the sand after the lightning, keeping them distracted but also informed. Keeping them calm while the others worked to save their dad.
He saw it again when Buck helped Bobby rescue the newborn from the car, moving with a careful ease that he reserves for those who need it most. Eddie’s been on the receiving end of some of Buck’s gentler touches in his own time of need, broken down on the floor of his demolished room, and he knows how rare and meaningful those moments are.
The lights turn green in front of him and he barely has to apply the break as they glide through intersection after intersection.
Focus. Get there safe. Get Buck there safe.
The noises in the back are quieter now and Eddie refuses to think about what that might mean.
All he can think about is making sure Buck has a chance to live the future he’s always wanted, the future he deserves.
After one-too-many close calls, he resolves that if Buck pulls through this time Eddie’s going to make sure the offer’s on the table for that family to be with him.
He can only hope he gets the chance.
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bytheangell · 1 year
Text
to you i can admit (that I’m just too soft for all of it)
(Read on AO3) (TW: anxiety, anxiety attack) Alec hates this feeling. He isn’t a stranger to it, but the strength with which it washes over him today catches him entirely off-guard. He can’t ignore it, but even worse, he can’t hide it. The slightest inconveniences and missteps throughout his day nearly bring him to tears on more than one occasion. With every overly-loud conversation half-shouted across the cafeteria or the bustling area of the Ops Room Alec notices his anxiety rising steadily throughout the day. He spends his lunch break lying on the floor of his office with all the lights off, willing his mind to quiet for a few precious minutes of peace before he’s back to the grind.
His hands are shaky while he forces his way through the paperwork he must finish before he can be done with his day… or at least the public portion of his day. He sends Magnus a warning text that he isn’t in the best mind space just so his husband is aware of it. Being honest about his bad days instead of hiding them is something Alec’s been working on improving.
After what feels like centuries but is really only another hour, Alec wraps up his reports and walks away from anything that can wait until tomorrow. All he wants is to be home. All he wants is to be with Magnus.
It feels like such a goddamn cliche but Alec knows that it’s true: the moment he steps through the doorway of the apartment they call home, there’s an immediate release of some of the tension in his chest.
And then Alec wants to cry all over again, but for the best of reasons this time.
The sofa is covered with their most comfortable blankets and pillows taken from the bed. His favorite snacks are on the side table, and a stuffed bear Magnus got him last Christmas waits in Alec’s usual spot next to Magnus. To top it all off, one of Alec’s favorite of Magnus’ records is playing in the corner, soft and soothing.
“Welcome home, darling,” Magnus greets him, already waiting for Alec on the sofa. “How are you feeling?” “I’m fine,” Alec says instinctively.
“Go get changed into something comfy,” Magnus suggests instead of immediately prying into Alec’s day.
Alec nods, slowly making his way to their room to slip into some sweatpants and an old t-shirt before immediately going back to the living room and wordlessly crawling onto the sofa, cuddling up against Magnus so that he’s half-laying across him, head resting on Magnus’ chest.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Magnus asks quietly, fingers threading through Alec’s hair.
“No,” Alec says, but the word lilts up at the end, drawn out a little too much.
“That’s the ‘no’ you say when you’re lying,” Magnus calls him out. He isn’t wrong.
And it isn’t that Alec doesn’t want to talk about things with Magnus, just that it’s so difficult for him to be vulnerable in front of anyone. He feels weak, even if he would never think someone else is weak for doing the same thing. He feels like nothing in his life is wrong enough to warrant what he’s experiencing right now.
Alec tries to think of where to start. His mind is blank, but not the peaceful kind - it’s the kind of blank where there’s so much happening all at once that he can’t pick out any one thing, and his brain stalls, all the while every little thing that’s wrong sounds off in his head until it’s all just deafening static.
He can’t describe that, though, so when Alec does open his mouth to respond what comes out is a broken sob.
