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@fan5fics
i've gone and done it
a while ago i was encouraged to post all my minifics from here on ao3! here we go!
All previously posted on tumblr, most under 1k. Posting Monday, Thursday, Saturday, tags in notes of individual fics. Hope you enjoy!
Starting with a favorite--Safe Harbor! (the taakitz lighthouse soulmate au)
https://archiveofourown.org/works/34503445/chapters/85877374
i am a FOOL apparently because i don't read beyond one post what if blupjeans and the SHOETIE to CROTCH
Both of them freeze solid. Neither of them dare to breathe for a moment, and then Lup gently tugs her head again, and again, her hair is pulled. She’s not just a little stuck. This is a desperate moment. And neither of them can acknowledge it whatsoever, or they will absolutely fucking perish. Lup may be on her way to perishing anyway, and she would honestly like to get it over with sooner rather than later.
Those famous jeans have fucked her over. If Barry wouldn’t cry about it, she’d insist they be burnt immediately. But even that takes a back seat to the absolute fucking crisis going on here, fully, violently threatening their very delicately balanced friendship and the broken teeter tooter of Lup’s other, very deep feelings beneath.
“I think I’m stuck,” she says, very quietly, very calmly.
“Seems that way,” Barry says, like he’s talking to a skittish horse on methamphetamines and red bull. “How- uh. How can I help, help you, uh. Help you, get. Unstuck.”
Lup holds very, very still. She can’t pull back, risking ripping her hair out of her fucking head like one of the thrift store dolls she submitted to horrors beyond mortal comprehension and telenovela-style drama many, many years ago. She’s been working hard to grow it this fucking long. She never should have flipped it when she bent to tie her shoe, but it’s hard not to fuck around with it when Barry is close--she’s been trying to classically condition him with her new shampoo, and also it’s a nervous habit.
She also cannot, can not lean against him. Because her hair is stuck in his button, and she would fully be leaning against his crotch. Thus, the perishing. Rapid and desperate rapture. Disintegration. Melting like jello in a dishwasher. End her, end her now.
She floats delicately somewhere in the middle. There is not a lot of middle to float in. This is precarious to the highest degree.
“Um,” she says, wise and classy and creative. A real problem solver. “Not ripping it out of my head.”
“Right.” His voice is still damningly steady, like he somehow knows she’d fall apart if they really acknowledged this. He better fucking not know why. If he fucking knows she’s deeply in love with him and hasn’t done something about it, she needs something a lot more effective than spontaneous combustion. She needs to never have existed at all. “Maybe If I.” He gently puts a hand on the back of her head. She squeezes her eyes shut and tries not to think about it. His hand is warm and gentle and thick and she wants to hold it, and she wants it to be holding her here in an entirely different context, and she wants to evaporate him with her eye lasers and never look at him ever, ever again.
She’s a complex woman.
“If- uh. If what?”
“I’ll just be...gentle.” Lup swallows. Barry delicately tugs right at the bit of hair caught in the button. It hurts, but not as much as the initial yank. Oh, that he could pull her hair another day, another way… She’s dying. She’s taking psychic damage and will actually drop dead right here.
“Barr-”
“Almost-”
She bites her lip so hard she tastes iron. And carefully, delicately, he extricates her, and she stops getting a face full of forbidden crotch, and she cautiously straightens up. And their eyes meet for the briefest second.
Both of them are blushing so hard they could fry up a whole breakfast special.
“What if we-”
“Never mention it.”
They both nod frantically.
“It- it could have happened to anyone,” Barry reassures.
“Def, uh. Definitely. Probably happens all the time.” She pushes her hair out of her face and tries to stop imagining chopping it off as some sort of misdirected punishment. Something weird flickers in his eyes as she tosses it.
“Yeah,” he says, trailing off. “I. Um. I have to go.”
Lup has no interest in getting his excuse, because she also has to go find a small room to pickle her chilling screams in.
“Right, yeah, yeah, no, yeah, for sure. I’ll. See you.”
“Careful, yeah? Let’s not- I mean- it’s my fault, I was standing too close- but let’s not- end up in that position again-”
“No yeah, for sure.” Lup’s voice is pitching up at speed. “Never ever again. I mean-” she laughs awkwardly. “Why would we- even-”
“Yeah, I mean, yeah, never, I mean, why- obviously-” Barry looks like he’s about to pass out. They both look at each other again, silently nod goodbye, and then full on dead sprint away from each other like the awkward situation they’re leaving in their dust is a motherfucking shrapnel bomb.
If you're still taking potential au's, werewolf au?
“Okay, I’ve got snacks, we’ve got blankets, we’ve got a whole movie marathon set up, we’ve got no social responsibilities--we should be good.” Kravitz smiles at Taako after closing the door to his apartment, and Taako smiles nervously back.
“Are you sure you want to try this?” Taako already looks itchy and uncomfortable, but he’s giving Kravitz space. “We don’t- you don’t have to. I can go back to chaining myself up, you know, it’s- it’s fine, it’s tradition-”
Kravitz shakes his head. He sets all of their supplies and his overnight bag down, and he walks calmly over and hugs Taako. Taako jumps, but immediately leans into the embrace, inhaling deeply.
“No way, Taako. We can do this. You can do this. It’s going to be okay, and I’m not afraid of you.”
“But maybe you should be! I- I’ve done some terrible things in my werewolf form, Krav, I- I don’t want to fuck you up too.”
Kravitz holds him closer.
“It’s going to be okay,” he reassures. “Are you ready to set up?”
“Mmnh. Hold on, I want to smell you a little longer.”
Kravitz laughs.
“I’m not going anywhere tonight, love. You have me all to yourself.”
“Don’t tempt me!!” It’s enough to make Taako laugh, to break the tension, to comfort the fear. Together, they set up the movies, scramble together a comfy cozy fort, and break into the jerky, and Taako gets fuzzier and jumpier and snugglier, and soon, the sun has set and the moon has risen, and in the middle of playing fuck-marry-kill with the fellowship of the ring, Taako hunches over, clutching at the floor, and it begins.
Kravitz doesn’t move away, staring intently, and he watches as Taako shudders and changes, growing furry and enormous and sharp and terrifying and wonderful, and he tips back his lupine head and howls, his sharp teeth glinting in the light of the movie.
Kravitz is slack-jawed.
“Holy fuck, Taako.”
Taako stops howling and looks at him, startled, like he’d forgotten he was there, and he scrambles backwards out of their fort, trying to move away from him, but Kravitz holds his hand out, and, scared but hopeful, Taako moves forward and nudges the hand as gently as possible. Kravitz, awed, pets him, and Taako closes his terrifying yellow eyes and sighs.
“This is incredible.”
“It’s not incredible! It’s horrible! It’s- I’m a fuckin’ monster, Krav.”
“You aren’t a monster,” Kravitz soothes. Not that that is in any way a problem for him. “You’re wonderful. You’re my boyfriend. And you’re gonna curl back up with me and watch the entirety of the Lord of the Rings with me, and everything is going to be fine. No running, no worrying, no blood, guts, or tears. Yeah?”
