#one shot fic

[starrspice]

So, I'm sharing this little drabble I found of my old Time loop AU idea

Angst lovers enjoy

[paverage-blog]

What Mrs. Hudson Heard - average138 - Sherlock Holmes (1984 TV) [Archive of Our Own]

Woke up with a silly 764-word one shot in my head. Tagging Granada because that's the Mrs. Hudson in my head for this and I adore her.

(You know she put extra mustard on those roast beef sandwiches and loves two madmen as much as we do.)

[boltedfruit]

Read on AO3 or below the cut!

Steve's attempt at a record-breaking gangbang ends up with him flying back to Hawkins to track down number one-ninety-eight. The mystery man who left an impression. - A thumb swipes his lower lip. Breath ghosts along the bite mark on his shoulder. It stings. Steve hopes he drew blood. “I’ll remember this forever, sweetheart.”

Thank you to @cowboythighs for giving me permission to write this fic based on their super fun prompt, which you can read here~

Read the full fic below:

What’s in his fridge?

There’s at least one bag of broccoli, half a container left of that nice parmesan he splurged on…maybe the chicken wings in his freezer are still okay. Hopefully? He still has some of that decadent hickory barbeque sauce. There’s no reason he can’t cover a bit of freezer burn with a healthy dousing of the stuff. He didn’t do the dishes last night, but that’s fine. Has time to run the dishwasher before–

Something vibrates. Loudly.

Someone’s phone is going off in the middle of the shoot.

Steve lifts his head, annoyed that the director hasn’t called cut yet. The man on top of him is dripping sweat, a bead of which narrowly misses landing in his eye. Steve casts a look sideways, hoping to catch the director raising his walkie.

Nope. Still posted up behind his wall of cameras. Stoic as ever, the man watches Steve work.

Steve lets the moment drag, his expectant silence punctuated only by the grunting and groaning of the muscled man pumping away between his spread legs.

More loud vibrations.

He cranes his neck to see over the man’s shoulder, sees the clock over the huddled producers and decides himself it’s time for a break.

Steve presses a hand against the massive chest above him and pushes lightly. The man’s movement falters, stops. Steve meets his eyes with an easy air of I’m the star, get off me, and it does the trick. The behemoth withdraws from Steve’s body with a mutter and wipes the sweat from his red brow as Steve swings his legs over the platform and sits up. He tests his weight, but finds he can still place pressure where he needs to without any pain.

The director shouts something Steve doesn’t hear. Calls back, “Somebody’s phone is going off! It’s ruining the vibe.”

“What phone? I don’t hear a phone,” the director says in his heavy German accent, shrugging in a way that rankles Steve. “We’re almost at two-hundred, surely it can—”

“No, it can’t wait. I need five anyway.” His own assistant appears by his side with a robe.

Steve shrugs it on and heads toward the source of the vibrations. Around him, production comes to a standstill while fluffers and PAs run around tending to the talent.

Steve tracks the phone down in a bag near craft services, but a producer beats him to it. She sheepishly digs out her phone and shuts it off, muttering an apology.

Steve sighs, grabs another cracker and decides to take a much needed bathroom break. On his way, he grabs his own phone and sees a text from Robin.

still good for eight?

I’m only at 197, might be closer to 9 or 10.

big ew, but congrats. should I pick up dessert?

Coffee double dutch choco cake pls?

obvi, my very spoiled friend. have fun you little award winning superslut!

Thx, lov u!

Robin sends back a string of emojis. He finishes up in the bathroom, thinking of all the times he’s been nominated for an AVN but never won. And it’s not like it’s terribly hard. He chooses interesting projects. He works with skilled teams. He stays clear of scandals and keeps his nose figuratively and literally clean of all the seedy underground bullshit that comes with the job.

But best actor still eludes him.

It grinds his gears, or at least the ones he used to have back in high school. The ones driving him to be a better player than everyone else at basketball practice, the ones that pushed him to state championship games three of his four years at Hawkins High. The ones that crowned him prom king and made him a bullshit name for a bullshit time in his life.

It’s his inner machinery, and even though he’s grown up a lot in the last five years, he’s still yet to replace some old rusted parts.

As he returns to set, Steve runs his hands through his hair, pinches both cheeks a little to bring a fresh blush back to the surface. His assistant applies lip gloss as he situates himself back on the black and white platform where he’s been fucked for the last three hours by one-hundred-and-ninety-six men.

He’s aiming for three hundred before dinner. Three-fifty if more than a good chunk of the men left are two-pump chumps. It’s about scheduling.

Steve shifts his weight from one asscheek to another, feels a brief twinge in his lower back. He flips over, stomach pressing against the slim pleather cushion.

It’s almost five.

The director claps his hands, and once Steve is in position, everyone resumes their roles. He gets comfortable on his elbows, cock limp between his legs and showing for the camera. He hears the next guy shuffle up behind him, can hear the shaky breath leave him.

Everyone knows their part to play in this circus, and Steve knows his best of all. He’s front and center, surrounded by a seemingly endless line of men of all ages, shapes and sizes. He’s taken more dick and strap today alone than he probably has in the last few years combined.

He’s going to win best actor, and he’s going to win best gangbang.

The thing about sex work is that it’s like any other job, really. There are good days, long days, fun days, days that drive him up the fucking wall. There are times he’s excited, nervous, bored out of his skull. Most shoots he books last a day or two, and hardly ever does one last more than a week, tops. This isn’t his first gangbang scene, but it is a record breaker for him, and several others in the industry as far as he’s researched.

But so far it’s been a lot of the same. Almost two hundred men and he hasn’t held a steady erection since an hour in and now he’s been daydreaming while giving tried and true sultry looks to the camera, fake moans of practiced pleasure leaving his throat.

Steve’s good at his job.

He’s been doing it since his parents cut him off and kicked him out at eighteen. He moved to LA and lived in his car until Robin graduated and followed him to the big city. It was exhilarating at first, fun. These days, at twenty-three, he’s mostly just bored.

And he knows better than to ignore an ache. If he holds one position for too long, he’ll be wrecked for a week. He’s big enough of a name now he can negotiate a lot of his contracts, and so he always gets control over how he’s positioned. The cameras can figure it out from there.

“And…action!”

Steve pouts for the camera in front of him, parts his freshly glossed lips and crosses his eyes a little. He never got the cross-eyed thing, but it’s apparently a huge kink for some.

Fingertips tickle over his ass, lead to palms lightly petting his hips. Steve wiggles for the man he can’t see, encouraging and coaxing as he goes to his knees and leans back. Wants to be grabbed, manhandled. Add the potential for a little healthy bruising and the audience eats it up.

But that doesn’t happen. Instead, he hears a breathy sigh from behind him, and then the sound of spit a second before he feels it hitting his hole. It drips down slowly, painting him wet, and Steve keens for the lens trained on his face.

The thing about this shoot is that it’s been a nightmare to plan. A year to put together a schedule, another six months to find the talent. There’s been cancellations, reschedules, a few deaths even, more casting, issues with health insurance and testing dates. Steve’s been along for it all, because this is his project. His idea, his brainchild.

All for one day.

One day to break some records. Prove to himself he can do this. That what he does can win awards and not only nominations.

After that he can take a very, very long break.

The hand rubs up and down his spine, firm and sure. Applies a little pressure at the lumbar and Steve actually lets out a small moan. It’s nice. He might set up a massage for tomorrow.

The camera swings wide, leaves Steve’s face and gives him some breathing room. The hand on his back remains while the other presses two fingers to his hole. He’s stretched, lubed beyond the meaning of the word even before the spit. There’s no need to finger him open.

But he receives a gentle probing with two fingers, a few deep, slow strokes that press in search with what seems to be a practiced touch. Steve rolls his hips back. Takes a few tries, but when the extra finds his prostate, he gasps, drives back to meet that zing of electricity again and again.

“God, just look at you,” the extra whispers. “Can’t wait to feel you. I’m so lucky.”

Steve moans. Not so fake this time. He drops his head, catches sight of lightly haired thighs covered in scribbly tattoos. He doesn’t even take into account the size of the man behind him, too focused on his own swiftly filling erection.

Huh.

It’s not like it’s a requirement or anything, by contract or personal preference of his scene partners. A lot of the time the bottom isn’t hard. Not exactly fair, but a limp bottom does not a film break, or whatever. More than a few of the men who have been inside him today have paid him plenty of attention, even tried for longer than Steve felt necessary. But they were all here to do a job, and that was to film a gangbang scene with Steve as the gangbangee. Hard or limp, he just wanted them to finish in him so they could get the shot and all go home to a nice hot shower.

“You’re gorgeous, y’know that?”

Though dirty talk was common, it wasn’t in the script for this shoot. And it wasn’t the usual lead-in of fuck yeah, look at your puffy hole, you take it so well, you’re like a bitch in heat, take that shit, take it like a whore.

“That’s it, baby, relax for me.”

It’s sweet…it’s kind. Things a lover would say.

Another strike of lightning burns him from the inside out, and Steve lets out a breath he’d been holding.

The hand at his back glides down, calloused fingers smoothing over his skin, until the director calls for penetration.

Steve wants to snap at him to shut the hell up. This is fine. More than fine, even. His prostate hasn’t exactly been the star of the show today, and a little pleasure makes his job that more enjoyable.

The fingers leave, and in their place frustration grows. That is, until the blunt head of another cock is pressing against him–no, dragging. The man is rubbing himself over Steve’s hole. Isn’t shoving in and taking like all the others.

More spit hits his rim , makes him startle. The hand on his back draws circles to settle him like a spooked horse.

This isn’t lovemaking. This is a scene. Steve huffs at himself, thinks just stick it in already, dude.

The extra’s hands slide from his back to his hip, his other hand joining in and pulling Steve’s weight, using Steve’s own body to slide inside. Steve groans. The guy’s big, thick. Should have paid better attention while he had his head down.

“Knew you could take it, Harrington,” he says softly, and Steve almost misses it when the man whines as he bottoms out. Fingers dig into his sides, tight but not bruising. “Pictured it a little different, but a guy can’t complain.”

So the guy’s got a fantasy, that’s fine. A lot of the talent cast for this production expressed a desire to work with Steve. Came with the territory, and the long filmography.

But something about this man hits him a little different. His words have him melting enough to feel warmth build, begin to spread.

His legs are tingling, insides burning with the stretch and latent pleasure. He wants more.

He grinds his hips back, trying to put his weight into it. The man moans low and finally, finally, starts moving his hips. Drags Steve back on every thrust.

“Jesus, you’re so–so–” Another drawn-out moan and the man collapses along Steve’s back. He’s slim, but his arms are strong as they wind around Steve’s waist. More tattoos. Bats in flight, stretched faces with sharp teeth. Long hair tickles over his shoulder as the man noses along the back of his neck “You feel like a dream.”

It’s quiet. Quiet enough Steve knows the cameras won’t pick it up. It’s just for Steve, and that sends his blood rushing, dick kicking as tension builds in his belly.

“Shit,” he grinds out, feels drool slip from his open mouth to pool on the black pleather underneath. “Oh, God.”

“That’s it. Wanna make you feel good, sweetheart. Come on. You deserve to feel good.”

He’s so hard he’s aching. Feels the weight of himself slap his stomach on each ever harder, deeper thrust.

Steve’s going to come. He’s actually going to come.

“Just knew you’d be so good for me. Could tell the first day I ever saw you. Wanted you forever. And look what you’ve accomplished,” he babbles, Steve’s heart growing three sizes, “You’ve changed the industry. You showed LA who’s king.” A particularly deep thrust has his elbows giving out. The man effortlessly braces his abrupt fall, a calloused hand snaking up to pillow his jaw. Steve is vaguely aware of the camera in front of them both, but he couldn’t care less if he tried right now. It feels too good. Feels better than anything all day, all month, all year. To the cameras, it must look like Steve’s being choked, but it’s the farthest thing from it. He’s being held, kept safe. “Always knew you’d go places. Get everything you wanted and more. I was actually jealous, and look at us now. Can’t believe how lucky I am.”

Steve’s cursing, praying, something as he’s pressed into the pleather. Now, his cock is trapped, facing backward so every time the man draws out and pushes back in, their cocks drag for a brief moment of bliss. The cherry on top. Neat trick.

“Never thought I–never even dreamed–”

A gasp, a flash of teeth in skin and Steve is coming with a shout, flexing his ass to get more, more.

He feels warmth spread hot and wet inside him and knows this will only last another moment or two. He needs to turn around. To see the man that just took him apart without touching his cock. Needs to–

A thumb swipes his lower lip. Breath ghosts along the bite mark on his shoulder. It stings.

Steve hopes he drew blood.

“I’ll remember this forever, sweetheart.”

The director shouts something Steve doesn’t hear. Can’t comprehend past the pleasant hum buzzing inside him.

But then the weight on his back is gone, the cock inside him slips free and with it a spurt of come. Cameras circle back around to catch the aftermath, hears a muttered nice from some crewmember when they see the twin puddle beneath himself.

He rolls his eyes, safe to do with no coverage on his face.

He feels so empty. Cold begins to creep in.

Steve blinks quickly. Why is his throat suddenly so tight?

Then another man approaches, is lifting his hips up, is pushing in with absolutely zero patience or attention paid to Steve at all. And that’s fine. It is.

They’re on a schedule, after all.

-

“Yippee!” Steve claps when Robin sets the plate of cake before him.

She joins him on the couch, a forkful of her own piece of cake already in her mouth. “I don’t know how you’re even sitting right now.”

“It’s honestly not that bad.”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full.”

“Look who’s literally talking.”

Robin pulls her own fork free and sticks her tongue out. “Seriously though, you sure you don’t need anything? A heating pad? Ointment? Therapy?”

“Ha ha. I already took care of what I needed to–stop making that face, oh my God. I’m just dandy, Robs, don’t worry. I want to veg out and watch tv for the next six months and gain like twenty pounds.”

“You are too skinny.”

“My point exactly.”

“But, still like. Wow.”

“I know.”

“Three-hundred sixty-eight guys. Whole ass men were inside you today. That has to be a health issue for the community or something, right? How are your insides not melting out of you right now? I should have laid down a towel to protect your precious piece of shit couch.”

“You’re so funny, and it’s our precious piece of shit couch.” But even so, Steve preens a little. He did it. He broke his goal and then some. “I’m gonna win that goddamn award if it kills me.”

He looks over when she doesn’t answer. Robin is looking down at her plate.

They’ve had this argument before.

“I’m taking a break,” he says, reaching for her hand. She squeezes, and he squeezes back. “Promise.”

Robin nods. “So,” she says, shaking herself from the momentary tension, “you mentioned one guy was unique. I’m almost afraid to ask.”

He snorts. “Why?”

“I mean, was he like eighty or something? Was he dressed all in latex with one of those gas masks? Did he have two dicks or what?”

Steve laughs, drops her hand to grab a pillow, and throws it at her instead.

Then he tells her.

In as much detail as she can handle, anyway.

“Did you get his number?” Robin asks, and frowns when Steve shakes his head no. “What about a name?”

“It was kind of a rush, an in the moment kind of thing. Wasn’t really time for a lot of talking.”

“Oh my God, Steve.”

And then, his best friend in the entire world has an absolutely batshit idea.

-

He gets the call sheet from his favorite producer, an easy going older man with decades of experience in the industry. He doesn’t ask questions.

Three days later, Steve's got a list of three-hundred-and-sixty-eight names, including himself and the crew. Beneath the call sheet is a packet of numbers and addresses.

It might be a crazy idea…but Steve’s one of the world’s leading gay adult film stars. He can afford to be a little crazy.

So when his sabbatical officially begins, Steve starts calling.

-

The first thing he tries is going down to number one-ninety-eight. That makes sense, and even Robin had agreed.

But the man who answered was a fifty with a slightly higher voice than he remembers. He quickly thanked Steve for the experience, and the paycheck, but explained he didn’t have any tattoos. He was afraid of needles.

Steve huffs, crossing the name and number off.

His guy was definitely younger than that, had a deep, smooth voice. Had ink that looked homemade from a glance.

The list he has is in no discernible order. It’s neither numerical nor alphabetical. He checks the first few addresses and finds it has nothing to do with location, either.

So he calls each and every single person. Actually blocks out time to do it around breaks and lunch, time spent with Robin which they both agree is long overdue.

After a week and a half of calls, Robin drags him to the beach for an afternoon of sunbathing and people watching.

“I don’t know, Robin. I already crossed off the guys I know, the ones I’ve seen in other projects. But I’ve still got over a hundred people left.”

“Says the guy who wanted to bang over three hundred guys. This is your own fault.”

“I know,” he agrees, swirling his fingers through the sand. “I’m just…I don’t know. Worried, I guess.”

“Why?”

“What if he thinks I’m a freak for tracking him down? What if he wants nothing to do with me?”

Robin snorts. He looks her way, sees her nose and cheeks are red from the sun despite her large sunhat. Her toes are dug into the sand, and the book she’d been reading lays forgotten on her stomach.

“Don’t sell yourself short, Steve. From what you told me, it sounded like he had a little crush.”

“Yeah, but that could have been my filmography talking. Lot of guys say I’m on their shortlist of dream lays. It’s like a fantasy thing for them.”

“Disgusting. Absolutely abhorrent,” she says easily. “But you said your guy was different. You think it was just an act?”

“I couldn’t tell. He seemed…sweet. If that makes sense?” Steve shrugs, hands her the bottle of sunscreen. “You need another layer. You’re turning into a tomato, birdie.”

She cups her hands, and he squeezes a dollop out. As she rubs the lotion into her skin, she seems to consider what he’s said.

“How sweet can an actor in a gangbang be?”

“You’d be surprised.”

“Then you have to keep at it. You have to keep calling until you find him. You may strike out more often than not when it comes to dating, but you have, like, a good good people radar.”

“What does that mean?”

“I mean, you naturally attract decent people,” Robin says, smiling. “Take me, for example! I’m the best person you know.”

Heat climbs his face, settling at the tips of his ears. He sinks further into the beach foldout, embarrassed for a reason he can’t name. Robin’s smile turns knowing before softening into something closer to friendly pity.

Robin drops her book in the sand and stands, grabs Steve’s hand and starts pulling him toward the water’s edge.

“Come on, sourpuss, let’s go swim!”

-

He’s down to five people.

The phone numbers they gave were either disconnected or, more likely, fake. So he has no choice, really.

He decides to fully embrace his apparent new level of creepy stalker and physically visits their listed address.

The first three people are surprised but happy to see him, and he ends up sharing beers with two of them, but all three are very clearly not the person he’s looking for. The fourth is nice enough, if wary, but is in his forties and is trans. Is all too happy to show Steve the strap he used on the day. So that rules him out.

There’s one address left, and honestly Steve had been hoping it was a fluke. A mistake.

Because the address is in Hawkins, Indiana. His hometown.

He never chose a stage name, a mistake that many a producer and actor used to lecture him on in the first couple of years he was in the business. But he made it his own. It worked. His parents haven’t contacted him since he was kicked out, so if they know about his career choice, Steve isn’t aware. He prefers it that way.

He always imagined he’d send them a photo of him smiling with his AVN award when he finally won. A final, brief fuck you and career announcement all in one.

Needless to say he hasn’t been back to Hawkins once since he moved to LA. And though he isn’t shy about his legal name, Steve has never discussed his past, his childhood. Nobody in the industry that is legally allowed to discuss his association with Hawkins never has, because they simply don’t know.

Steve’s honestly a bit surprised nobody he used to know has reached out in the last five years. He knows Tommy at least frequented the sites his agency posts to. Nowadays, gay and straight films can be found in the same tags, same pages. Even if someone didn’t go looking for gay porn, they still might have come across Steve in something. An ad, even.

But no, nothing.

He’s not ashamed of what he does. He hasn’t actively avoided his past or anything. If anything, he’s simply strived to not care about it. It doesn’t matter. He hasn’t seen a Hawkins address in years.

Until now.

It’s weird. Could be some kind of underhanded prank. Maybe he should call his lawyer and tell him to expect some sort of blackmail soon.

The last four have led him to the neighboring cities around Los Angeles, but he’s not had to leave California yet. And being back in Indiana has him off his feet. Wrongfooted in some small way that leaves him feeling like a stranger. An impersonator.

He left small town life behind and made it big in a way that would have had every gossiping homebody’s heads turning if they knew.

Half expects to burst into flame the second he steps foot within city bounds.

But nothing happens. His rental car keeps driving. The turn off the highway is familiar, second nature.

He pulls into Hawkins and follows the directions parroted to him by his GPS. He notices several new fast-food places, the old mall has been redone, some houses seem bigger–but it’s still the same small, old town.

He comes to a crossroads. Left to Forest Hills Trailer Park where he’s never been, or right to what would eventually lead to Loch Nora and his childhood home.

He takes a left.

The trailer park isn’t huge, but each home has a small yard. He drives through a winding road that’s half gravel until he finds number fifty-three.

He parks, gets out and stands. Butterflies swarm his stomach, his palms sweating.

Steve gives himself a silent pep talk and walks up the short drive to the front door.

He knocks twice and waits.

It’s getting colder in Indiana. A few more weeks and there might be the first fall of snow. Back in California it was eighty-six degrees when he boarded the plane. He shivers.

Steve jumps a little when the door opens, the screen between him and an older man who frowns down at him.

“And who are you?”

“Hi! Hello. My name is Steve. I, um. Is there a Wayne Munson here by any chance?”

Steve steadies himself, tries to calm his rising nerves. He steps back to make room as the man opens the screen door and steps out into the early afternoon light.

“That would be me, son. Can I help you? You look a little lost.”