He does more crying than talking, and Magnus is perfect throughout the entire thing. He rubs a hand comfortingly up and down Alec’s arm, he listens when Alec does manage to put some of his thoughts into words and shares the silence around Alec’s sniffles when Alec’s words fail him. Every so often Magnus asks a question, trying to help Alec pinpoint specific things that may be bothering him more than others, but mostly he’s just there, grounding and present.
It’s exactly what Alec needs.
He’s never had someone he’s felt comfortable enough to open up to like this before. He can count on one hand the number of times he’s cried in front of people who aren’t Magnus. He doesn’t need any fingers to count the number of people who know as much about him as Magnus does.
And right now, at this moment, being surrounded by all his comfort items while being held by his comfort person is all he needs to feel safe enough to let it all go for a little while. He cries, talks, and cries a little more. They even manage to laugh a little. Magnus peppers frequent kisses onto the top of Alec’s hair and Alec holds onto Magnus a little tighter with every overwhelming wave of emotion to anchor himself.
Finally, with everything out in the open and the last of his tears drying on his cheeks, Alec pries himself away from Magnus.
“Thank you,” Alec says, relief evident in every syllable.
“I barely did anything,” Magnus says.
“You did exactly what I needed,” Alec insists, shifting where he sits so he can bring a hand up to cup the side of Magnus’ face, pulling him in for a soft kiss.
Alec knows his biggest problem is bottling everything up, and he hopes that Magnus realizes how much it means to Alec to have an outlet and, more importantly, a confidant. He remembers countless breakdowns alone in his room, curled up in bed or lying on the floor, lost in the constant spiral of his own thoughts without anyone to help him through them. Just having someone, having Magnus, makes all the difference in the world. 
The world around Alec expects so much from him. His parents expect perfection. The other Shadowhunters expect a confident leader. But Magnus? All Magnus ever expects of him is honesty and love to the best of his ability. To have someone he can turn to and admit that sometimes it all feels too much? It’s priceless. It’s something Alec never imagined having and something he doesn’t take for granted. 
“This was perfect. You are perfect.”
Alec leans against Magnus again, breathing easily once more with the knowledge that every time he starts to feel like he’s breaking, Magnus will be there to hold the pieces until they can put them back together, together.
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some-little-infamy · 1 year
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You Don’t Want What You Saw, but You Saw What You Wanted
(Read on AO3)
Steve never imagined he’d be playing a festival - an honest-to-god popular music festival and not just some local country fair bandstand - in a million years. This is just a fun hobby for him, a side project he hadn’t seriously planned on turning into an actual career. It just sort of happened, the pieces falling into place until one show led to another, and now, well, here he is.
At a festival.
The best part of it all is that he can wander the grounds before and after his set with little-to-no recognition. Wearing a wig and sunglasses on stage started off as a prank of sorts, the aftermath of a lost bet to his best friend Nancy. It worked for him, strangely enough, and turned into a whole thing that he continues to this day. It has the added benefit of making him virtually unrecognizable to casual fans who haven’t managed to track down photos of him without the disguise.
“This is insane,” Jonathan says from a foot in front of him, spinning around to walk backward in front of Steve as he talks.
“Thanks for the tickets,” Nancy adds.
“Yeah, of course,” Steve says, shrugging off the gratitude with an easy smile. There’s no one else he’d rather have here, which is convenient because there’s also no one else he could have as his guest since no one else even knows he’s in a band.
“You two wander, have fun, and I’ll find you after my set, alright?” Steve asks.
“As if we won’t be there,” Nancy says, sounding as enthusiastic as the first time she had the opportunity to see his band live.
Steve shakes his head. Nancy’s seen his set almost as many times as he’s performed it but he can’t blame her for being particularly invested in seeing this one. After all ---
“It’s your first festival, man! We wouldn’t miss it,” Jonathan exclaims.
The two head off in the direction of the main festival stages while Steve glances around to make sure no one’s watching him before ducking back toward the performer staging area. He pulls his badge out from where it’s tucked into his t-shirt, the holographic PERFORMER label shining in the sunlight as security waves him through.