Taako hesitates, but he nods, and he lays his enormous fuzzy head on Kravitz’s lap, and instead of running around and eating hitchhikers or chaining himself up like a poltergeist on a bike rack, Taako has the most peaceful full moon night he’s had since he was turned. Funny what a difference love can make.
i mean this mostly in jest because i thought it was funny but feel free: "I meant to grab the popcorn, not your crotch, sorry"
Taako only ever watches movies with Kravitz--otherwise he can’t be assed to pay attention for that long, you know, consecutively. A movie is just so many youtube videos long, is the thing. And consider the vine to movie ratio? Barbaric. But Kravitz loves movies, and Taako loves his best friend, and it’s easier when Kravitz talks through the movie the whole time, getting all excited about little details and shit, and Taako doesn’t have to pay attention to the plot, just be a good listener and let the serotonin of happy-Krav wash over him.
They’re just chilling and watching some terrible horror movie, and Kravitz is excitedly going off about the monster costume and ridiculous happenings on set and the props and whatnot, and Taako’s nodding and reaching for the popcorn--
But Kravitz moved the popcorn bowl so he could gesture wildly about the sea-monster animatronic, and instead of a delicious snack, Taako gets a handful of his best friend’s crotch, and Kravitz is wearing sweatpants, and both of them fully freeze, and the movie keeps on playing with its dorky dialogue and cheesy old-fashioned sound effects-
“OH NO!!! WHAT HORRORS CAN MAN CONCEIVE OF BEYOND THIS?”
Taako pulls his hand away after way, way too many infinity-seconds, and Kravitz stares at the TV, and Taako stares at the TV, and then Taako spills the excuses--
“Fuck- I- Sorry- I thought it was- I thought the popcorn was still on your lap-”
“I- sorry I moved it- I-” Kravitz glances at him, glances away, glances back, glances away again, ducks his head like he does when he’s really embarrassed. “I’m so sorry-”
“For what, sitting there? It’s my fault, I’m- god, fuck, shit- I can’t believe-”
Kravitz is so warm next to him, and neither of them have moved. On screen, the black and white beast terrorizes the beach, and bikini-clad fools scream and run in zigzags, like it’s a fucking alligator or something.
Taako can’t focus at all. Here’s the thing--he’s been thinking about getting closer to Kravitz for a long time. He just never thought it would turn out like this. Followup thing--Kravitz is fucking packing. And there’s no goddamn way Taako can say a thing without his soul leaving his body. He literally wants to go hide in the bathroom.
He risks a look at Kravitz, and finds Kravitz doing the same, and they both open their mouths to make more excuses, but nothing comes out.
“Taako-” Kravitz finally manages. “Um. If- if you wanted to-”
“Krav.” Taako’s head is splitting like a frozen watermelon in the microwave. “Are you fucking kidding me.”
“Well-!” Kravitz ducks his head again, and Taako’s heart squeezes hard enough to make grape juice. “Well- I- I- thought-”
“No, yeah, yeah, no, yeah,” Taako rushes out. “I am- I am very into you.” He considers perishing on the spot, but if you could do that on command, both of them would have been cremated by now. “I just don’t want to- without- you know- an invitation-”
“You want to RSVP to my dick?” Kravitz’s voice is pitching up, like he’s having some kind of exciting medical event. “Taako, I- for- for almost as long as we’ve known each other-”
“Me too! Fuck! Jesus! God! Are we stupid?”
“We might be stupid,” Kravitz agrees solemnly. “Shit, if we could have been- I mean, this whole time-”
“Forget the movie!” Taako yanks off his shirt and throws it over the back of the couch. “Are you going to kiss me, or are you waiting for that invite?”
“Count me in,” Kravitz laughs, and he pulls Taako into a rushed, excited, long-overdue kiss. And in the background, the monster eats a beach-goer and walks into the sea, satisfied with the chaos he’s done here.
“I’m the lowest rank in our class and you’re the highest and now I’m literally on my knees begging you to help tutor me!!” For the prompt thingy?🥺 i’d love a blupjeans but Ik Taaitz is yr specialty😌👉👉
i got you
“I’m gonna do it, Barry.” Lup shoots him a double-barreled direct eye contact special, and Barry melts under the laser heat of her attention. He covers his eyes, but ends up peeking through his fingers.
“Don’t do it, Lup.”
“I’m doing it. I’m already doing it,” she declares, and sinks to her knees, raising her hands dramatically clasped together, as if pleading for her life from an ancient, cruel king. “I need your help. You’re the highest and I’m the lowest in this fucking class and I’m dying over it and I need- stop laughing- I need you to help me!”
“Lup-” Barry is delighted and embarrassed and exasperated and blushing hard, because Lup is on her knees in front of him and he cannot turn his brain off about it. “Lup, you are whip-smart. You are so smart it’s literally dangerous. You don’t need me- you don’t need my help to pass organic chemistry.”
“You would THINK that, WOULDN’T YOU!” Lup puts her hands on her hips, which looks absolutely ridiculous while she’s still on her knees. She wobbles indignantly, but keeps her balance. “You would fucking think I could ROCK O-chem and trample it into the ground with my glorious hooves, but I’m fucking floundering here!! You’ve got to help me ace this test tomorrow or I’m fucked, and I am not repeating this. Do you know how much these classes fucking cost-”
“Lup, you’re on a scholarship.”
“And?? I’m about to climb you like a tree and wring a yes-Lup-I-will-help-you-Lup out of you, so help me-”
“Please don’t climb me like a tree,” Barry pleads, desperately trying not to think about Lup climbing him like a tree. He fails. Badly. “Of course I’ll help you. I- I don’t know why you didn’t come to me earlier. I mean, we’ve been studying together, for fuck’s sake.”
Lup gets very quiet, and Barry can almost swear she’s the one blushing now. He can’t understand why. Embarrassment over failing, he supposes. But even that doesn’t make sense--she’s absolutely incredible. She could wipe the floor with everyone in their cohort, including him like ten times over.
“I’ve, uh,” she starts to push herself up, and Barry offers her a hand. She hesitates, and takes it, and he tugs her up. Her hand is so warm, so soft, so perfect, and he can feel himself disintegrating on a molecular level. “I’ve been distracted.”
“Yeah?” He hasn’t let go of her hand. She’s so close, so fucking close, and she even leans a bit closer, and she smells so sweet and lovely and familiar, and if he weren’t such a fucking coward, he’d kiss her right now, forget all of the pining he’s been doing for literal years now, and maybe, just maybe, Lup wouldn’t hit him, and they could be together, and his heart wouldn’t ache every time he looked at her.
“Yeah,” she says, and drops his hand. “I, um. I. I’ve just been worried about Taako, is all.”
“Right,” Barry says, and his whole body feels like lead with a head cold. “Yeah, definitely, for sure. Well, um. I- of course I’ll help you, Lup. We could even go get started right now, if you want?”
“You’d do that for me?” Even looking a little despondent after bringing up Taako, Lup lights up like a glow-in-the-dark lizard.