It’s not him.

Not his guy.

Steve’s stomach drops. Feels a little sick to his stomach.

The voice isn’t the same. It’s low, sure, but rougher with age. And Steve remembers the tickle of long hair along his skin. This man, Wayne Munson, is balding.

Unless he wore a wig…then, maybe…

He rechecks that this trailer is indeed number fifty-three.

“No, I uh. This is the place. This is going to sound strange, but I don’t suppose you have any tattoos?”

Wayne huffs. He pulls up his sleeve and shows Steve a faded old tattoo, a blue cross with blown out edges.

“Just the one.”

Steve nods, disheartened. “I see. Okay. I, uh, thanks for your time. I’ll just go–”

He turns, feeling foolish.

“Kid, wait a minute. Come on inside and warm up. You drink coffee?”

Steve debates. He’s cold, sure, but that’s an issue fixed by turning around and driving back to the airport to hop on a plane back to California.

Staying could turn out badly. Hawkins was never friendly to outsiders, and the rumor mill sprinted when it came to talk of things like sin and violating the good word of the Lord.

Steve’s pretty sure being a porn star is hidden somewhere in there.

And it was never a secret in backwoods like these people tended to dole out their own justice. Some kids were killed in Indy for being gay and working corners. Why not here, in the home of a man Steve doesn’t know?

He puts on his best smile. “That would be great, sir.”

The man drops his eyes to the ground, waves a hand at him. “Please, enough of that. I’m just Wayne. Always have been, always will be. Come on in, it’s not getting any warmer out here.”

Steve shuffles inside, thanking him. “Looks ready to snow soon.”

“Ah, another week or two I think. You from around here?”

“Used to be,” Steve says as Wayne gestures for him to sit on a stool at the kitchen counter. “I moved to California a few years back.”

“Hm.” Wayne starts a fresh pot of coffee, old-fashioned kettle on the stove. Steve’s grown used to his Keurig. “Big place compared to here. How d’you like it?”

“It’s busy. I’ve gotten used to it.”

“I imagine there’s always something for doing.”

Steve nods. “You’re right.”

“What d’you do for work out there? I’ve heard it’s all tech companies and wannabe actors.”

Steve runs a hand through his hair. “Well, actually…I’m an actor.”

“Ah, geez. Don’t mind me, it’s the stereotype.”

“No offense taken,” Steve says. “It’s kind of the reason I’m here.”

“Do tell.”

“It’s kind of embarrassing. I had this big, uh. Film. Scene. A big scene. It required a lot of background actors. Extras, you know?” Wayne nods. Steve is flubbing this big time, Christ. “I kind of hit it off with one of the–one of them. Fell a little in love if I’m being honest. My best friend, she had this crazy idea to get the call sheet and go down the list to see if I could find him.”

Wayne’s eyes go a little wide and it’s only when the kettle starts whistling that Steve realizes his slip up.

But Wayne beats him to it. He takes the kettle off the burner and starts fixing two cups of coffee. Says, “Young love’s hard to come by, kid. I’ve been telling my boy for years now, if ya find somebody worth chasing, you run. Doesn’t matter the obstacles, if they’re a boy or girl. Just run to em.”

“That’s…that’s really good advice,” Steve mutters, surprised and relieved when Wayne doesn’t seem to have a problem with him. “Means a lot, being from here.”

“Me, I’m from back south, but Hawkins is home. Strange as it is to hear, this town’s actually progressive compared to where I grew up. But there’s still work to do, that’s for damn sure.”

Wayne reaches into a cabinet and brings down a bottle of liquor Steve recognizes all too well. Good quality bourbon. Steve doesn’t miss the healthy pour that goes into each mug.

“Good for warmin’ up,” Wayne says as he passes one mug to Steve. He goes for the fridge next and pulls out a half eaten chocolate cake. “You fancy a piece? My boy whipped it up, but I told him like hell he expects me to finish it on my own.”

“Oh, I don’t want to take up your time–”

“You’d be doing me a favor,” Wayne cuts in, smiling in a way his parents never did. Kind, warm. Real.

Steve relaxes the rest of the way, the tension leaving him all at once. Wayne Munson’s a good guy.

“I’d love one.”

-

“...and I told my boy, I said, if music is what you wanna do, you go and do it. Convinced him to get his GED and get out of dodge. School was never much of a Munson family pastime, anyway.”

“God, yeah. I hated school. I barely graduated, and that was still a few months after I got kicked out.”

Wayne shakes his head, takes a sip of his beer. They’re sitting on the front porch, watching the sun begin its slow descent. Steve almost forgot how pretty Indiana skies could be.

“I knew your folks, y’know. Back in high school. Forgive me for saying it, but your father was a real piece of work.”

Steve can’t help the bitter sound that leaves him. “Trust me, I know.”

“Can’t stand a parent dumping their kid on the world like that. More like dumping the world on their kid. Real life is tough shit. If you love your children, you don’t just abandon them to figure it out for themselves.”

Steve hums. Takes a chance. “It sounds like you’re talking from experience?”

Wayne scowls out into the distance. “It was just me and Al for a long time. Our parents weren’t around much, and when they were they weren’t the best. We all did what we could.” He shakes his head again, meets Steve’s eyes. “Just a shame Al turned out exactly like our old man. Couldn’t spot respectable if it bit him on the balls.”

Steve laughs again.

Wayne lifts his beer and points out to the gravel road. “‘Bout time!”

Steve looks out and watches an old beat-up van wind down the road, music getting louder the closer it gets.

“You’ve got company! You should have said. You’ve been so kind, I’ll get out of your hair.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Wayne tells him good-naturedly. “That’s just my boy. Owes me dinner since I’ve cooked the last few.” Adds when the van is parking behind Steve’s rental, “You should stick around for supper. He makes a mean lasagna.”

“I really should…”

Then Steve sees him.

Wayne’s boy, who he’d assumed at first was his son but learned was the nephew he took in after his brother fucked up somewhere along the way.

Steve’s throat goes dry.

The music cuts off as the van door opens and out hops a man with wild black curls tied up into a mess of a bun. He’s not even looking their way as he hip checks the door closed and walks back to the double doors. He swings them open, grabs a duffle, many bags of groceries baring the local Krogers logo, and a large glass casserole dish that looks far too fragile to be balancing the way it is. Before he closes the doors again, a large orange tabby hops out and winds around his legs, rubbing and trotting after its owner as he heads up the drive.

“Sorry I’m late, old man. Store was packed, and then Garfield here didn’t want to��Oh.”

He slows when he sees his uncle has company. Stops completely when his eyes land on Steve.

The guy’s young, could be a few years on either side of Steve’s age. He’s wearing all black denim, complete with chains and large belt buckle. His knuckles are tattooed and Steve wonders where else he has them.

And he’s familiar is the thing.

And isn’t that funny?

Because back in school. Steve would play reckless and brash. He’d skip school, get in plenty of fights he always lost. Made friends with the wrong crowd and got into enough trouble. And he would wonder, in the way only a closeted bisexual boy could in the Midwestern US, what it would be like to run away with someone a little older, a little rougher, a little more mean. Someone who knew more about the world. Who didn’t give a shit about kid stuff like Steve used to, like reputation and dating and getting into girls’ pants as much as possible. On being the best all-American athlete he could so others would think, wow, that Steve Harrington sure is going places.

He would wonder, in profound secrecy and silence and repression, what it would be like to kiss someone like the man stood before him under the shade of a tall tree in the woods behind his house. What it might be like to touch another boy and not have to be afraid to death of the idea.

The large cat, Garfield, rubs up along Steve’s legs then. Walks a figure eight between them and yowls to be paid attention to. Steve reaches down to pet between his ears, is vaguely aware of the two other men talking to one another, of Wayne explaining why Steve is here, who Steve even is.

And Steve knows this guy. He does.

He’s got long hair. Tattoos, maybe more hidden away. Has plush lips and flushed cheeks from standing in the cold with arms weighed down by too many things, and, and–

“You’re–”

“I’m Steve,” Steve says, straightens back up and holds out his hand. “Steve Harrington.”

The other man gawks. A bag slips from his fingers and a tub of cream cheese goes rolling right back down the small incline.

“Jesus, boy,” Wayne’s muttering, walking down to help with the groceries. He grabs the serving dish first, then heads for the runaway cream cheese. “Where’d your manners go? Introduce yourself!”

Wayne grumbles as he heads after the thing.

Steve’s hand is grasped, shaken, held. Steve smiles. Wants to roll up the long sleeves to see if he’s covered in the bats he saw during filming.

“I’m Eddie,” Eddie says, breathes really.

And oh wow. Wow.

Steve doesn’t let go, and neither does Eddie.

“I heard you make a mean lasagna.”

A smile splits Eddie’s pretty mouth. “That so? I wonder who said that.”

“Somebody who loves his nephew a whole lot.”

“Huh, no idea. Could you clue me in?”

Steve steps closer. “Think a little harder? Maybe you forgot.”

“Maybe,” Eddie says, and though it’s soft, it’s undeniable. “Always forgetting things, that’s me.”

It’s him.

Wayne passes them by again, taking another bag from Eddie’s hands. Eddie sets the rest down at their feet, sparkling, dark eyes never leaving Steve’s.

“Steve here’s an actor. Eddie, weren’t you telling me you had a gig down in LA with the band a few weeks back? What a coincidence, that.” He keeps walking.

Steve watches him go inside, Garfield hopping happily after him.

When he turns back around, Eddie’s close enough he can feel his breath.

Steve glances at his lips. Sees them bend with amusement.

“It’s funny.”

“What is?”

“King Steve, here in my uncle’s humble abode. What a surprise.”

King Steve is as close a moniker he’s ever received working in the industry. An irony that’s followed him from high school into adulthood, even though the two weren’t connected.

And something inside Steve breaks apart, blooms, shines.

It’s him.

Eddie reaches up, traces a thumb along his bottom lip.

“I think we’ve met.”

“I think you’re right.”

“Care to stay for some homemade cooking, your liege? I think we have a lot to talk about.”

The thumb at his lip dips, goes inside his mouth, briefly makes contact with Steve’s tongue. He wants to suck on it, wants to do a whole lot more.

“We definitely do.”

Eddie’s hand falls away. He picks up a few bags and lets Steve take the others.

And as Steve follows Eddie Munson, his mystery guy, inside it hits him all at once. A punch to the solar plexus.

Just knew you’d be so good for me. Could tell the first day I ever saw you.

He knows him.

You showed LA who’s king.

Not just from the shoot.

“Oh my God, I know you! We know each other!”

Eddie Munson, the guy who walked over lunch tables and caused a scene. The guy Tommy shoved into lockers. The guy who dealt at every party. The guy who wore denim and leather and was in a band. The guy Steve watched, who watched him right back.

Wanted you forever.

I was actually jealous, and look at us now.

Can’t believe how lucky I am.

I’ll remember this forever, sweetheart.

And Steve hurries in after him as Eddie’s knowing, familiar laughter leads the way.

[aspenxlabyrinth]

Collapse

Hi there! My name is Aspen, and this is a repost of my one-shot whump fic of Dick Grayson (Nightwing) struggling against Mad Hatter’s control. If you’re interested, a link to my Ao3 account is on my profile, have a great day!

—

A heavy pulse thundered in his ears, alongside searing pain in a tight band around his head and the shrill screeching that rang discordantly with his usual tinnitus. Somewhere beyond the agony and chaos in his mind, there were voices loudly arguing. About what, Dick wasn't entirely sure. His mind and energy were being spent on fighting whatever was putting him through this Hell.

Focus. Focus. How did I get here? What happened just before the pain?

All he could remember was being directed by Oracle to follow up on a report, but everything else was becoming increasingly hazy.

Okay. If the "Before" is too hard, try to figure out the now.

Even if the pain wouldn't subside, temporary reprieve could come from focusing on the other sensations in his body. Dick looked around to see a concrete floor... dark walls... and the symbol that's haunted every nightmare, as well as every dream of hope he's had since childhood, the bat symbol. A familiar red helmet stood out to the side. Bruce and Jason.

He could feel cold concrete on his cheek, and colder air on his head and face. The familiar feeling of his suit contrasted strongly with the unfamiliar and heavy feeling of his arms bound to his chest - is this a straight jacket? Who put him in a straight jacket? Was he a prisoner somewhere?

Outside the ringing and the pounding in Dick's ears, Jason's raised voice clashed with Bruce's, and what sounded like other jumbled and unseen voices from slightly further away echoes behind.

I won't worry about the other senses... okay... my hair is gone, I'm in a straight jacket, I'm on the floor, I'm in a closed off and dark room, and Bruce and Jason are arguing.

Dick was in no state to put the pieces together, as his head pain erupted into something far more severe, eliciting a cry of shock and a jerk of pain from him. Even thrashing on the ground, someone with strong hands managed to sit Dick upright. Who was he looking at? The haziness that came from the ear-splitting ringing and now truly thunderous headache brought a level of disorientation that Dick wasn't used to. He saw the color red, but that was all he could make out.

A voice that sounded as if it was underwater spoke to him, definitely coming from the mass of red in front of him.

"Dick! Snap out of it! Tell us where Hatter's chip is and we'll get it off of you."

Dick? Hatter? Who are they? No. Dick is me. I am Dick. God this hurts...

A strange feeling that resembled dread settled in Dick's stomach the moment the voice had finished speaking. So did a sense of jealousy, although he couldn't identify why he was feeling either at the sound of a voice that sounded as if it wanted to help him. Regardless, he couldn't bring himself to do much of anything.

Why do I feel afraid? Why can't I answer? Who would I be answering?

A new, very clear voice rang through his head.

In front of you is the man who replaced you, who made you worthless to the person you trusted most.

Worthless...? I haven't felt worthless since - Jason. Jason replaced me.

That's right. Jason Todd. The Red Hood. The second Robin. The better Robin.

No... that's wrong. Jason is... something else. Wait. Who is Jason?

"Dick! Are you listening to me? I know it hurts, come on tell me how to help you! We can't get the chip if you don't tell us where it is, we don't have time here! It's me, Jason! Come on, you only have to respond for a second!" The red mass in front of Dick disappeared, and instead was the face of a man with dark, concerned and angry eyes. Dark hair too. Except for that white in the front. When did Jason get white hair again? Who is Jason?

Submit, Nightwing. Submit to my command and I will ensure Jason Todd is served justice for what he did to you.

Very suddenly, a new pain, far more extreme than the pain in his head, cracked and splintered through his leg. Dick let out a pained yell, but for a moment, his mind was cleared.

"DICK! Where did Hatter put the chip?" Jason had gripped the collar of the straight jacket and was desperately screaming in Dick's face.

"Jason? I don't know what you're-"

"MAD HATTER!!! The mind control chip, where is it?!"

Dick's memory cleared in that instant. He could remember earlier that afternoon, when Babs had told him about the Mad Hatter sighting, and where to go. He could remember sneaking his way there, and watching the crazed Jervis Tetch from a distance. And he could remember being strapped down, before that thing had been implanted, and passing out from the pain of that procedure.

"Fuck, I don't know! But they were cutting into my-" The pain, the ringing, and the pounding returned with a violent force all at once. "AGH, my head!"

"Bruce it's in his head, tell them and get a surgeon in here NOW!"

They don't truly care, Nightwing. You know that. Batman only wants his weapon. He's not going to save you because he wants you alive. He doesn't care. And the Red Hood only thinks he cares, because Batman is telling him to. I can handle both of them. Just submit, Nightwi-

"Dickie, I know it hurts but you've gotta listen to me. There's a surgeon on his way. We'll get that thing out of you. I swear I'd cut in myself if I knew for sure it wouldn't kill you. You've gotta hang on." A man was in front of Dick again, speaking softly this time, but desperately nonetheless. Who was it?

"Keep him out of your head, Dick. If you give in, I don't know for sure if we can get you back, and you can't do that to us."

Do you see? He only cares for their benefit.

Exhaustion was setting in, and with it, the ringing and throbbing seemed to dull. It would be so easy to just sleep, and let the pain, and the confusion go away. The man in front of him was shouting at him in what was easily identifiable as rage, and still concern. Dick figured even if he didn't know who he was talking to, he at least owed him some kind of response.

"Us...?" was all Dick managed to get out.

"Oh come on Dickie, yes, us. Bruce, me, Tim, Damian, Barbara, Starfire for Christ's sake!"

Fragments of images flashed through Dick's mind. Most passed by without much recognition. A few, however, brought images to his mind that almost stopped all of his pain altogether. Wholly green eyes, orange skin and red hair. Ginger hair, glasses, and a wheelchair. Comfort and familiarity in both.

All lies, Nightwing. Don't fall prey to a false sense of safety. Submit to my command.

That exhaustion crept in once again, providing more relief from the pain, but seemingly even more deprivation of his memories and mental function.

"Dick! Come on stay with me!"

"Who are you...?"

"Shit. Dick, it's me. It's Jason. Come on! We met after I tried to take the wheels off of Batman's car!"

"No... that... that was Robin..."

The blue eyes in front of him were growing more frantic every second. Dick felt bad for the man, and wished he could help him.

"Yes, Dick. That's me. I was Robin after you. Remember? After you were Robin-"

"Jason was..."

"That's right! Me! I'm Jason."

"Jason didn't have white hair... Jason was Robin. Jason didn't dress like you either, and was much younger. Jason..." Dizziness and exhaustion were already overwhelming Dick's senses, but there was now a heavy feeling of anger and grief accompanying them, swirling in his mind and crushing his heart. "Jason is dead."

That's right. These people seek to deceive you. Submit.

"Shit shit shit... Yes, I died, but I came back! Please remember, please! Stay with me Dick. I swear to God if you make me have to explain this to everyone I will never forgive you. Shit! Where is Bruce with that surgeon?! Dick come on just stay with me, talk to me, tell me how you're feeling right now."

"Who's... Dick...?" There was too much going on. Too much ringing, too much pounding, too much light, too much yelling... it was all too much.

It would be so, so easy to just sleep. Anything to put a stop to the pandemonium and agony in his head. Anything to distract from the pain in his leg, or the rawness of his throat from screaming.

I can give you that relief. Submit.

Submit. That'd been said a few times... the pleading and distraught man he'd been talking to didn't seem to want him to go to sleep, but surely he must not know how much pain he's in. This other voice wanted him to rest, and wanted the pain to go away.

I don't know who either of these voices are... I don't know who Dick is... or Nightwing for that matter... I can't seem to remember where I am, or why I'm in pain. But I can't fill in the gaps when my mind and this room are spinning like this. Sleep will help. Sleep will help the pain, and I'll figure all of this out when I wake up.

Jason shook Dick violently by the collar of the straight-jacket when he watched Dick's eyes roll back into his skull, and a feeling of both terror and grief flooded his veins when the eyes of the man in his arms rolled back into focus in an expression that looked nothing like the brother that should have been there.

[ecstarry]

pls tell me if someone will actually want to read this

I'm writing this one shot where Reg and Barty where childhood sweethearts, but they lose contact once Regulus leaves France. Only to reconect a decade later but once again parting ways because they just couldn't make it work. When James comes into Regulus' life he falls, deeply, and makes a life with him. Another ten years pass them by and Barty is visiting, and sweet and perfect James encourages Regulus to meet with him. They talk about their past, their present but not the future.

James starts feeling insecure about 'been in the way of a great love story' unable to see just how beautiful their own story is. But still wants to see this side of Regulus.

Eventually they part ways once more, with the knowledge that this life was not meant for Barty and him, but for James and Regulus.

[mel-loly]

(Grupo MKS, One Shots/MKS Group, One Shots)

↓ To PDF file

Link

Branco/White: Português/Portuguese

Laranja/Orange: Inglês/English

“D” para David (novo personagem), “A” para Axel e “M” pra Mel-Loly.  /“D” for David (new character), “A” for Axel and “M” for Mel-Loly.

⚠️Aviso⚠️: É um pouco cringe, e tem melancolía e racismo. Também não recomendo ler se você realmente não gosta de coisas “muito carinhosas/relações melosas”. /⚠️Warning⚠️: It's a bit cringe, and has melancholy and racism. I also don't recommend reading it if you really don't like “very affectionate/mushy relationships” things.

“O Reencontro de Ex-Colegas/The Reunion of Former Colleagues”

Era um dia normal na vida dos MKS.. Todos estavam a fazer suas coisas, ou na verdade, se distraindo já que não tinham nenhuma situação de perigo acontecendo. /It was a normal day in the lives of MKS... Everyone was doing their things, or in fact, distracting themselves since there was no dangerous situation happening.

Basicamente: Charlie com os seus planos e Pinkobot ajudando ele. SproutOliver fazendo almoço enquanto Sharon e seu namorado(Nicolas, personagem de @manpleblog), o ajudava. Zina já planejando suas novas aventuras. Marcos arrumando um pouco o seu quarto e lendo seu livro sobre plantas. Franz costurando algumas roupas rasgadas e antigas suas. Primrose e Madeline(também personagem de @manpleblog) estavam tomando um chá. Sabryna fazendo algumas poções novas junto com sua namorada (Celeste, TAMBÉM personagem de @manpleblog). Calopsita na enfermaria testando as poções de cura da Sabryna. Windy na sua casa da árvore, jogando alguns joguinhos junto com Abibas. Axel testando golpes e novas armas (criadas por Charlie) na sala de treinamento. E finalmente, Mel, saindo de casa para regar o jardim de flores de seu filho, também dando comida para as plantas carnívoras que Marcos cultivava. Pq segundo ele, essas plantas iriam fortalecer seu poder de “natureza”, oq Mel claramente não confiava muito, mas ainda fazia questão de cuidar mesmo assim.  /Basically: Charlie with their plans and Pinkobot helping them. SproutOliver making lunch while Sharon and her boyfriend (Nicolas, character from @manpleblog), helped him. Zina is already planning her new adventures. Marcos tidying up his room a little and reading his book about plants. Franz sewing some of her old torn clothes. Primrose and Madeline (also a @manpleblog character) were having tea. Sabryna making some new potions together with her girlfriend (Celeste, ALSO @manpleblog character). Calopsita in the infirmary testing Sabryna's healing potions. Windy in her treehouse, playing some games with Abibas. Axel testing moves and new weapons (created by Charlie) in the training room. And finally, Mel, leaving the house to water their son's flower garden, also giving food to the carnivorous plants that Marcos cultivated. Because according to him, these plants would strengthen his “nature” power, which Mel clearly didn't trust much, but still insisted on taking care of them anyway.

