kingkonglear
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The air to Robert’s left grows warm, then hot—a concentrated sunlight that finally forces him to glance up.
Flambae’s hovering over the catwalk now, still nothing but a silhouette of fire. No trace of flesh. No trace of bones. Even his eyes are consumed by flames, leading Robert to wonder about the reliability of the man’s vision. He is a floating fiery ghoul, by all accounts.
One who may or may not be able to see.
Even so, the sight is formidable. He’d be impressed—seeing the effect up close like this is different than seeing it through the Mecha Man suit—but the image of the man slipping on a puddle and breaking his tooth on the bar makes it difficult to be anything but vaguely amused.
“If you’re gonna throw me off, could you at least do it in your other form?” Robert asks listlessly. “I’d like to die without third-degree burns, if at all possible.”
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or; dispatch, but flambae is a romance option
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The man was in a suit that almost reminded Robert of something from Cirque du Soleil, all skin-tight, shimmering fabric with bursts of red and orange and a V-neck that showed a lot more than neck. The wrap-around sunglasses didn’t even look that ridiculous.
Infuriatingly, he managed to be beautiful, like a Monet in an Ikea frame is beautiful. He had changed very little in the years since Robert first encountered him, at least physically. Robert couldn’t say the same.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 36,913
- Chapters:
- 9/?
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- 477
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- 1,085
- Bookmarks:
- 256
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Bookmarked by kingkonglear
05 Jan 2026
Bookmarker's Notes
WAITER WAITER !!! ONE MILLION MORE CHAPTERS PLEASE!
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To call Robert's new situation with Flambae ‘complicated’ would be a drastic understatement.
Robert cut his fucking fingers off. Flambae tried to burn him to death after a bar fight. They aren’t good for each other, barely even like each other, and there’s no way it’s going to end well.
But when the sex is this fucking good, Robert is having trouble listening to the logic.
Or, the one where they become fuckbuddies and catch feelings.
(Everyone pretend to be shocked.)
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One of the main characters - the only surviving witness to a murder - has just woken from a coma. Not only is she entirely cognizant, but the first thing that the subtitles say she asks for is a lawyer.
“What are you fucking giggling about?”
The other person that’s been paying attention is Flambae. He’s right next to Robert on the couch, his arm slung over the top behind his head. One foot is propped up on the other knee, also pointing towards Robert, which has him caged in the corner by the arm rest. It’s probably some fucked-up power move. Robert has been ignoring it just to spite him.
“It’s just not how comas work,” Robert shrugs.
“Right, and you know because you’re a fucking doctor,” Flambae quips back.
“I know because I was in one, asshole.”
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During a quiet night in, Robert realizes that his coma and injuries aren't common knowledge among Z-Team.
Most of them take the information in stride with jokes aplenty.
Flambae does not.
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Summary
“I write music for myself, as the best way I can express myself. I share it so none of us are alone.”
It’s 1976 - The Kings’ Men have been broken up for over a year, and Jeremy and his band Odysseys have rocketed into stardom with their debut album. But on the eve of a massive North American tour in support of the record, Odysseys find themselves minus a lead guitarist and Evermore Records are insistent on one particular replacement - Jean Moreau. But first, Jeremy has to get him to agree to it after everything that went down in ‘75.
Being back on the road together brings feelings between Jeremy and Jean surging back, but they also have to contend with a new tour manager who is Jean’s living nightmare, Kevin Day’s new band supporting them, and Jeremy’s past - not to mention the truth about what really happened in ‘75.
As they say - there’s never a dull day in rock ‘n’ roll.
Series
- Part 2 of A Little Left of Heaven