“Of course.” Barry smiles, and he hurts, and he wants, and he settles. “What are friends for?”
perhaps some...post-rescue smut for royalty au taakitz (taako as the prince rescuee)...if you are interested :ooo
“I’m going to take the Prince to his room and ensure his safety while you investigate this assassination attempt.” Kravitz is incredibly calm, considering the blood all over his uniform and the dead man at his feet, and the other members of security stare at him like he’s grown a dragon head conveniently above his original one. “Can you handle that?”
“Well- of- of course we can handle that!” one of the guards says, going bright red about the implications, and Kravitz regards him plainly.
“If I hadn’t been by the Prince’s side, he would be dead right now.” Kravitz’s tone is far too calm, and the guards regard him like a wild animal with too many teeth. Good. “I don’t know how to put this any clearer. I will put my body on the line to ensure his safety every single time. But I’m the last line of defense. If you cannot do your job, my blade will find your weak points next. Have I explained this clearly enough for you?”
“I- yes-” another guard says, looking like he’s about to pass out. “We’ll- um. We’ll check the perimeter, and. And take care of the-” he goes a little green. “The body.”
“I want this castle safer than a wooden blade with two hilts,” Kravitz growls, his frustration finally leaking through. He needs to get out of here. He glances at Taako, who also looks pretty pale, considering everything that just happened. “Don’t update me until the morning. You have until sunrise to account for your deadly mistakes, or the consequences will be dire.”
“Yes sir,” they chorus, and Kravitz simply picks up Taako and takes him up the stairs and to his room.
K for “Kitten Followed Me Home, I Hope You’re Not Mad” AU 😺
Anonymous asked:
K: “Kitten Followed Me Home, I Hope You’re Not Mad” AU for taakitz? :3
“Taako, what have you done??”
“Oh,” Taako says, hands on his hips with the indignity of it all. “That’s a pretty strong reaction from a guy who has also fully brought kittens into the house. You can’t even pretend to be civil about it? You aren’t going to ask what I’ve named him?”
“No, I-” Kravitz puts a hand to his mouth, and then sighs. “Taako, this isn’t a kitten, this is a malignant spirit!”
“So, a cat.” The tiny beast in question mews from Taako’s shoulders where he’s posted up, and Kravitz shakes his head, incredulous.
“No, more like a very dangerous poltergeist.”
“You know, like a cat.”
“This thing is going to cause mischief and chaos in our home for no good reason, Taako. Like- I don’t know how to clarify this, he’s literally going to do harm for his own amusement??”
“Krav,” Taako squints at him. “We, it’s like you don’t understand. We have other cats. This is also a cat. They’re the same.”
“They so, so are not the same. This is the ghost of a dead thing in a mortal form come to wreak havoc for pleasure and revenge.”
“And, you know, enjoy some catnip, take some naps, shit in a box.” Taako strokes between his little pointy ears. “I don’t see what the problem is.”
“It-” Kravitz can’t keep his mouth from hanging open. “We’re having some serious miscommunication here. I’m saying- Taako, I’m saying you’ve literally brought home a dangerous ghost.”
“And I’m saying he’s cute and he likes me and he can’t be worse than Beans?” Taako folds his arms. “Like, of all the homes that there are, isn’t ours the perfect one? Like, maybe he’s a malignant spirit because he hasn’t experienced the string with the mousey on it, and also cat sushi.”
Kravitz opens his mouth, and he thinks for a moment, and he closes his mouth. He offers his hand to the new little guy to sniff, and the cat-spirit regards him disdainfully, but doesn’t hiss or bite or levitate anything. Kravitz takes a moment to rethink his position.
“Are we seriously going to rehabilitate a little furry wraith, Taako?”
“I mean, what are we even gay for if we aren’t going to share a few mean cats?” Taako laughs and kisses Kravitz on the cheek. “He’s gonna be alright. Like, not every malignant spirit needs to go to the Casper hoosegow. Maybe they just need a little love, yeah?”
“Maybe.” Kravitz shakes his head, and he smiles. “Maybe that could change a lot of things.”
“Maybe it already has,” Taako says with a grin, and he takes Kravitz by the hand and tugs him into the house, his new little friend still on his shoulders. “So, I was thinking we could call him, like. Asphodel, or Spooky Jones. What do you think?”
“I think you’re amazing,” Kravitz admits honestly, “And I’ve got to give you a little more credit than I realized.”
“Obviously!”
oooh trepverter for the prompt list !!
(coming up with a good comeback too late)
“I can fucking learn to cook,” Kravitz shouts after the fully, entirely gone taxi cab with his now-ex in the back seat, sitting pretty despite their breakup in the middle of the sidewalk. “But you can’t learn how to not be a bastard! Fuck!” He kicks a trash can, and swears again when it rings dully with all of the nerve endings its ruined in his foot. He’s just barely holding back tears, half because he’s hurt and half because he’s furious, and emotions are hard, and fuck toxic masculinity, why shouldn’t he cry about this?
But he’s glad he’s held back even just a little when someone laughs behind him, and he whirls around, ready to defend himself, and he comes face to face with the handsomest man that could possibly exist.
“That’s rough, buddy,” he says, with a voice Kravitz didn’t quite expect, but is instantly very into. “Couldn’t he have sent a text?”
“I know!” Kravitz huffs, trying to get his emotions under control, so he can be casual like this absolute fucking angel deigning to conversate with him here in the middle of this damned sidewalk. “He’s a piece of shit.”
“Glad he’s gone, then. The name’s Taako.” He reaches out a hand, and Kravitz shakes it, knowing full well that his hands are trembling and his grip is clammy and too tight. He wants to go home and sob and eat Ben and Jerry’s, but he’s simultaneously aware that this is some kind of auspicious meeting, and he’d better take it for all it’s worth.
“Kravitz. No offense, but why are we doing this?”
“Oh!” Taako laughs to the point of snorting, which is incredibly charming, half holding a hand in front of the gap in his teeth. Absolutely lovely. The hole in Kravitz’s heart is burning. “I just- I heard the thing about cooking, and I thought it was funny. I guess I didn’t say that, huh? I got kind of distracted by your handsome face.”
“Cooking?” he says, instead of handsome? But only barely.
“Oh, right, yeah, god, what a mess. Can we start over? Hi, I’m Taako, I’m a professional chef. You wanna stick it to that guy and actually learn how to cook?”
Kravitz might be having some sort of episodic medical event.
“Absolutely.” It comes out of his mouth before he can even think about the possibilities, namely just how likely this guy is a fucking serial killer, and also, like, what his intentions are romantically or otherwise, and also if he looks like an absolute mess that just got broken up with in public, and also whether this may be a very, very intense rebound sort of situation.
But hey, he’s gotta rebound sometime, yeah?
“Neat,” Taako says, grinning properly without hiding it this time, and Kravitz feels the warmth of the sun rising over his shell-shocked near-corpse, and he figures he’ll allow it. “Here’s my card.”