Mel, cuidando ainda do jardim, encontra um amigo que havia conhecido a pouco tempo, mas que já tinha papo e que já tinha criado uma boa afinidade com ele. Ao vê-lo, Mel dá um sorriso e logo acena pra ele. Largando o regador no chão com cuidado e indo em direção ao indivíduo.  /Mel, still taking care of the garden, meets a friend he had met recently, but who had already started chatting and had already created a good rapport with him. Upon seeing him, Mel gives a smile and then waves to him. Carefully dropping the watering can on the ground and moving towards the individual.

M: Eai, David! Como cê tá, meu irmão?  /Hey, David! How are you, my buddy?

D: Eai, Mel! Como é bom te ver!  /Hey, Mel! How good it is to see you!

Os dois dão um comprimento com as mãos e se puxam para um abraço em seguida, dando uns tapinhas nas costas. Logo se soltam e depois começam a bater um papo.  /The two shake hands and then pull each other into a hug, patting each other on the back. They soon loosen up and then start chatting.

Axel, dando sua “passeada”.. Encontra Mel conversando com alguém, e logo reconhece a pessoa... Ficando surpreso..  /Axel, taking his “walk”.. He finds Mel talking to someone, and immediately recognizes the person... Being surprised..

A: David..?

David ouve chamar seu nome, ele se vira.. Então reconhece a pessoa, logo abre um sorriso doce e gentil.  /David hears his name called, he turns around... Then he recognizes the person, and opens a sweet and gentle smile.

D: Ah, eai Axel!  /Oh, hey Axel!

Ele vai em direção a Axel, e logo dá um abraço apertado, mas também com gentileza. Axel, por sua vez, fica ainda em choque com a aparição de seu ex-colega de seu trabalho perto da casa da família, ainda mais conversando com Mel.. Mesmo assim, devolve o abraço e descansa a cabeça no seu ombro.  /He goes towards Axel, and then gives him a tight hug, but also with kindness. Axel, in turn, is still shocked by the appearance of his former colleague from his work near the family home, even more so talking to Mel.. Even so, he returns the hug and rests his head on David shoulder.

D: Faz tanto tempo que não nos vemos.. Fico feliz de te encontrar novamente...  /It's been so long since we've seen each other.. I'm happy to meet you again...

Ele aperta ainda mais Axel, mas mesmo com o abraço apertado, Axel se sente confortável e esfrega as suas costas, fazendo um carinho.  /He tightens his grip on Axel, but even with the tight hug, Axel feels comfortable and rubs his back, caressing him.

A: Eu também fico feliz.. É muito bom te ver...  /I'm happy too.. It's great to see you...

Axel dá um pequeno afasto, mas ainda está perto de David. Ele olha para os olhos do outro homem, aqueles olhos cor de laranja.. Ah... Como Axel sentia saudade daqueles olhos.. E todo rosto em si, lhe deixava mais do que só admirado... Mas logo volta ao presente ao ouvir seu amigo falar.  /Axel takes a small step away, but is still close to David. He looks at the other man's eyes, those orange eyes.. Oh... How Axel missed those eyes.. And the whole face in itself, left him more than just admired... But soon he returns to the present listen to your friend talk.

D: Vejo que você mudou bastante.  /I see that you have changed a lot.

A: Ah.. É... Eu.. Decidi ficar com um estilo meio “rebelde”.... Eu sei, é meio “estranho” comparado ao o que eu usava ultimamente naquele tempo..  /Oh.. Yeah... I.. I decided to go with a somewhat “rebellious” style.... I know, it’s a bit “strange” compared to what I wore lately at that time..

D: Ei, eu não falei nada disso! Você não tá estranho, eu, pelo menos, acho você estiloso. E se você se sente confortável assim, melhor ainda!  /Hey, I didn't say anything like that! You don't look strange, I, at least, think you're stylish. And if you feel comfortable like that, even better!

Axel, ao ouvir aquilo, sentiu um rubor transparecer em seu rosto. Logo se afastou e se virou de costas pro outro homem, tentando esconder um pouco o rubor e pensar em algo pra distrair sua mente. Já David em si, ficou confuso com o que acabou de acontecer, logo levou uma de suas mãos pra coçar um pouco a sua cabeça.  /Axel, upon hearing that, felt a blush appear on his face. He then walked away and turned his back to the other man, trying to hide his blush a little and think of something to distract his mind. David himself was confused by what had just happened, so he took one of his hands to scratch his head a little.

D: Ei, Axel.. Eu falei alguma coisa errada...?  /Hey, Axel.. Did I say something wrong...?

Ele diz com um sorriso meio torto e desajeitado. Axel percebe o que realmente fez e volta a realidade, logo se vira, lançando um sorriso também torto e tímido, mas totalmente genuíno, também com um leve rubor em suas bochechas.  /He says with a crooked and awkward smile. Axel realizes what he really did and comes back to reality, then turns around, throwing a smile that is also crooked and shy, but totally genuine, also with a slight blush on his cheeks.

A: Ah! Não não! Eu só- uh... Não esperava um elogio assim, ainda mais alguém da polícia.. Ou mais especificamente, “delegacia”. /Oh! No no! I just- uh... I didn't expect a compliment like that, especially someone from the police.. Or more specifically, “station”.

Axel acaba de tocar em um assunto delicado, que faz David perder totalmente a compostura e se entristecer um pouco. Olhando meio para o lado, tentando não demonstrar muito sua tristeza em seu olhar. Axel percebe o movimento, e conhecendo David, ele sabe exatamente que seu amigo não está bem, e fez questão de perguntar.  /Axel has just touched on a delicate subject, which makes David completely lose his composure and feel a little sad. Looking to the side, trying not to show his sadness too much in his eyes. Axel notices the movement, and knowing David, he knows exactly that his friend is not well, and made a point of asking.

A: David..? Está tudo bem...?  /David..? Is everything ok...?

David não consegue nem olhar para Axel, ele não faz idéia de como contar a notícia, mas tinha certeza que seria o certo de qualquer maneira dizer a verdade e desabafar sobre.. Ele coça a cabeça, fechando os olhos e dando um suspiro.  /David can't even look at Axel, he has no idea how to break the news, but he was sure it would be right anyway to tell the truth and vent about... He scratches his head, closing his eyes and letting out a sigh.

D: Eu parei de ser delegado.. E até policial...  /I stopped being a delegate.. And even a police officer...

David diz, sendo totalmente sincero e honesto com o homem a sua frente. Ele agora leva os olhos finalmente aos o de Axel, ele olha para um homem chocado, mas também interessado ao saber o motivo.  /David says, being completely sincere and honest with the man in front of him. He now finally brings his eyes to Axel's, he looks at a shocked man, but also interested in knowing the reason.

D: Eu basicamente não tava aguentando mais aquela delegacia.. Me lembro das vezes que eu chegava em casa, totalmente desgastado pelo estresse...  /I basically couldn't handle that police station anymore... I remember the times I would come home, completely worn out by the stress...

Pois não tinha um dia que eu me sentisse bem naquele ambiente, não tinha um dia que eu pudesse fazer as minhas coisas com a cabeça limpa.  /Because there wasn't a day that I felt good in that environment, there wasn't a day that I could do my things with a clear head.

Ainda mais quando você saiu.. Eu me senti mais vazio e sem força... Tipo- eu sempre quis ser delegado, sempre quis ser o “líder”, mas.. Depois eu vi que não servia nem um pouco pra esse tipo de coisa... Além de não servir, eu vi que não tinha sentido eu estar ali, até porque era você quem me dava uma razão pra continuar, você me fazia cumprir qualquer ordem, me inspirava também a me tornar alguém o suficientemente confiante de que o que eu fazia era bom, era do seu agrado..   /Even more so when you left... I felt more empty and powerless... Like- I always wanted to be a delegate, I always wanted to be the “leader”, but... Then I saw that I wasn't even a bit fit for that kind of thing... Besides not being useful, I saw that there was no point in me being there, because you gave me a reason to continue, you made me carry out any order, you also inspired me to become someone confident enough that what I did it, it was good, it was to your liking..

Quando eu soube que o motivo de você ter saído era por causa da sua homossexualidade e estava sendo julgado tanto pelos nossos colegas como pelos outros por isso, eu fiz questão de não ficar triste e fazer que, pelo menos no ambiente de trabalho, ninguém poderia ousar a julgar os outros por sua sexualidade, gênero ou cor.  /When I found out that the reason you left was because of your homosexuality and that you were being judged by both our colleagues and others for that, I made a point of not being sad and making sure that, at least in the work environment, no one could dare to judge others by their sexuality, gender or color.

Axel ao ouvir isso, abriu um leve sorriso, ele estava muito orgulhoso de seu amigo.  /Axel, upon hearing this, opened a slight smile, he was very proud of his friend.

D: O engraçado é que.. A última coisa, eles não respeitaram, não cumpriram com a regra... Literalmente me julgando por causa da minha cor.  /The “funny” thing is.. The last thing, they didn't respect, they didn't comply with the rule... Literally judging me because of my color.

A: Que..!? Mas--  /What..!? But--

D: É, eu sei, isso nunca tinha acontecido, mas depois que você foi embora e que eu me tornei líder, várias coisas que nunca aconteceram, haviam começado a acontecer... E cada vez piorava.  /Yes, I know, that had never happened, but after you left and I became leader, several things that never happened, started to happen... And it got worse and worse.

Primeiro começaram a insinuar-me chamar de macaco mas “discretamente” e a me tratar como um, me presenteando com “bananas podres” todo dia. Depois começaram a me questionar, de que como eu havia dado a regra pra não julgar tais pessoas, se eu era gay ou algo assim, e até me perguntarem se eu era teu namorado e era por isso que você tinha me deixado ficar em seu lugar. E por último, começaram a quase sempre derramar o meu café “sem querer” na minha mesa de trabalho, sujando várias coisas, que eles sabiam que tinham documentos muito importantes e que com certeza iria me desgastar mais ainda tentando procurar provas para achar os culpados dos crimes.  /First they began to insinuate themselves into calling me a monkey but “discreetly” and treating me like one, giving me “rotten bananas” every day. Then they started questioning me, like I had given the rule not to judge such people, if I was gay or something like that, and they even asked me if I was your boyfriend and that was why you had let me stay in your place. And finally, they almost always started to “accidentally” spill my coffee on my desk, dirtying several things, which they knew had very important documents and that would certainly wear me out even more trying to look for evidence to find the culprits of crimes.

E bom, com isso tudo acontecendo, mais o meu cansaço de ter que ficar quase o dia inteiro naquela delegacia.. Eu decidi sair... Basicamente decidi deixar de ser policial.. E olha, te conta, eu acho que no final, foi uma das melhores escolhas que já fiz, sabia?  /And well, with all this happening, plus my tiredness from having to spend almost the entire day at that police station.. I decided to leave... Basically I decided to stop being a police chief, and even a police officer... And look, I'll tell you, I think in the end, it was one of the best choices I've ever made, you know?

Axel se surpreende com sua última frase, e faz questão de perguntar.  /Axel is surprised by your last sentence, and makes a point of asking.

A: E porque você acha isso?  /And why do you think that?

David sorri, mas logo em seguida cai uma lágrima de seu olho.. E enquanto escorre, ele apenas responde.  /David smiles, but then a tear falls from his eye... And as it falls, he just responds.

D: Porque agora eu me sinto livre da dor de estar rodeado de pessoas que não me fazem bem..  /Because now I feel free from the pain of being surrounded by people who are not good for me...

Ao ouvir aquilo, Axel imediatamente dá um abraço em David.. Um abraço forte, apertado e também muito carinhoso... David por outro lado, retribuí o abraço, ele encosta a cabeça no ombro de seu amigo e começa a chorar aos poucos, dando leves fungadas.. Axel, mesmo não sendo muito de chorar e demonstrar tal sentimentos que ele considera de “fraqueza”, ele deixa escorrer uma lágrima de seu olho, apertando mais ainda David e esfregando suas costas, fazendo aquele mesmo carinho que ele fez no começo.  /Upon hearing that, Axel immediately gives David a hug... A strong, tight and also very affectionate hug... David, on the other hand, returned the hug, he puts his head on his friend's shoulder and starts to cry little by little, giving light sniffles.. Axel, even though he isn't much of a cryer and shows feelings that he considers "weakness", he lets a tear fall from his eye, squeezing David even tighter and rubbing his back, doing the same caress he did at the beginning.

D: Eu achei que você não gostasse muito quando demonstrasse os seus reais sentimentos, ou que os outros fizessem isso..  /I thought you didn't like it very much when you showed your real feelings, or when others did that..

David diz entre meio soluços e lágrimas escorrendo em seu rosto.  /David says between half sobs and tears streaming down his face.

A: Sinto que com você é diferente.. Eu tenho uma forte confiança em você... Sinto que posso ser sincero.. Ainda mais por tudo que me contaste! Tem como não deixar de ser um idiota e uma mini/pequena lágrima cair do seu olho? David, eu posso não ter estado lá pra te ajudar naquele momento, e que esse abraço não seja o suficiente pra te fazer sentir confortado, mas mesmo assim quero ser sincero contigo...  /I feel like it's different with you.. I have a strong trust in you... I feel like I can be sincere.. Even more so because of everything you've told me! How can not stop being an idiot and have a little tear fall from your eye? David, I may not have been there to help you at that moment, and this hug may not be enough to make you feel comforted, but I still want to be honest with you...

Axel aperta um pouquinho mais seu amigo, David não consegue dizer se quer uma palavra, então faz um carinho em seu cabelo em resposta. Axel dá um leve sorriso ao ver o quão emocionado seu amigo está, ele com certeza nunca tinha visto David assim antes, mas sabia que de alguma forma ou outra que ele ficaria assim, tudo que ele contou para Axel, é uma reação já bem esperada de se ter..  /Axel squeezes his friend tighter, David manages to say no words, so he strokes his hair in response. Axel gives a slight smile when he sees how emotional his friend is, he had certainly never seen David like this before, but he knew that one way or another he would be like this, everything he told Axel is a well-expected reaction from to have...

(Um tempinho depois/A while later...)

Axel vê que finalmente David parou de chorar, ele para os movimentos de carinho nas costas.  /Axel sees that David has finally stopped crying, he stops stroking his back.

A: Se sente melhor?  /Do you feel better?

D: Mhm..

David confirma, ainda com a cabeça encostada em seu ombro. Sentindo-se totalmente confortado pelo carinho e apoio de seu “ex-líder” e amigo. Axel dá um sorriso logo em seguida ao ouvir isso.  /David confirms, still with his head resting on Axel's shoulder. Feeling completely comforted by the affection and support of his “former leader” and friend. Axel smiles immediately after hearing this.

A: Fico feliz..  /I am happy..

Axel afasta a cabeça, e os dois se entre olham. Axel vê o quanto David chorou só por causa das olheiras, seus olhos estavam um pouco vermelhos e escorrendo ainda uma lágrima do rosto. Axel limpa a lágrima e logo depois David dá um leve sorriso em resposta.  /Axel moves his head away, and the two look at each other. Axel sees how much David cried just because of the dark circles under his eyes, his eyes were a little red and a tear was still running down his face. Axel wipes the tear away and soon after David gives a slight smile in response.

Enquanto isso....... Mel, em seu cantinho escondido, como um bom “fofoqueiro silencioso”, viu e ouviu toda a conversa e interação dos dois..... Descobrindo um pouco mais do passado de Axel e de David, o tal qual Mel tinha conhecido a poucos dias, mas agora já sabia de tudo. E ao presenciar, Mel teve a brilhante idéia de convidar David pra família/grupo MKS... Já que sabia muito bem agora de como ele realmente era e o quão importante foi para Axel..  /Meanwhile....... Mel, in their hidden corner, like a good “silent gossiper”, saw and heard the entire conversation and interaction between the two..... Discovering a little more about Axel and David's past, the one Mel had met a few days ago, but now they knew everything. And upon witnessing it, Mel had the brilliant idea of inviting David to the MKS family/group.

M: *Ahem*.. Estou interrompendo alguma coisa?  /*Ahem*.. Am I interrupting something?

Mel pergunta totalmente ciente da resposta e da reação de Axel. Os dois olham para Mel, Axel faz uma carranca, já David dá um sorriso.  /Mel asks, fully aware of Axel's answer and reaction. They both look at Mel, Axel frowns, David smiles.

D: Ah, Oi Mel! Bom te ver novamente!  /Oh, Hi Mel! Good to see you again!

A: Você ouviu tudo, não foi?  /You heard everything, didn't you?

D: Uh?

Axel pergunta ainda com a carranca, fazendo David fica confuso.. Mel dá o seu querido sorriso malicioso em resposta.  /Axel asks, still frowning, making David confused.. Mel gives their beloved mischievous smile in response.

M: Talvez.....  /Perhaps.....

A: SEU--  /YOU--

M: MAS....  /BUT....

Não conto pra ninguém, ó:  /I won't tell anyone, look:

Ele faz os gestos de zíper na boca.  /They makes the zipper gestures in their mouth.

M: Boca fechada, tá?  /Mouth closed, okay?

SE você deixar o David entrar na família.  /IF you let David into the family.

A: Que....?  /What....?

D: Família..? Pera... Vocês se conhecem? São irmãos??  /Family..? Wait... Do you know each other? Are they brothers??

A: Não.. Não é bem assim...  /No.. Not exactly this...

M: Na verdade é eu quem chamo de família, David.  /I'm actually the one I call family, David.

D: Ah.. E vocês se conhecem então?  /Oh.. And do you know each other then?

M: Sim, só que esse “coisinha” aí que tá agarrado ni ti, me odeia pra um cacete- ele só quis fazer parte da família por causa da sua irmã, que tem grande papo comigo, tá ligado?  /Yes, but this “little thing” that is attached to you, hates me like hell- he only wanted to be part of the family because of his sister, who has a great chat with me, you know?

A: Cala boca..  /Shut your mouth..

M: Óia, respeita os mais véi.. Lembre-se, você tem 23 anos, eu sou 10 anos mais velho que tu. Então baixa a tua bolinha..  /Hey, respect your elders.. Remember, you're 23 years old, I'm 10 years older than you. So calm down...

A: “Baixar a bolinha”, aa para! Teu c# então!  /“Calm down”, oh hey, stop! Your ass then!

D: QUE ISSO, AXEL..!?  /WHAT'S THAT, AXEL..!?

M: Nem te preocupa, ele é assim. Tem uma rivalidade e implicância comigo que olha.. Dá pra nem descrever.  /Don't worry, that's how he is. There's a rivalry and annoyance with me, which, look.. I can't even describe it.

D: Mesmo assim! Que horror, Axel..! Não pode falar coisas assim...  /Even so! How horrible, Axel...! You can't say things like that...

A: Desculpa, David, é que eu me acostumei muito em falar palavrão com o tempo.. Me esqueci que você não gosta...  /Sorry, David, I've gotten very used to saying such things over time.. I forgot that you don't like it...

D: O problema não é nem eu gostar ou não, o problema é fazer isso com o Mel!  /The problem isn't whether I like it or not, the problem is doing it with Mel!

A: Que..?  /What..?

D: Pô, ele é mó legal, me tratou com um baita de um carinho.. Tipo- super gente boa... Vai me dizer que ele não te trata assim também?  /Like, he's really nice, he treated me with great affection.. And really sweet... Are you going to tell me that he doesn't treat you like that too?

A: Cala boca, David! Deixa de ser fã dele! Ele não é tão bom quanto parece!  /Shut up, David! Stop being their fan! They're not as good as they seem!

Axel fala se afastando deles.  /Axel says, moving away from them.

D: Ei! Pra onde você tá indo!?  /Hey! Where are you going!?

M: O! Cê não respondeu a minha pergunta!  /Hey! You didn't answer my question!

A: Faz oq tu quiser! Desde que não faça dele mais um fã teu também!  /Do whatever you want! As long as you don't make him another fan of yours too!

Axel fala e sai de vista, logo David olha pra Mel com uma expressão confusa..  /Axel speaks and leaves sight, then David looks at Mel with a confused expression..

D: Pq ele é assim contigo?  /Why is he like this with you?

M: Na verdade ele é assim com quase todo mundo, os da família as vezes ele implica um pouco também, isso quando não tão nem provocando.. Que é a pior parte...  /In fact, he's like that with almost everyone, those in his family sometimes get a little stressed too, that when they're not even provoking him.. Which is the worst part...

Mel olha nos olhos de David.  /Mel looks into David's eyes.

M: Ele parece uma fera....  /He looks like a beast....

David faz um olhar assustado, já lembrando de como ele era no passado com tais pessoas.. Ele se estremece.  /David looks scared, already remembering how Axel was in the past with such people.. He shudders.