It’s surreal. Steve has to use every single ounce of self-control not to completely lose his mind over the number of musicians he passes from bands he idolizes. These are famous musicians. These are celebrities. He can’t help but feel seriously out of his league here.
The crowd during his set proves otherwise. It’s easily the largest group he’s ever played for, with Nancy and Jonathan loyally at the front singing every word. Not for the first time, Steve reconsiders his decision to perform in a wig as the sun practically bakes him the entire hour he performs, but he’s committed to the vibe at this point and he isn’t about to change it now.
The second Steve gets backstage he takes the wig and sunglasses off, stashing them in his guitar case just in time to turn around and walk directly into someone behind him.
“Shit, sorry-” Steve starts, but the words drop abruptly when he locks eyes with the man he just bumped into.
Eddie Munson. The lead guitarist of Corroded Coffin, and Steve’s current biggest celebrity crush. It isn’t a genre he listens to often, and honestly, it was Eddie’s charisma and presence during interviews and fan meets that really drew Steve’s attention to him and his band. Steve knew Corroded Coffin is playing the festival but he somehow never imagined a scenario where the two of them might actually meet - and now he’s gone and run into the guy.
“No worries,” Eddie easily dismisses, eyeing Decide’s van that Steve just put his guitar case down in front of. “You here with Decide?”
Eddie knows his band.
Steve takes a second for that to sink in. Eddie stands in front of him, black leather pants tucked into black boots, paired with a simple white t-shirt tucked into the waistline. There’s a jean jacket slung over Eddie’s arm, the one he always wears when he performs, and up close Steve can make out some of the well-worn pins and patches.
“Uh, yeah. I… yeah.” Steve manages, cursing his sudden loss of any ability to be suave and debonair.
“I should be the one saying sorry to you then,” Eddie says with a light, amused laugh. “No, that’s mean. I shouldn’t say that. Just because I don’t like them doesn’t mean they aren’t… objectively decent.”
It feels like Steve’s heart plummets into his stomach at the words. Eddie Munson knows his band and hates them. Well, fuck.
It also occurs to Steve that if Eddie’s saying this to him then there’s a solid chance that he has no idea who Steve is, exactly. He probably just thinks Steve’s a random roadie.
“I don’t think they’re that bad,” Steve offers, seizing the opportunity to try and sway Eddie’s opinion.
“And I’ll forgive you that lapse of judgment because you’re hot,” Eddie says with a wink and a smirk. That Munson charm Steve’s seen through a screen countless times is life-altering to hear in person.
Any negative emotions Steve feels over the knowledge that Eddie hates his music are immediately replaced by the rush of endorphins brought about by the fact that Eddie thinks he’s hot. He could die here and now and die happy… or he could live to flirt back, which seems like the superior option. Regaining a little more self-awareness now that most of the shock has settled he couples the offer with the slightest shift in his posture, standing up a little straighter, jutting his hip out slightly, and running a hand through his hair to bring a little life back to the wig-flattened locks.
“You know, I could give you all the inside info on the band you want. Maybe after your set? Over drinks?” Steve offers impulsively, a hopeful smile on his face.
Eddie looks interested and considers the offer. Every millisecond of silence from him feels like a lifetime while Steve waits for a response.
“I’d rather learn about you,” Eddie counters.
“That works, too,” Steve agrees, grinning like a goddamn fool.
“Hey, Munson! We’re on in five, get a move on!”
Steve and Eddie both turn their heads toward Gareth Emerson, another member of Eddie’s band who stands several yards away waving a guitar in the air exasperatedly.
“Duty calls,” Eddie says, turning back to face Steve. “Be here when I get back?”
For the briefest of moments, Steve thinks he sees a flicker of uncertainty on Eddie’s face at the question, but it’s gone as quickly as it appeared.
“Nowhere else I’d rather be,” Steve promises as Eddie leaves to join the rest of his band.
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