He hands it over, and their hands brush again as Kravitz takes it. “I’m free Saturday?”
“Saturday sounds radical.” Taako winks. “Come to that address and we’ll play in the kitchen, yeah? Maybe more.”
Kravitz swallows hard.
“Thank you?”
Taako salutes him, laughing, and struts on his way, leaving Kravitz in his wake with a lot of questions and powerful feelings and, at the very least, something new to focus on.
He still wants that ice cream, though.
for you
“It’s you!”
“It’s me.” Kravitz grins from the computer and does a cute little half wave like he always does when they do video calls, and Taako’s heart aches.
He’d give anything to be with him right now, to kiss his stupid handsome face, to flop against him and feel the warmth of another living body that just so happens to care about him very much.
But things are the way they are, and it worked out that their relationship has to go through just a bit of temporary long distance. Short. Brief. There’s an end in sight, no matter how far away it feels. No matter how nauseous Taako gets when he looks at the countdown always running on his phone. No matter how badly he wants to reach through that screen and pull him out and squeeze the breath out of him.
“What’s on the menu tonight, babe?” Taako says, like he’s not writhing in melancholy about the whole situation.
“Funny you should say menu.” Kravitz grins mischievously, and then shares his screen. “Have you ever heard of Cooking Simulator?”
“Already fear is chilling my bones.”
“That’s the spirit!”
Cooking Simulator does not load very well, or fast, and the menu music is fucking deafening, though certainly boppable. It’s kind of silly and kind of charming with a touch of motion sickness thrown in for texture.
“Soooo,” Kravitz draws out. “Love of mine. What should I make you for dinner?”
Taako laughs.
“A burger?”
“Coming right up!” Kravitz calls, and he clicks into the Confectionary kitchen.
“Great sign. Like. Incredible. Super.”
“Have a little faith! You don’t-” Kravitz interrupts himself laughing. “You don’t know- I could be a great cook in the digital sphere, you- you don’t know!”
Taako knows.
Immediately they are met with some issues. Like meat. Meat issues. There is no ground beef in the bakery kitchen. There are no burger patties in the bakery kitchen. There is no chuck, no roast, no turkey to stuff in the blender. The closest thing Kravitz can find, as he whips nauseatingly around the enormous refrigerator stuffed to the gills with eggs and butter and raspberries and entire blocks of baker’s yeast, is bacon. He clicks on the relatively large mound of bacon, which he gets to do individually per bacon slice, and both of them crow with laughter-
“It’s- so fucking small-”
“It looks like a bandaid!! Bacon bandaid! How many- Krav- How many of those constitute a burg?”
“Gonna say six,” Kravitz says confidently, because there are exactly six in the fridge, and he would have to order more otherwise. He immediately adopts and maintains a stupid accent, which doesn’t quite stay in one single wheelhouse, but does make Taako split his sides. “Sounds, um, sounds like a proper uh, patty to me.”
“You’re a monster.”
“You asked for this!”
Taako protests, but Kravitz just laughs, and proceeds to throw the bacon in the blender, along with an egg, for, you know, cohesion, and also flour, for reasons Taako daren’t and caren’t discern. This does not work out.
“Nothing a good attitude can’t fix! Honestly, Taako-” Kravitz snickers and takes the mixture to the mixer, slamming it in and setting it to stun and letting it rip. “You’re gonna love this. This burger’s gonna be so good you’re gonna cream your jeans.”
“Not my jeans!”
The bacon mixture inexplicably becomes a dough. Kravitz carries on and slops it in the oven, in the closest burger shape he can approximate--a little heart shaped pan.
“There are fuckin- there are round-”
“It’s romantical. Don’t unromanticize this for me.”
The heart pan also gets a dough treatment (twice)--“It doesn’t even look like it baked!!”-- and then they’re off to the races. Certainly not horse races, maybe...corgi. Or lizard. Or drunk bicyclists. Because next, well. Next is a problem.
“Kravitz, if you touch that mascarpone, I swear to fucking god-”
“Can’t have a borger without cheese!”
“You explicitly can! KRAVITZ! DO NOT MIX THE MARSCAPONE AND THE CREAM CHEESE!”
“I’m sorry, do you-” Kravitz can barely breathe for laughing. “Do you see cheddar? Some fine- some fine fucking parm-a-sin? Some respectable a-saw-jee-oh?”
Taako is literally fucking crying, and wheezing, and screaming (fuck his neighbors). He cannot abide by this. Kravitz. Kravitz, he cannot abide. This will not be abidden.
AND YET.
“You know what we need?” Kravitz asks, slopping the heart-shaped layers on the cake. Burger. Beef confection. Fuck, it isn’t even beef. Lord above. Christ on a bike. Ring ring. He’s coming through. And he’s blasted.
“Wh-” Taako gasps for breath. “What do we-”
“KETCHIP.” He grapes the bottle of red food dye with force.
“I-”
“Kechpup.” Kravitz slowly rotates the bottle onto the burg.
“Nooooooo!”
“Catstup.” Glowing pink light suffuses their crime. This is not Taako’s idea of what red dye should do to an object, but the game has its...limits?
“I want a divorce.”
“Kep. Spup.” Kravitz chucks the bottle across the digital kitchen, where it bounces off entirely respectable fictional equipment. He paps the top “bun” onto the disaster.
“There. We- We did-” Taako wipes tears off his faces and groans. “We did it. We done did it.”
“I think we should frost it,” Kravitz decides. He pulls out the piping gun and angles for the frosting dispensers on the wall, holding it aloft.
“Time to suckle,” Taako wheezes, and both of them are so lost in the sauce the call almost drops when the laptop falls off Taako’s couch. It takes seven full minutes for either of them to speak complete words at each other, and even then, the nonsense begins again. It takes even longer for Kravitz to actually retrieve and lovingly dispense the frosting, and their sin is done.
“There.” Kravitz picks up the plate with their burger and admires it.
“God, my jeans,” Taako says, voice hoarse from laughing like a buffoon. “Something’s happened.”
“Called it.” Kravitz whips the camera around a few times, and then chucks the burger onto the display area, where it entirely falls apart. “Let’s go to the pizzeria.”
“Great. I want sushi.”
“SUSHI??”
So maybe their call lasts well into the night, and maybe Taako’s bothering the neighbors, and maybe the couch is incredibly empty with only his ass curled up on it, but that love is still there, and still strong, and still absolutely fucking ridiculous. Some souls just match, even if they’re far away.
trapped by a storm!!!!!!!!!!! oh no whatever shall they do
Taako wakes up disoriented, mask still on his face, and panics for a second--has he finally gotten his dumb ass caught??--before he realizes where he is. He’s at the safehouse with his Reaper, their limbs still tangled. His skin is bizarrely cool against Taako’s overheated body, and it’s grounding, in a funny way that isn’t funny at all. It’s a mess he’s gotten himself into, and deep, and there’s no sight of the sun anymore. All he has is Kravitz.