D: Eu acho que sei de como ele é.. Talvez não tenha mudado nada desde aquela época...  /I think I know what he's like.. Maybe nothing has changed since then...

M: No trabalho ele também era assim?  /Was he like that at work too?

D: As vezes sim.. E muito furioso, tinha medo até... Mas depois que eu falava um pouco com ele, ele se acalmava rapidinho!  /Sometimes yes.. He was very angry, and I was very scared... But after I talked to him a little, he calmed down quickly!

Mel ao ouvir isso ficou ainda mais com vontade de botar David na família, sabendo que teria alguém pra apagar o fogo que tem na cabeça de Axel seria ótimo!  /Mel, upon hearing this, made them want to bring David into the family even more, knowing that there would be someone to put out the fire in Axel's head would be great!

M: Aí! Que ótimo!!! Você vai ser perfeito então pra apagar o fogo daquela carranc- quero dizer.. Quer ser da família?  /Hey! That's excellent!!! You'll be perfect then to put out the fire in that frown/grumpy- I mean.. Do you want to be family?

David ri do que acabou de ouvir e também fica super feliz com o convite.  /David laughs at what he just heard and is also super happy with the invitation.

D: Hehe, seria uma honra tá com você e com o Axel!  /Hehe, it would be an honor to be with you and Axel!

M: Ótimo, meu querido! Vou te levar pra conhecer meu filho, minha noiva, toda a galerinha que agora também é sua família e seu grupo!  /Great, my dear! I'm going to take you to meet my son, my fiancee, all the people who are now also your family and your group!

Sem nem mesmo ter o consentimento do outro homem, Mel pega e puxa David pelo braço, levando em direção a casa.  /Without even having the other man's consent, Mel grabs and pulls David by the arm, leading him towards the house.

David é logo recebido com muito amor e carinho, os de casa e principalmente Marcos ficaram muito feliz com o novo membro do grupo e família. David agora é o ajudante de SproutOliver na cozinha, junto com Sharon. As vezes ele também usa seu antigo porte de armas e ajuda Axel a batalhar com suas habilidades.  /David was immediately welcomed with lots of love and affection, those at home and especially Marcos were very happy with the new member of the group and family. David is now SproutOliver's helper in the kitchen, along with Sharon. Sometimes he also uses his “old” gun license and helps Axel fight with his skills.

~Fim/End~

Revisado por minha irmã(@lelaloly). Muito obrigado, Lela!💛  /Reviewed by my sister(@lelaloly). Thank you a lot, Lela!💛

[tavyliasin]

All We Cannot Have - Halsin x f!Tav One Shot

Some things magic cannot heal, and Tav has held her secrets close to her chest for a long time. It was just her luck to fall for the one man who clearly longed for something out of reach... When the world felt like it was ending, his love was a comfort, his embrace a rock in the storm. But now the seas are calm once more, she knows she has to let go, to swim away and leave him the chance to find what he wants most even if it has to be without her.

And yet... Letting go is harder than holding on ever was.

--- Click Here to read on AO3

2,386 words Pairing: Tav/Halsin SPICE Rating: 0.5/5 Content Warnings: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fertility/Infertility,

Spoilers References to all acts and epilogue Canon Compliance Almost everything is canon except the character circumstances Other Notes This is a heavy and emotional chapter, so if the content is at all troubling you please feel free to skip it, or ensure you have support for your wellbeing.

Mood/Song Fear Not This Night by Freya Catherine and Jack Victor "Distant sounds of melodies calling through the night to your heart. Auroras, mists and echoes dance in the solitude of our life. Pleading silent arias gently grieving in captive misery. Darkness sings a forlorn song and yet our hope can still rise up. Nightmares come when shadows grow. Lift your voice, lift your heart.

Fear not this night, you will not go astray. Though shadows fall, still the stars find their way. And though the night sky's filled with blackness... Fear not rise up... come on and take my hand. Fear not this night, you will not go astray. Though shadows fall, still the stars find their way."

----- FULL ONE SHOT FIC BELOW THE CUT -----

Tav first noticed it at the Tiefling party. Of everyone there, he was the one speaking with the refugees, a light at the heart of the celebration. Halsin’s laughter was warm and soft, echoing around the clearing as the children hung from his arms, climbing on tables to leap onto his back. Her heart warmed even as the tears sprang unbidden to her eyes, a lingering pain still stinging in old wounds she refused to reveal.  The next time was with Arabella, the druid quietly comforting her after the fate of her parents had been uncovered. He was patient with the girl, despite how abrasive she was in the heat of her grief at first. He let her calm as he made small honey treats, the smell of the cooking eventually luring her over to try one. Tav stayed back. She had done enough damage for one day - there was never going to be a right way to tell the girl her parents were gone, after all. Arabella would only be more upset if she got involved… Not long after came Thaniel, both halves of him. Watching him carry the boy - a child by appearance alone, he was likely older than both her and Halsin put together - broke her heart in two. The worry on his face, the determination to do what was right for both of them, the deep and unwavering care was evident in every word and action. When the curse was finally lifting, she was sure he might weep as they watched the land returning to what it always should have been, the smiles of Thaniel and Oliver both reflecting in his eyes.  Even at the Last Light Inn, several times Tav saw Halsin sneaking extra rations to the refugee children, slipping a couple of coins to them, leaving things they might like unattended where they could be “stolen”. 

It had been half a century since she last thought of anything like this. She thought it might easily be another full one too, but there he was, and all the emotions were stirring without permission. Still, against better judgement, Tav’s blue-tinted skin took on a violet hue when he looked her way, the blush rising to the tips of her pointed ears. They were close in age, the moon elf finding herself drawn to her cousin-kin easily, and by all accounts they were a perfect match in every way…except that one. She would give him the world, had she any choice in the matter, but the world could not give them what his heart clearly longed for. The city was little different, first with Yenna coming to camp, then with seeing the refugees again… It was getting harder and harder to ignore it. Halsin loved them, every single one, and his face would light up brighter than the sun when they smiled. It was like he was born for the role, even though he pushed it all aside, choosing to risk his life for Tav and her friends, for a city he had no stake in… Selfless to a fault. How could she not fall in love with him? His warmth and kindness further warmed by the way she felt in his arms, the way his lips caressed her skin, how fully he would give himself over to her. Halsin was everything she had ever dreamed of in a lifetime of wanderlust. And how it broke Tav’s heart to know it couldn’t last… After the final battle, the party had lasted long into the night, and their personal celebration went past the break of dawn. One last time, she told herself, one time to remember, to sear him into her memory. 

—

The soft light of the morning sun was filtering through patchwork curtains as they began to rise - much as she might wish, staying in his arms forever was not an option. The comfort of warm blankets and a warmer embrace could not last. Halsin’s soft eyes caught the look in her own. “My heart? You look troubled, what is it? Was I too…excited, last night? Lay down, let me take care of you-” 

“No, it’s not that. You were perfect, as always.” Tav cut him off, pulling back a little, gathering her clothes to pull them back on. Maybe for the last time… It had to be. For his sake, no matter what she wanted. “What are your plans from here? For the future?”

“My love, I thought we had spoken of this. I know for certain now. The lands you helped me to heal, it will make the perfect home for everyone who is lacking one. We can rebuild. There are many who will never feel this city as a home, many more who are not welcomed by the current residents…” He reached out to touch her cheek, but she withdrew the moment he made contact like she had been scalded. She regretted it the moment she heard the hurt in his voice.  “Did I do something wrong? Was it something I said? I was hoping you would join me, to build our new home together.” 

“I’m not right for you, Halsin.” Tav could no longer meet his eyes. Her heart sank to her knot-filled stomach, the agony of the truth burning in every tear as she tried so desperately to hold back the flood. “I can’t give you what you want.” 

“There is nothing I could want more than simply to have you in my life, to have a place of our own in the Oakfather’s arms- My heart, I would be satisfied simply to grow old and grey with you.” Every moment made it harder, she couldn’t even bring herself to pull her shoulder away from the gentle hand he laid upon it. “Why would you think yourself unworthy? Nature has made no finer blessing than you.” “Nature…did not bless me, Halsin. I can never give you what you want.” As Tav talked, Halsin remained silent, listening, honey-brown eyes fixed on her even though she couldn’t bear to meet his gaze. She brought her knees to her chest, still sat on the bed and only half dressed, but she had never felt more naked than when she spoke next. “I’ve seen you. I’ve watched you, it’s impossible not to notice how badly you want a family. And…that’s what I can never give. I’ve sought every cure, been to every healer, I once even considered the aid of a Hag but thankfully had at least more sense than desperation that time. Even a Wish would be foolish - the gods have such a way of twisting the words of our dreams into the shadows of nightmares.” She sighed, the breath leaving her with the last hint of hope that had long sat abandoned in her heart. “So…I can’t go with you, it wouldn’t be fair. You deserve someone who can let you become the father you are so clearly destined to be. I love you more than any words could ever do justice, and that’s exactly why I’m doing this now…it would be unkind to us both to deny you that.” —

Halsin watched her, as he had many times. He had seen the hint of pain Tav pushed back, noticed the thin silver scars on her body when they had spent many a night together, and he saw her now. How her body shook with the emotion she had been holding back since long before they met. Desperation, loneliness, heartbreak… A part of him knew, had always known, those silver-grey eyes were a mirror. The glass was shattering, beautiful shards falling as saline rivers coursing down her cheeks and landing on the dark silk of her shirt. He wrapped his arms around his lover, pulling her close, no longer letting her make the choice to draw back and leave. Her dark hair was soft under his caress, her whole being feeling so small and fragile he never wanted to let go in case she fell apart completely. The druid had prayed to the Oakfather many times, had walked the same road of seeking answers that could never be found. Even nature’s blessings had their limits, after all. Not every dream was destined to come true. As Halsin felt Tav’s tears ebb away to the quiet of eyes that burned dry with nothing left to give, his own heart threatened to break all over again. He kissed the top of her head, wishing he could fill her with hope, give her a solution, but at the end of the day reality would always break through. 

—

Tav felt his voice as much as heard it, the soft vibration rumbling through his chest, his words quiet and warm. “My love…” He was hesitant, gentle fingers caressing her back and hair with the same affection he always had, strong arms refusing to let go. “Do you think that biology is all there is to it? That the substance of the body is what makes a family?” Tav listened, sniffling slightly, feeling a little unsure on how to answer.

“I have known for a long time that I can never father a child, but I can still be a father.” Halsin’s words came as a surprise. She had always assumed that the weight on her shoulders was one she would carry alone… It wasn’t something that lovers discussed in the early days of romance, and friends would rarely raise the topic other than to announce good tidings. It was a silent shame. Penance for sins unknown, the chains that bound the broken to the cracks in their souls that even magic could never heal- And in one moment, it all fell away.

Halsin lifted her chin with his hand, looking deep into her eyes, the spark of hope in the warm honey tones beginning to heal the old scars that had been on the edge of tearing asunder. “My heart… What we pass on is far beyond our looks, our bloodlines. We give of ourselves those deeper parts. Our love, our heart, our memories… Everything that we feel and all that we have learned is more of who we are than the red in our veins or the colour of our eyes.” “I…you never told me.” Tav blinked, realising the irony in how she had held back the truth from him just the same. “What was I to say, my love? I could see how it hurt you, I hoped that asking you to join me today would bring only joy, to promise you a future. Our future.” He kissed her forehead, hand cupping her cheek, thumb gently wiping away the stains of tears. “I thought I had wept enough for the both of us, on those nights when you rested peacefully below the stars, and all my mind could recall was how lonely you looked when the children were playing.” Tav finally released her knees from her own grip, bringing her hand to the back of the druid’s head, fingers lightly lacing through soft hair as she pressed her forehead against his own. “We should have spoken far sooner.”

His laugh was as soft and warm as the scent of moss and leather that was always present when they were this close. “Whatever shall we do with each other…” “Maybe I should apologise first. I didn’t mean to keep anything from you, or to pull away, and, gods, the last thing I really wanted to do was leave. But I thought…I thought it was the only way you could have the future you deserve.” Tav felt the embarrassment colour her cheeks a deeper violet beneath the pale blue tones that her own parents had gifted her. “You have every right to be angry with me for how foolish I’ve been.” “Anger is the furthest thing from my mind,” Halsin soothed her fears, channelling a little magic to his hand to cool her cheek. “Let us make our plans. Thaniel’s lands should be recovering well but will still need time. Yet there are plenty of people here in the city who have found themselves unwelcome, more still who feel unsafe after all they have seen in these streets. There is a town to rebuild, an Inn we can stay at, even Moonrise could be restored to become a beacon of hope again.” Tav smiled, her heart warming more than it had in many a long year. “And plenty of children who need a family.” 

“Sadly a great number of them,” Halsin replied, almost as if he felt the ripples of their loss. “They may not all wish to come with us, but we can give them an option. An open door, open arms, and open hearts.” 

“Is there ever a limit to your kindness, Halsin?” Tav rubbed her nose against his affectionately. “Possibly.” He returned the gesture, the hint of his own smile in his response this time too. “Would you like to find out?” 

“We’re going to end up rivalling Jaheira’s brood, aren’t we?” She couldn’t help but think of the older druid’s adopted family, how they all took care of each other when she was away. “But let’s not go on too many adventures, not unless we have to. I think I’ve had quite enough excitement and danger for a while.” “I couldn’t have said it better myself, my love.” Halsin finally broke the contact, leaning his head back a little to look at her again. “I cannot wait to see if any of them pick up your laugh, the way you smile in the sun, develop your terrible skills in the kitchen-”  Tav playfully bit his nose. “That was one time! But… Fine, you can teach them how to cook, which berries are safe to eat, and I’ll show them how to properly hold a sword or run from the scary old bear chasing after them to wash behind their ears.”

The pain was falling away, the pieces of broken dreams being gathered from the floor, stitched together into a new pattern. Patchwork, perhaps, and not the tapestry either of them might have imagined in centuries past, but every new thread wove something stronger. Shards of what couldn’t be beginning to form the stained glass mosaic of a brighter future now the storm had passed.

--- --- ENDING NOTES --- ---

I won't lie, I took my heart from my chest and threw it at the page, hurting every feeling I have ever had in the process. But that in itself is cathartic, the piece needed out, the story needed to be told.

Life may not always work in our favour, fate takes away choices we might have had, and some things even magic cannot solve. But healing can come in different forms, like finding a different future, and finding the last flickering light in the dark to chase the shadows away.

[redroomroaving]

The Rivington Three (Geraldus x Donnick x Klaus, E)

Geraldus and Donnick have grown up together in the streets of Rivington, sharing dreams and firsts, as their paths take them to the halls of Ilmater and the ranks of the Harpers.

The circus has moved in next door to the temple; and Klaus struck up a friendship with the monk of Ilmater. Three, joined by having their worlds upturned by the arrival of shapeshifting dopplegangers, come together.

(Short vignette of the Rivington boys, childhood friends to lovers, OT3 vibes. Mirrored on Ao3 here. With thanks to the wonderful @n1ghtmeri and @benicemurphy for fuelling this one.)

“You should put them back,” Geraldus says, his voice coming out as barely above a whisper - watching the boys sharing their spoils, unpeeling one of the stolen oranges with eager fingers.

“Should we?” One of the boys says, jabbing a finger, sticky with citrus already, into his chest, “why?”

Geraldus knows why, already, but as he looks up at them - swallowing and nervous - he wonders why they don’t understand what they’ve done is wrong.

“It’s stealing,” he says, finding his bravery a little now, trying to stand a little taller.

He wishes he was tall, like his brothers - so he could loom over them - instead of feeling so small.

His mother promises it’ll happen for him, too, the growth spurt that inevitably strikes all of the Rivers boys - but it hasn’t happened yet.

“People - people need those -” he tries to explain, gripping his fingers into tight fists at his side, “you can’t just take them.”

The boys look between each other a moment, and laugh; snorting and cruel, dismissive.

“Put them back,” he tries again, louder now.

“Or what?” The boy says, grinning at him with teeth coated with the juice of the stolen fruit, “you’ll cry some more?”

Geraldus feels himself flinch; feels his cheeks begin to burn, and the prickle of tears, almost immediate and shameful, at his eyes - before he can stop them.

“N-no-”

“He’s crying already,” the other boy jeers, stepping forward, too - and Geraldus realises he’s outnumbered and small. He’s powerless to stop them, however much he wants to.

“He’s right,” a voice interrupts - a hand reaching out and pushing away that sticky finger, jabbed into his chest, and another steps in front of him, “it’s theft.”

Geraldus doesn’t know this boy; he’s a little taller than him, and he turns back to him for just a moment to flash him a quick, reassuring smile.

He’s got blonde hair, in tight curls, and hazel eyes - like Geraldus’, but a little darker - and Geraldus thinks for a moment that he looks a bit like an angel, which is a silly thought, but as he blinks away the freshly forming tears, he smiles back.

The boys seem less sure of themselves now, a quick, hesitating glance shared between them.

“C’mon Donny,” the first says, “it’s just a few oranges…”

But the blonde boy folds his arms, and tilts his head, and Geraldus realises quickly that they’re a bit scared of him from the way they shy back.

“Put ‘em back and apologise,” he says, squaring up a bit more, “or I’ll make you.”

Geraldus finds his chest filling up with fluttering as the boys slink away, and the blonde boy turns to him, grabbing his arm with a grin.

“Let’s make sure they do,” he says as he drags him along with him, and they walk, together, to make them return every orange to the merchant’s cart.

He’s proud as the merchant thanks them both, and calls them brave for standing up to them.

“I’m Donnick,” the blonde says as they tread the muddy path back up the hill, “you’re one of the Rivers family, right? Your mother bought the old Miller’s farm?”

Geraldus nods.

“Geraldus,” says.

Donnick repeats his name, to remember it.

–

They’re inseparable, after; hours spent clambering around the hills and cliffsides whilst Geraldus picks flowers, a pleasure he doesn’t need to hide from Donnick as he gathers up clusters of wild garlic and lavender and thyme to cook with in turn.

They skip rocks across the water, and talk about who they want to be.

Donnick’s not quite sure, yet, but he knows he wants to help people. It’s why he likes to cook.

He helps Geraldus’ mother to bake loaves and takes them to the Temple of Ilmater - where he watches the monks help a man, starving and broken, up the steps to safety. A tall man with dark greying hair, Father Lorgan, ushers words of comfort; promises to bear the burden of the injured man’s suffering.

Lorgan thanks Donnick for the bread with a smile, and Donnick starts to see a future taking shape.

Geraldus isn’t sure either; he wants to help people, but as he watches Donnick poring through the pages of the Temple’s teachings - he isn’t sure this is the sort of place where his future lies.

He picks through the brush of the cliffside as Donnick trails behind, reading, following the trodden trail with steady feet, and breathes in the salt in the air.

He looks down across the shimmering water - and wonders where it is he’s supposed to go. Where he’s supposed to help.

–

They share their firsts; fingers knotted together in the field behind Geraldus’ farmstead; Donnick’s bright hazel eyes tentatively flitting across Geraldus’ own, glancing at his lips, unsure.

Geraldus knows his face is red as he nods, inviting permission.

Donnick clears the space - his lips brushing against Geraldus’, barely more than a touch, but warm. Soft.

Geraldus swallows as their eyes meet again.

Not so scary, afterall; sharing a kiss.

He leans in this time - bringing their lips together again - a fumbling, novice attempt, but he parts his lips with his tongue, and deepens it.

Donnick tastes sweet - of the blackberries they had stolen from the kitchen - and his fingers dig into Geraldus’ hand as their tongues tangle together, hot, hurried, eager.

They part, and he smiles. His smile is as bright as the sky above, and crackling with excitement. The sun catches his hair, casting the gold curls almost copper where the light hits.

No. Not so scary at all, Geraldus thinks, as he kisses him again.

–

In the confines of his cramped, dark room, Donnick’s hair falls across his face. It is getting longer and longer now. He looks down at him with those same hesitant eyes - asking permission again.

“We don’t have to - if you’ve changed your mind-” he starts to say, but Geraldus cuts him short, leaning up to kiss his worry silent.

They’d made it this far, afterall; naked, and terrified. He’s shaking he’s so nervous.

“I want it to be you,” he says, searching Donnick’s eyes, and hoping he still feels the same way.

Donnick’s smile is small now.

“Me too,” he says.

He’s gentle as he slides his fingers across him, taking Geraldus’ length into his hands and kissing him as he touches him like this for the first time.

No longer just hurried kisses and bodies pressed together in artless thrusts through their clothes; this was real. This time there was no turning back.

Geraldus cries out as he presses into him, slow, and tentative.

Donnick kisses his shoulder, reassuring, keeping their fingers tightly laced.

“Tell me if it hurts, ok?” He asks, as he thrusts a little deeper. Geraldus feels the sting of it, but he nods, pressing his forehead against Donnick’s, closing his eyes.

It is hurried thrusts; breathless kisses, dotted against his lips in reassurance as Donnick comes slowly undone in him, finally crumbling with a whimper buried into Geraldus’ hair.

–

It gets easier, after the first time. Geraldus bites down on Donnick’s forearm, to keep silent - to make sure they don’t wake his brothers through the thin walls - as Donnick grips his thighs and bucks into him in deep, eager thrusts.

He’s strong; his grip around Geraldus’ cock firm as he brings him over with him; matching the circling of their hips, drawing the pleasure higher, higher until Geraldus’ teeth are digging into his arm hard - his cry dying against his forearm as he spills across his hand.

The sting - the welcome pain of his teeth a ripple through Donnick - as he lets go, pulling free of Geraldus to release across the bed with a moan.

In the dark they lie together; skin damp with sweat, finding their breath again. Donnick pushes a lock of Geraldus’ hair - dark, soft, beautiful - his beauty growing deeper every year to match - back from his eyes.

They love each other; they have for years now - but Donnick wonders, in these snatched moments, as the heat cools between them, if he’s in love with him too.

Maybe he is.

–

They sit together, a moment, in silence; Geraldus’ fingertips hovering over the fresh skin on Donnick’s back - the scars there just barely healed, red, sore, in furious lines across his flesh.

He hesitates.

“I -'' there were so many of them; so many marks across Donnick’s shoulders, his spine, and bruises, too, around his wrists - where they had been tightly bound.

He has survived his First Suffering, and Geraldus doesn’t truly know what that means.

“Why?” Geraldus asks, when the right words for his feelings fail him.

Donnick looks at the wall ahead, something shifted in his eyes, something harder now.

“We must learn to endure,” he says, “to take suffering onto ourselves, so we can understand it. So we can suffer for them, until … until we can bear even a fraction of their burden.”

Something has changed. Donnick has changed.

Geraldus can see it in him; in the squaring of his shoulders, the flint in his gaze, the conviction laced through his words. In his First Suffering he has found purpose. He has found something in himself too.

Geraldus lets his fingers brush against the skin, feels the heat of those freshly healed wounds against his fingertips, burning. Donnick lets out a small rasp at the cool of his touch, wincing slightly.

“Are you going to do it?” Donnick asks him, as he pulls his vestments back over his shoulders.

Geraldus watches him quietly, eyes focusing on the small crest he pulls back out from where it is tucked under his collar, to display it proudly on his chest again. The white hands of Ilmater, wrapped in red rope.

Geraldus thinks instead of White Harps, painted on wood in just the same way, creaking as it sways in the wind - and within - the Finders song, gentle and melodic, echoed; a foggy memory that persisted from his early years in the Dalelands.

His jaw still aches from where he had struck him; the thief - after he had chased him through the throngs of the crowd - tackling him to the floor.

As the man had struggled against him, scraping and scrabbling against his grip - catching his cheek with a blow - Geraldus had held firm. He was no scrawny child anymore. He was tall, and fast, and strong.

A man in armour, with a Harp pinned on his chest, had helped him to bring the thief to the guards. He’d called him brave, and Geraldus had remembered the last time he’d felt the glow of pride, from that same word.

He wanted to be brave.

Geraldus nods, trying to find a bit of that same resolve in his own chest. He’s going to be a Harper.

“I’m signing up,” he says, determined, “tomorrow.”

Donnick reaches across, his fingers lingering for a moment on the already forming bruise on his jaw, the split cut of his lip - his expression quiet, and curious.

“Does it hurt?”

Geraldus gives him a small, weak smile.

“Yes,” he says.

Donnick leans across, and kisses him; and it stings a little, against his lips.

–

After Geraldus leaves on his first assignment, it’s months before Donnick realises how lonely he is; filling his time with his new duties, with feeding the hungry, with clearing the vestries and learning the words. Training his body, his mind, to swallow suffering.

He thinks about his friend as he lies in the dark, night after night. He hasn’t had a letter from him in a long time now.

He hopes desperately that he’s safe - tries not to imagine the dangers that Geraldus might have discovered in his new duties. He’s brave; he reminds himself, thinking of Geraldus’ bright smile, his beautiful eyes.

He’s stronger than he seems.

He misses him. Outside of their duties, his brethren speak of little; he finds himself wishing he had someone to speak to again about things other than Ilmater.

He wakes one morning to his brothers and sisters, whispering in the yard; the land beside the temple, which has been empty and closed up for so long, is suddenly teeming with life.

“A circus?” Brother Bill whispers, disapproving, “right here?”

His eyes wider still as he sees the cages being wheeled in; sees the flying, winged imp and the small kobold among them.

“A circus of monsters?” Bill adds, horrified.

“Monsters and men,” Father Lorgan corrects, and suggests perhaps they ought to befriend their new neighbours as they’ll be sharing a fence.

Donnick brings the loaves and a pot of chowder; struggling a little to make his way through the bustle as the circus takes shape before his eyes, a flurry of movement and construction, setting up tents and building structures.

It’s hard to find where he might start, eyes tracing across unfamiliar creatures, humanoid and otherwise in form - until a figure cuts through the crowd, a bright smile and a shock of scarlet hair.

“Need a hand?” He asks, brightly, quickly helping to take the weight of the pot, “I see you’ve brought us food?”

Donnick nods, grateful for a friendly face. It’s certainly that; he’s handsome, eyelids adorned in sparkling red to match the vibrant colours streaked through his hair.

“A … welcome, I guess,” he offers, smiling back.

“Gratefully received,” the scarlet-haired man says, that bright smile growing wider still, “I’m sure we’re not necessarily welcome guests. Most people aren’t thrilled when the minstrels move in next door.”

Donnick shoots him a sheepish smile; true enough.

“You’re welcome to me,” he says, adding, a little blunt, “people are getting sour - we could do with a bit of laughter around here.”

The man’s eyes linger on him, a little glimmer in them as they cast over him quickly.

“An Ilmatari from the temple,” the red-haired man assumes correctly, and gestures, “it’s a beautiful building; I’ve seen a lot of smoke rising - do you have a bonfire, within?”

Donnick nods.

“In the courtyard,” he says, “we keep it fed all the time, in case someone needs warmth.”

“Hmm,” the man considers this, as he helps him carry his offerings to a table, “I’d like to see that.”

He offers a hand.

“Klaus,” he says.

“Donnick,” Donnick replies.

–

Donnick is still trying to scrub the last of the blood from the floorboards - the stains stubborn and soaked into the wood - when he hears the hurried footsteps approaching.

He looks up, barely has time to register that it’s Geraldus before he clears the room, collapsing at his side on the ground and throwing his arms around him, a tight and desperate embrace.

Donnick pulls him into his arms, feeling him shake there, chest breaking into deep, heaving sobs.

He holds him there and lets him cry; stroking his fingers through his hair as he does, and wonders what has happened.

He didn’t even know he was back in the city; but his chest is aching, ribs pulling apart as he holds him there - the wash of deep relief and the joy of seeing him again drowned beneath his worry.

“They’re all dead,” Geraldus whispers into his shoulder, between sobs, “they’re all dead but me.”

Donnick takes in a few deep breaths; thinking of the stink of blood, still lingering in his nostrils no matter how much he cleans, of Father Lorgan’s body, and swallows.

He knows before Geraldus even needs to say that this is the same; what has happened to him, it’s part of this, too.

He presses a kiss to his hair. It doesn’t matter that it’s been months. It doesn’t matter that they’re not lovers - not really - he offers him love, all the same.

“It’s ok,” he says, “you’re safe.”

Geraldus shakes his head.

“We’re not safe,” he says, “none of us are safe.”

–

“I’m sorry,” Donnick says, watching Geraldus lying there, finally sleeping - exhausted from crying - amongst the pillows and blankets of Klaus’ small tent, “I wasn’t sure where else to take him..”

The Temple is no longer a sanctuary for those in need; its doors no longer open. The notches across his knuckles sting, the frustration he has been throwing at the training dummy in the yard written in his singing limbs.

“It’s ok,” Klaus replies, pressing a cup into his hands - it is a cup of tea, steaming. The heat pouring through the clay settles into his aching fingers, easing. He smiles at him - realising this is why this had been offered - even though he hadn’t asked for it.

Klaus settles next to him, contemplating the figure.

“Bloody dopplegangers,” he says, after a moment, because in a way there’s nothing else to say.

Donnick nods, and lets himself lean against Klaus’ shoulder, grateful. He realises, as he leans into him, that he should have come to him sooner.

Klaus reaches, carefully, to circle a hand around him, pulling him closer.

“I’m sorry about Lorgan,” he says.

“I’m sorry about Dribbles,” Donnick replies.

Klaus takes in a deep breath, tilts his head, just a little, into him, and Donnick feels the shiver as his breath catches against his neck.

“He’s not going to be ok for a while,” Klaus says against his neck, “that’s … what happened, that’s … more than anyone should have to endure.”

Donnick nods. He knows a little about enduring, now.

“I’m not sure any of us are going to be,” he says, “Bill’s already talking about how Lorgan’s teachings died with him.”

Klaus lets out a frustrated, but not surprised, sort of sigh.

“Bill’s a bastard,” he says.

Donnick nods.

They sit together, for a moment; and Geraldus lets out a little sound in his sleep, turning, his brows drawn together in anguish, a whimper, pained, in his throat. His dreams are no escape, Donnick thinks, from his waking horrors.

“We’ll help him together,” Klaus says, watching him too, “ok?”

–

Geraldus wants to get back to the hunt - wants to prove he’s a Harper still - and his frustration is palpable as he’s stuck in place.

“I know,” Klaus says, as brushes his fingers through his hair, gently pulling it into plaits, just like Donnick used to do when they were younger, “but the High Harper is right. You need to be ready.”

“I am ready,” Geraldus counters.

He’s still unsure about this new figure, feeling a bristle of unfamiliarity at his presence, but it’s fading quickly. Klaus doesn’t look at him like he’ll break - like Donnick does - and he gives him things to do with his anxious hands.

Geraldus unpicks the knotted chains in his hand, untangling them as Klaus works on his hair. His fingertips brushing the nape of his neck a moment as he pins it up into a tight bun.

Donnick is back in the temple, making more supplies for the soup kitchen, even as his brothers and sisters try to keep their doors shut.

“Maybe you are,” Klaus says, considering, “but if you’re not - are you sure you can live with that? If you failed, when the moment came?”

Geraldus feels his heart heave; the realisation, miserable, in his chest, that Klaus is right. He can’t fail. He can’t let anyone else die for him.

He is crying, again, before he can stop it. He hates it, that he can’t seem to stop; that it keeps breaking through him, like he’s that scared child trying so hard to be brave again.

“I… I want to be brave…” he says, trying to stop the tears from falling.

Klaus crawls round in front of him, taking him in a moment, and reaching up to blot at his tears with the corner of a velvet sleeve.

“Brave,” he repeats, gently, “covers a lot of things. It’s brave to stand up to those around you and fight for what you believe to be true…”

Geraldus meets his eyes, his usual bright grin now a small, understanding smile, “it’s brave to carry on the show, when everything is changed.”

“It is brave to hold your nerve in the face of such horrors as you have seen, Geraldus,” he said, “and it is brave, too, to let yourself grieve what it cost you to do so.”

It has cost him everything, Geraldus realises, and will cost more still.

Geraldus lets himself cry; lets the tears fall.

Klaus lets him - pulling his fingers from the chains, and holding them gently as he does.

His body is singing with it, the sadness rattling through still, buzzing gently as his heaves start to settle and Klaus wipes at his cheeks.

As he blinks away the last of the tears he realises why it is that Donnick brought him here.

Why this is the person Donnick has turned to, whilst he’s been away.

He’s not sure what compulsion drives him to clear the space between them; a desperation, he supposes, to be touched - to feel something else other than sadness for a moment. He parts his lips in a desperate kiss as Klaus holds his fingers against his chest; returning the kiss a moment, before gently pushing him back.

“Geraldus-” he starts, “you - Donnick and you…”

Geraldus reaches for him again, dragging him by the collar back to his lips.

“Please,” he whispers against his lips, “I need… I just need…”

Klaus tangles his fingers into his hair, moves into his kiss, and gives him what he needs.

–

In the tangle, Donnick draws his lips across Geraldus’ neck; adorns him with care as he reaches for Klaus’ hand - wanting his familiar warmth - wanting to lace his fingers with his own.

Geraldus rasps, breaking and gentle as Klaus’s lips draw across him, tongue trailing up his cock, lingering, swirling across his head.

Donnick kisses him, catches those gasps as Klaus takes Geraldus into his mouth - and feels his fingers gripping Donnick’s tighter - reassuring.

Geraldus’ head lolling back, and Donnick kisses at his throat as he moans. He grips his hips, carefully; their bodies familiar to one another, a welcome, happy return to a place of safety as he presses into him, gently - and hears Geraldus cry out.

Klaus crawls up between his legs as Donnick thrusts into Geraldus, slowly, deep. Klaus’ lips find his own, desperate; and Donnick returns his kiss - tastes the salt of Geraldus’ skin lingering on his tongue as Geraldus whimpers between them.

He keeps kissing him as Klaus presses himself against Geraldus, drawing their cocks together in his grasp, working them both in careful, deliberate strokes - matching Donnick’s bucking thrusts.

Geraldus’ fingers tangle into Donnick’s hair, splay across Klaus’ spine to feel his panting breaths. Klaus pins Donnick’s grip, biting at his lip, letting out a moan of his own against his lip. Donnick feels himself closer and closer; trying to hold on even as Geraldus breaks; twisting against him as he comes - and Klaus’s groan against his lip tells him he’s not far behind.

Donnick lets his thrusts quicken; driving harder now as Klaus lets out a growling cry into his throat. He gives into it - finally collapsing through; the wash of pleasure flooding his mind as he grips them both, closer, and lets himself go.

–

“You’re leaving the Temple?” Geraldus asks, as they sit on the grass, looking across at the city - battered, ruined by battle, but standing still - defiant. Rebuilding itself, brick by brick, day by day.

It had survived, just as he had. It will rebuild, just as he will.

Donnick nods.

He twists a ring around his finger, contemplating.

“It’s… complicated,” he says, “there’s something… something I need to do.”

He meets Geraldus’ eyes, now, hesitant.

“There’s someone,” he says, confessing. “Someone who needs me.”

Geraldus searches his gaze; sees the glimmer in them, of something sad, but hopeful. Once again, Donnick has changed. For the first time in months, he sees that resolve in his eyes, that he’d seen all those years before in a quiet room - as he’d drawn fingers across fresh scars.

He smiles, and reaches for his hand.

“You’ll make it through,” he says.

Donnick squeezes his fingers.

“Maybe,” he says, and laughs a little - nervous, “I think I might be a little mad.”

Geraldus smiled wider still.

“You’re not mad,” he says, “you’re in love.”

Donnick takes a breath.

“I hope that’s enough,” he says, eyes distant.

Geraldus holds his hands a little longer. They stay there, in comfortable silence, holding on for that little while longer.

“What about you?” Donnick asks eventually, “are you going back to them? The Harpers?”

Geraldus doesn’t know yet. He’s stuck, waiting here, in this limbo of uncertainty - waiting, waiting - for something else to happen. He wishes he was like Donnick. That he had a something, or a someone, for his heart to point to.

“I think so,” he says.

Donnick squeezes his fingers a little tighter still.

“You’ll make it through, too,” he says.

–

Geraldus tests the pin on his chest, wanting to make sure it was fastened properly. His feet have guided him to the gates of the circus; because where else is there to go? Who else is there to tell?

Klaus is reading something as he approaches; and he glances up, taking him in - his lips breaking into a bright, sudden smile.

“Well,” he greets, pushing away from the railings as Geraldus approaches, “now that’s a welcome sight.”

Geraldus feels a little flush on his cheeks as he brushes his hair behind his ear, Klaus’ gaze roving over him, over his armour, appreciative.

“What do you think?” He asks.

“I feel safer already,” Klaus says, grinning.

Geraldus feels himself wanting to flinch, instinctive.

“You’re teasing me,” he says.

Klaus shakes his head.

“Not even a little,” he says, his grin shifting, his smile sincere, “it suits you - Harper.”

Geraldus smiles, and moves to his side, to look out across the town with him. Klaus reaches for his arm, looping his own around it, and rests his hands across Geraldus’ own, warm and reassuring.

“You need some company - for the ceremony?” He asks.

Geraldus nods.

“Thanks,” he says, and then after a long moment, “do you think Donny will make it?”

Klaus nudges him a little.

“Of course he will,” he says, “how could he miss it?”

[fenkizard]

Wild kratts one shot short fic (please mind the tags. It’s mainly violence and injury)

This fic was more or less both practice for fight scenes as well as a precursor to my au. I want to establish that the boys are going off canon in a way because they can and will throw hands if need be. They don’t like to, but they will

[heart-of-the-morningstar]

Sidetracked

Summary: Pavitr wants to know what's happening to his city. But somehow, he gets sidetracked along the way.

Consider this a potential opening to Beyond the Spider-Verse. I wanted to write something that sort of paralleled Gwen's opening scene in Across the Spider-Verse. Pavitr is my new favorite Spider and I wanted him to have more screen time, so I gave him some! I haven't written anything in a hot minute so please excuse any mistakes and I hope y'all enjoy! This story is also on my AO3 here.

Commission done by @ssuzu

Pavitr was left alone standing on the collapsed bridge. Hobie, Gwen, and Miles had left with Jess to speak with Miguel about the whole Spot situation. The black hole below him was engulfing his city, some Spiders were circled around it doing their best to contain…whatever it was. Pavitr wasn’t sure. He wasn’t given any answers as to what was happening before his team departed.

Maybe they can tell me what’s going on, Pavitr thought as he swung down to meet the other Spiders down below. Unfortunately, they didn’t have many answers to give him. “We’re going to try and contain this anomaly,” one of them said. “The canon was broken,” another said. “It’s too dangerous for you to be here, kid. Let us handle this,” yet another one said. Pavitr became frustrated and gave up asking them any more questions. He swung back up to the broken bridge and made sure everyone was clear of the damage. Luckily, everyone was safe. He realized then that the day was ending, it was almost dusk. He needed to get home; he knew Maya Auntie would be worried about him after today’s events.

He landed in the closest alleyway to his home and made sure no one was around before he changed back into Pavitr Prabhakar. Luckily it was dark enough now that he could easily hide in the shadows. Hurriedly stuffing his suit in his backpack, he ran up the stairs to his aunt’s apartment. Please be asleep, please be asleep, Pavitr thought to himself repeatedly moving as fast as his legs could carry him. Quietly, he opened the door to the apartment, the door squeaking as it opened.

Maya Auntie was nowhere in sight. Although, he did notice that the television was on. It was the news. He slowly turned the handle of the door and silently closed it behind him. He walked towards the television that had the ruined bridge on display in full view on the screen. Flashes of broken concrete, mangled vehicles, and torn cables. Pavitr had only been Spider-Man for six months, he had never yet dealt with damage on this scale before. It was a miracle that no one was hurt. If not for the others, he didn’t even want to think of how bad it could have been.

“This was the scene today after the destruction of the Alchemax building earlier this afternoon,” the news anchor reported. “The bridge had completely collapsed while hundreds of people were traveling in and out of the city. But thanks to the heroic efforts of Spider-Man and what appears to be other Spider heroes, no one was injured during this crisis.” A slight smile appeared across Pavitr’s face. He really did owe them everything. Especially Miles, the new guy that had saved Inspector Singh when he himself couldn’t. “Yes, everyone has been saved,” the man on the television continued, “but what has everyone concerned now is the massive black hole that has appeared in Mumbattan. What this is or where it came from is unknown, but we here at the station were told by authorities that everyone should stay clear of the area. Rescue teams have already been deployed to ensure everyone residing there is moved to a safer location…” The reporter continued but Pavitr had stopped listening. He was tired and the news reminding him of this anomaly only made his heart sink. He didn’t want to hear anymore.

He had stopped walking and looked down at the arm of the couch where the remote sat. He reached down to grab it, but realized someone’s head was resting on the arm as well. It was Maya Auntie. She must have fallen asleep waiting for him. He knew how lucky he was to have her watching over him. After losing his parents and his Uncle Bhim, she was the only real family he had left. He grabbed the remote and pressed the “OFF” button, the television humming softly. He put down the remote and knelt in front of his aunt and began to shake her ever so lightly.

“Hi Maya Auntie, I’m home,” Pavitr whispered. Maya inhaled slowly and opened her eyes to see her nephew staring at her softly.

“Pavitr,” she answered, “Thank goodness, you’re safe. Where have you been? There was a terrible accident in the city today, I was worried about you!” She sat up slowly as Pavitr stood up to help her off the couch. “I needed to know you were safe, I wanted to wait up for you, but I suppose I let myself drift off.” Her nephew leaned in and hugged her tightly.

“I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to worry you,” Pavitr replied. “I promise I’m okay. I wasn’t anywhere near that part of the city.” A twinge of guilt struck him. He felt bad lying to her, but he also felt as though he didn’t have a choice. He needed to keep her safe, that was his priority. He couldn’t stand losing one more person. His aunt smiled at him and yawned, her eyes growing heavy. “Let’s get you to bed,” Pavitr offered. He led her to her room and opened the door for her. “I’ll see you in the morning, Maya Auntie. Good night.”

She smiled and nodded to him. Pavitr closed the door and breathed a small sigh of relief. He stumbled off to his room and threw his backpack towards the foot of his bed. He plopped down on the mattress, staring blankly at the ceiling. He needed to go to sleep, it had been more than an exhausting day. A mysterious villain from another universe caused irreparable damage to his city, he nearly lost the love of his life, and now there was a terrifying dimension-tearing hole swallowing up Mumbattan.

Maybe being Spider-Man isn’t so easy, Pavitr thought to himself as he tossed and turned his bed, desperately trying to turn his brain off. It was no use though, there was too much happening, and he had no answers for anything. He stared blankly out of the open window next to his bed; it seemed so peaceful outside considering the chaos that ensued only a few hours ago. Pavitr decided he couldn’t be idle anymore, not for this. He needed to talk to Miguel.