The weird feelings from last night come back in full force, and following that nauseating journey, thunder cracks again overhead, loud and nasty and world-rending, and Taako’s heart stops. He registers, belatedly, the hammering of torrential rain on this shitty little house’s shitty little roof, the storm sounding so much closer than it would if Taako was home in his apartment. If he was home, he’d turn his music up real loud (fuck the neighbors) and hide in the bathtub until the stupid thing was over.
But he’s here.
And so is his Reaper.
Kravitz stirs in a strange way at the noise and Taako’s movement, going from full unconsciousness to eyes wide open, hand reaching for a weapon, and it makes Taako feel some type of way knowing that he, too, has had to become a light sleeper to keep his stupid ass alive in dangerous situations. The more he realizes they have in common, the sicker he feels. He’s inventing a new fucking disease. Name it after him. Should it be Flux, or Taako? Does he want to be unmasked after death? Who fucking cares about his secret identity? There’s one person on the planet, and he’s got Taako in his arms already.
Fuck, he’s molten-core-of-the-planet deep in this mess.
“Flux,” Kravitz whispers, voice rough and sexy, for sleep reasons and also last night reasons. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, my man, nothing.” Maybe if he lies it’ll come true? Ah, nope, that’s not his super power, even if it is close. “Just a storm. You can keep snoozing.”
“Your heart rate is up.”
“Fuck you.”
Kravitz raises an eyebrow, which is a little hard to tell with his mask still on too (it’s not comfortable in a physical way, but it’s been easier to slowly let this become something entirely new when they don’t have to look at each other’s full bare naked faces), but Taako’s got practice reading him now, and he flushes hard at the implication there.
“It’s just a storm! It’s nothing! It- It’s nothing. I could leave if I wanted to. It’s fine.”
“Right.” Kravitz still looks skeptical, but he lets the shadows slip back from the shape of the weapon he’d been forming. Can’t sword a tornado. Even if you’re a relentless badass with a bod that won’t quit and a mouth like a fallen angel discovering Hell 2. “You don’t have to tell me.”
“You’re right, I don’t.” Taako fully sits up now, folding his arms and turning away, even though he wants to be back in those strong arms. Thunder claps again, and he jumps, damn it. Usually he can mask this better. Becoming vulnerable with his nemesis has made him soft and weak and...far too happy to last. “Don’t you say a fucking word, Reaper.”
Kravitz nods, and yawns, and sits up too. He pulls Taako closer with those terrible, strong, evil, incredible hands of his, and Taako glares, but accepts the embrace, because at least it didn’t come with some bullshit take on his weakenesses and the childishness of his fears and stupid reassurances he doesn’t need because he knows it’s fucking irrational, damn it, but every time, every single time that thunder bowls the primordial soup, it rattles Taako’s bones like a cartoon in a Halloween candy commercial.
Kravitz smells good. Taako doesn’t know how he’s let that smell become so familiar and comforting, but it is, and he accepts it for now, because it’s keeping him from completely shivering himself apart like a neurotic purse dog.
And Kravitz doesn’t say anything, because he knows when to be a brat and when to be serious, and maybe he’s not so good at being a civilian yet, and for sure, he’s no hero, but two villains like them almost sort of deserve each other, if you think about it. Taako sure won’t, but he can’t stop anybody else from doing it. He doesn’t know what he’s thinking, or if he’s even thinking at all. But something deep within him, something stupid and delicate and vulnerable and small, that something feels those arms around him and thinks safe.
He’s not a bathtub, but he’ll do.
if only
“This world was not built for one such as I,” Kravitz laments, catching his ugly plastic glasses as they tumble right back out of the cabinet he tried to haphazardly shove them in. He’s emptying the dishwasher, only because he’s finally decided to use it again, and he’d fully forgotten he had so many fucking dishes. Listen, he loves his ridiculous thrifted mug collection, but it’s not like his dehydrated ass is using four different cups a day.
“Is that Shakespeare?” Taako doesn’t look up from whatever delicious black magic he’s taken over Kravitz’s kitchen with. Kravitz isn’t the kind of guy to personify objects, he pretends, but he imagines it must be excited to be used for something more complex than microwave dinners and good old fashioned blue-box. Thrilled, even. Elated. Maybe that’s just Kravitz’s stomach.
“No. Kravitz.”
“You’re fucking ridiculous.” Taako snorts. “They’re just dishes.”
“The cabinets aren’t big enough!” Kravitz protests. “Imagine a family living here. What would they do?”
“It’s a one-bedroom apartment, homie. It’s barely meant to fit you.”
“And barely fit it does indeed. If you think this is ridiculous-”
“I said you were ridiculous, loverboy.”
“You should see my closet! I’ve gone up a size since we started dating-”
“Good!!” Taako points a rubber spatula at him accusingly. “You and those trash rectangles you eat needed a fucking come-to-jesus menu.”
“I don’t think you have any room to point, love of mine.” Kravitz smiles, though, like the sun is shining out his ass, irradiating his formica countertops. And the lower cabinets, which also hold too little.
“Never once in my life have I been accused of hypocrisy and I won’t start recognizing it now.” Taako huffs obnoxiously and goes back to stirring. “But I’m serious, you should move into the shitty old house with me. Been mad empty since Lup ditched me. Just me and the cats.” He leans against Kravitz and sighs. “Alone.”
Kravitz laughs and kisses him fondly.
“I would if I could, Taako, honest. No less honest than the last time we had this conversation. I’m stuck in this fucking lease until May.”
“You’re gonna run out of organs to sell by May!”
“This is true. My rent is atrocious. But my moms are glad I’m safe, and I have a covered parking space, and-” he swipes a taste of what Taako is cooking, and Taako yelps and shoves him away, laughing, and then of course they have to kiss, and laugh, and kiss again, and it’s so fucking domestic Kravitz could cry. If only him from three months ago could see this. He’d have a lot more hope for the world.
“And all that shit doesn’t matter a bit if you aren’t happy, yeah?” Taako puts his arm around Kravitz’s waist and leans against him, focusing on their dinner but sharing his love the way he knows how. “They won’t even let you have a cat. You’re fucking lucky I took Concrete in.”
“To clarify, I am allowed a cat, it would have just cost me $200 deposit plus a $300 fee, plus $45 a month pet rent.”
“PET RENT,” Taako howls, like this is news, like he hasn’t ranted about this easily fifteen times. “Pets can’t pay rent! They’re layabouts! That’s what they’re for!”
“Really, I mean, it sort of makes sense, think of the damage a pet can do-”
“Don’t defend these leeches, Krav. They’re sucking you dry and don’t give a single fuck about it. I may have to mow my own fucking lawn but, Jesus, at least I’m in charge of me.”
Kravitz sighs, and he very, very carefully extricates some plates (actual plates, not the paper plates he uses for 98% of his meals by himself) for their dinner.
“I’m not trying to defend them, Taako, it’s just-- if I can’t pretend there’s a reason, it makes me so upset I can’t sleep at night.”
“Mmm, well. Lucky you have me, and I have ways of making that happen.” Taako kisses his neck, and snickers when Kravitz almost drops the plates. “This stupid apartment may not suit your needs, but I have you covered and then some, handsome. Let’s eat fast, alright?”