Springing up from his bed, he grabbed his backpack and once again threw on his Spider-Man suit, grabbing his inter-dimensional watch in the process. Praying the Maya Auntie wouldn’t wake up in the middle of the night and notice his disappearance, he leapt from the window and thwipped his web towards the closest structure. He decided drawing attention to himself in this case would not be ideal. Once he reached a high enough building, he began leaping from roof top to roof top, avoiding swinging through the streets when he could. He wanted to create as little disturbance as possible when traveling to another dimension, those portals that the watch created were not easily missed.

Pavitr stopped on a high apartment complex that looked over a good chunk of the city. Despite all the action that took place today, Mumbattan was bustling like it always does. Traffic as far as the eye could see, flashing lights, crowds of people going who knows where, but to Pavitr, it was home. His home. And he was going to protect it. He had to. Spider-Man had to. As he scanned the city below, something caught his eye when he looked below him. A single light was shining through an otherwise completely dark building. He noticed someone standing on the balcony, a young woman. She was leaning against the railing, arms sitting crossed on top of the bar. She looked familiar, really familiar…it almost looked like…

Gayatri! Pavitr thought before pulling himself away from the edge of the roof. Out of all the places, how could he have chosen the one place his girlfriend lived? He’s never actually been to her place before, on account of Gayatri and him trying to hide their relationship from her father. He did, however, know that she lived in this part of the city. Pavitr approached the edge of the roof again, looking down once more. She was still there, looking over the city as he had been moments before. He wanted so badly to leap down and give her another hug, just to make sure she was alright. But she didn’t know about his secret double life as a crime-fighting superhero, no one did.

He shook his head vigorously, trying to drown out his thoughts. No, no, no, he chastised himself, I CANNOT go down there right now. I can’t just swing down and greet her as Spider-Man! What would she…I mean, how would I…this isn’t…, Pavitr struggled to come up with a good enough reason to walk away right now. He couldn’t. The fact that she had almost perished today left his knees weak and his head spinning. He had to check on her. Ugh, fine! But just for a second. I can come up with some type of excuse…He tossed his bangle and wrapped it around the complex’s chimney. Ever so slowly, he reclined his web downwards until it was at the same level as Gayatri’s balcony.

“Uh, hi Miss,” Pavitr greeted her, waving sheepishly. Gayatri turned her head, her eyes widened as she jumped back slightly before realizing who it was hanging outside of her balcony. She exhaled and waved back, giving him a coy smile. She couldn’t tell, but Pavitr’s heart was almost beating out of his chest. Gayatri’s smile was so comforting and warm, it was his favorite thing about her. “May I, uh, join you for a second?” Pavitr asked. Gayatri nodded and shuffled over so he would have space to land. Using his legs for momentum, he swung himself onto her balcony and retracted his bangle, landing inches away from her. His breath hitched and he clenched his fists when he realized that he was towering over her. Oh, this was such a BAD idea, he thought. But for some reason, Gayatri didn’t seem confused or afraid, which was a better outcome than Pavitr expected. She seemed…relaxed somehow? Both stood there for a few seconds, wordless, but for them it felt like hours had already passed.

“So,” Gayatri finally spoke after what seemed like an eternity, “to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit, Spider-Man? It’s a lucky thing that my father isn’t home yet.” Gayatri moved back from the hero in front of her and leaned her back on the opposite side of the railing where she was standing before, crossing her arms and letting out the slightest hint of a giggle.

“Oh, yes! Well, uh,” Pavitr started to say, rummaging around his head trying to rationalize why he came here in the first place. “I was, y’know, swinging through the city, as I do and…I happened to see you standing here on your balcony. And I recognized you from the bridge today, you were that young woman on that bus. I thought I would umm, check to see if you were alright.” Pavitr mirrored Gayatri’s stance, leaning on the opposite side of the balcony’s edge and folding his arms.

Gayatri chuckled, tucking one side of her hair behind her ear. “I’m alright, thanks to you. Do you always check up on the people you save or is it just the pretty girls?” she teased.

“No, no!” Pavitr stuttered, “I mean, no I don’t always check up on everyone! You are very pretty…WAIT NO, I didn’t mean that! I’m sorry! I MEAN, yes, you’re very pretty, beautiful even, but uh, I just happened to see you out here and I…I should be quiet now!” Pavitr threw his hands over his mouth; he felt his pulse pounding in his ear and sweat starting to form on his forehead. He was unraveling quickly.

Gayatri only shook her head and laughed. “You’re very kind, Spider-Man. It’s not everyday you make a superhero swoon.” 

Pavitr gulped. Something was off, he thought Gayatri would be flustered or even a little bit shy when she was face-to-face (sort of) with his hero persona. But no, it wasn’t like that at all. It was almost like she was…flirting with him? She couldn’t be, could she? Pavitr chuckled nervously, dragging his hand along the back of his neck. “Ha-ha, yeah. Well, I…I think I should get going. I’m glad you’re alright, Miss.” Before he could turn around and grab his bangle, he felt something grab his arm.

“Wait!” Gayatri nearly shouted. Pavitr remained frozen in place, his head telling him to leave but his heart telling him to stay. He chose the latter. Gayatri let his arm go once she realized he was staying put. “Sorry! I…I was wondering…” she continued, looking down at the ground and holding her one arm at her side. “You did save my life today, and your friends saved my father. I owe you more than I can ever repay. But…” she paused, “I can think of one thing I can give you that may convey my gratitude properly.”

Gayatri stepped closer to Pavitr until she was almost chest to chest with him. Pavitr remained motionless, tightly gripping the metal behind him. Tentatively, Gayatri lifted her hand towards the mask covering the boy’s face. She hooked her thumb under the fabric of the mask and looked back at him. Pavitr didn’t move, he couldn’t move, his limbs were frozen, and his voice disappeared. His breathing became shallow, he couldn’t even from a coherent thought. A small grin appeared on Gayatri’s face, slowly she began lifting his mask, finally revealing his lips. Without warning, Pavitr had snapped out of his trance and swiftly took hold of Gayatri’s hand.

“Wait,” he managed to choke out. Pavitr guided her hand down away from him but leaving his mask the way it was. “I’m…I’m flattered, really I am, but I…,” Pavitr trailed off, unable to finish his train of thought. Gayatri didn’t look sad or disappointed when he had stopped her just now, was she smiling?

“So, you’re saying you don’t want a kiss from your girlfriend, Pavi?” Gayatri questioned playfully, taking a few steps away from him.

“Wh…what did you call me?” Pavitr stammered. He stood on her balcony in complete and utter disbelief.

Gayatri only crossed her arms and laughed. “I know it’s you, Pavitr. It’s alright.”

There’s no way she knows, she’s bluffing, Pavitr tried to rationalize in his head. “I’m sorry Miss, you…you must have me confused with someone else! I’m not…”

“Pavitr Prabhakar,” Gayatri said, cutting him off. Her smile slowly faded as she placed her hands on her hips, “enough. Please.”

“I…I’m…” Pavitr stuttered, but it was no use. “I’m sorry.” He let out a deep sigh and reached for his mask. He grasped it and with one quick pull, it was gone. Gayatri hummed, finally seeing the face of the boy she knew was there the entire time. Pavitr remained still, looking down at the ground. He couldn’t bring himself to look up at his girlfriend, a mixture of embarrassment and guilt flowing through him. “How did you know?” Pavitr asked softly, tightening his grip he had on the mask.

Gayatri walked back towards him, seemingly in slow motion, until she was inches away. She reached up and placed one hand on his shoulder and the other under his chin, tilting his head upwards so she could see his eyes. They looked tired, even a little sad. She stood up on her tip toes and planted a small peck on his cheek. His head quickly darted away from her again, doing his best to hide his fluster. His warm red cheeks, however, were not so easy to conceal. Gayatri only giggled and placed her other hand on his opposite shoulder. Instinctively, Pavitr reached down and put his hands around her waist, managing to give her a nervous smile. “You do know my father is a police inspector, right Pavi? I think I’m a little more than capable of putting some clues together. You never really disguise your voice at all, your build is hard to overlook, and especially your naturally perfect hair was a dead giveaway!” She took her hand and began to twirl his hair between her fingers. “I knew it was you for a while now.” Pavitr chuckled, wrapping both of his arms around her and pulling her as close to him as possible. Gayatri smiled warmly and hugged him back like she wanted to back on the bridge.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, Gayatri,” he pulled away from her, leaving one hand on her hip and the other cupping her face, his thumbs drawing circles on her cheek. “I just thought…it would be too dangerous. You and Maya Auntie are the most important people to me. If you ever got hurt, if you were ever in any danger because of me…”, he couldn’t bring himself to finish that thought.

Gayatri took her hand and placed it on top of his own, relishing in his touch. “I know I’m safe as long as you’re here, Pavi. I trust you.”

Pavitr smiled. He felt like the luckiest boy in the world to have a girlfriend who is so genuine and caring. He took his hand off her hip and brought it to her other cheek, cupping her face in his hands. He leaned down, closed his eyes, and pressed his lips against hers. He felt her soft lips curve into a smile as she kissed him back, he didn’t want this moment to ever end. He pulled away from her slowly, staring into her beautiful brown eyes and tucking her hair behind her ear.

“Y’know, if your father ever found out about this, he’d string me up by my own webs!” Pavitr quipped.

Gayatri let out a small chuckle, “Don’t worry about that, I at least know how to keep a secret!”

“Aagh!” Pavitr shouts, placing his hand over his heart, “your words cut so deep! How will I ever recover?!” All of a sudden, Pavitr arms shot out to grab Gayatri by her waist to lift her up in the air and began twirling her in a circle. Laughter escaped from both teenagers, echoing out into the night sky. It was a perfect moment. Almost.

Suddenly, a bright flash appeared across the way, on the rooftop directly in front of the couple. They looked at each other and back towards the now illuminated rooftop, they couldn’t tell what the source of the light could be. It started to take shape, forming rings of hexagons around it. A portal?, Pavitr thought to himself, but it didn’t look like the portals he had seen before. Normally, they were orange and yellow in color. But this one was flashier with a cacophony of different colors; it almost looked unstable. A few more seconds passed before a figure stepped through the portal. From what Pavitr could tell, this person was petite, they were wearing a hood and covered in mostly white. Then it hit him.

“Gwen!” Pavitr nearly shouted, waving to her vigorously. He turned to Gayatri, “It’s alright, she’s a friend, she’s a Spider like me! It’s kind of a long story, but she’s one of the Spiders helped me on the bridge today.” Gayatri smiled and nodded. They turned again to look at where Gwen was standing, but noticed two more figures had emerged from the portal. Pavitr recognized Hobie standing on the left of Gwen immediately. To her right was Peter, his baby Mayday in tow. His happy demeanor quickly shifted; something didn’t feel right.

Gayatri noticed the change in Pavitr’s expression. “Is something wrong, Pavi?”

“I’m not sure,” Pavitr admitted.

Gwen then launched herself over to them, landing perfectly and squatting on the balcony railing. She removed her mask, letting her hood fall behind her. Pavitr looked at her eyes, their bright blue color seemed dimmer somehow, almost drained, with dark circles underneath. She sighed and finally spoke.

“Pav, something’s happened,” she breathed. “It’s Miles, he’s in trouble. I thought I’d grab some friends to join my band.”

“Is Miles alright?” Pavitr asked worriedly.

Gwen sighed and looked away from him. “I’m not sure. I don’t know exactly where he is either, I just know he’s not where he’s supposed to be and that he needs all the help he can get. Are you in?”

Pavitr, still somewhat confused, nodded in determination. Miles saved Inspector Singh today as well as countless other lives; it was his turn to help him.

Gwen turned to Gayatri and stuck out her hand. “You must be Gayatri. I’m Gwen,” she greeted warmly. Gayatri mirrored her motion and shook her hand; Gwen had a stronger grip than she was prepared for. “Pav likes to talk about you a lot.”

“Gwen!” Pavitr scolded, making Gayatri laugh.

“We’ll bring him back in one piece, I promise,” Gwen told her. She turned to Pavitr, thwipping her web behind her in the process. “I’ll umm…give you two a moment.” With that, Gwen had flung herself back on top of the roof with the strange-looking portal.

Pavitr shifted towards Gayatri, holding her arms at her sides and leaning down ever so slightly. “I have to go,” he muttered. “Miles…he’s the one who saved your father today. If he needs help, I need to be there for him.”

Gayatri wrapped her arms around him and squeezed as tight as he could, Pavitr doing the same. “Go,” she whispered. “When you find Miles, please thank him for me.” Both of them let their arms drop down to their sides. “Please be safe.”

“Anything for you,” Pavitr agreed. He placed his hands on her shoulders, leaning down to place a kiss on her forehead. Pavitr leaped onto the railing of the balcony and grabbed one of his bangles. He launched it over to where Gwen and the others were standing. He looked back at Gayatri one last time and smiled. “I’ll see you soon,” he assured her.

“You better,” Gayatri joked, “because I’m very interested in knowing what you’ve been saying to all of your friends about me!”

Pavitr laughed, having a small blush move across his face. “Only good things, of course.” Pavitr reached out his hand, Gayatri placing her own hand in it. He brought her hand up to his face, kissing it softly. “I love you, Gayatri Singh, and I always will.” Without another word, Pavitr launched himself to join the other members of Gwen’s band.

“Ready to go?”, Gwen asked him.

Pavitr looked back to the balcony, waving goodbye one last time to the girl of his dreams. “Yeah,” he boasted, “let’s do this!” The team walked through the portal, the light finally disappearing, leaving Gayatri alone in the night once more.

“I love you more, Pavitr Prabhakar.” Gayatri sighed.

[ankhmutes]

Smoky Kisses in the Moonlight

This is my first attempt at writing DBF! Joel smut. So no under 18s please for this one. Thank you! Under the page break. I mean, come on I'm still learning Tumblr and don't post things like this often so please bear with me.

You and Joel are at a party.....

The party had been going on for more than half the day and it was already late at night, and it was finally- finally winding down. Your dad had left to go pick up more beer. You had been watching his best friend, Joel Miller, all night. Joel had taken off his shirt right before dinner, and had been walking around shirtless all day, making you crazy.

You could see the faint sheen of sweat, or sunscreen, but you didn't care. You only cared about the tight muscles that moved under his skin as he swam, his skin glinting in the sun. Now it was night, and he still shone under the moonlight.

The music was still cranked up and you were feeling confident with that buzz you got from a few good beers. Taking a shot of Jack for confidence, you walked out from the living room, watching him get up from the couch and walk out to the backyard where there was a nice small bonfire going. Everyone else had migrated to the kitchen and living room.

"Shame you can't see the stars much anymore." you say as an opener, your eyes watching Joel sitting in the rickety lawn chair by the fire. You could feel drool in your mouth, and moisture soaking your thin cotton thong as you watched his skin glistening in the firelight.

"Yeah, it's way better up in the country." He said as he exhaled smoke, leaning back in the chair and moving his soft brown eyes up to you. You felt your mouth go dry, and you weren't sure if you had wet yourself out of excitement, or your arousal had soaked through your panties.

Seizing the moment, you sat on his lap and smirked, eyes glinting mischievously. You had been exchanging shy glances with Joel all day, and you had a vague feeling he was too shy to even try anything.

Leaning back, you stretched yourself out far enough to grab a beer bottle by the neck from a small side table, taking a big swig, careful to keep your lips on it just enough to simulate a slight sucking motion.

You could feel something stir. You hoped it was his dick, and you decided to go in for the kill.

"I think I like it best right ... here." you say as you lean forward, cigarette smoke dancing in the firelight. The many different smells overwhelmed you, and you felt erotic in the moonlight, just you and Joel by the fire.

"I'm glad to hear that." he said after a slight beat, his eyes glinting mischievously as his lips twitched around his cigarette. He leaned forward, pausing before the gap was closed between the two of you. You could feel your nipples tightening with anticipation as they felt his skin brush against you. You swore your body was on fire and aching to be touched and filled.

"please." you whispered, licking your lips ever so slightly. Joel leaned back, sucking slightly on his cigarette and then brushed his lips against yours.

The world disappeared in smoke.

There were only you and Joel. your lips pressed against his, and he teased you with his mouth. Smoke filled your mouth, and your senses. You tried to hold on as long as you could, but you needed air. moving ever so slightly, you leaned back and exhaled slowly, smoke blowing away in the slight breeze to join in with the smoke from the bonfire.

Joel kissed you twice more, twice more you were filled with smoke, until you couldn't take it anymore, sliding a leg around to the other side so you straddled him, your soaked panties sliding up against the nice tent in his shorts.

"Baby, the things you do to me." Joel grunted, putting down the cigarette in an ashtray and sliding his hands over your thighs to your ass. His hands brushed against the edge of your panties, and his eyes went to yours.

"There's no going back."

"Nope." you say with confidence, tugging down the band of his shorts, his cock springing free. Joel did not hesistate, nudging aside your thong to slide right in with a quiet gasp that was muffled by your mouth, you riding him hard like the cowboy he was, smirking into the soul-scorching kisses.

"Fuck." Joel groaned as his head leaned back, his hands going to your breasts. His mouth followed suit, torturing your nipples with gentle suctioning kisses until you came, your orgasm muffled with more kisses from Joel, Big and Rich's "Save a horse and ride a cowboy" coming to an end as Joel followed after you, slamming your hips down on his dick that you would feel it for hours afterward, but you didn't care.

"I guess I did my part and rode a cowboy after all." you said after a half-second of catching your breath. Joel's eyes shone with humor as he shook his head, smirking at you as he cleaned himself up with a t-shirt, and you slid around, arranging yourself to give nothing away as you heard the party moving closer to the backyard.

"Beer's here! glad you could take care of Kitten, Joel." your dad said as he came into the backyard carrying two new cases of beer and the party moved back into the backyard around the bonfire. "Hope she wasn't a handful."

Thank you for the encouragement if you have read this far and actually liked it! @chaotic-mystery was an inspiration thanks to some great gifs that were shared of Joel smoking... and I couldn't help myself. I just realized the gif is of Javier Pena, so I guess it can count as Javi too?

[paintbrushyy]

Gentle Gestures

Read on AO3

Ship: Bokuaka

Rating: T

Tags: Birthday fic, presents, kissing, fluff

Summary:

Bokuto brings Akaashi to the roof for a surprise, and Akaashi waits patiently for what it is. ~ "Bokuto-san, what are you doing with all this?" Akaashi places the top on his lunch box and sets it down next to him, adjusting the blanket on his lap. It's warm and very soft. And he recognizes it as one that sits on the top of Bokuto's bed. "Are you finished eating?" Bokuto asks. "Yes, but I want to know what's happening." Bokuto smiles and turns his entire body towards Akaashi. He sits cross legged, and pulls his bag into his lap. "Bokuto-san..." "Shh, you'll understand in a moment Keiji." Akaashi's heart flips at the way he says this, at the use of his given name. They don't use their names very freely yet. They use them in only very intimate spaces, when there's no chance for anyone else to hear. They say them like they're secrets only they know of each other. ~

Bokuto asked if Akaashi wanted to go to the roof during lunch. As soon as he found him on campus that morning, it was like he was waiting to ask. And of course...Akaashi said yes.

Bokuto leads them up the stairs to the top door, opening it in silence. It's bright out, but it's cold, and the wind is sharp on the roof. It cuts deep into their skin. So Akaashi pulls up the loop of his scarf to cover his face more.

"It's cold out here," he comments, but Bokuto doesn't respond, just hums in agreement before sitting down by the fence. He smiles up at Akaashi, still standing by the door. Bokuto pats the concrete at his side to offer Akaashi a seat next to him. He's never been able to deny Bokuto anything. So he sits, folding his knees and opening his lunch in his lap. "Bokuto-san, is there a reason you wanted to sit out here?" Akaashi asks. But again Bokuto just shrugs and seems to dismiss him.

"Just seemed nice out today."

Today, it rings out like a bell in Akaashi's head. It's today. Today is happening, and Bokuto hasn't said the one thing Akaashi had somewhat been waiting for through all his classes. But he doesn't touch the subject, he doesn't want to pressure Bokuto.

"Yeah, I guess it is," he whispers, looking up at the sky.

"Yup." Bokuto's opened his lunch and started eating the sandwich he bought. And Akaashi too lets the questions in his mouth fade as he opens his own lunch.

His mother packed it, and it has some of his favorites. And usually he'd eat his least favorite towards the best part. But today is special, so he decides to start with the best first.

Akaashi picks up the mandarin, pressing his thumb down to try and open it. But it just squishes, and as he struggles to not crush the fruit another hand reaches in between his.

"Here," Bokuto whispers. He take s the fruit, and using his nail, cuts open the skin, and pulls off a peel.

"I think I cut my nails too short this morning," Akaashi whispers as a weak excuse. But Bokuto just shakes his head and continues with a smile. He doesn't have to peel the entire thing, but he does. And Akaashi watches intently as Bokuto's surprisingly gentle hands pull away each piece of skin. Slowly he reveals its heart and then pulls off one small wedge.

"My tax," Bokuto whispers, then hands the fruit back. He pops the mandarin wedge in his mouth and smiles brightly at Akaashi.

Akaashi cradles the tiny mandarin in his two hands and looks up at Bokuto.

"Thank you," he whispers and looks down.

" Any time," Bokuto says. Akaashi eats a wedge of the mandarin, the sweetness bursting in his mouth. And he feels the strangest urge to cry. He can't stop thinking of something he read. About peeling a mandarin meaning "I love you." And even though he's known this. Even though they've said it to each other before. The simple, gentle, act of Bokuto doing this somehow makes it feel like the most real truth on earth.

They eat quietly for sometime, until Akaashi finishes his meal. Bokuto finishes first, and when he does he starts digging around in his bag. He pulls out a blanket that's been shoved and crumpled around his books. And Akaashi watches in silence as he pulls it over them. He holds up his food and lets Bokuto place it over his lap and wonders what's the point. Bokuto is doing something and Akaashi isn't sure what or why. But he watches, trusting the process and waiting for this obvious surprise. But eventually it becomes overwhelming when Bokuto just stares at him and waits.

"Bokuto-san, what are you doing with all this?" Akaashi places the top on his lunch box and sets it down next to him, adjusting the blanket on his lap. It's warm and very soft. And he recognizes it as one that sits on the top of Bokuto's bed.

"Are you finished eating?" Bokuto asks.

"Yes, but I want to know what's happening." Bokuto smiles and turns his entire body towards Akaashi. He sits cross legged, and pulls his bag into his lap. "Bokuto-san..."

"Shh, you'll understand in a moment Keiji." Akaashi's heart flips at the way he says this, at the use of his given name. They don't use their names very freely yet. They use them in only very intimate spaces, when there's no chance for anyone else to hear. They say them like they're secrets only they know of each other.

So Akaashi waits, because now he knows that whatever this is, Bokuto's trying to be loving. Akaashi turns his body to face Bokuto's as well. Slowly Bokuto pulls out a paper container with a small ribbon wrapped around it. Bokuto pushes his bag out of his lap, and positions the box so that when opened the top flips to the side. 

"It's technically a gift, so you should pull the ribbon, but I'm going to light the candle so I'll hold it," Bokuto says.

Akaashi's heart is racing now. They lean into each other, and Akaashi feels their knees start to touch. He reaches and pulls on the red ribbon, pulling it loose until it falls away. Bokuto opens the white box and reveals a bright red red velvet cupcake. It's got white frosting and bits of yellow sprinkles on top.

"Okay," Bokuto whispers. He reaches to his side and pulls out a small birthday candle and places it in the center of the pastry. Then he reaches again and pulls out a lighter, something he very much shouldn't have at school. Akaashi's eyes widen a little. "Don't tell," Bokuto whispers, "I stole it from my kitchen this morning."

A cloud covers the sun overhead. Bokuto with one hand holding the box of the cupcake, lights the candle with the other. And between them it glows over their faces.

"Make a wish, Keiji," Bokuto says and stares over the cupcake, watching him with golden glowing eyes. Bokuto tosses the lighter in his lap, and cups one hand to the side of the flame to keep the wind from blowing it out. He holds it up closer to Akaashi's lips. "Blow it out." Akaashi looks from the cupcake to him and swallows. He closes his eyes and places a hand on Bokuto's knee, leaning forward and blows out the candle.

It's so silent that his breath sounds like a whisper in their ears and when the candle goes out the sun returns. Akaashi opens his eyes. He leans away and Bokuto lowers the cupcake.

"Did you make a good wish?" He asks. It makes Akaashi's heart clench in his chest. He nods.

"Yeah I think I made a good wish." Akaashi can't resist his impulsive decision, and he isn't sure he tries very hard to. He can't stop smiling, and there are bouts of giggles trapped in his chest. He never feels like this at school, he never feels like this in the open, this giddy and overwhelmed. These aren't public emotions. These are emotions he only feels with Bokuto, feelings he only feels when they're alone and believing in forever.

He picks up the cupcake from between them and sets it to the side on the ground. Bokuto watches him with a smile and then his eyes grow wide as Akaashi gets to his knees. The blanket falls from his lap and he feels his legs get colder, but it doesn't faze him. He shuffles closer and Bokuto's hands come up instinctively to hold his hips. Akaashi settles in Bokuto's lap and doesn't wait to pull him into a kiss and let himself be held. He lets go of any fear of being caught and embraces the warmth of Bokuto's body against his own. He just wants Bokuto, kissing him till death.

Bokuto sighs when their lips meet and he kisses Akaashi back easily. His hands tighten slightly as they slide onto Akaashi's waist, and Akaashi can feel Bokuto pulling on his shirt, probably wishing it weren't there. Bokuto's heart is racing under Akaashi's palms at his pulse, holding him as their lips move. There's a cloud that escapes from between them as they both sigh out hot breaths between a kiss, where their warmth meet the cold of winter.

But eventually their smiles get in the way.

"Happy birthday, Keiji," Bokuto whispers when Akaashi pulls away, finally saying what Akaashi was waiting for, what he was silently and patiently wishing to hear.

Bokuto doesn't ask what Akaashi's wish was but Akaashi says it anyway.

"You," Akaashi whispers. And Bokuto's brows turn up a little.

"What?"

"You," Akaashi says, "that's what I wished for, I wished for you."

He swears he sees Bokuto's cheeks get pinker, and he feels the back of his neck get warmer under Akaashi's palm. It makes him smile and he leans in again to place a soft kiss on his lips again, just a peck before pulling away.

"Keiji you cant tell me though, or else it wont come true." Bokuto seems concerned all of a sudden but Akaashi looks at him with a smile and holds him tighter. He shakes his head.

"I don't believe that. Why would keeping something from someone I love make it any stronger?" Bokuto blinks a few times.

"Well cause, cause it's supposed to be between you and the universe."

Akaashi nods at this.

"You are my universe Kou," he whispers, and smiles in a way that almost hurts. "You'll keep my wishes safe, I know you will." He leans forward again, and Bokuto lets him take as he pleases, saying what he wishes and accepting all of Akaashi's truths. He lets his complains dissolve into their kiss, and Akaashi fully indulge in what he's always craving. "Thank you, Koutarou," Akaashi whispers, quietly and hopelessly, wishing on Bokuto's name, knowing in all the world it is the best place to put them.

//END

Thanks for reading! You can find me here on tumblr or on AO3 and twitter! Don't forget to share/reblog so more people can read!

MY AO3

MY TWITTER

[mel-loly]

(Grupo MKS, One Shots/MKS Group, One Shots)

↓To PDF file

Link

Branco/White: Português/Portuguese

Laranja/Orange: Inglês/English

“C” para Charlie.  /“C” for Charlie.

⚠️Aviso⚠️: Morte, cenas “dramáticas”, um pouco de melancolía e frieza.  /⚠️Warning⚠️: Death, “dramatic” scenes, a little melancholy and coldness.

“O túmulo mal feito e a Honestidade de seu visitante/The poorly made tomb and the Honesty of its visitor”

Charlie, ao chegar, olha para baixo..  /Charlie, upon arriving, looks down..

Aquele túmulo mal feito, com só uma pequena cruz em cima e flores em volta. Era assim pois não havia um corpo lá em baixo. Infelizmente, esse corpo, não foi achado, por isso, o túmulo ser tão simples e não ter uma estrutura concreta.  /That poorly made tomb, with just a small cross on top and flowers around it. It was like that because there was no body down there. Unfortunately, this body was not found, which is why the tomb is so simple and does not have a concrete structure.

Charlie pega o buquê que estava dentro da sua mochila. Logo depois a fecha, coloca de volta em suas costas e, cuidadosamente, deixa ali do lado da cruz. Depois volta a sua posição, dá um suspiro e começa a falar.  /Charlie takes the bouquet that was inside their backpack. Soon after, they closes it, puts it back on their back and, carefully, leaves the bouquet there next to the cross. Then they returns to their position, lets out a sigh and begins to speak.

C: Oi Pai... Desculpa por ainda não fazer um túmulo decente pra você.. Eu...  /Hi Dad... I'm sorry for not making a decent tomb for you yet.. I...

Sinto que por um lado, você não merecia mesmo algo que seja “grande coisa”.  /I feel like on the one hand, you really didn't deserve something that was a “big deal”.

Mesmo assim, cumpro a tradição de vir aqui e falar contigo pelo menos uma vez no ano.  /Even so, I follow the tradition of coming here and talking to you at least once a year.

Sabe.. Não sei ainda se você está vivo ou realmente morto, mas isso não me importa de qualquer maneira. Sei que você ainda está comigo..  /You know... I don't know yet if you're alive or really dead, but it doesn't matter to me either way. I know you're still with me..

Você fez muitas coisas ruins no passado, por isso não lhe dei um túmulo totalmente feito, bonito e perfeito, como todos os outros tem. Mas sei que também por um lado, você era bom, e o mais importante, era que você me amava.. Por isso as flores em volta, e cada ano, mais flores são acrescentadas.  /You did a lot of bad things in the past, that's why I didn't give you a completely made, beautiful and perfect tomb, like everyone else has. But I also know that on the one hand, you were good, and the most important thing was that, you loved me.. That's why the flowers around, and every year, more flowers are added.

Charlie olha pro lado.  /Charlie looks to the side.

C: Confesso que ainda amo você..  /I confess that I still love you..

Depois ele coloca uma de suas mãos em seu rosto.  /Then they puts one of their hands on the face.

C: E acredito que mesmo se você estivesse vivo e continuasse sendo um idiota com quase tudo e todos..  /And I believe that even if you were alive and still being an idiot to almost everything and everyone..

Eu ainda continuaria a amar você.  /I would still continue to love you.

Na tentativa de “não chorar”, ele deixa cair uma lágrima de seu olho. O que depois começa com mais delas, fazendo com que o seu esforço tenha sido totalmente em vão.  /In an attempt to “not cry”, they lets a tear fall from their eye. What then starts with more of them, making your efforts have been completely in vain.

E mesmo com tantas lágrimas caindo dos seus olhos e escorrendo pelo seu rosto, ele ainda seguia em silêncio. Depois dessa última frase, ele decidiu se manter quieto, pois sabia que mesmo se ele abrisse a boca, ainda não sairia nada dela.. Fazendo com que só o som da chuva preenchesse o lugar do silêncio.  /And even with so many tears falling from their eyes and running down their face, they was still silent. After that last sentence, they decided to keep quiet, because they knew that even if they opened their mouth, nothing would still come out.. Causing only the sound of rain to fill the place of silence.

Ele permanece ali por um tempo, ouvindo apenas o som da chuva.  /He remains there for a while, listening only to the sound of the rain.

Charlie enxuga suas lágrimas, se vira, e de costas para o túmulo, ele segue em frente. Caminhando devagar e fazendo com que aquela dor que ele poderia ainda ter do passado, desaparecesse por completo. Pois não queria que ela voltasse..   /Charlie wipes away their tears, turns around, and with their back to the grave, they walks forward. Walking slowly and making that pain that they might still have from the past, disappear completely. Because they didn't want it to come back..

Ele acreditava e sempre tinha em mente que coisas assim não valeriam a sua atenção, que isso iria só atrapalhar e o deixar completamente cheio de pensamentos desnecessários....  /They believed and always had in mind that things like this wouldn't be worth their attention, that it would only get in the way and leave them completely full of unnecessary thoughts...

Por um lado, ele sentia ter frieza, mas também com a cabeça limpa e não voltada à dor. Fazendo não culpar a si mesmo por suas poucas palavras ou silêncio em si que fez depois da sua última frase. Sua ida meio “dramática”, também não o fez pensar muito, ele na verdade só queria ir embora de qualquer maneira. Aquele lugar não o fazia e nunca o fez bem. Por isso, são tão poucas vindas que ele faz.  /On the one hand, they felt “emotionally cold”, but also with a clear head and not focused on pain. Making sure to don't blame theirself for their few words or the silence they made after their last sentence. Their somewhat “dramatic” departure didn’t make they think much either, they actually just wanted to leave anyway. That place didn't and never did them any good. That's why they makes so few visits.

Engraçado ser uma vez no ano que ele visitava, e ainda não gostar por completo daquele lugar... Na sua mente, quando ele saía, parecia levar espinhos no peito junto consigo, manchando as suas roupas, com seu próprio sangue. Ele não sabia o porquê, mas ainda de alguma forma, era um sentimento totalmente estressante e ruim. E sem sombras de dúvidas, Charlie odiava isso com todo o seu ser. Pois ele sabia que ainda havia uma dor em seu coração, tal qual ele não aceitava e por isso sua frieza com esse assunto.  /It's funny that it was once a year that they visited, and still didn't completely like that place... In their mind, when they left, they seemed to carry thorns in their chest with them, staining their clothes with their own blood. They didn't know why, but still somehow, it was a totally stressful and bad feeling. And without a shadow of a doubt, Charlie hated it with all their being. Because they knew that there was still a pain in their heart, which they didn't want to accept and that was why they was cold on this subject.

Ele era teimoso e deixava com que o seu orgulho o tomasse conta.  /They was stubborn and let their pride get the better of them.

~Fim/End~

Muito obrigado para quem leu até aqui e tenha um ótimo dia/noite!💛 Thank you very much to anyone who read this far and have a wonderful day/night!💛

[exielimon]

I don’t believe I’m making one of these ever again, I just needed to get it out of my head, I’m not a writer. Anyways LU first and probably last fic.

This one is called-

Thought it was normal

I am really sorry if there are mistakes along the text, my native language is not english.

——

“hey bro…?”

“hm?”

“I can’t find my earphones, do you have something I can borrow?”

“Uhhh… yeah, you see, that box on the table beside the front door? there should be my earphones, but I advise you, they sound quite low.”

“Okay thank you!”

I have always had an imaginative mind, I was always imagining myself into non-physically-posible situations, always distracting me from my reality and getting me out of the pain of boredom. I was doing that too, in the moment I heard a thud behind me through the music in my brother’s black earphones. I could always hear that type of weird noises in my house, it was not haunted, I am sure of that because my parents built it, so I was not worried, I was even used to it. I looked over my shoulder, glancing around the kitchen and as expected, not finding anything, again, I could always hear those type of sounds, specially around that hour, around one in the morning I mean, but this was normal, never happens anything.

I turned around to see the dishes again, my music still playing.

There was a window in front of me, a big window actually. It was in the very front of my house, facing the street of my neighborhood, I couldn’t see through it because of the lack of light outside, so in that pitch black, I could only see reflection from inside my house and some lights from outside.

This reflection confused me when I saw two little red dots glowing in the cristal of the window, it was not a car outside, since they were beside one another and not one on top of the other, they were too small anyway… and they didn’t shine, they were only… there… glowing slightly… growing closer… wait- closer?!

The reflection still confused me when I turned around with a slight gasp leaving my lips and I didn’t find anything of such fire-like color. Wait… I never got scared of things like this… what’s happening…? the feeling of being watched was always present, it was normal too… it was present here too… but this was different from other times… it was never more that the beginning 'thud'… what the heck?

I tried to ignore it again… never happens anything anyway… I turned to see the window once more, the glowing dots were still there… but didn’t move anymore… now they…- it… was closer… almost could feel it’s breath in my right ear through the still playing music… or… wait… I can feel it’s breath… what was that dark thing in the corner of my eye?! what-

I turned my head, stepping quickly to the opposite way, there was nothing…

“what the…-“

The window had a pitch black again, nothing of another color… I ignored it again… it was over, I was just tired, or at least that’s what I wanted to believe, it was almost two in the morning, when had an hour passed…?

I finished the dishes and took my stuff, my phone, the box of my brother’s wireless earphones and drank a cup of water.

Going to the stairs and glancing back to the window of the kitchen is the last thing I remember of my home. Those red glowing dots were mocking at me again through the reflection. I felt my foot slip from a step, then my vision was void-black.

I am now lying in who-knows-where, I can see a blue sky and a few leaves producing shade over my eyes, is sounds peaceful, I feel a little dizzy actually… my vision is blurring again… I think my head hurts, I don’t know, I don’t believe I’m thinking straight, the slurred sounds of someone screaming in the distance are proving so… it’s silly…

Uh…

Blue sky…? a tree…? was I not inside my house…? Why do I feel grass beneath my body…? I’m sure I was going to sleep…

who’s screaming…?

I glance to my left, I can’t exactly see, my vision is growing more blurred by every second, I can spot a few people, a few of them look like they’re searching something frenetically through… what is that… their bags I guess…?

heh, this is how my friend who never wears her glasses sees?? that’s fucked up…

Oh right… back to where I am…

Where am I??

My arm looks a little… hurt… that rock over there looks sharp… that would explain the numb in my arm, I wonder if I got more hurt… why do those people look so panicked…? why is my vision fading again…?

My eyes fall shut, I don’t think they noticed I opened them anyway. Uh, whatever, I’ll wake up in the morning and I’ll be depressed because it was a dream and nothing interesting or out of the usual actually happened…

Or that’s what I thought…

“Ugh…”

That is the only thing that left my mouth while waking up, I had a terrible headache, I felt dizzy again, my eyes felt like they were spinning in their spot under my eyelids, I lay on the blanket that was on the floor, I don’t remember sleeping on the floor, but I always do it, so it’s normal, I’ll ignore it.

My hand went to cover my eyes, even if I didn’t feel any light, just want to rub the sleep away, but it’s only making it worse. I open my eyes under my hand and it hurts, why do I feel like I’m going to dismantle…? what hap…-

Oh… I tripped…

I push myself to a sitting position and realize… I’m not in my room… I can’t see straight, as if I did stand up too quickly… I only sat up god damn, but I can’t feel my room… the first thing I see after the black in my eyes finishes fading is a camp in the middle of what looks like a forest… what the heck… I look around there’s a blonde person beside me… they seem asleep, but I can’t tell with my blurred vision, c’mon I need to see! they wear a red clothing and a blue cap… weird combination but doesn’t look bad, huh…

After a few seconds I rub my eyes again, I’m still not thinking straight… why am I not getting worried over the fact that I’m not in my house? who’s this… guy…? I honestly can’t tell with my vision like this.

I scan myself, I’m patched up for some reason, every sore spot in my body seems to be treated, I’m wearing different clothes, I’m on a bedroll on the veil of dry fallen leaves from the trees above my head, it’s reasonable, but doesn’t answer the main question forming inside my head while consciousness returns to my mind:

“What the fuck is happening…?”

The person beside me seems to wake up, seems like my question caught him off guard because how he reacted.

“I’M ALERT!!” he jumped to a seated position.

It’s a little funny how I’m staring at them, but they are looking at me the same way, so I guess they won’t get mad, I’m just looking confused anyway.

“Uh- you’re awake!” he leans closer to me as if inspecting my… wounds… “how are you feeling? do you feel dizzy? do you need another potion?”

“Wh- calm down, I can’t think straight-“

My voice is hoarse, just like I always wake up. “I… feel dizzy, yeah, it’s fading tho… and… wait- did you just say 'potion'?!”

“yeah- what, are you allergic or something?!” the blonde looks kinda confused now… a little worried.

“No- I just… uh… what the heck…? why do you look so much like…” my vision came back!! finally!! the person in front of me looks freaky alike the Veteran from that amazing comic named Linked Universe I just started following weeks ago… but why…? can this be a cosplayer? what a cool background, it’s so realistic, but when did I end up with this guy in his study?

“Like…?” the guy got tired of looking at me dazing off

“Uh… where am I? who are you? what the heck is happening? I have a lot of questions actually” one of them is: why am I not freaking out…?

“Uh… of those questions I can only answer one actually…- I have no Idea where we are actually, me and my group are lost as well, you see, we’re not from here and since you are the only person we’ve found in like seven hours, we thought you could tell us…” He explains, looks like we’re both screwed up. “I have no idea what is happening to you and… the name’s Veteran or Legend

I prefer Vet tho, all are nicknames since, you’ll see, me and my friends all have the same name”

“Uh- what the- yo for real…? is this not a cosplay…? because if it is I really am not a part of the role, I’m actually really confused.” what the heck does this guy mean…? sure he looks exactly like the guy from the comic, and that is worrying me.

“yeah uh… cos-… what?” oh lord… “you sure hit your head hard huh?” he chuckled.

“Oh for fuck’s sake… is this even real?” Well there it is, I’m starting to freak out.

“Uh- what a language, I guess you’re in your right this must a lot to process after waking up of such a hit-“ He paused for a moment and returned to the process of making sure I didn’t loose my mental state. “do you remember what were you fighting or what caused you that?”

“Uh- cause me what?” My freaking out did not fade, but my mind focused more on my confusion.

“Look at you, you look like your body is going to snap like a bunch of sticks”

“Huh?” I remembered my aching body “Uh, that… I- listen, if you’re not a cosplayer then just don’t ask how I know this, but I am not from 'around here' either, I am from another world… not a timeline, a whole different world, a world where… actually you shouldn’t exist-… doesn’t matter- the point is… I need to get back, if I am where I think I am, then I shouldn’t be here, I’ll die with the first monster!“

“Woah woah- calm down, first I am definitely going to ask how you know that- but later. And second, if you know that- then you should know that I don’t know how to get back either.”

“Oh… right, why the fuck am I so calm now…? I’m in a fucking different world and…-“ I pause thinking again about the last moment I saw my home, I was holding something… what was it? My hand goes to touch my ear and seek for something that I wish wasn’t there, but it was… my brother’s earphones. “Did I… have something on my hands when you found me?”

“Uhm… Oh yes!” he took a hand to his pocket and started looking for something, taking out two things: my phone and the little black box of the earphones. “you were clutching at it really hard, we thought it was important, even if we didn’t know what it is…” he stretched out his hand for me to grab the devices.

“Oh thanks!” I opened the case and put the wireless earphones inside. “So… where are the others?” I glance at the ashes of the campfire, it still has fathoms, as if it hasn’t been too long since it was extinguished.

“my group? some went to-“

“We’re back! at least us, heh” someone interrupted stepping inside the clearing. A person with blonde hair, blue eyes, scar all over the left side of their face and a sky blue shirt with the design of a sword pointing down. I recognize this guy.

Before one of them reacted, three more people walk behind him: A brunette taller guy with a white… cape? no, I recognize him too, that’s a sailcloth, sky’s sailcloth. Another guy also brown hair and a green tunic, as simple as that, I recognize them too. And for the last, a small guy, his blonde hair reaches his shoulders, wears a green band on the forehead and his tunic splits on four different colors, heheh, if these guys knew what that means.