“Right- yeah. Yes. Definitely.”
Taako laughs, and kisses him on the lips, and the world keeps on turning, with all its flaws and blessings, balanced in their lopsided way. Rather, we have to believe there’s at least some balance to it all. If that takes a little pretend, so be it.
ice cream please 🍦🍦🍦
"You know, my nephew thinks this is a front for something?" Kravitz tries, and mostly fails, to not look and sound like he just chased down an ice cream truck to flirt with the ice cream guy. Pathetic, you think. Maybe so. But have you considered: the ice cream guy is incredibly, incredibly cute, and Kravitz has had at least three dreams about him since the last time he watched Angus? Exactly.
Oh lord, how did it come to this.
"Fuck, you've found out my secret," Ice Cream Guy laughs, covering his beautiful gap-toothed smile. He's more freckled than a strawberry and twice as sweet, at least when he's wearing his customer service hat. Fuck's sake Kravitz, you think. Let the guy do his job without being flitted with. Ah, but ICG flirted with him first. He wrote his number on Kravitz’s palm the last time he bought Angus ice cream.
Unfortunately, it washed off. This is the greatest tragedy the impartial face of the sun has ever beheld. Also, it sucks.
"Yeah, for sure." Kravitz winks--Jesus Kravitz, winking?? This is just embarrassing. At least you didn't drag the kid into it again. Yes. This is true. Angus is at a science museum with his grandpa this weekend and was not available. "You know, when I was his age, I literally thought that meant, you know, washing the money like clothes? And then I heard how nasty money really is, and I wished it was true. Honestly, the fictional mob in my head is doing this country a real service."
ICG laughs again, his nose scrunching up so fucking cutely Kravitz might have the asthma attack he's only delayed, you know, from the running after a moving vehicle with off-brand cartoon characters painted on the sides.
"Honestly, same! Do you know how often I get money from a bra or something? Nasty. That mob in your head had better get around to it."
"I'll let them know." He winks. Oh, divinity, he winks. "Hey, um, I, um."
"Great start."
Kravitz’s cheeks heat up.
"I um, as much as I would like to give you some money for goods, I super am actually out of change? I gotta be honest, I really only chased you down because I washed away your number? I actually have my phone on me this time-"
ICG laughs like this is the funniest thing he's heard all week.
"Shit," he says, wiping a tear away. Angel. Who said that? "I thought you'd decided not to text me! Damn. Here, it's, um. It's Taako? T-a-a-k-o." And he rattles off his number, as Kravitz dutifully types it into a new contact, and also tries not to do a little jig in the street. he can't believe it was this easy. Who could have predicted that asking for something would end in receiving that thing. He has to tell the scientific journals about this asapity. The world needs to know.
"Incredible," Kravitz says, half to himself. "Incredible. I- I really, I'm sorry, I really feel like I should buy something? I only have a dollar fifty?"
Taako leans on his elbows and returns that wink with extra force behind it.
"You could just put it in the tip jar."
"Fair point." And he does. Because he is a fine summer gentleman, and maybe a tip will distract Taako from how sweaty he is. "I should, uh, I should let you get back to taking money from babies, but-"
"But text me, yeah?" Taako grins. "You're too cute to let slip away."
Kravitz sweats harder.
"For sure, for sure. Just, don't, text and drive! Haha. Okay. I'm going, I'm going to go. And you're going, to. Keep working. Okay. Um. Thank you for saving my bacon with the number. You know, hygiene, it, um."
Taako laughs.
"Lighten up, my guy," he says. "Summer's full of possibilities. Say, if I make enough money in this piece of shit, I can make a down payment on a food truck and really get the ball rolling, you know? That dollar fifty you gave me is pushing a dream uphill. So, I mean. Thanks, yeah?"
"Yeah," Kravitz says dreamily. And Taako wraps things up and drives off, waving to Kravitz as he goes. Kravitz clutches his phone and, as soon as the ice cream truck is out of sight, absolutely does dance in the street.
Thank God for nosy children.
"25. sharing an umbrella" has so much potential for both comedy and angst if the setting is close to canon...
Taako’s sworn Avi to secrecy and fucked off to Neverwinter for the day. Listen--he’s sick of training. The other two dinguses can get sweaty without him. It’ll be fine. They’re not going to find a relic today, probably, considering it’s been ages since the last one. And you know what? If they do, they do. They can wait for him to have a coffee with a pretty guy. It’s not like he’s fully gone on vacation.
Not that he hasn’t considered it.
He needs some Taako time, is the thing. And after a few close encounters and a business-date that went swimmingly, in Taako’s opinion, it was time to get a cuppa and talk about things that weren’t death bounties. You know. Important date questions. Figuring out if he’s the kind of guy to leave the cap off the toothpaste, or if he heavily invests in ketchup stocks, or if he’s a little bit insane in a way that isn’t hot.
But he’s cool and casual. He hasn’t got a list in his pocket. He left that on his dresser.
He’s lookin’ mighty fancy and watching passers-by do their thing, waiting five minutes, fifteen, and really, Taako’s not exactly the punctuality guy, but fuck, after about thirty, Taako goes in and sits down. The sky is looking mighty purple, and these boots are made for lookin’ and pretty much nothing else. He orders something warm with a hint of cinnamon, and he waits.
Kravitz hurries in after far too long, looking frantic, and Taako waves him over.
“Hey, bone-boy. Over here.”
“Taako! Taako, I’m so sorry, time works different in the Astral plane and-”
“Water under the bridge, my guy.” Taako waves his hand, forgiving him. “Go get something nice to drink.”
“Right,” Kravitz says, and hesitates, and then kisses Taako’s cheek before hustling over to the counter. Taako blushes and kicks his feet and tries not to make a teakettle noise about it. Success: medium.
He comes back with a tall coffee, and the anxiety slowly melts off of him as they talk, about somethings and nothings and a few probing questions on Taako’s part. Like how married he is to his job (very) and how much he makes (it doesn’t work that way, Taako,) and whether he wants kids (at this point he spit out his coffee and Taako had to prestidigitate it off of his suit, which answered the question effectively).
But they also just chat, and enjoy each other’s presence, and when they finish their coffees, they just sort of smile at each other, and it makes Taako feel like champagne and sugared flowers.
“Do you maybe want to...take a walk with me?” Kravitz asks, reaching across the table and holding Taako’s hands, and who the fuck is Taako to say no?
So they step out under the dark green awning and realize that it’s coming down hard, as in, full on passed cats and dogs to like, bears and pythons, (honestly, can you imagine?) and Kravitz frowns, and Taako elbows him in the side and winks.
“I got this,” he says, and he pops his umbrastaff open. It’s certainly not the intended use, but it’s a beautiful umbrella, and as they link elbows and walk down the street, not only does it protect them from the rain, it almost seems to emit a fond and gentle warmth, and Taako just can’t stop looking at Kravitz to the point where he almost walks straight into the street. Kravitz steers him away, moving his arm around his waist, and it feels so fucking good, Taako can taste his own heart.
“So you asked me a few hard questions,” Kravitz says, leading them down a street embroidered with beautiful flowers just dancing in the rain. “Can I ask you to expand on what you said on our first date?”
“What?” Taako knows, though. And he sweats.
“That no one else would have you. I- Taako, I have a hard time understanding that. You’re the most beautiful, charming, clever, funny man I’ve ever met, and I- not to make myself sound like a bit of a harlot, but I’ve met a lot of guys in my time.”
“Ah, well. Um.” Taako swallows his heart and tells it to do its fucking job. He bumps his shoulder against Kravitz’s for support. “Listen, I mean, listen. It’s- It’s always been just me. I’ve been alone as long as I can remember. There were a few times, I- I mean, just a few, but those never ended well. And it’s just been Taako against the world.”
The warmth of the umbrella seems to heat up, for some reason. Taako stares at the wet pavement.
“I’m so sorry to hear that, Taako.”
“It’s whatever,” Taako says, but his voice cracks, and he winces. “I don’t need anybody, and nobody needs me.” The umbrella handle heats up too, and it starts to rattle menacingly. Taako stares with his mouth open, until it starts to burn, and he drops it. “What the fuck?”
Kravitz gasps as cold rain spatters him, and he looks down at the umbrastaff.
“What in the world-”
Taako hesitantly grabs it again, and the rattling seems to have stopped, but he still holds it tentatively.
“It almost felt-” Taako bites his lip, knowing he’s going to sound stupid. “Upset.”
“I think you should have an artificer take a second look at that thing,” Kravitz whispers, almost like the umbrella will hear him.
“Yeah,” Taako looks it over uneasily. “I’ll put that on my list.”
21 for taakitz, please!! thank you!
con gone wrong/bed sharing
Something has gone terribly, terribly wrong. It’s baffling how bad things are right now, especially considering most of the facts look good for Taako on paper. It’s a high-paying job for an assassin like Taako, and it’s been incredibly easy to slip into the daily life of the castle as a mage-bodyguard for the Prince, soon to be King. It was nothing to forge his references and go through the tests of the Queen, and gaining the trust of everyone involved but especially the Prince has been one of the calmest jobs he’s had in a long, long time.
Too calm.
Because there’s a problem.
He’s ended up in bed with the Prince. Maybe that’s not the problem. That actually ought to be good. Taako has no less than six daggers on him even now, and it would be a piece of cake to use murder magic, has particular speciality, without leaving a trace. He could suffocate the beautiful bastard with a pillow, snap his neck with his bare hands, throw him out the fucking window, for fuck’s sake, and he’d still get the job done, get paid, move onto the next one. Things he ought to be more concerned with. He’s a coldhearted killer, always has been, always will be. He has no room for feelings. He shouldn’t be fucking capable of feelings.
He’s having feelings. Strong ones. Feelings he only barely remembers the names of, ones that make his chest feel like he’s gone and stopped his own stupid idiot heart by mistake. Prince Kravitz, so trusting, so soft, so vulnerable, is laying in bed with him, his arm comfortably thrown around Taako, saccharine and cloying and suffocating. He’s honestly frozen, unsure what to do. How to go on. He hasn’t been touched gently in a decade, maybe longer, and he craves more to a degree that frightens his dead heart.
He doesn’t even understand how it happened. He reviews the facts--they came up for dinner, the thunderstorm started in earnest, Kravitz admitted his fear despite knowing he had nothing to worry about. He confessed that Taako makes him feel safe. Stupid, stupid, gorgeous fool.
“Could you stay with me tonight, instead of keeping watch?” he’d whispered.
“You don’t have to stay in the chair,” he’d said. “There’s so much room in my bed.”
“It’s more comfortable than yours, isn’t it?” His voice is always so warm and sweet. In a manner of speaking. Taako doesn’t eat sweets. Hasn’t ever. He has to imagine it’s an apt comparison.
“We don’t have to get close, if that makes you uncomfortable.” Clueless. Privileged. Sheltered. Kind.
“I’m so glad I’ve met you, Taako,” he’d said, honesty and openness glittering in his soft brown eyes. Nothing in this world has had the chance to harden him like it’s hardened Taako, and he hates him for it. “I know I can trust you.”
He shouldn’t trust Taako. Taako has to carve that big dumb heart right out of his chest and eat it whole. There are dire consequences if he doesn’t. But he never, ever could have expected Kravitz would hand it over, still-beating, with a silky ribbon around it, tied neatly in a bow. Taako doesn’t think he’s ever gotten a gift he didn’t take for himself off a corpse.
It’s almost enough to remind Taako’s heart to flutter into motion, squeezing in an ugly, desperate way, trying to start again from less than nothing. With a warm arm around him, he almost feels like a person instead of a killing machine, and that’s a very, very big problem.
Something has gone terribly, terribly wrong. Taako needs to kill this Prince. But he’s starting to think he might be in love.
Wedding/ sick for weird au mixes
Kravitz thinks of himself as a relatively sensible guy. Somehow, despite this, he always seems to end up in bizarre situations, and this time, he might have really taken the cake.
Not literally. Wedding cakes are so fucking expensive. Did you know this? So expensive. Even breathing is expensive when it comes to weddings. Kravitz is never getting married. If he ever feels the urge, he’s going to take a cold shower and then calculate, by hand, how many burritos he can get for the cost of a wedding while he’s still dripping wet and naked. This is a foolproof plan.
Kravitz likes plans. He likes knowing what’s going on at any given time and what the appropriate reaction is to any given situation and he likes knowing the right way to handle things, which, he’s been criticized in the past, by several different boyfriends, is like trying to get a good grade on every social interaction at all times, like he’s going to be given a report card at the end of a fucking conversation. This is normal to want and possible to achieve. Kravitz is doing great. And all of those guys saved him a lot of money on not having a wedding, so, really, he should thank them for fundamentally misunderstanding him on a level bordering on cruel.
He’s sensible. He likes plans. He wants to know the right answers. And yet? And fucking yet?? He finds himself doing shit like this, holding back the long hair of a complete stranger in the bathroom the night after the bachelorette parties. They aren’t even from the same side of the wedding party--Kravitz is firmly in Sloane’s camp, the best man, in fact, and he’s never met Taako before this week.
“So, you’re Hurley’s friend, right?” He tries to keep his voice soothing, and he pats Taako’s back a little. He doesn’t want to overstep, but he also doesn’t want Taako to be as miserable as humanly possible, which he’s certainly trying to achieve with a fervent vigor most people retain for gambling, or extreme sports. He wishes he had a little pocket guide book for weird situations like this. Turn to page 34 to comfort a stranger. Turn to page 62 for dealing with someone who is attempting to vomit everything they’ve eaten since age five.
For the “I wish you would write a fic where...”
Taako thinks he has finally gotten the hang of the whole making sure that the tiny human he is responsible for is safe and happy thing down. Angus McDonald is a well behaved kid, even if being a boy detective gets him into a bit of trouble. Plus he’s got a rad reaper boyfriend. But neither have any clue what to do with a sick human child.