One of them notices the stranger waken up, me. Sends a kind smile at me and sets the things he had in his hands where the shorter blonde guy asks him to.

“I see you’re awake” He comes close and sits down in front of me, oh lord I hate eye contact.

“You think?” What the hell was that answer? it is a joke but I’m not sure if they’ll get it, what if they think I’m rude-

A chuckle. They got the joke fine. Oh thanks lord.

“Oh-kay why do you say that, you still dizzy?”

“Uh- no… yes… shit I still can’t think straight”

“oh well- language, young one”

“uh- sorry” I rub my eyes again.

“Oh good! they woke up! everything okay?” A voice can be heard from behind the brunette in front of me, I think it’s from the shorter blonde, I can’t tell. “they didn’t freak out?”

“oh yeah, I forgot I had to freak out” honestly it’s surprising that I’m so calm, the fact that I am in a totally different world probably infested with unknown monsters and creatures, infinite different ways of me dying alone and that I’m with the reincarnations of what’s probably a god of courage… yeah, I should probably freak out now… somehow I feel happiness instead…

“Please don’t, you’re doing well ‘til now”

the blonde besides me speaks once again. now that I realize, his pink streaks are very faded, but I can see them clear. I was wondering why I couldn’t see them while my vision was blurred, but I can understand why now.

“Ok fine…”

“So, do you recognize this place?” the brunette started again “I’m sorry to be asking you when you just woke up… we don’t actually-“

“I don’t know either”

“huh?”

“I’m not from this world either… last thing I remember is tripping over a step on the stairs of my house, after that… everything is unknown…” I explained, it’s weird… I’m not good with words… I can’t actually remember a single time when I spoke so fluidly to a person, I’m a god damn introvert. “except for you…” I whispered under my breath, fortunately, they didn’t catch it.

“A-and how do you know we’re…” the brunette- Sky is stuttering, maybe I should’ve just said that I hit my head too hard and lost my memory. Oh well.

“I… I know a lot of things… long story short, I’ve… seen you…? as an omniscient-being…?” I think I’m gonna break him “now I am the one asking you not to freak out”

The silence feels awkward now, the boy in front of me looks confused and horrified at the same time, and I can feel the glare, that the pink streaked beside me is shooting to my neck as if it’s burning my skin with the same expression, the other three behind Sky are staring too, I think I’ve said too much, oh fucking god… I screwed up and I don’t know how to fix such bullshit. “I… I’m not your enemy tho…” as if that’s gonna calm them down.

The taller blonde- Wild starts to approach, he seems wary, almost as if he’s approaching some wind aggressive animal, that’s rude.

“Uhm… s-should we… suspect?” The blonde approaching asks slowly to his mate, the skyloftian.

“I’m right here y’know?” I huff offended, yep, that was rude. I decide to rub my eyes again while they rebuild themselves and then take the same hand through my head, how long have I been sweating?

The movement of my hair lets the pink streaked- Veteran see my right ear with a golden (and dirty because of the use) earring.

“Guys…? I know I’m the least likely to trust people and I’m the most paranoid of this group, but I think they say the truth…” the Veteran suggests, looking at my earring as I let my hair fall again.

I turn my gaze to the guy next to me, he’s not looking at my eyes, he’s looking at my ear… “huh…? oh- that.”

“What do you mean…?” The skyward boy asks still with a wary voice, which I just take as they do want an explanation to trust me, yet is still not sure if he should.

This is my opportunity to prove them that I’m not lying “Look, I only know about your adventures, don’t go thinking I’m a weird stalker” I take a bit of my hair behind my ears each side, letting see my the different ears. ”Also I wasn’t expecting this to be relevant”

“Woah…” the Wild hero seems convinced now.

“Well, if you think about it…”Legend starts explaining, which is weird because I always thought he would be the most difficult to convince. “it shouldn’t be relevant… but it does prove you’re not from a Hyrule…” well that’s true “I don’t believe the Yigas are so smart for something like this” He turns his gaze to his wild brother, which the other answers with a shrug, yet somehow looking with agreement.

“The old man and the Captain will know what to do” Sky states “They will decide if we should trust them”

“Again, I’m right here.” well that’s annoying.

“Oh- sorry, didn’t mean to”

———

The rest of the heroes arrived, they were haunting and some hoard of monsters caught them off guard, or at least that’s what they look like, some scratches, bruises and the open minor slashes they had all over their clothes.

Time, Twilight, Warrior and Wind. The minor part of the group, but the ones that enjoy spending energy on active stuff, or simply, they like causing trouble like the gremlins they actually are.

But I did not have much time to think abut that and mock in my head over the topic; for now, while the others are chatting around a campfire, I find myself separated, with four beings that emanate authority: A war god, a divine blue-eyed beast, a captain of the royal knights and the murderer of an evil god and creator of the most powerful weapon against darkness. Without mentioning again that I’m with a bunch (now nine) of reincarnations of the spirit of courage himself.

Time, Twilight, Warrior and Sky are sitting in front of me and the only thing I can think about is “Why are you looking at me like that…?” I am feeling threatened…

Time, with his stoic face and the markings of the fierce deity on his face. His only ocean blue eye looking deep into my soul. He’s resting his elbows on his knees and his chin on his intertwined hands.

The Captain Warrior next to him, one of his ankles resting on the opposite knee, resting his elbow on the other knee and covering his mouth with two fingers of the same resting arm. Why does he have to scan me like that???

Twilight is sitting straight, arms crossed and knees just in a sitting position.

The Skyloftian just seems tired, he’s resting his face on his hand, elbow on his knee.

“seen us?” the rancher starts “how?”

Don’t think I can just tell them they’re mere characters from a franchise. “Y-you’re really famous around my word…” how am I even planing to justify the timelines then?! “my… my world is really advanced on technology… we… discovered the…the branches of the timelines… now you have a place in history” that’s an excuse, but not exactly the truth, will they believe?

“That far in the future…?” the warrior is impressed.

The timeless hero doesn’t. He glares at me like he can sense my hidden truth.

“It is impressive… but doesn’t exactly answer the ‘seen us’ part.” that emotionless eye is burning my skin.

“Uhm… history books… representations… even TV shows…” I chuckle quite nervously, I hope they didn’t notice that, which is most likely that they did.

“What is a ‘TV show’?”

“Uh… it’s a… show displayed on a screen… or most likely a device that… well, emits light different colors forming an image with movement… plays those type of shows for a general public that has that same type of device… named ‘television’… ‘Tv’ for short… I’m not good with technical explanations”

“oh, something like Wild’s slate… but with different meanings??”

“yeah… entertainment and emission of news…” Okay this is getting better.

“well that is an advanced future… with such advanced knowledge on technology, and to use it to mere entertainment… would be easy to discover a lot of things” the old man states, but why does he sill seem wary? his eye doesn’t show a bit of softening. “but” oh god. “how did you get here then? you don’t look like an adventurer or a time traveler, sure you wouldn’t just enter a portal because you saw it”

oh, shit I thought he was gonna throw a question that would tear me apart. “Uh, I’m not actually sure, I was in my house, the last thing I remember is tripping over a step on the stairs… I was just going to sleep”

“Anything weird before that? some presence…? a shadow?” this Old man is getting to the point, good.

“uh actually… yes, now that I think about it, there was a presence, but that type of things always happens at my home, so I don’t think it’s relevant” At least I can say this more relaxed.

“Maybe it was taking advance of that situation to be near. We’ve been dealing with a shadow version of us and we believe you could be involved.” the ranch-hand just wants to finish this, he seems tired. “did you not see something? perhaps with red eyes?”

“Uh… red eyes…?” the image of the glowing dots on the window return to my mind. The simple thought of it is making me shiver and returns the cold feeling of being watched. “I…”

I’m shaking, that thing was behind me and playing with my mind. It was right over my shoulder. I couldn’t see it, it could be here right this instant, it could be reaching its hand or claw at me right in this moment. A cold breeze runs through my back, I’m afraid to look back, the anxiety is running through my body and I am staring at…- what am I staring at? I can’t register, my mind is only waiting for the moment when that thing clenches my shoulder and shoves me into a black-pitch void.

A hand on my shoulder makes my head snap in that direction, a gasp leaving my lips and realize that is nothing else than the hand of a rancher, trying to make me breath steadily. Since when did I stop breathing-?

“hey- you with us?” The blue-eyed beast asks.

Aww he so gentle! I wanna hug him!! wait- back to the present. “y-yeah… I think… I think I did saw a thing with red eyes… on a reflection that was already black…” the mere memory of it is got me shivering, god damn that thing even touched me-

“Then you must be meant to come with us… you definitely have something to do with all of this… and if you have so much information about us, we sure cannot leave you at your mercy exposed to that thing… no offense, but you don’t look like a fighter either.” Sky mid-woke up, poor baby is eepy.

Wht- it’s weird now that they are real people- grown mans even, I can’t go thinking that!

They invite me to have dinner among the rest around the campfire, they are talking low, but they enjoy themselves, and I enjoy this meal, goddamn they fanfics do not lie, Wild cooks delicious.

“so… now that you’ll be coming with us…”The question makes my head snap out of my thoughts, redirecting my gaze towards Four who has the only position that seems to be directed at me. “You said you’re not a fighter, that means you’re not a Link, so… What’s your name?”

The rest of the group stare at me, expecting an answer. Oh satan, I hate so much eyes on me… what do I tell them? My real name? it’s in Spanish and long, may be difficult for them to pronounce it. The nickname I chose for myself? well, maybe, but it sounds kinda weird, may be the best option but still. ‘Player’? I can’t go explaining why that name. Am I taking too long to answer?!

“Uhm… w-why don’t you make a nickname for me?”

“Sounds great! we can have fun while making a new nickname!” Wind states in his childish excitement, I swear he’s adorable and did not deserve anything of what he’s been through.

I take a look around me as the others start thinking my new nickname, I realize now why I didn’t freak out… I feel safe around them… their heroic aura is so strong that their mere presence is calming… Besides, the happiness may be because this is actually happening and not just another of those dreams which I wake up from and instantly get bored. Or at least I hope so…

[kitsune024]

Loki & Thor Fanfiction

hubris is for people who see trees as gallows by LadySilvertongue

"Loki?”

The figure on the throne raises its horned head, and Thor’s heart begins to race as his brother’s face greets him.

Chapters 1/1

[redroomroaving]

They asked for no pickles (T, Geraldus x He Who Was modern AU one shot)

Geraldus is having a bad night of service working as a waiter under the terrifying glare of the former 'Raven of Camden Lock', now 'He Who Was', disgraced rising star of the London culinary scene; and he's got an order wrong.

Geraldus x He Who Was, modern restaurant AU one shot fic

(from the Harper Prince Hamlet discord sprint event, thank you to @tickitytockityrattityrottity. for the prompt. If you want to join us on discord to talk about Geraldus, come say hi.)

Geraldus placed the plate down on the pass with a gentle clink, and took a breath, pushing a lock of hair behind his ear.

This is ridiculous, it’s just your job. Come on. Everyone makes mistakes.

He cleared his throat.

“Excuse me,” he spoke up, immediately coming out less confident than he had hoped.

Almost immediately, he was met with a pair of dark, almost black eyes, sharp and withering, clouded like a tempest, and felt all of his confidence melt right out through his shoes.

“Yes?” The chef’s hand poised, mid-plating of some delicate micro-greenery, his cold expression speaking the volumes and volumes of irritation contained within that one word reply.

“It’s… uh-”

Geraldus was stumbling, immediately; feeling suddenly very hot in his cheeks in this already unbearably hot kitchen. All around him, the clattering of knives, of sizzling and frying, oil hissing and calls across the crowded space.

“Behind!” A voice called from beyond in the kitchen, and Geraldus’ eyes flitted up quickly, spotting as the sous-chef, Donnick, hurried past him, carrying a pan that was very much on fire.

The chef let out a hiss under his breath, watching him go.

“That is a very expensive Hestan,” he called after him, not quite raising his voice, but not really needing to.

Their Head Chef, who the rest of the kitchen had taken to calling ‘He Who Was’ for reasons that Geraldus thought were rather mean spirited - carried a certain level of menace with even a lowered tone that he rarely needed to.

His work now doubly disrupted, the chef straightened up a bit; letting his tweezers drop now to one side of the plate, and looked at Geraldus once more, fixing him with that disdainful stare that would have made anyone feel like shrinking into the floor.

“‘It’s’ what?” He asked, words sharp and clipped.

It didn’t help that the Chef had almost no interest in fitting into this place; making him stand out impossibly against the surroundings, with his bleached white hair, ridiculous smeared charcoal eyeliner and his numerous tattoos, looking every bit the cool ‘I used to be a real, Michelin star Big Deal, did you know I trained under Michel Roux Jr before I got stuck here with all of you’ hipster he was.

Geraldus steeled himself, standing a little taller now.

“They asked for no pickles,” he said.

The chef looked up at him, and raised a slow, bleached brow.

“They did not,” he said firmly.

Geraldus glanced back towards the restaurant floor, thinking about the irate couple back there, and their specific, scathing fury. He was used to picky customers, and to being treated like he was little more than a floating tray to be shouted at, but this evening had been particularly full of them.

This, of course, being partly why he’d had to psych himself up every step of his path back here to the pass, to face up to Chef Evas and his reckoning with ‘The Raven of Camden Lock’.

“I … they did,” Geraldus said equally as firmly, trying to hold his ground.

The chef held his gaze, his eyes on him the entire time, burning holes right through him as he reached across, ripping the pinned order from its clip in one swift movement and holding it up.

“Harper,” he said bluntly, “read this order.”

Geraldus winced; ‘Harper’ was no kind term, a reference to the old restaurant he had worked at before he’d ended up here, which he knew fully well Evas meant as every bit the unsavoury insult his tone had suggested.

Geraldus took a breath, and looked over it.

“Evas,” he said, gently, and pointed to the scribbled addition in the corner, in bright, sparkling red and circled, ‘NP’, “see?”

Evas’ eyes narrowed further, now looking almost black, and he turned the note over.

“Klaus,” he called out.

As if summoned by magic, Geraldus heard the little, familiar click of metal and jewellery as the maître de appeared beside him, shooting Evas a big, warm grin.

“Fearless leader,” Klaus greeted brightly, and, leaning against the pass, gave Geraldus a quick wink, “tall, dark and handsome.”

Geraldus shifted a little, feeling himself blush a bit, and quickly trying to compose himself.

“Klaus,” Evas said, with a low sigh, “your last minute scribbles do not count as instructions. In future, you will come here, and you will speak to me. Understood?”

Klaus grinned, shooting him a finger gun.

“You got it, sir.”

Evas took the plate from the pass, a deep, world weary sigh as he grabbed the order and returned back to the kitchen in a furious, determined whirl.

Geraldus sighed, feeling all of the tight wired anxiety in him releasing, and slumping against the pass a moment, relieved.

“There there,” Klaus rested a hand on his shoulder, giving him a little smile, “you survived.”

Geraldus looked up at him, despondent.

“He hates me,” he said.

Klaus shrugged.

“He hates everyone,” he said with a little shrug, “wouldn’t you? One bad review and you go from being ‘The Raven of Camden Lock’ to ‘He Who Was’.”

Geraldus looked up now, watching Evas’ quick form as he cleared through, grabbing another fillet from the prep trays and casting it into the pan artfully, a quick flourish with his fingers as swirled the pan in his particular, unique way, his specific form of artistry the sort of secret Geraldus couldn’t hope to understand.

Ruined reputation or not, he was still the best Chef in London, Geraldus thought.

Klaus and the others didn’t realise how lucky they were to be able to work with someone like that, the kind of person they might never get the chance to otherwise if he hadn’t been kicked out of The Raven Queen.

Klaus was watching him a moment longer, a needling sort of smile growing.

“Is that why all the orders have been wrong tonight, Geraldus?” He asked, wryly, “well well well.”

Geraldus felt himself flushing again.

“I don’t - it’s not…”

A moment later there was a sharp clack, the plate replaced in front of him.

“Without pickles,” Evas said, and waved his fingers across it with a little, sarcastic flourish.

“Thanks,” Geraldus smiled, giving him a quick nod.

He turned, hurrying back to the table as quickly as possible.

–

She looked up at him, expression of disgust growing, eyes widening.

“No,” she said, pushing the plate back towards him, “no we didn’t ask for this.”

Geraldus hesitated, feeling his stomach turning miserably. Not again, he thought; not the third course, now, not to their liking.

“You asked for the panna cotta with-”

“No,” she said, “this is dairy. I said I can’t eat dairy.”

What do you think a panna cotta is? Geraldus thought, frustrated.

“This is the third time you’ve gotten our order wrong,” her husband said, beside her, voice terse and frustrated, face reddening, “I thought this place was supposed to have a reputation - we’d like to speak with him.”

Ah, Geraldus thought miserably. This is what this was really about.

“I can’t - I…”

“He’s here, isn’t he? ‘The Raven of Camden Lock?’”

Geraldus looked between them, hesitant. They’d been hideous all night; the last thing he wanted to do was inflict these two on Evas, too, not after a night like this one.

“Yes, but-”

“Then get him,” the husband demanded, sitting back in his chair with arms folded, “or can’t you even understand an instruction that simple?”

Geraldus sighed. He wasn’t going to have much choice at this rate; these two were that particular kind of trouble that couldn’t be just bargained away. Maybe if he was like Klaus, who seemed to have a way with these things.

He nodded, feeling himself flush with shame, and turned, ready to head back to the kitchen, but, to his surprise, found himself walking straight into the solid wall of another.

He met dark, sharp eyes, looking up at him, expression of subtle exasperation on Evas’ impassive features.

His hand, very briefly, catching Geraldus’ arm. Geraldus felt the sudden shock of his unexpected contact; his fingers surprisingly cool, and his grip surprisingly gentle, but firm.

He swallowed; he’d never actually been this close to him, and now that he was, he was uncomfortably aware of his own speeding pulse. Oh, no, he thought, realising exactly what it was Klaus had been teasing him about earlier.

“He understood you perfectly well,” he turned to look at them, “and has understood you perfectly all fucking evening.”

He turned now, releasing Geraldus as he folded his arms, looking at the couple and tilting his head, just a little, to one side.

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” He said, “are you satisfied, now you’ve seen me?”

The couple exchanged a look, the husband, in particular, looking a particularly boiling shade of red.

“I can quite see why they got sick of you at The Raven Queen,” the husband started, “with that sort of attitude…”

Evas gave them a small, creeping sort of grin, a little invited menace to it.

“If you are not a fan of our service,” he said, “you’re quite welcome to find better elsewhere. We will not miss you.”

–

Geraldus sucked in a deep breath of cool air, pressing himself back against the wall, looking up at the night. He quickly reached up, finally able to loosen his stifling collar, and pulled his hair free of its tight ponytail, letting it fall across his shoulders - immediately releasing the tension in his scalp.

Gods but that had been the longest night since he’d started at this place.

In the dark, across the alley, he heard a shift, and nearly startled right out of his skin.

Emerging from the shadow, leaning against the wall, Evas held out a lit cigarette to him across the space with a small, inscrutable smile.

Geraldus caught the familiar whiff of it; not a cigarette, he realised, a joint.

“Oh, uh…”

Evas raised a light brow.

“You need it,” he said, “almost as much as I do.”

Geraldus took another breath in. Probably, he thought. He nodded, taking it from him, a quick brush against his fingers.

Shit, he thought, realising he really did have a stupid crush on him.

“I’m sorry about…” Geraldus hesitated, sighing, “everything, tonight.”

Evas’ small smile grew. He took in a step closer as Geraldus took in a deep inhale, feeling the smoke filling up his lungs, a welcome wave of lightness hitting his mind almost immediately.

He tried to hold it in, but found it catching his throat immediately, and couldn’t help but cough, spluttering smoke into the air.

Evas let out a small, sharp, delighted sort of laugh. He’d never heard him laugh; not once, in the entire time he’d worked with him.

“You’ve not done this before, have you?” He asked.

Geraldus shot him a sheepish look, smiling and handing it back to him.

“No,” he admitted, “it’s that obvious, huh?”

“Hmm,” he let out a small, low murmur, “here.”

He took in a breath himself, a deep inhalation, and then stepped forward; reaching for him. His hand circling suddenly around Geraldus’ neck, pulling him towards him.

Geraldus gasped in surprise as Evas brought his lips to his own, parting them with his tongue and exhaling, gently, into his mouth; smoke spilling into his throat, wisping around and between them both in the cold air in tendrils.

Geraldus froze solid, his heart racing into a sudden flurry as he felt Evas’ tongue graze against his own, a sudden spark running through him.

The heady hit of the smoke, the sudden taste of his tongue, salt and peppermint; a kiss, now, gently exploring, as Evas’ fingers about his neck circled just a little tighter.

Evas broke back; a little smoke still curling from his lips, holding his gaze for just a moment there in the dark, before stepping back.

“Good work tonight,” he said, that small smile growing just a little, and flicked the end of the joint to the floor, crushing it under his shoe.

Geraldus held his breath. The smoke in his lungs burning, his heart pounding furiously now as he watched the chef turn and head for the back door, throwing up a hand as he went.

“See you tomorrow, Geraldus,” he said.

Geraldus finally exhaled as the door clicked closed behind him.

Oh, no, he thought, again, standing there helplessly in the dark, listening to the distant sounds of the city and his own furiously beating heart, wondering what on earth he was supposed to do now.