“I can’t do this. I- I can’t do it. Why did I sign up for this?? I- I don’t know how I convinced myself this was a good idea, it’s- he’s so fucking mortal, Krav- what can I even do? I’m so stupid, I’m not cut out for this-”
“Breathe, Taako,” Kravitz soothes over the stone of farspeech. “Breathe with me. Okay? In-2-3-4-5, out-2-3-4-5.”
Taako forces himself to breathe, but gets frustrated, and starts spiraling again.
“He’s just a little guy, Krav- I- I’m no healer- I- Should I be taking him to one?? I don’t even know- Elves don’t get sick like humans do! Am I killing him by not being there right now? Oh fuck, I’m killing him-”
“You’re not killing him. You’re, Taako, you’re taking a minute to calm down so you can be the best caretaker you can be. Taako, you can handle this. You’ve handled so much worse. He’s going to be okay.”
“You don’t know that!”
“No, I do.” Kravitz’s voice is gentle, but pointed. “He lives a long, happy, healthy life. I know.”
Taako fully lays on the bathroom floor. The cool tile is not as soothing as he’d hoped.
“I can’t go back out there, I don’t want to freak him out! He’s so fucking smart! If he sees me freaked out, he’ll freak out, and then he’ll get worse- and-”
“And he loves you, and knows you care about him.” Kravitz is so steady. How the fuck did Taako trick him into sticking around? “He probably needs rest more than anything. Rest, and fluids. Soup. You could make soup. That’s in your wheelhouse.”
“Got so many soup wheels,” Taako mumbles to the fluffy bathroom rug. He digs his hands into the softness and grips it tightly, trying to come back down. “How come you aren’t freaking out?”
“Oh, I’ll freak out when I get home,” Kravitz says, casual as can be. “I’m busy right now. I won’t panic until I see his sweaty little face, and then you’re gonna have to scrape me off the bathroom floor. But this is, this is relationships, right? Taking turns unpanicking each other?”
“That does sound like relationships,” Taako says, smiling despite himself. “Babe, are we good at this, or are we fucking up s’bad?”
“Both, I think? I think being good at it comes from fucking up and moving forward anyway?”
“How’d you get so fucking wise?”
“A witch kissed me and-”
Taako laughs.
“No, um, no,” Kravitz says. “It’s just distance, you know? Perspective? Time? Being old as balls has some, um. Positives.”
“Yeah.” Taako sits up, rubs his face irritably. “Okay. Okay, okay. I’m gonna go back out there and soup him. He’s supposed to be sleeping right now, but I’ll bet he’s reading Caleb Cleaveland under the covers.” He snorts. “Terrible little man. Shame I love him so.”
“I could say the same about you.” Kravitz laughs affectionately. “Should- Should I bring anything home? I should be done soon, if I don’t get my ass kicked.”
“I’ll message you. Gotta see what I’ve got for soup. Hey, Krav?”
“Mm?”
“I love you.”
“I love you too, Taako. I’m- listen, as stressful as this is? I’m so glad to have a family with you.”
“Yeah,” Taako mumbles, tearing up. “Same. Ditto.”
6 & 13 for that new prompt list? :)
Anonymous asked:
omfg, Cafune? I imagine you could do something wonderful with that one. Thank you!
Anonymous asked: hiraeth for the writing prompt challenge
hiraeth - a homesickness for a home to which you cannot return, a home which maybe never was; the nostalgia, the yearning, the grief for the lost places of your past
cafune - the act of running your fingers through the hair of someone you love
Nostalgia is a bitch-ass liar sometimes. That doesn’t mean it doesn’t fucking hurt--maybe the opposite, knowing that you can’t return to the way things were before not just because life is a monorail and there’s no retreating this choo-choo, but especially because things weren’t that good in the first place. It’s hard to tell sometimes, especially late, quiet nights like these.
It’s summer, and that means that night time is a particularly liminal hell of the mind, a torrent of memories and expectation and desperation to make things worth it. Being an adult now makes it especially weird, makes that potential and possibility twist and burn under careful inspection like an ant under a magnifying glass, an eldritch horror of what could be that’s impossible to fully comprehend. Things are the same, and they aren’t the same. If only they were the same, but even if that was possible, it wouldn’t be good, wouldn’t be right.
Kravitz is in love with his best friend. He has to wonder if he always will be, if it’ll ever go away. He has to wonder if, as he grows and becomes an adult too old, too large for the spider-infested playhouse of his soul, that that love will linger until he dies, an almost too painful to bear, too sweet to abandon. Taako is the most incredible person Kravitz knows, and every moment he’s spent with him over the years has been worth it, even the worst ones.
Is that true? Or is it just nostalgia?
Things haven’t been the same since they went to college--Kravitz going hours away, Taako staying at the community college in their hometown. Distance is the kind of pressure that forms diamonds, if it doesn’t snap the table beneath the fresh hot diamond ingredients first. This might be bullshit. Summer introspection is a heated, twisting, twirling dance, from one maybe to another, from once to always to never, the kind of poetry you find under the nutritional information on a bag of chips. You shouldn’t eat all those fucking chips, and you do. The potential of meaning is too tempting to abandon, despite or maybe because of the way the crumbs feel.
Taako’s sleeping over, like he used to. In the same bed, like they used to. There’s not an inch between them, and yet those four hundred miles have followed Kravitz home, and they wrap around his throat and choke the life out of him as he struggles to breathe quietly, so Taako doesn’t wake up. He’s beautiful, even more beautiful than he used to be when the sun would shine behind him like a halo when they’d jump into the river on hot days like this, a mockery of religion that has saved and damned Kravitz’s soul every day since they met. Taako doesn’t snore, but he snuffles quietly, and Kravitz loves him, and he can’t love him, and he wishes things were easier, like they were before he knew that. But maybe he always knew that.
His hair is long and silky, and it’s tangled and so close, smelling sweet like honey and warm like summer and full of dangerous possibility. A temptation from the celestial thing that makes its home in Taako and calls Kravitz endlessly towards it, four hundred miles, fourteen years, forward and backward and upside down. He shouldn’t. He can’t indulge this hungry thing in his chest, or it’ll want more he can’t feed it. Starving feels worse when you remember what food tastes like.
Taako snuggles closer, exhaling gently in his sleep, and it happens like breathing-- Kravitz runs his fingers through Taako’s hair, gently untangling it. Caring for him in the most secret, evident way he can, trapped half under him like this. It feels just as soft as he remembers, maybe softer. He wants what he can’t have, wants to go back to how things used to be, before he knew he couldn’t have it. Maybe he’s always known. Maybe nostalgia is a false witness, and the gospel of this moment is as tangible as Taako himself. Maybe not.
It’s hard to tell what part of the ache is the rotting, hollow yearning in his soul, and what part of the ache is habit, what part of the ache is the tenuous hold on reality that comes braided so neatly with the inherent fleeting nature of summer, slipping through his fingers.
